Turn or Burn (30 page)

“This way!” I followed Jacobs into another room and found a box of shells on the table. Was that a sign of good fortune to come? I loaded up. We had no idea how many men were up those stairs but had to move quickly. Like everything else, time was not on our side.

I motioned to Jacobs to cover me and ran out of the dining room back into the hall, working my way to the wooden stairs. A man saw me up top and hid back behind a wall. As I was about to make my move, someone pushed open the front door, coming in from the porch. Jacobs came out of nowhere and smashed his shoulder into the door, knocking the people back. He twisted the dead bolt.

“Ain’t coming in this way, fuckers!” he said, as the zombies on the other side began to kick it down.

“I’m going up,” I said.

“Go! I gotcha.”

A window broke downstairs. They’d found another way in.

Trusting the fact that I was the most battle-hardened person in the building, I had a feeling that by staying aggressive, I could stay alive. Whoever was up those stairs had probably not ever been shot at before. They weren’t used to the adrenalin rush. How draining it could be. How it could confuse you.

So, taking a chance, I started up the stairs, firing the shotgun every couple of steps. I would certainly run out of shells but at least I could get to high ground. The stairs creaked below me as the shotgun cracked and holes exploded in the wall at the top. I heard more shots below and knew Jacobs had run into trouble.

Jameson Taylor appeared at the top and fired at me a couple times. I didn’t bother ducking, just climbed the steps faster and fired back. I fired again and again until I was out of ammo. The symptoms of my PTSD were trying to get at me—the blurry thoughts, the blurry vision, the flashbacks, the increased intensity—but I pushed them away and reached deep down into my soul for focus. Too many lives were at stake. I couldn’t let them win. I couldn’t let
it
win. I reached the top and didn’t slow down.

Jameson was waiting on me. He fired, and I tried to dodge it, but he got me in the arm. A sear of pain ran up my left side. I didn’t have time to even think about it. I threw my good arm out in front of me and batted away his gun. It fired into the ceiling as I tackled him onto the wood floor of the hall at the top of the stairs. He hit hard and lost his breath. I swung a few punches that hit their mark, busting his face up nicely. He was damn strong, though—old-man strength if you know what I mean—and he pushed me off him. Lying on his back, he kicked me several times with those heavy boots. One of the kicks hit my left arm, the one that had been shot. It hurt like hell. Another kick got me in the temple.

I finally caught his foot and tried to break it. Just as I was about to snap a bone, someone started yelling at me. “Get off him!” It was the Canadian.

I kept twisting the leg and Jameson yelled. The Canadian fired a shot into the floor. “Get off him now!”

“Shoot him, you fool!” Jameson yelled.

I turned just as the Canadian pointed the gun right between my eyes.

It was a good try, Harper. You did your best.

I saw movement. Jacobs was coming around the corner up the stairs. He’d been quiet about it. And he saved my life. He fired a shot at the side of the Canadian’s head and he was gone. It wasn’t pretty.

The body dropped on top of me, the gun still in his hand. I reached down the length of his arm, feeling for it. Not in time, though. I heard a shot and turned to see Jacobs falling backwards. Jameson had gotten him.

I didn’t bother peeling the gun away. Instead, I wrapped my hand around the Canadian’s fingers and aimed at Jameson. But Jameson was already firing a shot.

The Gods were on my side that day, though. The bullet shot into the body of the Canadian, embedding into his chest with a thud. I didn’t give Jameson time to fire another one. I shot at his face.

But I missed and Jameson was up and moving toward me, getting ready to fire again. I didn’t miss the second time. The bullet entered Jameson Taylor’s right eye and he was dead instantly.

I pushed the Canadian off me and got to my knees, heaving for breath. I looked down at Detective Jacobs. A stream of blood was soaking his pants.

He was panting as he looked up at me. “Get Abner,” he said. “I’m okay.”

“The hell you’re okay.”

“Go!”

