The Belial Fall

by R. D. Brady

  “Go!” Laney yelled. She blurred forward, leaping on the dumpster near the door to avoid getting shot. She jumped down on one of the gunmen, slamming him across the space and into the other one. They crashed into the wall. Jake sprinted up behind her. Laney didn’t wait for him, knowing he’d make sure the two guards were out. Glass shattered as gunfire rained into the street.

  The door was covered, so Laney went through the window, ignoring little cuts that the shards of glass left in her skin. In a glance, she took in the warehouse. New electronics still in their boxes were stacked through the space on pallets by the loading dock along the back. Empty boxes were also scattered throughout the space, along with a forklift and another dozen empty pallets. Long windows lined the walls and staircases leading up to her right and left. A catwalk was strung across the third story, and people were being ushered across it toward the roof.

  Skylights dominated the ceiling. One crashed in as Jen burst through, landing on the catwalk with the grace of a ballerina. She sprinted across the space as Laney turned for the two gunmen who’d been positioned at the door and other window.

  Laney tackled the gunman near her as he turned, her shoulder crashing into his hip as she yanked his ankles back. He fell hard, his head hitting the ground with a noticeable thunk. Laney stomped on his chest as his partner turned. She shot out with a side kick, catching him mid-chest before slamming a round kick into his knee. He screamed, dropping his gun and reaching for his obliterated knee. Laney kicked the gun away.

  Screams sounded from up the stairs, followed by gunfire. The gunfire cut off, but the cries remained.

  “We’ve got a problem, Laney!” Jen yelled through her earpiece.

  “On my way.” Laney sprinted for the stairs. Four gunmen were on the second level, heading down. Laney went through them like they were bowling pins. Each man plunged over the side to the floor of the warehouse below.

  She felt the tingle of the Fallen as she reached the third level and ducked as one leaped from the shadows, swinging a large machete at her head. Laney jumped back, landing on the catwalk as he retreated back a few steps.

  He was not what Laney had been expecting. He had short blond hair artfully held in place with product. His blue eyes sat in an almost orange face that Laney was pretty sure was regularly tanned at a tanning salon. He wore a pink polo shirt with chino shorts. She glanced at his feet before looking back at him.

  “Loafers? You’re supposed to be a big badass gang leader, and you’re wearing loafers without socks? Have some self-respect, man.”

  “The clothes make the man,” he growled, jumping toward her.

  Laney tried not to groan at the cheesiness. To be honest, the aging frat boy in front of her just ticked her off. He swung widely with the machete, letting her know he had no skills. He was relying purely on brute strength.

  She shook her head. Like a lot of Fallen, he figured because he was stronger than humans, he didn’t need anything other than that strength. Stupid, stupid boy.

  A scream sounded outside.

  “Laney!” Jen yelled.

  “Okay, enough.” Laney stepped forward as the machete swung past her. He shifted, but Laney redirected the knife to his knee with the back swing. He screamed as she sliced across his knee. She slid the knife past before burying it in the back of his thigh. He screamed again, tears streaming down his cheeks. She reached over and snapped his neck.

  Jake was already rounding the stairs, pulling out the syringe case. “I got it. Go!”

  Laney burst through the door to the roof. Jen stood on one end of the roof, her legs bent, muscles straining as she held on to the fire escape that had been wrenched away from the building. Another group of five people huddled near her. Three men were holding on to the railing with Jen, trying to keep it from plunging to the ground.

  Screams sounded from the fire escape. Laney sprinted for the edge of the building, but she couldn’t see the fire escape from this angle.

  A catwalk connected the two buildings. She leaped on it, and it groaned under her weight, but she moved to the middle anyway, where she could see the group of people clinging to the fire escape that swung in the air. There were eight people hanging on to it. Four of them were just kids.

  Calling on the wind, she steadied the fire escape. With a groan, the metal Jen held snapped.

  “No!”

  The fire escape jolted, but Laney slammed wind into each person, keeping them on it and the escape pinned to the side of the building.

  “I’ve got them!” Laney yelled. “Start pulling—”

  A second groan of metal rang out before the catwalk shuddered. Laney plunged toward the ground, along with all eight people from the fire escape.

  CHAPTER 5

  The ground was coming up fast. Laney lashed out with the wind, cushioning the group. They were spread out, but she managed to get them all and stop their descent. At the last second, she managed to get a little wind underneath her, slowing her, but she still slammed down harder than she liked. Dust and concrete flew in the air.

  The air emptied from her lungs. Pain lanced through her back and skull. Her control wavered, but she reinforced the wind, managing to get the people to the ground, touching them down lightly. She blinked her eyes, trying to focus, but everything was blurry, disjointed.

  Definitely have a skull fracture.

  “The rest are coming down with me,” Jen said through her earpiece.

  “Great,” Laney mumbled, not moving from her spot as the police hurried over to the group, who sat stunned, staring up at the top of the building.

  A black helicopter hovered to the right of her vision. She turned her head, pain lancing through it.

  Yup, definitely a skull fracture. The chopper hovered for only a few more seconds before it flew off.

