Forging the Nightmare: A Jarrod Hawkins Technothriller

by J. J. Carlson

  He made no attempt to flee. He took a deep breath, tasting the night air, and waited.

  20

  Four black SUVs rolled through the dark streets with their headlights off. Daron rode in the back of the second vehicle, which had been converted into a mobile command center. He sat facing an array of encrypted radios and over a dozen monitors. The screens displayed the helmet camera feeds from each of his team members. Each feed was labeled by call sign, and a list of numbers on the side showed their current blood pressure and heart rate.

  Daron frowned. One hundred and twenty-two beats per minute, one hundred thirty-four beats per minute, one thirty-seven—his team was on edge. He tapped a button, setting his radio to broadcast to the entire team.

  “Remember, there is a small possibility that Jarrod can sense your emotions. It is imperative that everyone remain calm and professional. I don't want him to pick up on any unnecessary aggression. It's alright to be scared. Heck, there's probably something wrong with you if you aren't, but our orders are to bring him back alive. Everyone here has a TASER, so keep your finger off the trigger of your primary weapon unless it’s absolutely necessary. We have good reason to believe that his response will be measured against ours, so lethal force is a last alternative. Does everyone understand?”

  His radio crackled in response.

  “Vehicle one copies.”

  “Vic three, copy.”

  “Four copies.”

  Daron's driver spoke over his shoulder. “Copy. Be scared; don't use boom sticks.”

  Daron chuckled. “Your job is to sit on your ass with me in the truck, so count yourself lucky.” He keyed his radio up again. “I want Vehicle One and Vehicle Three staged two blocks away, monitoring trackers and watching the streets with Infrared scopes. If Jarrod escapes, you will be the first to follow, but do not engage until the ground team can regroup. Vehicle Four, I want you to drop the ground team as close to the front door as possible and stay in position. There will be six of you in the stack going into the building, and I don't want anyone left alone at any point. There is no need to rush this, the trackers on your wrists can pinpoint his location down to about five meters. We'll get him now or we'll get him later; he can't hide. Still, it's not going to be easy to see him in the dark. Keep your lights off and use thermals whenever possible.”

  Daron paused for a moment, then clicked his radio. “No one gets hurt. We are all coming home tonight.”

  Each vehicle checked in, and Daron was happy to hear confidence in every voice. His men were the best crew he could ask for. Every one of them had seen combat and had thousands of hours of training. Despite this, anxiety pressed against Daron's chest like lead weight. None of them had faced a threat like this before, and no one was quite sure what to expect. He spoke one more time into the headset. “Ground team, is everyone good?”

  Each responded with their call sign, betraying no fear or anxiety.

  “Alpha's good.”

  “Bravo set.”

  “Charlie, good to go.”

  “Delta's set.”

  “Echo's ready.”

  “Foxtrot, all good.”

  “Good,” Daron responded. “We should be at the objective in one minute.”

  There was a reassuring thrum as one of the support helicopters passed overhead. Two blocks away from the warehouse, the first and third SUVs left the convoy and turned down side streets. Daron's vehicle pulled off the street, one block short of the dilapidated building. The fourth vehicle rushed past and slid to a halt in front of a large gap in the chain-link fence. Two side doors and the rear door opened, and six figures slipped into the night.

  The team moved in a neat line toward the front door of the factory. The point man, Alpha, checked the door frame for any signs of a trap, then swept into the building, TASER at-the-ready. Bravo, Charlie, and Delta immediately followed. Echo and Foxtrot remained outside momentarily. The men inside cleared the first room, then Alpha keyed up his radio and whispered, “Clear.”

  Echo and Foxtrot pushed into the building, their TASERs pointed toward the ground a few feet in front of them. They rejoined the orderly stack of their teammates. Alpha paused, held the tracking device on his wrist closer to his face, then signaled for the team to move.

  Daron stared at the display of the large tracker in his vehicle. He set his radio to communicate with the ground team and keyed it up. “It looks like the target is stationary at the rear of the building on the top floor. Find the stairs and move that direction. Echo and Foxtrot, I want you to remain on the second floor and pull rear security.”

