Apocalyptic Visions Super Boxset (96 page)

The guard blocked a left hook from Sarah and countered with an uppercut that sent her backward and to the floor. With Sarah on her back, the guard swung his rifle toward her, poised to squeeze the trigger. Sarah looked to her right and saw the blade on the ground. She grabbed it and flung it at the guard’s throat, which sent a brilliant spray of crimson through the air as he dropped the rifle and collapsed to his knees. Sarah pushed herself off the floor, picked up one of the assault rifles, and checked the small sliver of window in the door that allowed her to see inside the rest of the floor.

The fluorescent lights were on, but she couldn’t see any more men in the hallway. She felt something grip her ankle, and she looked down at the man bleeding out on the ground. She kicked his clawing hand away. “Your neediness is why this could have never worked out.”

Inside, a large floor filled with a vast sea of cubicles spread out before her. She kept low, using the makeshift walls as cover, weaving in and out of the empty desks. Larger offices surrounded the perimeter, but everything was empty. She stopped at the end of the row of desks, just before the room opened up into another hallway. When she poked her head around the corner, she could see another cluster of guards in front of a large office door, where a woman sat at a desk, going about her work as if they weren’t even there.

“The signal’s coming from that office,” Bryce said.

One of the guards pulled out his radio. “Mark 1, radio check.” Sarah ducked behind the wall and ejected the rifle’s magazine to count the number of rounds. The guard radioed again. “Mark 1, radio check.” Again, nothing but silence as Sarah shoved the fully loaded, thirty-round magazine back into place. “You two, go and check it out.”

Footsteps thumped down the hallway, and Sarah aimed the gun into the wall across from her. The steps grew louder as the gear around their chests and waists clunked from their heavy-booted footfalls. She placed her finger on the trigger, listening to the sounds grow closer, closer, closer, and the moment the two crossed her path, she put a bullet into each of their heads.

The adjacent wall was redecorated with dripping bits of brain, blood, and bones as the guards collapsed to the ground, and their comrades immediately fired blindly into the empty hallway until their commander ordered them to stop. The hallway between Sarah’s location and the front doors of the office the signal was coming from was at least seventy feet long and six feet wide, with five guards still positioned at the other end. She could take out three from this distance, but not five, not in that narrow a kill box.

“Bryce, I need another way in,” Sarah said.

“Working on it.”

The ceiling above her was solid concrete, and the air vents were too narrow for her to squeeze through. The shouts at the end of the hall were getting more restless and then suddenly went quiet. Sarah cocked her head to the side when two thuds hit the floor of the hallway next to her and two grenades rolled past. “Bryce, another way in now would be nice.” Sarah sprinted down the row of offices and made it twenty feet before the grenades went off, sending a blast wave that knocked her off her feet and destroyed the windows as well as the corner office she was hiding behind.

Sarah lay on her stomach against the hard carpet and instinctively reached for the rifle that had been flung from her hand. She coughed and hacked from the smoke and dust flitting through the air. She stumbled on her hands and knees, knowing that the guards at the end of the hallway would make a full press toward her now. And just as she pointed the rifle at the mangled corner where she had squatted just seconds earlier, the first guard came sprinting from the corner. She fired, missing her target and sending two rounds into the wall. She rolled to her left behind the cover of cubicles just as more gunfire peppered the very carpet she’d occupied. The room felt like it was spinning, and Sarah shook her head to get her bearings. The ringing slowly subsided. “What?”

“I found a way in,” Bryce said.

“A little late for that.” Sarah rushed down the aisle and bent to her knee at the other end. She poked her head around the side and saw two guards on the other end. She pulled back, and the cubicles were turned to Swiss cheese by a cluster of .223 rounds. The office supplies on the desks were torn to bits and rained down on her in a mist of paper and metal.

“The signal is on the move,” Bryce said.

“Well, then, why don’t you go and get it!” Sarah jumped up from behind the cubicle and managed to take out one of the guards stalking her away from the safety of his group, and she ducked before the retaliatory shots were fired.

“It’s heading to the roof,” Bryce replied, apparently ignoring Sarah’s earlier suggestion.