  Jake hustled over, sweat on his brow, his eyes large as he knelt next to her. “Lanes, you okay?”

  Laney grunted, not even trying to move. She’d heal. But it didn’t stop the pain from each of the injuries. Right now everything hurt so bad she wanted to bite her tongue off. She held up a finger to get Jake to wait just a second. She closed her eyes, breathing shallowly as the pain began to lessen.

  After a minute, she opened her eyes. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  Jen materialized next to her, nodding toward what remained of the fire escape. “Think we have to report that?”

  “Oh, crap. Yes, and the catwalk.” She pictured the paperwork that would be required and contemplated flinging herself off the building again. It would be less painful.

  Jake helped pull Laney up, nodding to where the chopper had been. “Our friend was back.”

  Jen stared up at the sky. “Yeah. Saw them earlier. We still can’t get an answer on who they are?”

  Laney shook her head and rolled her neck, most of the pain just a dull ache now. “Nope. Apparently Stanton thinks that is not need to know.” Sourness filled her at the thought of the government representative.

  Jake grinned at Jen. “Speaking of which, I believe it is Laney’s turn to brief him.”

  Laney groaned. “No, I’m sure I did it last time.”

  “Nope, that was me,” Jake said.

  “And for some reason, he’s requested I don’t do any of the debriefs,” Jen said.

  Laney laughed. “Yeah, well, when you terrify the government official to the point that they pee their pants, they tend not to want you to speak with them. Maybe I should try that . . .”

  “Laney,” Jake warned.

  “I know, I know.” Laney sighed. She would love more than anything to avoid these stupid debriefings, but she also knew they were all on a bit of a short leash with the government. “Fine. I’ll speak with Buttface.”

  Jen snorted. “Maybe don’t call him that to his face.”

  “I make no promises.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Washington, D.C.

  Senator Bart Shremp’s black Escalade hurtled down the 295, heading for a quick meeting before a fundraising
cocktail party. His appointment to head the Committee on Enhanced Individuals (CEI) had raised his profile in Washington, which of course made him the man people wanted to meet and fund. His schedule since the appointment had been jam-packed.

  Everything was falling into place. In the next presidential election, he’d planned on dipping his toe in, make sure people knew who he was, but then he would seriously run in the election after that. He’d always planned on running for president two election cycles from now, but with his new position, if he played his cards right with this whole enhanced individuals thing, he could run seriously in this election cycle. People might just be calling him Mr. President a mere three years from now.

  And I have the Fallen to thank for that.

  The public was terrified of them. Shremp was too, but unlike the general public, he had around-the-clock protection. The frequency of Fallen incidents had dramatically increased in the last three months, and Shremp had made sure he fanned those flames of panic. People were less concerned with civil liberties and due process when they felt they were in danger, which had made it easier to get his legislation passed recently. Besides, scared people were looking for someone to step in and assure them that they would protect them from the big bad. Shremp planned on being that person and riding that all the way to the Oval Office.

  He looked at his aide Adam, who sat next to him, working quietly on his tablet. “What are the polls saying?”

  Adam Hinkel had joined Shremp’s office two years ago as a young, eager intern. Shremp had seen the hunger in the kid’s eyes to help his country and had managed to parlay that into a highly competent, if young, chief of staff.

  Adam swiped to another screen, his eyes scanning the report as he spoke. “Most people believe that the Fallen do present a risk to our nation’s safety. But those numbers are falling.”

  “Falling? Why?” he asked, even though he knew.

  “The pollsters are attributing it to two factors. First, Delaney McPhearson and the SIA’s highly publicized efforts to curtail any Fallen incidents.”

  Shremp grunted. That woman and her exploits had chased him off the front page on more than one occasion. Perhaps most gallingly, though, was she didn’t even seem to want the attention. She never did interviews. But her silence only seemed to make the public more intrigued by her. He couldn’t count the number of debates he’d overheard both onscreen and off as to whether she was a savior or a villain.

  “And the second?” he asked.

  Adam handed him the tablet. “The Chandler Group’s public relations campaign.”

  Shremp glared at the image frozen there. Molly McAdams, the smiling face of the Chandler Group’s PR campaign to humanize the Fallen. He had to admit they had chosen well. She was young, fresh-faced, and not even slightly threatening. She was the personification of young and innocent.

  He flipped through to the next picture. Molly was smiling, her eyes closed as a giant leopard leaned in to her, his eyes closed as well. The cat’s name was Zane. He was also part of the Chandler public relations campaign. Once people had learned of the genetically modified cats, panic had ensued.

  But Chandler had been prepared. He’d had the photos of Zane released almost immediately, along with the backstory of how Molly and Zane had aided people on the Day of Reckoning, the name given to the day when Samyaza had set off a bomb in the western part of the United States and ordered her Fallen to rampage through the streets all over the globe. And now it was well known that Molly and Zane were the best of friends. The two of them even did public appearances together.

  Shremp growled. The two of them had blunted all the impact of the fear the news of the genetically altered leopard had been developed to create. He’d spent hours crafting the release to make sure people were terrified

  “That young girl, Molly McAdams, has been a real hit with people,” said Adam. “She’s got a sweet girl-next-door quality to her. There’s been testimonial after testimonial about how she helped save people on the Day of Reckoning. The media started highlighting more stories about the Fallen helping people, which has affected public sentiment.”