I didn’t hesitate. Grabbing a gun, I ran down the hall toward the tower. I reached a closed door. Thinking it might be the way upstairs, I twisted the knob; it was unlocked.

Luan Sebastian was in a robe, her right leg chained to a large wooden bed. She was lying on top of the covers. There was Duct tape across her mouth. She peeled her eyes open and I saw defeat and sorrow. I cleared the room, making sure no one else was in there, and then said to her, “I’ll be back. You’re safe.” I reached out and touched her leg to try to comfort her, but she jerked away. I had no doubt that Abner had raped her.

Going back into the hall, I finally found the stairs leading up to the tower. They were at the far end. Moving cautiously, I went up the twenty stairs and reached a locked door.

I kicked it open, expecting to see Abner holding Francesca hostage. That is not what I saw at all.

Francesca was tied down. He’d stripped her naked. Like Luan, a strip of tape covered her mouth. Our eyes met.

A savage rage came over me.

I let go of the gun and it hit the floor as I nearly flew across the room and onto the bed. Abner had already figured out that he would have to kill me to get any further. He was sliding off the other end as I came over the bed after him. I reached for him with my good arm but missed as he disappeared onto the floor. I scrambled over Francesca and fell on top of him. He was pulling a gun up but he didn’t have a chance.

I ripped the gun from his hands and hit him in the ear with it, and he fell onto his back, losing consciousness.

I pushed myself up and went to her, wishing I could cradle her in my arms like a child and take her home. How could something so evil happen to someone like her? It was terrifyingly sad to see those brown eyes, so damaged by what had happened. Yet
sad
doesn’t come close to capturing it. I wanted to break down right then but I couldn’t. Beside the fact that I had lost touch with being human, I still had a job to do.

“It’s over,” I said, putting my hands on her cheeks. “I’m here now.”

She acknowledged me with her eyes, and I saw a strength that, in my entire life, I had seen only a few times. What a woman. What a soldier. I kissed her on the forehead.

The string had cut harshly into her wrists as she had attempted to fight her way out, something I’d experienced at the cabin. I pulled at the string but it wouldn’t break. I looked around for something I could cut with, knowing I had to get her out of there. There was no telling how many more were after us. The house was still echoing with gunshots.

“You still there, Jacobs?” I yelled down the steps.

“Yeah!”

“Buy me some time.”

He answered with his gun.

I went to the pile of clothes on the floor and went through Abner’s pockets. Found a set of keys and a phone. I used the keys first and sawed through the string. She sat up once I freed her arms. She peeled the tape off and took some deep breaths.

I cut the string around her ankles next, and she was finally free. She started to get up, and I grabbed her leg and squeezed hard.

“Are you with it right now?” I asked. “I need you to be with it.”

“I’m all right.”

And I knew she was. “More of them are downstairs. We need to be smart. Okay?”

She nodded and climbed off the bed. I turned back to Abner as Francesca dressed. He was coming back to life, his eyes opening and his hand moving to his face. Using the same string he’d used to tie up Francesca, I tied his wrists to a leg of the bed. He wasn’t going anywhere without ripping his hands off.

I went for the phone, an iPhone no doubt. Oh, the irony. I found the map and GPS’d my location, never having loved technology more in my life.

When the 911 operator picked up, I said, “My name is Harper Knox. I have a critical situation right now. Many lives are at stake. Detective Coleman Jacobs has been shot.”

“What’s your location, sir?”

I told her and said, “A group of people are about to set off a series of car bombs around Seattle. I don’t know where yet. I’m hoping I will soon. You need to get the bomb squad, SWAT, anyone who can mobilize. Have them ready. I’m going to try and get the locations. Stay on the line. I’m setting the phone down.”

I didn’t bother waiting on her response. I threw the phone on the bed and looked at Francesca. “Go downstairs and help Jacobs hold them off. I’ll get Abner to talk.”

“No, I’ll take care of Abner. I’ll get the locations.” She wasn’t going to let me argue.

