Son of Cerberus (The Unusual Operations Division Book 2) (28 page)

“What’s the plan, Marcus?” Henry yelled over the sound of the engines and the wind whipping past. “We’re not going to be able to board with all those men.”

“We’ll make a pass,” Marcus said, determination forming his jaw into a jagged line. “If there are too many men for us to take out, we’ll sink the boat that’s following them and wait for the Coast Guard to stop the ship.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Cynthia said, perched alongside Marcus and squinting out into the darkness. “But there’s two boats following, not just one.”

Marcus squinted, too, as he tried to see what Cynthia was talking about. She was right, unfortunately. The single group of green and red lights that they had seen trailing beside the back of the huge ship split into multiple groups as one motored off into the darkness. Marcus cursed out loud at the fact that no one else was helping them.

“Can’t catch a break,” Henry said, eyeing the distant spots of light as best he could with his less-than-perfect vision. “So we can stop at least one of the shipments, right?”

We’re going to try,” Marcus said, formulating a quick plan in his head.

Discussing it quickly between themselves meant that Henry took the wheel. Marcus and Cynthia ensured that the little boat had no lights as Henry maneuvered the vessel stealthily through the waters.

Once the little boat caught up to the Catalan, Henry wasted no time in putting the plan into action. From just out of view, he steered the boat hard toward the vessel receiving the shipment. Without a second thought, he plowed right into the smaller boat as Marcus and Cynthia jumped recklessly onto the bow. Within a second, they were on their feet with guns leveled on anything that moved.

The collision tore the smaller, yet very large, luxury yacht away from the cargo ship. With little time to spare, Marcus made for the gangway as Cynthia picked a gun-toting individual off from behind him. With Henry covering their backs, the two made it onto the steps and started working their way up.

Content with the damage to the yacht, Henry broke away and kept his own little boat in the shadow of the 300 meter ship. As gunfire spat from the enemy craft, he punched the gas and fired back.

Marcus, armed with the Desert Eagle, pumped five rounds into the yacht from above. Whatever he hit did the trick. The yacht started slewing at an odd angle and slowed to a crawl. The huge 50 caliber slugs must have damaged something, or Marcus had killed the pilot. Either outcome worked for him.

Cynthia spotted a man with a gun ahead and quickly put him down as they made it up the last few steps. As they rounded the corner, they expected to be greeted by men with guns, or knives, just waiting to take them down. Instead, it was an empty deck. The men, or women, who had been so adamant on putting them down, had obviously retreated from the gunfire.

With her expert eyes, Cynthia was the first to jump down onto the deck. She scanned both ways while Marcus followed. They knew that they were in enemy territory now. Keeping their heads was going to be tough.

Scurrying away from the railing, they found cover against one of the huge stacks of containers. Marcus whispered to Cynthia that they should head toward the bridge when something he had not expected rolled his way.

The familiar clank of something strange told Marcus that they had to leave. Before them, rolling quickly from a distant hiding place, came a grenade. Neither he nor Cynthia had to be told what to do. It was either jump off the ship, or end up peppered with lethal fragmentation.

They ran and jumped without hesitation, bracing themselves for the huge drop into the water. The explosion shook the air behind them, but there was no fireball. Just a loud bang and an incredible concussion which followed them into the dark.

Both splashed down with their hands close to their chest and feet tucked together, like they had been trained. In seconds, they were reoriented and swimming to the surface. Marcus witnessed Henry making a jump into the ocean, too, in order to avoid a volley of gunfire that suddenly rained down on the small boat they had commandeered.

Now, angry men stood over the side of the ship watching the three UOD agents slip away. One man with a rifle leaned far over and leveled the rifle toward Marcus and Cynthia. The rest simply waited—he would kill them both shortly.

As Marcus and Cynthia braced for the worst, they spotted something that neither of them could have hoped for. A helicopter appeared out of the darkness, spraying automatic weapon fire across the containers above. The red and white paintjob meant that the Coast Guard had finally showed up.

