The Evolution Trigger (Evolution Trigger Trilogy Book 1)

by C. S. Won

  The Evolution Trigger

  Book One of the Evolution Trigger Trilogy

  By

  C.S. Won

  Copyright © 2016 by C.S. Won

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any semblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Domi of Inspired Cover Designs

  Formatting by Polgarus Studio

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  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Part One: Origins

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Part Two: Evolution

  Memories

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Dreams

  32.2600 N, 112.9261 W

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Clay Desmond reached for the gun holstered at his hip. “Who’s there?”

  Han Yeon tried to soften his stride, but his footsteps clicked in the night’s silence. He stepped slowly into the path of the moon’s light, with his hands raised. “It’s me. Don’t shoot.”

  Recognition wasn’t immediate, but the tension seeped loose from Clay’s shoulders as Han stepped closer. Clay exhaled and took his hand from the gun. “How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that? I could have shot you.”

  Han lowered his hands and slipped them into the pockets of his coat. “I told you I was coming, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, to the rooftop of an abandoned parking garage in the middle of nowhere, and you’re three hours late. It should come as no surprise that I’m a little antsy right now.” Clay covered his gun with the flap of his sports coat and sighed. He took out a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth.

  “Bad habit, that. You should really quit, for your son’s sake.”

  “I should, but I need one after that scare you put in me.” Clay struck a match and lit his cigarette. He took a drag and blew out a steady stream, the smoke circling the air around their heads. The stench of it was strong and bitter. “Well, let’s get on with it. What have you got for me?”

  Han answered him by walking over to the edge of the roof, and leaning against the metal safety railing that encircled the perimeter. Clay, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips, followed. The dry expanse of Arizona desert opened up before them, but Han couldn’t make out much of anything, in a landscape swallowed whole by darkness. The only thing he could discern in the sea of shadows was the outstretched mountain ranges rising up like pyramids on the horizon.

  “We’re in trouble,” Han said.

  Clay looked at him. “What happened?”

  Han took a deep breath. “They know there’s been a leak.”

  “How? I thought you covered your tracks?”

  “I must have left a footprint behind.”

  Clay cursed under his breath. “Have you been made?”

  “I’m not in cuffs yet, so no. But the department is scrambling to find who did it, and I feel it might only be a matter of time before I’m discovered.” Han turned to look at him. “You have to print the story now. Get it out there before anything happens.”

  Clay shook his head. “I can’t. I need more information. Contextually, it just isn’t there.”

  “What more do you need?”

  “The why, the how. I need links, connections, and a clear-cut timeline. Right now, all we have is the what. The story lacks credibility with just that.”

  “Damn it.” Han slapped the metal railing.

  “Is there a back door or anything else you can access that’ll allow you to extract what you need without being detected?”

  “Everything is under lockdown. It’s impossible. I’ll get caught the moment I do something I’m not supposed to.” Han pulled away from the railing and moved to lean against a lamppost at the center of the roof. Its light had died long ago. “You need to lay low. They’re going to cast a wide net, which means sooner or later you’re going to get caught too. I need you far away from here before that happens.”

  Clay turned to frown at him. If Han had to envision what a grizzled journalist was supposed to look like, he’d see Clay. The uneven, rough stubble that capped his jawline was in desperate need of a good shave, and the bags underneath his eyes indicated long nights and little sleep. The outfit he wore straddled the line between homeless and professorial. His sports coat was old and wrinkled, his khakis long faded, and his dress shoes were more casual than dressy, having long lost their polished luster. He was the quintessential reporter jumped straight out of a pulp novel, if Han had ever seen one. “That’s just your paranoia talking. You’ve only given me hard material, nothing digital or electronic. There’s no way I can be traced. I’ll be fine,” he said.

  “You underestimate these people. They’re going to eventually figure out that you’ve been the recipient of classified information sooner or later, and when they do they’re going to make you wish you had gone into hiding.”

  “Are you implying that the government is willing to engage in illicit activity to keep me quiet?”

  “I’m not implying anything—that’s exactly what they’re going to do. They’ll end you and won’t think twice about it. Their secrets are worth more to them than your life.”

  Clay took another drag of his cigarette and scratched at his arm. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled, its night song long and chilling. “Fuck it, I’m not scared. I knew what I was getting myself into when I signed up for this.”

  “Don’t be stupid. Think of your son. What if he gets caught up in this too? They can use him against you.” Han took out a folded piece of paper and offered it to Clay. “Go to my brother. His address is written down here. He can protect you and your family.”

  Clay walked up to look at the paper but didn’t take it. “Your brother?”

  “He lives in Atlanta and works as a firefighter.”

