by John Conroe
“She’s clear,” was the pronouncement.
Stacia went next, hands held to shoulder level. The massive shirt came to barely mid-thigh and I think if she raised her hands any higher, her modesty would have been compromised.
She, too, was pronounced clear.
Next went Nika, then Arkady. Tanya told Awasos to change to wolf before sending him out. Finally, it was just her and I.
“You go next,” she said.
“Nope, you. They’re gonna be all keyed up when I go. I don’t want you caught in the kill zone if they get itchy,” I said, wiping my hands on about a dozen napkins. My savage food frenzy had left them a mess.
We went together, holding hands. Everyone tensed up when they saw us, with much yelling and screaming for us drop to our knees almost as soon as we stepped outside the door of the café. Then the stupid scanner thingy went off when Adine waved it over me. It beeped once and Adine jumped back.
“Wait!” Tanya yelled before things could go all pear shaped. “It’s probably his blood. He was exposed to demon blood several years ago.”
Adine was ten feet to our side and now she studied her readout. “It’s a very low reading, Nathan, barely registering.”
“Check him again,” he said, his eyes hard and his mustache twitching. Beside him, I saw the teen girl, Ariel, watching with eyes wide open. She clutched something in one hand. Despite everything around me, it caught my attention.
Adine came up and scanned us again, two soldiers coming out from behind us to help.
“Yeah, it’s a super low-level reading,” she reported.
Nathan grimaced, coming to a decision. “Chris, we’re gonna cuff you just to be safe.”
The soldiers behind me clicked heavy cuffs around my wrists, moving my hands from the back of my neck to the small of my back. Then something clicked around my neck and both ankles.
Tanya glanced my way and started to frown. “Hey, what the…” was as far as she got before Adine snapped silver cuffs on her wrists. Tanya started to stand up but Adine wrapped her legs around her from behind and took her to the ground, stabbing her in the neck with a syringe.
Grim thrust forward, twisting my body to stand, but two sharp bites, one on my neck, the other in my ass, burned through me, my muscles locking up and starting to jerk involuntarily.
I fell forward, my eyes on Nathan’s. His looked sad, even as his mouth formed a straight line of determination. Beside him, Ariel looked scared and upset, but still holding that black object by her leg, pointing whatever it was straight at me.
Then I locked up even more, going rigid. I hit the ground and bounced, my vision now locked on Tanya as the light around us dimmed. Her blue, blue eyes were all I saw before the lights went out.
Chapter 33
They never fully went out—the lights, that is. There were jumbled sounds and sensations of moving, blurs of light and periods of dark, and the whole time, I was frozen solid—muscles locked and rigid.
There followed a whole lot of shouting and commands, boots pounding, gear rattling, along with the electric whine of a motor. The bouncing of being carried smoothed into the glide and sway of a vehicle ride. We went down what felt like a sharp incline, and light penetrated my eyelids in a steady progression, like white lines down the middle of a road or… overhead lights flashing past.
We came to a stop and there was more yelling and bouncing, then the sounds of two electric vehicles moving away.
“Hurry, this stuff won’t last long,” one voice huffed.
“Come on, Sarge, those hypos were like bananas. There must be enough of that stuff in this guy to kill a rhino,” another said.
“Shut the fuck up, Morgan, and keep hauling. This ain’t no rhino we’re hauling,” the sarge voice said.
“Yeah, he’s the motherfucking God Hammer, that’s all,” a new voice added from somewhere in the vicinity of my feet. “He weighs a freaking ton.”
“You just shut it too, Corporal,” Sarge said. “Let’s get him in here and chained before the motherfucker wakes up. You want to be here then?”
A breathless chorus of no’s sounded. “Alright, Morgan, you lock his legs to that chain there and corporal numbnuts here can lock up his arms.”
Feeling was coming back to my limbs and my eyelids started to twitch as I was dumped on the floor.
“Hurry, you assholes, he’s coming to,” the sarge said as the ratchet sound of locks snapping and chains rattling filled my ears.
Footsteps pounded away and then a whoosh sound accompanied a metal-on-metal clunk and click as if something heavy and metal had just closed. Whirring noises like motor servos sounded by the upper corners of the room.
I opened my eyes. And closed them against the harsh bright light. Opening them again found more of the eye-searing light, but I manned up and kept them open, ignoring the tears that formed. After a few good blinks, I got my vision back and looked around my new surroundings.
I was in a large square glass room, which seemed to be inside another, much larger space. Huge high-powered lights shone down through the thick glass ceiling, making the vast space overhead murky and dark. The outside floor seemed to be made of an acre or so of concrete. The whirring in the upper corners was coming from automated mini-guns mounted in each corner of my glass box, all four pointed straight at me.
The floor underneath me was rubber coated, but based on the draining feeling I was getting from it, it was probably depleted uranium. Outside my box, Nathan Stewart was looking at me, a distinctly unhappy expression on his face. Beside him stood General Creek, who looked unhappy as well, but his was more of an I-hate-the-asshole-in-the-box type look, mixed with I-wish-I-could-just-shoot-him.
