Everyone shielded their eyes.
“Oh, c’mon, I need more sleep,” Lateef complained.
Kareem stepped into the room. “Time to get up. We have much to do.”
Paris, France
David couldn’t wait any longer. He had spent the entire day waiting for Joram to return, but he didn’t. He shrugged it off and exited his apartment. Joram had shown he could gain access, so he didn’t need to be there if he did come by.
He walked onto the bustling street. It was evening, but Paris was like New York, it never slept. He turned right and headed for his favorite local café, there he’d be able to get a glass of wine and indulge in a delicacy, foie gras.
He reached the intersection but as he stepped to cross, a black sedan pulled up. The doors opened and several men stepped out. They grabbed him and shoved him into the car. The car sped off.
“What the hell?” he barked, lashing out at his abductors.
“Take it easy, David,” Grim said from the front seat. He turned around and gave David a smile. “I hope we didn’t disturb your dinner.”
“What do you want? I told you I wasn’t going to cooperate.”
“We tracked your friend here. Have you met with him?” Grim asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about?”
The car made a hard right and accelerated.
“I tried to be nice, but Joram is a dangerous man.”
“I haven’t seen him since Ankara.”
“Right now, this very second, Homeland is combing through a compound in northern Minnesota. This wasn’t some random day camp, it was a terror base and distribution center. In Texas yesterday, our forces took down a transport center. Do you know what they were transporting? Hmm?”
David straightened his clothes and said, “I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
“A bioweapon, we’re sending it to our labs to learn more about it. In Minnesota we lost a lot of men. I won’t go into further detail but if you’re talking to Joram, you need to tell us. We need him, we need him to tell us who Israfil is and where we can find him. A major attack is coming and we’re just pecking along at the edges of it. All of this is happening while our resources in the States are tapped dealing with these leftist protestors. We’re desperate, David. We need you more than ever.”
“I imagine you were watching my apartment, so you’d know if he came to visit me or not.”
“We have been watching but we haven’t seen him, unless you’re hiding him, hence why when you return to your place, you’ll find we visited.”
“Oh c’mon, are you trashing my place?”
“Sorry, but you left us with no other recourse.”
“Tell me, what is this bioweapon?” David asked.
“It’s classified, but I will tell you it’s lethal. We need to find Joram. He and he alone can lead us to Israfil. At least find out, if you talk to him, when they might be planning their attack.”
“I said I haven’t been in contact since Ankara. Now drop me off at the corner, I’m done with this interrogation unless you plan on using enhanced techniques. I know how much you agency guys love to use them.”
Grim looked at the driver. “Pull over.”
The car swerved to the right and stopped suddenly.
David was sandwiched in between two men. The man on the right got out of the car, allowing David to exit.
Grim grabbed David’s arm. “I hate begging, but we’re coming up with nothing. We hear the chatter but we don’t know anything; these Bloody Hand people are tight as a virgin.”
“Nice metaphor,” David mocked.
Grim wouldn’t let go. “Help us and we’ll help you with your project. I can get access to info that will be beneficial for your documentary, I’ll make sure of that.”
“I’ll think about it, but the problem is I haven’t seen him. Good night,” David snarked and got out of the car.
Grim rolled down the window and said, “I know you’re lying, and if this attack happens and you could have helped stop it, there will be blood on your hands. Just know that.”
David raised his hands and quipped, “Look clean to me.”
“He’s playing you, David. You’re playing the part he wants you to play. You just don’t see it, you can’t. You’re blinded by your own selfishness. Just remember, if something happens and we find out for sure you were in contact, I’ll make sure you disappear into the blackest of sites in some shit-hole country you’ve never heard of.”
“Nice to see you too.” David waved.
Grim shook his head. “At least take this. We know you destroyed your phone,” he said, handing him a small flip phone.
“How did you know?”
“Do you have to ask?”
David took the phone.
“You still have time to do the right thing, David, just remember that,” Grim said.
The car took off.
David watched it turn and disappear. His bravado slipped away into heavy breathing and panic. Is Grim telling me the truth? Am I being played? Now that his apartment building was being watched, how would he get in contact with Joram? His hunger was gone. All he could think about was Joram and finishing his interview. He turned around and raced back home.
Northern Minnesota
Owens woke with a gasp.
Where am I? What happened? He hastily looked around but his vision was blurred. He then remembered the fierce battle at the compound, leaving, then boom, the crash.
He repeatedly blinked until his eyes focused. He looked through the shattered windshield and saw gray smoke coming from the crushed engine compartment.
He then remembered losing control after several droolers attacked him on the road. He peered beyond the crumpled hood. Where am I?
He quickly examined himself, but didn’t find any broken bones or puncture wounds. He tried to open the door but it was stuck, no doubt the result of the collision with the guardrail. The metal screamed as he pushed hard against the door. Inch by inch the door creaked open until it was wide enough for him to slip out.
He stood on the deserted road. The sun was high, signaling it was midday. Off in the distance he heard the roar of water. A river or stream?
