Carnival of Mayhem (Gray Spear Society)

by Siegel, Alex

  "The world moves in slow motion for me," she said. "I always have plenty of time to contemplate my choices. Too much."

  "What does that mean, ma'am?" he asked.

  She looked at him. "Some days I get tired of being the Lord's instrument of vengeance." She turned away. "It's a lonely existence."

  "You regret your life?"

  "No, but I could use a break from it sometimes."

  "Then take a vacation," Aaron said. "Marina and I can hold down the fort. After we're done with this mission, go to Tahiti for a week. Soak up some sun. Relax."

  She smiled. "Thanks, but I don't know how to relax. I'll have a long vacation when I'm dead. Besides, I don't think God wants me to take time off. He has plans for me. For both of us, actually."

  He heard a twig snap. He stopped walking and looked around but couldn't see any movement. He used the thermal scope and spotted a rabbit hiding in the brush.

  "How do you know what God wants, ma'am?" Smythe said. "Do you communicate with Him?"

  Ethel turned to him. "Not with words," she said, "but I feel His presence sometimes. I can sense His intentions. I can't really explain it."

  Smythe furrowed his brow.

  The farm buildings loomed large in the night. Plenty of places for bad guys to hide, Aaron thought. This will be difficult.

  "How do you want to do this, ma'am?" he said.

  "I'm sure the Eternals have a grand plan," Ethel said. "They still intend to kill a huge number of people even with the carnival gone."

  "I agree," Aaron said.

  "Definitely," Smythe said.

  "So," Ethel said, "we have to figure out the grand plan and stop it quickly. Along the way we'll kill as many as we can."

  Aaron noticed flickering orange light in the windows of the farmhouse. "Damn. It's on fire."

  "The Eternals are destroying the evidence," she said.

  The fire was spreading as he watched. There was no way to stop the wooden structure from burning to the ground.

  Marina emerged from the shadows. She had smudged dirt on her face to augment the camouflage covering her entire body. Even from just a few yards away, she was hard to see in the poor light.

  "We have a problem, ma'am," she said.

  Ethel nodded. "We noticed."

  "We still have a few minutes to gather evidence," Smythe said. "I can guide you to Harbinger's office and show you his secret safe."

  "You want to run into a burning building?"

  "Do we have a choice? Our best leads are going up in smoke."

  Ethel reached up and grabbed the air in front of Aaron's neck, as if she were catching a mosquito. A knife appeared in her hand instead. He realized somebody had thrown it, and her supernaturally quick reflexes had saved his life. She ran off in the direction the knife had come from.

  "Get the evidence!" she yelled over her shoulder.

  "Wow," Smythe said.

  "Tell us where to go," Aaron said.

  "Second door from the right."

  Aaron and Marina supported Smythe on both sides. They ran over to the huge, black farmhouse. Aaron kicked open the door.

  The interior was already hazy with smoke. The warm air felt good but also reminded him they didn't have much time.

  Smythe directed them up a flight of stairs and down a hallway. They entered a dark office. Aaron tried the light switch and fortunately, it still worked.

  Two dozen cardboard boxes were taped shut and stacked beside a steel desk. Apparently, Harbinger had packed up his office.

  "We have to get all those boxes outside before the fire reaches this room," Aaron said.

  Marina grabbed a box from the top of the stack and heaved it through the window. Panes of glass shattered. The box fell to the ground outside and landed with a thump.

  "I'll deal with the boxes," she said. "You open the safe."

  She threw out another box.

  Smythe went to a blank, wooden wall and pushed one of the planks. A hidden door popped open, revealing a large safe. "Voilà!"

  Aaron walked over and examined the safe critically. The door had three, oversized hinges. He felt confident he could dissolve them, but bolts also held the door in place. He doubted he had enough saliva in his mouth for the entire job. There was too much hardened steel to cut and not enough time. Already, the smoke was getting thicker and the air was getting warmer.

