Heir to the Nightmare

by J. J. Carlson

  6

  Thunder in the distance. Audrey Stokes rose to her feet, strode to the window, and pushed the curtain aside with two fingers.

  One mile north, near the center of the city, smoke rose between the buildings. The pod had worked flawlessly, launching four missiles that homed in on the electromagnetic signatures given off by the Hillcrest exoskeletons. She hadn’t known what equipment the Hillcrest team would bring to the fight, which was why she positioned lookouts with sophisticated scanners on the surrounding buildings. Once the pod knew what to target, victory became a foregone conclusion.

  The Hillcrest security team—the best soldiers the U.S. had to offer and the biggest threat to her master plan—had been eliminated.

  Releasing the curtain, she skipped back to the computer. Images of the carnage were flooding in—a smoke-filled street, shattered bricks, broken glass, and twisted metal. Her agents inside the apartment had performed brilliantly, drawing the pesky operatives out of their underground fortress and luring them into a trap. Then the pod, which had been installed weeks ago, launched its payload and delivered the killing blow.

  All that remained was to dispose of the remaining evidence.

  The images disappeared. White text took their place on the screen, casting Audrey’s face in a pale glow. She smiled as she read the report. Targets have been destroyed and the hostages have been executed. Standing by for extraction.

  It was a pity; the agents in the apartment building had been well-trained and would be hard to replace. But she couldn’t risk any of them getting captured.

  The elaborate escape plan she had given them was a lie. There was no getaway van, no cache of clothes hidden in the sewer, no safehouse at the edge of town. There were only the pods.

  The keyboard clacked as she typed in a string of commands. In a moment, four other pods would spring open, and guided missiles would streak toward predesignated targets, killing all of her agents in the field.

  She frowned. It was nice to imagine their faces twisting in horror as the rockets streaked toward them and they realized her betrayal. But in reality, they would be dead before they could possibly understand what was happening.

  Bringing up the messenger application, she typed in a reply and set it to transmit to every agent in the field. Chimera thanks you for your service. Goodbye.

  Her fingers tingled with anticipation, and she pressed “send.”

  “Eugene! Eugene, wake up!”

  There was a pulsing sensation in Eugene’s wrists, and something warm trickling down his face. He opened his eyes and looked around, but everything was a dull gray blur. Something cold and hard clamped down on his shoulder, and he grunted in pain.

  “Sorry about that. Are you hurt? Can you move?”

  Eugene touched the metal hand clutching his shoulder. “E—Eli?”

  “That’s right. I need you to focus; you have a cut on your face, but it isn’t bad. Are you bleeding anywhere else?”

  Eugene glanced around, taking stock of his injuries. His ribs felt like they’d been run through a food processor, and his right ankle wasn’t any better, but he didn’t feel or see any signs of bleeding. “No. I think I’m good.”

  Someone outside the truck started to scream. Eli glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t move until we can check the extent of your injuries. I need to check on the others.”

  Eugene nodded then winced as Eli pulled away. Slowly, the screams became clearer. It was Nicole.

  “Dammit, Kacen, look at me! Kacen!”

  Eli’s stern voice rose above hers. “We can save him. Get his armor off.”

  Despite the pain, Eugene grasped the handle on the door and gave a sharp tug. The latch clicked but the door didn’t move. Gritting his teeth, he threw his weight against it. Lightning bolts of agony shot through his chest, and darkness crept into the edges of his vision. Vomit rose in his throat and spilled onto his shirt. But he had to get out…had to help.

  Taking a deep breath, he slammed against the door once more. It broke free, dumping him onto the debris-strewn floor.

  “Gene, I told you to wait,” Eli barked.

  “I have to…have to—” Eugene stopped short, unable to speak as he fought to get to his feet. His shattered right ankle wouldn’t support his weight, so he braced his left foot against the floor, gripped the side of the truck, and hauled himself to a standing position. His features darkened at the sight of the truck bed.

