Terror Rising: Book 0 – The Insurgence (4 page)

“The chief said for us to stay put,” Angela
said.

Martinez looked down at his legs and then to
her. “Does it look like I’m going anywhere?”

With that, he unlatched the door and pulled
it open with little effort. Martinez was eager to see inside, past
the darkness. Angela walked closer, peeking in. Her eyes adjusted
to the dim light, but saw nothing inside. The cargo bed was
completely empty. Martinez stared in with a look of disbelief.

“What is this shit?” he said under his
breath.

The fifteen-foot cargo bed was startling
empty.

“Maybe the station wagon had the narcotics,”
Angela suggested, trying to get Martinez back on track.

He took a step back and rubbed his head. The
first shooter’s body lay only a few feet away from them with a hole
in the side of his big forehead. Blood spatter had hit the side of
the truck next to the indentation made by one of Martinez’s first
shots.

As he walked away from the truck, in deep
thought, Angela wanted to pull him aside and ask what the plan was.
She wanted to ask why he had been so determined to approach the men
without backup. Now was not the time for him to grow aloof. They
needed each other more than ever.

“Should we work on our story?” she asked,
walking toward him.

“We tell them the truth,” he said, turning
away from her.

“The truth?” Angela said, confused. “The
truth is that we left our post and pursued this truck without
backup. You have years under your belt, sir. What’s going to happen
to me, a rookie?”

Martinez pivoted around, extending an arm
toward her. His pistol was finally holstered. “Nothing is going to
happen to you, Agent Gannon. This was my call, and I’ll take
responsibility.”

His words were comforting, but it didn’t
make her feel better about the situation. In clear view now, she
could see a line of Border Patrol vehicles speeding down the dirt
road beyond the valley, approaching them with their lights rapidly
flashing. The cavalry had indeed arrived.

Taking a closer look at the first shooter’s
body, Angela could see that he was distinctively Middle Eastern.
His clothes were plain and baggy, and he was wearing sandals.

Martinez walked away from the truck and
toward the line of patrol vehicles tearing off the road and
traveling toward them—five in all. Before anyone arrived, Angela
crouched beside the man and felt his pants pocket for a wallet or
ID. There was nothing.

His still hand clutched a 9mm Glock pistol.
Clues were bound to be found somewhere. As Angela stood up and
surveyed the empty truck, she was almost certain that the station
wagon was the real vehicle they wanted. Only it was the one vehicle
that had wisely gotten away.

Dawson’s white Ford Crown Victoria led the
pack as he slowed to a halt with top sirens flashing wildly but
silent. A large cloud of dust covered the area like a blanket,
causing Angela to cough. So little was known of why she and
Martinez were there and what happened. She hoped that he’d do most
of the talking. Doug would be upset with her, and she pondered how
much to tell him about the incident at the end of the day.

Chief Drake exited the second vehicle,
another white Tahoe, slamming the door. Other agents soon followed.
He went immediately to Martinez, who was already busy explaining
himself. Drake’s slightly wrinkled face was red with anger. His
thinning and short gray hair blew to one side in a gust of wind
from the approaching storm.

Dawson walked toward the truck where Angela
stood with Captain Reynolds, a female agent from the K-9 unit. Rex,
her K-9, hurriedly moved along as she held his leash. Angela walked
toward them, hoping to bypass their questions and just link up with
Martinez instead. Dawson, it seemed, wouldn’t have any of it.

“
Are you okay?” he asked first,
observing the body on the ground behind her with widened
eyes.

“
I’m fine,” Angela responded while
wiping dirt from her face.

“
I sure hope so. What have you guys
gotten yourselves into?”

Dawson was nearly Angela’s age, and had a
goofy overbite and short hair parted in the middle. Everyone at the
station called him “kid,” a term he resented at times. Captain
Reynolds was a slightly older redhead with freckles, blue eyes, and
a mouth that seemed set in a perpetual straight line.

