HALLOWED BE THY NAME

James Somers

www.jamessomers.net

Exclusive Kindle Version

1 PROWARD STREET STATION

Only an idiot would dare travel through Donalee at night. That’s what Dr. Trenton Hallowed had read in today’s newspaper. A tall man of slim build and dark hair opened the door of his Lexus sedan, stepping into the street at the intersection of Walnut and Vineyard. New-car-smell segued into the moist scent of late evening, after the rain. He toggled the trunk switch. The lid popped open. Trenton placed his key set in the pocket of his suit pants and removed a knee length white lab coat, folding it up as he walked around to the rear bumper and set it inside. A Genetic Corp employee pass-badge lay clipped on the front pocket, face up.

Trenton removed a brown suit jacket from the trunk and pulled it on. He paused a moment to wipe his wire-rimmed glasses with a monogrammed white handkerchief, then seated them securely upon the bridge of his nose with an after-push. He retrieved a beige fedora and black leather briefcase, capping his outfit before closing the trunk lid.

Trenton scanned the area, then crossed Vineyard Street, reaching into his pocket to depress the keychain. The hazard lights on the Lexus flashed behind him, with a chirp, as he stepped up onto the sidewalk. Rainwater splashed his hat brim as he passed under the streetlight. To his right, a digital billboard flashed the date and time between advertisements. Trenton scanned the Rolex on his left wrist. His timepiece read two minutes fast at 10:30 p.m.

Trenton opened one of the glass double doors to the Vineyard Street Subway Station and walked inside. This late in the evening, the station was virtually abandoned. Custodians operated sweepers while a few others waxed the floor. Walking through the station, he noticed how impeccably clean everything was.

The marble floor showed very little signs of wear, as did the costly leather couches and mahogany tables sitting in the vestibule. The custodians performed a duty, not a necessity. Only then did Trenton consider that most people living in Imperial City’s Borough of Hilton didn’t need public transportation. It held a stigma here.

As Trenton approached the turnstiles, he saw a burly security officer leaning against one of two attendant booths. One stood dark. The other housed a lone female attendant, with curly blonde hair, engaged in conversation with the officer. They seemed surprised to see anyone actually coming into the station, especially at this time of night.

“Good evening, sir,” the security officer said, straightening. Trenton wondered if all he did every night was stand there talking to the pretty girl in the attendant booth. “Would you like an escort?” the man asked.

“No, thank you.” Trenton kept his fedora angled down, shadowing his facial features. He passed his right hand over the turnstile sensor and it automatically scanned the Hilton identification band on his ring finger. A green light on top of the turnstile flashed. Trenton walked through unhindered. “Have a lovely evening, sir,” the security officer said.

Trenton kept walking without reply. An escalator carried him down to the train platform. Two more security officers sat at a desk to his right. They were already looking at him by the time he cleared the short hallway leading onto the platform. He made a mental note of several camera mounts positioned in the ceiling corners. “Hello, sir,” one of the men said from behind the counter.

Trenton nodded to them, tugging on his hat brim. Neither of the guards showed enough interest to actually come over and investigate. He examined his watch again. It read 10:37 p.m.

A train howled, coming through the tunnel on approach to Vineyard Station. The automated train engine emerged from the tunnel, pulling five passenger cars. When the car doors opened with a hydraulic hiss, the yellow barrier gates followed suit. Five gates swung open, giving access to this lone passenger. Trenton boarded and sat down in the empty train car.

The computer controlling the train waited two more minutes, sounded an intent-to-board alarm bell, then closed the passenger cars. Trenton pulled a current newspaper from his briefcase, began reading, and waited. No other passengers had boarded while in Hilton, just as he had expected.

In a matter of minutes, the train covered miles of underground and overland track. It left the Borough of Hilton altogether—immediately entering the Borough of Branton. Trenton read with the pages held aloft, blocking his view from any passengers who might board. All he heard at each stop were the doors. He waited.

When the computerized female voice announced that his train had passed into the Borough of Donalee, Trenton’s palms began to sweat. This was it. His field experiment was about to happen. The train stopped at the Proward Street station—the same as the news article Trenton had read. The door hissed and opened. The smell of sweat and cigarette smoke invaded the train car along with several sets of footsteps.

Trenton’s newspaper exploded away from his hands, revealing four armed men—two with knives, one with a lead pipe, the last swinging a thick chain. Trenton noticed two overly made-up young women waiting outside the subway car door. One held a .38 caliber pistol—Saturday Night Special. Two of the men grabbed Trenton out of his seat and slung him out of the train onto the platform. Trenton stumbled, but did not resist. The doors closed back into place. Seconds later, the automated train left the station, leaving the famous geneticist behind.

Trenton stood on stained gray concrete in the midst of the four men and two women, on the Proward Station platform. Graffiti adorned every wall. “The wallet and briefcase, fancy pants!” one of the men insisted. Trenton searched for camera mounts, finding all of them torn down.

He smiled. Perfect.

2 CHAOS

Detective Michael Stamos depressed the button to roll down the passenger side window of his unmarked police cruiser. “Richard, do you have to smoke those things?” he asked. “You’re gonna get cancer.”

“I like lone wolf, and who says I’m looking?” Michael turned another corner, running through a red light—siren blaring outside and police lights flashing. “Besides, I’ve got you.”

“Now that’s scary,” Richard said, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah…I mean, if I want someone to nag me about what I’m doing, and where I’m going, I’ve got you. I don’t need a wife for that.”

Richard ran his thick fingers through his wavy gray hair. “Do we have any information on this one?”

“Just six dead bangers.”

“A Joy deal gone bad?”

“They’d have locked you up on that one.” A multitude of police lights flashed down the road ahead of them—a swarm of angry fireflies. “The guy was unarmed.”

“Yeah, but he was guilty,” Richard said.

“You know how that goes.”

“Would’ve been nice to get him when he was still just a two-bit punk,” Richard said, checking his sidearm beneath his beige sport coat. “Now nobody can get near him.”

Michael pulled up to the subway station at Proward Street. He and Richard got out of the car with their badges ready, just in case some rookie tried to stop them crossing the police line. They ducked under the black and yellow tape, walking through a nest of black and whites.

The two detectives entered the Proward Street Subway Station, passing several officers they knew well. An emergency entrance bypassed the turnstiles. All the traffic flowed through it. Michael and Richard walked through with several forensics technicians, following them down three flights of stairs to the large subway platform below.

Emergency lighting had been imported because most of the platform lighting had been damaged. Fluorescent bulbs still flickered. A uniformed police officer vomited into a station-labeled trashcan. “Oh, boy.” Richard sighed. “It’s gonna be one of those nights.”

“Nothing we haven’t seen before,” Michael said. As he and his partner entered the crime scene, Michael realized he was wrong.

Crime scene investigators and technicians worked like ants gathering food for the winter. The entire platform was showered with gore. Cameras flashed almost continually. Richard stood wide-eyed. Michael felt like joining the uniform at the trashcan.

The area had been taped off to prevent officers from messing up the crime scene. Michael and Richard remained behind it. The call involved six gang members. One, a female, lay dead with her own pistol shoved halfway inside her mouth. A Caucasian male had been wrapped like a horseshoe around a support pillar, with his back broken. An Asian gang member lay ten feet away, crumpled in a heap beneath a blood-smeared wall. It looked like he had been swung by his legs, repeatedly smashed into the wall of the Proward Station platform—his blood smearing the graffiti.

Another female lay on the dirty concrete floor—her body nearly unrecognizable as human. An African American male had been bludgeoned to a pulp—thrown up into the roof girders ten feet in the air.

A team worked feverishly to manually back up one of the automated passenger trains. When the men finally got it pushed back to the point where technicians could examine it, Michael saw evidence of the sixth gang member. All that remained of the man was the splash of crimson left on the front of the automated subway engine—the final resting place of a wayward insect.

“Who could’ve done this?” Michael asked.

“Or what?” Richard licked his lips as though he’d belched up something foul.

One of the crime scene investigators, Linda Phelps, signaled Detective Link to come through the tape barrier. “Hey, Mike, we’re in.”

The two detectives passed under the tape, cautiously making their way around technicians collecting forensic data. They walked over to the first female victim where Officer Phelps knelt, examining the body. “The gun was forced into her mouth through her teeth,” she said. “The killer broke her fingers, forcing her to pull the trigger.”

“One person did all this?” Richard asked.

“There is only one set of shoeprints, besides the victims,” Linda said. “My first impression was a loafer, or dress shoe, size eleven. Whoever did this is incredibly strong. The guy in the rafters is two hundred and twenty pounds, easy.”

3 MENTOR

“Why do I keep doing this?” Jonathan whispered. His breath condensed on the huge pane of two-way, mirrored glass in front of his face.

A still, small voice immediately reminded him, “Did I do any less for you upon the cross?”

A twinge of shame crept into his mind. Jonathan smiled. “Of course, you’re right, Lord.” He stared through the glass at the Black youth beyond. His frustration melted away, leaving only pity for the boy.

“Mr. Hallowed, we can only release Jay to you one more time,” a plain clothed police officer said, standing at the small room’s only table. He shuffled through the paperwork, checking the details for accuracy. “Judge Thompson has had it with this kid. If he runs again, he goes straight into Juvie.”

The officer peered through the window at Jay and another policeman having a conversation. “Honestly, I don’t know why you even bother with him anymore,” the officer said. “That kid has given up on life. You can’t change him.”

Jonathan turned on the policeman with a wounded look in his eyes. “You’re right, I can’t. But I know someone who changed my life. And he can change Jay.”

The policeman sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s your time. Do what you want.” He opened the door and Jonathan followed him out into the hall. “Go on in,” he said, opening the door to the adjacent room.

Jay turned in his chair, when Jonathan entered the interrogation room dressed in a finely tailored black suit, blue shirt, and blue-gray tie. The other officer, seated with Jay at the table in the center of the otherwise empty room, got up, following the first officer out. They closed the door behind them.

