Authors: H.A. Raynes
Â
C
OLE
STEERS
THE
Land Rover down the driveway, just a sliver of night sky visible through the canopy of trees. He and Karen haven't said much. Both know what's at stake, their plan is tight. Still, nerves gnaw relentlessly at his stomach. One last time he mentally goes over the details from his conversation with Sebastian. But before he can finish, the security gate appears, and behind that, Mitchell's sprawling estate.
“Here we go,” he says.
At the intercom a female voice says, “Hello?”
“It's Doctors Moore and Coleman. Here to check on the patient.”
The massive iron gates groan to life, opening before them. Beside him, Karen coughs. He notices she looks white as a sheet.
“We're doctors, Karen. Doing the job we do every day.”
“Right.” She nods. “Just with guns.”
They trade anxious glances as he parks. Medical kits in hand, they get out and head for the front door. It opens before he can press the bell.
“Come in.” A young woman gestures them into the foyer, closing the door quietly. She must be about eighteen, striking, with a rope of strawberry blond hair running down her back, just as Sebastian had described. She motions for them to follow her.
They make it down one corridor unnoticed. But around the bend a hulking man dressed in black appears from an adjoining hall. He nods to Hannah but slows, clearly checking them out.
The guard blocks their path. “Who are they, Hannah?”
“Doctors. The Reverend asked for them to check on the patient.”
“At this time of night?” he says.
“I didn't make the appointment.” Hannah cocks her head. “Do you want to call Reverend Mitchell to verify their visit?”
Cole can't breathe, doesn't move.
The guard eyes them. His hand rests on his gun. “Go ahead.”
At the end of the hall, they descend a stairway that leads to an underground bunker. There appears to be several rooms.
“It's quiet down here,” Cole says.
“Most of the guards are on assignment tonight.” Hannah continues walking. “But a handful are patrolling the house. There's one in the patient's room, too.”
“We were warned,” Karen says. “We're ready.”
Hannah stops suddenly. “This is it.”
She places her hand against a wall sensor and the door opens. The scene is surreal to Cole. Steven lies handcuffed to a bed. In a corner of the room, a guard rises from his chair and reaches for his gun. Steven's head jerks up, his eyes wide, mouth agape.
Doing his best to act unfazed, Cole announces, “Doctors Moore and Coleman, here to check on the patient.”
The guard withdraws his hand from his weapon and sits again, now bored with their arrival. Understanding the situation, Steven rests his head on the pillow, stares at the ceiling. Cole avoids eye contact with him and, as Hannah watches them, he and Karen set their medical kits on a bureau and take out enough medical paraphernalia to show they're serious. They are across the room from the guard, their backs to him. Karen reaches inside her kit. In one swift motion she pulls out a dart gun, pivots, aims and fires. The needle sinks into the side of the guard's neck. One hand on his neck, the other on his holster, he slumps back into the chair and is out in seconds. Karen walks around the bed and retrieves his gun.
“I can't believe you're here,” Steven says. “Have either of you considered a career in the FBI?”
“Too corrupt these days.” Cole goes to Steven and puts a hand on his shoulder. “You all right?”
“The food was actually quite good.”
Karen smiles as she tucks the guard's gun into the back of her waistband
“And you, with weapons!” Steven says to her.
“Physician is my day job.” She pulls down his blanket and checks the wound in his thigh. “Looks like it's healing nicely.”
“We need to move fast.” Hannah points to a glass bubble in the corner of the room, housing a video camera. From a key chain, she selects a small key and opens Steven's handcuffs. He thanks her and rubs the raw skin around his wrist. Glancing at the sleeping guard, Cole is just about to ask, but Hannah anticipates his request. She pushes him into a heap on the floor and handcuffs his arm to the bed.
“We can use these.” She pulls the guard's walkie-Âtalkie from his belt.
“Who are you?” Steven asks.
“Hannah.”
“Jonathan's friend,” Steven says. “You've been to my house.”
She glances at her watch. “We need to go!”
“Why are you doing this?” Steven asks her. “Aren't you very close to the Reverend?”
“We don't have time for my history.” She doesn't make eye contact.
Cole pulls the tape off Steven's arm and extracts the IV. “Let's get out of here.”
