No Refuge

by Richard Bard

  “Don’t even think about it,” the lieutenant growled, pressing the muzzle deeper. “Drop the weapon.”

  Jake’s mind swam, but he was out of moves.

  For now. He drew strength from the knowledge that a man willing to sacrifice his life for his loved ones was an adversary few could conquer.

  He dropped the SIG. Setting aside concern for his own life expanded his options tenfold. His confidence grew—until the lieutenant used his free hand to yank Alex to his feet and then pressed the gun to his son’s temple.

  Everyone froze.

  The lieutenant kicked the SIG away from Jake, never taking his eyes off him, his own pistol steady on Alex. “Butt on the grass,” he said.

  None of Jake’s options was good. The man wasn’t about to underestimate him again. Jake still had the mini but its effect was already waning, and he considered using its energy to boil the man’s brain while he still could. But the lieutenant’s finger was on the trigger.

  Jake sat on the grass, propped his elbows on his knees. He glanced at his son—and saw Alex’s eyes narrowed at the girl kneeling beside Jake.

  “Now,” the lieutenant said, “I want you to remove the little pyramid from your pocket.”

  Jake heard the faint sound of sirens.

  “Be quick about it,” the lieutenant added.

  Jake moved a hand toward his cargo pocket, hesitating when the girl gasped and scooted away from him as if he was about to pull out a deadly snake.

  “Stop!” the lieutenant said. Jake froze. The lieutenant’s brow wrinkled as he considered the girl’s reaction. “On second thought, lay your palms on the ground.” He turned to the girl. “And you grab the pyramid. It’s stuffed in the outside pocket of his pants. Get it.”

  “Why me?” the girl squeaked.

  “Just do it!”

  Jake suddenly felt his son’s presence in his mind. No words were exchanged, only a sensation that something was about to happen.

  With feigned reluctance, he complied with the lieutenant’s order, leaning back and bracing himself with his palms on the grass. The girl moved closer hesitantly. Her hand trembled, but her apparent fear didn’t seem to match the determined set of her jaw. The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed.

  “Take the damn thing,” Jake spat at the girl, hoping to draw the man’s attention. “I’m sick of it. All of it. So just grab it and get it the hell away from me.”

  The girl reached into his pocket and pulled out the mini. The moment the artifact broke contact with his leg, it felt as if all his breath had left him.

  “Throw it here,” the lieutenant said.

  The girl’s eyes darted upward. She tossed the mini, and it landed ten feet from the lieutenant. He glowered at her as he moved toward it, dragging Alex with him.

  Jake felt Alex’s senses going on full alert. A shadow shifted in the tree limbs. As the lieutenant neared the mini, a leaf twirled to the ground in front of him. Then everything happened at once:

  The lieutenant glancing up, raising his pistol, a shadow plummeting down, a shot fired, Alex twisting free, the descending boy’s warrior cry as his feet impacted the lieutenant’s face, a loud crack, man and boy crumpling to the ground, the girl’s scream…

  “Deondre!”

  An eruption of adrenaline spurred Jake to his feet. He scooped up his SIG and was ready to end the lieutenant once and for all. But the awkward angle of the man’s neck told him it was already over. The boy lay facedown atop him, moving slowly. Jake slid the pistol into his belt and bent down to help the kid—Deondre. By then Alex was beside him, and the girl and the boy with the bullet in his shoulder were hurrying toward them. Jake lifted Deondre from the heap, rolling him carefully onto his back. The boy’s face was twisted in pain, his shirt soaked in blood.

  Jake ripped the shirt open and looked at the wound. The bullet had left a gash ripping through his abdomen. It was a wonder the kid was still breathing. Jake pressed his palms into the wound, attempting to stem the flow of blood.

  “Oh, no,” the girl cried, dropping to her knees.

  The other wounded boy scooted beside her. “Deondre!” he said, tears flowing.

  Suddenly Ellie and Jazz were there. Ellie threw herself to the ground and cradled Deondre’s head in her lap. “Please God, help this boy,” she said. “This amazing, wonderful boy. D-Don’t let him die.” Jazz wrapped her arms around her sister’s shoulders.