Four lines of six soldiers each stood around the four sides of my crystal square. Movement in the upper darkness caught my eye and I switched to infrared vision, the thermal outlines of two snipers lying prone on steel catwalks, heavy rifles pointed at me.
I checked my link. It was still there, feeding me a steady hum of silent rage from my vampire. She was also in a box, but I think she could see the others. Then I felt something else, another connection, this one more feelings than anything else. Stacia was mad too and I could sense her frustration. Wherever they were, they seemed to be together. It might have been a different part of this space but I couldn’t hear, see, or smell them. Just feel the links, humming with frustration.
“I’m sorry, Chris. I had my orders and much as I protested them, I still had to follow them,” Nathan said as he noticed me awake. His voice came from the corner of the ceiling and the wall on my right, where compact speakers were installed.
“Yeah, Gordon, imagine that… someone who follows orders. Strange concept, huh?” General Creek said.
I sat up, not speaking but just studying my situation. The cuffs on my legs and arms were now locked to heavy chains sunk deep into massive bolts in the floor. My legs were stretched out in front of me and my hands were still behind my back, leaving me just enough room to sit on my ass, but none to move around and get any kind of leverage.
“The cuffs are DU, as is the floor and the collar around your neck. So are the bullets in the mini-guns. Your collar also contains a radio-controlled explosive that’s strong enough to actually break the armored Lexan that surrounds you, which itself is almost a foot thick. Oh, and your collar is linked to matching collars on all your little gang of freaks, each coated in DU to keep you from messing up the mixture. So if you so much as twitch, there’ll be seven matching explosions. It’d be a hell of bloody mess,” Creek said, voice even and deep. “Also, there are sensors that look for particle emissions—try any of your tricks and the collars go off.”
I turned it all over in my head. Nathan’s precognitive, Ariel, figured out where we would emerge, right smack in the middle of the most heavily guarded building on earth, the Pentagon. The government saw the opportunity and took it. Now we were chained and booby-trapped, locked down in the bowls of the Pentagon.
“No comme
nts, smartass?” Creek asked.
I didn’t answer, locked deep in a wrestling match with Grim. He wanted to go for it. Pull the Sword from its pocket in space and time, cut my bonds and collar and take them all on. He had it all figured, the exact angle to pull the Sword with my back-bound hands so that the lump of explosive I could feel at the back of my head would be cut as the Sword manifested. If I had been by myself, I might have let him.
But even if his speed was great enough and the Sword sharp enough to cut the explosive collar and my chains, it wouldn’t save the others. And I was terrified to lose any of them. Not to mention that if they all died, I wouldn’t be able to stop my dark side from wreaking vengeance. Cataclysmic, apocalyptic vengeance. The sky’s falling kind of vengeance.
“Why not just kill me, Nathan? Why take any risk at all?” I asked, finally breaking my silence.
His face twisted for a moment, his twitching mustache and goatee almost comical. Almost.
“Because those were not my orders,” a new voice said as a flood of footsteps announced a small army of new arrivals. Black suits filled my vision before spreading out enough for me to see the gray-suited speaker in the midst of a sea of Secret Service agents. The woman by his side was familiar… too familiar.
But his face was immediately recognizable; it even predated my memory loss, having seen it enough times on TV and in the papers. President Hogan Garth looked more impressive in person, more than his admittedly impactful media images.
He was a big man, maybe six-two or six-three, and built like an athlete, albeit an older one. His salt-and-pepper hair was more salt than pepper, maybe an effect of two years in office.
Alexis Bishop stood at his elbow, face expressionless, studying me. Her boss looked self-satisfied, almost smug.
“No Mr. Gordon, simply killing you doesn’t suffice. Right, Alexis?” President Garth asked.
“Right, Mr. President,” she said, still watching me.
“Do you know why, Mr. Gordon?” he asked.
“Because your ratings are already in the dirt and the public would demand impeachment… Mr. President?” I offered, keeping it civil. After all, he was calling me mister; the least I could do was use his title. But I would only do the least.
He frowned, just a flash, but it was there. “Because you are a disruptor, Mr. Gordon. Like Google or Apple has done with the Internet and personal electronics, only you disrupt the smooth flow of society. You’ve disrupted countless lives, caused untold nightmares for the citizens of this nation—hell, the citizens of the world. Exposing the monsters that hunt the darkness to the light of day. Have you any idea how many people are suddenly too terrified to leave their homes for fear of demons, werewolves, or vampires? It’s epidemic—a society-wide psychosis that is crippling businesses, schools, and government.”
“Yeah, and it was all her idea,” I said, looking at Alexis. She blanched, her face going white for a moment before red flushed the white away.
“It was a threat, Gordon. I didn’t actually do it,” Alexis said. The President frowned at her and she stopped talking.
