by J. P. Castle
The Professor joined them from the kitchen. “That is precisely why he hadn’t shared the information with you yet, Bastian. But your keen insight tells me you are definitely ready now. The stew is on. I made soup, salad, and sandwiches. I would’ve planned a better meal, but I didn’t know I was going to have company today. You all are welcomed to stay the night. I have plenty of room here.”
“Thank you, Professor. We definitely would appreciate a sound night’s sleep,” said Bastian.
“You can stop calling me professor, Bastian. We’re family. My name is John. Now let me go check the stew,” he said.
John prepared a wonderful stew full of beef and hearty vegetables. The sandwiches, along with the cobb salad, topped the meal off.
“I can’t thank you enough. You’ve explained things to me I never would’ve known, offered your home, and fed us,” said Bastian.
The others all agreed. They, too, thanked John for his hospitality.
“I don’t mind. An old man doesn’t get much company these days. It’s a shame it wasn’t under different circumstances. I want you to . . .” John stopped mid-sentence. He adjusted his glasses to read a message on his wrist-unit, shoved his chair back, and jumped up from the kitchen table.
“There is ABSOLUTELY no time to explain. Pick up anything at all you carried in with you. HURRY! Throw these dishes in the dishwasher food and all. The kettle, the bowls, EVERYTHING, or they’ll realize someone ate here with me. Atticus just text me. Soldiers are on the way here. MOVE with the dishes,” John said, launching the leftover stew into the dishwasher.
Glassware shattered, landing randomly inside; there was no time to care about that.
“Bastian, what are we gonna do,” said Ledger.
Rani’s face turned pale.
“You’re gonna follow me right now,” said John.
The four followed John through his house, he got on well for a seventy-year-old man. They all rushed down a flight of stairs.
“Respectfully, I don’t want to get trapped in a basement,” said Bastian.
“Trust me. Right now, this is your only hope. You’re going into my secret room. It’s secure. No matter what you hear or observe—DO NOT come out. The only person in the entire world that knows about this room is me. I built it twenty years ago. Atticus tried to get me to join him last week at the compound, but I’m too old to start a new life. I’m a worn-out old man. I’ve lived a blessed life.
“I knew government slugs would be on their way. I didn’t think it would be this soon. Last week I sent a slew of secret files I received from Atticus to the Marksmen Monkeys, as I regularly do. My memory slipped, and I forgot to bounce my signal out of Thailand. I was hoping I wiped the server fast enough. Now you can surely comprehend how serious the government is about this group. There’s simply no other reason they’d be here.”
John opened a closet door, slid back some coats, removed a panel, and punched in a code. A metal door opened.
Bastian entered, followed by the rest.
“Code’s 1492, the year Columbus sailed the ocean blue. Good luck to you, Bastian,” said John, closing the door, he replaced the panel, repositioned the coats, and slid the closet shut.
Bastian put his fist on the door. “I wanted to talk to him more,” he said in a low tone.
John hurried up the staircase, throwing his wrist-unit into a heating vent along the way. He removed a caplet and a gun from the nightstand in the bedroom.
“What’s he doing?” said Bastian.
The group anxiously watched John’s every move on the monitors he’d placed in the secret room. Cameras covered the entire house.
“Surely he’s not going to try to fight them,” said Ledger.
Troian stood beside him with her hand over her mouth.
John unlocked the front door, then sat down in his recliner.
Soldiers pulled into the drive; moments later, they rung the bell.
“Come in, doors open,” yelled John.
Soldiers barged into John’s house.
Rani clutched Bastian’s arm. No one in the hidden basement room said a word, merely watched, fearing for John.
“Oh,” said John, “I thought you were my neighbor.”
“Nope, not a social call, John,” said the soldier. “You know why we’re here.”
“No, I don’t, but I did hear some news about a vaccine. Did you come to give it to me?”
The soldier grasped the patch of white hair, remaining on top of John’s scalp, and pulled his head tightly against the back of the chair. “We can do this one of two ways. Now, I’m going to ask you one time. Where did you get the files you sent? The ones the Marksmen Monkeys now have.”
