3 Supernatural Thrillers

by Jason Brant

  Reaching around with his free arm, he grabbed onto his trapped hand and lifted me off the ground. The amount of strength required to do that to a man my size is mind boggling, yet he did it with relative ease. I knew what was coming and tried to brace for the impact. With his remaining strength, he power bombed me onto the floor, my shoulders and back taking most of the collision. The elevator bounced up and down from the contact.

  For what felt like the fiftieth time in the last two days, I had the wind knocked out of me. I had the abnormal feeling of something shifting inside. Whatever it was made the agony of breathing even worse. Despite my body breaking down I squeezed my legs even tighter, locking the hold in.

  He banged on my thighs, trying to get me to release the choke. The ferocity of his punches lessened with each passing second. Tension ebbed from his muscles as he slipped into oblivion. Though his body crumbled, I kept the hold locked in for several seconds more, making sure he was out. The smart thing to do would be killing him, but I didn't have it in me to murder an unconscious man.

  When I tried to release him, my injured knee didn't want to cooperate and I had to pull it straight with my hands. I thought about standing, realized that wasn't going to happen, and decided to just lie there and wallow in misery. The choking sounds coming from the Good Samaritan had abated a little as he seemed to be able to breathe. It looked like his trachea hadn't collapsed.

  The elevator dinged and the doors opened to the main lobby. Four or five people stood by the doors, staring in at the bloody bodies strewn on the floor.

  "Going up?" I asked.

  Chapter 16

  No one moved.

  "Someone call 911. I've got a couple of boo-boos."

  Everyone pulled out their cell phones at the same time, but only two of them made a call. Three others started snapping pictures of us. This would be all over the news soon. Someone would probably be making fun of me on the FAIL blog within twenty minutes.

  I grabbed onto the railing and struggled to pull myself to my feet. Beyond the onlookers I could see Nami and Sammy standing by the lobby doors, looking back at me.

  "Ash!" Sammy yelled. They both ran towards me, Nami trailing behind because of her short stride.

  Is this guy a cop?

  Those dudes are messed up!

  Why is he dressed like a male stripper?

  Look at the fun bags on her!

  Voices burst through my mental defenses and started flooding my mind. The punishment I just received had weakened me so much that I couldn't stop them from coming through. There were so many people in the hotel that the echoes overpowered me. The throbbing in my head increased until it felt like it might explode. My eyes lost focus as I swayed on my good leg.

  This is the worst selection of hotel porn I've ever seen.

  Nice view we have here, right into a brick wall.

  It's ok to drink rum and diet coke because it has no carbs, right?

  I bit down hard on my tongue, hoping the pain would give me something to concentrate on. It worked, a little. The debilitating effect abated a little as the voices dampened.

  Nami and Sammy stopped when they were close enough to see the damage Chuck had done to me. Sammy put a hand to her face, covering her gaping mouth.

  "Dude, you look like the Elephant Man." Nami looked down at Chuck. "You won? Maybe you aren't such a bitch after all."

  "Thanks, Norma." I reached a hand up to Sammy. "My knee is wrecked. Can you give me some help walking out of here?"

  "This is so gross," she said as she carefully stepped over Chuck's body. She put my left arm over her shoulders and took some of the weight off my battered leg. My hand brushed against her boob as I shifted my stance, but the horrible aches in my body didn't allow me to enjoy it.

  A swarm of thoughts threw me off balance, almost pulling both of us over. I pressed my free hand against my forehead, fighting to keep my mind clear.

  "What is it, Ash?" Sammy asked.

  "We need to get out of here. I'm losing control of my ability. I can't block out what people are thinking."

  As we moved from the elevator I turned my head to the biggest guy standing by the doors and told him to find some zip ties or rope.

  "He'll be waking up shortly and you'll want him to be restrained until the police show up."

  We didn't wait for a response as we shuffled through the lobby. No one tried to stop us, or offer assistance. The receptionist standing behind the counter looked back and forth from us to the elevator, too afraid to say anything. Her fear pulsed through me, making it even harder for me to walk despite Sammy's help. I tried to block it out, but couldn't muster the strength.

  The sounds of sirens drifted closer as we pushed our way through the double doors and into the parking lot. Sammy dragged me along as best she could. What little strength I had left was evaporating as I fought against the deluge of voices pressing against me.

  Nami waited at the edge of the parking lot. "Would you guys hurry up?"

  "Nirvana, see if you can get us a car or a cab or something. We can't be here when the cops arrive. If they stop us, the world is going to go to hell really fast."

  "Call me by my real name, damn it! What do you mean the world is going to shit if we get arrested?" she asked as she pulled her backpack off and held it in front of her.

  I needed to explain everything I'd seen in Chuck's memories, but now wasn't the time.

  "Get us out of here and I'll explain on the way."

  "Fine, boss around the small one."

  She turned and walked to a silver Ford Explorer that was parked in the fire lane, the engine still running. The top of her head didn't even come close to reaching the bottom of the window. A balding man with rosy cheeks sat in the car, waiting for someone to come out of the hotel. He smiled when he saw her approaching.

