The Dark Rift: Ascension (The Dark Rift Book Series 1) (24 page)

Jodie opened her eyes ever so slightly, squinting to take in the sights in front of her. She could clearly make out feet lying on the floor close to her face. From behind her, she could hear the gentle breath of someone in deep sleep. Jodie willed herself to sit up. As she did, waves of nausea gripped her and pushed her back down, flat on her back. She breathed hard, sweat forming on her forehead. She lay motionless for several minutes, opening her eyes wider, searching for any movement.

The pain in her head almost bearable now, she dragged herself over to the nearest wall and pushed up into a sitting position, waiting as the nausea passed. Remembering the altercation in the forest earlier, she felt for the bandage on her forehead. It remained in place. Her mouth felt like it was filled with cardboard. She could finally focus on the other figures in the room. Mei sprawled on the floor in front of her, her nose bleeding. Leah lay on the opposite side of the room, pain evident in her facial expression even as she slept.

Jodie crawled to Mei and gently shook her shoulder. "Hey, are you okay? Mei? Wake up."

Mei made a grumbling noise, then started to cough, clots of blood coming from her mouth. "God, my head hurts," she said, blinking way tears and spitting blood on the floor.

Jodie pulled a tissue out of her pocket and handed it to Mei. "Are you okay? I mean, are you hurt? Your face. What happened to your face? I can’t remember."

"I don’t know. Last thing I remember was the train door opening and being sprayed with something. I think I must have fallen right on my face." Mei began gently dabbing the half-dried blood away with the tissue. "Is Leah okay?"

"I don’t know. I’ll check." Jodie slid over by Leah and rocked her arm gently. She listened and could hear a shallow breath. Jodie touched Leah’s forehead, finding her skin cold and clammy. She felt for a pulse. "She’s not in great shape. She’s barely breathing and her pulse is weak."

Mei stood up, knees wobbling, and walked slowly over to Leah.

Jodie stood up and leaned against the wall, trying to stop the room from spinning. She steadied herself and walked to the door, examining the knob, and seeing a deadbolt. She instinctively reached for her gun, finding her holster empty. "They took my gun. We’re unarmed here. We don’t have any fire power to take care of this lock, either." She turned to face Mei and jumped, startled by the sound of the lock opening behind her. Jodie took two steps back, spun, and faced the door as a woman appeared in the doorway. She felt her legs going weak once again.

"Hello, Jodie," the woman said.

She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. "Mom?"

* * *

Bob ran ahead of the group, trying doors as he went, looking for an escape. Since jumping off the train, they stayed in the shadows, delving deeper and deeper underground. Hours passed since they were separated from Jodie, and Bob feared the worst. If Jodie were alive, surely she would have made her way back to them, by now. He worried about her and about his wife, too. He hated not being able to let Maria know where he was. He knew she’d be scared, waiting for him at home, ready to plead with him to find a different career. He felt dishonest because he never really explained to Maria what kind of life they’d be leading. He would change all that when he returned. For now, though, he knew he was where he should be.

Jodie was the best field agent he ever worked with - a capable leader, an amazing investigator, a great friend. He knew he couldn’t let her down any more than he could disappoint Maria. Yet, he felt guilty, wondering if he made the right choice, jumping down into a vent, knowing, at the same time, their attackers in the forest really only left them one option.

He turned around and urged everyone to move on. The faster they found Jodie, the more likely they were to get out alive. As they searched for a sign of her, they picked up whatever useful items they could find, spending more time than they should in a cafeteria, breaking into vending machines.

Fueled by soda and snack food, they continued on, until they came to what appeared to be unoccupied offices. As he approached, Bob could hear voices near to him, maybe just in the next room, but couldn't see anyone through the windows lining the office walls. He held up his hand, signaling the group to hold up. He crouched down and crept over to one of the office doors, grabbed the handle and it turned. He pulled on it slowly, opening the door a few inches, keeping his head close to the floor, out of sight of the windows, trying to hear what was being said. Without warning, the door was ripped out of his hand and he fell forward. He rolled over to see a gun pointed in his face.

