“How’d that work for you?” Malachi asked. Fred narrowed his eyes and didn’t answer.
By the time Xavier was done, we had fourteen real or fake Marshals and inmates in custody. Apex had disabled the one in the guard tower. Hunter was neutralized. Gabriel was talking to Xavier now. Fiona and Parsons were still not happy about the ones we had shot, but they would get over it. Gabriel let out a sound and kicked a table. His foot crunched upon impact and he let out a string of swear words. We all looked at him.
“You,” Gabriel pointed at me. I walked over to him.
“I do not do field dressings, that would be Caleb.”
“No, fucking talk to Xavier.” He thrust the phone at me. Caleb was already moving towards my busted commander.
“What is up?” I asked.
“So, the guy that shot the regional director of Homeland Security was Jeffrey Adams. We worked with him for a short time when we were hunting Nick the Bomber.”
“I do not remember him. I thought we had a different guy, Rollins or something.”
“No, it was Adams that you pretty much kicked off the case.”
“Okay, we will go with that,” I said, still unsure what that had to do with anything.
“He’s the mastermind. He tried ten years ago when he was with the CIA. He wanted to expand the SKMM laws to other agencies. This was his attempt at it.”
“Wow,” I said with little feeling. “How sad. Why did Hunter help?”
“Because he’s been rejected for the SCTU every time he’s applied,” Xavier said. “It gets worse. Daniels’ Security is reporting that when they arrived at our FGN, it was already under attack. All manpower is being redirected there.” I knew exactly why Gabriel had kicked the table.
“How bad?” I asked.
“We don’t know. We are trying to get more information, but the chatter is sporadic at best. You need to take back the Fortress, Ace, and we need to get the hell home. They need us.”
“I say we walk the good guys out of here and bring down the building on top of everyone else. Fuck ’em,” I said.
“Let’s try not to do any more damage to the only super max we have available.” Xavier hung up.
“What?” Malachi asked.
“We need to bring this to an end, like now.” I handed him back his phone.
“Have them bring in reinforcements and we’ll meet them in the sweep,” Parsons suggested.
“There are no reinforcements. FGN 1 is under attack.” I turned to look at her. She paled.
“My husband and kids are at home,” she sat down.
“I hope they got to your safe room,” I told her.
“Just FGN 1?” Malachi asked.
“We don’t know. Daniels’ Security reported it, and there has been little contact with anyone since then. The NSA is trying to contact the other FGNs and FGAs, but it’s like the grid has gone dark. Just about everyone outside is packing up to go there. We need to lock this place down. The only thing coming for us are transports for the killers to go to Leavenworth until a more permanent solution can be found,” Gabriel said.
Malachi snatched his phone and made a call. I knew exactly whom he was calling, but I said nothing. He mentioned just two names: Eric and Patterson Clachan. His speech was clipped. He always sounded that way when he spoke to his family, as if he wasn’t sure what to say to them. Fate had a wicked sense of humor.
“Arm them,” Malachi barked to no one specific when he hung up. “They will be coming with us when we leave.”
“Oh, surely they did not just authorize you to use Eric and Patterson to help take back the FGN?” Fiona said.
“They did,” Malachi said.
“All right, three man teams, we sweep this place, lock up as many as you find. Leave them alive whenever possible.” Gabriel looked from me to Malachi to Caleb. We all nodded. “We fill the cells as much as possible, and then let the transport Marshals come in and get them. They are going to gas the place first, so it should be easy enough for them.”
Thirty-one
Despite being in a better position, it was still all hands on deck. This meant my three-man team was Eric, Patterson, and me. I felt like we needed a babysitter, considering the whole keep them alive thing, but no one else seemed to think so. One or two officers mixed with killers were really all we could afford anyway. Demetrius turned at the bottom of the stairs. His three-man team was himself, Timmons, and Adam the Stabber. He was in pretty good hands. Roberts had agreed to go with Gabriel after we had told him how much Gabriel hated the Alejandro Gui. Gabriel, Roberts, and Parsons were a team. I wasn’t entirely sure how that would balance out, but I had high hopes for Parsons not dying. Fiona had paired with her sister, Bella, and Wright. I trusted it was a good team.
