Undisclosed (29 page)

Maybe because Travis had been a part of that group, that’s what made him think it over. Maybe it was the slim chance that Travis was right; that there was a tiny part of his crazy, improbable story that rang true. And just maybe, that pursuing that mad lead could give him the answers; the answers he’d spent every day searching for.
Where were his wife and daughter?

He had to know.

Within minutes he was inside the property room, scouring through Travis’s belongings. He tilted the dark yellow folder and out slid the phone. Turning it on, he tapped into his inbox to check the last message. Sure enough—there it was, the message with attachment. Opening it he saw Laura behind her store’s counter serving customers, and there in the bottom left corner of the photo, barely noticeable, was a man’s hand, and on the same finger was the gold insignia ring, the blue band in the center, with partially cut-off lettering:
FBI NATIONAL ACADEMY.

Could he really be that stupid?

Again he questioned himself. But what was this? This wouldn’t hold up in a court of law; beyond a reasonable doubt? More like beyond a reasonable joke. It still wouldn’t change Travis’s predicament and it was far from answering his own questions. But it did prove one thing. He had been true to his word.

Frank quickly shut off the phone and stashed the phone in his pocket, put everything back where it came from, and exited.

Laughter and crude jokes came from down the hallway. It wouldn’t be long before they would be strong-arming their way back in and taking over. If he was going to act, he would have to do it now.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Despite the clock’s constant ticking, reminding him of his fate, Travis hadn’t yet started to believe that this could be where it would end. He refused to give up, and yet that didn’t stop his mind from bouncing back and forth between hope and dismay. He could see it now, his own obituary in the LA Monitor. There would be a hearing into why a seventeen-year-old was found slumped over in a police station, barely resembling the kid that went in. And the irony of it was the camera in the corner of the room would capture it all, like a sick horror flick. Maybe it would end up on YouTube for the whole world to tear apart and question. Though, more than likely it would be tucked away in some dusty back room archive, or deleted entirely. Either way they would be mopping up more than the mess on the floor.

No, no,
this wasn’t how it would play out.

He knew telling Frank had been a long shot. He didn’t expect him to buy it.
Aliens?
Even for him it was ludicrous. But he wasn’t going to wait around to hear the verdict. From the moment Frank left he had already begun to formulate a plan, sorting through in his mind a list of all alternative possibilities for escaping.

Frank had only been out a few minutes before Hamilton had returned, badgering him and threatening to tap into Travis’s worst fears if he didn’t tell him where it was. It was then he saw it. The thought of reliving the horror he experienced that night in the cemetery should have been enough reason to cooperate. The thought of dying, or worse, his family suffering because of his stubbornness; now that surely should have tipped the scales. Yet it was neither of these that led him to tell Hamilton where it was; instead, it was a faint glimmer of hope, a tiny window of opportunity that he could see. A complete crapshoot, like peeing in the dark, but he had to try it.

He yanked desperately on the cuffs that held him tightly to the chair, hoping they would snap open, but the shot of pain in his wrist snuffed that out quickly. He wondered when Hamilton would return; he had only given him enough information to force him to consider Travis’s plan.

And now it was just a matter of time.

Travis jerked up at the sound of the entry buzz. Hamilton came back in, though this time not stopping to small talk. He twisted a tiny key into his cuffs, unlocked them from the chair handle and quickly yanked him up, pulling his arm behind him and locking them both together.
He had bought it.

“Where we going?”

“On a little ride to get that serum.”

Just as he was leading him across the room, Frank walked in. Travis flashed him a look of dismay.

“Where are you taken him?”

Agent Hamilton kept moving, passing him as if he was nothing more than office furniture.

“FBI business. You had your chance.”

Frank followed quickly behind him until Hamilton met up with O’Neil at the exit.

“Listen, I demand to know where he’s being taken.”

Hamilton turned back. “This is out of your jurisdiction now.”

“Screw that, I told his mother—”

O’Neil quickly stepped in, putting his arm out. “Listen—Officer Davis, I understand you know the family but he has already admitted to being in the possession of further restricted material at his house. We are going to collect it.”

“Well, then, you don’t mind if I tag along, if only to make the process go a little smoother on the home front.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Hamilton growled.

“No, it should be okay.”

Hamilton shot O’Neil a look of disgust and they exited.

A minimal sense of relief came over Travis. While he was far from out of the woods, knowing he wasn’t going it alone eased the thought of riding solo with them.

* * * * *

As their black Trailblazer pulled up in front his home, Travis relaxed slightly. His biggest concern was his mother and thankfully the driveway was empty. His mind continued to play out on repeat what he had planned. He was uncertain it would work but it was unlikely he would get another chance like this. He had no control over what was going to happen next—for all he knew he could end up with a bullet in him—but if it was going to end then he’d rather it be here than in some cold interrogation room.

Travis shuffled around in the back of the vehicle. “You think you could loosen these up? They’re killing my wrists.”

Frank reached over. “Yeah, lean forward.”

“Leave them,” Hamilton bellowed.

“He’s not exactly got anywhere to run,” Frank shot back.

O’Neil gestured to Hamilton as if to let it go.

Frank unlocked and quickly reattached them. Though slightly more comfortable this still wasn’t what Travis had in mind. If the rest of his plan played out like this, he would be in trouble for sure.

