Brain Storm (A Taylor Morrison Novel Book 1)

by Cat Gilbert

  “They didn’t kill Brown because they didn’t need to. He’s out of their way,” Bryan interrupted. “Brown retired, remember?”

  “How do we know that?” Candice asked, swinging her legs off the bed. “If I was an award winning, highly respected expert in my field, with years ahead of me for research, and the project I’d been working on for years just started showing signs of promise, the last thing I’d do is walk away.”

  “I agree, but if that’s the case, then he’s either involved in this, they took him, or he’s dead,” Bryan concluded, counting off the possibilities on his fingers. “Sam here, seems pretty certain he isn’t dead.”

  “So what? You think Brown is working for them?” Candice asked me.

  “I think if he were behind this or involved in it, he would have stayed put.” I finished going through the search results as I answered her question. “It would be the easiest way to keep tabs on what’s happening and raise the least amount of suspicion, unless of course, something unexpected happened and they moved him.”

  “Something like Marcus disappearing?”

  “Good a guess as any. That certainly would have sent up a red flag for me. The only thing we know for sure, is he’s missing and we can’t find him.”

  “And why is that?” Bryan threw up his hands in surrender. “This guy has completely dropped off the radar. Not only is he no longer with the agency, but it’s almost like he never existed. According to Mac, he’s supposed to have won all these awards and be this big wig, but there’s nothing to support it. Where’s the paper trail? “ He stopped short, his eyes looking into the distance instead of focusing on me. I could practically see the wheels turning in his brain as he put it together.

  “Marcus,” he whispered so softly I could barely make it out what he said and I was expecting it. “They erased him. Just like Marcus. What makes you think they didn’t kill him?”

  “Because they didn’t kill Marcus and more importantly, they didn’t kill Mac, even though it was the logical thing to do.” I got up, stretching my legs and giving my eyes a rest from the glare of the computer screen. “The question we need to ask ourselves, isn’t why didn’t they kill him. It’s what was so important, that they needed to keep him alive?”

  “Isn’t that the same thing?” Bryan asked.

  “No,” Candice answered for me. “It’s not. Well, it is, but it’s not. It’s all in how you look at it. You can ask the same question over and over and you’ll always get the same answer. Asked a different way, the brain responds to the new question and you’ll trigger a different response. We use it all the time during trials and depositions. You use it too, Bryan. It’s called interrogation. You just don’t recognize it without a bright light shining in your face.”

  I was impressed in spite of myself. She’d calmly explained and still managed to throw a jab in there at Bryan. I looked over at Mac who’d been exceptionally quiet during the past few minutes. Where Bryan and Candice needed to talk things through a logical progression, Mac was more intuitive, relying primarily on his senses to find his way through a problem. Probably because he knew logic, as we knew it, had little do with it anymore. We’d entered a world where the impossible was now possible and the illogical made sense. The ramifications of what I alone could do was overwhelming. What if there were dozens like me? What if there were hundreds? How do you fight a war where there are no rules and no limits, except for those you set for yourself? I had a horrible feeling I was going to find out and it gave me the shivers.

  “It’s you,” Mac said quietly, breaking into my thoughts. “You’re the reason we’re alive. They’re after you, but you’re useless to them if you can’t control your power. They need Brown to train you and they kept me around in case things didn’t work out and they needed me back in place.”

  “So, we have to assume they have him.” Bryan rubbed his face with his hands, despair evident in his voice as realization sank in. “Question is whether he’s a willing participant or not. Either way, we’ll never find him. I hope you have a plan B, Samantha, or we’re in big trouble.”

  “We don’t need a plan B,” I said. “Our objective is still the same. I need to learn to control this and we need some answers. We have to find Caleb Brown.”

  “Just how do you propose we do that?” Candice asked. “They have him and we have no idea where he is.”

  “You’re right. We don’t know where he is, but someone at the Agency does. It’s too good a source of information for them to abandon it. There’s someone there. We find him, we find Brown.” I reached over and pulled Mac’s list of names over to the edge of desk.

