Lies (The David Chance Series Book 3)

by Hileman, John Michael

  She nodded, but it was more like a shiver. Her whole body was trembling. David's was not. In fact, his face looked almost peaceful. When had he become so strong? Not that he was ever weak, but there was something new in his eyes, a confidence that hadn’t been there before. Her soul drank it in, like water from a cold spring.

  "Go, go, go!" said Collins, from the stairwell landing.

  The FBI agents disappeared into the open door, one after the next, until it was their turn. They stepped into the dreary hall with its brown rug and grey-painted brick walls. Even the exposed pipes that ran up the walls and along the ceiling were painted grey. There were shouts coming from a room down the hall. Three SWAT members were standing outside a door, waiting to go in. The FBI took up position to guard around them. Sharon and David hung back.

  A man in a tie came running out from a door across the hall from them. Like the other employees in the hallway, he had a bewildered look on his face. "What's going on?"

  "Make your way to the exit," said one of the agents.

  The man appeared shell shocked. His eyes found their way toward the room where the sound was coming from and he started meandering in that direction, like a fly caught in the hypnotic tractor beam of a bug light.

  "Sir! Make your way to the exit!" said the agent again.

  "Craig's in there," said the man, dazed.

  "Sir. You need to leave, now!"

  "My friend," he said, connecting to the one talking to him. "My friend is in there. What's going on?"

  The agent stood in his way and, holding his gun to the man's chest, pushed him back toward David and Sharon. "Move to the exit, sir!"

  The man stumbled backward, looking down at the pointed weapon. His eyes grew fierce. "What? You gonna shoot me?" A loud pop filled the hallway, and the man fell to the ground with a twist.

  Sharon leaped back against the wall and looked down at the man, squirming on the ground. His movement slowed to a complete stop and he lay still, sprawled out on his back with a tranquilizer dart sticking straight up from his chest. Two agents dragged him back into the room he had come out of, and Sharon caught glimpses of them as they did a sweep of the room.

  A loud screech echoed.

  Up the hall, where the noises were coming from, an officer dragged a wounded man through an open door. Agents fired a burst of darts into the room, but it wasn't enough to stop the monster.

  Sharon screamed as the half-naked man leapt out, clutched both officers by the front of their vests, and drove them back against the officer who was dragging the wounded man. The three smashed against the far wall and two fell to the ground. The half-naked man with crazed eyes and spittle-covered beard held the other as a shield and retreated backwards down the hall.

  Collins and his men pursued with weapons ready.

  "Come on," said David, clutching her hand.

  They pressed in on the man, waiting for a shot, but no opening came. The deranged man with his protruding rib cage and tattered camo pants made it all the way to the end and disappeared through a door on the right, dragging the officer with him. Collins and his team surged forward and came to a halt as the officer’s body was launched back through the door and hit the floor like a rag doll. The lead FBI agent snapped a look around the door. "He's on the run!"

  The team pushed in, and David tugged on Sharon’s hand. She lurched forward on shaky legs, keeping her eyes from looking at the downed officers. By the sound of their screams, she knew they had broken bones. Her eyes stayed focused on David's arm and his strong grip on her hand. The rest was a vibrating blur of activity as they ran.

  They pushed through the door. It was another hallway running deeper into the guts of the building. They sprinted to the end and descended a set of concrete stairs that led to the door of a loading dock area.

  Sharon and David stayed at the entrance of the loading dock, watching the team as they raced down the iron stairs and broke off into two groups. Collins pulled the scoped rifle from his back and rested the barrel on the top of the iron railing. The possessed man had gone behind a wall of barrels in the middle of the room and it looked like he might come out on the other side. Collins sighted in on the spot. Agents weaved through pallets of stacked electronic scrap and pressed in on both sides of the barrels.

  "Bravo team hold," said Collins.

  The group of agents on the left came to a halt.

  "Alpha team, flush him out. Bravo, get ready to lay down fire."