  Nicole was holding Kacen in her arms. He wasn’t moving; his arms hung limp by his sides. It looked as if he had landed on top of Nicole during the crash. His body had protected her from concussive force and deadly shrapnel when the missiles detonated. Eli, who had been standing in the back of the truck, had been ejected and thrown forward, away from the explosion.

  “Please…” Nicole’s voice was soft now. “Don’t go.”

  Eugene bit the edge of his tongue, trying to keep his emotions at bay. The carbon-polymer mask over Kacen’s face had been shattered by the explosion. His forehead, cheeks, and jaw had been pulverized, leaving him unrecognizable. Strips of skin and muscle dangled from the operative’s skull.

  “Call for a medevac.” The voice was cold and level. It took Eugene a moment to realize it was his own. “And take up positions near the exit. It isn’t safe here.”

  Eli nodded then lowered his head. He spoke into his radio, giving the team’s location and status.

  Eugene turned and leaned his back against the truck. As he struggled to remain conscious, he wondered if they could have done anything to prevent this tragedy.

  And deep down, he knew they could have. They could have brought him.

  7

  Seneca Falls, New York

  Audrey Stokes tossed her coat into the air, and it caught on the hook beside the door. She pirouetted into the living room then skipped past the marble countertop into the kitchen. She plucked a bottle of wine from the rack, unscrewed the cork, and poured a generous serving into a crystal stem glass. Carrying the glass with one hand and the bottle with the other, she returned to the living room and sank into a plush, leather sofa. Of all the remaining Katharos safehouses, this was her favorite, so she’d made it her unofficial headquarters.

  She swirled the glass, took a sip, then frowned. It wasn’t the wine—the six-hundred-dollar bottle of Chianti was exquisite—it was the sight of the thin, balding man entering the room. He was by far the ugliest thing in the house, and his constant complaining grated against her nerves. But she couldn’t get rid of him. At least, not yet. He was the rightful heir to Katharos, and the small army of remaining foot soldiers treated him like a king. For now, he would serve his purpose as a figurehead. And once the world was remade according to her liking, she would dispose of him.

  The gaunt man wiped his palms on his sweater vest and cleared his throat.

  Audrey let her head sink against the cushioned backrest. “What is it now, Lukas?”

  He adjusted his glasses and moved closer, coming to a stop a few feet away. “I wanted to talk to you about your trip this morning.”

  She took a sip, swirled the wine around in her mouth, then swallowed. “What about it?”

  “Was it really necessary to execute our own people?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Lukas, I don’t tell you how to rewrite DNA or clone a bacteria. Just leave the war stuff to me, okay?”

  “Bacterium.”

  “What?”

  He fidgeted. “The singular is bacterium, not bacteria.”

  “Whatever. The point is, you don’t know your way around the battlefield. Or did you forget why Roberts kicked you out of the Palace and shipped you over to the U.S.?”

  His cheeks turned rosy, and he scratched the back of his neck. “It doesn’t seem wise to waste manpower. We’re so few in number, and some of those men had been through years of training.”

  “Relax. In a few weeks, everything is going to change. The government will be too busy trying to find cures to worry about us, and we’ll be able to focus
on the next step.” She raised her glass. “Soon, the United States will crumble, and the world will be ours for the taking.”

  “I don’t think it will be that simple.”

  She scowled at him. “I’m not an idiot, Lukas. I know it won’t be simple. I’ve been planning this for a long time. And now, with Borya and Roberts out of the picture, I’m free to kick the chair and choke the life out of this pitiful, meaningless world.” She stretched her legs out on the couch and drank from her glass. “How long until the weapon arrives?”

  “The prototype should reach New Orleans in two days.” He crossed his arms. “But as I’ve told you before, it isn’t ready. The infection-rate is promising, but it’s far too similar to existing strains of the pathogen to create a significant number of casualties. The CDC will be manufacturing vaccines and providing treatments within days of the first reported case.”

  She smiled. “That’s what I like about you—you’re so narrow-minded; it helps you focus on one thing at a time.”

  Lukas clenched his jaw but didn’t respond.

