“Down here,” he said over his shoulder as Briana emerged from the stairwell. He withdrew the Glock from his waistband and shoved the door open.
An older woman dressed in a lab coat was slumped against the wall to his right, arms limp at her sides. Her pepper gray hair hung in loose tangles over her face. The light through the frosted window over her head wreathed her in a ghostly, white light. A slender hypodermic needle hung loose in her fingers, the plunger shoved all the way in. Her face was in deep shadow, eyes like bottomless wells. Dante thought she was unconscious until her head lifted and she blinked, the wells shimmering as if loose rocks had fallen in. Her head turned and Dante followed her gaze across the room.
Abigail lay on a cot crowded by medical machines, their myriad displays and monitoring screens dark. Her skin was a deathly pale, the ruddy glow in her cheeks extinguished. Dante took a tentative step toward her then halted. She looked so small, lying at the foot of those inert devices that stood over her like a copse of dead trees.
“Abigail,” Dante said, his voice a harsh whisper. She didn’t move.
He turned and raised the gun, aiming at the woman slumped against the wall, the hypodermic glinting in the dim light. She pushed herself up straighter with a grunt, the tangles of her hair parting to reveal a soft featured face with sad, haunted eyes.
“She should be awake any moment,” the woman in the lab coat said.
“What?” Dante lowered the gun, arm shaking.
“They told me to kill her. To save my Joshua,” she said before her mouth clamped shut. Tears streaked her face as she flung the needle away and buried her face in her hands.
“Daddy?”
Dante whirled, heart thundering in his ears. He wasn’t sure if he’d actually heard anything. Briana stood in the doorway, her face a mask of shock. He shoved the gun into his pocket and hurried over, pushing machines away before kneeling down next to the cot. Abigail lay motionless, her eyes closed. He took one of her small hands in his and squeezed.
It was warm.
Abigail’s face scrunched up and she groaned, smacking her lips a few times before sticking her tongue out. “Yuck.”
“Abigail?” Dante said, barely breathing.
Her eyes opened and she blinked, gazing around blearily before focusing on his face.
“Daddy?” she said, eyes widening. “I had the worst nightmare.”
“It’s over now baby, I promise,” Dante said, pulling her into his arms. “It’s over.”
CHAPTER 93
Plan B
Dante lifted Abigail from the bed and laid her head against his shoulder. She hung limp against him, her body shivering. Briana tugged the blanket off the bed and draped it over her small body.
“Skylar,” Briana said, “We’re heading back.”
No answer. Her eyes darted to Dante. He shook his head. The phone rang and Briana connected.
“We’ve been cut off,” Skylar said, voice clearer now. “Dark Messiah is making its counter move. Get to the roof.”
“The roof? What the hell are you talking about?” Dante said.
“Now.”
Dante hefted Abigail into a more comfortable position on his shoulder and followed Briana to the door. Pausing, he turned back.
“What’s your name?”
“Dr. Chapman,” the woman in the lab coat said. “Meryl.”
“Thank you, Meryl.”
Her eyes found his.
“Go,” she said. “Take care of that little girl.”
CHAPTER 94
Rooftop
As they entered the stairwell, the thunder of booted feet echoed up from below. Dante peeked over the edge and saw dark shapes gliding around the turns. One halted and glanced up. The dim shape of a skull stared back at him. A shot rang out and Dante jerked back as the bullet struck the bottom of the stairs above them, sending chunks of plaster raining down.
“Go!” Dante said.
Briana ran up the stairs first, hugging the wall, Dante with his precious bundle close behind. The door banged open as they burst out onto the roof. The clouds overhead loomed close, painted a rusty orange by sodium arc streetlights that still burned farther off in the city. Briana slammed the door shut and a bolt locked into place.
Hurrying over, they ducked down behind a large air conditioning unit caked with rust near the roof’s edge. Voices drifted up from people milling below, waiting for the power to come back on.
“Okay, Skylar,” Dante said, kneeling down and pulling the blanket tighter around Abigail. “What now.”