  He had an idea. The bottom of a safe was usually the weakest part because it was inaccessible. He spat at the floor around the safe, and his saliva quickly burned big holes in the wooden planks. It didn't take long for the weakened floor to sag and splinter under the enormous weight. Suddenly, it gave way. With a great crashing noise, the safe fell through and toppled over on the floor below.

  Without hesitation he jumped through the hole. He seemed to be in a bedroom. The safe had crushed a bunk bed.

  The bottom of the safe was a single, metal plate held with eight large rivets. He spat at the rivets and they disintegrated in a cloud of yellow smoke. Then, the entire plate fell off, exposing the interior of the safe.

  There wasn't time to be picky. He dumped out a footlocker to use it for storage. Then, he transferred the contents of the safe to the footlocker until smoke started making him cough.

  "We have to go!" Aaron yelled up.

  "We'll jump out the window!" Marina said. "The hallway is on fire! I'll meet you outside!"

  He opened the bedroom door, and a wall of flame forced him to close it right away. The wave of intense heat left him bleary eyed. He looked around for another escape but the bedroom had no windows. Maybe it had been built as a storage room. Damn, he thought. I have to make my own hole.

  He launched himself into a flying kick and struck one of the walls. The wood cracked under the blow. It took four more hits before there was a hole big enough to see through. Cold, fresh air was drawn into the room, giving him some relief. Wall studs were in his way, so he used his saliva to weaken them, and then ripped them out with brute strength. Marina widened the hole from the other side by prying it with a knife. Finally, he was able to push the footlocker through.

  Flames entered the room just as Aaron was escaping. He took a deep breath of night air. It had never tasted so good.

  "Whew!" he said. "That was a little more intense than I prefer."

  Smythe was lying on the dirt. He was alive, but clearly, the fall from a second story window had hurt him. He had lacked the strength to land safely.

  Many cardboard boxes were scattered across the ground. They had rescued a lot of very valuable evidence, maybe enough to complete this mission. It had been a good night.

  Aaron was trying to catch his breath and clear his head when he glimpsed movement in the shadows behind a shed. His sniper rifle was still slung over his back, and he slid it around to firing position. He discovered the thermal scope had fallen off. Crap. The weapon was nearly useless without sights.

  Standing in the open, he suddenly felt very exposed. His only protection was a lightweight Kevlar vest. He didn't even have a combat helmet.

  "We need to move," he said.

  "I'll get the helicopter and land it here," Marina said. "You and Smythe find some cover. Guard the evidence until I come back."

  He wasn't excited about this plan, but he didn't have a better one. "OK."

  She ran off.

  Aaron looked around for the nearest place to hide. He needed a good, defensive position. His gaze settled on an old barn.

  Grunting, he picked up Smythe and slung him over his shoulder. Aaron shuffled over to the barn and deposited Smythe on a pile of hay. He moaned softly.

  Aaron climbed up into the loft. He squatted down in a dark corner where he had a good view of the whole interior of the barn.

  He drew his gun, a HK USP Tactical that fired .45 caliber ammunition. The magazine held only 12 bullets and reloading was a slow process, so he would have to pick his shots. He didn't want to be caught in the middle of a firefight with an empty clip.

  Smythe hadn't mo
ved an inch. He really needed medical treatment. Soon, Aaron thought. We're almost done here.

  Two dark shapes slipped into the barn. The movement was so quick and silent Aaron almost missed it. He raised his gun. The intruders had already vanished into the shadows, which wavered in the light from the growing fire.

  Aaron forced himself to stay relaxed and perfectly still. Ethel had given him quite a bit of training in the ninja arts, so he knew how to be invisible. Patience was the most important element. Even if he had to hold still all night, he would not be the first to reveal himself.

  Minutes passed. On a cold night like tonight the insects were quiet, so the only sounds were the fire outside and his own breathing. His legs tingled but he didn't shift his weight because that might make the floorboards creak.

  A dark shape moved towards Smythe, who was still motionless. Aaron aimed but didn't pull the trigger. Firing would reveal his position, and after Aaron killed the first enemy, the second would kill Aaron.

  Smythe abruptly rolled over and shot the enemy in the face. He was still holding the Beretta that Aaron had given him.

