Authors: Jason Brant
"I'm guessing they figured out I escaped the hospital," I said to Nami as I looked back at her.
"Oh yeah, they're officially calling the search for you a manhunt now. You have a bunch of new charges too: assault, impersonating an officer, et cetera. They have a picture of you up, but your face doesn't look anything like that right now. You look like you went for a swim in a meat grinder."
Random emotions and ideas were flitting through my mind as cars zipped past in the other lanes. Their prominence kept increasing, like turning up the volume on a television.
"Don't slow down, just run all the lights." I put my palms on my temples, squeezing my head. "We're running out of time."
"Time for what? Was he going to kill us back there?" Nami asked.
"Yeah, he was going to shoot both of you and pin your murders on me."
"What? Why? We were helping them!"
"All of Smith's people were killed by Murdock. They brought you in because you were the youngest, most expendable tech analyst they could find. They planned on killing you once their mission was accomplished. After what's about to happen they can't have any loose ends."
Traffic bogged down as we came to the intersection at Florida Avenue and Sammy had to stop. The fog that descended in my mind made it nearly impossible to see or hear anything around me. The pressure escalated to an unbearable level as I bent over in my seat, wrapping my arms around my head.
"Go! Drive on the sidewalk if you have to!"
If they said anything to me, I couldn't hear them. I just kept pleading for her to drive over and over again.
Slowly the vise-like pressure eased. When I sat up my vision had cleared enough to see that we were weaving through traffic at an insane pace. We clipped the back end of a yellow Camaro as Sammy swerved into the right lane.
"Shit, sorry!"
She sat ramrod straight, her chest almost touching the steering wheel. She looked so tense that if she farted she might fly through the windshield.
Nami said something from the back seat but I couldn't hear her through all the other voices floating by.
"I can't hear you!"
"I said what's about to happen?" she yelled.
"Murdock is going to kill the president on national TV."
The war drums were beating again.
As the sun set behind the Washington Monument it cast a long shadow over the raucous crowd waiting for President Thomas. The entire courtyard surrounding the obelisk was jammed full of furious citizens. Throngs of people pushed back across Constitution Avenue, spilling hundreds of yards beyond the monument.
The fervor of the attendees approached riot levels as they anticipated the answers the POTUS would give. What was initially going to be a rah-rah speech about the current economic climate of the country had morphed into a war rally. The information that had been leaked to the press had pointed to Iranian trained terrorists causing the deaths of Senator McArthur, the DC8, and the many agents killed in the cemetery.
Murdock had anticipated that no one would pay attention to the small details. Once the people demanded blood, they got it. It would only take a simple, nonsensical explanation to account for how a terrorist could get a Senator to commit suicide. It would be exactly the same after President Thomas was killed by his own Secret Service.
Standing in the thick of the crowd, Murdock didn't need to read anyone's thoughts to see their anger and eagerness for revenge. All of their fury combined didn't match the vengeful fire that burned inside him. With one final blow he would bring down the system that had left him to rot, and demolish his tormentors at the same time. All that would remain was Smith. Murdock always believed in saving the best for last.
A brown hooded sweatshirt, loose jeans, and Pirates baseball cap made him appear like anyone else in the crowd. Slipping through the police checkpoints had been as simple as expected. He didn't carry a firearm, never had, and could have mentally forced one of the guards to ignore it even if he did. The ease with which he could destroy the leaders of the world's most powerful nation amused him so much that he couldn't suppress the slight smile that cracked his lips.
President Thomas would take the stage in a matter of moments. Murdock would wait until after he addressed his plans to retaliate; then the games would begin.
I took a long, deep breath and then slapped my throbbing knee. The pain was fierce and immediate, but it temporarily blotted everything else out.
Sammy careened around Mt. Vernon Square so fast that for a moment I thought we were going to flip the car. At the last possible moment she straightened the wheel and we rocketed forward onto New York Avenue. Though traffic slowed us down we would be at the National Mall in a few moments.
"I'm trying so hard not to poop myself right now!" Sammy said. Her eyes looked like they might bug out of her head.
"What do you mean he's going to kill the president? At the big speech tonight? That's madness!" Nami said from the back.
"Before I got my ass kicked back there I took a peek into Chuck's mind. Murdock isn't a foreign assassin; he worked for Smith."
"What?" Smith and Sammy said in at the same time.
"He was captured a few months ago while on a mission in Iran. Smith, Senator McArthur, and President Thomas disavowed him and left him to die. They actually sent in another assassin to kill him, so he couldn't give the Iranians any information. That's why he killed everyone involved in the program, because they betrayed him."
