He feels strong; he feels confident. Not letting the gravity of the situation keep him from making things light, he thinks with a grin, “Hey, if I let this one go and hit New York, maybe Dancy will stay in San Diego.”
Immediately, something collides into him from above, and then glances away. It has been observing him from afar, and now it wants to introduce itself. After bouncing off of his back, it disappears.
Upon contact, he hears a brief electric hum. For a short moment, brilliant sparks of gold surround him, forming the shape of a sphere. But within a second, both the sound and the sparks fade then vanish. For that short instant, he strangely feels himself in a freefall. The connections he has with the world - established by his sensing mind and his new vision - also vanish for that slice of time. Even the music surrounding him skips in its play.
At the moment in which he feels the most confident and almost unstoppable, something is able to take his powers away.
The phenomenon baffles him.
After regaining his equilibrium, he quickly looks around him, into the dark space above, and then down to the earth in its twilight. There is nothing. He can sense nothing else. The object that struck him remains unknown.
Now, the second missile begins to stop its climb, leveling its trajectory.
Shifting his attention, he follows above it in unison.
Far behind him, the third missile ignites its second stage motor. Its intense, yellow flames create a heat aura around it that radiates light in fantastic waves. The fiery destroyer is an amazing sight against the dark pane of the sky, and the silhouette of the earth below.
Turning his attention back to the second missile that is now over the center of the Atlantic Ocean, his mind focuses on its plutonium-uranium core and the high explosives encapsulating it.
Suddenly, in his periphery, his eyes witness a sharp ultra-high energy beam of light, coming from an unseen source. Almost instantaneously, the beam reaches and penetrates the metallic enclosure of the second missile’s warhead. It triggers a chain reaction that ignites into a devastating nuclear explosion.
In an instant, radiation blasts at every direction, releasing tons and megatons of power.
He is taken completely by surprise. Now, he realizes his earlier confidence has allowed it to happen. He says, “I should’ve kept cautious. I should’ve stayed vigilant.” He quickly understands that even though his abilities may make him feel unstoppable, there is still something out there showing him otherwise.
Coming up at him, a fast moving wave of radiation is flung closer and closer, ready to rip through his flesh. He knows he has to keep it from reaching him; he needs to slow down time.
As quickly as the thought occurs, his body begins to generate three-dimensional shock waves that bubble out from him in extraordinary speeds. Each passing wave distorts space and time, causing time and all motion to freeze momentarily. The faster he makes the shock waves come out from him, the greater he slows time. However, it is at a cost of substantial exertion from both his mind and body.
It buys him a brief moment to think. Quickly, he considers, How can I turn the energy from the radiation into a kind of matter that won’t hurt me as it passes by?
Finding a solution, he is almost sure it will work. “I’m almost sure. So, no guarantees,” he abruptly says.
With the enormous wall of radiation quickly approaching, he extends his hand, and from it, bursts a wide stream of his transformative force particles. Like a gushing wall of water smashing into a wall of fire, the force particles collide with the radiation. Instantly, the high-energy radiation is overcome and changed into molecules of water vapor. After the metamorphosis, the force particles continue forward, with power unabated. They collide with other destructive radiation and extinguish more of the nuclear explosion, leaving in their wake energetic water vapor.
The effects propagate away from him at almost the speed of light, eventually generating a giant three-dimensional pulse wave that consumes any radiation in its path.
In the blink of an eye, a tremendous cloud forms below him, created by the enormous amount of generated water vapor. But the air within it is unstable and turbulent.
Looking much further down, he sees the leading wall of the radiation travel quickly down to the earth. But the speed of the force particles is faster, and before the surface of the Atlantic Ocean is reached, the transformative pulse consumes all the destructive energy.
Seeing the danger averted, he allows time to resume its natural pace.
