Running with the Horde (Book 2): Delusions of Monsters

by Joseph K. Richard

  “And you are?”

  “Bill McCloud,” he replied with a hint of impatience at her apparent senior moment.

  She glanced down at her ancient appointment book and adjusted her spectacles to read it, tracing down the list of carefully written cursive names with one boney finger. “Ah yes, here you are, Mr. William J. McCloud. Do you have identification?” she asked.

  “Are you joking?”

  “I do not joke, sir.”

  Bill sighed but dug through his jacket pocket until he located his wallet. He handed over his identification. She stared at it with great intensity as if she suspected fraud. He half expected her to pull out a black light to further inspect it. “Are you satisfied, ma’am?” he asked after he tired of waiting.

  “Rarely, young man,” she replied with the slightest of grins. “However, I believe your identification is in order. Mr. Shipman will see you now. You may proceed to his office. Through the door, at the end of the hallway, you will find his name on the door.”

  Bill knew full well where Shipman’s office was, he’d been there many times before but he let the lady finish her speech before heading back. It was the gentlemanly thing to do.

  Approaching the frosted glass door at the end of the hall, he could hear Shipman blabbing away in an animated tone. He stifled a weary sigh because he knew he was likely to be kept waiting again for the duration of call. There was nothing to be done about it. If Chip’s claims had any merit Shipman would know. It was merely a matter of determining what he would have to lose in the information exchange. Doing business with the devil always cost more than a person is willing to pay. He paused outside the door, put his jacket on and straightened his tie. Image successfully maintained he exhaled, opened the door and strolled inside.

  Any resemblance Shipman’s office bore to the dingy lobby was immediately lost to McCloud as he stepped into the arctic confines of the room decorated in waspish opulence.

  “Flowers is a boorish rube,” Shipman said into his phone with a toothy smile. He was reclining in his leather chair with his gleaming brown Oxfords propped up on the massive mahogany desk. Both the desk and the shoes were polished so well, Shipman’s feet appeared to be rooted in the wood. He flashed Bill a quick look and an apologetic smile. He gestured toward one of the guest chairs situated across from his desk and mimed a talking motion with his hand. His expression was one of feigned annoyance but Bill knew better, Shipman was enjoying making him wait.

  “Listen, Swanny, I’ve got to run. I will be in touch if anything develops you should know about.” A pause while Shipman listened to Swanny’s reply with a concerned look on his face. “Very good, bye now.”

  Shipman deftly kicked his legs off the desk and hopped to his feet. “Drink?” he asked McCloud.

  “Please.”

  Shipman strolled to a cabinet behind his desk and poured two fingers of good scotch into a couple of glasses. He walked back to his desk and slid McCloud’s across with a sigh as he sat back down.

  When both men had glasses in hand Shipman raised his in a toast. “To simpler times,” he said with a sad smile.

  “Indeed,” McCloud replied with his own grim expression. Shipman clearly remembered their time in active service more fondly than Bill did.

  “So what brings you to my door on this fine spring day?”

  “Cut the shit, Nolan, you know why I am here,” Bill said as he pulled a file from his portfolio and tossed it on the desk in front of his frenemy. Shipman plucked it up and did a quick scan of the information inside. Bill was betting this wasn’t the first time Shipman had seen it.

  “Never figured you to be a Bigfoot chaser,” Shipman chuckled.

  “Fuck, Bigfoot, is this shit for real or not?”

  “You probably would fuck Bigfoot,” Shipman grumbled as he continued looking through the documents. Bill gave him a minute to finish pretending he’d never seen the file before clearing his throat. “Where’d you get this?” Shipman asked as he looked up.

  Bill thought he detected a slight tremor in the man’s question. That was unsettling. Shipman was afraid. “What does it matter? Was this some kind of stupid hoax for you and Chip? Having one over on old Bill? Is that it?”

  “What if I told you to walk away from this, Bill? Leave the city and head for the hills don’t look back, would you do it?” Shipman asked seriously, locking eyes with McCloud.