Sammy blew through the next red light and barreled onto the sidewalk, knocking over a large post office box in the process. Letters flew through the air like confetti, covering the windshield before blowing away. A couple walking toward us dove in opposite directions, trying to get out of the way.
"Sorry!" she said through her window. The man sprawled on the sidewalk flipped us off as we flew by them.
"Are you trying to hit everything you can see?" Nami asked. She bounced around like a ragdoll in the back as we smashed through a flower stand.
"You probably should have stolen a car with a child safety seat," I said.
She started to retort but was cut short when we screeched along the side of a minivan as Sammy swerved back onto the road. I had to give her credit: she did everything she could to make sure our car didn't stop.
"So if Smith used you to find Murdock, why let him go in the cemetery?" Nami asked.
"He didn't. Not completely, anyway. They've been tracking him since then. The information you gave about his escape has been used in official reports to President Thomas."
Police cars formed a road block ahead of us, rerouting traffic for the president's speech.
"Slow down," I said. "Take a left on fourteenth street and follow the speed limit. Cops and secret service are going to be everywhere from here on out."
We didn't slow down enough as we swung onto the street, away from the barricade, because I could see the officers pointing and shouting at us as we went by. Less than ten seconds later a patrol car raced after us, lights swirling.
"What do we do?" Sammy asked. She was nearing hysteria.
"Keep going, we're almost there."
"Why are they giving false information to the president? This isn't making any god damn sense," Nami said.
"President Thomas and Senator McArthur planned to shut down Smith's agency after Murdock's capture. They felt it was too much of a security risk having agents capable of mind transference landing in the hands of foreign nations. You know all of those creepy nursery rhymes Murdock keeps saying? Smith's team used those as a way of communicating to their operatives in the field."
"So he used those to let Smith know who killed his people. That and it's creepy as hell."
"Exactly. Smith also knew that he would try and kill all three of them: Thomas, McArthur, and Smith himself. That's when Smith decided to let him assassinate the senator and the president. Smith and his goons have been following Murdock since the cemetery, waiting for him to take out President Thomas. Once he does they're going to make their move on him. Then Smith and his program will be safe."
"That's madness!"
"What you just said is so confusing!" Sammy said.
Nami looked at me through the mirror on my visor. "So the president is using Murdock's crimes as fuel to start a war?"
"It seems like it."
"And Smith is allowing Murdock to kill the president, to keep his program active?"
"Yes."
"Murdock was captured and probably tortured by the Iranians. So he wants revenge on the men who abandoned him. What are the odds that he's trying to maneuver the president into attacking Iran?"
"Pretty damn high."
"So all three of these buttholes are using each other without realizing they're being manipulated at the same time?"
"Isn't America great?"
Nami sat back in her seat, contemplating all of the information I just dumped on her.
"If they've been following Murdock since the cemetery, how did they guess he would even be there? And if they thought they could find him at the funeral, why kidnap your dumb ass?"
"They thought they could find him there, but they didn't dare get close to him. He would have sensed their presence long before they could figure out which person he was. That's why they threw me in there, like a lamb to the slaughter. The funeral service was for a friend of Murdock's. She worked with him as one of the agents for Smith.”
"Didn't Murdock kill all of the other agents? He killed his own friend?"
"Yup. He didn't want to leave any telepaths alive that could help the government locate him."
"We're so screwed."
I thought the same thing.
If he didn't have a problem killing his friends, then what hope did the rest of us have?
The patrol car closed the distance and pulled alongside us, sirens blaring. The officer stabbed his finger at the side of road, demanding we pull over.
Sammy, still sitting straight as an arrow, refused to look over at him.
"I'm going to jail, I'm going to jail, I'm going to jail."
Everything began closing in around me. As we got closer to the massive crowd at the monument, I was being overtaken again.
"Pull over at the end of block; we're here," I said. "No matter what, you have to get me as close to the crowd as possible."
The Explorer skidded to a stop as Sammy slammed on the brakes. The front end of the car protruded onto Constitution Avenue. An old woman walking in the direction of the speech looked at us with contempt. Without saying a word, she hit the side of the car with her cane and then kept walking.
In the side view mirror I could see the officer step out of his car while removing his firearm from its holster.
"Out of the car!" With his gun aimed, he circled around us.
The moment Thomas took the stage, flanked on all sides by his Secret Service detail, Murdock leeched his thoughts. The smug bastard reveled in his newfound support. Less than a week ago his approval rating had been in the toilet. Now he could kick a puppy and people would cheer him.
Who knew having a psycho on the loose could turn into political gold?