Hammerhead

by Jason Andrew Bond

  A cold sensation began to flow up her arm. It felt wonderful, as if someone had poured deep-blue water from a glacial lake into her bloodstream. The coolness drifted into her chest and she felt her heart pulsing it into the rest of her body. Then the wonderful world clarified into a horrific pain in her face and shin. Her eyes focused along with her mind. She cried out at the sudden rush of pain, and her hands came to her face as she felt the stitches pull at the skin. Tears warped her vision and then spilled, in heated trails, down her cheeks.

  She looked back at the three men and then at the pulsing, heavy ache in her leg. There, a contusion already showed on the flat of her shin. She looked over Holt’s shoulder, toward the door. It was so far away. She yelped out a scream, but the intensity of the pain caused her to swallow back the sound. She coughed, which brought even more pain.

  She had to get away, had to get to her guards. She rolled away from them to the left side of the bed and fell to the floor. She scrambled to her feet and ran, as best as she could, for the garden door. A tremendous blow smacked her skull and the carpet flipped up and hit her. Holt’s baton landed next to her. Her head spun and nausea soured her guts. She came up onto her hands and knees. The thought of vomiting into her stitched mouth made her stomach turn even more, and it came up. She tried to open her mouth, but pain stopped her. The vomit filled her mouth and sprayed between her partially separated teeth. It filled her nose and shot out both nostrils, spraying the carpet in front of her. She felt warmth speckling her hands and forearms.

  She gagged and coughed. The rest of the vomit drooled through her teeth as the stomach acid brought blazing pain to her lower lip. She spit the remaining chunks out as best she could.

  “Look at her,” Holt said. “She’s a train wreck.”

  She looked over her shoulder. The three men had walked around the bed and now stood behind her.

  Holt’s son said, “I think we should give her what she gave Stacy.” In his eyes, she saw devotion to the idea.

  “No, let’s finish this the right way,” Holt said. “There are more important matters at hand than revenge for Stacy’s death.”

  “What?” The man wearing glasses said, as he zipped up his medicine kit. “Your friend you mean?”

  “Yes, Maxine here ordered her beaten to death and–” Holt began, but the man with glasses interrupted.

  “Oh, she’s not dead, at least not the last time I saw her.”

  “What?” Holt grabbed the man’s arm. Maxine didn’t hesitate. She began crawling toward the garden door.

  Her focus on the open door distracted her from the pain in her face. Behind her, she heard the man wearing glasses say, “I’m sorry, this whole time... with everything else going on, I didn’t think to tell you.”

  Weakness trembled in her arms as she pulled herself along the carpeting. She saw the exterior garden entrance across the grass. If she could get to the other side of the garden, get through that door, she would surely find some of her soldiers.

  The man said, “I was in the hallway when you were dragged out. I blended in with the other soldiers. They called for a body bag and a gurney. When it arrived, I walked in right behind it and then helped them push the gurney to the infirmary. The other soldiers just left. They thought she was dead.”

  Maxine had crossed over half the distance to the garden door.

  Just a few more feet, and then I’ll get up and run.

  “They thought she wasn’t breathing, but she was, shallowly. To survive a beating like that, well… there’s no debating how strong she is. I started emergency care on her–pulse, blood pressure–and when the duty nurse came in, he began assisting me without question. A doctor arrived and she and the nurse took over, stabilizing her. Due to the amount of head trauma, the doctor sedated her with a propofol IV drip, effectively inducing a coma.”

  “She’s a mess right now, but they’re looking after her. She could end up in a vegetative state due to those skull fractures. I’ve seen that before in vehicle accidents. I’m guessing there’s bone fragments in…,” but he trailed off, and then said, “She’s going need some pretty serious help, and soon.”

  Maxine heard Holt say, “Why the hell didn’t you tell us this before? We have to get this moving.”

  I’m close enough now, but they will be on me the moment I run. They are probably faster, but I have a good lead now.

  She braced her arms and legs on the floor and then lunged forward. Her nightgown did not move with her, but caught on something. Some threads in the shoulders ripped, but the garment held. Her bare feet slipped on the carpeting, and she landed on her elbows. She looked down. A boot, with dirt in the tread, pinned the hemline of her nightgown to the floor. She looked up to find Holt’s son staring down at her.

