by Toby Tate
They followed the sidewalk as it curved around into a cul-de-sac with an island of trees and bushes in the center, past several red NO STANDING signs and eventually came to the entrance of the park, bracketed by two short concrete pillars. They passed through and continued walking, Gabe about two paces behind Hunter. They hadn’t spoken most of the way there and Hunter apparently had decided it was time.
“So, do you always use a gun on your first date?” he quipped.
“I’m glad you at least retained a sense of humor. Do you remember anything about the last few days?”
“Not really. I know my name is Hunter, but something happened to the rest of my memory, like it’s been wiped clean. I guess I’m lucky I still remember how to speak.”
“Well, Hunter, we’re going to fix that very soon.”
“Who are you with, anyway? You’re not really with Lilith, are you? You’re some kind of law enforcement, right?”
“CIA.”
As they went deeper into the park, Gabe saw there was quite an abundance of green open space and decided to forego the park bench and instead camp out under a tree. That would provide shelter and the grass was probably more comfortable than a wooden park bench, anyway.
“Come on, let’s go this way,” she said, indicating an open area with a tree in the center. “We’ll rest here temporarily.”
“What are we resting for? Are we going somewhere?”
Gabe decided it would be futile to try explaining things to Hunter in his present condition.
“I’ll tell you later,” she said.
They approached a large dogwood tree with flowers sprouting up from the branches in tiny white explosions.
“Take a seat in the grass,” she said.
Gabe reached inside her back pocket and pulled out a small canvas case with a zipper around it. She tossed it down to Hunter as he got comfortable with his back to the tree.
“Open it,” she said.
Hunter picked up the case, unzipped it and pulled out a small glass vial of yellow liquid.
“Open the lid and drink it. All of it,” Gabe said.
Hunter opened the lid and inspected the contents. He took a sniff, made a sour face and glanced at Gabe.
“All of it?” he asked.
Gabe simply nodded her head, the barrel of her gun still pointing at him.
Hunter shrugged his shoulders and downed the liquid in one gulp. He threw the vial in the grass and screwed his face into a grimace.
“Holy shit, that’s worse than cod liver oil,” he said, and tried to spit the taste out of his mouth.
But then something happened. The white liquid began appearing on his brow almost immediately. He wiped his hand across it and stared at his fingers.
“What the hell did you do to me?” he said.
Hunter began oozing more of the liquid from all the pores of his body and stood up in the grass looking down at himself. He stripped off his shirt as the liquid continued secreting from his dark skin, like all the white blood cells suddenly decided to leave his body. This was the first parasite Gabe had seen and she found herself backing away as Hunter stumbled around in the grass.
The liquid trickled from his nose and ears and finally came up his throat. He fell down on his hands and knees and began vomiting rivers of white, and Gabe could hear him choking and trying to suck in a breath between each wave.
When his eyes started to tear up, Hunter screamed that he couldn’t see, flailing his hands around like a blind man. After a few minutes, the parasite had released its grip on Hunter and he fell over on the grass, looking completely exhausted and in shock.
Gabe watched the parasite as it formed a puddle, every drop coming together like tiny balls of white mercury being sucked into a black hole. The puddle undulated and rippled, then stood up on end like a groundhog searching for its shadow. Gabe took a few cautious steps back and the white shape slowly melted back into a puddle, then became smaller and smaller as it evaporated.
Once she was sure the creature was gone, Gabe stuck the pistol back into her waist band, walked over to Hunter and gently rolled him onto his side. His dark hair was matted with sweat and his eyes moved under the lids like a dreamer in REM sleep. He groaned and Gabe could hear him softly whisper a name.
“Lisa,” he said.
Gabe knew that Lisa was Hunter’s wife, who was back at the Ford waiting for him.
“Don’t worry, Hunter, you’ll be back with her soon, I guarantee it,” she whispered.
She picked up the shirt Hunter had taken off and covered him with it, sat down on the grass, edged her back against the tree and stared up at the quickly darkening sky.
It was going to be a long night, she thought. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone, punched autodial and waited while the phone rang. Someone picked up.
“I’ve got him,” Gabe said. “We’re in Isham Park.”
“Good,” George Saunders said. “Now all we have to do is wait.”
CHAPTER 67
Lisa knew that something was about to happen because her gut was in knots.
They had finally pulled into New York Harbor and tied up at the pier. Soon hundreds of people had begun coming aboard looking forlorn and destitute. She imagined that they had probably lost everything. Her heart ached for them. Earlier she had seen a small boy and a girl with no shoes walking across the hangar deck, their clothes ragged and dirty, reminding her of children from a third-world country. They looked tired and worn out, like they had been through hell. Their parents looked even worse, the father carrying all they had in the world in a tattered backpack flung over his shoulder. The little girl saw Lisa and smiled shyly. Lisa smiled back.
But in spite of their misery and Lisa’s empathy for them, her first priority was finding her husband. She hoped he was still out there and she knew they would be searching for him and for Lilith and her accomplices.
As she stepped out from between the planes and helicopters, she saw MacIntyre walking across the flight deck and hurried over to catch him.