Screams rose up, drowned out by the screech of tires. Light flared up as a thunderous crash boomed, causing windows to shimmer on nearby buildings. A column of thick black smoke boiled up and drifted over the roof. Dante laid Abigail down and glanced over the edge, nose wrinkling at the reek of burning plastic.
A flaming pileup of vehicles choked the street below, shadows dancing as people fled the surging flames. Soft shapes hitched among the twisted steel before shuddering to halt. At least two of the vehicles were white with orange stripes, their fractured hulls charring rapidly to an inky black.
“Oh my god,” Briana said.
The door rattled behind them as the incessant pounding of fists and booted feet thundered against it.
“Get ready,” Skylar said. “We need to get you off this roof.”
Their eyes widened as a loud whine erupted above their heads. Dante scooped Abigail up and stumbled back, cowering as a large object dropped down from above before slowing to a hover.
It was one of Skylar’s mega drones, its matte black body dark against the sky. The chop of its spinning blades was deafening, drowning out the chaos from below.
“Stick a foot in,” Skylar said, voice booming from the drone. Two thick black straps unfurled from the drone’s underside, a loop at the bottom of each one. “And hold on!”
“Are you crazy?” Briana asked, her voice shrill.
“We’re out of options,” Skylar said. “Now grab on tight and don’t let go!”
“Hold around my neck,” Dante said to Abigail. She nodded sleepily and he was thankful she was still out of it. He scuttled over under the drone, the downdraft drying the sweat on his body. Briana crouched against the air conditioner, eyes wide and unblinking.
“Come on,” Dante said. “We have to go!”
She shook her head, hair whipping wildly across her face.
The stairwell door exploded outward, flying straight across the roof before crashing into the air conditioner with a loud crunch. Briana jerked at the sound then scuttled over and clutched the strap as she slid a foot into the loop. Her whole body shook.
“Hold on,” Skylar said.
Dante tightened his grip on the strap as the blades whined, pulling the drone straight up. Shots rang out as the militiamen emerged from the open doorway. The drone plunged below the edge of the building, fire and smoke swirling in the chop as they swooped down over the wreckage below. Briana shrieked as they swept past a palm tree, the fronds scraping across her body. People on the street ducked down, eyes wide. The blades wailed as the drone lifted them up again, over the edge of a two-story brown marble building before dropping again. The drone bounced on its skids as it landed hard on the roof, sending Briana tumbling to the concrete. She landed on her shoulder and rolled before lying very still. Dante hugged Abigail close as he ran over to Briana. The SAT phone was still clamped in her fingers.
“Everyone okay?” Skylar said, his voice muffled.
Dante placed a hand on Briana’s shoulder and her eyelids flickered. She moaned and pulled her arms and legs in close to her body. Dante slipped the phone from her hand.
“What the fuck happened?”
“Drone was hit.”
Dante glanced over and saw one of the props slow to a wobbly halt. Most of the blades were missing, the edges ragged.
“It can fly with three props but its capacity is severely limited. I can only evacuate one of you.”
“No way,” Dante said. �
�That thing almost killed us.”
“You have about three minutes until Dark Messiah’s militia are all over you. Let me get Abigail out of there.”
A rescue litter lowered from the bottom of the drone. Its thin wireframe mesh was painted a matte black. Dante stared at the camera bubble on the underside of the drone and shook his head.
He flinched as gun shots echoed out nearby.
Dante’s insides felt loose and watery as he carried Abigail back over. He placed her inside the rescue litter and kissed her forehead.
“It’s okay, Abigail. You’re just going for a quick ride. I’ll see you soon.”
She nodded, eyes still sleepy from the drugs and he fought back the tears that threatened to spill over. Dante stood back and watched as the drone lifted slowly upward, the damaged propeller snapping back and forth, useless. It rose into the sky before it shrank and disappeared. He tore his eyes away and jogged over to Briana. She was sitting up now, blood seeping from her nostrils.