  Alex rushed to Jake’s side and held out the mini. “Use this, Dad. Help him. Please.”

  Jake nodded, and lifted his bloody hands from the wound to cup the mini. He called upon its energy, focusing his thoughts on the wound, willing it to heal. But try as he might, he could still sense the boy’s life fading away. The artifact may have magically healed his own wounds during the crash over the South China jungles, but Jake was like a bricklayer with a doctor’s tool bag now, with no knowledge of how to use it to save the boy’s life. Alex’s mental efforts melded with his own. Their fused minds had averted an alien apocalypse, but now they couldn’t heal a single, deserving human being.

  Whose life leaked out in front of them.

  Jake felt Alex give up on the effort to save his newfound friend. Instead his son reached out with his mind to calm the boy and ease his pain. Jake did the same. Deondre’s features relaxed, and his eyes shone as he took in the faces of everyone looking down on him.

  Deondre smiled. “We did it, huh, Simon?”

  “You did it,” Simon said.

  “You saved us all,” the girl added. Her voice choked.

  Deondre looked up at Ellie and Jazz. “So beautiful. Like angels from heaven.”

  Ellie blinked at her tears, and one dripped onto Deondre’s cheek. “You’ve been our rock through it all. You’re a hero, Deondre. My hero…” She sniffled.

  Deondre beamed, and Jake saw the boy harbored special feelings for Ellie.

  Struggling for each breath, Deondre turned to Alex. The boy’s hand twitched but didn’t go anywhere. He grunted in frustration, his brow furrowed as if willing his muscles to perform this one final act. Finally his hand moved and he took Alex’s hand.

  “Thanks, kid.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “For giving me the chance to really live.” His eyes softened, and he expanded his gaze to capture all of them. Sucking in a wheezing breath, his mouth lifted in a half smile. “Nuttin’ to lose.”

  Then his eyes closed, and all the wind went out of him.

  The gasps from Alex and his friends tore at Jake’s heart, and he’d have liked nothing more than to comfort them. But there was no time. Already he could see emergency lights approaching from both directions. They were only a couple of blocks away, weaving through the clogged traffic. He needed to get these kids moving.

  “He wouldn’t want us to get caught,” Alex said, taking the lead. He lowered Deondre’s hand and stood up.

  “Alex is right,” the boy named Simon said. He pushed to his feet, clutching his shoulder. The bleeding had slowed. “By the way, Jake, I’m Simon.” He motioned to the others. “And this is Strawberry, Ellie, and Jazz.”

  Jake nodded.

  Jazz moved to Simon’s side and bound his wound with the scarf she’d used earlier to hide the mini.

  “Sure it’s okay?” Simon asked, glancing from the scarf to Strawberry. Chemotherapy, Jake thought. Then he noticed the bandaged scar peeking from under Simon’s cap, and he recalled from the website Marshall had uncovered that they were all terminally ill orphans. Deondre’s parting words about really living hung in the air. Jake looked at his son, who’d been diagnosed with an unexplainable disorder that gave him only six months to live. All of these kids were staring death in the face. They’d found a way to bond over it and draw strength from one another. It renewed Jake’s faith in humanity, and he felt a surge of pride in his son.

  “Of course,” Strawberry said as she helped Ellie lower Deondre’s head to the earth. “It’s just a scarf.”

  Simon removed his cap and plopped it on her head. “Fa
ir trade.”

  Strawberry and Ellie rose to their feet. Ellie wiped her tears and made a quick sign of the cross as everyone gathered around. Staring down at Deondre, Ellie said, “Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him.”

  Everyone bowed their heads, and there were murmurs of Amen. But the solemn moment didn’t last long. The kids exchanged knowing glances, and then turned away from Deondre’s body in a manner that seemed to be part of a ritual. They wiped their tears and gathered their courage like seasoned soldiers on the battlefield. Alex did his best to follow their example, though Jake sensed his son’s turmoil at doing so.