Eric motioned me forward down the hallway. My eyes swept between the cells, looking for any type of movement. It was tedious work. Any misstep could end badly.
“Ahead,” I whispered, dropping to a crouch. Eric and Patterson were suddenly on me. I groaned as I recognized David Lovel. Lovel was a cannibal of the not so nice kind. He preferred to cook his victims alive. If he couldn’t manage a spit for a person, he carved out chunks. Right now, he was trying to start a fire in the hallway. Several bodies around him were groaning, but not running away. It was obvious why our hallway was so empty.
“Maybe we should tell him that some of the cells are on fire in another block,” Eric offered. My stomach growled at the thought. As much as I hated to admit it, roasted human smelled a lot like roasted pork and I had not eaten all day. “Seriously? You’re in here less than a day and cannibalism sounds appetizing?”
“Hey, I did not get to have lunch,” I defended myself very quietly. “Besides, until you smell it, you do not realize that humans smell like roast.”
“She’s right,” Patterson whispered. “I suggest we just shoot this one in the head.”
“We cannot just shoot him in the head while he is trying to prepare a meal. It looks like murder,” I told Patterson.
“That’s absurd; he’s trying to eat people,” Eric scoffed.
“Killers,” I corrected.
“Killers are people too, Aislinn,” Patterson chided me.
“So if he was only trying to roast killers that killed cops, we could walk away, but since it is a variety of killers, we can shoot him in the head?” I asked.
“Yes,” Eric told me.
“That is absurd.” I frowned at my brother. “Besides, he isn’t going to notice a few bullets. He has a metal plate in his head and he is one badass psychopath on a good day. Today has not been a good day, so he will just get pissed off and try to eat us.”
“I didn’t know he had a metal plate,” Eric said.
“I have already shot him in the head before,” I answered. “He seems pretty normal most of the time, and then he started barbecuing homeless people for his neighbors. I did not know he had a metal plate until after I shot him twice. Then he got up and beat the hell out of me with a crowbar. Thankfully, I shot him a few more times and Lucas jumped into the mix. Between the two of us and the bullet wounds, we managed to get him under control.”
“So, put six in his chest and we’ll beat the hell out of him,” Eric suggested. That sounded reasonable and I had to remind myself that my brother was a mass murderer.
“Just follow my lead.” I stood up, held the gun out, and looked down the hall at David Lovel. “Marshal Cain, Mr. Lovel, it is time to return to your cell,” I told him. He looked up at me and frowned.
“I’m getting ready for dinner. They haven’t fed us today,” he said.
“I’m sure once you arrive in Leavenworth, they will feed you,” I told him. Eric made a noise behind me. I didn’t turn around, but I wanted to.
“No, I’m hungry now, Marshal Cain. I will leave when I have had dinner, pinky promise.”
“Look, it has been a really long day, and normally I would not care if you ate them or not, but I have been instructed not to let anyone die. I have a fe
eling when you start cutting parts off for dinner, they are going to bleed to death and I cannot let that happen. So, how about you stand up, we will head back to a cell, and I will be sure to let the transport Marshals know that you have not eaten since breakfast. Deal?” I said.
“No,” David Lovel stood up. I was noticing a trend. Even when they weren’t giants, psychopaths seemed to be bigger than me. Lovel outweighed me by a hundred or so pounds and he was almost a foot and a half taller than I was. I still had a few scars from the crowbar. He was wielding a long piece of metal pipe. It was going to leave marks if it landed any blows.
“Do not move, Lovel, or I will shoot,” I warned.