The thump of the gunfire was constant now. The guards refused to let up, hell bent on obliterating everything in the office. The cubicle wall slowly morphed from Swiss cheese to a very large open window. Sarah fired back through one of the openings and emptied the AR’s magazine. She dumped the rifle on the ground. She tilted her head back in exasperation and saw the sprinklers above her that followed an organized placement across the ceiling. She backed up, aimed, and blew off as many of the sprinklers as she could. The bullets shattered the small cylinders of glass that triggered the flood of water that soaked everyone in the room.

The firing stopped, giving her more than enough time to start to make her move up the back side of the office. The drops of water splashed against her face as she ran, aiming each end of her pistols at its own target. She lined up each shot carefully, knowing she’d only get one opportunity. The bullets ejected from the barrels of her guns and landed in their targets with pinpoint accuracy.

Water flew off her arms and legs as she sprinted down the hallway and shoulder checked the door past the now-empty receptionist desk. The office was empty, but a small door that revealed a staircase remained open.

“The signal is still on the roof,” Bryce said.

Sarah flew up the steps and burst out onto the roof, where she was met with a blast of wind from the chopper taking off. Sarah fired into the blasts of air, but the .45 rounds did little but scrape the helicopter’s paint job. The thump of the blades slowly dissipated into the air as Sarah’s wet clothes clung to her body.

“It’s gone.”

The voicemail message appeared on her phone, and Sarah picked it up. She changed out of her still-damp clothes at HQ and listened. Her brother’s voice gave her a brief moment of warmth. “Hey, just wanted to see how you were doing with the power outage. We’re fine here. Give me a call when you can.”

A smile crept onto her face as the beep signaled the end of the message. She sat down on the bench, staring at the phone. This was the first time in more than four months that her brother had called her. And she remembered the last call all too well.

The locker room was quiet, as most of the agents were still on their missions around the rest of the world. Mack had sent her to New York because she was the best, but this time she hadn’t been able to get it done. She stayed there for a moment, letting herself enjoy the silence and calm around her. Once she left the locker room and stepped back out onto the floor, she would reenter chaos and noise. It wasn’t something that bothered her—in fact, the chaos was something she thrived on—but for now, the silence was what she needed.

After a few minutes, she stood up from the bench, closed her locker, and headed out onto the floor. She found Bryce surrounded by the other support agents and elbowed her way to the front. “You guys know you’re not supposed to watch porn at work, right?” The joke didn’t even crack a smile, but when she saw the footage of what they were watching, she knew why.

“Video feed from Moscow,” Bryce said absentmindedly.

If Sarah had thought New York was bad, then Moscow was hell on earth. Massive fires consumed downtown St. Petersburg, and whatever wasn’t already burned or burning was smashed by the riots in the streets.

“Vince sent this an hour ago on his recon to pull our assets in the area,” Johnny said. “He barely made it out alive.”

The tone was one of defeat, and Sarah could feel it tearing through the group. “Hey,” she said, pulling their attention away from the screen. “Then let’s find the bastards who caused this.” The agents looked around at one another and rushed back to their stations.

“I’ve been keeping a trace on the Global Power program since New York,” Bryce said, changing the video on his screen from the riots to the GPS map. “I lost it once it left the eastern seaboard. It was moving too fast for the tracker to update in real time, but it landed here.”

“Spain?”

“Yeah, and get this.” Bryce pulled up another screen riddled with information with the words “Tuck Investments” at the top. “I did a cross-reference for any shares of companies Tuck Investments had its fingers in against any possible weaponized materials, which lead me to Precious Mining Inc. Tuck owns forty percent of that company, which is based out of Canada.”

“What do they mine?”

“They’re the largest producer of uranium in the world.”

“Christ.”

“Yeah. So then I tried finding any pieces of property where they could store uranium off the books, and I found three possible sites: one in Canada, another in Russia, and the third off the southern coast of Spain.”

Sarah squeezed Bryce’s shoulders hard, causing him to wince in pain. “Atta boy! Get me a weapons package ready. I’ve got a flight to catch.”

***

Rust and peeling paint covered the outside of the factory. It was an eyesore stuck in the middle of the marina off the Mediterranean coast, contrasting against the light- and dark-blue waves rolling in the sea. The windows of the factory were high, almost to the ceiling, concealing the true nature of the factory from any prying eyes.

Conveyer belts, forklifts, and workers dressed in hazmat suits pored over the materials coming down their lines with the same mechanical effort as the machines around them, performing the same repetitive motions over and over until their minds were numb and their backs sore from standing in the same position for hours.