  “No more than you would if our positions were reversed, Nolan. The only difference is if I was in your shoes I would be trying to expose this thing before they can go through with it not trying to exploit it. You see how crazy this is, don’t you? What about this Syndicate business?”

  Nolan Shipman let out a deep sigh and then laughed. “The Syndicate is nothing more than the crazy dream of Chip Fielding’s LSD addled mind. God rest his soul. You really are better than this, Bill, where is your tinfoil hat?”

  “C’mon, Nolan, my tinfoil hat is sitting on the same shelf as yours. Now don’t be a hypocrite. You forget I’ve known you since before you had pubic hair. We’ve always known there was a little truth to the rumors of some all-powerful organization pulling strings in the background. There was just too much evidence out there. Shit, we might have been working for them and didn’t even know it! If there is a chance they are going to come out of the closet now then we need to be ready for them when they do.”

  “Geez, so based on one old drug addict’s crazy letter you suddenly believe in global mind control technology and an all-powerful over-world Syndicate?” Shipman chuckled. “Maybe you should try to track down our old company shrink.”

  “Fuck you, Nolan,” McCloud said as he stood and snatched the file from his old friend’s hand. “What about the Safety First Act? I know you are involved in the land grabs and government contracts on all that construction around the city. Why so many troops? Why do we really need a walled city? I will assume your official position is no comment and your unofficial position is that you will continue to happily line your pockets with Uncle Sam’s money.”

  “Hey, calm down, old friend. If I thought this Syndicate group was a legitimate threat to the city, or hell, the world, if this information is to be believed, I would agree it was crazy and would join you on the high horse of civic righteous. Shit, we could storm the capital together. But the fact is I deal with loons all the time so I know one when I see one. Sad to say Chip Fielding was a loon, God bless him. Do yourself a favor and let this go. As far as Safety First goes it might as well be me that makes a little extra money. If not me then someone else would be brokering the deals. This way I can keep an eye on things,” he added with a wink. “I would be glad to cut you in for old-time’s sake.”

  “No thanks. Always a laugh riot, Nolan,” McCloud said testily as he tugged his jacket on and made a beeline for the door, “I hope you’re still laughing when all your money is as worthless as the paper it’s printed on.”

  “Thanks for dropping by, Billy,” Shipman yelled cheerfully to McCloud’s retreating form. The only response from Bill was a proffered middle finger just before the door slammed shut.

  …

  Shipman unconsciously hummed a few bars fromYou Are My Sunshine as he waited for Bill to leave. When he was confident McCloud was gone, he dug his ‘secret phone’ out of his jacket pocket and selected ‘Command’ from the short list of contacts. A short pause and one ring later a gruff voice answered the call. “Command.”

  “McCloud is going to be a problem.”

  “How much does he know?”

  “Quite a bit actually, though no sane media outlet would ever believe him. He must have received the same package as I did from Chip Fielding.”

  “We’ll handle it; you did well to contact us.”

  “As if I had a choice.”

  “Always good to know where you stand, Mr. Shipman, easier to stay healthy and wealthy that way.”

  “Right,” Shipman responded after a nervous swallow. The call hung in the balance of an uncomfortable pause and Nola
n almost disconnected before reconsidering. “Wait,” he said.

  “Was there something else, Mr. Shipman?”

  “Um, will you? When you ‘handle it’ I mean. Will you make it fast? Bill is an old friend.”

  “Is that what you want, Mr. Shipman?”

  It was in that moment Shipman truly realized he was in way over his head and instantly regretted making this call. He regretted all of it but it was far too late for a change of heart. “You know what? Let’s just forget I said anything. Okay? Hello?” But he was talking to himself, Command had already disconnected.

  Chapter 19: Midnight Run at Area 51

  The Past

  Dick was brooding in his Area 51 quarters trying figure out the best way to expedite his exit strategy. They had discovered the coded blankets. By now they had to know Dick was responsible for the breach. He knew at any moment the Syndicate would require the facility go into lockdown. He had to be ready before that happened or he would be locked in his quarters waiting for security to come get him. The fact they hadn’t moved on him already was almost puzzling.