The men ducked away from the side of the ship, instead turning their attention to the more obvious threat from above.

The three members of the UOD howled in excitement as the cavalry finally managed to show up. The good guys boarded the ship as yet more assets arrived in the distance, blocking the paths of anything within the shipping lane.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Cynthia said, slapping the water as she floated in place. “It’s about time we get some help.”

Heavy gunfire in the distance signified lethal battle was occurring. Marcus let his head sink lower into the water as tracer rounds flew out toward them, skipping sometimes from the water as they flew above the three.

“Maybe we should get to shore,” Henry said, also feeling sort of naked in the water. Marcus agreed, noting the fact that some large shadow was looming ominously behind them and the low thrum of a motor made them all feel as if their insides might vibrate into mush. Marcus was the first to start paddling, freestyle, away from the center of the shipping lane.

A Coast Guard cutter, guns bristling off the bow, motored past while the three pulled themselves out of the water and smiled thankfully. They had, at least partially, succeeded in what they had come to do.

“Marcus,” Gregory said through the cellphone Marcus was currently borrowing. Unfortunately his nearly thousand dollar digital device hadn’t been equipped with water-impermeability yet and his recent swim had destroyed it. For now, one of the many police officers taking them into temporary custody was kind enough to allow him to use a much cheaper cellular device.

“We’ve got problems on every front,” Gregory said. “You’re going to have to wait it out until we send your documents in.”

“We might have just saved thousands of lives,” Marcus said incredulously, holding the telephone between two soaked and chained hands. The police weren’t about to believe such an unbelievable story without some sort of proof. There had been too many shootouts that night for them to worry about whether the NSA agents were who they said they were.

“Thousands of lives and we’re being sent to the clink? What if these guys are as crooked as the last cops?”

“Could be possible,” Gregory said grumpily. “Those two were imposters though. Besides, maybe they will cut you out in a few hours or something. For right now, sit tight and don’t drop the soap. Cases like this require certain formalities and you can’t blame the local authorities for being too cautious.”

“So what’s going on out there that’s so big?” Marcus asked.

“You’ll hear about it soon enough,” Gregory angrily muttered. “For now, just sit tight. It could be a few minutes, or you could be there a day. Either way, see you soon.”

Not a single Coast Guard or police asset had been killed. The bad guys, all twenty of them, had either been killed, wounded, or taken into custody. Unfortunately, regardless of how much Marcus complained, he couldn’t get the Coast Guard to magically find a missing boat. Besides, they were in one of the busiest port-areas in the world.

A small boat like the one they had seen slipping into the darkness would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

“So what now?” Cynthia said. The large towel supplied by the fire officials did a good job covering what her moisture wicking undergarments didn’t. She had been the only one out of the three smart enough to wear something underneath her suit, much to the envy of the Marcus and Henry who were forced to sit tight in soggy clothes.

“Guess we just wait for our credentials to come back,” Marcus said happily. “Maybe take a nap?”

The officer in the front seat chirped away into his shoulder-mounted microphone while the three got as comfortable as they could. They had been through quite a few long days and now they had finished what they had come for. Even though they hadn’t rounded up all the strange lifeforms that had presumably been hiding in plain sight for decades, or even longer, they still did as much as they could. They had also broken the case wide open, revealing that what they were after wasn’t a terror machine but something far more complicated and sinister.

Marcus smiled. He didn’t know whether or not they had proven the existence of alien life or simply some bacteria that had been hiding for the better part of human history. Either way, they would go down as the men and women who covertly witnessed and perhaps identified some lifeform capable of taking over the human body. The only downside is that their files would probably never be released.

It reminded Marcus of the fungus that took over ants, forcing them to do its bidding and propagate the species of the spore.

“Well,” the officer in the front seat said, understanding that the team had been through quite a day. “I know you were all just getting comfortable, but you’re free to go.”

“Aww, what?” Henry complained. “I was hoping for a cell and some hot food.”

They hadn’t even left the scene where they had been taken into custody. The side of the road was dark here, as they had traveled up past many of the port loading areas in the boat.