  Holt walked over to her, grabbed her arms, and yanked her to her feet.

  “You’re going to get Sam Cantwell on the intercom for me.”

  “No.”

  “This isn’t a debate. You’ll do it.” He pushed her ahead of him to the console. He touched the console, and the screen lit up with the United Aerospace logo. Then the screen darkened and “Locked—Enter Passcode” appeared.

  Maxine said through her bandages, “In a few hours, the entire military fleet will be destroyed. In a few minutes, that door will be broken down. You will be traitors in the New World.”

  Holt sighed just as someone knocked on the door. Maxine tried to yell out, but Holt’s son slapped his hand over her mouth, bandages and all. The pain was transcendental. Her shout, pinned in her mouth, boiled out her eyes as tears. She wanted to fall to the floor, to let all of her muscles go slack, to fall away from the pain in her face, but Holt’s son held her up.

  The intercom beside the door flicked to life, and Carter’s voice said, “Maxine? Are you up?” Another knock at the door. “Maxine? Is everything all right?”

  Holt walked toward the door and motioned for his son to follow with Maxine. When they reached the door, Holt turned to face her. He took out a black knife, unfolded it, and touched the tip of the blade to Maxine’s lower eyelid. She felt the blade bite into the skin. The cut burned with the salt from her tears.

  Holt leaned in on her. “If you struggle, I could slip.”

  Maxine held her head still.

  “Now, Leif is going to let you talk, but if you yell, I blind you. Got it?”

  With the blade resting on her eye socket, she nodded ever so slightly. Holt motioned to his son, and he released his grip on her mouth. Holt pressed the intercom switch by the door and then made a circular “get talking” motion with his hand.

  She said, “Yes. I’m fine.” Holt released the intercom switch.

  The door handle dipped down, and Holt cursed under his breath. The door stopped against the lock.

  The intercom clicked again. “Maxine, open the door.”

  Holt turned to Maxine. “Tell him to let you have a few–” but the lock on the door disengaged, and it opened.

  As it opened, Holt took two quick steps to stand behind it. Maxine saw Holt fold his knife and pocket it. Carter walked in and Holt shut the door with a gentle click. Carter’s head turned just as Holt’s fist slammed into his jaw. Carter fell to his knees and began to tip over. Holt grabbed him and covered his mouth with the palm of his hand. Holt turned Carter toward Maxine. Carter’s glazed eyes drifted for a moment. Then they focused, and he looked straight at her. He began to struggle, grabbing Holt’s arms and wrenching on them. But he could not break free.

  Holt leaned down to his ear. “If you keep struggling, and make too much noise, you both die.”

  Carter stopped fighting Holt, and Holt took his hand off Carter’s mouth. Carter looked at Maxine, concern in his eyes. Maxine thought she must look terrible to him.

  Worry for her showed through in his tone as he asked, “What have you done to her?”

  Holt’s son said, “Nothing she hasn’t fully earned.”

  Holt pushed Carter over to the intercom desk. He took out a pair of ha
ndcuffs and restrained Carter’s hands behind his back.

  “Now, one of you, I don’t care who, is going to set up a channel to Admiral Sam Cantwell, or someone is going to start losing skin.”

  CHAPTER 29

  As Jeffrey stared at Maxine King, his anger faded to disappointment. With her face bandaged, eyes red, and shoulders bent forward in defeat, she just wasn’t the same arrogant witch. Jeffrey had wanted revenge, but now only felt sorrow that he had been unable to prevent Stacy’s beating.

  Put it aside. Right now I have to stay focused on the orbiting ships. The clock hasn’t run out on those men and women.

  Jeffrey pushed Roberts to his knees and sat in the chair beside him. The console had gone dark, so he touched it, and “Locked—Enter Passcode” re-appeared.

  Jeffrey looked at Roberts. “Enter the code.”

  Roberts’ eyes tracked from the screen to Jeffrey, but he said nothing.

  “Not going to help me?”

  “No.”

  Jeffrey pointed at Maxine King. “You’re going to let people die because of that woman’s delusion? She’s a little insane looking to me.”

  Roberts looked over to Maxine. “She will always be beautiful to me.”