"I think that’ll be far enough," a man said. The overhead lights shone in his eyes and Bob could only make out the darkened silhouette of a figure behind a gun barrel. "On your feet," the man said.

"Okay, okay. Calm down. I’m getting up now. Who are you?" Bob thought if he could keep the man focused on his questions, he might be able to distract him somehow and grab the gun. A shot rang out, its sound waves stifled by the walls of the room. He felt a thudding impact in his temple. Then, he felt weightless for a moment, lighter than air, floating, finally landing hard on the floor.

Bob could hear a dog barking and tried to pick his head up to see what was happening. He saw a figure falling to the floor in front of him. He tried to stand, but couldn’t pull himself up. He heard more voices. The dog kept barking. He wondered why someone didn’t quiet that dog. The barking grew in intensity as a woman started screaming.

More shots rang out and Bob felt darkness overtaking him. The sound of growling and snapping roared in his head. He recognized Hunter on top of a man lying on the floor, the man’s arm in Hunter’s mouth, the dog viciously tugging and pulling the arm back and forth. Nick was there too, grabbing at the gun and slamming the man’s head against the floor until the man lay still. Bob could see another person splayed on the floor across the room, motionless.

Christy’s face appeared. He could tell she was talking to him, but he couldn’t answer. Slowly, he felt himself lift, moving upwards without the force of gravity burdening him. He could see the room from above and looked down on his body lying on the tiled floor. Bob watched as a dark liquid pooled around his head and flowed into the seams between the floor tiles. Christy and Nick were there, trying to stop the blood flow, to keep the life in his body, but Bob knew it was no use.

He loved them all like family. He loved his wife, Maria, but knew he wouldn’t be with her again. Not here. Bob let go and felt his connection to the physical world loosen slowly, like a knot untying, the frayed ends of a rope slipping past each other silently, the faces of the people he loved smiling and urging him on, saying farewell in their expressions. Old faces he knew from the past – his father who lost a battle with cancer two years ago, his best friend from high school, killed in a car accident when they were teenagers – greeting him, welcoming him home into the purest white light he could imagine. He didn’t feel sadness, only the acceptance that came with knowing his fate was determined. He greeted the light and felt it fill him up.

* * *

Isaiah crouched low next to the bed and pulled Evan down with him. Even underground, muffled by the walls of rock and office partitions, the sound of gunfire was easy to identify. "I have to check that out. You stay here," Isaiah said.

Evan nodded, crouching lower near the bed.

Isaiah scrambled out of the room, moving as fast as he could toward the noise ahead. He thought about what Bonnie Martin told him and Evan, realizing they were both telling him the same story. There was no denying reality any more. As he ran down the corridor, he heard a dog barking and a scuffle escalating. More shots rang out and Isaiah broke into a sprint. The noise quieted and Isaiah slowed, trying not to announce his presence. He crept toward a room and looked in the window. Nick stood before him, gun in hand, tears streaming down his face. "Nick, it’s me, Isaiah," he whispered.

Nick looked startled and raised his gun. He lowered it when he saw Isaiah’s face, then pushed the door open, motioning Isaiah into the room. "Oh man, it’s good to see you, but, Bob … he …" Nick’s jaw trembled and he covered his mouth with his hand.

Isaiah looked down and felt nauseous. Two men dressed in camouflage lay on the floor. They appeared lifeless. He turned to see Bob lying on the floor in a pool of blood, his body still. A woman was kneeling by Bob's side. Isaiah rushed over to Bob, bent down and felt for a pulse. His heart sank when he found none.

"I'm Isaiah Thomas. I'm an FBI Agent. I work with Bob and Jodie. What happened?" he asked.

Motioning toward the men in camouflage, Christy said, "We ran into these guards, or whatever these people are, and they just started shooting. They shot Bob with no warning at all. He’s gone."