  Aaron noticed sudden movement elsewhere in the barn. The second Eternal was about to throw a knife.

  Aaron fired at his head. He collapsed with the knife still in his hand.

  "Good shot," Ethel said.

  Aaron was so startled he fell over. She crouched near him, just a few feet away.

  "How did you...?" he said.

  She smiled, and her white teeth gleamed in the firelight. "I climbed up here."

  "I was listening and watching very, very carefully."

  "Not carefully enough, it seems. You stink of sweat and smoke. I could've found you with my eyes closed, literally. Next time, hide near a pile of manure. It will mask your pungent odor."

  "Yes, ma'am." His heart was still beating fast.

  "I caught and killed three enemies," she said, "but some of them got away. I found fresh tire tracks. No sign of Harbinger or the poison."

  "We rescued a lot of evidence, ma'am."

  "I saw. Well done."

  Aaron heard a helicopter approaching. He climbed down from the loft and walked over to Smythe.

  "Are you OK?" Aaron said.

  "Not really," Smythe said in a weak voice.

  "Just hang on. We'll get you out of here."

  Marina landed the helicopter in the yard outside. It was dark blue and had four seats. There was some cargo space in back, but not nearly enough to accommodate all the boxes from Harbinger's office.

  Aaron picked up Smythe, carried him to the helicopter, and placed him in the co-pilot's seat. Aaron belted him in tightly so he couldn't fall over.

  Meanwhile, Marina and Ethel loaded the evidence into the helicopter. They filled the cargo area as well as the entire rear seating section.

  "What about us?" Aaron said.

  "We'll walk out of here," Ethel said. "The nearest town is only a few miles away."

  He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

  After all the evidence was stowed, Marina climbed into the pilot's seat and started the engine.

  "Take Smythe to the nearest hospital," Ethel yelled. "Then, fly back to Chicago. Tell Nancy and Jack to meet you at the airport to help unload."

  Marina saluted. She closed the door and the helicopter took off. Aaron shut his eyes to protect them from blown dirt.

  After the helicopter was gone, he looked around. The farmhouse was completely engulfed in flames. He could feel the heat on his face from where he was standing.

  "Let's go," Ethel said.

  They started walking.

  * * *

  "Hello?" a male voice said. "Can you hear me? Nurse, can you wake him up?"

  Smythe woke up. He was lying in a hospital bed, but he had no memory of how he had gotten there. An IV was dripping a glucose and saline solution into his arm.

  A man in a brown, tweed jacket stood at the end of the bed. He had a pencil poised over a notebook. A nurse was beside him and she appeared anxious.

  "You're awake," the man said. "Good. I'm Detective McQueen, Winnebago County Sheriff's Department. I have a few questions for you. Let's start with your name."

  Smythe slowly recalled the events of the night. His last memory was passing out in the helicopter. Marina must've delivered him to the hospital.

  He realized he was very fortunate to be alive. Ethel and her crew had rescued him from certain death, even though he had done little to earn the favor. He didn't know whether he would've been as generous in her place. For the first time in his life, he understood the meaning of the word "salvation." Thank you, God, and I'll keep my promise to be a good soldier from now on.

  "I don't remember my name."

  McQueen raised his eyebrows. "You have amnesia?"

  "I guess so."

  "A woman brought you here in a helicopter. She flew off without giving any information. Do you remember her name?"

  Smythe shrugged. "Sorry. It's all a blank."

  "You were wrapped in black robes soaked in blood. Somebody else's blood."

  "That's strange."

  "You have nasty wounds on your back." McQueen glared at him. "They look like whip marks. You must remember getting those."

  Smythe had vivid memories of being whipped by Harbinger. "No. I wish I could be helpful, detective, but I can't tell you anything."

  Smythe remembered something else: the poison. He had failed to acquire a sample during the night. However, it was possible the chemical equipment was still set up on the ceremonial platform. If he hurried back there, he might be able to collect enough material for a successful analysis. Thousands of lives could be saved. This time, though, he would get Ethel's approval first.