An eerie sensation suddenly gripped him, sending shivers down his spine. He paused to listen, but he heard nothing, absolutely nothing.
The forest and surrounding area were deathly quiet; nothing moved. Where are the birds? They and all manner of creature sat silent.
His eyes widened when the answer came.
The animals were hiding from them.
With his sixth sense on high alert, he scanned the area. He knew he wasn’t alone.
Are they watching and waiting? These questions plagued him, but his gut and crawling skin screamed loudly, They are there.
He pressed his eyes shut tight and listened more closely.
Nothing.
He took a few steps, stopped and listened while his eyes scanned the opposing tree line and slope.
A loud pop and crack echoed from further down the road.
He looked carefully towards the direction of the sounds, but saw nothing.
Up and down and back and forth, his eyes scanned each branch, rock, and tree trunk, but still he saw nothing unusual or out of place.
A strong uneasy feeling struck him. He turned back and grabbed his rifle. With a gentle tug, he pulled the bolt back to find a round was seated in the breech. He pushed it back and tapped the forward assist.
A subtle movement across the road caught his attention. He stared intently, examining each inch. Then he saw it, a pair of eyes fixed on him from behind a thick bush.
He recoiled from the sight, raised his rifle and flicked the selector switch to semi-auto.
A lone figure emerged from behind the bushes and stepped onto the road. It was one of them, but its actions were different than the others he’d encountered. It didn’t rush him or signal it was about to attack.
Owens’ instincts were telling him
to run, but he stood fast. He gripped the rifle tighter, keeping the reticle of his optics squarely on its chest.
The drooler tensed its body before releasing a guttural scream. It cocked its head to the left, then to the right and let out a series of wails.
It was a unique cry, nothing he’d ever heard before.
Why is it just standing there? Owens thought. His palms began to sweat. The thing freaked him out, more because it was just standing there, both of them locked in a deathly staring contest. Owens index finger touched the trigger. He began to apply pressure. “Time to get smoked, motherfucker.”
Loud crashing sounded around him.
There are more? he thought, and just like that, his thoughts were answered. The opposing tree line came alive. One by one, droolers stepped out and onto the road. They fell in behind the first one and stood, their chests heaving, mouths open, drool dripping out onto their tattered clothes.
Owens had first experienced this level of discipline the night before when they’d tested their defenses and later attacked the obvious weak positions later.
The first drooler grunted several times.
Owens watched with a tinge of curiosity as the others began to shuffle and line up alongside the first one. They’re taking cues. This told him everything he needed to know. The first was their leader, a weird thing to think, but that would be his initial target.
When the last one stepped out, Owens peered over his rifle at what he knew was his fate. He quickly counted, twenty-three, not a lot but more than he’d be able to handle.
Owens sighed loudly as the reality sank in that this was it, this was his last stand. He’d never see his friends or family again. How weird it was to know your own death was coming and that it would be brutal and violent. Resolved to his situation, he decided he wasn’t going down without a fight.
“Come on, you motherfuckers!” Owens screamed as he took a step towards them. His gut tightened and a cold sweat began to bead on his forehead. He gripped the rifle firmly and put the reticle of the optics back on the chest of the leader.
The leader examined Owens intently. Besides its eyes moving, it remained as still as a statue while the others behind it weaved, bobbed and fidgeted with pent-up anger and blood rage.
“Come on!” Owens barked.
The leader raised its head and howled loudly.
“Come on, you fucker!” Owens screamed.
Making his first move, the leader broke his stoic stature and raised his arms.
“This is it. Who would have thought I’d be eaten by monsters.” Owens laughed out loud. He firmly squeezed the forearm of the rifle, readied himself and recited the prayer Brennan had taught him, “Lord, make me fast and accurate. Let my aim be true and my hand faster than those who wish to harm me and mine. Lord, if today is truly the day you are to call me home, let me die in a pile of brass.”
The leader shrieked and lowered his arms. The others raced towards Owens.
Just before Owens squeezed off the first round, he swore the leader smiled, but he wasn’t sure. His first shot struck it in the chest squarely. He took aim on another and fired, then another and another.
Pop .
Pop .
Pop .
Pop …
La Jolla, California
SUSPECTED TERROR-RELATED INCIDENT IN MINNESOTA flashed as a news notification on Brett’s phone, making him anxious. He picked it up and unlocked his phone to read more about the story.
Madison saw Brett out of the corner of her eye. She leaned over and whispered, “Don’t be rude. We’re out to dinner with friends.”
Brett skimmed through the story and got the information he was looking for before turning his phone off. He looked up to the couple they were having dinner with, Michelle and Tom Finton. “Sorry, guys, my curiosity got the better of me. Won’t happen again.”
Tom leaned in and asked, “Now I’m curious. What was it?”
“Nothing. Just silly stuff,” Madison chimed.
Brett cut her a look.
“Oops, I saw that. What is it?” Michelle asked.
“It really is nothing,” Brett said. “I saw a news flash about another terror incident, this one in Minnesota.”
“Brett,” Madison groaned.