High above the factory floor, concealed and protected behind thick sheets of steel, concrete, and glass, were Rick Demps and the rest of the board for Tuck Investments. Rick stood at the window, watching the assembly take place, watching the future of his company grow—along with its stock, which would make him the wealthiest man in the world. He smiled, swirled the glass of brandy in his hand, and turned back to his constituents, all of whom had the same wicked smile on their faces.

“Gentlemen,” Rick said, raising his glass to the room, “In less than eight hours, our shipments will be delivered in the cities around the world. When that happens, world leaders will be clamoring for us to save them with Global Power. Our stock price will go through the roof. We will be the saviors of the world.”

The men all raised their glasses in kind, the same greedy, contemptuous smiles leering back at him. Rick turned back around to the factory, sipping his drink, admiring the taste of his success and of all that would come to fruition. He looked at his watch then turned around to the rest of the board. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.” The assembled directors chuckled to themselves as the whiskey and other spirits warmed their bloated bodies.

Rick closed the door behind him, and his head of security detail, Heath, stepped in stride with him to the office from which he’d make the conference call. “Where are we at with the incident in New York?”

“All of them were dead, sir, and we couldn’t get any good pictures off the security feed. All we know right now is that it was a woman,” Heath answered.

“Ridiculous.” Rick’s voice came out in a violent, breathy whisper. The events in New York had triggered an annoying series of events. With the city still in chaos, he had to arrange for all the repairs to be flown in. The only positive that came out of it was the fact that he didn’t have to stay cooped up in that office any longer. “I want to find out who she is, where she is, and what we need to do to make sure she doesn’t bother us again.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rick closed the door to the office and left the details to Heath. There couldn’t be any slip-ups now, not when he was so close. The projector inside his office lowered, and he was soon greeted by the blurred face of the only member of his board that had not chosen to attend today’s meeting in person. “We have a problem.”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet, Demps?” The voice was still distorted, but even through the manipulation, Rick could sense the mockery.

“I understand you have access to certain pieces of information,” Rick said. “Well, I have a thorn in my side that’s causing us problems.”

“The girl.”

“I need her gone.”

“That’s something I won’t associate myself with, but I will send you what information I have. Just make sure once the stock sales rise, I get my share of the profits.”

“Always a pleasure doing business with you.” The screen went blank, and another incoming call came through, where he was greeted by the leaders of the United States, Russia, France, Italy, India, England, and China.

“Presidents, prime ministers, it’s an honor to have the opportunity to speak with you all at once,” Rick said.

“We need to know the status of Global Power, Mr. Demps,” the American president said. “We’ve already debriefed Russia, India, and China about the matter. We just need to know when it can go live and restore order.”

“I just came from a meeting with my engineers, and they say that they’ve almost fixed the damage to the program caused by the theft,” Rick answered. “Have we made any headway into how this breach in security happened?”

“No,” the American president answered, “but our collective intelligence agencies are working in cooperation to find out who was behind the attack.”

Rick leaned forward, pausing a moment before he spoke, running through all the different scenarios and outcomes that could happen based off how he chose to word it. The crew in New York would still be working on the building, but that wouldn’t matter. The fact that he had his own security detail there during such a dangerous time would be completely acceptable. If his friend didn’t come through, then this could be the only way to pull the weed that plagued his luscious garden. “Mr. President, you should know that during the blackout in New York, I was attacked in my own office.”

“Do you think it’s related to what happened in Germany?” the Italian president asked.

“A lot of my men were killed during the assault. It was definitely performed by a professional. I think they were trying to use me as a means to take control of Global Power,” Rick answered.

“Mr. Demps, anything you have, we’re going to need. It could help turn the tide in finding out whoever was behind this,” said the American president.

“Of course, Mr. President. I’ll have the head of my security detail send you everything we have immediately. The moment I hear from our engineers, I’ll be sure to contact all of you.”

The call ended, and the screen went blank. Rick leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the desk. Sharing intelligence. He was sure the only things any of them were sharing were lies and ways to get the upper hand on one another farther down the road. But for now, they all had a common enemy, and Rick didn’t mind leaning on the people he was manipulating to help him find the rat sneaking around his own operation. Whoever or whatever this thorn in his side was wouldn’t be around for much longer.