Apocalyptic Visions Super Boxset

by James Hunt

  Mack tried to react but was too slow, too old for Sarah’s speed, her tenacity, her anger. He jutted out his hand to try and block Sarah’s fist but did a poor job, as he barely softened the blow that connected to the side of Bryce’s face and sent him to the floor. Mack stepped in front of her, and she pulled her gun.

  The rest of the room hurried to Mack’s office, but he waved them off. He checked Bryce on the floor. He was moving and breathing but disoriented from the hit. Sarah held her finger on the trigger, and Mack noticed that the safety was off.

  “Get me in the room, Mack,” Sarah said, her words hoarse and wispy. “I need to finish this.” Her face was beet red, the muscles along her forearm rippling from the tight grip on the pistol. Her breathing was labored, her chest heaving in and out. Her eyes were red, glossy.

  “If you really want Demps’s location, you’re going to have to shoot your way in that room.”

  Sarah’s knuckles turned a ghostly white. The tip of the pistol’s barrel shook, and Sarah’s mouth twisted in pain. “I have to do this, Boss.”

  “Then do it.” Mack remained motionless. He heard Bryce fumbling on the ground and then watched Sarah break eye contact with him and look down. He watched her face, the realization, the pain, the grief, and the release of everything she’d been holding in.

  Sarah lowered the pistol, and it slammed against the floor, along with her and every single pound of weight she had carried. Her shoulders shook, and she buried her face in her hands. Mack dropped down with her and wrapped her up in his arms. He shot a glance to the rest of the room, which sent everyone else about their business. His secretary triggered the privacy glass. She felt small in his arms yet heavy with a burden. It was a burden he was familiar with.

  “I’m sorry,” Sarah said. “I’m so sorry.” The words came out in muffled cries from underneath Mack’s shoulder. Bryce rose from the floor, his cheek slightly swollen, and reached out and set a hand gently on Sarah’s back, which triggered another violent assault of grief. Mack and Bryce sat with her on the floor until she stopped shaking. When she finally looked up to tell Mack he looked like shit, he couldn’t help but smile.

  Chapter 11

  Bryce watched the doctor patch Sarah up, applying whatever medicines and balms he had to help speed up the healing process. Sarah had let him go first, despite both his and the doctor’s urgency that Sarah be attended to, but he’d finally agreed after Sarah threatened to hit him again. He knew she felt terrible for what she’d done. He just had to make sure she knew it was okay.

  Out of all the agents working at GSF, both in the field and in support, none of them had the skills the two of them brought to the table. Since their first day, they were in sync, tuned in. When Bryce had first found out it was Sarah he was paired with, he was nervous. He’d heard stories from the previous support agents she’d worked with. She was reckless, careless, had no regard for the rules or safety. And while all of that was true, there was something else that no one had ever spoken to him about. It was a gentle calmness in the face of insanity he’d never seen before. A courage he didn’t know existed. He’d just hoped he would be able to match what she could do. And so far, he had.

  “Here you go.”

  Bryce felt a nudge on his arm, and Mack’s assistant, Grace, was next to him with a cup of tea. She pointed to his cheek. “It’ll help with the pain.”

  Steam rose from the cup, and Bryce grabbed it, his hand lingering over hers. He just sat there, the cup warming his hand as he stared at her. Grace gave a light giggle, smiled, then walked away. Bryce watched her leave, transfixed on her figure, his jaw slack.

  “Do you need a minute?” Sarah asked.

  “Huh?” Bryce turned around sharply, swinging the cup and spilling some of the hot liquid on his leg. He pawed at the hot patch as it burned through the fabric of his pants. “Dammit.”

  “When are you gonna have the balls to finally ask her out?”

  “I’m waiting for the right moment.”

  “Bryce, there is no right moment. You just go in and get it done when you can and as fast as you can.”

  “I always knew you were a romantic.”