  Setting her feet back on the floor, Audrey tipped the wine bottle up and refilled her glass. “I expect the CDC will put an end to the Cholera outbreak in New Orleans, and the Typhoid Fever outbreak in Hawaii, and the Hantavirus outbreak in Atlanta. There will be quarantines, clinical trials, blood drives, candlelight vigils, and millions of citizens banding together to help in any way they can. It will be a thing of beauty, the way this country unites against a common enemy. They’ll be so busy singing Kumbaya, they won’t even notice the C-Virus.”

  He frowned. “C-Virus? Do you mean the Salpalytic Phage Distributor?”

  She rolled her eyes. “C-Virus. Meaning chastity virus. You know, like your Chastity Vaccine? I think the name has a nice ring to it.”

  Lukas’s face reddened. Months ago, he had used Audrey as an unwitting test subject for his revolutionary vaccine—a drug that resulted in sterility, repression of the instinctual need to procreate, and a total loss of sexual desire. The vaccine was being distributed all over the world. Or it had been until ninety-nine percent of all Katharos agents were executed in an instant. The C-Virus, as Audrey called it, was less sophisticated but exponentially easier to spread. It affected human females by rewriting sections of DNA, causing the host’s immune system to attack her fallopian tubes, resulting in sterility. The only side-effects were mild abdominal pain for a few days, usually less severe than menstrual cramps. In isolated test subjects, it would probably pass unnoticed. But millions of women suffering the same symptoms at the same time would inevitably raise suspicion. And there were ways to counteract the phage before it manifested in sterility. A nation embattled with lethal contagions might not notice the subtle genetic alterations for weeks, perhaps months, but mankind would eventually find a way to eradicate the bio-weapon.

  The Salpalytic Phage Distributor was Lukas’s magnum opus. And he wasn’t about to hand it over to Audrey without a fight. “There are ways to counteract the distributor. If we release it now, as much as twenty-five percent of the female population will receive a cure before sterility occurs.”

  “Oh, really?” Audrey raised an eyebrow. “Even though the CDC will be occupied for months, battling the upcoming bio-attacks? And the U.S. economy will be incapacitated by millions of people staying home from work? And don’t forget, the C-Virus can be deployed on every major continent simultaneously.”

  Lukas’s eyes narrowed. “Borya would not have accepted anything less than one hundred percent success. That’s why he—”

  “Borya is dead!” Audrey shouted. She shot to her feet, spilling wine onto the plush carpet. “And what did he accomplish during the decades he spent in power? Blowing up a few schools? Turning off a few lights?” She jabbed her thumb against her sternum. “I am in charge now. And I will decide when and how our weapons are used. You are nothing but a puppet, and if you’re not willing to play along, I’ll cut your head off and hang it from a post. Then the troops will know who’s really in command.”

  She expected him to tremble at the knees and bow his head. Instead, he pursed his lips, turned on his heel, and walked away, disappearing into the hallway.

  Audrey took several deep breaths, regaining her composure, then she raised an eyebrow. Lukas’s defiance worried her. He was a coward, through-and-through, which meant he wasn’t bluffing. Somehow, he had managed to hide an ace in his sleeve—a secret he could use to protect himself.

  Glaring at the hallway, she vowed not to rest until she found out what it was.

  8

  Ashley Forest, South Carolina

  The axe head glinted in the afternoon sunlight. The blade whistled through the air, striking the wood and splitting it in two. Jarrod picked up one of the pieces, set it back on the stump, and split it in half again. He could hear approaching footsteps, taste the woman’s scent on the air, but he didn’t turn his head.

  Kayla stopped a few paces away and watched the axe come down again. “We have enough firewood, you know.”

  Jarrod nodded, stood a narrow piece of wood on end and swung the axe. “I am making smaller pieces. With greater surface area, they will ignite more quickly.”

  “Kindling. It’s called kindling.”

  He picked up two pencil-thin pieces, studied them, then repeated the word. “Kindling. I had forgotten.”