Jonathan walked around the table and stood before the young man. “I’m not playing around, Jay. The Judge is tired of messing with you. You’ve run three times. And now you get caught hacking into a banking system? What do you expect them to do, just keep turning you back over to me? Well, they’re not going to anymore. This is your last shot. If you blow this, they’ll ship you to Juvenile Hall. And believe me it won’t be in Hilton.”

Silence.

“I mean, if you had wanted money, you know I would have given it to you,” Jonathan said. “I’ve tried to give you anything you could want.”

Jonathan approached the table. “I didn’t take that from you, Jay. You ruined that for yourself, before I ever stepped into the picture. I’m just trying to help you get back on track. I want you to have a chance to make something of yourself before you ruin the rest of your life.”

Jay pushed the chair back and stood up. “Yeah? Why do you care, anyway? You need a tax write-off, or something…or just some poor black kid to give charity to so you can make believe you’re real?”

Jonathan stood silent for a moment, then said, “Those who are forgiven of much, love much.”

“What?”

“Those who are forgiven of much, love much. It’s something Jesus said. He’s forgiven me a whole lot of things, Jay, and yes, I do want to do my part. Not so I can look like somebody…so you’ll know that Jesus cares for you.”

“Man, don’t start that again,” Jay said.

“Sorry, man, it’s who I am.” Jonathan patted his chest. “I belong to him and this is what he’s given me to do, with his blessings. To whom much is given, much is required.”

Jay rolled his eyes. “Boy, you’re just full of those, ain’t ya?”

Jonathan walked back to the door, opening it for himself. “This is it, Jay. It’s either Silverspoon, or Juvenile Hall in Donalee. What’s your choice?”

Jay gave one more look around the room, then slugged over to the door. Jonathan reached out his hand, smiling big when Jay finally shook it. “All right then.”

The pair closed the door to the police interrogation room behind them.

4 CLUES

Detectives Stamos and Link walked into the security office of the Hilton Transit System, the electronic hub for Hilton’s subway trains. A man wearing an HTS monogrammed shirt and khaki trousers met them in the vestibule of the computer center. “Hello, may I help you?”

Michael produced his badge, holding it up for the man to see. “Detective Stamos, Donalee Homicide. This is my partner, Detective Link.”

“Harvey, we just want to be able to tell our captain that we tried,” Richard said, slurping out the last of his coffee drink, then tossing the cup in the waste basket next to Harvey’s desk.

“Well, I suppose.”

Michael and Richard both smiled innocently.

“Follow me, Officers.” Harvey led them through an adjacent glass door marked Mainframe Center. They walked through a cubicle system of computer stations, where people worked to maintain the transit system. Michael noticed a number of live security feeds displayed on flat screen monitors on the walls. Each of them was marked by the name of the station where the cameras were housed.

Harvey sat down at a workstation and began to call up the security files. “What day and time were you interested in seeing?”

“Well, the murders occurred between 11 p.m. and 11:30 p.m., last night. Let’s have a look about one hour before that. If the killer did travel on the train from Hilton, he would’ve needed some time to get all the way over to Proward Street Station,” Richard said.

“Well, I can already tell you, there won’t be very many people using the system during that time of night. The domestics are home by then. And most residents in Hilton use the HTS very little—especially so late.”

“The fewer people we’ll have to sift through,” Michael reasoned.

Harvey typed in the parameters for their search, waiting for the computer to recall the data. Video feed icon boxes filled the backlit screen, each with a still sample of video inside. “There are twenty stations in Hilton,” Harvey said.

“Let’s just take them alphabetically,” Michael said.

Harvey touched the cursor to the Acacia Street video feed icon, clicking to play the video for the appropriate time. The feed showed cleaning crews at work, but nothing else. Harvey seemed to be right, so far. When the video inside each station had finished, a street view began to play. Minimal traffic passed, but nothing more.

“You see?” Harvey said. “Hilton residents really don’t like using public transportation, if they can help it.”

Richard stared at the screen. “Let’s see the next one.”

The results were very similar—nothing of consequence. The next eighteen were all the same. Richard had started to pull his suit jacket back on, when Harvey commented on the current feed for Vineyard Street Station. “That’s odd,” he said.

“What is it?” Richard asked. He and Michael watched the screen over Harvey’s shoulders. The security manager used the cursor to back up the video in progress.

“Well, what do you know?” Michael said, smiling.

On the screen, a tall man, wearing a suit, and carrying a briefcase, walked into the Vineyard Street Subway Station. The time had been 10:33 p.m., when he approached the turnstiles. A security guard stood talking with the girl in the attendant booth. The guard spoke to the man, allowing him to go through. Then he returned to his conversation with the girl.

“How about the platform camera?” Michael asked.

Harvey selected the appropriate icon. On the screen, two security officers sat at a desk on the rear wall of the platform. The finely dressed patron stepped into view. The officers and the man acknowledged one another. Then the man waited for the next train, keeping his back to the security desk.

Michael smiled at his partner. “Process of elimination. Harvey, we’re going to check all of the platform video feeds from here, through Proward, and back again. I want to know this guy didn’t get off at any of those other places. That only leaves Proward Street.”

Harvey grinned. “I believe I can answer that, gentlemen. He passed his Ident Ring over the turnstile scanner, as he went through.” Harvey tapped on the keyboard and the computer delivered the name of the individual in question. “Dr. Trenton Hallowed.”

Michael and Richard looked at each other, grinning. “Gotcha.”

5 DETAINED

Trenton Hallowed rummaged through equipment and supplies inside a white walled roomed—the home of dozens of lab animals. He pulled on a black cage, amid a cacophony of rattles, squeaks, howls, and scratches. The acrid smell of multiplied animal scents mingled with the pungent aroma of feces and urine. The door burst open, revealing a young lady in a Genetic Corp lab coat, wearing a smile, and waving a piece of paper.

“We’ve had all of the other invites to R.S.V.P., sir,” she said.

“Thanks, Carol.” He lifted the large cage. “Come help me with this, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh yeah, of course.” Carol grabbed the other end of the wire cage, helping him place it on the countertop. Inside, a white rat scurried from one side to the other.

“Don’t worry, Larry, you’ll be practically immortal by tomorrow,” Trenton said to the rat. Then to Carol, “I knew none of my colleagues would miss out on this.”

“I’ll bet they’re eating their hats for not coming onboard with your research, when they had the chance.”

“Just as they should be, Carol. I gave them plenty of opportunity to explore man’s future evolution with me, but they tried to discredit my research, instead. I may have been ostracized, but now they’ll come crawling to see what I’ve accomplished.”

They set the cage down on the counter. Carol looked longingly at him. “Dr. Hallowed, I just want you to know how thrilled I am to help you with your research.”

Trenton moved closer to her. “You just hang on, Carol, and we’ll go to the top, together.”

She kissed him, passionately. He returned it.

The door to the lab opened and three men stood in the doorway. “Dr. Hallowed, I tried to stop them, but they say they’re police officers,” a lab assistant said.

“What? You men aren’t allowed in here. You’ll have to leave, now.”

Michael ignored him, and walked inside the room. “Dr. Hallowed, my name is Detective Michael Stamos. This is my partner, Detective Link. You’re wanted downtown for questioning, regarding the murders of several people in a Donalee subway station.”

“What in the world would I be doing inside a Donalee subway station? I’m a geneticist, not a garbage collector. I live in Hilton, Detective. There’s no one, but criminals, living in Donalee.”

“I happen to live there, Dr. Hallowed,” Michael said.

Richard smiled at Trenton. “Yeah, me too, and I’m here to collect some garbage.”

Trenton sneered at him. “Officers, you’re mistaken.” He smiled at them. “The only reason someone like me would ever go to Donalee is to get robbed.”

“We’ll see,” Michael said, stepping aside, gesturing for Trenton to accompany them out of the room.

“And if I refuse to go with you?”

Richard pulled his handcuffs out, letting them dangle in the air. “Then we get a warrant for your arrest and you’ll get to try out my set of charm bracelets.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to come along quietly and answer some questions?” Michael asked.

“Carol, I want you to call Jonathan and have him bring our family attorney down to the—”

“Station Five, on Hill Street,” Michael said, producing a card. He handed it to Carol, then turned back to Trenton. “After you, Doc.”

•••

Trenton waited in a police precinct interrogation room. He’d lost track of how long he had been there, but he knew they were watching him through the mirrored pane to his right. How stupid do they think I am?

He thought about standing up, marching over to the glass, pressing his nose against it, and making faces. But this wasn’t the time to push. The room smelled like sweat, causing Trenton to wonder what low-life piece of trash had been sitting in this chair before him. He sighed. Where is Jonathan?

Trenton turned to the glass and said, “Can we get on with this? I’m sure it’s very amusing for you to stand around behind two-way glass, hoping to psych me into some lame-brained confession, but you’re only wasting your time, and mine. And mine is worth three hundred dollars an hour.”

Trenton heard a door open and shut, outside. A moment later, Detective Link came into the room, carrying a steaming cup of coffee in each hand. He set one of them on the plain metal table, in front of Trenton. “I hope you like it black.”

“I don’t drink coffee, Detective,” Trenton said. His disdain was clearly written all over his face. “Can we get on with these questions you want to ask me?”

“Yeah, sure, Doc,” Richard said. “My partner is still pulling up some video from the platform cameras at the Proward Street Station. I think the pictures we’ve got there should help us wrap all of this up.”

“I wasn’t at the Proward Street Station, Detective. I believe I’ve already made that clear.”

“Oh, I know you have, but pictures don’t lie, do they, Doc?” Richard said.

Trenton smiled coolly. “They certainly don’t, Detective. As a matter of fact, I hope your partner is making a copy of the video, in question, for my lawyer, Harold Jameson.” Trenton paused for effect. “You two won’t be the first police officers Jameson has managed to remove from duty.”

Richard sat down in front of Trenton, in the only other chair in the room. “Now look, Doc, we’ve got video of your Lexus parked outside the station and you getting out of it, around 10:30 p.m., on the night in question. You went into the Vineyard Street Station and the turnstile computer tagged your Ident Ring.” He smiled. “And you do where a size eleven shoe, right?”