But now, the movement of the air within the cloud becomes tempestuous, and soon it generates flashes of lightning and bursts of thunder that make his bones tremble. Suddenly, huge billowing sections of the cloud expand to enclose him, coving him in complete darkness. To his amazement, in a split second, the cloud is already several miles in diameter and becoming more expansive. It arches and sprawls further and further out, following the curvature of the earth and plunging down to the waters below. It is now a gigantic, ominous storm cloud, coming to life with the rhythmic pulses of lightning and thunder.
The third missile speeds through the atmosphere high above him.
His mind scans the sky to find it.
Hurriedly, he disappears to chase it down.
* * * * * * *
Sik finishes tattooing Paige’s wrists, and then wipes the blood from her forehead.
Now he stands.
Strangely, for a fleeting moment, Sik almost expects the longhaired man to suddenly arrive. Quickly, glancing around, he waits. But, with no one materializing in the room, he brushes the feeling aside, with the shake of his head.
Turning and walking, he reaches a window and peers down, from his seventh floor room. At this height of the hotel’s northwest corner, he can see his black, full-sized, four-door truck parked at the back of the building, in front of the stairway exit. He shifts his gaze further out through the parking lot. There, he sees two uniformed deputies talking to a man in regular street clothing. Three cops. One is probably an undercover guy, he thinks, But I’ve got “em tricked. They’re gonna go to the wrong room. Next, he slides his eyes down to the other end of the lot. Two more uniformed men stand at that corner. Then, he says, ‘Time to move.’
In front of Room 5538, members of the SWAT team cautiously position themselves, flanked by the two FBI agents and the detective.
Standing at one side of the door handle, the lead man raises his hand. For a few short seconds, they are silently frozen, ready with guns and assault rifles drawn.
The lead man slowly lowers his hand and slides the keycard into the reader.
The LED light flickers red then transitions to green.
In an orchestrated flurry, the SWAT team bursts into the room, flooding every open area.
The lead calls out, “San Francisco Police Department! Everyone Freeze!” The team rushes in, swarming into the room.
Detective Kwan and the two agents are last to dash in.
Without loss of effort they immediately canvas and secure the room. There is no firefight, no struggle. The room is empty.
One by one, the men call out, “Bathroom clear! Closet clear! Bedroom clear!” They hold their positions.
Hurriedly, the detective and agents search the room for any signs of Sik or his belongings. They find nothing.
As the tension in the room disperses, everyone stands down.
Puzzled, Agent Etelson says, “Nothing in the drawers, nothing in the closet, nothing in the bathroom. I don’t think anyone’s ever been in this room.”
“Looks like he gave us a pump fake,” comments Stevens.
“What was that?” asks Etelson, with furrowed brows.
“You know…it’s a sports move or technique,” he explains. “Like in football, the quarterback looks at one receiver, pumps his arm, like he’s gonna throw the ball to him. That motion from the quarterback sends the defensive team in the direction of the pump fake. But actually it’s a diversion, and the quarterback ends up throwing the footba
ll to another receiver, at the opposite side of the field.”
Etelson concludes from Stevens’ analogy, “So, Kessian sets up this pattern of matching up the order of his kidnappings with the building floor numbers. From that, we conclude this next one should be on the fifth floor. But now, he changes the floor number from five…to something else. And so, the established pattern leads us to the wrong conclusion?”
“That’s what I’m sayin’,” Stevens replies. “…in so many words.”
Etelson asks, “So, now where is he? Hotel security says Kessian hasn’t left the building.”
Stevens responds, “We gotta do a floor to floor sweep.”
Detective Kwan adds, “We keep containment and secure the back and side exits. No one leaves, unless we see them going through the front entrance.”
At that moment, Detective Kwan presses the earpiece of his headset firmly into his ear and listens intently. His face immediately shows concern. Quickly, he exclaims to the agents, “Hotel security just saw a guy, through a stairway camera, carry a woman on his shoulder, going out of the northwest fire exit!”
“Let’s go, Rye!” Etelson calls to her partner. She and Stevens immediately rush out the door and head for the stairs.