“Let’s be real, Mr. President. I didn’t reveal anything that wasn’t already exposed by the media. I just put names to it and offered explanations. Oh, and saved countless lives, including your own, in the process, all while you tried to kill me.”
“Let’s talk about that a bit. It was your interview that forced Homeland Security to grab Agent Duclair and cause her to reveal her… bad side. Then you proceeded to destroy much of downtown Washington and then attacked the sworn agents and officers of this nation,” he said.
“Do you honestly think anyone who watched the coverage live is buying any of that?” I asked. “Or do you think that instead, they see a President who has been ineffectual at protecting the nation from the greatest threat it has ever seen. A President who couldn’t protect himself. And now you have me locked up down here, while Hell is free to send its legions through any and all gates.”
“Actually, what the nation is seeing this morning are teams of government agents, led by Oracle’s technicians, who are cleaning up and shutting down the few gates that did open last night, while you and your vaunted supernaturals are nowhere to be seen. You abandoned the American people last night in their hour of need, but alas, the vision you painted never came to be. Only a handful of gates opened last night, and just a few demons came through. All stopped by the heroic efforts of the men and women of Homeland Security and Oracle. You see, Gordon, nobody knows that you fell into Hell or that you somehow came back. They just know that you left them in the lurch. But I reassured the nation from the Oval Office that all was under control, demonstrating the leadership that they needed to see.”
“An Oval Office that was only there because we saved it, and if Hell didn’t break loose here last night, it was because we were keeping it busy,” I said, anger rising even though I knew that’s what he was trying to do.
“Well, I do thank you for stopping that demon before it could get to the White House, but I don’t think you saved me. I was secure and protected. And now, because of Oracle’s technology, we are demonstrating how only the government can keep the nation safe,” he said.
“In fact, you have provided a unique opportunity. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get anything done in this government? Those idiots in Congress oppose me at every turn. Can’t pass a law to save my life. But then you arrive with this massive threat—an enemy so alien that people set aside their beliefs and politics to come together and fight it. It’s a beautiful thing, Gordon. You and your people may have kept Hell too busy to send more forces through, but the citizens of this country, hell, the citizens of the world, listened to your little pep talk and worked together to get through the night. And now after you’ve abandoned them, they’re turning to me… as they should.”
“Never let a crisis go to waste?” I asked. “Lucky thing you failed to kill me with that missile, then.”
“Well, you’re wrong about that. I never attempted to kill you. Here you are under lock and key and I haven’t ordered you executed, have I? No. You think running this country, this government is easy? There are organizations and divisions that don’t answer to me. Groups set up by law… sealed law, that run outside the Executive Office, that run outside of politics. Their job is to protect the Republic. And I would say that at least one of them has identified you as a threat to the country.”
“More AIR,” I said.
“Agents in Rebus was a privately funded group. What I’m talking about are legal, black budget groups charged with using every means possible to guard the nation.”
“And so they’re likely to know about this and where we are. You’re offering us up as either bait or a sacrifice.”
“Let’s just say that I’ve reached an agreement with them to back off for the time being. That maybe we can use you as an asset. They’ve given me some time to figure that out.”
Alexis was pulled aside by a uniformed officer, who spoke with her quietly for a moment. Her expression locked down, but for a moment, a glimmer of shock had flashed across it. She turned back to her boss, pulling him down and whispering into his ear.
It gave me time to think about Garth’s words. History belongs to the victors. Gramps used to say that quote from time to time, usually after reading some crap in a paper or watching the news. It was true. Whoever controlled the media and the official recording of history would write the details that the nation would eventually come to believe. A simple fact of human nature: we believe what people in authority tell us. Frankly, most people don’t want to look too closely for the truth. Despite the noble origins of journalism, today’s reality is that the government controls the media and the media controls what we read, hear, and see. With us locked away and a story being told of our abandonment, while video showed Oracle cleaning up the mess, we would be discredited and then forgotten. Old news.
I was trussed up and rigged to explode, and all my people were as well. Stuffed into
the most secure basement on the planet. His words had gotten to me, painting a bleak picture. Grim surged below the surface, sensing my panic. Options rolled across my consciousness; violent options that promised revenge but not salvation. Despite the depleted uranium and the shackles and the explosives, I could still bring down the heavens. Make the sky fall as it were, but it wouldn’t save my friends. Grim offered up the concept that nobody lives forever. Why not chose your death—go out with a bang and take your enemies with you?
I wavered for a moment, considering my dark half’s ideas… and ultimately rejected them. It was early yet. The kamikaze approach was not my answer—not yet.
Garth straightened up, struggling to contain a sudden anger, trying to keep his expression blank. He turned his eyes on Nathan Stewart and General Tobias Creek. Giving me one last dark look, he walked away, pointing his arm at the Director and the General. “You two with me. I need you to help me understand something,” he said, voice frigid. The three walked away into the darkness, surrounded by bodyguards.