  Nami put on her best pouty expression, thrusting her lower lip out. She held her bag up to her chin, her left hand inside it. With her getup and stature she looked all over ten years old.

  "I can't find my mommy or daddy!" she cried.

  "It's okay, little girl, we'll find them. Where did you lose them? What about their phone, do you know that?" He looked down at the passenger seat, looking for his phone.

  As he turned away, Nami lowered her hands and pulled out the Desert Eagle she had taken from Chuck. It looked like a howitzer in her tiny grip as she pointed it in the window.

  "Out of the car, poop dick," she said. Her voice, still tiny and high pitched, had lost its desperate tone.

  "What did you say—" he said as he turned back to her. The color drained out of his cheeks when he saw the gun. "I don't understand. What's going on?"

  "I'm a government agent and I'm confiscating your shit. Get out."

  His eyes darted back and forth from the gun to Nami, the confusion evident on his face.

  "I don't think that's a real gun," he said.

  Pulling the slide back was her answer. It looked like it took all of her strength to do it.

  His eyes followed the bullet that ejected from the chamber and watched it fall to the ground. The confusion on his face turned to panic while he bumbled at the door handle. Scrambling out of the car, he walked backward with his hands up, never taking his gaze off the gun. When he got a dozen feet or so away, he turned and ran for the lobby.

  Nami looked back at us with a huge grin on her face. "Too easy."

  "You're a little badass!" Sammy said with genuine surprise on her face.

  "Fucking A."

  After helping me into the passenger seat, Sammy ran around to the driver's side. Nami climbed into the back.

  "Where are we going?" Sammy asked.

  "Go right on Fifty West. Fast," I said. "Drive like my life depends on it, because it probably does."

  "Sweet, there's an iPhone back here. I'm going to see what's on the wire."

  The tires squealed as we slid onto the road, already doing thirty-five miles per hour. In the side mirror I could see the first ambulance turning into t
he hotel parking lot.

  Pulling down the sun visor, I looked at myself in the vanity mirror. I was messed up. Blood ran out of just about every orifice on my body and had started to dry. My left eye was swelling up and my nose had a new bend in it. A long, shallow cut ran across my cheek where it hit the railing. I ran my tongue over my bloody teeth, trying to see if any of them were loose. Everything seemed sturdy enough.

  "I'm guessing they figured out I escaped the hospital," I said to Nami as I looked back at her.

  "Oh yeah, they're officially calling the search for you a manhunt now. You have a bunch of new charges too: assault, impersonating an officer, et cetera. They have a picture of you up, but your face doesn't look anything like that right now. You look like you went for a swim in a meat grinder."

  Random emotions and ideas were flitting through my mind as cars zipped past in the other lanes. Their prominence kept increasing, like turning up the volume on a television.

  "Don't slow down, just run all the lights." I put my palms on my temples, squeezing my head. "We're running out of time."

  "Time for what? Was he going to kill us back there?" Nami asked.

  "Yeah, he was going to shoot both of you and pin your murders on me."

  "What? Why? We were helping them!"

  "All of Smith's people were killed by Murdock. They brought you in because you were the youngest, most expendable tech analyst they could find. They planned on killing you once their mission was accomplished. After what's about to happen they can't have any loose ends."

  Traffic bogged down as we came to the intersection at Florida Avenue and Sammy had to stop. The fog that descended in my mind made it nearly impossible to see or hear anything around me. The pressure escalated to an unbearable level as I bent over in my seat, wrapping my arms around my head.

  "Go! Drive on the sidewalk if you have to!"

  If they said anything to me, I couldn't hear them. I just kept pleading for her to drive over and over again.

  Slowly the vise-like pressure eased. When I sat up my vision had cleared enough to see that we were weaving through traffic at an insane pace. We clipped the back end of a yellow Camaro as Sammy swerved into the right lane.

  "Shit, sorry!"

  She sat ramrod straight, her chest almost touching the steering wheel. She looked so tense that if she farted she might fly through the windshield.

  Nami said something from the back seat but I couldn't hear her through all the other voices floating by.

  "I can't hear you!"

  "I said what's about to happen?" she yelled.

  "Murdock is going to kill the president on national TV."

  Chapter 17

  The war drums were beating again.

  As the sun set behind the Washington Monument it cast a long shadow over the raucous crowd waiting for President Thomas. The entire courtyard surrounding the obelisk was jammed full of furious citizens. Throngs of people pushed back across Constitution Avenue, spilling hundreds of yards beyond the monument.

  The fervor of the attendees approached riot levels as they anticipated the answers the POTUS would give. What was initially going to be a rah-rah speech about the current economic climate of the country had morphed into a war rally. The information that had been leaked to the press had pointed to Iranian trained terrorists causing the deaths of Senator McArthur, the DC8, and the many agents killed in the cemetery.

  Murdock had anticipated that no one would pay attention to the small details. Once the people demanded blood, they got it. It would only take a simple, nonsensical explanation to account for how a terrorist could get a Senator to commit suicide. It would be exactly the same after President Thomas was killed by his own Secret Service.