“I swear, every time I turn on the news, there’s another terror attack,” Tom said.
“Right,” Brett replied.
The waiter approached the table. “Good evening, folks. Can I get you started with a drink or cocktail?”
Madison breathed a sigh of relief. She’d take this interruption to turn the topic to cocktails and the restaurant in general. “Tell us about your specialty drinks.”
The waiter rattled off a small list.
“I think I’ll try that jalapeno margarita,” Madison gushed.
“Good choice,” the waiter said.
“I’ll just take the IPA,” Brett said.
“Me too,” Tom said.
“And you?” the waiter asked Michelle.
“I’ll just have a vodka gimlet, please,” Michelle answered.
“Sounds good. I’ll be right back with those,” the waiter said and walked off.
“Thanks for making the reservation. I’ve been looking forward to coming to this place,” Tom said.
“Me too. Um, Tom, how’s business?” Madison said.
“Good, can’t complain. But I’m still curious about what we were talking about before.”
Tom’s answer deflated Madison. The last thing she wanted tonight was to talk about terrorism.
“What I read happened in Minnesota is interesting. They’re not saying too much, but it appears the military conducted a raid on a property. They said something about it being a possible training camp,” Brett said.
“A training camp in the States, crazy,” Tom said.
“Scary is what it is,” Brett said.
“Agree, but our military will take care of us. I’m not too concerned,” Tom said.
The waiter approached and set the drinks down. “Are you ready to order a starter?”
“Yes, we’ll take the calamari,” Madison answered.
“Good choice,” the waiter said and walked off.
“So you don’t think we should do anything to protect ourselves?” Brett asked.
“I’m not saying that. I believe we should do what we can, but what are you asking me? Should I go out and hunt terrorists?” Tom asked.
“Not that. I’m saying—”
“What Brett is saying is you should get a gun, tons of survival gear and be prepared to fight a terrorist on every corner,” Madison said mockingly.
“I don’t believe that,” Brett challenged her.
“Yes, you do!” Madison said, her voiced raised.
“No, I don’t. I just think—” Brett said but was cut off.
“Did you know he bought a gun after that terror attack in Copenhagen. He thinks he needs a gun to protect us from terrorist, like ISIS wants to come to our home and kill us.”
“They do want to kill us,” Brett said.
“They want to kill us? Like we’re so special,” Madison snarked.
“I’m not saying they want to kill us because they know who we are, but they, the terrorists, want to kill us because we’re Americans. I’m not saying we’re special.”
Tom and Michelle sat back and uncomfortably watched Brett and Madison argue.
“Can you believe he bought a gun without telling me and ordered thousands of dollars’ worth of freeze dried food, sleeping bags, tents, a bunch of survival stuff, like we’re going to have to live in the woods after the scary terrorists try to kill us,” Madison mocked.
“Enough,” Brett shot back.
“We’re trying to enjoy a night out and you just can’t stop talking terror this, terror that. You’re right, enough already,” Madison said loudly.
Brett fumed.
The waiter walked up. “Okay, folks, have you had a chance to look at the menu?”
“No, come b
ack in a few,” Brett barked.
The waiter raised his brow and said, “Okay, I’ll come back.”
Tom leaned in and joked, “How about those Padres?”
Madison folded her arms and huffed.
“Sorry, guys, we’ve been debating this issue since my brother was almost killed in Copenhagen,” Brett said.
“Your brother almost died in Copenhagen?” Tom asked, curious.
“I’ve had enough. Michelle, you want to go to the bar? How about you boys get me when you’re done talking about this stupid shit?” Madison snapped and stood up. She tossed her napkin on the table and stormed off.
“Madison, come back,” Brett said.
“I’ll go check on her,” Michelle said. Getting up, she hurried off behind Madison.
Brett scowled and said, “Sorry you had to experience that.”
“Oh, shit, that’s nothing. You should see Michelle and I go at it. The thing is it’s over a topic not as exciting or important. She’ll ride my ass over the trash cans getting left out too long.” Tom laughed.
Brett chuckled, but he couldn’t help but regret getting into a fight with Madison. He had wanted a nice evening, but of course his obsession with all the recent events had proven to be too much for his relationship once more. She was right; he should have just ignored his phone. Timing was everything and he knew that. He also messed up by entertaining the conversation with Tom. He should have just dropped it, but he didn’t imagine she would lose it. He had calculated wrong and it backfired.
Michelle walked back. “She’ll be fine. She just needs a minute.”
The waiter returned with the calamari. He placed it on the table and said, “Enjoy.”
Tonight was supposed to be one of those moments for he and Madison to enjoy but again it was spoiled. He needed to find a way to balance his concerns about the current affairs of the world with his private life or he’d lose the latter.
Chula Vista, California
“We’re a team,” Malik said, smiling.
Mo gave Malik a lukewarm smile as he gave Malik a once-over. “You literally look like a terrorist.”
“Terrorist, no, I’m a holy warrior. You really need to stop talking like them,” Malik warned.
Day of Reckoning Page 25