INCURSION: Knightmare (Knight's Bane Trilogy Book 1)

by Bryan Donihue

  INCURSION: KNIGHTMARE

  KNIGHT’S BANE TRILOGY: BOOK ONE

  BRYAN DONIHUE

  Edited by

  KATHRYN GERARD

  Cover Design and Layout by

  BRYAN DONIHUE

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Indiegogo Supporters

  Prologue

  Origin

  1. Smith

  2. Six

  3. Spooky

  4. God

  5. Boomer

  6. Doc

  7. Waiting

  8. Geas

  9. Knightmare

  10. Logistics

  11. Ghost

  12. Heavy

  Mission

  13. Pieces

  14. Trinidad

  15. Contact

  16. Cover-Up

  17. Hunting

  18. Daylight

  19. Giggles

  20. Underground

  21. Do-Right

  22. Familiars

  Incursion

  23. Planning

  24. Breach

  25. Kaine

  26. Silo

  27. Monsters

  28. Hunting

  29. Camp

  30. Showdown

  31. Aftermath

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, events, locations, and governmental agencies portrayed are either fictitious, or are used in a fictitious manner. Any similarity does not reflect the actual person, event, agency or location.

  Copyright © 2015 Bryan Donihue. Published by Section 28 Publishing.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, Section 28 Publishing.

  Send inquiries to:

  Section 28 Publishing

  2314 Cornelia Ct NW

  Grand Rapids, Mi 49544

  e-mail: bryan@s28.us

  DEDICATION

  It may seem unusual for a paranormal action book, but this book is first and foremost dedicated to Jesus, the Christ - the only true Savior who can save us from evil. He is the real source of Hope.

  This book is dedicated to my wife, Christina, and my brood of kids. You've put up with many months of my unavailablility. Thank you for putting up with me.

  I have two wonderful editors on this project:

  Kathryn Gerard is my General Editor. She helps me sound better than I ever could without her. Thank you, Kat!

  David Cassiday is my Continuity Editor. He makes sure that I don't screw up all the little details, while also making sure that the story makes sense.

  Any and all of the mistakes that are left in this book are solely mine, usually because I didn't listen to Kat or David.

  Thank you to my Grand Rapids gaming group, Incursion: Hidden Worlds. They brought this story to life. They are:

  Ryan DeBoer - Burt "Six" Holstein

  David Cassiday - John "Spooky" Smith

  Zachariah Watkins - Jesús "God" Rivera

  Amanda Verburg - Rebekah "Boomer" Callahan

  Eulene Freeland - Noelle "Doc" Sorenson

  Simon Verburg - Jonas "Ghost" Vanhof

  Nate Miller - Arthur "Heavy" Murphy

  Scott Coles - Christian "Do-Right" Folsom

  Matt Poferl - William "Scout" Buckhorn

  Based on an original roleplaying game and world created by Bryan Donihue, Troye Gerard, and David Cassiday. The original "Section 28" name idea was from Troye, and he allowed me to twist it to my own particular flavor.

  INDIEGOGO SUPPORTERS

  For this novel, I ran a crowdfunding campaign to pay for some of the (rather minor) expenses incurred in self-publishing. I ran the campaign on Indiegogo (indiegogo.com), and can't say enough good things about their service.

  I had a group of incredible backers in the campaign. Their support made the campaign successful, and I cannot thank them enough!

  CAMPAIGN CONTRIBUTORS

  Esoteric Research

  Jeff Jackson

  Jeremy Sampsell

  Field Agent

  David Cassiday

  Ryan DeBoer

  Paul Donihue

  Veteran Hunter

  Matthew Eastman

  Eulene Freeland

  Troye Gerard

  Nate Miller

  Support Staff

  Jeff Donihue

  PROLOGUE

  Hunger. Pain. Cruel hunger gnawed away at the creature. Forced to hunt. Searching for prey to feed the growing hunger. Cold, dead eyes saw the world around it. Even though it was a dark, moonless night, the creature saw the path and the surrounding woods as if the sun were overhead.

  Sounds. The rhythmic pounding of footsteps on the path. As the creature turned toward the sounds, it caught sight of a young woman. Even though the girl was still fifty yards away, the noise of the music on her headphones was apparent to the creature's newly heightened senses.

  Blood. Smell the blood. Nostrils flaring, the creature could almost taste the blood pumping through the veins of the girl. Forcing itself to wait for the prey to come closer, the hunger drove the creature to the edge of madness. As the prey neared, the creature hunched into the dark shadows.

  Running. The prey noticed the creature and screamed in alarm. She stumbled to a halt, turned, and began to run away in a blind panic. Like prey was supposed to do. The creature leapt toward the girl and snarled as it quickly ran down its prey. One hand reached out and savagely grabbed the girl by the scruff of the neck. A heavy jerk and the prey was dangling from the creature's hand. The prey's screams grew more frantic as she came face to face with the creature. Reaching up, the creature hissed at the girl, and then hit her in the head with a mighty swing of its free hand. The girl shuddered, and her screaming abruptly stopped.

