Hold On! - Tomorrow (A Sci-Fi Thriller)

by Peter Darley

  Table of Contents

  Previously, on Hold On!

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Forty-Five

  Forty-Six

  Forty-Seven

  Forty-Eight

  Forty-Nine

  Fifty

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Other Titles in the Series:

  Hold On! – Season 1

  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VXTI2FM

  Go! – Hold On! Season 2

  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00YD8497U

  Run! – Hold On! Season 3

  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B011YZ9KLO

  The Hold On! Trilogy Box Set

  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01KW8R660

  Hold On!

  ________________________________________

  Tomorrow

  PETER DARLEY

  HOLD ON! – TOMORROW

  Copyright©2016

  PETER DARLEY

  www.peterdarley.com

  Cover Design by Harris Channing.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, incidents, and works are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, works, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or by any other duplicative means) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. Exception applies to reasonably brief quotations in printed or electronic reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions. The participation in or encouraging of electronic piracy of copyrighted materials is strictly prohibited.

  Lyrics from Highway of Love by Shining Line, Close Your Eyes by Charming Grace, and All or Nothing by Vega, are used with permission.

  Author contact:

  http://www.peterdarley.com/contact.html

  https://www.facebook.com/PDAuthor

  For Pierpaolo

  My rock star buddy, who literally dropped out of the sky, resulting in this book becoming the first ever collaboration between storyteller –

  and the Gods of Rock.

  The Department of Defense is two years away from unveiling an Iron Man-like suit. Known as the Tactical Light Operator Suit (TALOS) it can repel bullets, help lift heavy objects, and provide life-saving oxygen. The suit also comes with 3D audio, heating and cooling systems, and embedded computers.

  Tech Insider, October 8th, 2015

  Previously, on Hold On!

  The Interceptor remained in a mutual throat lock with The Scorpion as they sank through the void.

  And then suddenly, The Scorpion vanished. The Interceptor glanced, bewildered, at his empty hands.

  He stopped sinking and stood, confused. He looked around the darkness, but there was nothing.

  And then, a brilliance filled the void. He turned to it, but despite its brightness, it was easy to gaze upon. It was irresistible. It rapidly took shape and became a tunnel of light. He stepped toward it, drawn to its inimitable magnificence.

  Images—scenes from his life—flashed before him at the end of the tunnel. Both lives. It seemed so strange to him. He saw his own life, his mother Annabelle, his father, Major Howard Drake, and his malevolent grandfather. He saw Belinda and Tyler and scenes of their countless escapades.

  Running simultaneously, he saw The Scorpion’s life. He watched, fascinated, as the horror of his natural father stabbing his mother to death before hanging himself, played out before him. He witnessed the cruelty he’d endured at the hands of Joe Cassidy, his arrests, court appearances, and the battles he’d fought with the Eighty-Second Airborne Division.

  The visions of his duel lives continued right up to scene at the mountaintop and him throwing himself off. It all seemed so long ago now.

  But the visions didn’t stop there . . .

  His parallel life scenes merged into one. He saw a young boy with blond hair and kind eyes. Instinctively, he knew it was his son.

  He watched as the boy grew into a young man. He seemed to be wearing the armor from the hologram at Mach Industries, and he was helping people. There was a beautiful young blonde woman and an earthquake. The young man was trying to get her to safety while wearing the armor. Then he was flying into what looked like a volcano trying to retrieve something. The technology The Interceptor was seeing seemed so unbelievable it filled him with awe.

  Seeing his son’s life before him made no sense, and yet it felt so right. He knew it. “I love you, Son,” he whispered. “I am so proud of you. Be what I never had the chance to be.”

  The light suddenly disappeared and he found himself inside some kind of a technological complex. Intrigued, he walked toward a window with the stars of the night sky beyond. He braced his palms against the glass and gazed into the cosmos. Looking to his right, he realized it wasn’t the night sky he was looking at. The Planet Earth was below him.

  Then he understood. He wasn’t really there. He was seeing through his son’s eyes. This was a scene from his life. He couldn’t imagine the circumstances under which his son could find himself in such an extraordinary place. Nevertheless, he gazed longingly at the vision of the earth.

  He felt a dark veil falling upon him, but it didn’t seem to matter. He smiled his last, knowing that somehow, some way—he would find his way home.

  ***

  May 14th, 2025

  Heather Addison nervously walked across the school playground with a backpack containing her books and lunch box. Her unkempt, golden blonde hair and pre-used clothing suggested poverty. At eight years old, a wallflower, and not particularly popular, she was terribly shy. Coming from a poor family, she suffered at the hands of bullies with their cruel jibes.