  “I did searches on the names Mac gave me. They all came back with associated sites on recent and past activity with the exception of one.” I pointed to the name that Mac had underlined on the sheet of paper. “Matthew Hughes. He exists, but barely, and nothing in recent history. Just like Marcus Adams and Caleb Brown. I”m willing to bet he’s there at the Agency, keeping an eye on things. Who is this guy?” I looked over at Mac, waiting. This was the guy he’d picked out too. Now I wanted to know why.

  “Matthew Hughes is the Head of Security. Doesn’t get much better for them, or much worse for us.”

  No kidding. That was about the last thing I wanted to hear. If the Head of Security for the Agency was part of the problem, we couldn’t just walk in the front door looking for answers. His position gave him way too much power and too much freedom to use it however he wanted. It didn’t change our objective. Just made it way more complicated.

  “We need to check him out. Find out what he knows and if he’s involved.”

  “Well,” said Mac, dusting off his jeans as he rose, “there’s only way to do that. When do you want to leave?“

  “Leave? Wait a minute. We’re going to the Agency?” Candice asked. “Is that safe?”

  “No, it’s not,” Bryan answered, keeping his focus on me. “In fact, it puts everyone here in a great deal of of danger.”

  He was right. It would. This was what they signed up for, but now the rubber was meeting the road for the first time. Mac and I were committed, but it wasn’t too late for them to duck and run. I waited, not saying anything to break the silence. It was their move and I wasn’t going to try to convince them either way.

  “Okay.” Candice popped up off the bed with a determined look on her face, making the decision for them. “Then I want a gun.”

  MAC AND BRYAN went through their little arsenal and finally agreed on a semi-automatic for Candice to go along with the taser she had already appropriated. We spent the afternoon at the shooting range and after a couple hours of practice, Candice could definitely be labeled armed and dangerous.

  ‘Candice’ apparently was into shopping as much as Trinity was. The shooting range was under the gun store, store being the operative word. Before we could make our way through the aisles and out to the car, she had managed to locate a leather shoulder bag with a special concealed compartment for the gun. Once she realized she could carry her wallet, makeup and gun, all in one handy dandy stylish purse, it was a done deal. When she bought two of them, exactly the same, just in different colors, I thought Bryan’s eyes would pop out of his head, but he held his tongue and ushered her out the door into the car like the wise man he was.

  We stopped by the store to lay in supplies for the trip, ate dinner and went our separate ways. It was the first down time I’d had in a while. We had a destination and a plan. We were together. For the time being, we were safe, and I fully planned to relax and enjoy it, not knowing when it might happen again. Resisting the siren call of the computer, I crawled into bed, still slightly damp, but toasty warm from what had to be the longest shower in history and fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  WE WERE HEADING to Colorado, which had completely taken me by surprise. For whatever reason, I had thought the Agency, being part of the government would be in D.C. We were looking at over 12 hours on the road, h
ugging I-35 north into Kansas and then cutting onto I-70 to head west into Denver, and that wasn’t counting stops for food, gas and leg stretching. Mac and I might have been able to switch off and make it in a long day, but Bryan was the only driver right now for the RV and he just couldn’t do 817 miles in a day. As anxious as I was to get to the Agency, I preferred we arrive there in once piece, so we stopped for the night in Salina, Kansas.

  I can honestly say, I’ve never seen so many wheat fields. Or windmills. Kansas is nothing if not flat and windy. It was a relief when, in the late afternoon of the second day of driving, the Rocky Mountains came into sight. At first I thought they were low lying clouds on the horizon, but as we closed the distance to Denver, the clouds rose higher and gained definition. The green of the front range separated from the snow capped peaks behind, as the sun began to set in the west. It was an amazing sight for me, not having seen them before. At least not like this, having crossed hundreds of miles of prairie land to have this mammoth range rising abruptly before me. My mind couldn’t help but think back to the covered wagons and the people who had come before me. They saw it, I was sure, just as I had. As clouds in the distance. How did they feel, when they realized the size and grandeur of what was before them, knowing what they were seeking was on the other side?