  Leif said, “You people aren’t all there, you know that?”

  “I’ll get the code one way or another,” Jeffrey said. “Just enter it now and save you and her the trouble.”

  Roberts turned and glared at Jeffrey. Jeffrey met his glare, waiting for Roberts to speak, but Roberts said nothing.

  Jeffrey felt anger rising up in his chest, and blurring to rage.

  I’ve had my limit of these two.

  He drew air deep into his lungs and let it go, his chest depressurizing. But the frustrated anger stayed with him. His right hand gripped into a fist. He breathed again.

  Anger makes a poor companion. You’ll adrenalize and make stupid mistakes.

  Roberts continued giving him a blank stare.

  Rage flared up beyond Jeffrey’s self-control. He grabbed Roberts by the back of the neck, digging his fingertips into the nerve bundles. Roberts, probably a military man himself at some point in his past, put his hands on the desk and pushed back on Jeffrey’s grip. Jeffrey let Roberts push back a few inches and then shoved him forward, slamming him face-first into the edge of the communication desk. Then he pulled Roberts back. Blood coursed from the ruined bridge of Roberts’ nose.

  “You want more?” Jeffrey said, digging his fingers into Roberts’ neck harder, wanting to crush the vertebrae to powder. “Tell me the passcode. Now.”

  Roberts’ eyes lolled in their sockets and then focused on Jeffrey. He spit out some blood. “Nothing you do can make me help you.”

  Jeffrey released Robert’s neck and looked at Maxine. He stood and said to Kyle Morgan, “Make sure he stays on his knees.”

  Jeffrey motioned for Leif to bring Maxine to him. Leif shoved her forward. Jeffrey waited until she was close, and then–in a quiet, calm voice–he said, “Do you want to tell me the passcode?”

  She opened her bandaged mouth slightly and spit on Jeffrey’s chest. Roberts chuckled behind him. Jeffrey looked over his shoulder and then back at Maxine.

  “So be it,” he said. He took the knife from his pocket and clacked it open, one-handed.

  He said to Leif, “Hold out one of her index fingers.”

  “What are you going to do?” Maxine said through her teeth. Jeffrey smiled at her, hoping to make her believe that he was sadistic enough to enjoy what was about to happen.

  “Nothing,” he said, “if you tell me the passcode.”

  She closed her eyes. “This is a test from God. I will prevail. He has shown me.”

  “You know what I think?” Jeffrey said, touching the flat of the blade to her cheek. “I think God prefers people like Stacy Zack.”

  Maxine’s eyes opened, and Jeffrey saw fury in them.

  Jeffrey gripped the tip of her silver fingernail between his thumb and index finger. Maxine tried to pull her hand away. Leif held her still. Jeffrey set the edge of the blade up under her fingernail and sliced slightly into the skin. Maxine screamed and tugged at her arm.

  “Last chance.”

  “Oh dear God,” Maxine said through her teeth, “help me.” Her whole body shook, and she said, “Carter, I can’t be ruined, don’t let them, tell them the passcode. I can’t.”

  “Not now, Maxine,” Roberts said. With his hands still cuffed behind his back, he leaned his shoulder into the desk, stood, and turned toward her. Kyle grabbed his shoulder and Roberts pulled away from him. “You can’t give up now.” He spit blood onto the carpet. “I know you’re afraid, but take strength in your vision.”

  “They’ll kill me,” she said.

  “You cannot die,” Roberts said, his voice now soothing. “You’re the mother of the New World. It has been decided by God. We will change the face of human civilization together. You have to remain strong.”

  Jeffrey said, “Enough,” and nodded to Kyle.

  Kyle grabbed Roberts by the upper arm and tried to pull him down to his knees, but Roberts turned and drove his shoulder into Kyle, knocking him to the floor. Kyle scrambled to his feet.

  “The baton to the side of the knee perhaps?” Jeffrey said.

  Kyle pulled his baton from his belt, and swung it at Roberts’ left knee. Roberts hopped back, and Kyle missed.

  “Dammit,” Jeffrey said, stepping around from behind Maxine. Roberts turned toward Jeffrey just as Jeffrey’s hand, palm open, caught Roberts under the chin. The strike lifted Roberts off his feet, and he landed on his back with a punt of breath.