Trenton leaned forward, placing his forearms on the tabletop. “Mr. Link, if you were any sort of detective, you would know I reported my car stolen, three days ago. I keep some of my clothing in my trunk, in case I need to change at the lab. As for my ring, I don’t use public transportation, or any other public services, so I never wear it. It’s been sitting in my glove box, since the day I registered with my borough database.” He held up both hands, wiggling his fingers for emphasis—the ring was missing.

Richard leaned back in his chair, studying Trenton.

The door opened and a short, balding man entered the room, with Detective Stamos and two other men in tow. “What’s up, Captain?” Richard asked.

“My lawyer is here, Detective. That’s what’s up,” Trenton said, standing.

A burly man, with graying hair and a mustache, crossed before the police captain, walking toward Trenton. “I’m sorry it took so long, Trenton. This is a travesty!”

Harold ushered Trenton toward the door. “Let’s get you out of here. You can be assured, sirs, that this disgraceful conduct will not go unanswered.”

The captain glared at Richard and Michael. Trenton smiled at both Detectives and gave them a short wave of his fingers, punctuating his victory, before exiting the interrogation room. “Goodbye, Detectives.”

6 NO WITNESSES

Captain Monahan walked into his office, breathing heavily through flared nostrils. Richard and Michael followed. “Close it behind you, Stamos,” Captain Monahan said. He slapped a case file on his desk. “Stolen three days ago? Why didn’t you know that, before you dragged him in here?”

Michael closed the door and sat down in one of the two chairs sitting in front of Captain Monahan’s desk. He had not seen the captain this angry as often as Richard probably had, but he knew enough to keep quiet.

“Captain, I still think he’s our guy,” Richard said. “I feel it in my gut.”

“Your gut can’t win a trial, Link. Neither can purely circumstantial evidence. You bluffed him on the video at Proward, which we don’t even have, and now his blowhard lawyer will make us look like idiots, when we can’t produce it. Not to mention the fact, Hallowed clearly doesn’t have the build for committing this crime.”

“The CSI told us the killer is average size,” Michael said.

“The District Attorney will still laugh. How do you get a jury to believe a bookworm, like Hallowed, could do what this killer did to those punks?”

“Forget it, Stamos,” Captain Monahan said. “I don’t want harassment added to this. Now get out of here and keep digging for something we can use.”

•••

Detective Clair Stapleton pretended to type at her keyboard. She kept an eye on the office of Captain Monahan, with her fellow detectives inside. The earpiece she wore picked up every word, supplied by the bug she’d placed in the office, over two years ago.

Clair removed a coded cell phone from her purse and typed in a text message, containing the name of Stamos and Link’s suspect and where to find him. Ming will pay well for this information, she thought. When she completed the text, Clair waited for their conversation to end. Link and Stamos opened the office door and walked out, passing her desk.

“Hey, Clair,” Michael said. They looked haggard.

She smiled and pressed the send button.

•••

Richard waved to his partner, over the top of his car, as Michael drove away. It was now 11:00 p.m. He was disgusted by the whole affair. Richard understood Captain Monahan’s point. You can’t win a trial without hard evidence and Trenton Hallowed had been careful, so far, not to give them any. If he was as calculated as he appeared, he would soon strike again. Richard put the keys into the ignition of his Nissan, starting the engine.

Traffic was light this time of night and Richard longed to taste his wife’s cooking. He turned off the radio, watching street signs pass. Normally, he unwound on the drive home, but not tonight. Richard passed Seventh and Oneida, beginning to chip away at the foam on his steering wheel. An old hole grew bigger.

As he approached Tenth and Oneida, Richard prepared to turn toward home. He moved into the turn lane, checked his mirrors, then swerved back into the straight lane. He banged the steering wheel. “You’re crazy,” he said to himself, but kept driving away from home—his gut leading the way.

•••

Fifteen minutes later, Richard drove into the parking lot of the Hayes Community High School. He turned off his headlights, parking a good distance from the football field. The field lay shrouded in darkness, but not because it lacked lighting. Drug dealers frequented the football field at Hayes, conducting business after hours. That fact had been investigated in the papers, recently. If Hallowed is a vigilante, this would be a good place for him to find victims.

Richard walked out of the light cast by the school’s parking lot lamps, into the void hovering around the football field. As he drew closer, Richard noticed a parked car. He walked over to it. Lexus, just like the one on the video.

He heard a scream from the field’s direction. Three gunshots rang in staccato. Richard pulled his .357 Magnum from his shoulder holster. Another scream. It sounded like a man. Richard bolted toward the stadium gate, tripping over a parking curb. He gashed his knee and rolled across the gravel-strewn pavement, grimacing against the pain. I’m getting too old for this.

A woman screamed and was silenced. Richard fought against the pain, getting up again. He limped as fast as he could toward the gate, watching for parking stones by starlight. He reached the gate and paused. No screams. No voices at all.

Richard breathed deep and let half of it out. He rounded the gate and walked inside. He kept his Magnum in front of him with his right hand, using a Maglite with his left to illuminate his way. Richard walked toward the football field. Rows of bleachers loomed on either side. He scanned them with his light, walking through the middle, toward the field.

Richard reached the edge of the grass and stopped. His surroundings opened up, but the darkness hid all details from view. He pointed his weapon and light into the darkness. The flashlight beam was swallowed up in the expanse before him. He listened. Nothing.

Richard breathed and walked onto the field. His steps fell silent—cushioned by the manicured lawn. He supposed anyone sneaking up on him would also be silenced by it. Richard stopped, whipping around three hundred and sixty degrees. No one there. He continued walking further onto the football field.

Richard noticed something on the grass ahead of him. The closer he got, the more he realized it was a man. The man wore dark clothing, but did not move. When Richard came within fifteen feet, he spotted a dark stain around the body—blood. Richard’s hands began to tremble, causing the flashlight beam to quiver on the body.

The stadium lights came on above him, blinding him. Richard turned around, trying to find a target. As his vision focused again, he saw ten victims lying strewn around the field. Some may have tried to fight their attacker, while others clearly had tried to run. Most had weapons lying nearby, but none of them had made it.

Motion, near the white, press box caught Richard’s eye. The door on the left side had opened and now closed, very slowly. The door paused halfway, then slammed shut. Richard put his flashlight down, searching his pockets for his cell phone. He gritted his teeth and swore under his breath. He had left it charging on the car adapter.

Richard was alone. He surveyed the bodies again, before leaving them. Going back to the car was not an option. He didn’t want to take a chance on the perpetrator getting away.

Richard jogged forward, favoring the injured knee. He watched all directions, then stopped just beyond the grass. Before him, stood a set of concrete steps leading up to the entrance of the press box. Richard climbed slowly toward the long building, perched above the final row of bleachers.

Every other step brought an ache from Richard’s knee and a spike of fear down his spine. He kept the gun aimed ahead, his eyes darting from the bleachers to his destination. The door on the end of the rectangular building creaked and slowly swung open. Richard cocked the hammer on his gun. The wind had the door. It banged against the handrail, then swung away again.

Had the wind caused the motion in the first place? He couldn’t be sure, but it wasn’t likely. The wind certainly hadn’t killed those people. Richard thought of his wife. Would he ever see his Lily again? He breathed, mustering his courage. This was the job. He’d faced down countless murderers before. But none like this one. That thought echoed in his head. He started climbing the steps again.

Richard reached the handrail and the last set of steps leading up into the press box. The open doorway stood dark and ominous, before him. He breathed. “Dr. Hallowed?” he said, testing the waters. “This is Detective Link. I know you’re probably scared right now, but if you surrender peacefully, I’ll do everything I can to see you’re treated fairly.” He’s scared? Who am I kidding?

Something leaped at him from the doorway. Richard fired his handgun. An object hit him in the shoulder. He jumped back, scanning to see what had happened. A football, with a huge bullet hole in the side, wobbled on the bottom step. He stared wide eyed at the ball, gasping for breath. His heart stampeded inside his chest.

Laughter from the darkness. Richard’s weapon snapped to attention. He heard the voice, from somewhere on the far end of the building. Richard stumbled up the stairs, getting inside the door before he lost his courage. A bar of white, from the field lights, invaded the room through the main window, midway down the length of the building. Rather than help him see the perpetrator, the white light only served to blind him to the darkness beyond. Laughter again, but closer now.

Richard remembered his flashlight. He shined it down the length of the room. The beam blended with the light from the field. “Give it up, Doc. You don’t have to do this,” Richard said.

“Have to?” the voice mused. “I want to.”

The voice sounded different than Trenton Hallowed—deeper, menacing. Something moved across the room, just beyond the light. Richard fired three times. The man cried out in the darkness. A loud thump on the floor. Got him!

Richard’s heart raced with excitement. He found a light switch on the wall, toggled it, nothing happened. He stepped toward the light coming through the window. He slid his back along the large window pane, trying to avoid the killer getting behind him. Richard’s shadow cast along the floor, a huge version of himself, with his gun at the ready.

He searched the room beyond, trying to see where the killer had fallen. Another shadow rose up, swallowing his on the wall. Shadow hands outstretched, ready to take him. Richard fired before realizing the man must be behind him. He turned.

Shatterproof glass exploded toward him. Richard fired his last two shots. Powerful arms fastened to his body, heaving him out of the building, over the rows of metal bleachers. He flailed against the air, screaming, the world tumbling around him. Landing near the first row of bleachers, Richard Link became victim number eleven.

7 AFTERMATH

Michael Stamos wiped a stray tear from his cheek, watching the Coroner’s technicians place his partner, Richard Link, into a body bag. He thought about Richard’s wife, Lily. She had woke him in the night, wanting to know why her husband had not come home.

Michael turned away, as the techs worked to disentangle Richard’s broken leg from the metal bleachers. The press box stood above him, fragments of its main window clinging to the edges of the frame. Forensics officers worked within—bees in a hive, collecting essential data. Richard’s gun had been found near his body. All six rounds had been spent, yet not one drop of the killer’s blood had been found.

Michael turned, when he heard the zipper on the body bag behind him. He caught a final glimpse of Richard Link’s face, before it was swallowed by heavy plastic. “Goodbye, old man,” he whispered. “I thought you told me you were invincible.”