  “Echo copies.”

  “Foxtrot copies.”

  The team moved up the stairs, one step at a time. At the second-floor landing, Echo, Foxtrot, Delta and Charlie lined up and flowed into the adjacent room. After a few seconds, Charlie and Delta returned and took their places behind Alpha and Bravo.

  Daron watched the helmet cam feeds closely. With the flick of a switch, he could change the camera from infrared to night-vision. The infrared feed was colorful, showing the world as awash with blue, green, and yellow hues. Theoretically, the heat given off by Jarrod would make him show up red or white, starkly contrasting against a bluish background. Daron switched Bravo, Charlie, and Delta's cameras to night-vision to get a clearer picture of the building, but kept Alpha's camera in infrared. He glanced over at the tracker, then spoke into his radio.

  “Target is still stationary on the southwest corner of the building.” He glanced up at the monitors again and noticed that Bravo's heart rate had spiked, climbing above 170 beats per minute. “Everybody take a breath. Jarrod has had a lot less time in the saddle than any of you, and he's still just a man.”

  The hair stood up on Daron's arms as he found himself doubting his own pep-talk.

  Alpha's camera pointed toward his teammates for a few seconds, then bounced in a sharp nod. Facing forward again, he began to take measured steps up the narrow stairway.

  The third floor opened outward in two directions. One hallway was short, leading to a metal, exterior door; the other was longer, leading past a row of offices. The team proceeded down the longer hallway, ignoring the small rooms to their right and left and pressing toward the source their trackers were picking up. Alpha rounded a corner, then picked up his pace when he saw that the last stretch of hallway was clear. The team stopped a few feet from a doorway that opened into a large room.

  Daron whispered into his radio, “Target is stationary. Engage when ready.”

  Without hesitation, Alpha entered the windowless room, sweeping toward the left side. Bravo and Charlie were at his heels, each moving toward separate corners. Delta remained by the doorway, watching their backs. Daron glanced quickly from monitor to monitor. Seeing nothing but old furniture, he switched Bravo and Charlie's cameras to infrared. Nothing. The three teammates searched the room aggressively, toppling chairs and flipping tables. Charlie and Alpha aimed their weapons at a closet door and Bravo ripped it open. They were met with nothing but cardboard boxes and dust.

  It didn't make sense. Daron's mind whirled, trying to figure out how the trackers could have been wrong. The tracker! He shifted his gaze to the display, and saw that Jarrod's signal had moved into the hallway. He must have been on the outside of the building, and came inside when the team entered the room. Daron reached for his radio’s push-to-talk, but was interrupted by a transmission of muffled cries. Delta's radio was sending a signal. Daron looked at Delta's camera feed and squinted. Delta was facing down the hallway, but he was moving backwards with incredible speed. Daron hit a button and his radio overrode Delta’s transmission. “Target is on the move! Get in the hallway, now! Do not engage, target has Delta in tow.”

  Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie's cameras all snapped toward each other, then bounced wildly as the men raced into the hallway. Daron wrung his hands, feeling powerless as he watched a member of his team get dragged helplessly around the corner. Suddenly, Delta's camera spun around and fell to the grou
nd. The feed stabilized, facing either the floor or the wall. Daron glanced quickly at the tracker, then got on the radio. “Delta is free, target appears to be moving onto the roof. Do not pursue. Secure Delta and await orders.”

  In seconds, Alpha reached Delta's collapsed figure. He bent over him, checking for consciousness. Charlie swept past and stopped, his rifle aimed down the hallway.

  “Check yourself, Charlie,” Daron warned. “Delta's heart rate is steady. Get your TASER back up, it may be the only reason he's still alive.”

  Charlie hesitated, then transitioned back to his TASER.

  “He's alright,” Alpha said. “I don't see any signs of injury, but he's unconscious.”

  Daron thought for a moment, then keyed his radio. “The three of you stay where you are. I'm going to have Echo and Foxtrot join you.”