  “You get up again,” Jeffrey said, “and you’ll regret it.”

  Roberts rolled to his side, groaning.

  Jeffrey walked around behind Maxine and grabbed the tip of her fingernail. In one sliding sweep, he sliced the nail and nail bed from her finger. Maxine’s eyes went wide, and her mouth came open. Chest fluttering, she seemed unable to draw a breath. Her face tinted red, and her shoulders trembled. Finally, she sucked in air and screamed.

  “Tear a stitch?” Jeffrey held out the nail with the meaty underside up. “I can do all ten. Then I’ll begin cutting off the finger joints themselves. We’ll cauterize the stubs with an open flame to keep you from bleeding out.”

  Maxine trembled now in the involuntary manner of the hypothermic. She slouched over and, as tears ran from her eyes, twisted her head from side to side. She looked at Jeffrey, and her eyes begged him to stop.

  Jeffrey tossed the fingernail to the carpet. “Get her thumb out.” Then he said to Maxine, “Did God tell you what sort of condition you’d be in as the mother of the New World?”

  Leif’s fingers wrapped around her thumb, and Jeffrey grabbed the tip of the nail. He placed the blade under the nail, again cutting the skin just a bit. A bead of blood welled up from the cut.

  Maxine winced, looked at the desk, and–her words muffled by the bandaging–said, “Communications console, Maxine King zero-zero-eight, open channel, contact Admiral Sam Cantwell.”

  The “locked” image darkened. Then the desk illuminated with the United Aerospace insignia. A professional female voice said, “Voice recognition not confirmed, please re-state.”

  “You cowardly bitch,” Roberts shouted at her. “How dare you give in. Don’t you know what this will mean?”

  Maxine glanced at Roberts and then stared at the desk. Kyle flicked at a syringe, jabbed it into the side of Roberts’ neck, and Maxine’s last line of defense folded over, unconscious on the floor.

  Jeffrey cut deeper into the tip of her thumb, and Maxine let out a trilling shriek as she tried to yank her hand free. Jeffrey and Leif held her in place. She looked at Jeffrey, her eyes terrified. “Please stop.”

  “Unlock the console,” Jeffrey said, “and I’ll stop.”

  She nodded and said with slow, careful words, “Communications console, Maxine King zero-zero-eight, open channel, contact Admiral Sam Cantwell.”

&
nbsp; “Verified,” the female voice said. “Raising contact Admiral Sam Cantwell.”

  Maxine lowered her head.

  Jeffrey said to Kyle, “Bandage her finger.”

  From the console, an older, male voice said with uncharacteristic shock, “Hello? Maxine?”

  Jeffrey looked at the screen and saw Sam Cantwell’s weathered face. The concern in Cantwell’s faded-blue eyes darkened to scowling animosity when he saw Jeffrey.

  “Holt? What the hell is going on? Why does this call show as coming from Maxine King’s residence?”

  CHAPTER 30

  “Admiral Cantwell, how are you today?”

  “Cut the crap, Holt. I’ve been briefed on what you’ve done over the last few days. What the hell’s gone wrong with you? Did you have some kind of post-traumatic reaction when United Aerospace came to inspect the site? They show up for a routine engineering inspection and you start killing them. You need to stand down and turn yourself in.”

  Jeffrey motioned for Leif to bring Maxine King to him. He pointed to the screen and said to Maxine, “Tell him.”

  “Sam,” Maxine said with deference, “Jeffrey Holt thinks that I am out to destroy the world’s military.”

  Her audacity shocked Jeffrey. He looked at the fingernail on the carpet.

  “Jesus Holy Christ, Holt,” Cantwell said, leaning in to look at Maxine. “What have you done to her?”

  “Sir,” Jeffrey said, “she thinks the war never happened. She has fostered a cult within her staff and has a standing army ready to take power once she has destroyed the fleet.”

  Admiral Cantwell stared at Jeffrey with his mouth slightly open.

  “Look, sir,” Jeffrey said, “I know this sounds insane, but…”

  “That’s enough, Holt,” Cantwell said. “This doesn’t just sound insane, it is insane. You’re having some kind of post-traumatic stress reaction. Now I realize that you…”