  Dr. Penrod was recovering in the infirmary. Not from any physical damage Dick had done to him but from a psychological breakdown he suffered when Dick had shown him the video footage of what had been done to his mother and that goddamn Chip Fielding.

  Penrod had gone berserk when he saw the video. A strong sedative had been required to calm him down. Dick was happy to inflict some misery on the little weasel but on the downside, Andrew would be essentially useless until he woke up. Dick needed all hands on deck if he was going to get essential personnel out alive. He needed every last one of them for leverage against the Syndicate.

  He still couldn’t believe Andrew’s stepfather had been an operative and somehow everyone had missed it! The man had a history with a supposedly defunct black operations agency that had operated during the latter half of the previous century. On the plus side was the fact that little detail had slipped through the cracks and gone unnoticed by the Syndicate. That proved they weren’t all-knowing. But in the negative column was the knowledge they would blame Dick for the oversight. Shit rolls downhill that’s just the way it goes. Just like it rolled down from Dick to Penrod. While the little asshole was still essential personnel, he had needed to be taught a lesson. Hence Dick had shown him the video archiving the dreadful demise of his folks. He almost felt sorry for the kid but then he thought of those coded blankets and all sympathy went out the window.

  Andrew Penrod, that sally, panty-waist, cross-stitching motherfucker. Or crochet or whatever the fuck it was called. It was laughable on one level that the hobby of Midwestern grandmothers had almost brought down Project Simon before it even started.

  Though Dick had to hand it to the man. The blankets were a stroke of genius. In a facility as secure as Area 51, Andrew had found the one possible loophole that existed. That was Dick himself, Andrew’s only connection to the outside world. He cursed himself again for allowing the little turd to do to him what Dick had done to countless others using the careful art of manipulation. Andrew had almost ruined everything. Not that it mattered anymore.

  The thing that did matter was that because of Andrew’s coded message, the Syndicate would be on high alert. He was sure they were moments from terminating him and having someone else oversee Project Simon for the remainder of the pilot. Dick wasn’t going to give them that chance. It was earlier than he planned but it was time to blow the whole thing up. He was going to get out or die trying.

  Firing off a quick instant message through the Area 51 network he called for an immediate emergency meeting of the department heads in Dr. Reynolds’s lab. Attendance was mandatory and the subject was contingency planning for the Penrod Blanket Breach which was already common knowledge throughout the facility thanks to office gossip. Then he went to his closet and pulled a shoebox from the top shelf. Inside was his well-oiled Sig Sauer P220, four magazines, his shoulder holster and the remote detonator for the charges he had planted. He put the holster on as fast as he could and slipped the detonator in his jacket pocket in case they were already monitoring him on the cameras hidden throughout the room.

  Dick dressed in clothes suitable for hiking, slung his bag of supplies over his back and headed out the door.

  His first stop was the infirmary where he found Andrew Penrod asleep on a hospital bed under the care of the night nurse. “Wake him up,” he ordered.

  “I don’t think I can, sir, he was pretty heavily sedated,” the frightened nurse replied.

  “Fine I’ll do it. Get some smelling salts immediately. Dr. Penrod has some questions to answer.” When the nurse didn’t move right away Dick screamed at her and she hustled to a nearby supply cabinet to find what he needed. Dick saw a wheelchair in the corner of the room and pushed it beside the bed.

  “Here you go,” the nurse said and handed him a small paper bag.

  “Help me get him in the chair,” Dick said gruffly and the two of them wrestled Andrew’s drooling form into the chair while Andrew uttered unintelligible words of protest.

  “Where are you taking him?” the nurse asked.

  Dick let his irritation show on his face. He wasn’t used to anyone inside of Area 51 questioning his orders. “Tell you what,” he said. “When you are appointed director of this facility that is when I will start answering your questions. Now help me get him down to the tech lab.”