Michael flipped Richard’s badge over in his hand. He noticed a smudge of blood and wiped it away with his thumb. He couldn’t give it to Lily like that.

Michael looked out over the football field. Some of the other bodies had already been removed, but not all. They had been dealing Joy, when it happened—another vigilante killing. Richard made it different for Michael. Now it was personal.

•••

Jonathan Hallowed spun his Bo staff clockwise, then stopped it low to block a strike by his trainer, Ethan Williams. The wooden staffs cracked together eight times in rapid succession, as Ethan drove Jonathan back. He struck high, low, and at his midsection. Jonathan evaded, or blocked him, each time. He hadn’t studied under Ethan ten years for nothing.

Jonathan back flipped over a leg sweep, landed in a crouch, jabbed long, blocked a strike, then rolled backward up to his feet again. Ethan maintained relentless pressure on his student. He didn’t get paid five hundred dollars per session, for nothing.

Jonathan parried, then ducked another swing. “Martial Arts is a great way to stay in shape. It sure wouldn’t do you any harm to at least try it.”

“I ain’t no Jet Li.”

“Me neither.” Dodge, spin, thrust. “It helps you focus, gives you discipline.” Swipe, evade. “You’ll be a more productive person in everything you do.”

Jay smiled. “Oh, I’m very productive.”

“Time!” Ethan said. Jonathan and Ethan stopped sparring and bowed to one another—both of them dripping perspiration.

Jonathan walked over to Jay, sitting on the floor. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jay exited the program and closed the laptop. “Just proving my point. We’ve all got our talents, and mine isn’t ka-ra-tay.”

“Well, anyway, we had better get ready,” Jonathan said. “Trenton is sending a limo soon and I’ve still got to take a quick shower before we go to this exhibition of his.”

“Oh yeah? What’s it about?” Jay asked.

Jonathan grabbed a bottled-water from the workout room refrigerator. “Something to do with genetics. I’m sure you’ll find it more interesting than I will. But hey, he’s my cousin, and that’s what he does. I guess, if I’m part owner in the company, I might as well see what’s going on there.”

“How did you end up owning a genetics lab, anyway?” Jay asked.

“Genetic Corp is just one of three companies my father and uncle started together. They were both killed in a plane crash, when I was six. Since then, Trenton has been running them, but Genetic Corp is his baby.”

“Well, hurry up and get a shower, or put on some deodorant, or something,” Jay said. “That sounds like something I’d like to see.”

Jonathan tossed him a bottled-water. He walked Jay out of the workout studio, the boy wafting his hand in front of his nose.

•••

Michael Stamos left his unmarked police car parked in the circular drive of Jonathan Hallowed’s home. He walked up to the large, intricately carved, wooden door, thinking how the rich didn’t really understand what problems were. He paused before knocking. Captain Monahan had told him to leave this all alone.

“You’re off the case, Mike,” Captain Monahan had said, his temporal artery pulsing with every heartbeat.

“Richard was my partner. I can’t just let Hallowed walk away from this.”

“That’s exactly why you’re off the case. You’re too close to this, now. I’m putting somebody fresh on it—somebody who can still think straight and catch the real killer.”

“Trenton Hallowed is the killer. I can prove it. Just give me a chance to—”

“No! You’re done, Mike. End of discussion. As a matter of fact, I’m putting you on leave for a week. Go home. Get some rest and get your head straight.”

Now Michael was on his own time. If he knocked on this door, he could be in for big trouble down the line. He thought about Richard—years of dedicated service, a family man leaving a widow behind. Michael knocked on the door.

The older gentleman who answered the door didn’t exactly look like a typical butler. “Yes, sir, may I help you?” He wore a business man’s suit and could have been a senior partner in a law firm, as far as Michael could tell.

“Yes, my name is Detective Stamos. I would like a word with Jonathan Hallowed, if he’s available.” Michael flipped his badge out for the butler to scrutinize.

“Come in, Detective.” The man ushered Michael inside to a large foyer with a hanging chandelier. “I will inform Mr. Hallowed that you are here.”

“Thanks.”

The servant left him standing there. Michael noticed his own reflection in a floor length mirror. He looked awful—unshaven and tired. “The butler’s got a better suit than I do,” he mumbled.

Michael took in the available view of Jonathan Hallowed’s home. Everything in sight had clearly cost the guy a mint. The place had been professionally decorated. Michael could not imagine a guy making it look this good.

“Detective Stamos?”

Michael turned to find Jonathan Hallowed approaching with the butler following. “Joseph tells me you wanted to see me about something.”

“It happened late last night. He was on his way home, but for some reason, Richard decided to check out a high school football field where drug dealers are known to hang out. We found him very early this morning, along with ten known dealers, all dead.”

“I can see that you’re upset, Detective, but what does that have to do with my cousin?” Jonathan asked. “Maybe these drug dealers were responsible—maybe your partner was able to kill them, before he died.”

“No, Mr. Hallowed. The coroner’s report of the incident is clear. The others died from severe trauma, unlike anything a normal person could inflict. Richard didn’t kill any of them. He discovered them murdered. The killer threw him through the window of the press box. His body was thrown further than anyone should have been able to manage, according to the coroner. The fall broke his neck and severed his spine in two places.” Michael fought for self control.

Jonathan stood quiet, obviously at a loss for words.

“Mr. Hallowed, I don’t know how your cousin, or any other man, could do what’s been done to these people, but someone is responsible for these killings. It’s my job to find out who it is.”

“I understand your situation, Detective, but I don’t see how I can help? I don’t believe Trenton is a killer. I’ve known him my whole life and never seen anything that would lead me to that conclusion.”

“What kind of research is Dr. Hallowed involved with at Genetic Corp?” Michael asked.

“Genetic research of some kind. I can’t really be more specific than that. I’m not a scientist. I think it has something to do with helping mankind battle diseases.”

Jay came into the room opposite the foyer. He walked over to Jonathan and Joseph, keeping a wary eye on Michael. The boy looked as though he thought the conversation might be about him.

Jonathan turned to the boy. “Jay, I’d like you to meet Detective Stamos. He’s working on a murder investigation in Donalee.”

Michael noticed the boy relax instantly. He’s guilty of something.

“We’re expected at an exhibition for Trenton’s research,” Jonathan said. “Evidently, he’s made a big breakthrough and wants to show everyone.”

“Really? That sounds very interesting,” Michael said. “I wish I could tag along.”

Jonathan looked at Joseph and Jay, then at Michael. “Well, I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t, Detective. After all, Trenton doesn’t have anything to hide. If it will help you see his innocence, then by all means, join us.”

Michael walked past Jonathan, toward the door. “Mr. Hallowed, I’d love to.”

8 UNINVITED

The limousine pulled up to a circular drive at the Genetic Corp building. Today was a special day and Jonathan, as part owner of the company, was expected to be present for Trenton unveiling his breakthrough discovery in genetic research. All Trenton had told him was it could change the course of human events, from today forward. Jonathan, not being a scientist, did not know what that might mean, but he hoped Jay would be interested.

Jay had been using his laptop during the car ride. Jonathan knew he was bright—perhaps a little too bright in some ways, and he wanted to give him opportunities—at least legal ones. He hoped Trenton’s research exhibition would spark with the boy and maybe give him some direction to pursue in life.

Jonathan watched Detective Stamos squirm in the seat opposite him. He didn’t appear comfortable, riding in a vehicle like this. Stamos exited first, when the door was finally opened for them.

Jonathan got out after him. “Don’t go too far, Detective. They won’t let you in the building, unless you’re with me. If you happen to be carrying any weapons, you’ll have to check them at the door. Security is very tight today.”

“All this for a science project, Mr. Hallowed?” Michael asked.

Jay spoke up as he got out of the car, followed by Joseph. “This sort of thing is big business, Detective. Some people do a lot of work trying to steal the kinds of secrets these places hold.”

Michael looked at Jay. “Yeah, I’ll bet there are all sorts of little creeps doing espionage to sell it to the highest bidder, huh?”

Jay glared at Michael. Jonathan walked toward the door and the others followed. A doorman, dressed in a formal uniform, opened the clear glass door bearing the Genetic Corp name and double helix DNA symbol. Jonathan walked through into a lavishly decorated lobby area.

“Does it always look like this?” Michael asked.

“Just today, Detective. After all, Trenton is celebrating a breakthrough,” Jonathan said.

Michael surveyed the room and the guests assembled for the celebration. “I suppose you must hope to attract investors with this gala affair.”

Jonathan nodded. “It takes a lot of money to fund good research, Detective.”

Michael gave a wan smile. “I’ll bet.”

“Jay, why don’t you try out the buffet tables over there,” Jonathan said, pointing toward the back wall between the double staircases.

Jonathan laughed under his breath, grabbing a shrimp puff from a passing tray. “I didn’t dig him up, Mike. Joseph was a friend of my father. As I said, Dad and my uncle started Genetic Corp, and a few other businesses together. When they died in a plane crash, Joseph stepped in as executor of my father’s will. Trenton was older than me, but he wasn’t ready to raise a young child, so Joseph stayed on with me as my legal guardian. He’s been like a father to me.”

Michael caught a drink from a passing waiter, turned the glass up, emptied the contents in one gulp. “That’s a great story, Jonathan. So what about Trenton? Did he have a father figure, too?”

“Trenton has always been very self sufficient, as you can see. He’s been running Genetic Corp for the most part. Trenton has taken this company through some big ups and downs, but we’re still here, thanks to him.”

Doug took a sip of wine from his glass. “Halo Technologies. We have ten divisions, lots of government contracts—boring dinner conversation.”

Doug spotted another waiter carrying items of interest. “Well, gentlemen, I’m sure I’ll see you in the observation booth.” He excused himself, following a tray of shrimp.

“Interesting fellow,” Michael said sarcastically.

Jonathan laughed under his breath. “He’s actually pretty brilliant, once you get to know him.”

A deep voice interrupted their conversation. “Jonathan, I wasn’t expecting any special guests.”

Michael turned. Trenton Hallowed stood there, holding a champagne glass. He forced a smile as he gazed at Detective Stamos, then at Jonathan.