  Probably a lot like what I was feeling now. What I was seeking lay in the mountains that now loomed just beyond the city of Denver. The foothills appeared dark and ominous, hidden in the shadow of the high peaks, which sparkled silver, as the sun sank behind them. The sky above was a rainbow of colors, the few clouds there, reflecting the dying rays of light as the blue sky above melted into deep hues of purple to the east.

  As the last bit of light faded from the sky, darkness fell and with it came an overwhelming sense of fear and pain. Mac, sensing the change, jerked his attention from the road to me in concern. Nearly suffocating in panic, I waved to him to get off the road.

  The car was still rolling when I threw open the door and flung myself out, raking in deep breaths of air, trying to stand on what were decidedly shaking legs. I watched in silence as Bryan roared by, tapping the brakes but unable to stop.

  “He’ll get off at the next exit and wait for us,” Mac called out as he rounded the back end of the car. “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?”

  I gave up the fight to stand and leaned against the car, giving my knees extra support as my stomach began to roll. Doubling over, I felt sweat break out on my scalp and begin to trickle its way down.

  “Sam! What’s happening?” Mac demanded, as he grabbed my arms, trying to steady me and I needed it. Lights began exploding on the edge of my vision, the center filling with black clouds and I knew I was going down.

  It stopped almost as fast as it started. One minute I was on the verge of passing out and the next it was over. Not just the pain, but the fear and the panic. I was still shaky and had the feeling I would be for some time, but the rest was mercifully gone. Exhausted, I slid down the side of the car to sit on the hard pavement of the shoulder. Mac slid down next to me, and I noticed he was pretty shaky himself.

  “Did you feel that?” I finally managed to ask.

  “Yes. No. I mean, I felt something, but not what you were feeling.” He was as out of breath as I was, his words coming out in gasps. I sat for a minute longer, waiting for my stomach to settle and my heart beat to stop pounding in my ears. When I started feeling the pebbles under my rear end, I figured I’d recovered enough to stand up. It was slow going, as getting upright seemed to impart a bit of vertigo, making my stomach do flip flops again, but eventually, things calmed down and came back to center.

  Taking one more deep breath, I stood up straight and looked over at mountains, which now in the twilight, stood out as dark shadows against the darkening sky. We had swung north by the Denver airport, cutting off the trip through downtown and were on the outskirts of the main city on our way to Loveland.

  “How do you know?” I asked, watching as the cars sped by us on I-85. “How do you know it wasn’t what I was feeling?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment and I turned to find him standing with his eyes closed, lips pressed together in a grim line.

  “You were terrified. I could see it in your eyes,” he finally said, opening his eyes to meet mine, “but all I felt from you was waves of confusion, and panic. And then anger.”

  “Well, you got the terrified part right, but of what?” I took a deep breath, unable to understand what had happened. “I don’t know about the anger. I don’t remember getting angry, but I could be wrong. It all hit so fast.”

  My legs were feeling steadier by the minute and my heart rate had slowed back to a normal rate, or what felt like one compared to what it had been.

  “Trust me, Sam. It was anger. I’ve been around you enough to know, and you were about as angry as I’ve ever seen you. Then you just popped like a balloon and it was gone.” He was walking around in the narrow space on the shoulder, shaking his legs out as he went.

  “Yeah, it’s gone. For now, at least,” I agreed, opening my door, wondering what on earth was going on and worse yet, if it had something to do with what was waiting for us. I hated this. Hated not knowing, hated loosing control. Hated the whole situation. Roll with it. Accept it. This is reality now. I repeated the words in my head like a mantra, knowing if I didn’t come to terms with it, I’d lose my mind. Or possibly get somebody killed. What had I told them? I was going to embrace the weirdness. Well, it didn’t get much weirder than what had just happened. Embracing it was proving to be the hard part.