  The group on the right inched toward the barrels with weapons ready. Sharon stared, unblinking. She feared what she was about to witness, but couldn't pull her eyes away.

  They rounded the corner and came to a stop.

  After a short pause, Collins spoke. "What do you mean he's gone?"

  David's finger shot up. "THERE!"

  On the ceiling, through a mess of intersecting metal rafters, the man appeared. He had crawled up on the far side of the center support girder.

  "He's above you," said Collins in an even tone.

  All agents lifted their weapons toward the ceiling and let loose a volley of darts. The possessed man crashed down on a metal intersection and his body became still.

  Did they get him?

  Sharon's heart leaped in her chest as the man sprang to life and ripped a ventilation grid from a duct in the ceiling. It clamored and clanged as it fell through the rafters.

  The agents let off another round of darts, but the man scurried up into the vent with inhuman agility. The darts bounced off the ceiling with a dozen metallic thumps.

  "Charlie, are you in position?" said Collins to the ground. "He's headed your way through the ventilation duct." His eyes came up. "Come on. Let's take the side stairs."

  Sharon pressed into David as Collins passed by and joined the agents behind them.

  David stepped out around her. "Collins! You were going to sweep every floor for my son! What if this guy is trying to distract us from the kidnapper?"

  Collins faced towards them. "We already know where your son is."

  Sharon was unable to contain herself. "Where?!"

  "We're getting reports that a man took a child to the eighth floor. Witnesses say the child was resisting, but they thought it was because he was being disobedient. They are currently holding up in a science development firm near the back of the building. The stairwells are blocked on the fourth floor. There’s nowhere to run, except up. We'll get them."

  The metal stairwell leading down to the loading dock shook as the agents came back up. They squeezed by and filled the hallway.

  Collins spoke into his two-way radio. "SWAT, secure the ground floor. Bravo, assist Charlie with containing the threat. Alpha, you're with me. We'll head straight up to the eighth floor and close in from the escape routes. I don't want this guy getting out of here."

  They took the stairs up eight levels and came out on a floor with wood paneled walls and 70’s carpet on the floor. The small team of FBI agents split—and a dark stillness filled the air. Collins and three others led David and Sharon left down the hall. The other team went right. No sounds were coming from any of the doors as they passed by. Were they empty? Had they evacuated? They came to the end, turned the corner, and ran into a young Indian man in a lab coat coming down the hall. By all appearances, he was in shock.

  Collins stopped him. "Are you coming from Kanton Lab?"

  The man looked up blankly, made a quick assessment of Collins and his men, and—with a speed Sharon didn't believe possible—sent Collins flying and disarmed the man standing next to him.

  The other two agents brought their weapons up, but the Indian man pivoted and threw the first agent into them.

  Sharon screeched and jumped back as the men fell in a clump at her feet.

  With the reflexes of a cat, the Indian man was in the air, landing on top of them, biting and scratching at their exposed skin. Sharon wanted to react. She wanted to stop him. But a paralysis of fear took hold of her body. She could only watch in horror as the men struggled
and screamed, their blood splattering the walls with each turn of the man's vein-protruding neck.

  He would come for her next. He would climb over their lifeless bodies and do to her what he was doing to them. She knew it with a cold certainty, but she was unable to force the terror from her head.

  One of the agents managed to get a gun out and fired three shots. Two flew past the crazed man's waist and lodged themselves in the ceiling. One hit its mark. But in the sprawling mass of flailing limbs she couldn't see where. If it had burrowed itself in his flesh, he showed no signs of it. His hand shot out and gripped the gun, along with the agent’s fingers. With a turn, the agent’s hand twisted into an unnatural position. A scream of agony filled the corridor.

  God in heaven! Sharon screamed inwardly. He broke it! He broke his wrist! There was no effort involved. These FBI agents were dry twigs to the demon inside this man. He let out a snarling howl as his clenched fists drove down on the agents like a jackhammer, connecting with chest and jaw and limbs with unfocused aggression.