“What files?”
The soldier still had John’s head pressed into the chair. “The computer I.P. address pinged from this residence. Don’t deny it, and stop playing stupid. Who sent those files to you?”
John had enough of this steroid filled punk—real quick.
“You shouldn’t treat your elders in this manner,” said John, pulling a nine-millimeter handgun from beneath his leg. He fired a single shot. The bullet bored a hole directly between the soldier’s eyes. The man died before his body landed on John’s braided rug.
John squeezed the trigger again—between haste and age, he’d aimed a little low—striking the second soldier in his windpipe. “You should always treat your elders with full respect. And DON’T underestimate old people with guns.” John glared down at the soldiers on the floor. “I always loved that rug. Now, you’ve gone and ruined it,” he said.
The soldier grasped at his throat, still choking on his own blood.
“DANG MAN, did you see that?” said Ledger, in awe of the old-timer’s skills.
“It’s not over yet,” said Bastian. “I doubt they’re alone.”
Two more soldiers busted through the front door.
“Secure the old man,” said the Lieutenant. “Okay boss, you’ve had your fun. Those were good men. Playtime’s over.”
The subordinate soldier pushed John back down in his chair.
“Don’t kill him, we need answers. Go get the serum,” said the Lieutenant. “We can’t beat an old man. At his age, he won’t last.”
“What’s John doing?” said Bastian. “With his hand . . .”
“I’m not sure,” said Ledger.
The soldier came back into the house with a case. He opened it up and filled a syringe half full of some clear substance.
“Okay, John, truth time. I need you to tell me who gave you the files you sent to the Marksmen Monkeys last week,” said the Lieutenant.
John refused to talk, no way he’d give up Atticus.
The soldier rolled up John’s sleeve and administered the injection.
John rolled his head back, “Weeeeee,” he grinned at the soldiers, throwing both legs up like he’d boarded a carnival ride.
“Now, let the drug work. Nice ‘n easy old man. All happy land from here,” said the Lieutenant.
“Oooh yeah,” said John. His head lulled back and forth. “I can feel it alright. I’m on my way, Leslie. Meet me at the gates.”
John’s whole body started shaking.
“What’s happening here? You idiot! Did you give him too much?”
“No, Lieutenant. I did NOT give him too much. I’m not sure what’s going on.”
John slid out of the chair, into the floor, and convulsed violently. White foam filled his mouth while his body continued to spasm. Twenty seconds later, he quieted. Blankness replaced the animation in his eyes.
“They killed him,” said Rani.
“No,” said Bastian, “He put something in his mouth seconds before they gave him the shot. No way he would’ve given up Atticus.”
“At least he took two of them down with him,” said Ledger.
“Yeah, good for him,” said Troian.
“That son of a gun,” said the Lieutenant. “Cyanide. Resembles Cyanide poisoning. He must’ve had a pill hidden somewh
ere. Perfect, just perfect, load up these bodies. Check his office for paperwork, though I doubt he’d have left any. We’ve already backdoored his computer, it’s clean, leave it. Also, check the secret room downstairs. The one agent Chris found by accident last week. When he found it, John was on his way home. Chris didn’t have time to decipher the code and examine the room.”
“Did you hear what he said? They’re coming down here,” said Rani.
“What the . . . what are we gonna do?” said Ledger. “Can’t sneak out, they’ll hear us, and there’s nowhere to hide.”
“We’re gonna wait,” said Bastian.
The soldiers briefed over John’s office to find nothing. They loaded the bodies, along with the rug. By the time they’d finished, the residence appeared undisturbed.
“How many bullets are in your weapon?” said Bastian.
“Full,” said Ledger.
“Rani, you and Troian step back and be quiet,” said Bastian.
With tense bodies, the girls stood in the corner, watching the soldiers climb down the stairs. Bastian and Ledger turned from the monitors, aiming their weapons directly at the door.
“This is it, man. Aim for the head. They’ve got bulletproof vests on,” said Bastian.