“How’d that work for you last time, Marshal Cain?” He sneered at my name. It hadn’t been great, obviously we both remembered. I pulled the trigger. Almost instantly, blood spread across his shirt. I fired a few more times, trying to ensure blood loss was a factor, but not a lethal one. Lovel laughed at the fifth shot. I holstered the gun. I might need the ammo later. I drew out my baton. I had not owned it when we met the first time. Eric still had the scimitar and someone had dug up Patterson’s cane. I had no idea who allowed it to stay on site. It was definitely lethal.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. Eric took lead, rushing the bigger man. My brother, who always seemed so large, was short and scary thin next to the well-fed cannibal. The scimitar landed a blow on Lovel’s arm. The pipe swung out, clipping Eric’s shoulder, sending him sprawling across the floor into the group of groaning men. Patterson was already on the big man. My old but slippery grandfather swung the cane like Eric swung the sword. It landed a blow on ribs. The cracking sound was audible. Lovel lashed out, but missed Patterson. I debated for a moment. I could let Patterson do most of the work while I got Eric or I could join him and hope Eric got up on his own. Patterson landed a second blow, the pipe hit him in the leg in the process and he fell to one knee.
The thing about having a metal plate in the head was that the scalp split a lot easier when hit. The skull was hard, but titanium was harder and the scalp was not the strongest skin on the body. I bypassed the front, jumping onto his back and bringing the baton down on top of his head. The skin separated, exposing metal. I drew back and landed a second blow in a different spot. Patterson was getting back on his feet as blood began to gush down David Lovel’s face and neck. Scalp wounds bled almost like arteries.
Patterson landed a blow on Lovel’s chin. The cane caved in the jawbone near where it hinged to his skull. The man teetered and I scrambled to jump off him. He fell forward smashing into the floor. My feet tangled up and I landed next to him.
“Glass jaw,” Patterson tutted, his voice full of disdain. “You’d think a psychopath could take a blow to the face.”
“I do not enjoy fighting with the two of you,” I said as I lay on the floor. Eric was pushing himself up. Patterson offered me a hand.
“Why?” Eric asked, finally standing and rotating his shoulder.
“It is very unsatisfying. Normally, I get to inflict the worst wounds. With you two around, I feel like the fight stops before I have even gotten in a few good blows.”
“You made him bleed,” Patterson pulled on my arm, helping me to my feet.
“You knocked him out,” I told my grandfather.
“You like head and knee shots. I like jaw and rib shots.” Patterson shrugged. “Different fighting styles is all it is.”
“You realize we have to drag all these guys into cells and shut them, right?” I asked.
“Or we could set them all on fire,” Eric suggested.
“Pretty sure that counts as murder,” I told my brother.
“We’ll tell everyone that you protested,” Patterson said.
“Cells,” I said more sternly.
“You are going to be sore as fuck tomorrow,” Eric told me.
“Watch your language,” I scolded him, grabbing a small injured man by the arm and jerking on him.
“Mom isn’t here.”
“No, I hope she is either locked in my panic room or at the hospital with Nyleena. Of course, if she is with Nyleena, my dog is probably dead.” I shut the cell door after I exited it.
“You have a dog?” Eric looked at me, surprised.
“Sort of, Mom and I co-own a dog.”
“How does that work?” Patterson asked.
“Well, since she lives with me, she takes care of Badger when I’m gone. I do what I can when I’m home, but mostly, he likes Mom.”
“Mom lives with you?” Eric said.
“Elle did not tell you?” I gave him a look and grabbed another killer. He was a little heftier than the first and I struggled a little more at moving him.
“No,” Eric said. We did not speak much after that.
Clearing the hallway was enough of a chore. The bigger ones, Eric could move by himself, but Patterson and I had to double-team them. Occasionally, we would hear gunfire or screams, but none of them were voices I recognized. Of course, I wouldn’t recognize everyone that had broken off into teams. I didn’t know them. The hallway was a disaster. I was beginning to think David Lovel had just stumbled across the injured and they had been using it as a sort of dumping ground for the injured to keep the corridors clear for the master plan. I was sweating by the time we finished. My brother and grandfather hadn’t even flushed. Men sucked.
Once our corridor was clear and all the wounded killers locked in cells, we went up a flight of stairs. Demetrius was at the doorway. Timmons and Adam the Stabber were with him. They were taking turns firing into the hallway.