I joined Jacobs, taking position on the other side of the steps. He was hanging in there. The men below were still coming up, no care for their own lives, destined to save their savior. I killed two more of them, and the bodies down below were piling up. I leaned against the wall. “Let me see your wound.”

Jacobs raised his hand a little. The bullet had entered his hip.

“You keep your hand on it,” I said, “and you’re going to be fine.”

“Don’t act like you Green Berets know more about getting shot than the police. I know I’ll be okay.”

“I like you, Jacobs.”

The zombies stopped coming up the stairs for a minute. We sat there in silence. Then I heard the first scream. It was Abner in the bedroom. Another scream, and then howling. Near guttural roars. Francesca was having her way with him. It was hard to listen to.

Sirens finally sounded in the distance, and I started to have some hope that we might get out of there.

“It’s done,” she said. “Nine locations. I told the operator. I think we stay out of the rest of it.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Jacobs agreed. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Is he alive up there?” I asked Francesca.

Francesca’s face darkened and without any emotion, she said, “I don’t know.”

“I have one more question for him. Be right back.”

I ran up the stairs to the tower. The bedroom door was open. Abner was on his knees, crying. There was a path of blood where he’d crawled across the floor. Good God, what had she done to him? I felt no pity, though. Believe me.

Using my foot, I pushed him over and he tumbled helplessly onto the hardwood, like a submissive animal. He put his bloody hands up and begged, “Please…no more.”

“You said you didn’t kill Dr. Kramer. Who did?”

He was so shaken up that I wasn’t sure he could hear me. I put my foot on his rib cage and pushed hard. He shouted in pain and grabbed my foot with both hands. Keeping my voice calm, I said, “Who killed Dr. Nina Kramer?”

“Luan.”

I had been thinking that something was off about Kramer’s death, how the method of murder didn’t match the others, so I decided to go with it, though what he said sounded slightly absurd. “Tell me more. Tell me everything.”

His words came out broken, his sentences detached. “We’d been watching Dr. Sebastian and his family for weeks before the Summit. We knew he was having an affair with Kramer. My people followed them to a bed-and-breakfast in Anacortes. Luan had followed them, too. But she didn’t do anything about it. Just watched them from her car for a few minutes and then drove away. When I heard Kramer had been killed by blows to the head, it didn’t take me long to figure things out. Luan had finally gotten her revenge.”

I pushed down on his ribs again, coming close to cracking them. “You’re lying.”

“No. No! She admitted it to me tonight. Think about it. It was the perfect opportunity to kill Kramer. After what had happened the day before with Dr. Sebastian, Luan knew people would immediately suspect us.”

It was making sense…too much sense to be a lie. “So you claimed responsibility so that you could have her for yourself.” I wasn’t asking.

He nodded yes and I walked out the door, hoping I’d never see his face again.

Over the course of the next week, they caught almost everyone involved. Abner went to jail. Jameson Taylor and the Canadian were gone forever, perhaps meeting their maker. Thirty of the others were still out there but they’d eventually turn up; many had turned themselves in. The biggest discussion at the moment was where the children involved would go. They’d been brainwashed badly and there wasn’t much hope for them.

During that time, we had slowly put some of it together. Abner had raped Luan but hadn’t quite gotten his chance with Francesca.

She saved a lot of people by doing what she did, and I would have done the same. That’s why we were both contractors. We bend the rules and sometimes we ignore them. But we get the job done.

I may never be a religious man, but I do believe in good and evil, and I know deep down that Abner was evil.

The strangest turn of events was what they found in the compound. As he had told me, Abner and his crew had been watching Dr. Sebastian for quite some time and had been videotaping him. The cops found a video of Sebastian and Kramer doing something in a parked car that wasn’t part of their research for the Fusion Project, if you know what I mean. On my lead, prosecutors were searching for evidence that Luan had been involved in the murder of Dr. Kramer. Abner, of course, was now denying what he had told me the day before. Maybe she’d get justice one day, but there didn’t seem to be much of a case. Stories don’t always wrap up nicely. Poetic justice is not always served.