  Alive. The prey was still breathing. Her head lolled in unconsciousness, and the creature grinned. Sharp fangs glistened in the darkness as the creature salivated at the thought of feeding. The creature threw its prize over its shoulder and ran into the shadows.

  THE EYES WERE the windows to the soul. When the soul leaves, eyes that were once capable of driving men wild lose their spark and grow cold. Her eyes were a bright blue. And lifeless.

  The flashing light of a camera. The red and blue strobe patterns of the police cruiser. The portable work lights around the crime scene. The bright flashlights shined by the detectives. But none of them were bright enough to bring light back to those eyes.

  A short, overweight man leaned over the body of the girl in the alley. His identification badge carelessly clipped to his scrubs proclaimed that he was the Medical Examiner. Careful to not disturb the scene, he reached out a gloved hand and gently closed the girl's eyes. "What gorgeous eyes you had," he murmured.

  "What did you say, Bill?" The man in the sheriff's uniform leaned closer to the M.E. and peered at the body surrounded by the detritus in the alley.

  Bill Stewart looked up at the sheriff. "Sorry, John. Was just muttering to myself. OK. White female. Approximate age... late teens? Maybe twenty? Did you find any ID?"

  John Klooster, the sheriff responsible for the safety of nearly 10,000 residents of Trinidad, Colorado, wearily ran a hand through his short, salt-and-peppered hair. "No personal effects. No purse. No phone. We will go through this alley with a fine-toothed comb when we move the body out, but, if it's like the others..." John trailed off and shrugged.

  Bill nodded slowly and looked back at the girl. Laid in the middle of the alley under a broken streetlamp, she was clad only in her u
ndergarments. Studying her hands and body, Bill continued his examination. "No apparent defensive wounds. No visible signs of rape, but I'll test her when we get her back to the morgue. No blood, no bodily fluids." Looking up at the sheriff, he said, "Did your guys find any sign of the attack in this alley?"

  John slowly shook his head, and Bill continued with his observations. "I'd say she was dumped here, like the others. Weird, though... It looks like she has the same post-mortem animal marks on her that the others had."

  Bill's train of thought was interrupted by a deputy approaching the sheriff. Noticing the deputy, John looked up and said, "What do you have, Morris?"

  Deputy Morris handed a copy of a missing persons report to the sheriff. "I thought I recognized the victim. She was reported missing about a week ago by her parents. They had a recent picture, and it looks just like her."

  The sheriff turned toward the body, and compared the picture on the report to the lifeless body on the ground. It sure looked like her. He bowed his head and sighed. Looking up, he handed the copy of the report to the Medical Examiner and looked back at the waiting deputy. "Good work, Morris. See if Shane needs any help with the evidence."

  As the deputy walked toward one of the detectives at the other end of the alley, the sheriff looked at the M.E., "Well, Bill, she's all yours. When can you get to her?"

  Bill thought for a moment and replied, "I'll get to her first thing in the morning. I should have a preliminary for you by tomorrow afternoon."

  Thinking through his next several hours' worth of work, the sheriff said, "That'll work fine. The detectives will be at this all night anyway, and I've got to start the paperwork."

  BY LATE AFTERNOON the next day, the girl's parents had identified their daughter, and the M.E. had filed his preliminary report with the sheriff. The sheriff had entered the initial report into his department's computer system, which was integrated with the Federal Law Enforcement Information Network.

  Hidden in the Law Enforcement Information Network, or LEIN, was a small program that reported traffic back to the NSA. Part of ECHELON, the NSA's domestic electronic spying program, this small subroutine forwarded a copy of the information to the datacenter.

  In the ECHELON datacenter, a tiny data worm sifted through incoming information, looking for a very specific set of parameters. The programmers who created and maintained the ECHELON datacenter did not know that this little data worm was in their system. Even if the legions of technical wizards had any idea that this little worm were present, they would have to torch the whole system to root this little worm out. But they had no idea that their ultra-secure system was infected. It wasn't their fault—the ECHELON system, and every United States Government system like it, had been built with the worm installed.

  This little worm found the report from the sheriff of a small town called Trinidad, Colorado. Recognizing specific keywords from a very long and eclectic list, it looked for more reports from this sheriff in Colorado. Then it moved away from the LEIN reports and began searching for archived news reports with similar parameters. Gathering enough data to satisfy its programming, it hijacked a small portion of the system and forwarded its findings to a specific secure server, in a specific secure datacenter just outside Langley, Virginia.

  And then it looked for other "interesting" things.

  I

  ORIGIN

  1

  SMITH

  SECTION 28, OUTSIDE LANGLEY, VIRGINIA.

  There was nothing remarkable about the building complex located just outside Langley, Virginia. A high chain-link fence surrounded the property and modest parking lot. Most people supposed it was simply a commercial or industrial park full of warehouses or service businesses. No signs hung on any of the buildings to indicate the names of the businesses, and the landscaping was minimal. With a simple brick facade and concrete block construction, the squat exterior did little to attract visitors. The only distinguishing feature about the complex was its private hanger and airstrip, though that was often unnoticed by passersby since it was safely hidden in the rear of the complex.