“Do you think you could drop us off somewhere?” Cynthia said, her voice dripping with a sweetness she reserved for such situations.

“Those are my orders,” the officer said, smiling at Cynthia and the rest of the team. Unlike many people they had come into contact with lately, the officer seemed genuine and happy. “I’ll make sure you guys have some warm clothes to head home with, or just take you straight to the airport. It’s your choice.”

Marcus and Henry exchanged glances. They wouldn’t mind some time to themselves, since they had been either on the road or shot at for the better part of the last week. Silently, they decided they would get back to the airport too late to hitch a ride that night. Besides, the quicker they got back to D.C., the quicker they would have to get back to work.

Then Marcus had the whole Julie situation to deal with.

“We’ve got a truck. Just take us there. I have some shopping to do.”

Phillip was busy wondering whether or not he was going to eat a hot chunk of lead. He hadn’t counted on Stewart, the man who had tried to kill them and then threatened them with an explosive vest, showing up. He wasn’t happy, but then again neither was Stewart.

“How did you find us?” Stewart said as the two men roughly searched and unceremoniously stripped him of his weapons, cell phone, and small backpack.

“I just came here to watch the birds,” Phillip said sarcastically. “I mean, this
is
a bird sanctuary, right?”

“More or less,” Stewart said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “But we don’t really care about birds here. There’s a warehouse, some bad guys, and even a small burial ground out back. I think you’ll find it feels very homey.”

“You would think that after such a long chase, I would look forward to a nap,” Phillip said as one of the large men pushed him forward. “But, I’ve always been keen to sleep in my own bed.”

“Well maybe it will feel like home once your entire team is buried alongside you. Who else knows you’re here?”

“No one,” Phillip lied. “I came out here alone, against the wishes of the department.”

Stewart dropped his shoulder and balled his fist. Phillip knew what was going to happen, so he clenched his jaw and braced for the punch. It came like a baseball bat across his cheek, sending him reeling into the wall. The little guy had quite a punch, but not enough to put Phillip down for any considerable amount of time.

“The first of many,” Stewart said, rubbing his bruised knuckles. “Bring him downstairs. We are about to fire up the machine again—it’s our little master’s last treatment. In fact, I’ve got a better plan for you Phillip. We need a friend on the inside, someone that can take the pressure off of us. Maybe we can give you one of our more aggressive friends. That way you’ll be useful to everyone.”

“More aggressive friends?” Phillip wasn’t following. “I thought you were aggressive. I can’t imagine someone worse than you.”

“You’re not understanding,” Stewart said, rounding on Phillip again as he stood in the middle of the hallway. Phillip caught a glimpse of someone moving outside. It was so faint and so quick he wondered whether or not he had seen anything at all. It must have been Stephen though, as he doubted David was worth anything right now.

“I’m going to inject a parasite into your body. It’s going to slowly take over your entire persona, unbeknownst to either your family or friends. It’s going to merge with your being as it is now, and drain you of your life. The most aggressive ones do that, you see. They take over a life instead of live symbiotically with its host. Your dreams, your hopes, your very memories will all be destroyed. You’ll simply be a husk, a shell of a man that carries out what your new master tells you to.

“The better ones, the ones you’re not going to have anything to do with, live alongside their host. They augment every bit of life. They make the host stronger, faster, healthier, and smarter. They remember every single thing that has ever happened during the life of their species. They create a better human, a better organism. They are what we are trying to protect. They are the future of our civilization.”

“Listen,” Phillip said, knowing something bad was going to happen soon. “You’re threatening me and you’re putting the world at risk. To me, that sounds bad. If you don’t mind, I’m going to bail out. If you want to stick around and burn with your body snatchers, that’s your deal.”

With his last word, Phillip hoisted himself into the air using the two men behind him. With both feet, he kicked Stewart as hard as he could in the chest. The smaller man stumbled backward hard and fell to the floor as bullets started tearing through the hallway. One of Phillip’s captors hit the floor never to stand again. The other man flung the secret door open and dove headfirst through. Phillip heard the sound of a man crashing painfully down stairs and wondered what could possibly be hiding back there.