  “I know that, but what makes you so sure he can protect me? He’s just a firefighter. I doubt he can do anything against a team of government operatives. Plus, you haven’t spoken with him in years. How do you even know he’ll even take me in?”

  “He will; you can trust me on that. And you don’t need to worry about his capabilities. He has great strength, more than you can imagine.”

  Clay nibbled at his cigarette and pushed the paper away. “If there’s one thing the government is good at, it’s plugging up leaks and silencing informants. You haven’t been caught yet, which tells me that they either don’t suspect you or they’ve already done their due diligence and found not
hing on you. Just stay calm. Don’t get ahead of yourself here.”

  “You need to take this more seriously. This is no game. They won’t stop, not until a culprit—either you or me or both of us—have been caught. We have to plan for the worst.”

  “I am taking this seriously, and it’s precisely why I’m not running. If we get spooked every time Big Brother makes a move, then we’ll never get anywhere. We need to stay firm and weather the storm. Remember, you and I are here for a reason: to nail these bureaucratic, twofaced, chickenhawk bastards to the wall. We cannot lose sight of that. These people have to answer for their crimes.” He patted Han on the shoulder as way of assurance. “Stay the course. That’s all you need to do. Trust me. All this will eventually pass.”

  Han shot him a disapproving look. Despite his assertion to the contrary, it appeared Clay didn’t really respect the severity of the situation. They were swimming with sharks now, and Clay was being careless, dangerously so. If he only knew how far these people were willing to go then maybe he wouldn’t be so keen to test their resolve.

  “Take the paper at least, as a contingency of sorts.” Han offered the folded paper to Clay again. “That way you’ll have somewhere to go when shit hits the fan.”

  Clay flicked the ash off his cigarette. After a long moment, he nodded, taking the paper and pocketing it. “Fine, but only if shit hits the fan.”

  “I need to go before they notice my absence. I’ll contact you again once I have another update.” Han took out a phone and dialed a number. “Tobin? I’m ready.”

  There was a swirl of cool air, and a gentle whistling against the ear. Both Clay and Han took a step back, and in the space between them a man in a fitted Trench coat blinked into sudden existence.

  Clay stubbed out his cigarette. “I’ll never get used to that, no matter how many times I see it.”

  “Tobin,” Han said. Tobin’s skin had a dark almond complexion, and his eyes shone a light hazel.

  “Sir,” Tobin replied. He fixed his tie and gave Clay a nod. He turned back to Han. “Ready when you are.”

  Han placed a hand on Tobin’s shoulder. “Let’s go.” And they were gone, the world vanishing into stark blackness.

  Part One

  Origins

  Chapter 1

  Jae Yeon kept his head low. Trudging forward on his hands and knees, he did his best to ignore the dangers writhing overhead. Fiery tendrils flailed about like waves churning at sea, painting the walls in a mosaic of seething crimson, whispering promises of pain if he dared to rise higher. They danced in tandem with the smoke, dense and formless, which loomed over Jae like a long shadow, eclipsing him in a trail dark with corruption. It hinted at all the possibilities that this place had in store for him, none of them good.

  For many, this would be hell—all fire and brimstone. But for him, it was just another day on the job, and experience told him that the best approach—the only approach—was to stay calm. Treachery laced the path ahead, but he had seen these dangers before. He knew panic would serve nothing but the latent fear that dwelled deep inside. He had to be unflappable, especially in the face of so much chaos.

  But as stoic as he was, stoicism did nothing to ease the discomforting mass on his shoulders. Inside the hefty cover of his turnout coat and underneath the seventy pounds of equipment hanging off his back, beads of sweat swarmed over his skin like an invading host of ants. He yearned to strip free of his burden, to lighten the load that pressed so heavily, but he had a job to do. He couldn’t stop until his job was finished. The boy trapped in this hellfire came first, well before his own trivial unease, and there would be no reprieve until the boy was secure.

  The floorboards groaned underneath him. A shudder rippled through the house. Jae paused and let the noise pass him by. He took his axe out and tapped the blade on the floor in front of him, checking for resiliency. They were light taps, tender in their approach and cautious with their intent. Clunk-clunk, clunk-clunk, clunk-clunk. The floor held firm—for now. He sheathed the axe back into its sleeve and resumed his journey. The flashlight strapped to his shoulder opened a path through the smoke, slicing through the miasma like a swinging, yellow sword.

  The radio strapped to his other shoulder came alive. “Status update?”

  It was the chief. Jae flipped a switch on his radio. “We’ve finished inspecting the southern end of the home but we didn’t find the boy. We’re currently making our way toward the north end.”

  “The fire is proving to be a bitch to tame, so you’ll need to pick up the pace. I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news to the parents.”

  “Copy that,” Jae answered. The radio fizzled silent.