  “Time to move,” Simon said, heading for the motorcycles.

  “Straight to the airport,” Strawberry said, following with the twins.

  Alex took his father’s hand, and the two remained where they stood.

  Ellie noticed first. “Wait,” she said, and the others held up. She looked at Alex. “You can’t go with us, can you?”

  Alex shook his head.

  “Of course not,” Simon said. “The world’s looking for you. You’ve gotta stay off grid.”

  “That’s right,” Jake said. “But don’t worry, we’ll be fine. You kids gotta get going before the police show up. Clear the area, get that laptop into the hands of the federal authorities, and go home. Alex and I will hike it out through the park.”

  “The heck with that!” Ellie said, hands on her hips. “We can lose ourselves in the concert crowd easier than you two. Worst case for us if we get caught is we get held up for a while before they let us head back home.”

  Strawberry added, “And worst case for you is…well, it’s the worst!”

  “They can’t scare us,” Simon added. “Nuttin’ to lose, remember?”

  “They’re right,” Jazz said, tossing a set of keys to Jake. “Take the dirt bike. Use the park. Get away.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Alex,” Ellie said before ushering them toward the bike. “Besides, you and your dad have important stuff to do, remember?”

  “Oh, he remembers, all right,” Simon said, tapping his finger against his temple. His smile was forced.

  They all nodded. Their admiration of Alex was evident.

  “We’ll cover for you by leading them toward the concert,” Strawberry said. She spread her arms wide to hug Alex and Jake together. The others crowded in.

  When they pulled apart, Jazz looked at Jake and Alex. “Thank you for saving me. And my sister, too.”

  “And for the best adventure ever,” Simon added.

  Strawberry smiled. “And for telling me I look radishing.” She handed Alex her binoculars. “Here, you’re going to need this more than we will.” Alex slipped them into his pack.

  Ellie kissed Alex on the cheek. “I’ll never forget you.”

  Alex sniffled. “Me, neither.”

  A minute later, Jake and Alex were speeding across the park on the dirt bike.

  Chapter 31

  HADI LOWERED the night-vision scope. He was seething at the unexpected chain of events. He’d had Bronson in his hands just hours ago. The American had been unconscious, and it would have been the simplest of matters to dispatch him then and there. But his young charge, Farhad, had made him swear not to kill the American. He was to follow the father for the purpose of finding the son. And Hadi had accomplished that with little difficulty, having known from the audio surveillance of the Mt. Wilson cabin exactly where the man was headed. Getting on the same flight and tracking him afterward had been child’s play.

  But while he could appreciate the value of the power to hack into American government networks by using the boy, the odds of it coming to pass were slim. And the risk to their existing plan—which, after years of preparation, was only days away from coming to fruition—was too great. So Hadi had kept his oath to not kill the American, but he’d taken it on himself to make sure someone else would. The traffickers presented the perfect opportunity, and by revealing the boy’s secret to them, it would have removed the distraction of both father and son from the equation.

  If only the traffickers had been competent enough to hold them.

  He felt no guilt over disobeying Farhad’s wishes, in spirit if not in deed. He was still bound by the higher oath he’d given to the sheik years earlier—to protect the twelve disciples, to instill discipline as he guided them in their efforts to complete the mission that would once and for all bring the Great Satan to its knees. That meant assuring that the objective in California remained Farhad’s foremost priority. The young man’s obsession with the American, justified or not, was an obstacle to that success, and now Bronson and his son were on the loose again.

  If only I’d killed them when I had the chance.

  Hadi had his own reasons for wanting the man dead. He would have relished seeing Bronson’s expression when he realized Hadi—whose hands would be around his throat—had been with him and the sheik in that sacred cavern in Afghanistan eight years earlier. That’s when the American had stolen the mysterious artifact. It had hovered in the air back then, just as it had when Bronson somehow summoned its power in the Mt. Wilson cabin yesterday. Hadi had planned to retrieve it, but when he’d searched the American’s clothing and pack while the man was unconscious, it wasn’t there.