  Sarah scoffed. The doctor finished up his work, and by the time he was done, Sarah looked almost normal. Most of the swelling had gone down thanks to the meds, and she had been lucky enough to escape without any fractures, with the exception of her nose.

  “Your face looks like a bad watercolor painting,” Bryce said.

  “I was just in a fight. What’s your excuse, ugly?” Sarah replied.

  This was the first time they had been alone since the power had come back on after the blackout. Bryce sipped at the tea, the heat still strong enough to singe his lips. Sarah fiddled with the tips of her dirty nails, looking down at her feet. There was a vulnerability that he hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t sure if it had just never existed or if she had always hidden it, but it was there now in front of him. He finally had a peek inside the wall that had always been sealed up and locked tight.

  “Mack said Becca and the girls will be coming here tonight,” Bryce said. “He’s sending in an extraction team once the CIA finishes questioning them. They’ll be safer here.”

  “That’s good.” Sarah looked up, smiling through the light shades of bruises on her face, then cracked her knuckles and got to her feet. She walked over to him and rested her palm gently on his cheek where she’d hit him. “Thank you.”

  Bryce didn’t know what to say. His lips moved fruitlessly, trying to form the words that told her it was okay, that he understood. “I’ll always have your back.”

  Sarah brushed her thumb up and down the side of his face softly, a light mist in her eyes. Then, as quickly as she’d thanked him, she twisted his nipple hard and gave a playful slap to the other side of his face. Bryce jerked quickly, spilling more of the tea on his pants, and let out a high-pitched shriek. Sarah laughed and then made her way toward the door. When she got there, she stopped and turned back to him. “Well let’s go, Teacup. There’s still a bad guy on the loose.” She disappeared out the door, and Bryce set down the cup and tried drying his legs with a few tissues.

  “So much for tender moments.”

  ***

  Grimes paced back and forth, watching Becca from the interrogation viewing room through the one-way glass. He’d been in there for hours, waiting for her to say something, waiting for her to crack, waiting for her to give them anything they could use, but Becca never said a word. The audio from the room poured in through the speakers, and Grimes felt the interrogator losing his footing.

  “You don’t even want to know where your kids are, Mrs. Hill? I find it very odd that you wouldn’t want to at least see them, hear their voices. All you have to do is tell me that you saw your sister-in-law kill one of the agents. It’s that simple.”

  Becca kept her eyes on some imaginary spot on the wall with a stoic expression, keeping whatever thoughts were running through her mind to herself. Grimes leaned in close to the glass, the very tip of his nose grazing the cold surface. “C’mon. Give us something,” he said, talking to himself under his breath. But with the silence, the interrogator looked at the one-way glass and gave a light shrug.

  The only other option that was available to them would be torture, and despite what the media depicted of their agency, they weren’t in the business of hurting mothers who had nothing to do with any of this. Becca Hill had just had the unfortunate luck of marrying a man she loved who had a sister who was an assassin for some organization they still had no way of locating.

  Agent Mallory entered the room with a frown on his face and handed Grimes a piece of a paper. Grimes snatched it and looked at the cease-and-desist order that the lawyers had provided in regard to the old Chicago Packing Company’s property. Grimes crumpled up the paper and chucked it at the window. “These people. They think they’re above reproach.”

  “Why don’t we just go public?” Mallory asked. “That’ll give us all the leverage we need to
pull them out and get into whatever assets they have. We’ll brand them as terrorists.”

  “You really think it’s smart to let the media and people know that there is an organization operating within our borders that has better equipment, better intel, and better-trained agents than us?”

  Mallory mumbled a few words then focused his attention on his hands. Grimes brushed past Mallory and headed for the interrogation room and buzzed himself in. “I need a minute.” The interrogator left, and Grimes unplugged the camera and drew a curtain over the one-way glass, giving them privacy.