Troian’s heart nearly thumped through her chest. Huddled together, Rani held Troian’s hand, momentarily forgetting the animosity between them.
The soldiers dug through the closet to reach the door but didn’t have the code.
“I’m not gonna spend all day on this, go get a small charge of C4,” said the soldier.
“They’re gonna blow the lock, what now?” said Ledger.
“We’ll shield the girls; the charge won’t penetrate the room—I don’t think. They wouldn’t want to destroy evidence, right? As soon as you make out the silhouette of a face, fire. It’s our only chance.”
“Bastian, I can’t do this. We’re trapped in here. We’re gonna die—be blown to bits. They’re gonna kill us,” said Rani in a momentary craze.
Everyone turned to focus on her.
“WHAT?” snapped Rani.
The soldiers returned and puttied a small charge onto the door. “Back up, dude, this shit ain’t no joke.”
Bastian and Ledger put their arms around the girls, keeping their backs toward the metal door as a shield.
“Get ready, stay behind me ‘n Bastian,” said Ledger into Troian’s ear.
“Could the blast kill us?” said Troian, squeezing her eyes closed.
“I seriously have no idea,” said Ledger, pressing tight to her.
The soldiers climbed up to the top of the staircase. BOOM!
The detonated charge shook the room, deafening everyone’s ears. Hunks of drywall fell from overhead. Choking smoke, dust, and bits of debris filled the air. Bastian and Ledger turned to stand side by side, guns pointed.
“We made short work of that,” said the first soldier entering the room. He waved his hand to clear the cloud of smoke. His buddy stood directly behind him.
A bullet from Bastian’s gun dropped the first soldier in his tracks. Ledger fired the second round, striking the other man in the face.
“Girls, take their guns, don’t ask questions, hurry,” said Bastian in an adrenaline-filled tone.
Troian and Rani acted without question. Fear flooded their bodies.
“What’s going on down there?” bellowed the Lieutenant from the living room.
The four looked at each other. Bastian gave the ‘shhh’ quiet gesture.
“This is LT 124. Send units to the Professor’s residence. I believe we have multiple unfriendlies inside, repeat multiple unfriendlies inside.”
Bastian and Ledger tiptoed over to the edge of the staircase. He gestured Ledger to go for the Lieutenant’s feet. Ledger acknowledged.
Footsteps crept down the stairs, one by one, stopping mid-way. The Lieutenant fired a single shot into the basement, which caused Rani to let out a small scream. “I’m not asking again. Who’s down there?” he said.
“Just me,” Rani blurted out, “cleaning lady.”
“Where are my men?”
“Two men are lying here on the floor. I came in after I heard a big boom. I was cleaning the patio out back.”
“Show yourself.”
Rani pocketed the items she’d taken and stepped into view.
The Lieutenant summed her threat level to be zero, turning his thoughts back to his men. Either the Professor set a trap, or the dummies knocked themselves out with too powerful of a charge. “Good grief,” he said, stomping the rest of the way down the stairs, “what kind of idiots do I command? Don’t they train anybody anymore.”
Bastian caught a flash of the uniform and laid hold of the Lieutenant’s shirt, causing him to miss the last step. Ledger latched his arms around the man’s lower extremities.
This Lieutenant had seen plenty of combat in his time. Hand to hand, knife to knife, gun to gun. He tossed Bastian off to the side like a pair of dirty socks, then punched Ledger in the back twice.
“Ugh,” said Ledger, losing his grip on the Lieutenant’s legs.
The Lieutenant sprung to his feet, meeting Bastian face-to-face. He threw Bastian, again, leaving a body-sized dent in the drywall. Ledger leaped aboard the Lieutenant’s back, while his friend regained his breath.
Rani and Troian traded looks of desperation.
“What do we do?” said Rani.
The guys had their hands full with this seasoned bull. The powerful Lieutenant even talked while fighting the young men. “Oh, you’re that Bastian kid. This is my lucky day, boy. Some folks want a word with you.”