“
Looks like a real mess,” she said to
Angela, surveying the scene. The K-9 ran toward the man’s body only
to be jerked back.

Angela nodded at their comments and then
pointed to the road. “Their friends got away in a station wagon.
Something was about to go down, I’m certain of it.”

Dawson nodded. “I don’t doubt it. Who shot
first?”

Angela tilted her head, finding offense in
the question. “They did, of course.”

“
Agent Gannon,” Chief Drake’s booming
voice called out as he approached with Martinez at his side. She
turned and struggled to make eye contact with her clearly perturbed
supervisor.

“
Yes, sir,” she replied.

“
Captain Martinez said the men spoke
in Arabic. Were there any other things you picked up about them
before… well, before the two of you decided to play Dirty
Harry?”

She looked at Martinez for guidance. He
nodded at her to answer. “It’s like I told Captain Martinez: the
unlicensed truck was the giveaway.” She then turned and glanced at
the body behind them. “As far as the men go, they look like
lower-level help. They came here to pick something up.”

“
Or drop something off,” Dawson added
as the K-9 busily sniffed around the truck with Reynolds holding
the leash.

“
Truck’s empty,” Martinez said with an
air of disappointment.

Other Border Patrol agents
approached the scene, looking around with intense curiosity. With
all eyes on the truck and bodies lying next to it, Drake stepped
between Martinez and Angela, his voice low but tinged with
sternness. “I want to have a word with
both
of you at the station when we
get back. This entire incident is going to have to go beyond our
department. If these men are foreigners, we’ll have to bring in the
FBI. But I don’t want either of you saying a word of this to
anyone. Not until we get the facts out.”

Martinez cut in. “Sir, these individuals
were operating right within our line watch. We were only responding
to the high alert that was issued by the department.”

Drake whipped his head to
the side, further angered. “You can save it for the investigation,
Martinez. And yes, there
will
be an internal investigation into this matter,
and we
will
get
to the truth. All of it!”

The K-9 hopped into the back of the truck,
going wild. Reynolds climbed up in with him, and Dawson
followed.

“
Sir,” Angela said to Chief Drake, who
turned to her with an icy glare. “I have a good description of the
station wagon that fled the scene. I’d suggest we get an APB on it
as soon as possible.”

“
Yes, Martinez told me all about it.
The APB has been issued, and if that wagon gets away, I’m holding
the two of you personally responsible.” With that he walked away
and joined the others at the truck, leaving Angela and Martinez to
ponder their fates. She had never seen him so angry, and didn’t
feel the least bit optimistic about it.

Seeing the color leaving her face, Martinez
placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Agent Gannon. It’s
like I said. I’ll take the hit on this one.”

“
I don’t think we did anything wrong,”
Angela said. Whether she was trying to convince him or herself of
that she wasn’t sure.

“
The truck is empty. That’s what’s
wrong,” Martinez said. “Had there been at least a brick of
marijuana, we’d probably be in the clear.”

But perhaps Martinez had spoken too soon.
From the inside of the truck, Rex clawed and whimpered at the
floor. Curious, the other agents gathered around, sticking their
heads inside.

“
I need a flashlight and a crowbar,”
Captain Reynolds called out.

Angela felt her heart beating faster.
Anticipation was in the air. Dawson hopped out of the truck, ran
past Angela and Martinez, and grabbed both a crowbar and a
flashlight from his trunk.

“
This could get interesting,” Martinez
said, beckoning Angela to follow him to the truck, where everyone
crowded at the back. More thunder rumbled in the sky, but there
wasn’t a drop of rain. Dawson ran back with a long crowbar in one
hand and a flashlight in the other. He squeezed past two other
agents and hopped inside the vehicle.

“
I need room here,” he said to Captain
Reynolds. “Get Rex back.”

She took the flashlight from him, shining it
at the metal floor while tugging on the leash to pull Rex back.

“
What do you see?” Chief Drake asked,
leaning in.