  If someone happened to notice that the complex was even there, they would likely pass on by. If anyone did stop at the building, they would be stopped at the gated entrance outside the parking area. With a gated entrance large enough to accommodate tractor trailers, the guard shack at the gate housed one uniformed guard.

  If a visitor is welcome and had permission to be on site, the guard would open the steel gates, and the visitor would pull forward and park in the small main lot. Approaching the building's only visible entrance, a visitor would see an electronic key-card access panel, a small push-button call system, and the words "Authorized Personnel Only" on a thick glass door.

  If the visitor is expected, he would be buzzed through the door. Inside, he would wait in a small atrium until the second set of doors were unlocked from inside, then he would enter into a typical reception area with a receptionist perched behind a high desk. There, the visitor would wait for their party to come and retrieve him or her, obtaining an RFID encoded "Visitor" badge from the receptionist.

  If a visitor is unwelcome, they would not be allowed past the steel gates. At any attempt of forcefully gaining admittance to the facility, the guard would push an alarm button. This would trigger several events. First, the signal would reach the guard room inside the complex, and an armed rapid response team would be activated. That same signal immediately would be transmitted to the FBI Hostage Rescue Team at the FBI Training Academy on nearby Marine Corps Base Quantico, letting them know that a high-value government installation needs their assistance.

  Next, the steel gates would lock, and pop-up barriers hidden beneath the asphalt would spring out of the surface behind the gates in a rush of pneumatic air. Designed to stop a run-away armored vehicle, these barriers would be capable of ripping through the underside of most vehicles.

  Inside the guard shack, a hidden panel on the wall would open, and the guard would have immediate access to an M4 carbine with a supply of armor piercing 5.56mm ammunition. After loading the rifle, the guard would be able to defend the gates behind bullet-resistant windows and walls of the shack.

  If this were not enough to deter an unwelcome guest, the armed group of security officers pouring out of the building would deal with the threat. This unlucky visitor would be arrested for trespassing on government property and would spend a long time in a federal penitentiary all the while trying to determine what sort of building it was that he or she found.

  For those unwelcome guests with malicious intent: the armed security team carry automatic rifles that are backed up by hidden machine gun nests and missile launchers on the roof. Any survivors would then be sent to Guantanamo Bay for interrogation.

  IN ONE OF the buildings in the complex, a man sat at a nondescript desk in a sparsely furnished office. The man was likely of Native American descent and had close-cropped black hair and black eyes hidden behind small reading glasses. His dark gray pinstripe suit, white shirt, and black tie marked him as a middle manager, while his office, battle-scarred surplus desk, and less-than-comfortable visitors' chairs revealed that he was a government functionary.

  The man in the office was pouring over intelligence reports from other agencies, as well as situation reports from the teams of agents he supervised. Hearing a knock on his door, he did not even bother to look up as he said, "Come."

  A young man opened the office door and leaned in. "The Director wants to see you, when you get free, boss."

  "Fine, Timothy. Let me secure these files, and I'll head upstairs. Would you let him know I'm coming?"

  Timothy agreed and returned to his desk outside the man's office. The man in the gray suit collected his files into stacks and reached over to put them in his personal safe. As the safe door closed, he placed his hand on the top of the safe, fingers splayed wide. Around the edges of the safe door, a series of odd looking characters appeared, glowing with a soft green light. The characters disappe
ared when the man removed his hand from the top of the safe.

  Securing the files, he reached for a mug of coffee that was cooling rapidly on his desk. The man drained the last few swallows of coffee and left his office, nodding to his secretary as he passed.

  He walked down a long, wide corridor, marked only occasionally with other office doors. None of the other doors had administrators in front of them, and the man mused that it was nice to have a secretary. As he got to the elevator, he pushed a button and waited for a chime to indicate the elevator's arrival. When the doors opened, he pressed the button for the Director's office suite. A small panel slid aside, and a fingerprint scanner levered out. Placing his right thumb on the scanner, a small retina-reading device emerged from behind another small panel at eye level. The man obediently removed his glasses and placed his eye over the device.

  Three floors below, the server dedicated to internal security compared the RFID tag in the man's ID to the fingerprint and retinal scan on file. Upon receiving a positive match, the server then compared the biometrics to a list of those that had access to the Director's Suite. Confirming again that the man had special access clearance, the elevator gave an almost imperceptible shudder and began ascending.

  When the elevator stopped, the doors opened onto a plush reception area with an administrator sitting behind a mahogany desk that had a rich, warm patina that only comes with age and care. Seeing the man, she smiled warmly and picked up the phone. "Sir, Agent Smith is here to see you. Shall I send him in?" A brief pause. "Yes, sir."

  Motioning toward the man, she said, "He'll see you now, Agent Smith. Coffee today? Your usual?"

  The man she called "Agent Smith" graciously smiled as he strode past her. "Thank you, Mary. I'd love some of your coffee. You really do have the best blends in the building."

  Mary smiled and said, "Thanks. Go on in, I'll bring it to you." She turned and headed for the small alcove with the coffee maker.