“What happened,” she said. Her eyes focused. “Where’s Abigail?”
“The drone took her. She’s safe.” He put out a hand and she grasped it. “But we got to move.”
CHAPTER 95
SWAT
Briana let herself be pulled to her feet by Dante, her head still thudding from the hard landing. Following Dante across the rooftop parking area, she glanced around. A ramp nearby led down to the street. Sirens wailed, coming closer. No sight of the militiamen.
Yet.
Briana wiped her nose with the back of her arm, leaving behind a bright streak of crimson. Dante led her over to the stairs at the far corner, weaving through the few cars parked there. At the bottom, they hunkered down behind a low wall topped with neatly trimmed shrubs. She peered over the top, eyes scanning, as Dante did the same.
Wilshire was gridlocked with vehicles, some trying to back up and turn around, while others began to peel off onto the cross street. People leaned on their horns or screamed out their windows at each other. The fire from crash continued to burn, out of control.
“The car is just two streets over,” Dante said, “Let’s go.”
They ran into the street, keeping low behind cars. As they weaved behind a white panel van the chatter of gunfire rang out and the rear windows exploded. The driver of the van shifted into reverse and pinned the accelerator in a panic. Briana shoved Dante and they dove out of the way to the sidewalk.
The van rode up the nose of a Lamborghini and sailed through the air in a half spin before crashing down with the shriek metal and shattering glass. Squealing tires cut through the fear charged air as people fled, some speeding away while others jumped from their cars and ran.
A six-wheeled SWAT vehicle lumbered down Wilshire, shoving cars from its path as it maneuvered closer. Gunfire ripped through the air, snapping by overhead. Bullets struck the SWAT vehicle with flat smacking sounds and it skidded to a halt, air brakes hissing.
Briana stayed close behind Dante as they raced over to a nearby building. The front doors were boarded up so Dante slipped his fingers under the edge and tugged. Briana pushed in next to him and they struggled, lifting the corner, the plywood bending until it broke with a crack. Shattered glass covered the bare floors inside.
“Get inside,” Dante said. “Careful of the glass.”
Briana scooted in, glass tinkling underfoot. Dante followed. Dim light washed down from a bay of windows high above. Rows of hulking, industrial sized washing machines squatted in even rows, the mouths of their corroded drums yawning wide. The floor was cracked, weathered tile below a high ceiling lined with rusty pipes. Briana moved through the musty smell of moldering clothes, following the beam of a small flashlight she’d pulled from her pocket and flicked on. Whipping the light back, she made sure Dante was close behind her as they moved deeper inside.
Glass crunched behind them and they froze. Briana flicked the light off and hunkered down behind one of the large machines, Dante scooting in next to her.
“I know you’re in here,” called out a muffled voice.
Briana tensed, eyes going wide for a moment.
“If we wanted to kill you, you’d be dead,” the voice continued. “Dark Messiah just wants to talk.”
Loose tile crunched under booted feet. A flashlight speared through the room, it’s bluish light throwing crazy shadows as the militiaman edged closer.
Briana began to tremble, hugging herself tightly. From outside, a tinny voice boomed out from a loudspeaker, ordering the militiamen to drop their weapons. Gunfire chattered in reply. Dante slipped the Glock from his waistband.
“I have to say, I was surprised when I heard you were part of this,” said the voice, closer now. “Briana.”
She bit her lip, thoughts crashing together as Dante glanced sharply at her. He grabbed her shoulder but her eyes remained blank, locked somewhere faraway.
The light came closer, spearing between industrial washers as it continued its steady approach. “That was a hot video. Wasn’t surprised to see you macking on that other chick though. I always figured you for a part-time box muncher.”
Briana squeezed her eyes shut and clamped both her hands over her ears. Her stomach turned and she felt her gorge rise.
There was a whisper of fabric and the voice became clearer. “It’s me, Mark. I forgive you. No need to run anymore.”