Taking a retractable metal brace from her kit, Karen reinforces Steven's leg. He drapes his arms around Cole's and Karen's shoulders and stands, his weight on his good leg.
“Follow me.” Hannah heads to the door.
“Are you leaving with us?” Cole asks.
She hesitates, then nods.
“Can you shoot?”
“I've been preparing for Armageddon for a decade. Yes. I can shoot.”
Karen tosses the guard's gun to Hannah, who leads the way. Supporting Steven makes for a slow departure. After great effort to climb the staircase, they reach the main floor of the house. They move quietly down the corridor, ten feet, then twenty. The main door is just around the bend. Sweat beads on Cole's brow. He wonders what time it is, wonders if Lily has left for the airport yet.
Suddenly, up ahead, they hear voices. The corridor is stark, there's nowhere to hide. From around the corner two guards appear. They pull out their weapons.
“Hey!” one of them shouts. “What is this, Hannah? What are you doing?”
She aims at them, and they at her. Karen runs up to join her as Cole pulls Steven out of the line of fire.
The shots are deafening. One of the guards is hit. The other guard stumbles as a needle from Karen's gun takes effect. At the same time, Hannah groans and falls to her knees, blood streaming from her left arm.
“Shit!” Steven says.
“I've got her!” Karen tucks the dart gun into her waistband and helps Hannah to her feet. “Go!”
“The others are coming.” Hannah's voice is quiet. “They won't let us leave.”
“We're not asking,” Cole says. “Move!”
Blood from Hannah's arm spatters the floor, revealing their path down the hall as they flee out the door and into the Land Rover. Cole and Karen hoist their wounded accomplices into the backseat, then scramble into the front. Cole's hands shake as he grips the steering wheel. The front door of the residence swings open and four guards storm out, guns drawn.
“Go!” Karen screams.
Bullets ricochet off the glass and metal. Cole jams his foot on the pedal. The wheels spin the white gravel into a wall of dust as they rip around the circular drive. The bullets
ping ping ping
nonstop. The guards run after them. Holding his breath, Cole has a split second to debate ramming the closed security gate. But just as he presses the pedal to the floor, the gate opens. Glancing in the rearview, he sees Hannah holding a remote control. He exhales.
“Never underestimate a pretty face,” Steven says.
A slew of bullets spray the back window, the sheer force of them spreading a web of cracks. Hannah presses the remote again, closing the gates behind them.
“Your car has bulletproof glass?” Karen asks, her breathing labored.
“We got all the bells and whistles. Lily's a little paranoid.”
“Not paranoid,” Steven says. “Aware.”
“P
H
ONE
CALL
,
SIR
.” One of the BASIA soldiers in the control room holds out a phone to Charles.
“Not now.” Next to him, Jonathan focuses on the monitors. On the wall-Âsized screen, fifty zones are lit up throughout the United States, latitudes and longitudes noted along with codes that mean nothing to Charles. Nothing, yet everything.
“I'm sorry, sir, but I think you'll want to hear this,” the soldier presses.
Swiveling in his chair, Charles reluctantly takes the phone. “What is it?”
A security guard from his residence tells him that they've been compromised. That Âpeople disguised as doctors infiltrated the compound and took down three of their men. They escaped with Steven Hudson. And Hannah left with them.
Blood rushes to his face.
Hannah?
“Tell me again.”
Charles closes his eyes. He envisions the moving parts, the way things are supposed to fit together in his plan. Hannah isâÂwasâÂa part of that. Breathing deeply, he fights the urge to shout or physically attack something. This must be kept secret. Jonathan cannot learn that his stepfather has been freed. Without a word, Charles stands and strides out into the empty corridor, shutting the door behind him.
“How did this happen?” he seethes into the phone.
But all he hears are vowels and consonants, nothing that makes any sense. He interrupts the guard's excuses. “You're on God's time tonight. The most important moment in our history, and certainly in your life, and you were what? Having a snack?”
The man starts to speak again, but Charles won't hear it. “And Hannah? They must have forced her. Did they hurt her?”
“No, sir. She let them in. Used our keys to free Hudson, accessed the security codes. She shot at our men and stole the remote for the gate.”