Mac looked surprised to see her and stopped.
“Ms. Singleton, how are you?” he asked.
She was jolted by his silver eyes, but tried not to show it.
“You can just call me Lisa,” she said.
“And you can call me Mac.”
“Well, Mac, I was wondering if there is going to be a search party going ashore to look for my husband.”
“That was the plan.”
“That’s great, because I want to go.”
She could tell Mac was stunned. Women just didn’t go into combat in the Navy.
“Look, Lisa, I know you want your husband back, but this is a dangerous mission. We’re going after a killer. And there’s no telling what she may do. It’s just not safe.”
Lisa knew they would probably balk at her request and she was ready.
“I understand your concern, Mac, but I’m a trained law-enforcement officer and believe me when I say I’ve been in situations just as dangerous. You’ve got to let me help. Besides, I’m in way over my head and I have a personal stake in this case.”
There was a long pause as Mac seemed to study her.
* * *
Lisa, Phillips, the XO, Johnson and MacIntyre stood around the desk in the CO’s stateroom.
“I’m not really comfortable with this,” Phillips said, eyeing Lisa. “You’re not part of my crew and I can’t take responsibility for a civilian…”
“I’m not a civilian,” Lisa interrupted. “I’m a park ranger and I am trained to use weapons in dangerous situations. If it makes any difference, I’m also a fourth-degree black belt in Kung Fu.”
If Phillips was impressed, he didn’t let on. “I simply can’t take responsibility for your safety.”
Lisa sighed, exasperated by hard-headed men. “Look, captain, if you don’t let me go with the team then I’ll go on my own.”
“If you try it, I’ll be forced to confine you to your quarters, Lisa, a
nd I really don’t want to do that.”
“Dammit, captain, that’s my husband out there. How would you feel if your daughter or your wife was being held hostage by that monster? Would you just stand by and do nothing?”
Phillips shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t.”
Lisa took a deep breath and calmed herself. “Captain, all I’m asking is for you to let me do my job as a trained law enforcement officer. Try to look past the fact that I’m a woman.”
“Your gender has nothing to do with it.”
“Then what does?”
Seconds ticked by. Phillips crossed his arms and seemed as if he was determined not to give in. But he did.
“You will take orders from the Special Ops commander, is that clear? We don’t want any more casualties. And you will use your weapon only when told to do so. Have you ever used a Beretta?”
Lisa nodded. “I carry a Beretta myself. Standard issue.”
Phillips glanced at Johnson. “Issue Ms. Singleton a weapon, a holster and some ammo.”
“Yes sir.”
“Sly—you, Mac, Sammy, Ms. Singleton, Blakely and I will be joining a team that the CIA is sending. I don’t know much about them, except that they’re Special Ops and they’re going to be in charge. We’re going to be there to assist them since we have first-hand knowledge about Lilith and everything that’s been going on. Just do whatever they ask us to do. We’ll meet with them in the Fighting 31 Squadron ready room at 0700 to go over the details.”
Phillips leaned toward Lisa and placed both hands on his desk.
“I don’t think I have to tell you, Lisa, that Lilith is not going to be happy to see you, especially since Hunter is your husband. She is going to want to eliminate the competition.”
“Don’t worry, captain,” she said. “I’m ready for anything that bitch can dish out.”
CHAPTER 68
The light that filtered through his closed eyelids felt to Hunter like someone was banging on his forehead with a sledgehammer. He scrunched his eyes closed more tightly, then slowly let them loosen up until they finally fluttered open.
He lay sideways on the grass in what looked like someone’s front yard or maybe a park. He felt like he had been hit by a truck. He lowered his right arm, put his hand flat on the ground and slowly pushed himself up. The blood drained out of his head and caused some dizziness, filling his vision with little dancing white and blue lights. He sat up on the grass and looked around.
A few yards away were a sidewalk and a park bench, so he was definitely in a park, but where? The last thing he remembered was falling through a rickety pier at the 79th Street Boat Basin and Lilith kissing him while he dangled helplessly in the water. He had to be somewhere in New York, probably still in Manhattan. The park didn’t look big enough to be Central Park unless he was near the outer edge somewhere.
He swiveled around to look behind him and saw a dogwood tree and leaning against it was a beautiful, raven-haired woman in dark sunglasses.
“Hey. I see you’re awake,” the woman said.
Hunter was speechless for nearly a minute as the gears turned in his head, trying to dredge up a name. There was nothing. The woman laughed.
“Don’t worry about trying to remember who I am, Hunter,” she said. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal. You’re lucky—most people don’t usually come out of it this quickly.”
Whoever she was, she had an Australian accent. Hunter repositioned himself in the grass until he was facing her. She wore a lavender short-sleeved shirt and on her upper right arm was a long, red, Chinese dragon tattoo.
“So, you know who I am,” he said. “But I still don’t know who you are, or where I am, or how I got here, or…”
The woman cut Hunter off before he could ask another question.
“Whoa, one question at a time, mate,” she said. “First of all, the name is Gabrielle Lincoln, but everyone calls me Gabe. You’re in northern Manhattan, in a place called Isham Park and you walked here. With a little coercion on my part, I might add.”