Stewart wasn’t finished. He had hit the ground hard, but was already recuperating. His silenced pistol swept across the hallway sending muted thuds through the walls. Phillip reacted by smashing the pistol ferociously out of his hand. The little pistol went skittering down the hallway, but Stewart was much quicker

With what seemed like a flick of his arm, he managed to throw Phillip down the hallway and through a doorway. Stewart eyed his pistol, pondering whether or not he should even risk the few feet between them. The answer came in form of Stephen and his own pistol appearing in the doorway.

Stephen fired away without hesitation, trying his hardest to end the pathetic life of someone who had maimed his girlfriend and drug them around the world. No matter how fast he fired, Stewart was quicker. He dashed like a flash back and through the secret door through which his counterpart had fled.

Phillip was having a tough time recovering from what had been the most violent throw of his life. His ribs felt as if they were on fire and it was difficult to catch his breath. It was something he hadn’t expected from Stewart, or from any human being on the planet. He had even come up against people under the influence of the mysterious Relics, but none of them had been able to fling him around like a ragdoll.

His friends ran down the length of the hallway, determined to guard Phillip as he slowly rose to his feet and capture Stewart simultaneously. As Stephen rounded the corner and pointed his gun down the stairs, David ran the rest of the way and gave their downed friend a hand.

“You okay,” he asked as Phillip managed to get his feet beneath him.

“I…” Phillip found it difficult to breathe, let alone speak. “I think I’ll make it. Let’s get after that little rat.”

Phillip tried to keep his legs from wobbling as he walked. In just a few feet, he had enough adrenaline flowing through him to make him forget about his pain. He shouldered his backpack and grabbed the weapon that had been taken from him before they all went through the secret door.

The area beyond was a well-lit steel staircase. Phillip stayed behind Stephen as they descended into the unknown, content to watch as the big man took point. Long sweeping curves took them ever lower into a part of the building they hadn’t guessed existed. Below, they could hear Stewart yelling as the two bad guys did their best to get away.

The yelling abruptly stopped as Stewart and his counterpart entered into another room. Stephen slowed down at the entrance only seconds behind his prey, knowing full well he could be walking into a trap.

What he saw made him abandon caution. Before him was a domed room at least fifty feet high. The floor gave way another twenty feet to a sunken in, circular room decorated lavishly with ornate rugs and heavy oak desks. Stewart chanced a look back before throwing himself over the banister of the walkway that enclosed the room. With the slightest of ease, he landed nimbly and dove for cover.

The other man he had been with was still running along the elevated walkway toward a set of stairs on the distant end.

“You’re too late, goddamnit,” Stewart said, approaching a group of people in the center of the room. They had watched as the group of men ran down the stairs and were now staring, mouths agape, at what was transpiring.

Phillip threw himself out onto the gangway, pointing his pistol at the group of people to make an impression. There, among the three individuals, was someone he had not expected to see. A petite young woman with black-as-night hair and twig arms and legs stared up at him, confused as to what was going on. She wore a thin tank top and tights, but no shoes or socks.

“You’re too late,” Stewart said again, grabbing the girl by the back of her neck. “No one will recognize this girl after tonight. She will be the most powerful being on the face of this planet. She will lead us to a better future, a better life. She is our gateway off of this wretched planet. She is what all this trouble has been about.

“Once her transformation is complete, she will pave the way to change a million more. She is our crown jewel, the achievement of decades of work. She holds all the knowledge of everyone that has come before her. She can take us back to from where we came. Don’t you see? It’s a better world we’re trying to create.”

“But what if people don’t want to change?” Phillip asked rationally.

“Then they will die with the rest of you,” Stewart yelled.

“It should be a choice, not something you force on thousands,” Phillip said, joined on both sides by Stephen and David. “You can’t force people to give up their bodies so this little experiment of yours can take hold of the human race. You can’t force people to give up who they used to be, Stewart. It’s not right—it’s criminal.”