  Becca kept her glance on the wall, ignoring him until he repositioned the chair to intercept her eyes. “Becca, I need you to work with me here. We know your sister-in-law is part of some group. We know your husband didn’t die in the blackout riots. Let us help you. We want to find the people responsible for this. Nobody can give you back the life you had, but we could at least help you find some closure.”

  It was that last word that caused Becca to shift her eyes to meet his own. The expressionless stare she’d maintained for the past several hours had been replaced by one of anger. “Closure?”

  “It’s what you deserve,” Grimes answered. “I know people like your sister. I’ve seen them in action. I’m sure there are some deep-underground field agents in this very agency that have done some terrible things, but you know what separates them from your sister-in-law?” Becca didn’t answer, but Grimes continued during the silence. “They work for the US government to make sure you are safe. To make sure the country you live in remains safe. Now, I’m sure the organization Sarah works for has its own creed and motto, but until we know exactly what it is, we have to assume it is against our nation’s interests. I know you’re angry, and I know who that anger is directed toward. Sign the paper. Tell us Sarah killed one of our agents, and we will have every man and woman in a law enforcement uniform looking to track her down. It’s not a betrayal. It’s your duty.” He held up the pen for her and pushed the piece of paper toward her.

  The pen lingered in the air between them, Grimes pinching the end of it between his fingertips. The pen shook slightly from the pressure he applied, and he gave another thrust of the pen into her face. “Sign it.” His words were sharp, pointed. The patience of the past week was wearing off. He wanted to bring Sarah in, he wanted to find out who she worked for, and he wanted to know who these people were.

  “There is a large part of me that still hates Sarah for what happened to my husband,” Becca said. “And there hasn’t been a second that’s gone by since he died that I didn’t wish they’d switched places. But she’s hurt just as much as I have. She lost a brother. I lost a husband. My children lost their father. I may still be angry with her, but I will not give her up to you.” Becca picked up the paper and ripped it in half.

  Grimes picked up the pieces and placed the pen in his pocket. Before he left the room, he turned back to Becca. “When I find her, and I will find her, you’ll go down with her, and I’ll make sure you never see your kids again.” The door clanked shut behind him, and Mallory followed him down the hallway to his office. When Grimes made it to his chair, he collapsed and tossed the torn document on his desk.

  “What now?” Mallory asked.

  “I don’t know.” Grimes rubbed his forehead. Every corner he turned led to a dead end. The factory, the sister-in-law, his superiors. He drummed his fingers on the desk while Mallory stood there, swaying awkwardly, waiting for Grimes to give him something to do. Grimes racked his brain, going over everything that they’d found, looking for anything else they could track down. “Give me the flight destinations we tracked coming into Chicago. Just specifically where she was coming from.”

  Mallory thumbed through the files and then handed Grimes the flight manifests. “That was everything we found based on video feed we were able to obtain. The analysts are still sifting through all the data, but this is what we have so far.”

  Most of the destinations were out of the country, except for one. Grimes found a military transport that had taken her to Alaska, along with two other civilians not named in the manifest. “Did we get back the forensics on those burn samples from the factory?”

  “Yeah, they said it went up in smoke on the twenty-seventh,” Mallory answered, handing him the lab results.

  Grimes compared the dates on the lab papers and the Alaskan flight departure date. It was for the next day. “They went there to do something. I’m guessing there’s some sort of backup station there that they needed to get their hands on.”

  “Alaska’s a big place,” Mallory said, his voice lowering in a foreboding manner. “I don’t know if we’d be able to cover that much land.”

  “All we need to do is track down the commander of the military unit that took them there. Or anyone in the unit. There were thousands of men who went to the Alaskan coast to fend off the Russians, many of them who already gave statements about Agent Hill. Maybe one of them knew something more. That’s where we’ll start.”

  ***

  Once the news of Heath’s death reached Rick’s ears, it was all he could do to nod at the man who’d interrupted his research. It was something he’d expected to hear but also something he hoped he wouldn’t. Heath had been a loyal employee, the best security enforcer he’d ever worked with. “What happened to his body?”