Martinez pushed his way through and hopped
up, leaving Angela behind to watch with the others. He went to his
knees and immediately began feeling around. “Dawson’s right.
There’s something here.” He paused and felt around some more. “The
surface… it’s hollow underneath.”

“
Stand back,” Dawson said.

Martinez moved out of the way as Dawson
drove the crowbar into one of the joints in the floor and pushed up
with all his might, breathing hard. At first, nothing budged. He
pulled the crowbar out and jammed it in again, pushing up and
leaning on the end for leverage. A pop sounded, and the metal panel
on the floor split open.

Captain Reynolds held the flashlight above
them, shining it into the hole.

“
What is it?” the chief said,
squinting behind his glasses.

Angela looked over the shoulders of her
fellow agents, staring down into the hidden compartment. She could
see it as well as everyone else: multiple canisters aligned in
rows.

“
Canisters,” Martinez replied. “At
least a dozen of them.” More eager than ever, he stood up and
grabbed the flashlight from Captain Reynolds.

Rex pulled toward the hidden compartment,
whimpering with intensity. Martinez then leaned down and flashed
the light into the hole to reveal dozens of plastic bottles lined
up in rows like a shelf at the grocery store.

“
Hydrogen peroxide,” Martinez
continued. “A shitload of it.”

Dawson pointed to a sealed metal case among
the bottles. “What’s that say?”

Martinez shined the flashlight across the
letters, which read, “acetone.”

“
My God,” Dawson continued.

“
Chemicals,” Martinez said as he
turned to the group. He stood up and handed the flashlight to
Captain Reynolds and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“
No narcotics?” Chief Drake asked.
“What are we dealing with here?”

“
Looks like a dirty bomb, Chief,”
Martinez replied with his hands on his hips. “Or at least the right
ingredients.”

A hushed silence came over the agents, soon
followed by a commotion of side conversations. Angela could barely
believe it herself. Had the men they shot been terrorists? The
notion seemed more likely as she stared into the hidden
compartment. Martinez quickly hopped out of the truck with a sense
of urgency.

“
Everyone needs to keep their
distance,” he said, waving at Dawson and Reynolds to follow him
outside. “I mean it. Stay the hell away from this truck. We don’t
know what else is in it.”

“
Captain Martinez is right,” Chief
Drake added. “We need to get back and get a HAZMAT team in here
pronto.”

The team seemed to agree, and everyone began
backing away, keeping a careful distance between themselves and the
truck.

“
Where’s Dawson?” Chief Drake asked,
looking around.

Angela was curious herself. She’d thought he
was right behind her. It got quiet, and they could hear movement
coming from the shadows in the truck.

“
Dawson, what the hell are you doing?”
Drake shouted. “Get out of there!”

“
Hold on, sir,” Dawson called out.
“There’s another panel here. Another compartment. I can almost lift
it.”

Martinez stepped forward, angered. “Did you
hear the chief? Get out of there before you—”

The explosion was surreal, silencing
everything in a violent eruption that shook the ground. Angela
couldn’t hear. One deafening blast and everyone hit the ground. The
force threw her down onto the dirt. She could feel searing heat
traveling within inches of her face. She closed her eyes and saw
nothing but dim shades of orange. When she opened them, she could
see an immense fireball launching into the sky, with the echo of
the blast traveling farther and farther and fading into the
desert.

Smoke and fire enveloped the site, and it
was at that moment when she finally comprehended that something
terribly wrong had just happened.

Fallout

The box truck burnt away, engulfed in
flames, with little remaining but its frame. Angela rose to her
feet on wobbly legs. She could still feel the heat of the blast,
warm and vivid.

Other agents, Chief Drake and Captain
Martinez among them, stood up in a daze, feeling their heads and
turning to the hypnotic dancing flames in the distance. Thick black
smoke flowed upward as ashes rained down all around them. Pieces of
metal, plastic, wire, and glass lay scattered on the ground. The
truck’s charred frame continued to burn with the shooters’ bodies
no longer around.