  "Really?"

  "Yes," Smythe said. "Do you know anything about me? Maybe you can help me recover my memories."

  The detective frowned and closed his notebook. "No. You had no identification when you were admitted, and the computer couldn't match your fingerprints. You seem surprisingly calm about all this."

  Smythe shrugged. "I'm very weak and tired. I have to rest. I'd like you to leave now."

  "Fine." McQueen angrily threw a business card at the bed and left the room.

  "Do you need anything?" the nurse asked.

  "Just more sleep," Smythe said. "Wait, where are my personal possessions?"

  "The police took your clothes as evidence. All they left was this." She went to a closet and took out his phone, which was in a clear plastic bag.

  "That's perfect. Thanks. I need to make a private phone call."

  She cocked her head. "Do you really have amnesia? There is nothing on your chart about head injuries."

  "Just leave me alone, please."

  She gave him the phone and left.

  Once he was alone, he settled back in his bed. The movement aggravated the wounds on his back. He hadn't lied about being very weak, and he didn't know whether he had the strength to do anything but sleep. He didn't have a choice, though.

  He unlocked his phone with a secret combination of key presses, followed by the number for headquarters.

  Ethel answered, "Hi. You finally woke up."

  "How long was I out, ma'am?"

  "Fourteen hours."

  "Shit. Did I miss anything?" Smythe said.

  "While you were sleeping, we started analyzing the evidence from the Farm. The most valuable papers were written in code, but Edward cracked it after a few hours of work. He is a true genius. We now have the complete membership list of the Order of Eternal Night. It may take a while, but we'll hunt them all down."

  "That's great, ma'am. What about the grand plan? What about the poison?"

  "The grand plan is still a mystery," Ethel said. "There are clues in the papers, but we haven't put them all together. We found the recipe for the poison, by the way. We know how it's made."

  "That's fantastic news!" He grinned. "Now we can find a cure!"

  "Still trying to be a heroic doctor? That may not be easy. The recipe is
complex and very peculiar."

  "Then I'd better get to work. I'll return to headquarters as soon as I can."

  "No," she said. "I have another task for you. The sheriff's department is at the Farm. The place is swarming with cops now. The murder investigation has become rather enormous, as you'd expect. We left plenty of interesting corpses behind."

  "So?"

  "The sheriff doesn't know what was going on at the Farm. We need to make sure it stays that way."

  "Why?" he said.

  "Do you think the Eternals invented the poison? An enemy of God gave them the formula! That glowing thing you saw is responsible for all this trouble, all this death. The secret of the poison must die with the Eternals. Can you imagine what would happen if that kind of weapon fell into the hands of the military?"

  Her point was impossible to refute. Smythe had participated in secret Army meetings where officers had suggested PRooFS could be used as a weapon. That potential was one of the reasons the Army had sent some of its best and brightest to Saint Athanasius Hospital. Finding a cure was only half of the military's agenda.

  "What do you want me to do, ma'am?"

  "Develop a mole inside the sheriff's department," she said. "We need to stay on top of this situation as it develops."

  "I understand." He made a sour face. "Espionage isn't my specialty, but I'll do my best. Can I offer a bribe?"

  "Of course. I already prepared a cover story for you. I'll text all the details to your phone."

  "What about money? Clothes? Weapons? I have nothing but a hospital gown."

  "The instructions will include the address of a nearby currency exchange. Go there and give them your name. Your fake name. You'll get plenty of money and you can buy the rest."

  "Yes, ma'am," he said. "I already know who I'm going to try to recruit. Detective McQueen from Winnebago County. He was just in my room, asking questions."

  "I'll have Edward run a background check. Maybe he'll find some dirt you can use for leverage. Good luck." She hung up.

  Smythe sighed. Undercover work didn't suit his personality at all. He would much rather be searching for the cure for the poison or hunting Eternals. He was a man of action and integrity.

  After a couple of minutes his phone chirped. He had a long text message containing a description of his new identity. He scanned through it. I'm a secret government agent now, he thought. How fun.