  Standing in the thick of the crowd, Murdock didn't need to read anyone's thoughts to see their anger and eagerness for revenge. All of their fury combined didn't match the vengeful fire that burned inside him. With one final blow he would bring down the system that had left him to rot, and demolish his tormentors at the same time. All that would remain was Smith. Murdock always believed in saving the best for last.

  A brown hooded sweatshirt, loose jeans, and Pirates baseball cap made him appear like everyone else in the crowd. Slipping through the police checkpoints had been as simple as expected. He didn't carry a firearm, never had, and could have mentally forced one of the guards to ignore it even if he did. The ease with which he could destroy the leaders of the world's most powerful nation amused him so much that he couldn't suppress the slight smile that cracked his lips.

  President Thomas would take the stage in a matter of moments. Murdock would wait until after he addressed his plans to retaliate; then the games would begin.

  Chapter 18

  I took a long, deep breath and then slapped my throbbing knee. The pain was fierce and immediate, but it temporarily blotted everything else out.

  Sammy careened around Mt. Vernon Square so fast that for a moment I thought we were going to flip the car. At the last possible moment she straightened the wheel and we rocketed forward onto New York Avenue. Though traffic slowed us down we would be at the National Mall in a few moments.

  "I'm trying so hard not to poop myself right now!" Sammy said. Her eyes looked like they might bug out of her head.

  "What do you mean he's going to kill the president? At the big speech tonight? That's madness!" Nami said from the back.

  "Before I got my ass kicked back there I took a peek into Chuck's mind. Murdock isn't a foreign assassin; he worked for Smith."

  "What?" Smith and Sammy said in at the same time.

  "He was captured a few months ago while on a mission in Iran. Smith, Senator McArthur, and President Thomas disavowed him and left him to die. They actually sent in another assassin to kill him, so he couldn't give the Iranians any information. That's why he killed everyone involved in the program, because they betrayed him."

  Sammy blew through the next red light and barreled onto the sidewalk, knocking over a large post office box in the process. Letters flew through the air like confetti, covering the windshield before blowing away. A couple walking toward us dove in opposite directions, trying to get out of the way.

  "Sorry!" she said through her window. The man sprawled on the sidewalk flipped us off as we flew by them.

  "Are you trying to hit everything you can see?" Nami asked. She bounced around like a ragdoll in the back as we smashed through a flower stand.

  "You probably should have stolen a car with a child safety seat," I said.

  She started to retort but was cut short when we screeched along the side of a minivan as Sammy swerved back onto the road. I had to give her credit; she did everything she could to make sure our car didn't stop.

  "So if Smith used you to find Murdock, why let him go in the cemetery?" Nami asked.

  "He didn't. Not completely, anyway. They've been tracking him since then. The information you gave about his escape has been used in official reports to President Thomas."

  Police cars formed a road block ahead of us, rerouting traffic for the president's speech.

  "Slow down," I said. "Take a left on Fourteenth Street and follow the speed limit. Cops and secret service are going to be everywhere from here on out."

  We didn't slow down enough as we swung onto the street, away from the barricade, because I could see the officers pointing and shouting at us as we went by. Less than ten seconds later a patrol car raced after us, lights swirling.

  "What do we do?" Sammy asked. She was nearing hysteria.

  "Keep going, we're almost there."

  "Why are they giving false information to the president? This isn't making any goddamn sense," Nami said.

  "President Thomas and Senator McArthur planned to shut down Smith's agency after Murdock's capture. They felt it was too much of a security risk having agents capable of mind transference landing in the hands of foreign nations. You know all of those creepy nursery rhymes Murdock keeps saying? Smith's team used those as a way of communicating t
o their operatives in the field."

  "So he used those to let Smith know who killed his people. That and it's creepy as hell."

  "Exactly. Smith also knew that he would try and kill all three of them: Thomas, McArthur, and Smith himself. That's when Smith decided to let him assassinate the senator and the president. Smith and his goons have been following Murdock since the cemetery, waiting for him to take out President Thomas. Once he does they're going to make their move on him. Then Smith and his program will be safe."

  "That's madness!"

  "What you just said is so confusing!" Sammy said.

  Nami looked at me through the mirror on my visor. "So the president is using Murdock's crimes as fuel to start a war?"

  "It seems like it."

  "And Smith is allowing Murdock to kill the president, to keep his program active?"

  "Yes."

  "Murdock was captured and probably tortured by the Iranians. So he wants revenge on the men who abandoned him. What are the odds that he's trying to maneuver the president into attacking Iran?"

  "Pretty damn high."

  "So all three of these buttholes are using each other without realizing they're being manipulated at the same time?"

  "Isn't America great?"

  Nami sat back in her seat, contemplating all of the information I just dumped on her.

  "If they've been following Murdock since the cemetery, how did they guess he would even be there? And if they thought they could find him at the funeral, why kidnap your dumb ass?"

  "They thought they could find him there, but they didn't dare get close to him. He would have sensed their presence long before they could figure out which person he was. That's why they threw me in there, like a lamb to the slaughter. The funeral service was for a friend of Murdock's. She worked with him as one of the agents for Smith.”

  "Didn't Murdock kill all of the other agents? He killed his own friend?"