Detective Kwan raises his radio to his mouth and urgently commands, “All units converge on the northwest fire exit! Suspect is on the run! Go! Go!” The SWAT officers dash out, as he follows behind them.
In the back parking lot, Sik pulls open the rear driver-side door of his truck. He quickly but carefully lays down Paige’s unconscious body on the seat.
A distance away, three officers come running to his direction, unholstering their firearms. One of them commands him, “Stop! Freeze!”
After shutting the rear door, Sik yanks open the driver door and jumps in. The powerful 10-cylinder engine starts with a roar.
A plain-clothes officer runs and reaches the car parked behind Sik.
Sik backs into the car, with wheels spinning and burning, slamming into its trunk.
Surprised, the officer lunges away.
The corner bumper of Sik’s truck folds in, and the red taillight shatters completely off. Sik takes the rumbling engine out of reverse and thunders away to his left.
The two officers on foot, from the other end of the parking lot, hear the screeching tires and make their way to try to intercept Sik’s vehicle. They run on a lane that intersects the main parking lot exit.
Reaching the middle of the parking lot, Sik turns onto the main exit lane and sideswipes two cars.
Just a few strides away, the two officers stand and take aim. They see the top of Sik’s black truck speed above the parked cars, about to intersect the lane on which they stand.
From the corner of his eye, Sik sees them raise their pistols. He slams down on the gas pedal. The tires squeal and spin, spewing smoke and melting rubber.
Once they see the truck cross their lane, the policemen fire repeatedly at the wheels. But the speed of the vehicle is too great and their field of vision across the intersecting lane is too narrow.
Sik slams on the breaks, as he hits the main road and turns right onto it.
One officer quickly radios, “Suspect heading south on Van Nesse Avenue in a black, four-door truck! Left rear bumper is dented and right side doors damaged. Hostage is in the vehicle!”
Detective Kwan leaps into his sedan. The fixed lights on the roof on the car begin to flash red and blue. The siren wails. He speeds out of the hotel’s parking lot, with Agents Stevens and Etelson in their car, immediately behind him. Up ahead, he screeches onto Van Nesse Avenue. Two other police cars race behind them. Seconds later, Detective Kwan sees two more police cars with sirens blaring two blocks ahead.
A few streets further down, Sik fearlessly zooms past a red light.
* * * * * * *
Over the Atlantic Ocean and several hundred miles from the U.S. east coast, the third missile flies unhindered, with the District of Columbia as its target. The goateed man reappears high above it, matching its supersonic speed.
At this part of the earth, the sun is still visible with dusk soon to occur over D.C.
A slight weakness momentarily overcomes him, and then fades. He thinks, It’s probably because of all that work I did back there…just needed to regenerate for a second.
His thoughts come back to the high-energy beam that triggered the second ICBM’s explosion. Someone or something must have zapped it in. Cautious, he decides to continually scan the area around him, in order to assure that nothing out of the ordinary is either nearby or approaching.
Zooming hastily across the sky, he follows the third ICBM, as it closes in on the east coast, and then begins its descent. His mind starts to see that, like the other two missiles, the warhead on this one has the same core and triggering mechanism.
Without warning, he is struck from above. This time, the object colliding into him clings onto him. From his back, he can feel an arm grab around his waist and a hand pull tightly at his hair.
Instantly, a translucent golden sphere of sparking electricity illuminates and completely surrounds both him and the one grasping him.
Once again, he loses all of his abilities.
He tries to turn his head around to see what has him in its clutches. But he cannot; the hand pulling his hair prevents his head from turning.
Quickly descending, the third missile is soon to strike the capital city below.
He struggles in futility to free himself from what holds him. Helpless, he begins to freefall through the sky. With the impact into the ocean below becoming imminent, he starts to panic.
They roll over in the air.
He now faces the light green sky above, unable to see when he will crash into the waters.
The sensation of weightlessness causes his gut and chest to tighten.
As he gasps and struggles, a rush of fear overcomes him.