  She watched. Frozen in shock. Helpless.

  Then it was like someone turned the speed down on a projector reel. The Indian man began to slow, as though he were punching through water. Slowly, his body deflated like a parade balloon. Behind him, Collins stood with his weapon trained. As the man lurched forward a mass of darts—littering his rear end—came into view.

  Screams came from the lump of men, and Sharon found her mobility again. She crouched down and started pulling to help the men out.

  "David! Help!" she said, gripping an agent by the arm.

  Collins flipped his weapon around to his back and slid the Indian man off the pile. The limp body hit the floor with a thump.

  "David!" Sharon said again. "Help me!" She looked over her shoulder.

  Dread stabbed a steely spike into her heart. She hadn't wondered why he didn't help when the agents were being attacked by the crazed lab worker, she’d assumed he was frozen in fear, like her. But he wasn't. He wasn't there at all. The hallway was empty. David was gone.

  Chapter 17

  "DAVID!"

  Sharon's high-pitched screech reverberated off the walls of the hallway as she broke into a run.

  Collins called after her. "Sharon! Stay here! It's not safe!"

  But desperation and panic pushed her forward with no concern for her own safety. She slammed into a door on the right and rattled the handle. It was locked. She ran across and tried the next, and the next. The doors that opened revealed empty business offices, but no sign of her husband. She screamed out again. "David!"

  There was no response.

  Collins jogged up behind her. "What are you doing?"

  "He's here! He has to be. There wasn't time for them to take him all the way to the end of the hall."

  Collins gripped her arm. "Unless they took hold of him." He emphasized the world, hold.

  "Are you out of your mind?!" she said, yanking her arm from his grip. "They can't possess us!"

  "No one is safe from their technology," he said, stoically.

  "Technology?" she spat with distaste. "How can you possibly believe that garbage? This isn't technology. They’re demons!" The knob in her hand twisted and the door swung open, revealing two adjoining offices. Both were void of life.

  "Whatever they are," said Collins, his weary eyes scanning for danger," is irrelevant. These creatures can take over any human body as long as they don't violate the conscience of their human host. I've seen it over and over. It’s nothing for them to take hold of David and make him go wherever they want him to."

  She started across to the other side of the hall. "You're wrong. They can't take over anyone they want. That would be a breach of free will."

  "Look!" he said. "Can we argue about this later? Whatever happened to your husband, the fact remains, he can't leave this building without us knowing. It is surrounded. Right now, we need to concentrate on getting your son back."

  She tried the next doorknob. It was locked.

  "Are you listening to me? We need your help to get Ben back. He's here, on this floor. But we don't know what they’re planning. We need your messages to help us piece this thing together."

  The messages! He was right! They would have the answer. Would David still be here if she had seen one? She froze. What if David got a message. Maybe that’s why he disappeared. But—he would have told her. He wouldn't have just run off. Right?

  There was no time for speculation. She had to find words. She started jogging back toward the downed soldiers to where she had seen a large bulletin board. It was littered with posters, safety check lists, assorted communal notes... Her eyes began their search, and the words began to string together in her head.

  "Do you see something?" said Collins, coming up beside her.

  "Shhhhh." She waved.

  The words had stopped coming, but the message felt incomplete. Forward and steady. It will be. She twirled around. Where will it be? Would the messages reveal the location of the kidnapper? Her eyes stopped on a fire extinguisher across the hall. She walked toward it. Her eyes focused on a white sticker at its base. As she neared, a word came into view. All. It will be all. All what?

  With one more twitch, her eyes found the final word. Right.

  Forward and steady. It will be all right.

  It wasn't directions on how to find her son or how to save him, but it had the same effect on her fried nerves. In the truth of the message she understood the full implication. This was all happening for a reason, a very important reason, and her son would not be collateral damage. It will be all right. She would have preferred an exact plan, but at least this was something. But what about David? She stepped back from the extinguisher.