  Daron’s headset crackled, “Echo copies direct, moving to—” The transmission stopped short. A beat, then it resumed at a low whisper. “Something is down here.”

  Daron studied the tracker display. Jarrod's signal appeared to be on the outer wall of the second floor. “Move it!” he urged. “Regroup with the others.”

  Echo was the first one back to the landing. He turned and started up the stairs. Foxtrot's camera feed followed at first, then stopped short in the doorway. The tracker showed Jarrod in the same room. “Move it, Foxtrot.” Daron repeated.

  There was no response. The camera feed was stationary, then blinked out completely. Daron cursed, then hit the button. “Foxtrot is compromised. Echo, keep going and regroup with the others.”

  Echo held fast. Then turned and started moving back down the stairs, his rifle leading the way.

  “Echo, stand down.” Daron let off the button, then hit it again. “Echo, regroup with the others, now!”

  There was no response. Echo's feed showed that he was at the landing. The room came into view, and the camera swept back and forth. Daron punched it over to infrared. The room was empty. Echo paused, then looked down at his feet. His camera showed a warm object on the floor. Echo picked it up—it was Foxtrot's helmet.

  There was a flash of white on the monitor, and suddenly Echo was moving backwards and being lifted off the ground. Daron's eyes widened as he stared at the screen. Echo was struggling, but his face was pinned to the wall, his camera pointed directly at Jarrod's smooth visage. The face glowed red and white in the infrared. As Daron watched, the face began to morph as if it were plastic melting under the heat of a blowtorch. The jaw drooped impossibly low and the left eye socket sunk downward. Daron flipped over to night-vision. The black face was horrifying. From the drooping mandible, needle-like black spines grew upwards. Jarrod's face drew in closer, and Echo's camera began to vibrate.

  “What the hell is that?” Alpha's voice came over the radio. Daron could hear something in the background. It was a scream, low at first, then rising in pitch. Daron hit a button so he could hear through Echo's radio. The sound was haunting. It was a deep roar punctuated with the screeching of terrified children. Daron turned it back off. Torn between getting Echo away from Jarrod and keeping his other men safe, he flipped a switch and said, “Vehicle One, Vehicle Three, move in. I want everyone in the building. The helicopters can track Jarrod if he escapes.”

  “Vehicle One, rolling.”

  “Vic Three, en-route.”

  “Sir, what are our orders?” Alpha's voice held a trace of impatience.

  Daron tried to sound confident. “Just hold on. Backup is on its way. Stay alert, and stay together. We'll get Echo and Foxtrot out.”

  Echo's camera feed blanked out, and Daron prayed he was still alive.

  The tracker display showed Jarrod as motionless near the outside wall of the second floor. For a few seconds, there was silence, and Daron could hear is own heart pulsing in his ears. He contacted Alpha. “Can you give me a report on Delta's condition?”

  Delta was the one to respond. “I'm fine. He must have choked me out, but I'm good now.”

  Daron frowned. It was another example of Jarrod using non-injurious techniques. The image of the melting face with thorns for teeth popped into his head, and he wasn't sure Echo and Foxtrot had been shown the same mercy.

  “Lead, this is Vehicle One. We are in position.”

  Daron tapped on his keyboard, and eight camera feeds popped up on his central monitor. The men were lined up outside the entrance to the factory.

  “Head straight to the third floor and regroup with Alpha. Then we can focus on rescuing the other two.”

  “Hang on, do you hear that?” It was Bravo this time.

  “Negative, Bravo,” Daron responded. “What is it?”

  “I hear it,” Alpha chimed in. “One of our guys on the second floor is calling for help.”

  Or maybe it’s a trap, Daron thought. “Proceed as ordered. Do not move to the second floor until you get my signal.”

  The second team's cameras showed them entering the building and moving toward the stairwell. As the last man cleared the doorway, the tracker pinged with movement. Jarrod appeared to be heading away from the building. Daron was about to give an update, but he hesitated. Jarrod's signal moved down the street impossibly fast. Waiting for a full five seconds, Daron adjusted his radio to address everyone. “Target has left the structure and is leaving the area to the east. Ground teams, move directly to the second floor. Sparrow, do you have eyes on the target?”