  She sat down on a bench and watched as the children played with one another, running and frolicking across the yard. It was the end of the day, and they were all waiting for their parents to collect them. She felt so distant, as though it was a world in which she had no place.

  She felt her backpack being snatched from her. “Hey!” She looked up and saw three older boys standing over her. The biggest held her backpack, smiling cruelly. “Give it back,” she said.

  The boy laughed. “How much will you pay me? Oh, I forgot. Poor little Heather hasn’t got any money.�
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  Heather stood, but the boy held her backpack out of her reach. He threw it to one of the other boys. Heather reached for it again, but the boy threw it to the other.

  Suddenly, a shadow fell upon them. “Give it back to her.”

  Heather looked past them to see a familiar eight-year-old boy standing behind them. His blond hair and dazzling green eyes gave him an almost-angelic appearance.

  “Beat it, Drake, this don’t concern you,” the bigger boy said.

  The blond boy stepped toward them slowly with an avenging look in his eyes. “I said . . . give it back to her.”

  Belinda came down the school steps, her mind filled with thoughts. As she came to the bottom, she looked to her left and saw a crowd of children huddled around a spot close to the playground bench. Curiously, she walked forward.

  She made her way through the crowd of children and saw three boys on the ground, unconscious. She caught the eye of a little girl. “What happened?”

  “They were picking on Heather, Ms. Reese, but B.J. stopped them.”

  Oh, my God, no. “W-where is he?”

  The little girl pointed to the entrance gate with an excited look on her face. “B.J.’s the coolest.”

  Belinda looked across in the direction the little girl had indicated. Her son was walking hand-in-hand with Heather toward the main gate.

  She was instantly reminded of the fateful night eleven years earlier, when his father had rescued her from the roof of a burning skyscraper. Tears rolled down her cheeks as her fear that he may have some of The Scorpion in him instantly vanished. Her son wasn’t The Scorpion at all. He was a rescuer.

  Her enduring question returned. Who would his father have been had he not been abused as a child, and hadn’t been brainwashed with a series of false memories? She’d never known who was at his natural core. Nobody had. Perhaps Brandon, Jr. was the answer.

  She wanted B.J. to have his own identity, but she couldn’t forget Brandon’s words to her, moments before he threw himself off the mountaintop: I’m not gonna die. It was the reason she’d named her son after him.

  But who was her son? Who would he become? So far, he seemed to have much in common with The Interceptor, but he was only eight. His persona would take time to develop.

  She knew the answer wouldn’t be revealed today. But maybe, just maybe . . . tomorrow.

  Prologue

  Seventeen years later

  March 21st, 2042

  “Reports are coming in from New York of a major earthquake. This is the fifth natural disaster to strike across the world in four weeks, leaving geologists baffled. We’ll now go to Mark Farnham, who’s covering the event from above the Manhattan skyline.”

  Brandon Drake, Jr. stood sharply from his desk and approached the three dimensional images displayed from his holoscreen. New York appeared to be crumbling and flooding, simultaneously. The Atlantic was becoming one with the streets.

  The camera swept across the ruins to an as-yet-unaffected region of the city, but he could see the progression of the damage sweeping toward it. One skyscraper in the clear zone was familiar to him—the zone that wouldn’t be clear for much longer.

  He snapped his head toward his office door. I can’t. I have to. The old man’s gonna kill me. My ass is gonna be toast.

  Hurrying out of the office, he attempted to appear calm and professional as he walked through the corridors. A few casual smiles to his colleagues seemed to be working.

  Finally, he reached a transparent elevator, his heart pounding. He selected the option for the sub-basement, and his descent began.

  The doors seemed to open again as quickly as they closed. Infused with trepidation, he stepped forward into a neon tunnel and broke into a run.

  He reached a titanium door and tapped in a code on a black, glass pad beside the door. For an instant, he felt compelled to look around in order to ensure he was alone, but immediately knew that was crazy. The tunnel had been deserted all the way along. I am so damn paranoid.

  The door opened. He stepped into a spectacle of holographic screens containing formulas, plans, and diagrams for the most advanced weapons technology. Eye-dazzling equipment set on stands or perched upon neon shelving filled the room. However, there was only one creation in which he was interested.

  A short, young Hispanic man turned around startled, his expression immediately lighting up in recognition. “B.J.” he said.