Impossible. He leans his back against the wall for support. He's devoted years to her, been her only family, given her everything. It's unimaginable she would turn on him. Maybe she was blackmailed. Perhaps someone promised to reunite her with her sister and brother. It's the only answer.
“Who's following them?” he asks.
“They were too fast, sir. Hannah shut the gate before we could get into a vehicle.”
“Unacceptable. Gather a team and find them. Now!” He hangs up and straightens, sniffs. He works to relax the muscles in his face. He will exude calm and confidence.
Back in the control room, he finds Jonathan adjusting something on the board.
Hannah, sweet Hannah.
Was Jonathan part of this rescue mission? Many times she brought him dinner in his cell. Before that, Charles allowed her to visit Jonathan's home. He shakes his head at the thought. This pierced, gangly kid may be technically savvy but his charms end there. Charles pushes an image of Hannah from his mind and reminds himself that God's mission is all that matters now. By this time tomorrow they will have seized power. And unless the Lord Himself appears in the morning, it's his duty to take back this country in God's name.
“Where are we?” He reclaims his seat.
“The codes are set.” Jonathan points to glowing red dots in each of the states. “That means the systems have been hacked. In two hours they'll turn green, indicating a blackout within those grids. Government and utility generators, too. It'll last twelve hours. Then things will return to normal.”
“Normal.”
Repeating the word, he lingers on the sound of it, feeling its vibration on his tongue. “Thanks to our Lord, Jesus Christ,
normal
is about to be redefined.”
Â
A
T
L
OGAN
A
IRPORT
in the massive parking structure, Lily eases the car into a space near the International Departures Terminal. Cole just texted; he should be here any minute. Talia is asleep in her car seat. Quiet all night, Ian stares out the passenger-Âside window. Lily reaches over and tousles his hair.
Nearby, wheels screech on concrete. She checks the time, chews on a fingernail. Three hours until their flight departs. Finally, Cole's Land Rover pulls into the spot next to them. Lily and Ian jump out. Countless fingertip-Âsized indentations mar the car's body and the back window is a web of cracks.
“What happened?” On shaky legs, she gapes at the SUV.
Cole rushes to them and they embrace, cheeks and hair and coats mashing against one another. Relief washes over her and the fear drains. Everyone is here in one piece. Pulling away from her, Cole turns back to the others.
Steven rolls down his window as Karen gets out and opens the rear passenger door on her side. She takes vitals on a pretty young woman sitting next to Steven. Eyes closed, the girl's head rests on the seat back and a dark cherry-Âred stain on her arm makes Lily cringe. A makeshift tourniquet has stanched the bleeding.
My God, it looks like they were almost killed.
“Where were you?” she asks Cole.
“I'll tell you everything, I promise.” He gestures to her pristine car, barely driven. “Karen, you take Lily's car. It'll raise less suspicion.”
Without questions, Lily removes Talia in her car seat, setting her out of the way.
“Hannah's stable for now,” Karen says.
Together Cole and Karen unstrap the wounded girl from the backseat and place her into
the Land Rover, securing the seat belt around her.
Lily goes to Steven's window. “Are you okay?”
“I'll live.” He grins while Cole and Karen help transport him into the front passenger seat of Lily's car.
“What will you do?” she asks.
“Wish I knew,” Steven says. “Once we have Jonathan, we can make some decisions.”
“Who is she?” Lily nods to the girl who's been shot.
“We aren't sure,” Cole says. “But she risked everything to help us. Karen's going to take care of them.”
“I will.” Karen sets a hand on Cole's shoulder. “You should go. Be safe.”
“See you,” Steven says, shaking Cole's hand through the window. “I owe you.”
“I'm sorry we didn't find Jonathan.”
“Look at our hardy group!” Steven gestures to what remains of their team. His face becomes serious. “We'll get him out.”
“I know you will,” Cole says.
Everything's happening so fast. With a final round of waves, Karen hops in the driver's seat. They watch as the Land Rover drives away. The sudden quiet makes Lily aware of her shortened breath, which appears in a fog before her.
“Let's go, Fitzgeralds,” Cole says.
Lily picks up the car seat with her sleeping baby girl, as Ian and Cole manage the bags.
Briskly, yet as if it's any other trip, the family heads toward the terminal.