  “We’re not entirely sure, sir. But we’re assuming the CIA confiscated it as evidence in secret. There’s nothing on the news about any altercations in the suburbs of Chicago.”

  “Let me know if you find anything else.” The man gave a slight bow and left the room, closing the door behind him. Rick tapped the pen in his hand absentmindedly, taking in the silence of his office. It was all coming to an end. With Heath gone, Rick didn’t have the same level of confidence in the rest of his staff to keep him alive. All he had left now was to find a bargaining chip, something he could use to lessen the heat on him. But it was proving difficult.

  Branston Clark had turned out to be a very interesting individual. He had holdings in a variety of companies ranging from pharmaceuticals to weapons and manned space flight. From a financial standpoint, it was one of the most diverse portfolios Rick had ever seen. He’d spent the past twenty-four hours trying to determine what the connection was, whether any of the Tuck Investments board had possibly collaborated with him, but the deeper he dug, the more he was sure Branston had acted alone.

  Every trail Rick followed in regard to Branston only led him to a dead end. All Rick’s contacts had asked the same thing when he called them: Who is Branston Clark? No one seemed to have an answer for that question. Rick had scoured for hours trying to find something, but the only thing he was sure of was that Branston Clark wasn’t Branston Clark.

  All the records Rick had been able to find pointed to the fact that Branston Clark had not existed until fifteen years ago, and the face Rick had seen when Clark finally revealed himself was much older than that. He had to be a man in his forties at least. But through all the facial recognition software, he was never able to locate any other file within the computer’s capabilities.

  Rick swiveled in his chair, looking out to the mountains surrounding him. It wouldn’t be long before Agent Hill found him here, no doubt with Branston’s help. How could this have happened? He rose from his chair and pressed his palms flat against the window. The rest of his empire had crumbled. All he had left now were the building and the men around him. He had enough money and supplies to last him until he would die a natural death, but he wouldn’t live long enough to see that happen. Agent Hill would see to that.

  ***

  Sarah and Bryce watched Mack and Branston from the interrogation room. During the questioning, Branston kept glancing over to the one-way glass, and each time, it was as if he could see her. Each time he looked, she felt her body tense and rage boil up.

  “You don’t have any friends left, Branston,” Mack said, pulling the man’s attention back to him. “Whatever connections you thought you h
ad were severed the moment we found you. Even if you don’t talk, everyone that’s worked with you will assume you did. If you cooperate with us, we might be able to work out some type of arrangement.”

  “What brought this on, friend?” Branston asked. “Of all the things I’ve ever known about you, you’ve never been one to try and negotiate with someone like me. Or have you forgotten what it’s like to kill?”

  “I remember what it was like.” Mack’s face was cold, stern, worse than any look he’d ever given Sarah.

  “You were a hell of a force back then,” Branston said, shaking his finger at Mack, his head bouncing on his neck like a bobblehead doll. “You didn’t show any mercy then. No. You were a much fiercer monster than you are today. Now, look at you!” Branston leaned back in his chair, his nose upturned in disgust. “I’m wondering if I was blinded by your past to keep you in the position for so long.”

  “Where is Demps?”

  “And why do you think Demps is so important? Because he helped coordinate Global Power? He’s a numbers man, Mack. He was interested in money, nothing more.”

  “He was financing terrorism. We need to know what he knew about the organizations he worked with.”

  Branston leaned in, his head ducked low, his hands folded close to his chest as they pressed against the table. “Don’t you want something more than that? The reason I jumped on board with this place when it first started was to be a part of something huge. Something that would change not just our world but the worlds of future generations for the next millennia.”

  “Is that what Global Power was supposed to be?” Mack asked. “Your grand vision?”

  “Global Power was child’s play.”

  Sarah found herself stepping closer to the glass, watching Branston move and speak. His mannerisms, the way he moved, the intensity. She’d seen that before, somewhere.

  “Sarah?” Bryce asked.