Hamilton opened his door and guided him out, while O’Neil came around.

“You can stay with the vehicle, we won’t be long.”

“No, I’ll come in.”

Frank’s comment didn’t seem to go over too well with Hamilton, who was glaring at him incessantly. Frank followed behind them as they approached the front door.

“You might want to stay out here. My dog, Baxter, doesn’t take well to strangers.”

Hamilton flashed his gun. “Does he take well to this?”

“I’m serious.”

“I can take him in, I’ve visited their home enough times. It’s fine,” Frank reassured them.

O’Neil nodded and they stood out the front while Frank took him in. They pushed back on Baxter, who was driving the bulk of his body against their legs and wagging his tail. Frank closed the door behind them and quickly got straight to the point.

“Okay, Travis? Where and what is it?”

From the side of his eye, Travis looked out the window at Hamilton, who hadn’t removed his gaze from him since they had stepped in.

Travis motioned with his head towards the iron umbrella holder positioned close to the coat rack. Frank reached in and pulled out the two serum injectors.

Still kneeling down he turned it over in his hand, examining it. “What the hell is this?”

“That’s what I was telling you about earlier,” he said. “Frank, if you believe even a smidgen of what I told you, you’ll make sure he takes the one labeled two thirty one not two twenty five.”

Frank looked at Travis and then back at what he was holding. A bang at the door startled them both. Hamilton was growing impatient, wondering what was taking them so long. Baxter jumped up at the window, growling more ferociously than Travis or even Frank had ever seen before. Frank pulled him back with one hand while still holding the serums in the other. He put the dog in the family room and slid the doors closed and then turned back.

“I’m sorry, kid.”

Travis’s eyes closed. His heart sunk as Frank opened the door to the two agents.

He held up the serums. “Was this what you’re looking for?”

“That’s it,” Hamilton said, holding out his hand.

O’Neil looked perplexed. “What’s that?”

Frank stepped back, still clutching the serums.

“Oh, yes. That,” Hamilton said, pulling his gun and shooting off a round into the side of O’Neil’s head. The agent never even saw it coming. His body crashed to the porch floor like a large sandbag.

Frank slammed the door and pulled his weapon. Before he could react to flag Travis back, another bullet came flying through the window and propelled Frank to the floor, causing the serums to fly out of his hands and land a few feet from Travis. Travis dived for them just as the door broke open and Hamilton stepped in, his eyes black as night. Frank groaned, turning over in time to see Hamilton’s face before his eyes returned to normal.

“Now if you had just stayed at the station like you was supposed to, this would have gone a lot smoother.”

The sound of glass crunched below his feet as he made his way in, holstering his gun inside his jacket. Frank reached for his Glock only to watch it slide, as if by magic, out of his reach.

“Guns—never liked them—so sloppy.”

Travis had slipped serum 225 under his chest as he lay on the floor; the other he held in his hand.

Hamilton wiped his hands as if brushing off dust and then held out his hand.

“Now—the serum.”

“You want it? Go get it.”

Travis lifted it up and then threw it behind the agent.

He scowled at Travis. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.” He turned back to collect it.

At the same time, Travis slid the door to the family room open. Baxter pushed out and charged after Hamilton, diving at him, knocking him out onto the front porch.

Travis reached for Frank’s gun and gave it to him. The officer was moving but had taken a hit to his shoulder. His dark shirt was matted with blood.

“In my top pocket is the key. Grab it and get out of here.”

“But you?”

“Go!”

Travis grabbed the key and was scrambling to get up when he heard a yelp from outside.

“Baxter!”

“Get outta here, kid, now.”

Travis turned on his toes and bolted. As he stormed out the back door, throwing the unlocked cuffs to the ground, he could hear Frank calling over his radio for backup.

“Officer down, officer down …”

Outside he heard more gunshots ring out, one after the other. His bike was parked around the side. He leaped on it and kicked it into gear and held the throttle wide open as he cut through the trees and up a trail. He never let up on the gas, continually looking back, thinking that any minute he would be taken out by a bullet or worse. But there was no one following.

* * * * *

Once he had put enough distance between himself and the house, he bounced his way down through an area of forest that was thick with undergrowth and rocks. He could hear the sound of police sirens blaring in the distance; it wouldn’t be long and they would be searching for him. He had to get back to The Black Hole. He looked down at his watch—five hours and seven minutes left. His body was beginning to feel the strain of the serum that was now circulating its way through his vital organs and breaking down his system, making his skin feel as if it was on fire. Breathing was now even harder.

Chapter Thirty

It was beginning to get dark as he cut the engine outside. He hastily made his way down the spiral stairwell as fast as his body would allow.

Don’t lie.
We already checked.
Hamilton’s voice echoed in his head.

Inside, walking through the narrow halls, it looked as if a nuclear bomb had gone off inside. It was complete chaos, items burned, papers scattered, machines turned over and concrete smashed, and yet, that wasn’t the worst of it. As Travis entered the den, he slowed down to a crawl. Mason stood beside Ty, who had his head buried in his hands. Beside them, laid out on a table, was Lincoln. His body was motionless, his face an ash grey. Mason looked up, not speaking a word, and then his head dropped.