  She took a step closer and sat on an uncut log. “I checked the security feed. You didn’t go out last night, did you?”

  Jarrod shook his head. He had no need for sleep, and he often spent his nights completing objectives assigned by his subconscious…which usually involved prowling the streets, searching for rapists and pedophiles to torture and kill. “I stayed here because of something Felicity North said. Something I had not considered before.”

  Kayla raised an eyebrow. “What did she say?”

  “That Deedee will never change her mind about me if I continue to kill people.”

  “Really? I thought you had figured that out already.”

  “Sorry; I wasn’t being clear. I meant, I never considered the possibility that Deedee could change her mind about me. Now, I have a new objective.” Jarrod turned toward her. “To remain here until she changes her mind and I can see her again.”

  Kayla’s brow furrowed. She stood and took Jarrod’s hand. “People are…complex, Jarrod. When we’re hurting, we say things we don’t mean. Given enough time, we can heal.” She swallowed. “But you really hurt Deedee. It might take her a very long time to forgive you.”

  “How long?”

  She shook her head. “There’s no way to know. It might be months, or maybe years.”

  Jarrod nodded. “I will wait. As long as it takes, I will wait.” He turned his head for a moment and added, “Felicity North is here.”

  Kayla frowned. “What? Really?”

  “Yes.”

  She thought for a moment then held up her palms. “Stay here. I’ll go get her and bring her back.”

  Jarrod gave no reply. Stooping, he retrieved a piece of wood, set it on the stump, and split it in half. He continued making kindling with mechanical precision until Kayla returned with Felicity.

  “You are anxious,” Jarrod stated without looking in their direction. “Why?”

  Felicity set her hands on her hips. “I only got four hours of sleep last night. And the fact that you’re holding an axe might have something to do with it.”

  Jarrod let the sharpened tip of the axe drop into the stump and let go of the handle. He faced the young neuro-scientist and shook his head. “No. That’s not why.”

  She took a deep breath and exhaled through her nose. “Director Torres called me while I was on my way back to Baltimore. I was hoping it would be about my orders to Charleston Air Force base, and that I’d finally be able to move away from Baltimore. But I’m not that lucky.”

  Jarrod remained motionless and said nothing.

  “Right, so anyway, my orders have been canceled. He wants me to come back to Hillcrest
, permanently, and he wants you to come with me.”

  Jarrod took a deep breath and held it for a moment. Based on her body language and scent, he knew she was telling the truth. “Why?”

  “He didn’t say. But I’m guessing it has something to do with Philadelphia.”

  “I do not understand.”

  Felicity glanced at Kayla then back at Jarrod. “It’s all over the news. There’s been an attack. Bombs and dead hostages and everything.”

  Jarrod’s shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly. To his own surprise, there was a trace of bitterness in his voice when he said, “No.”

  “No…what?”

  “No, I will not go to Baltimore. I will not kill for them.”

  Felicity shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t want that for you either, Jarrod. But there are therapeutic tools at Hillcrest that I don’t have access to here—machines that we can use to make you better.”

  “Agent Janson is in Baltimore.”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind.” Jarrod held out his hand. “Please, give me your phone.”

  Felicity’s eyes narrowed. “What are you going to do with it?”

  “I am going to call Santiago Torres.”

  Kayla took a step forward. “Hold on a second, Jarrod. I’d bet my house that any calls going into Hillcrest are being recorded. And no one is supposed to know you’re alive, remember?”

  “No one will know it is me. Your phone, please.”

  Felicity hesitated then typed the unlock code into her phone and handed it to Jarrod.

  Jarrod brought up the call log, tapped the screen, and held the phone to his ear. It rang five times before San answered.

  “Hello?”

  When Jarrod spoke, his voice bore an uncanny resemblance to Felicity’s. “Hey, it’s me.”

  There was a brief pause, then, “Did you convince our friend to come along?”

  “Nope. He’s being kind of a jerk about it. Apparently, he’s worried you’re going to, uh, put him to work.”