  “Tito, I really need your help.”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  B.J. pointed to a suit of armor in the far corner of the room. “The INT-Nine.”

  Tito glanced across at a black and silver, metallic, multi-layered shell, with a helmet containing five blue lens points. “What about it?”

  “I need it.”

  “What for?”

  B.J. knew he was putting Tito in an impossible situation. Tito may have been a nerd, but he was a good friend. The INT-Nine was, as yet, top secret. But in that moment, B.J. didn’t care. “Are the new modifications ready?”

  “They were installed ten days ago.” Tito’s jovial expression changed to one of concern. “Are you gonna tell me what this is all about?”

  “I need you to help me get it on.”

  “Why?”

  “Have you seen the news?”

  “No, I’ve been kinda busy. I don’t have much time for TV down here.”

  “New York is falling apart, and someone I really care about is in danger.”

  Tito’s skin took on a pallid appearance. “You’re not serious?”

  “Deadly.”

  “B.J., it’s complete, but it’s had minimal testing, and you haven’t got a clue how to use it.”

  “I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

  “Oh, really? And what happens to us when the old man finds out. Our asses are gonna be—”

  “Toast. I know. But lives are on the line.” He came closer to Tito. “I’m begging you, man. I swear I know how to do this. I’ll be back here before you know it, and if anything goes wrong, I’ll take full responsibility. You were in the restroom when I broke in and took it.”

  Tito’s expression relaxed slightly. “I wasn’t here.”

  “No.”

  There was a momentary pause before Tito said, “OK, you’re on.”

  B.J. smiled and walked over to the armor, removing his jacket and undoing his tie along the way.

  After discarding his pants and shoes, he took the breast and torso plate and touched a sensor. The armor magnetically sealed to his body, ending just below his groin. He looked up at Tito, distressed. “It’s too big.”

  “Of course, you jerk. It’s adjustable. I thought you said you knew how to use it.” Tito joined him, touched another sensor at the side of the armor, and it began to retract.

  “Hey, hey, that’s it. Perfect fit,” B.J. said, relieved.

  They repeated the procedure with the leg plates and boots—and then the helmet. B.J. watched through the lenses as Tito stood back, open-jawed.

  “Wow. That is so freakin’ awesome.”

  “How much juice does it have?” B.J. said.

  “Enough for six hundred miles at the moment. But it has the capacity for over six thousand. I just haven’t had the chance to charge it up that far.”

  “I only need it for a four-hundred-fifty mile round trip. I have to go. This is an emergency.”

  Tito placed his hand on the black and silver shoulder plate. “If you let it, it’ll almost work automatically. Don’t overcompensate.”

  B.J. tapped his armor-clad hand onto Tito’s. “I won’t forget this.” With that, he turned to the back of the lab and stepped into another transparent tube elevator. He touched his armored glove to the window. Tito reciprocated with a gentle wave, accompanied by a seriously worried look.

  The elevator rose rapidly. The door opened and B.J. stepped out into the daylight, trembling.

  One

  A Legend Reborn

  New York City, three hours earlier

&nb
sp; “Ladies and gentlemen, it is with great pleasure that I present this year’s Zenith Corporation award recipient for best sales employee in the company’s thirty-five year history. And by one of our youngest employees, at that. I would like you to give a warm round of applause for our newly-appointed chief executive, Heather Addison.”

  Heather stepped out of the office behind the gathering, smiling proudly. Overwhelmed with elation, she considered how hard she’d worked to get to this point.

  She held her head high and approached the CEO, Blaine Lucas. Her salary had just tripled, although she knew it would be wise to rein in her pride. Lucas had been a supportive employer, and she wanted to convey her appreciation. Show strength, but just be a little humble.

  As she reached him, she took a huge bouquet of flowers from him and smiled graciously. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Not at all,” he whispered. “The sky’s the limit for you now, and you deserve it.” He turned back to the crowd of almost one hundred employees who filled the tenth floor foyer. “I’m sure Heather would like to say a few words.”

  She took her position beside Lucas, and began. “This is a tremendous honor for me, but I didn’t get to this point alone. All of you have been by my side since I came here, four years ago. It’s been a privilege to be part of the Zenith Corporation.” Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Lucas’ secretary taking him to one side. Oh, boy. I hope she’s telling him I pulled it off.

  Knowing she had to keep her mind on her rhetoric, she resumed. “And I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the support you’ve shown me. I couldn’t have done it without you.” She waited for another round of applause to die down before saying, “What say we get this party started?”