Her jaw clicked as her teeth ground together, cutting her lip. The taste of blood filled her mouth as taunts and jeers crowded in from a night not long ago when she’d come home to Mark and his militia buddies in her apartment, empty beer cans stacked high on the table.
The footsteps were close, moving faster now. Mark was almost on top of them and she saw Dante lift the gun, readying himself to shoot.
“Besides,” Mark said, “my team wants another round of blowjobs.”
Something inside her broke and sloughed away, taking the shame and fear with it. She spat blood on the tile and rose to her feet.
“Give it here,” Briana said, holding her hand out. It was rock steady, her eyes flat. She felt the gun ease into her hand. It swung up in a smooth arc as Mark appeared around the edge of the washer. His light flicked up to her eyes. Over the glare, she saw the sneer on his face melt away, jaw falling slack as he registered the gun in her hand. He raised his own pistol, finger sliding onto the trigger.
A blinding flash erupted.
Her ears rang even though she hadn’t heard the gun fire. The dark silhouette of Mark reappeared in her eye as the bright afterimage of the blast faded away.
His face was gone.
The Glock dropped from her hand with a clatter and she screamed. Mark’s lifeless body slumped to the floor, flashlight spinning away. His right hand still clutched his pistol, faint blue smoke drifted up from the muzzle. Blood jetted from the ragged crater where his face used to be, spreading outward in black lines as it flowed around the old tiles.
Briana fell to her knees, sobbing. She reached out to touch his shoulder then jerked away as his blood crept closer to her knee.
A cold awareness spread through her, chilling her to her core. After what she’d just done, she could never go home ever again.
Dante retrieved the Glock from the floor then slipped an arm around her waist and helped her stumble the rest of the way to the back door.
CHAPTER 96
712 Figueroa
Dante and Briana crossed Figueroa at a break in the traffic, leaving the Porsche at a lot a few blocks up. She’d been quiet on the ride back over, speaking only once to let Skylar know they were on their way. Police cruisers continued to sweep past them toward the flaming wreckage in front of Good Sam hospital, but the gunfire had died away.
“I hope they kill them all,” Briana said, staring out the window.
Dante remained silent. His thoughts were focused on getting to Abigail. He reached his left hand down and felt the reassuring solidity of the elephant pendant in his pocket.
As they neared, the white door at 712 Figuero
a opened and Dante rushed inside.
“Abigail!” he called out, voice echoing. There was no answer, the long, empty hallway stretched out before him.
“Give me the phone,” Dante said. Briana handed it over, concern creeping into her expression. The door at the end of the hall opened and Skylar stepped through. The haunted light in his eyes told Dante everything he needed to know.
“She’s not here.”
“Dark Messiah got control of the drone,” Skylar said. “We don’t know how.”
“Fuck!” Dante screamed, the word trailing out until his throat felt like he’d swallowed glass. He dropped to his knees. “Oh my God,” he said, face buried in his hands.
“What happened?” Briana said.
Skylar took a step forward. “We should be able to track it…find out where it went.”
Dante glared up at Skylar. The small man stopped, face tightening into a frown.
“Stay the fuck away from me.” Rising slowly to his feet, Dante closed his eyes, let out a shuddering breath, then turned and strode past Briana back outside.
Skylar ran to catch up. “Where are you going?”
Ignoring him, Dante stepped back out into the night air and stared across the street, the passing headlights streaking across his vision. He turned and spoke over his shoulder. “If you want to make this right, then I need you to back me up, no matter what I ask for.”
“Anything,” Skylar said.
Dante pulled his phone out of his pocket and tore the foil off, flinging it to the sidewalk. The screen changed, showing an active call. He put the phone to his ear.
“Dark Messiah,” Dante said, his voice hard.
No answer. Dante saw the seconds ticking by on the screen out of the corner of his eye.
“I’ll do it. Understand? Just like how you said. Gun to my head, you can broadcast it live, whatever. I just want Abigail safe again, then I’ll give you what you want, do you hear me? My life for hers.”
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