  Collins' calm voice brought her out of her contemplation. "What did they say?"

  She brought his face into focus. "He says forward and steady. It will be all right."

  "Forward? To the end of the hall?"

  "I think so."

  "Was there any indication of how many, or how heavily armed they are?"

  "No. Nothing like that."

  "We need something tactical, Sharon." He didn't raise his voice, he simply laid the facts out. "They could kill your son as soon as they see us coming."

  She shook off a shiver. "No. He'll be all right. We have to move forward, the same as we were."

  Collins’ brow tightened, but the rest of his face remained in the same unemotional expression he seemed always to possess. "All right," he said, "if that is what we have to go on, that's what we have to go on." With eyes still on her, he took a step back and waited to see what she would do next.

  She went back to where the rest of the team sat hunkered down in the second hallway. One kept guard, while another treated his fallen teammate with the broken wrist.

  "How is he?" said Collin, crouching down.

  "I got the wrist back in place, but he has a broken collar bone."

  "How about you two?" He turned toward the others.

  "We're a little banged up, but we're good-to-go."

  Collins looked up the hallway. "Okay, you two stay here with Johnston, we'll scout ahead." He gave Sharon a wave of his hand and moved past the Indian man lying on his face. Sharon hugged the opposite wall as she passed. He appeared lifeless, but she wasn't taking any chances.

  Collins led her slowly down the hall and held a device up in front of each of the doors as he went. The blue screen on the device flickered with white ghosted images, but she could not make out what the images were supposed to represent. They worked their way to the end.

  "Now what?" he said quietly over his shoulder.

  She shrunk back. "What?" she whispered.

  "There’s nobody in any of these rooms."

  "How do you know?"

  "There isn’t a single heartbeat," he said, holding up the instrument. "No movement. Nothing."

  "I don't understand. They have to be here. Your equipment is wrong."

  "We can start kicking down doors," he
whispered, "but if they are here, we'll lose the element of surprise."

  "What about your people on the outside? Can't they look through the windows or something?"

  "They’ve been reporting to me this entire time. There hasn’t been any movement on this floor since it was evacuated."

  Sharon looked confused. "Then how do you know my son is even here?"

  Exactly on cue, Ben's voice screamed out from behind the nearest door. Collins swung his device around and scanned.

  Sharon looked at the mysterious ghosted images, then at the doorknob of the large oak door. Her impulse was to burst into the room and run to her son, but she waited on Collins.

  "Mom!" shouted Ben's distant voice.

  "What are you doing?" she screamed in a whisper. "He's in there!"

  "No," said Collins apologetically. "He's not."

  She pushed by and went for the doorknob, but Collins gripped her with a strong hand. "Let go of me! If you're not going to save him, I will!"

  "He's not in there! It's a distraction—or worse—a trap!"

  The voice cried out again. "Mom!" The familiarity and desperation of his cry sent spikes of panic into her gut.

  Collins restrained her and tried the door with his other hand. It was locked. "Step back," he said. She moved aside, and he kicked the door hard. The impact caused the frame to splinter, but the door did not open. He gave it another massive kick, and it gave way.

  Beyond the door was a dimly lit room with heavy sheets of plastic hanging from the ceiling to the floor. Buckets, planks and debris lay on the dust-covered floor. Had the plastic prevented the device from detecting Ben? Was he beyond the opaque curtains? If so, was it still a trap? No demands had been made.

  "Stay here," said Collins, lifting the barrel of his weapon toward the plastic sheets.

  "No," she whispered emphatically. "I'm going with you."

  He gave her a once-over, but did not prevent her from following.

  The air in the room was dry and smelled of powder. No sounds of struggle came from beyond the plastic sheets. All was silent. How was that possible? She was sure Ben’s voice had come from in here.