“The detective dropped by the house,” Jonathan said. “When I mentioned our celebration, he said he’d like to see what you’ve accomplished,” Jonathan said.

Michael smiled at Trenton.

“I’m sure he did,” Trenton said, raising his glass as if to toast the detective’s gesture. “Well, Detective, I hope none of the material I cover today will be over your head.”

Trenton looked at his watch. “It’s almost time, gentlemen. I’ve got to get up to the fourth floor and make sure everything is ready. Don’t be late.” He turned, starting to walk away.

Jonathan saw the slightest hint of unnerved pass over Trenton’s face.

•••

Trenton looked back over his shoulder at Jonathan, and Detective Stamos. Did he know? How could Jonathan have been so stupid to bring him here, and on the day of his greatest triumph?

He grabbed her wrist, squeezing enough to break her concentration on Detective Stamos. “Carol, relax. Go up to four. Make sure they’ve got everything ready, all right?”

She nodded and he released her to do as she’d been told. Trenton tried to take a drink, but he’d already emptied the glass.

A waiter appeared out of nowhere with his tray. “I’ll take that for you, sir.”

Trenton placed the glass on the tray, taking notice of the man before him. His voice was gravelly and he had a dreadful scar running from his left brow to the corner of his nostril. He smiled, but not in an inviting way. “Thank you,” Trenton said. He walked away under the man’s stare.

9 VENDETTA

The waiter with the scarred face watched Trenton Hallowed walk up one of the twin staircases to the next level. Dr. Hallowed looked nervous. Truth be told, Scarface didn’t care. If all went according to plan, Trenton Hallowed would shortly become just another homicide statistic.

Scarface walked back toward the kitchen. He didn’t stop to serve anyone else, or retrieve another spent wine glass. The lobby of Genetic Corp had filled with guests dressed in tuxedos and suits. He thought about how much money was in this room. But he wasn’t here for a heist—not today.

Scarface passed through the swinging doors into the kitchen. It was a good thing for him that Genetic Corp usually had their functions catered. He had been able to pass into the building armed and unhindered as one of the caterer’s staff. He walked past several people preparing food. He wore the same uniform they were wearing, but he didn’t work for the same employer.

Scarface set his tray down on the counter and walked over to a cart he had been using. Someone had placed a tray of chilled shrimp on the top. He pushed the cart back to the service elevator, then inside, once the doors opened. When the doors closed again, Scarface pressed the button for the fourth floor and removed a composite briefcase from the lower shelf. He opened the case and seized a number of black metal parts from the molded foam holding them. Scarface assembled the pieces into an Uzi 9mm submachine gun in record breaking time, retrieved several clips of ammunition, closed the case, and replaced it under the cart. He slung the submachine gun over his shoulder on a strap, then grabbed a handful of peeled shrimp, popping them into his mouth. The elevator arrived at the fourth floor. Scarface tapped the stop button, holding the elevator, and looked at his watch. Just a little longer, Mr. Hallowed.

•••

Michael sat in the observation theater next to Jonathan Hallowed’s butler, Joseph, with Jay next to him. Michael gave a sideways glance at the man who had raised Jonathan, after his father’s death, wondering if he wasn’t also his bodyguard. Joseph was built like a retired linebacker—a dash of salt in his pepper black hair. “Are you a science fan, Joseph?”

Michael looked around the glassed-in theater at the many scientists, investors, and government contractors assembled to watch Trenton Hallowed’s experiment. “You’re pretty big, Joseph. Did you used to wrestle alligators or something?”

Joseph faced him. “Detective, if you did a background search, you might find that I’ve made some wise investments in my past. If you did an extensive search, you might even find that I began my career, not unlike yourself, eventually working for the CIA for several years, before leaving to do private security work for a wealthy client.”

“Jonathan’s father, maybe?”

Joseph’s cocked eyebrow gave him his answer.

Michael looked down through the thick Plexiglass window at Trenton and Jonathan, inside the lab room where the experiment was set to occur. A large Plexiglass cage, with a partition near one end, took up most of the room. On one side, Trenton tended a large, white rat. A tank marked Generation X Mutagen stood anchored to the floor nearby, with a hose connected to the rat’s end of the cage. Inside the larger portion of the cage, two anacondas lay coiled, waiting.

“Maybe Trenton isn’t the one I should be concerned about,” Michael said.

Joseph blinked, then looked at him more seriously. “Detective, I’m an former agent, not a killer. My only desire is to protect Jonathan and see that he is well cared for.”

Michael paid attention to the conviction in Joseph’s voice. He felt sure Joseph was probably clean. “Then what do your instincts tell you about Trenton Hallowed?”

Michael saw suspicion in the butler’s eyes. “I’m not sure, Detective. I do know that Trenton is very passionate about his work. I don’t believe he is a killer. Besides, these crimes would be impossible for him to commit, even if he were.”

Michael turned his attention back to the exhibition. Perhaps.

Trenton’s voice came through a speaker in the theater. Everyone became quiet. “Ladies and gentlemen, let me first express my deep appreciation for your presence at this demonstration. It’s no secret, many of you have been critical of my research into man’s progressive evolution, but I hope today’s demonstration will stifle any doubts. We have tapped into man’s potential and found ways to enhance our regenerative functions, wound healing, and immune response—things that may provide immunity to dangerous, as well as common illnesses—potential cures for cancer, hepatitis, and Aids.”

Michael couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A wave of murmuring swept through the guests in the theater. “I’ve asked my cousin and co-owner of Genetic Corp, Jonathan Hallowed, to assist me in this exhibition.” He instructed Jonathan, in hushed tones, before returning to his lapel mic.

Jonathan walked to the far end of the anaconda side of the cage and waited next to a switch. Michael assumed it must be the control to the partition separating the rat from the snakes. Trenton gestured toward his side of the cage. “As you can see, I’ve isolated our test subject, Larry the rat, from two deadly anacondas. I can assure you that these are not domesticated animals. And we’ve kept them hungry.”

The crowd murmured again. Michael watched Trenton like a hawk.

“Larry has undergone measured exposure to my Generation X Mutagen, for thirty days,” Trenton said. “I’m going to give him one final exposure dose.” Trenton tapped the mutagen tank control next to the cage. A puff of green fog filled Larry’s side. The rat squirmed inside the mist, until it dissipated.

“Now that we’ve given Larry a final dose of Generation X Mutagen, I would like to ask Jonathan to remove the barrier between predator and prey.”

Jonathan followed the instructions he had been given a moment ago, pulling on the lever to raise the partition. It only took a moment for the starved anacondas to react. First one, then the other, began to glide toward their prey.

The white rat remained perfectly still as the first snake approached. It struck. Larry responded, leaping beyond the ravenous rope of muscle. However, the second anaconda lay there waiting. The reptile struck, catching Larry in its jaws. Instantly, the coils enveloped the struggling white rat, trying to squeeze the life out of him. The audience gasped. Michael noticed a few of the guests smirk—the exhibition an obvious failure. When he looked at Trenton, the man was grinning from ear to ear. What are you up to, Doc?

Michael watched the successful snake with the rat. It began to spasm wildly. Blood poured onto the cage floor. The rat emerged from the thick coils, covered in blood. The anaconda’s head flopped around, shredded. The first snake took notice of the prey. Larry, the rat, did not hesitate to attack it. Michael sat on the edge of his seat as the rat killed the other snake in gruesome fashion.

Trenton interjected. “You see? My Generation X Mutagen has transformed Larry into a super rat. Not even these dangerous predators could overpower him!”

Everything suddenly clicked for Michael. A normal man could not have committed these crimes, but a super human, hyped up on Hallowed’s mutagen, could. Before Michael could stand and go to the lab to arrest Trenton Hallowed, the door burst open below.

Michael heard a deep voice barely audible through Trenton’s lapel mic. Automatic gunfire sprayed across the lab below. Michael saw a burly man firing into the room with a submachine gun. Trenton fell behind the Plexiglass cage as the cylinder of Generation X Mutagen exploded. Michael watched Jonathan Hallowed go down under a hail of bullets.

Joseph jumped over Michael—a gun in his hand—heading for the door. Michael recognized the weapon as a Glock 29 10mm pistol. He’d gotten it by security somehow. Michael jumped to his feet and followed the butler, leaving Jay huddled on the ground with the other panicking guests. An alarm sounded. Michael saw the lab door start to come down behind the gunman. He backed out before it closed. The entire lab filled with thick green fog—Trenton’s chemical.

Michael rounded the doorway, as Joseph opened fire on the gunman—two rounds to the chest, one to the head. Uzi gunfire sprayed the hallway and ceiling, then ceased, as Scarface fell over dead. People in the observation theater screamed in panic.

Joseph ran to the door. It was sealed tight. A security guard rounded the corner with his gun drawn. “Get someone up here who can open this door, now!” Joseph shouted. Michael ran back into the theater, trying to calm the guests. Beyond the Plexiglass windows, he saw Trenton, barely moving near the exploded tank. His lapel mic carried his raspy breaths through the theater speakers.

The green, chemical fog hung heavy in the air. The door had sealed automatically, preventing contamination outside the lab. Michael looked for Jonathan, finding him near the front of the room. The young man’s clothes were soaked with fresh blood. He wasn’t moving.

10 EMERGENCY

Michael watched as Paramedics finished strapping Trenton Hallowed to a gurney for transport. His assistant, Carol, followed as they wheeled the scientist out of the lab with an oxygen mask strapped to his face. He was banged up, but otherwise unharmed. Jonathan Hallowed had not faired so well in the incident.

Michael watched Joseph standing behind the coroner technicians, as they zipped the body-bag over Jonathan’s lifeless form. Joseph’s face was rigid as stone. Michael’s own experience, having to stand by while his former partner was taken away, flashed in his mind. It was obvious Joseph loved the young man like a son, but he would not show emotion. His former training wouldn’t allow weakness to shine through.

Michael walked over to Joseph and stood beside the taller man. Even after a firefight, the butler still made his own appearance seem unkempt. “I’m sorry about Jonathan,” Michael said.

Joseph glanced at him. He said nothing, but Michael plainly recognized the anguish behind his eyes—a caged animal waiting for the right moment to escape. “I recognize the hit-man.”