“Criminal to force an evolution?” Stewart forced Amy to look up at the balcony. Her eyes sparkled blue, a deeper blue than Phillip had ever seen. They were keenly aware of all that was going on around her.

“Is it criminal to make humans better than they were? All evolution is forced. Either get better or die. It’s been the way for many thousands of years, yet you say it’s criminal? Why don’t we just ask? My dear, why don’t you tell them what you feel right now?”

Amy stumbled forward out of reach of Stewart. Her eyes seemed perturbed now, unlike they had been moments ago. She was in deep thought, contemplating exactly what Stewart had asked her.

“I feel sad,” she said suddenly. “Our kind is not meant to force change, but I fear we must now simply act to pave the way for it.”

“My dear,” a woman in a black coat said. Though Phillip didn’t know who she was, Gelda had forged a lasting relationship with Amy that predated anything they could ever imagine.

“Silence,” Amy said, turning back to face them. Something about her voice had changed. It was the commanding voice of someone both of them had come to know through years and years of familiarity. The inflection, the tone, even the way her words were pronounced came out exactly as they had remembered. It was the being that they had tried so hard to bring to life.

“Master,” Gelda whispered.

“Not quite,” Amy said. “We have become something new, Gelda. My companion and I are now in perfect synchrony—something you’ve always been afraid of. I am still myself, both of us, yet we will never separate again. It turns out Guadalupe had something worth preserving, something she refused to give up.

“All of this destruction must end.”

“You’re just sick,” Stewart said, frantically. “You need another treatment.”

“I’m sick,” Amy said sardonically. “I’m the one who wants us to live in harmony, as I’ve learned to do. I’m the one who has finally learned we cannot force this on our hosts. I’m the one who wants to preserve humanity. Please tell me how that is sick?”

“Humanity
will
be preserved,” Stewart said.

“Except for those who do not wish to change?”

“They are simply roadblocks.” Stewart was becoming agitated. “Obstacles which must be overcome in order to bring about this new way of life. Our ticket out of here lies in this choice, you fool.”

“Obstacles,” Amy mused. Something about her seemed strong, confident, and infinitely larger than her little body could show. “You are the obstacle here, Stewart. It is not our choice, but theirs.”

Stewart looked exasperated at the woman who had been addressing them. She had never spoken with such authority to him, and it felt as if he had been slapped across the face. He had obviously thought something else was going to happen, which made Phillip chuckle to himself.

“Look at him,” he whispered. “Shot down by a kid.”

“Asshole,” David said. Stephen, however, shook in rage. He wanted the blood of that man, not his acquiescence.

“Their choice?” Stewart shuddered as rage filled his voice. “Their choice? I don’t know what you did with the man we once knew, but maybe a few more treatments will make it all better.”

Stewart spun as fast as lightning, hitting a large metal box sitting upon one of the heavy oak tables. In just a fraction of a second, the entire world changed. Pain and nausea shot through everyone, sending most reeling or down to their knees. The man who had been fleeing the agents stumbled and fell down the stairs. His head made a sick cracking noise as it met the concrete below with far too much force.

Phillip grabbed the steel railing in front of him as the world tilted and swayed around him. Where hanging lamps had once shed light across the ground, fire now dripped in thick tendrils. The men and women once standing in the pit or talking with one another now looked like wretched, demonic beasts with tails and bleeding skin, claws that resembled ravens feet or hooves that left behind prints of fire.

Stephen looked down at his own hands and saw them change before him. They no longer resembled that of a strong man, but a fragile, broken grandmother.

Though they were in the grasp of the most severe hallucinations Phillip and Stephen had ever witnessed, David seemed mostly unfazed. He calmly grabbed the weapons from both Stephen and Phillip and put them on the ground before walking quite calmly across the elevated walkway. Phillip watched demon David leave, horrified that he couldn’t force his body to move against the terror he felt within. He couldn’t grasp where reality ended and the hallucinations began. He had no idea whether or not the second creature that followed him was real or not.