Isaiah looked around the room. "Where is everyone else?"

"I’ll go get Noah," Nick said. "We left him back in the hall in a closet when we first heard voices. We got separated from Jodie, Mei and Leah a couple of hours ago and haven’t been able to find them." Nick walked out of the room and into the darkened hallway, trailed by Hunter.

"I'm Christy St. John. Noah is my son."

Isaiah turned Bob’s head to the side. "It looks like he was shot at pretty close range. These people are executioners." He glanced at Christy, who began to quietly sob and immediately regretted his words. "I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that."

Christy wiped her face on her sleeve. "No, you’re right. These people are monsters."

Isaiah pulled the gun out of Bob’s holster, stood up, and held out a hand to Christy. "We have to get out of here. No telling who heard the gunshots. I don’t want to be here when they come to find out what’s going on."

Nick walked in the room, carrying Noah, the boy’s face buried in his chest, the sound of his sobs muffled. He held Noah's head close to his body, preventing him from seeing the scene before them. "I told him about Bob. Let's get out of here."

"Shouldn't we do something with Bob ... I mean, should we cover him?" Christy said.

"Yes, but we should probably hurry," Isaiah said.

"I'll look for something." Christy pulled open cabinet doors and drawers, finding a sheet. She covered Bob. "Okay, let's go."

"They might have reinforcements on the way," Isaiah said. "How are you set on weapons and ammunition?"

Nick held one gun in his hand behind Noah's back and motioned downwards, where he had another stuffed in his belt. "I grabbed the handguns off of the guys who attacked us. I’m ready."

"We’ve got company down the hall we need to pick up," Isaiah said.

"Who’s that?" Nick asked, holding the door open.

"Old friends. Follow me." Isaiah moved quickly down the hallway toward the medical room, wiping the tears clouding his vision. He pushed his grief for Bob to the furthest corner of his mind he could find. He knew he didn't have the luxury of expressing his sadness or anger right now. He turned to see Nick and Noah lagging behind. "We have to move faster."

"I have to set you down now, buddy. You hold your mom's hand, okay?" Nick gently lowered Noah to the ground next to Christy and they headed up the hall toward Isaiah.

As they approached the medical room, Isaiah glanced back at Noah, whose eyes were fixed on the floor. "Noah, I think you’ll want to see where we’re headed."

Noah picked his head up, a questioning look on his face. His gaze gradually moved from Isaiah to the window into the next room where a boy about his age lay in bed. Isaiah could see the recognition in his expression as Noah started running.

Watching Noah reunite with his friend was comforting for a moment, until Isaiah saw something that troubled him. Evan Watts was gone.

* * *

Evan could hear voices in the distance. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, recalling Helen's and Jodie's voices from a different time. From the time he thought they were happy. He remembered their vacation at the rented lake cottage, where he taught Jodie to sail. It was just a dinghy and she was only seven years old, but she handled the boat like a seasoned mariner. On the second day at the lake, she was sailing by herself, he and Helen following in their aluminum fishing skiff with the smoky outboard motor, laughing and holding hands, watching their daughter take control of the wind.

He couldn't really remember when Helen changed. Perhaps, he thought, he preferred only to remember the day when they brought Jodie home from the hospital, a drooling bundle of joy that barely cried and laughed constantly as she grew older. He hated himself for letting Jodie be hurt by the choices he and her mother made. He found himself wishing he'd taken action sooner, maybe even twenty-five or six years ago when their lives turned so sour. But he was here now, at least.

Evan pulled out his gun, laughing at himself, thinking how he'd bought it for only one purpose and never really even learned how to use it. If all went well, maybe he wouldn't even hurt himself during the process of killing his ex-wife, but if he had to die to get the job done, he was prepared for the sacrifice. Just no more pain for Jodie. Evan walked down the hall and opened the door. Looking at the surprised expressions in the faces of his ex-wife and daughter, he raised his gun, thinking this was, indeed, an odd way to conduct a family reunion.