Troian, with opportunity, snatched the man’s sidearm from his holster. She fell backward onto the hardwood floor with the gun still in her hand. The Lieutenant pounded the air out of Bastian, turned, and tossed Ledger onto a glass coffee table.
Nothing they did phased the hardened fellow. With both of his opponents down, the Lieutenant reached for his missing weapon. He charged Troian to retrieve what he deemed his.
BOOM.
Time stopped.
The Lieutenant’s legs of steel collapsed. He fell, grasping his thigh.
Rani froze in the corner with her hands over her mouth.
Bastian raised his body up to see Troian poised like a statue—smoke rising from the Lieutenant’s gun. The Lieutenant hammered his fist down on the floor; he slid over to the wall and propped himself up.
“They’re gonna light this place up in a minute,” he said.
“Yeah,” said Bastian, “and you’re gonna be the only one in it.” Bastian took the gun from Troian’s hand, a final shot rang out. The Lieutenant joined his fallen comrades.
Bastian darted into the secret room and destroyed the electronic surveillance system. “They can’t know we’ve been here. MOVE it, we gotta get out of here.”
Ledger slung two military assault rifles across his back. They all fled up the stairs toward the front door.
“It’s dark outside now. No one can really see us,” said Bastian. “Come on.”
They zipped down the eerily quiet street in pairs. Every yard boasted an iron fence, leaving no easy cover to duck into and hide. Military trucks blew past them one block away from John’s house, failing to notice the weapons Ledger carried.
“Hurry, they’ll be on us in a hot second,” said Ledger. “No one else is out for a late evening stroll. That alone makes us appear odd.”
“Yes, it’s mighty quiet out here,” said Troian.
“Everyone’s holed up in fear of this sickness,” said Bastian.
Their vehicles sat ten feet away—home free until truck tires squealed backward out of John’s driveway.
“HURRY,” said Troian, accidentally jumping in with Bastian. Rani rode shotgun with Ledger. With no time to think, no one cared who rode with who. The boys sped away into the night—no direction in mind.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Mama's Boy
BASTIAN AND TROIAN sped off to the le
ft; Ledger and Rani turned right. The military Hummer made a hard right to follow the latter.
Ledger floored the vehicle, turning it on two wheels as he rounded the next street corner . . . no idea where the roads led. Rani clung to the door handle. The Hummer, in hot pursuit, tried to blind Ledger with high laser lights, beaming them into the rearview mirror.
Ledger flipped the mirror up.
“What are we gonna do?” said Rani. “Do you want me to shoot at ‘em?”
“Hell no, if you accidentally kill an innocent person, we’re doomed for sure. Probably are already. What’s that interstate sign say?”
“Manchester half a mile ahead.”
Ledger mashed his foot down again, burying the tachometer on the SUV, hoping the engine held under the intense pressure. He bobbed and weaved through traffic with the Hummer hanging tight on their tale.
“Do you want me to throw this at them?” said Rani.
Ledger nearly wrecked the vehicle in the ditch when he realized what she had.
“Shit Rani, where’d you get that?”
“Back there at John’s house. Bastian said, grab something, so I did.”
“He said grab guns, not grenades. How many do you have?”
“Two, I took them from the dead man’s belt.”
Ledger careened down the exit ramp; once again, the right-side wheels left the pavement. He blew through a stop sign and made a hard right into downtown, clearing a stoplight still on red.
The Hummer was not so lucky in the intersection. Cars swerved to miss the heavy vehicle; one small sedan collided into the rear quarter panel. The soldiers didn’t slow down, they rammed right on through the mess.
Ledger made a hard left into an alley where he thought no pedestrians would be. The Hummer followed, adjusting the turret on top of the rig, preparing to fire.
“Do you know how to pull the pin out of that grenade, Rani?”
“This thing?” she said, pointing to the pin in the handle.
“Yes, roll down the window. Pull the pin and throw it behind us. Don’t hesitate, or it’ll blow up in your hand.”
“Okay,” said Rani. She took a deep breath, leaned out the window, pulled the pin, and tossed the grenade in the center of the alley. It rolled right under the front end of the Hummer.