  “Negative.” The high-pitched buzz of the helicopter could be heard in Sparrow's response. “But we are tracking him and will maintain pursuit.”

  “Copy, Sparrow. I'll be in touch when we are ready for a ground response.” Daron's fists were still clenched in anticipation. He glanced from monitor to monitor, hoping to see signs of his missing team members. He finally breathed a sigh of relief when Echo and Foxtrot came into view on Bravo's camera.

  “Got em.” Bravo said, his voice breaking into a chuckle. “Looks like they're okay.”

  Confusion spread across Daron's face, but he kept watching. Echo and Foxtrot were awake and wriggling on the floor. Their body armor had been stripped, and they were both wearing the same shirt. The sleeves had been tied around them and their legs were stretched above their heads, their boot laces tied to one another's. The result was a position that would be uncomfortable for the most practiced of yoga instructors.

  Daron sighed. They were alive, which was all he could ask for. He waited for Bravo to finish untying them before he gave his orders. “Get equipment accountability and rally outside. We're going after him.”

  21

  Emily sat with her arms crossed, glaring across the table at Wagner, who seemed incapable of meeting her gaze. He tapped on his tablet, adjusted his glasses, checked the clock for the tenth time, and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.

  Clearing his throat, he said, “The report is nearly finalized. I just need input from the server room technician. Would you like me to read it back to you, to make sure I have the details correct?”

  “I would like to go home and get some sleep,” Emily replied. “Since that doesn’t seem like it is going to happen any time soon, I would love to hear your report.”

  Wagner wiped his brow again and began to read. “Memorandum for breach of security protocols: Doctor Emily Roberts was temporarily held under suspicion of intentionally breaching the server room security measures, which were well known to her. This breach occurred during a complete facility lockdown, and allowed for the escape of subject Four-Seven-Charlie. In the server room, Dr. Roberts willfully—“

  Emily slammed a fist on the table, causing Wagner to jolt and drop his tablet. “You didn’t hear a single thing I said!” she shouted. “You just want to cover your own wrinkly ass! This is your fault, and you aren’t going to pin it on me. If you think I’ll just roll over and let you file whatever you want in that report, think again!”

  “I—I…” Wagner stammered.

  “You are going to start that report over,” Emily finished for him. She made
a writing motion in the air with her hand and raised her eyebrows expectantly. Wagner fumbled with his tablet, set it on the table, and attached a keyboard to it. More sweat cascaded down his face, but he kept his hands a few inches above the table, ready to type.

  “Listen carefully,” Emily warned. “I did not willfully breach anything. Jarrod’s escape was your fault, not mine. After the incident with Eugene, I was worried that Jarrod was too unstable for Phase Three. I visited the server room repeatedly to access my notes in the archive. You can check the log. I had almost given up when Jarrod was wheeled into the operating room, but I talked to San and decided to take one more look at the files.

  “Sure enough,” Emily said, smirking. “I found it. There was hard evidence that Jarrod might become unstable during Phase Three. I was about to go get you and bring you back to look at it, but when I stood up and walked to the door, the thing didn’t open. I banged on it, yelled, even hit it with a chair, but I could get out.”

  Emily crossed her arms. “I’ll admit I was mad, and I wasn’t thinking clearly. I didn’t know why I was trapped in the server room, but I knew I had to get you the information as quickly as possible. I always carry a thumb drive to move data to and from the server, so I thought I could put the files on it and bring them to you. I mistakenly plugged in the data stick that I use for my work upstairs. It isn’t cleared on the system for use in the server room, so the breach alarm went off. It wasn’t my fault Jarrod escaped. I didn’t even know what was happening.”

  Wagner finished typing and sat back, but said nothing.

  “And,” Emily added, “if you think I would ever help a violent, desperate patient escape from my care, then you’re a bigger idiot than I realized.”

  Wagner pursed his lips and finally met her gaze. “If it is all the same to you, I would like to hear if the server room technician corroborates or contradicts your story.”