* * * * * * *
Outside the enormous multi-screen room, an officer asks Omar Malshar Gul to join the two generals inside.
Gul is both very honored and very nervous, as he steps into the theater. He stops behind the second row of stations, at an arm’s length from General Parsin, and then fixes his gaze upon the huge screens on the wall.
Focusing on Screen 2, Gul sees an elongated Cartesian map of the earth with weather patterns overlaid. An enormous storm cloud appears slowly spinning over the center of the Atlantic Ocean, in the northern hemisphere.
Gul shifts his gaze onto Screen 3. On it is a zoomed-in view of Southern Europe, Northern Africa, and the Middle East. Three pulsating icons appear over the border of Iran and Iraq, signifying the three missiles launched from there.
All eyes follow the third missile’s short path across Iraq. Then, when it enters the outer atmosphere, global satellites lose its position, and it disappears from the screen. Now, in deep consternation, they await for the missile’s reemergence.
General Parsin’s eyes are also on Screen 3, as he towers above Gul. In his dire need to understand what he has just seen, he speaks to Gul slowly and patiently so that his words are clearly understood. He begins, “Mr. Gul, earlier you informed me that today - not next week, not next month - but this very day five nuclear missiles would be launched. We just witnessed three launches of those five. The first disappeared, as it entered the atmosphere above Israel. The second was lost and never re-detected by our satellites; instead, surprisingly, a massive storm cloud appeared above the Atlantic Ocean where the second missile should have been. Furthermore, still within your prediction, just moments ago, we saw the launch of the third missile.”
The General pauses to breathe slowly and deeply. Further detailing his thoughts to Gul, he says, “Even though what we’ve seen can already be categorized as a clear act of war, I’d rather not send this country and the world into the oblivion of nuclear war. The President is ready to immediately command a retaliatory strike, with kinetic nuclear assets - that means, Mr. Gul, we deploy our own nuclear missil
es.”
Gul’s eyes widen.
Parsin continues, “Based on what we have witnessed from the first two missiles, General Tomer and I have advised the President to hold his retaliatory launch command. And he has cautiously and tenuously agreed, but is fervently awaiting immediate reassessment.”
General Parsin finally turns to Gul. With a moderately pleasant smile, intended to relieve some of Gul’s tension, he says, “What that plainly means, Mr. Gul, is that I have an urgent need of you to give us any and all additional information you have, concerning our current dire situation.”
The General’s statements weigh heavily on Gul, and he is momentarily at a loss of words. Finally, he says, “Mr. General Parsin, sir.” He glances at the large screens, and then nervously turns his eyes back to the General. “General, these are indeed nuclear missiles…so the situation is grave, I agree. And why there is now a big, huge cloud over the ocean…I cannot and do not dare to explain.”
Gul’s eyes scan the room, and he sees many faces watching him. He tries to find a way to explain that a certain being in the sky is attempting to act on their behalf. Then, as he formulates an explanation, and gains a bit of confidence, he fixes his eyes back on the General and states, “But I do know there are others, other covert people, who have been diligently working to sabotage those very missiles. General, it seems that he…uh, they…are successful. And twice now the success has been proven.”
General Parsin questions the statement, “Others have been attempting to sabotage these missiles?”
Gul is overwhelmed and answers faintly, “Yes, sir.” Noticing that his words hardly made it past his throat, he clears it and tries to speak more confidently, “Malik Khel and I learned about them, after we lost communication with our U.S. counterparts. The name of this group is unknown. And for Malik and me, it was better for our safety, and the safety of the covert group, that we did not know.”
“How confident are you that this work of sabotage has been executed completely.”
Gul did not remove his eyes from the General’s. Knowing that he needs to prevent the U.S. from launching its own retaliatory strikes, Gul answers, “High confidence, sir. And since the first two have not detonated, my confidence is not shaken.” Gul gulps noticeably, with his exposed throat, as he looks up at the General. He cannot believe that he is able to say what he has just said.
RB 01 Through Flesh & Bone Page 52