  WE CAUGHT UP with Bryan and the others at the next exit, just as Mac had predicted. Bryan gave us a look but kept his questions to himself. After a brief confab we decided to grab some dinner and spend the night in Longmont. After what had just happened, I needed a little time to pull myself together before we scouted out the Agency and saw the lay of the land. It was after midnight, when the knock sounded on my door. I was still awake, too restless to relax. I flung open the door to find Mac standing there, his arms full of pillows, dragging sheets and blankets behind him.

  “Mind if I sleep on the floor?” he asked.

  I was about to make some flippant remark, when I turned and looked at the big bed behind me, still made up, and the vacant floor space at the end of it. Flashes of earlier in the evening went through my head. How bad would that have been if Mac hadn’t been there to help me?

  I looked back at him, standing in the hallway, and opened the door further, stepping back to allow him access. He walked past me, threw his stuff down, tucked his gun away under the bed and wordlessly started building his nest on the floor.

  Softly closing the door, I padded back into the room and watched him arrange the blankets. How had it come to this? The day had started out so well and now I had a babysitter and was actually thankful for it. Disgusted, I crawled into bed, still dressed and pulled the covers over my head. With Mac settled on the floor by my feet, I could finally face what had happened, what I had been avoiding all evening. Mac had only been partially right earlier when he said I had been terrified. He’d seen terror in my face all right, but it wasn’t mine. I had nothing to be terrified of, but someone else did and I had felt it. Felt their terror and fear pour through me in a suffocating wave of emotion. I had no idea what had happened, but I knew somewhere out there in the darkness something horrible had happened. Mac said he hadn’t felt it, he’d only picked up on my emotions. I had picked up on someone else’s. The very thought had me shivering beneath the blankets. I didn’t want this. Not this. Feeling what someone else is feeling? I had thought it was bad before, but I had no idea. How had Mac kept from loosing his mind when mine kept forcing it’s way in? Even now, I knew he was there, laying on the floor, feeling the despair that was consuming me. Someone was in trouble, I knew it, and could do nothing to help them. I couldn’t even help myself. Tears stung my eyes at the realization. What if this was just the beginning? What more was to come? Dear God, I sil
ently begged, Help me. Help us all.

  WHEN I WOKE in the morning, Mac was gone, as was all evidence of his spending the night on the floor. I felt like I’d been in an all night wrestling match and in many ways I had been. I didn’t have any more answers this morning than I’d had the night before, but I’d managed to come to terms with things. What choice did I have really. It had taken hours to come to that conclusion and Mac had been there to help, absorbing emotion when I had been close to being overwhelmed. I could actually feel it now, when it happened, like an easing somehow, a lightening of a burden. Is that what I had done last night? Lightened the pain for someone else? The thought that I had, helped me more than than anything else. The idea that there was a purpose, that I could use what I had for good, to help others, made it easier to accept.

  I drug my legs over the edge of the bed. I had prayed for help last night and now I threw a special thanks up to heaven. I might not have the answer, but maybe I had found a way to live with what had happened.

  By the time I had showered and dressed, I was mentally ready to get to work. Now, more than ever, I needed to find Caleb Brown. Needed to learn how to control and use what I was.

  I grabbed my bag and threw open the door only to find Mac on the other side, grinning like an idiot, relief written on his face. Last night must have been worse than I’d thought.

  “Let’s go!” he said, as he snatched the bag from my hand and headed down the hall to the elevator. “We have work to do.”

  Yes, I thought, as I fell in behind him. We most certainly do.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  “WELL, DID YOU see him?”

  Candice was waiting at the door for us and I could hear the anxiety in her voice. We’d left her and Mama D at a motel/campground outside of Estes Park, while Mac, Bryan and I went to scope out the Agency and attempt to verify if Matthew Hughes was still on site.