“Need help?” Patterson asked.
“Yes,” Demetrius Lazar answered.
“Watch,” Patterson pulled open the door and rolled into the hallway.
“Does he know some sort of martial art?” I asked Eric. Eric shrugged. “For the record, I will never be that nimble.”
“Me either,” Eric responded, as we watched Patterson move from cell to cell down the hallway. Most of the killers seemed puzzled by his appearance. They didn’t know whether to fire or not. “Ready?”
“Lead the way,” I told my brother. He did. I followed. Timmons, Demetrius, and Adam came with me. I had forgotten Adam’s name already. I would have to try to remember it later when I thanked him.
Thirty-two
My hair was stuck to my head and it had turned a strange color. My face was streaked with blood. My clothes stank. Eric was right. Tomorrow, if I woke up and wasn’t using my superpowers, I was going to hurt, a lot. As it was, I really wanted a shower. I wasn’t sure how much shampoo would be required to get all the blood out of my hair, but I was guessing one bottle wasn’t going to do it. The ponytail holder had broken during the sweep when we were assisting Demetrius Lazar. I had just been slicking it back with bloody hands since then.
“Wow!” Xavier said to me as we exited the prison. Marshals were headed inside. A few brave medics were with them. “You look like you just survived a zombie movie.”
“Someone decided to slit a few throats with me standing near them.” I wrinkled my nose.
“Um, hmm, that sounds, gory,” Xavier said.
“It was,” I agreed. Patterson and Eric were wearing shackles, not that they needed them.
“We should go,” Gabriel looked at me. “I’m not sure whether to put down a trash bag or just burn the SUV after you get out.”
“Burn it,” Xavier and I both said.
“Any news?” I asked.
“FGN 1 isn’t the only one that got hit, but it is taking the worst of it. Three others were also targeted; most of them home to Marshals and FBI agents. The one in Alaska survived the best. The one in LA went up in flames. They are looking for survivors, but so far,” Xavier spread his arms, “ours is still under attack. Daniels’ Security and the police force haven’t done much to make a dent in the attack. The National Guard is being sent, but it could be another two hours.”
“Why aren’t they making progress?” Malachi asked.
�
��Because the killers got in and locked them out,” Xavier said it very fast.
“I do not suppose you know where my mom is?” I asked.
“She was inside the FGN. So are Lucas, Trevor, Elle, Cassie, and Nyleena.” Xavier looked at the ground. “With the attack on the federal buildings this morning, the contract on Lucas just disappeared. They were ferried home while you guys were inside. Lucas was supposed to come here, but he didn’t make it out before they stormed the place. Zeke Laroche is reporting that it looks like some sort of paramilitary style attack.”
“I’m going to need a lot more soap,” I said to no one special. I was going to make every bad guy I came across suffer.
“It gets worse,” Xavier looked at Malachi. “Peter McCabe is inside FGN 1.”
Malachi’s expression didn’t change. He pulled out a pack of crushed and somewhat bloodied cigarettes and took one out. He lit it and handed it to me. I took it, while watching him. He lit a second and handed it to Gabriel. My team leader did the same. Caleb decided to light his own cigarette. Malachi lit a final one and took a long drag off it before he would look at Xavier.
“Explains why I got permission to use Eric and Patterson in our attempt to retake the FGN,” Malachi finally spoke.
“Malachi, Peter is capable,” I told him.
“Yes, he is. He is definitely out of his league though,” Malachi responded. Malachi had very few real friends. For him, having a friend was the equivalent of the heavens opening and God himself coming down to have a chat. Caleb and I were on the list. Peter McCabe was the only other person on it though. Peter was Malachi’s stepbrother. He also worked for the Department of Justice in some covert job that couldn’t be talked about with clearance much higher than I would ever have. I had a suspicion he served on the board that governed the SCTU since we needed more than one overseer, but had no proof. However, if he was, it explained a lot. Malachi cared about Peter more than he did his flesh and blood brothers. I considered the things I was going to do were nothing compared to what Malachi was bringing with him.
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