  Shremp was barely able to keep himself from throwing the tablet back at Adam. “What about our campaign?”

  “We have exposés about the increase in Fallen incidents across the globe. And a few stories about the rash of vandalism out—”

  “Vandalism? Vandalism? These monsters are destroying lives, and we’re focusing on vandalism?” Shremp stewed. God, I’m surrounded by incompetents. “They have a poster girl for the good the Fallen can do. You need to find me a poster boy for the bad. What about that incident in Chicago? Didn’t one of them take over a town or something?”

  Adam’s fingers moved quickly over his tablet. “Not a town, but he did control a few square blocks. And the neighborhood was terrified of him.”

  “What about murders? Did he kill anyone?”

  “He’s suspected in a dozen murders, as well as extortion.”

  “Good, good. That will play well. He took some hostages, right?”

  “Yes. Two dozen.”

  “Even better. Let’s make sure the media focuses on him, and find me some others we can focus on.”

  Adam nodded, his hands flying. His head snapped up. “You know Delaney McPhearson is the one responsible for stopping him, right?”

  Shremp frowned. Ugh. He’d forgotten about her role in his apprehension. God, he really hated that woman. So damn arrogant and dismissive. She’d waltzed into her first joint chiefs meeting like she owned the place. Then she’d simply dismissed the authority of all of those in the room as if she was ordained by God.

  He paused, an idea forming. Ordained by God . . .

  “I need you to compile a list of mass murderers, serial killers, or any other kind of massively damaging individual that believed they were doing the work of God.”

  Adam frowned. “Okay. What’s the angle?”

  “I’m not entirely sure yet. But Delaney McPhearson is portraying herself as God’s soldier. Maybe we should remind people of the damage done by others who claimed the same.”

  Adam stared at him for a long moment. “I’m not sure that’s accurate. She’s not really portraying herself as anything. She doesn’t do any interviews at all.”

  Shremp narrowed his eyes. “Then her people are portraying her as God’s soldier. She’s no doubt orchestrating things behind the scenes while publicly looking as if she wants nothing to do with publicity.”

  “Maybe.” Adam drew out the word.

  “Is there a problem here, Adam? You know Delaney McPhearson is a danger to our society, don’t you?”

  Adam licked his lips, glancing out the window for a second before turning back to Shremp. “But she . . . she saved us. All of us. The entire world. She nearly died saving us.”

  “Did she really? Or was that all just a nice little public relations coup? Making it look like she was truly suffering? Besides, that was three months ago. The question you should be asking, the question everyone should be asking, is what danger does she pose to us now.”

  Adam still didn’t move, his hands unnaturally still above his tablet.

  “Are we going to have a problem with this? Because I assure you, I can find someone who—”

  “No, no. I’ve got it. I’ll—I’ll get you the information.”

  “Good.” Shremp sat back with a smile, picturing himself walking down the steps of the U.S. Capitol to be inaugurated as president. It was so real he could practically taste it. And all he had to do was make sure everyone knew how dangerous the Fallen were to society and place himself in position as the man with answers.

  And he knew exactly how he was going to do that.

  CHAPTER 7

  Baltimore, Maryland

  Stanton Calloway clicked his pen shut. “Well, that seems to cover the situation. Next time, you need to try to capture the subject with less property damage. You are not given carte blanche to do whatever you want. You are a representative of th
e government, Ms. McPhearson.”

  “Dr. McPhearson, Stan.”

  He glared. She smiled in response, knowing he hated the shortened version of his name. But being she had refrained from Buttface, she thought she deserved to get slightly under his skin.

  Stanton loaded his legal pad and pen into his briefcase. The lights of the conference room bounced off his shining bald dome, rimmed in black hair. He was only thirty-two, but his hair was already half gone. His unusually large forehead made his small eyes look even smaller. His tiny mouth was pursed as he snapped his briefcase shut. And Laney couldn’t help but agree with Jake—he really did look like an alien. Maybe they should cut him just a little to see what color his blood was.

  Stanton glared at her. “The government is watching your actions closely.”

  “Yes, I’ve noticed.” Ever since the coronation, the government had taken an active interest in Laney’s activities. While they were allegedly now all on the same side, Laney certainly did not feel that way. All members of the SIA had to detail every incident in excruciating detail, to the point that people had been suspended for failing to detail minor issues. Jake had been suspended once because he’d failed to mention that during a car chase they’d had to drive along a sidewalk for about twenty feet.

  It was ridiculous.

  “Speaking of close government relations, who’s in the black helicopter?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  Laney studied him. She believed him. As pompous and condescending as the man was, he was, in actuality, just an errand boy. He probably didn’t have clearance to know. Just like me.

  “Good day, Ms. McPhearson.” Stanton strode for the door.

  Laney stuck her tongue out at his back.

  “Well, that is very mature,” Drake drawled as he stepped into the room.

  “God, I hate that guy.”

  “Can’t say I blame you. He looks like a hot dog with eyes.”