  “I can’t see shit.” Gabe Kwon came up beside Jae, swinging a gloved hand in an attempt to clear the smoke.

  “I know this isn’t the first time you’ve been in a fire, Gabe,” Jae said.

  “It’s not, but it doesn’t mean I’m used to it.”

  Adam Erste nudged up behind them, trying to push past. “Sack up, pussy. We’re here to save a kid, not your chicken ass. Or rather, I’m here to save the kid because unlike you worthless morons, I’m the only one who knows what we’re doing here.”

  Gabe sighed. “It’s not the fire that bothers me. I can leap into one no problem. It’s the smoke. Shit makes me blind, and I don’t like that. I hate not being able to see what’s in front of me. Swimming in smog is not my idea of a good time.”

  “You really are a pussy. Are your balls shrinking, chink?”

  “They are, and yet somehow, they’re still bigger than yours. How does that make you feel, you redneck hillbilly?”

  Stephanie Lenhardt brought up the rear of their rescue party. “Settle down, boys. You can flirt later after we save the kid.”

  Even in the haze Jae could see the annoyance on Adam’s face. “Don’t tell me what to do. I don’t take orders from a woman.”

  “Cut it out and focus on the task at hand,” Jae said. He heard Adam grumbling beneath his breath but ignored it.

  The flashlight’s cone grew wider, casting a circle onto a wall looming before them. The hallway split into two different paths, one going left and the other going right. Another careful tap with the axe and the floor rang firm and steady. Jae directed his flashlight toward the divergent routes and weighed his options. Whichever path he took, he would be met with more smoke and more scattered fires.

  “Gabe is right; the smoke is pretty solid in here. Have they not vented the place yet?” Stephanie asked.

  “They were already venting when we arrived,” Gabe said.

  Jae flashed his light to the left and right again. “Steph and Adam, I want you to search the west end. Gabe, you’re with me; we’ll search the east end.”

  “I’m with this bitch? Jesus.” Adam turned to Stephanie. “Whatever. It’ll make me twice the hero when I have to drag you and the kid out of here.”

  “Fuck you,” she said.

  “Enough. You have your orders. Go.” Jae shooed them away, ever the mediator.

  Jae pulled his body in tighter and hurdled down the eastern hall, with Gabe not too far behind. A door reared up to his immediate right, slinking out of the smoke like a stranger in the night. Jae pushed through the door with a nudge of his shoulder and glanced inside. Smoke and darkness coughed out to greet him, but a search with his flashlight revealed no one. He closed the door and continued down the hall, pushing aside burning debris with his axe.

  “Rumor’s been going around that you’re finally going to propose to Madeline. Is it true?” Gabe asked.

  “Not going to say.” Jae grabbed a door handle. Locked. He unsheathed his Halligan. The long, narrow hook shaft glinted through the onyx smoke. Jae shoved the end of it into the door, breaking it open with a rigid jerk. Storage closet.

  “Aha! So you are. It’s about time, I say. You’ve only known her for, what, twenty years?”

  “Find the kid first. We’ll talk later.”

  The last door at the end of th
e hallway flickered in and out of shape in the smoke before them. Crouching down, Jae reached for the handle. A soft heat emanated from the knob, penetrating even the thickness of his gloves. He gave it a twist; it was unlocked. With a solid push, he opened the door, only to rear back when a wave of fire fanned his mask. Great flames roared upwards like ribbons of red silk.

  Jae surveyed the room. A computer sat on top of small desk in the far corner. The desk was charred and blackened like torched firewood. A giant teddy bear mangled with burn wounds sat on the opposite end. Numerous sports jerseys pinned the walls like banners, each one adorned with such names as Bryant, Curry, Jordan, James, and Jones. They too burned, as if in remembrance of legends long passed.

  The child’s room. Jae went in.

  “Careful,” Gabe said, following close behind.

  Jae made a beeline for the bed, avoiding the flames that danced around him, and aimed his flashlight beneath the bed frame. Lint, ash, and smoke shimmered in the flashlight’s cone, but no child was revealed. He turned away and made his way toward the closet, flinging it open. He flashed his light inside, moving it around in a wide arc. The search revealed nothing but a wide assortment of clothes, sports paraphernalia, and toys strewn about in a haphazard arrangement. He moved away from the closet, ready to search elsewhere, but as he turned the slight rustle of sheets tugged at his attention. He swung his light back into the closet, guiding it toward the farthest corner. A small boy with his knees drawn deep into his chest was curled within a turquoise-colored blanket, camouflaged almost perfectly with the clutter. Soot streaked the boy’s face, and ash stained his hair black and grey. The boy looked at Jae with eyes like two great pearls.