Hunter blinked at her. “How long was I out?”
“I wouldn’t say you were out, exactly, just under the influence of one of Lilith’s parasites. It’s been about two days since you first came to us.”
Hunter grimaced. “That’s what I was afraid of. What exactly did I do in that time? Or do I want to know?”
“Not much, really. The group mainly spent time gathering supplies and just biding our time. Nobody was really sure what was going to happen next. My group wasn’t infected with parasites. We were supposedly her loyal followers.” Gabe made quote marks in the air with her fingers at the word “loyal.”
“A lot of them worked with her at the magazine and had gone to some of her protests. But when she tore the place up and then started to mutate, the others were afraid she would kill them and they left. I can’t blame them. She was already psychotic and now she’s not even human. She killed Hendricks and he was a Lilitu, like her. Apparently that’s not enough.”
“So you’re not one of them?”
“CIA,” she said and told Hunter the story of how she had infiltrated the organization. Hunter was impressed with her skills and felt glad that she was on his side.
“Where did all this happen?” he asked.
“We rented an apartment a few blocks from here. But believe me, nobody in the group knew about her overloading the reactor except for Hendricks. Even the crazy ones in the group thought that was over the top. That was one of the reasons they left. She would have fried us along with everyone else in the city.”
“So what happens now?”
Gabe shrugged. “Now, we head back to the ship and let Special Ops handle it from here. They’re probably already in the city.”
“What will they do when they find her?”
“What do you think? They’ll blow her to shit, of course.”
“I don’t think she’ll wait that long.”
“What do you mean?”
Hunter’s mind was racing a mile a minute with scenarios he really didn’t want to consider.
“I mean, she’s not going to just let me walk away. She’s going to come after me. Wherever I go, she’s going to follow. If I go back to the ship, she’s going to follow me there. Lilith isn’t one who just gives up what she believes is hers.”
“That’s a good point. I think I should call in and see what they want us to do.”
“I already know what they’re going to say—‘get the civilian out of harm’s way and let the Special Ops team handle it.’ But the problem with that is she doesn’t care about Special Ops teams. She’ll rip through them like a polar bear in a herd of caribou.”
“I’m open to suggestions,” Gabe said.
“I’m working on it.”
CHAPTER 69
After a hot shower and breakfast in the officer’s mess, Lisa was feeling better. She had gotten over her morning sickness for the time being and even though she was still worried, a lot of praying had boosted her faith that they would find Hunter and bring him back alive. She knew it would take more than firepower to win against Lilith, no matter how many men or weapons they had. But the weight of a nine-millimeter Beretta would still feel good against her torso, like a lucky rabbit’s foot. She hoped she wouldn’t have to use it, but sometimes things didn’t always work out the way you hoped. Lisa had never shot anyone and she certainly didn’t want to start now. But if she had to end up shooting Lilith, she could probably live with that.
Lisa smiled at the thought as she transited down the narrow ship’s passageway on her way aft to the ready room, stepping through doorways and around ogling sailors.
Ready rooms were normally reserved for pilots and their squadron commanders to go over the day’s routine and for pilots to relax and await their turn to launch. But Captain Phillips decided that although this wasn’t an airborne mission, it was still a mission and he needed a good place to meet with the CIA ops team.
Lisa finally arrived at the d
oor with its giant yellow logo featuring Felix the Cat smiling and carrying a bomb in his paws. Along the bottom of the logo in block letters it read, FIGHTING 31. She knocked on the door.
“Come,” a voice said.
Lisa pushed the door open and saw that the room was filled with men she knew and men she didn’t know. It was wall-to-wall testosterone. She sighed and stepped across the threshold. All eyes were on her, a few looking more like leers than stares.
She passed a coffee bar with a popcorn maker where a couple of men in dark civilian clothes watched her walk by. The seats in the ready room were set up like the chairs of a movie theater. Several men craned their necks, quickly assessing her without trying to be too obvious. In front of the room was a dry-erase board and next to that a big-screen TV showing the currently inactive flight deck. Against one wall was a bar with barstools where the pilots could drink and every once in a while maybe get a beer if any was on board.
“Ms. Singleton, glad you could make it,” Phillips said.
The familiar faces of MacIntyre, Blakely, Johnson, Captain Geralds, Sammy and a few others peppered the room. The ones in civilian garb she figured were the Special Ops guys the captain had mentioned the previous night.
Lisa walked to where she saw Mac sitting and took a seat next to him.
“Did you sleep okay?” he whispered.
“Not really,” she whispered back.
* * *
The Special Activities Division of the CIA, an outgrowth of the World War II-era Office of Strategic Services, was one of the legacies of the global war on terror. Created to perform the most difficult operations imaginable, its members have traveled to every corner of the globe, from the Middle East to South America, rescuing hostages, rooting out insurgents, destroying enemy strongholds, disseminating propaganda and even overthrowing governments. The elite of the elite, SAD handpicks its candidates from U.S. Special Forces units like the Navy SEALS and Delta Force, sending them through months of rigorous training and making them experts in everything from espionage and intelligence to small arms and ordinance.