  The nurse did the pushing as they made their way down the hall. Dick was trying to look casual and not move too quickly as they passed a handful of people milling about the commons area in front of the gym and cafeteria. In spite of this, the odd trio received quite a few confused looks which made Dick nervous. He breathed a sigh of relief when they made it to John’s lab and he could shut the doors.

  “Wheel him over to the corner please and then you can leave,” he told the nurse before turning to address John, Todd, Dharmesh, Sarah and Savannah who were already in the room.

  “What’s this all about, Dick?” John said. “Why did you bring Andrew in here? Isn’t he supposed to be in lockdown?”

  “Listen, I don’t have a lot of time to explain so I just need you all to trust me and do exactly as I say. The facility has come under attack and I need to get you all out of here as quickly as possible.”

  The group shared a few looks of confusion and dismay except for Todd who already knew what was happening. He just giggled. John looked like he was about to object when Dick cut him off. “I’m not fucking around here people. John, I want you to collect all your tech from Project Simon. That includes any data you have stored as well. Stick it all into anything we can divide up and carry out of here. The rest of you help John, you have five minutes.”

  They still looked confused but knew better than to question Dick. If the man said the building was under attack then it was under attack.

  “Todd, did you bring everything?” Dick asked and Todd nodded, “Good, you are on now on Andrew duty. When it’s time to move you are pushing him. Don’t give me that look. If he dies, you die, got it? Let’s go people!”

  “We are not going to be able to carry all this stuff,” John said.

  Dick looked around until he spotted the nurse still cowering by the door. “You!” he yelled. “Change of plans, grab a crate. It’s your lucky day, you’re coming with us.”

  The nurse looked terrified but compliant as she grabbed some of the gear.

  A few moments later the group of disheveled scientists, engineers and one nurse were gathered behind Dick who stood waiting by the doors with his hands on the levers. “Okay, we are going to walk out of here and head to room 113. Do not talk to anyone. I will be right behind you.”

  He opened the doors and they moved out just as the siren started humming over the facility-wide PA system.“Area 51 will be in lockdown in approximately 5 minutes. All personnel must return to quarters immediately.” A robotic voice began a countdown and provided an ominous feel to the rapidly emptying hallway.

&nbs
p; “What’s going on, Dick?” Sarah asked from behind him.

  “Don’t panic, everyone, just do as instructed, this is all part of procedure, we have to protect Project Simon at all costs,” he said and paused in the hallway. The others hurried past him shouldering their burdens in a variety of satchels and crates. Dick pulled his gun from his holster and began to harangue the group to pick up the pace. “C’mon hustle, people, keep it moving.”

  They were almost to 113 when the countdown paused at two minutes forty six seconds. The voice that spoke over the speaker system was eerily clear in the almost empty hallway. It made Dick freeze momentarily in anticipation of a gut-wrenching headache. “What do you think you will accomplish with this little display of rebellion, Dick?”

  The headache never came so Tom was obviously not nearby.

  “What’s going on, Dick?” a very nervous John asked over the scared mumbling of his colleagues gathered in front of room 113.

  “Nothing, don’t listen to it, stand aside so I can open the door.”

  They cleared a path, staring at each other in wide-eyed fear.

  “Dick is finished,” the voice continued. “But there is still time for the rest of you. A security team is en route as we speak. Go back to the technology lab with all your gear and we will be with you shortly.”

  “Nobody is going anywhere!” Dick shouted as he struggled with the door. It wouldn’t open to his card. “Stand back,” he said and showed them the gun, “If anyone feels the urge to listen to the voice and go back to the lab now is your chance.”

  The nurse looked around wildly, dropped her crate and made a break for it. Dick let her take a few panicky strides before he shot her in the back. The group let out a surprised shout almost in unison as the nurse grunted and dropped to the floor, her body convulsing as she died. As one they turned to look at Dick in stark terror.

  Dick said, “Anyone else want to go back to the lab?”

  Nobody did.

  With the matter apparently settled he turned his attention to the door and fired two shots into the locking mechanism. With the lock broken, the door flew open after a series of swift kicks. The lights came up automatically as Dick practically pushed everyone inside.