  He watched now as the four kids ran toward the concert grounds, surely with the intent of losing themselves in the crowd to avoid the police or any traffickers who might still be standing. If nothing else, he was glad to see the young ones make their escape. During his years in Bosnia and Chechnya, he’d witnessed far too many atrocities, and children had usually borne the brunt of them. He carried scars from those memories, so it pleased him that those four children had escaped a similar fate.

  He recognized the hypocrisy of the emotion but he excused it. Yes, thousands of American victims would soon die at the hands of his team, and many of those would be children. But their deaths supported a righteous purpose, and like it or not, war is fueled by the blood of innocents.

  The distant whine of the motorcycle brought him back to the scene, and he raised the scope to watch Bronson and his son race away. “I’m not done with you yet, Jake Bronson. My team and I have a little project to complete first.”

  After stuffing the scope in his pack, he pulled out his smartphone and opened a map of Bogota. He zoomed in and watched the flashing icon traveling through the park, happy to see the powerful GPS transceiver doing its job. He’d secreted the device, a product of his teams’ talents, into the folds of the American’s backpack.

  I’ll be seeing you again soon enough, Jake Bronson.

  ###

  Are you ready for the grand finale? Here is the link to order your copy of Against All Odds—the seventh and final book of the Brainrush series!

  Click Here

  Author’s Note

  If you enjoyed No Refuge, I’d love to hear from you! Send an email via the Contact link at RichardBard.com, or better yet leave a quick review on your favorite site. Reviews, no matter how short, are a huge help for newer authors like me, so I’d sincerely appreciate it!

  Also, if you’d like to get advance notice on new releases, or to participate in special price promotions on future books, sign up here.

  Are you ready to find out what happens next? What awaits Jake and Alex in the depths of the Amazon rainforest? What will happen when Farhad and his team unleash their hatred on America? Will Jake and his family and friends ever find peace? Discover the answers in the seventh and final book of the series, Against All Odds.

  Happy reading!

  Richard Bard

  (Turn the page for a sneak peek of Against All Odds!)

  Against All Odds

  Brainrush 7

  Richard Bard

  Preface

  Against All Odds (Brainrush 7) continues the story line that began in No Refuge (book 6), which must be read first to fully enjoy this book.

  In this conclusion to Richard Bard’s popula
r Brainrush series, Jake Bronson’s family and friends face their biggest threat ever. The startling challenges revealed in No Refuge are coming to a head, and the team must wrest every resource available to them in hopes of preventing a terror-driven cataclysm unlike anything America has seen.

  But the menace from within America’s borders pales by comparison to the global threat revealed to eight-year-old Alex Bronson in a series of otherworldly visions. And Alex isn’t the only one targeted by those mind-bending revelations.

  The stakes are higher than ever. The fates of America and the world hang in the balance, and Jake Bronson’s family and friends must risk everything to tip the scales against evil.

  Chapter 1

  Foothills of Mt. Wilson, California

  AHMED WAS GOING STIR CRAZY. Dad had left the night before, and Ahmed was still stinging over the fact he hadn’t been allowed to go with him. A part of him understood why, especially since even Uncle Tony hadn’t been permitted to go. But the way Dad had brushed off Ahmed’s plea to help was all the confirmation he needed that Dad still viewed him as a child.

  Mom and the others weren’t much different, and that irked him as well. Uncle Tony at least was beginning to come around, but he’d still had to think twice before even allowing Ahmed to leave the lodge to get some air. “Keep your head on a swivel out there,” Uncle Tony had said.

  Yeah, right. As if the woods were teeming with threats. Their location was well enough outside the light pollution cast by the L.A. basin that stars could be seen filling the night sky. The evening breeze was pleasant, the air smelled of pine needles, and a half moon illuminated the scenery. It was beautiful, but right now he hated it. It was a prison. The world believed the lies spread by the doctored videos, and not Dad, or Uncle Tony, or Doc, or even Marshall with all his smarts could figure out a way to backpedal from the spot they were in. So they were stuck here.