Joseph turned toward him. “Who is he and who does he work for?”

“His name is Tommy Chang, but most people on the street called him Scarface. He works for a guy named Ming—likes to call himself Ming the Merciless—you know, like the old Flash Gordon villain.”

Joseph turned, taking a survey of the lab with its pockmarked walls, glass fragments, and bloodstains. He looked at Michael, shaking his head. “If you say so, Detective.”

•••

Trenton had remained conscious throughout the entire ordeal. He had seen the gunman burst through the door, felt the compression blast, as bullets ruptured the tank of Generation-X Mutagen. He had watched, as Jonathan fell before the barrel of a blazing machine gun, gasping as the green fog of his latest breakthrough filled the room and his lungs. Now, he stared up blankly from behind the oxygen mask, as fluorescent corridor lighting passed above him like broken lines on a highway.

Strangely, he had not been shot. Trenton was glad for it, but Jonathan had probably saved his life—taking bullets meant for him. It doesn’t matter, that kid was weak anyway. The thought startled him, like an intrusive voice unexpected in his head. He was back. A voice that made him feel better about the things he’d done recently—the people he had killed. Not Jonathan—he was family. No, only a sniveling pup. Not a scientist, not a creator like us. With him out of the way you won’t have to share your father’s company. You won’t have to listen to his sheepish opinions about God. We are God, now!

Trenton felt strong again. He always felt strong when he was talking. Trenton felt like taking on the world. Faces appeared in his vision—two men he didn’t know, and Carol. They seemed worried. Trenton heard their voices and the fluttering of beeps—warnings from unseen monitors.

“He’s gone into V-fib!” one man said.

“We’re gonna have to shock him,” another said.

Trenton heard Carol’s shrill voice break through. “What’s happening? What’s wrong? I thought he wasn’t injured in the lab! Do something!”

“Calm down, ma’am,” one man said. “Let us do our job.”

Trenton felt the world begin to slip away. His vision became fuzzy, his mind listless. His other voice caressed his thoughts, wanting him to surrender. We can be so much more powerful than we are now. All we need to do is awaken. Give me control. We could rule the city—rule the world. It was overwhelming and satisfying. Trenton felt a desire to obey the voice completely.

“Clear!”

Trenton squeezed his eyes shut, every muscle in his body reacting to the current traveling through it. His body trembled against the gurney, straining against the canvas straps securing his limbs. When his eyes opened again, he heard Carol Screaming. Trenton realized he was now sitting up. His hands were free of the restraints and covered in blood.

Trenton reacted—no longer in control—a passenger along for the ride in his own body. Blankets, lines, and bottles exploded around him—a volcanic eruption of medical equipment inside the paramedic’s truck. The world beyond the windshield twisted into streaks of light, then two great lights bore down on them. Trenton heard a sound like a cannon blast. He flew forward through the cabin, bouncing off walls, bodies, and anything else caught up within the maelstrom.

•••

Trenton couldn’t tell if he had actually lost consciousness. He was lying on the floor of the paramedic bay, covered in supplies and broken glass. A better survey of the cabin showed him the floor was actually the underside of the roof. Trenton sloughed off the equipment and a body, partially lying across him, in order to stand up. He stepped over the dead paramedic toward the rear doors, smashing them open with a swift kick.

Out in the street, Trenton saw shattered glass, twisted fragments of metal, and pieces of colored plastic strewn in every direction. An Imperial City Transit bus lay on its side, down the road, with the front end smashed in. Bystanders gathered at the scene—some coming from sidewalks, and others from stopped cars.

Trenton examined himself, finding his clothing torn, but otherwise he felt great. He walked around the paramedic truck and found the driver lying dead in the street, along with Carol. “Too bad. I was just beginning to like her,” he said. “You should have let me make you into a god, like me, when you had the chance, Carol.”

Trenton smiled at the carnage. He had survived. That was the most important thing.

“Are you all right, man?” someone asked, approaching from a parked car. He appeared concerned. Trenton simply bowed at the waist to the gathering crowd, like an actor finishing his best performance. Then he turned, running away into the night—laughing.

11 POSTMORTEM

Joseph never thought such a day would come. He pulled into a parking space at the Hilton Morgue and shut off the lights. He slumped forward, placing his forehead on the leather bound steering wheel. Jonathan Hallowed, the young man he had raised from the time of his father’s passing, was dead.

His eyes watered—a vain attempt to cry. Years of special ops training had buried such displays of emotion so deep he didn’t even know how to find them, anymore. While Jonathan was alive, his life had meaning, real purpose—even joy. Now, he felt like there was nothing left.

Joseph had left Jay at Jonathan’s home. The boy was still in shock. Jay often acted like he didn’t want Jonathan’s help, but Joseph saw through the tough guy façade. He was just a scared kid. He needed someone to love and care for him, someone to provide him with direction for his life. Jonathan had been working with the boy for more than a year now. Jay had no one else. It occurred to Joseph, the boy should remain in his care. Yes, Jonathan would have wanted that.

He pulled the keys from the ignition and opened the door. It was grim business he had to attend to—a positive identification and signing releases for the body—grim business indeed.

•••

Jonathan gasped for breath, his whole body convulsing—every muscle succumbing to violent spasms. He opened his eyes to pure darkness. He flailed his arms and legs, suddenly aware. His body felt like it was on fire—every nerve ending crying out in pain. He screamed, but the words only came out as raspy coughs.

He remembered the gunman, the bullets riddling his body, and losing consciousness as he choked inside a green cloud of Trenton’s chemical mutagen. Years of Bible study flooded his mind with one horrifying thought—darkness, fire, and pain. I’m in Hell!

Panic seized his senses. “No! I can’t be here! I believe on the Lord Jesus Christ! Lord, help me!”

Jonathan’s arms battered the smooth walls surrounding him. He kicked out with his legs. A wall gave way beneath his feet. Light flood the confines of Jonathan’s netherworld prison. He realized he was not trapped in the dreaded judgment of God. He was lying inside a steel box. Dark, shredded plastic covered his body.

I’m naked, he realized. The heat coming from the opening at his feet, transformed the burning pain into severe cold. Jonathan pushed against the roof. The platform he was lying on rolled out into the room beyond. Jonathan sat up. I’m in some kind of lab, or hospital. He got off of the metal table and saw an entire wall of metal doors with heavy latches. He quickly examined the black plastic hanging on his body. “A body bag—I’m in the morgue.”

Jonathan looked around. The caved in freezer door, he had kicked, dangled from one of its three steel hinges. His vision came and went. He felt disoriented, but knew he had to get out of here. A desk sat on one side of the room with a window high above it. Jonathan leaped across the room and launched off the desk toward the window. He smashed through it, landing on the pavement in the parking lot beyond.

•••

Joseph stepped out of the car and heard the sound of glass shattering a few feet away. He pulled his handgun from his shoulder holster and made his way cautiously around the few cars, in the parking lot, blocking his view. A man stood up in front of him. He aimed. The man’s face caught enough light for Joseph to recognize him. “Jonathan!”

“Joseph?”

Joseph rushed around the car to his side. Jonathan was covered in the shredded, black plastic of his own body-bag. Joseph immediately holstered his weapon and pulled off his wool trench coat. Jonathan let the plastic fall into the parking lot, accepting the warm garment—the familiar smell of his mentor’s cologne filling his nostrils.

Joseph’s mind raced with every question imaginable, but now was not the time to ask. “Let’s get you into the car,” he said. Jonathan stumbled, as though drugged. That possibility crossed Joseph’s mind as he tried to comprehend what had happened to the young man.

He placed Jonathan in the backseat of the Lexus and got into the driver’s seat. Joseph surveyed the parking lot, then started up the car. Jonathan shivered behind him, looking as pale as a ghost. There’ll be plenty of time to figure this out at home. Joseph calmed his mind, as much as possible, put the car into gear, and pulled away from the Hilton Morgue.

12 REVELATION

Jay and the house staff were presumably asleep already, when Joseph pulled the car into the underground garage. Walking in with a dead man, in the middle of the night, was the last thing Joseph wanted to explain right now. Jonathan had dozed off during the car ride from the morgue. He shuffled along, listless beside the butler, having to lean upon his shoulder for support as they took the elevator up to the main floor of the house.

“Let’s get you into the bathroom, sir,” Joseph said.

Jonathan managed to raise his head. “What happened to me, Joseph?”

The butler pulled him into the bathroom, and leaned Jonathan against the granite, double lavatory. He turned, lowered the toilet seat, and sat the young man upon it. Joseph pulled the shoulders of his overcoat down to get a look at Jonathan’s wounds.

“I realize you’re not dead…now,” Joseph admitted. “But, you were dead, sir. I checked you myself at the scene. Your wounds were most definitely fatal—no heartbeat, no blood pressure, and you had bled far more than necessary to die. You were dead.”

Jonathan stammered for an answer. “Then how would you explain this?” he said, motioning to himself.

“I can’t,” Joseph said. “What’s more I can’t explain this.” Joseph pointed to the bullet holes strafing Jonathan’s torso. “These wounds are almost completely healed.” He pressed his hand to Jonathan’s chest. “Your heart is beating strong. It doesn’t make any sense to me. It’s impossible.”

“I don’t want to call the police yet, Joseph. Not until I know what’s going on and how this all plays into the case the authorities are building against Trenton. I don’t know what else to do. Jay’s a big boy. I think he can handle it.”

•••

Jay sat up in bed, blinked twice, and screamed. The boy leaped from his bed, slamming his back into the wall.

“Jay, it’s all right!” Jonathan sat on the edge of the bed in a green bathrobe. The bedside, table lamp cast an eerie glow on the man.

“You’re dead!” Jay screamed. “I saw that guy gun you down!”

Joseph flipped the light switch, and caught Jay by the shoulders. “Jay, look at me! Jonathan is alive, but we need your help to find out how.”

•••

Jay sat at his computer, typing faster than Jonathan could follow. “I never would have thought you would have me breaking into the mainframe of a major scientific research facility.” Jay said.

Jonathan stood behind him. “I’m sorry. We’ve got to get some answers, before I risk contacting the police.”

Jay turned abruptly, smiling. “Oh, I’m not complaining. This is my zone. I just didn’t think you would be the one asking me to do it.” He turned back to the keyboard and began working again. Windows flashed on and off the screen, as Jay found necessary menus, and then moved on to others.

“You muggles are so predictable,” Jay said. “Just give me a little time and let me work my magic.”

•••

Michael sighed. “Look, Richard and I were both convinced Hallowed was our man before. Now, we have his experimental data, the hit by Ming’s man, and the deaths in this paramedic truck accident. Even the witnesses at the scene said the guy had blood on his hands, a wild look in his eye, and ran off laughing about it all.”

“He could’ve been in shock,” Captain Monahan said.

Michael slapped the pen down on the written order. “He’s our guy, Captain. He’s just like his pet rat in the experiment. I watched that thing kill two anacondas, for Pete’s sake.”

Captain Monahan sighed. He took the pen and signed the order. “Be careful, Mike. If this goes bad, I don’t even know your name.”

Michael smiled, snatching the order off the desk. “Don’t worry, Captain. As crazy as this guy is about his research, he’ll show up, and we’ll be waiting for him.”

13 GENERATION X

“I’m in!” Jay crowed.

Jonathan turned up a soft drink and finished it. “It’s about time.”

Jay put on his best wounded face. “Can you hack into this system? Can you hack into any system—oh wait; I forgot I was talking to the dead guy.”

Jonathan joined him at the computer. “Formerly the dead guy, thank you very much. What have you got?”

Jay scrolled through a menu of documents pertaining to the Generation X Mutagen. “Here’s one called Physiologic Regeneration,” Jay said, clicking the icon. They scanned the report, written by Trenton himself.

Jay sat back in his chair, tapping his chin with his finger. “If I’m reading this right, Trenton’s test animals became super strong, with much faster reflexes. They also became uncontrollable and highly aggressive, until each one had to be destroyed.”

“I’m impressed,” Jonathan said. “How’d you learn to interpret this kind of data as a high school dropout?”

“Lots of Star Trek and an addiction to Wikipedia,” Jay said, leaning forward to examine the screen. “Hey, check this out. It looks like Trenton had trouble keeping the test animals down. He tried injecting them, even gassing them to death, but they recovered almost every time. He finally had to cremate them.”

“Then it seems we have our answer as to what happened to you, Jonathan,” Joseph said from the shadows. “There’s something else, I’m afraid.”

“I called Detective Stamos. He asked if I had seen any sign of Trenton. It seems the ambulance crashed into a bus while en route. Bystanders say Trenton appeared outside the vehicle, walking around with blood on his hands. None of the others survived. The detective said only Trenton’s lab assistant was killed before the ambulance crashed.”

Jonathan lowered his face into his hands. “What happened to Trenton?”

“Eyewitnesses told police Trenton bowed to them, grinning like the Devil himself, and then ran off, laughing hysterically.”

“What did you tell Stamos?” Jonathan asked.

“The truth—I haven’t seen Dr. Hallowed since the shooting at the lab,” Joseph said. “He did ask me how I was doing and expressed his regret for your death. Of course, I didn’t mention your unexpected recovery.”

Jonathan might have smiled, after all he was glad to be alive, but evidence continued to mount against Trenton. The mutagen had transformed the lab animals into super versions of themselves, virtually unable to die. What had it done to Trenton? “I think we had better keep searching these files for as much info as we can get,” Jonathan said. “Did Detective Stamos say what they plan to do now?”

Joseph pulled up a chair, with Jonathan, behind Jay. “He didn’t say, but apparently Genetic Corp has been shutdown indefinitely, pending this investigation.”

•••

Trenton surveyed the scene at Genetic Corp, from behind one of the border hedges. Everything was dark now. Yellow police tape crossed the front of the building, warning people not to tamper with the crime scene. Despite a moonless night, Trenton saw the two police officers attempting to hide themselves in the shadows.

He felt like an owl hunting mice in the dark—a silent but deadly predator. Nothing would keep him from claiming his mutagen formulas. They belonged to him. Without those formulas, he wouldn’t be able to share his discovery with the rest of mankind. Without those formulas, he wouldn’t be able to stop the worst effect of the mutagen.

•••

Officer Bunch pulled the wrapper off a stick of gum and pushed it into his mouth. He chewed a few times, then blew a bubble. Pop.

Officer Bunch wadded up his gum wrapper and tossed it at his partner. “You’re worried about me giving up our position, while you stand there smoking that nasty cigar? You can see it glowing a mile away.”

“Ah.”

“Anyway, I think this is a huge waste of time,” Bunch complained. “That kook ain’t gonna show up. Who calls out a SWAT unit for one guy, anyway? This is crazy.”

Jack blew out a puff of cigar smoke and smiled. “Doesn’t bother me—as long as I’m getting paid overtime.”

Officer Bunch jumped at a crashing sound from the parking lot in front of them. He drew his MP5 submachine gun to his shoulder, aiming the night-scope into the darkness. “What was that?”

“I don’t know. It sounded like somebody kicking the side of a car, or something.”

“There aren’t any cars in the parking lot.” Officer Bunch swept the night-scope back and forth. “There’s too much glare coming off those street lights.”

Something shifted within the green field of his night vision optic. Massive glare from the street lamp filled the scope. “What the—?”

Officer Bunch looked up just in time to see the street lamp come crashing down on their position. Bunch jumped out of the way, as the four-way lamp head smashed into the ground. He rolled over and saw the massive steel pole lying horizontal on the concrete where he had been standing. His partner lay crushed beneath it. “Jack!”

A blur darted through his peripheral vision. Officer Bunch raised his weapon, only to have it snatched from his grasp by a shadowy figure. The breath exploded from his chest as the intruder punched him in the breastbone. Even his flack jacket didn’t diminish the impact. He flew off the ground, landing against the side of the Genetic Corp building, unable to breathe.

14 INTRUDER

•••

A brief hint of static squawked in Michael’s earpiece. “Detective Stamos, we’ve got a street light down outside and two men dead.”

So that’s what it was—he’s here. “Right, copy that,” Michael replied. “Everybody on your toes. Our suspect has arrived, gentlemen. Remember, he’s extremely dangerous. He’s already made the first move—shoot to kill.”

His SWAT unit responded, “Copy that.”

Michael lowered his night-vision visor. The building had been blacked out for a good reason. Hopefully, forcing Hallowed to stumble around in the dark would give Michael, and his team, the edge they needed to take him out—an edge his partner had not had a couple of nights ago.

Images of the doctor’s experiment haunted him now—a white rat tearing two of nature’s most dangerous predators to pieces. Trenton Hallowed had become the white rat. Suddenly, Michael had the sinking feeling his SWAT unit would not be enough.

He had gone through the training himself, some years back, but ultimately decided on becoming a detective instead. His father had been a detective. It was important to Dad.

Michael heard glass shatter in the distance. He and two other officers responded. They glided down the hallway using the shadows for cover—their MP5s trained ahead of them. The thin carpet helped mask their steps. They drew close to a corner.

Michael heard a scream, both in his headset and ahead of him. One of their fellow officers flew past the intersection into view, slamming into a decorative vase in the corner. The hallway erupted in machine gun fire, as the officer recovered and fired in the direction he had just been thrown from. Another gun went off, almost simultaneously.

Michael ran forward as the officer fell under return fire. He reached the corner, stopping with two officers in tow. When Michael nodded, they rounded the corner and caught sight of a man. Michael noticed a uniform and held his fire, but the officers with him did not. “No, don’t!” Michael warned.

The officer screamed through his headset, as they cut him down by accident. “Hold your fire!” Michael ordered. As soon as the officers realized what had happened, Trenton stepped out from behind the slain officer, he had used as a shield, and fired. One of the SWAT officers went down. Michael ducked behind the wall, as bullets chewed up the sheetrock.

“Give it up, Hallowed!” Michael yelled.

Trenton laughed. “Why if it isn’t Detective Stamos. Are you the one responsible for throwing me this grand party?”

The second officer with Michael shot out from the corner, but was immediately hit by the body of the officer Trenton had been hiding behind. He fired in a panic, just before the dead body smashed into him. Michael pushed his submachine gun around the corner, found Trenton in the night-scope, and fired. As soon as he did, Trenton disappeared.

More laughter. “You’ll have to be quicker than that, Detective.”

Michael switched ammo clips and called into his headset. “Officers down in the west wing, repeat, officers down. Suspect is in the west wing and armed. Dispatch, this is Detective Michael Stamos at the Genetic Corp building. We have the suspect surrounded, officers are down. We need backup, immediately, and paramedics to the scene, copy?”

Trenton’s voice boomed at him from everywhere, over the intercom system. “Do you suppose they can get here in time, Detective? You and your men don’t have long to live.”

“Copy, Detective Stamos, backup and paramedics are en route to your location,” the dispatcher said through Michael’s earpiece.

Michael checked on the second officer. He was unconscious, but alive. Michael rounded the corner again. He didn’t know where the main intercom might be controlled, until he saw a hallway phone receiver dangling—recently dropped. He breathed deeply, made sure his weapon was ready, and proceeded down the dark hallway. “All right, Hallowed. I’m coming for you.”

•••

Joseph came back into the study where Jonathan and Jay sat at his computer. “The police scanner is going mad, sir. A SWAT team is calling for backup at Genetic Corp. The suspect is Trenton Hallowed.”

Jonathan winced at the name. “Trenton went back to Genetic Corp?”

Joseph sat two large suitcases down on the floor, next to some other supplies he was gathering for their departure. Jonathan looked at his bodyguard. “What do you really think is going on, Joseph?”

“Sir, your cousin was in the same room, in the same chemical fog. For all we know, Trenton may have been using the mutagen on himself. Maybe Detective Stamos has been tracking Trenton for good reason.”

Jonathan stood up. “Trenton…a murderer? I don’t believe that.”

“Sir, we don’t know the full effects of this Generation X Mutagen. We’ve already witnessed its effect on the lab rat in the experiment, and its ability to heal you of fatal gunshot wounds.”

Jonathan leaned on the desktop. “Joseph, do you expect me to believe my own cousin is a superhuman, serial killer?” He pounded the desk once with his fist, in anger. The legs shattered, and the desk tumbled sideways into the floor.

Jay caught his laptop just in time. “Hey!”

All three of them looked at the pummeled piece of furniture, horrified.

“Sir, we clearly must consider all the possibilities,” Joseph said. “Trenton has gone back to Genetic Corp for a reason. An entire SWAT team is calling frantically for backup, against one man.”

Jonathan stammered, searching for an answer, looking at the shattered desk. “Okay, Joseph. Why would he go back there with the police waiting for him?”

“The vault is where he got the chemical for the experiment,” Jonathan said. “Yes, shut down everything. If that stuff does what we think, then we can’t let him have it.”

Jay’s fingers flew over his keyboard—their natural environment. “I’ll lock it up so tight, with encryption, he’ll never even get into the mainframe.”

Joseph grabbed the suitcases off the floor. “We’d better get moving, Jonathan. With all of this going on, the police won’t delay very long in coming here—especially if Trenton escapes Genetic Corp.”

Jonathan grabbed some of the duffle bags Joseph had assembled in the room. “Do you think Trenton would come to the house?”

Joseph looked at him. “If he does, we don’t want to be here.”

15 ONSLAUGHT

Static mingled with shouts and screams, in Michael’s earpiece, as he hurried through the dark corridors of Genetic Corp. He heard Trenton speaking. “You’re missing the party, Detective.”

The sounds of sporadic gunfire echoed off the walls. Michael proceeded with caution looking before and behind. He saw muzzle flashes playing against the wall up ahead. Another voice screamed and was abruptly silenced through his earpiece. He ran toward the end of the corridor and stopped short at the corner, finding a double doorway just beyond.

Michael checked his ammo reader—almost a full clip left. A guestbook sat upon a podium on the opposite side of the doorway. He had seen this before. Michael had signed the guestbook at the party celebrating Trenton Hallowed’s grand exhibition. Beyond the doorway, he would find the huge foyer with its double staircases and buffet tables.

Michael noticed his earpiece only carried static now. None of the officers spoke anymore. “This is Detective Stamos, is anyone there…copy?”

Trenton’s rasping deep voice answered him. “I’m still here, Detective.”

His voice sent a shiver of fear down Michael’s spine. He had not only heard Trenton Hallowed through his earpiece, he had heard him in the foyer, beyond the open doors. “I’m waiting, Detective.”

Michael breathed deeply, held it, rounding the corner with his weapon aimed in front of him. His shiver of fear transformed into a stampede. The bodies of his SWAT team hung before him in the foyer, from their own grappling cords—a hangman’s dream come true.

His gun almost fell out of his hands. “The best we had—all dead,” he whispered.

“Don’t they make wonderful marionettes, Detective?” Trenton taunted.

Michael searched for Trenton’s voice and found the madman standing on the landing above the open foyer. A silver, metal banister topped panes of frosted glass all the way up both staircases, terminating with a larger pane bearing the Genetic Corp emblem—a double helix. Trenton stood behind it, smiling at his handiwork.

Seeing him renewed Michael’s resolve. He launched himself into the foyer among the bodies, using them for cover as he fired his submachine gun. The decorative glass exploded in front of Trenton. He leaped away as sparks ignited on the metal railing and stonework around him.

Michael pushed his way through the dead team members, trying to track his elusive target. Trenton appeared half way down the right staircase, firing one of the weapons he had taken from his victims. Michael used the corpses for cover. Bullets riddled the bodies, spraying Stamos with blood, but he wasn’t giving up.

Michael returned fire. His better aim sent Trenton on the run again, amid a hail of bullets and shattered glass. The ammo clip ran dry. Michael snatched out the double clip, flipped it, and inserted the other end with fresh rounds. He pulled, released the bolt, then took aim.

Two tear gas canisters sailed away from the balcony, leading trails of yellow smoke. Trenton stood at the point of their origination, cackling. Sirens wailed outside on approach to the building. “I’ve no more time to play with you today, Detective,” he said. “I’ll leave you to explain the deaths of these men to their wives, and children.”

Michael tried to find him—his eyes burning like fire. The cloud of tear gas billowed around him. He stumbled into bodies, causing them to swing like pendulums. One body slammed into him, knocking him to the floor. He choked on fumes. Every mucus membrane in his head screamed for mercy, emptying in a vain attempt to clear the irritant.

•••

Trenton ran from the balcony above the foyer as the tear gas filled the room below, swallowing Detective Stamos. The sirens outside multiplied, growing louder. He had to get to the lab and retrieve his mutagen formulas and the extra gas cylinders.

The lights came on—power restored. They’re coming into the building. It suited his purposes as well—power to run the computers.

Trenton kicked the lab door open, just in time to see the main vault door closing. “No!” He raced across the lab, reaching the door with less than a hand’s breadth of space. The massive door stopped, becoming flush with the wall. Trenton heard the steel bolts sliding into place within the mechanism. He slammed his fists into the door, but it was no use. Not even his new strength could penetrate the vault.

He turned back to the computer terminals which lined the counters, and ran to one of them. Trenton typed in his access code. He could still open the vault, and retrieve the gas cylinders, while he downloaded his formulas onto a jump drive. Access Denied.

“What?” Trenton fumed.

He tried again, but the computer repeated the message. Trenton grew enraged and punched his fist into the flat screen monitor, shattering it to pieces. He moved to another terminal and tried again. The message repeated. He had to force himself not to destroy this terminal too.

Trenton heard police officers entering the building, commands given, and gasps of horror at the carnage left for them in the foyer. He had to hurry. Taking on an entire police force, probably in riot gear, would not do him any good now.

“Come on!” He tried something else—typing in commands to show him why the computer had denied him access. He hit the enter key and waited.

Trenton couldn’t believe the message displayed on the screen. ERROR—ENCRYPTED FILES NOT AVAILABLE—LOCKDOWN COMMAND—JHALLOWED.

“Jonathan!” Trenton screamed. He smashed all the computers left on the counter.

“Up here!” someone shouted.

Trenton turned as two policemen, in body armor and gas masks, opened fire on him from the doorway. He grabbed a rolling chair and whipped it sideways toward them. The chair crashed into the doorway, causing the men to flinch away. Trenton took advantage of their distraction and ran toward the door as the chair hit the floor. He charged forward, grabbing the body armor of both men. Trenton lifted them up and threw both officers over the railing. They dropped four floors to the foyer below, where a host of police officers had assembled.

“Get him!”

More police officers surged after him from the elevator and the stairwell. Trenton tore down the corridor away from them, wishing he had taken one of their flack jackets. He still needed to protect his vital organs from sustaining too much damage.

They followed Trenton, the frontrunners opening fire. He prepared to turn right, but another two officers appeared as he closed on the intersection. Trenton mowed over them and kept going to the left. He didn’t usually work in this part of the building, but he could hear and smell lab animals nearby. He knew if he entered one of the locked doors, he might trap himself. A window came into view at the end of the corridor.

Trenton picked up his pace as the officers got a straight line of fire behind him and took advantage of it. Bullets ripped into his back. Trenton’s white shirt soaked through with blood. He gritted his teeth against the pain. Adrenaline rushed through his body. The window fractured ahead of him, as bullets impacted the shatterproof glass.

Trenton leaped at the window. It exploded outward. He fell four stories, but landed on his feet. He took inventory of himself—no broken bones, but plenty of bullet wounds. Trenton felt the inevitable low coming on him from taxing his body so much. He imagined recovering from tonight’s escapades would dwarf the usual hour or two of extra sleep he needed, since exposing himself to the mutagen.

He ran into the trees beyond the Genetic Corp property line as the police officers appeared at the window, searching the ground below for his corpse. So sorry to disappoint, Trenton thought. But even though he had escaped, he still didn’t have what he needed. As he passed into the trees, he whispered, “Jonathan, I’m coming for you.”

16 FULL BURN

Jonathan watched the traffic pass, as he sat in rear seat of Joseph’s BMW. The dark, tinted windows hid them from prying eyes, just in case. The Branton sign passed the window as Jay fidgeted with his laptop. “Jonathan, you really need to listen to me.”

He turned from his distraction—a hundred thoughts swirling through his mind. “I’m sorry, Jay. What were you saying?”

“This “Full Burn” document—it talks about one of the side effects of Trenton’s mutagen. It causes a dramatic increase in metabolism, so much it reduces lifespan.”

Jonathan focused now. “I’m not quite following—you mean I’ll die?”

“Sooner than you normally would, according to Trenton’s own research,” Jay said. “Apparently, the harder his lab animals were pushed in experiments, the more they flourished—but they also died much faster. It’s like they used up their natural lifespan by using the power the mutagen gave them.”

“Full burn—it makes sense,” Joseph said from the driver’s seat. “Does he talk about lab subjects that weren’t pushed in that manner?”

Jay searched the document on his screen again. “Yeah, he had another group that lived almost as long as his control group that didn’t receive the mutagen.”

Jonathan smiled a little. “Then I just don’t exert myself by using the strength the mutagen gives, right?”

“Not just that,” Jay said, “The mutagen will accelerate healing.”

“That would burn life too,” Jonathan concluded. He looked back through the window, gazing at the sky. Why has this happened to me, Lord?

Jonathan watched Joseph’s reaction to hearing Trenton’s voice again. After all that had happened over the past few days, things could never be the same. Jonathan thought he saw Joseph’s face grow flush.

“Trenton, don’t you realize Jonathan was killed in your lab?” Joseph asked.

Jonathan heard the voice on the phone grow loud enough for him to hear. “Don’t play me for a fool, old man! Put him on the phone!”

Joseph’s face became hard—a sign he was giving way to his temper. “Trenton—”

“Joseph, I’ll talk to him,” Jonathan said.

Joseph looked astonished and covered the phone. “Sir, I don’t recommend doing that. He doesn’t sound himself at all. The mutagen has—”

Jonathan exchanged a thoughtful look with his friend. “It’s all right.” He reached, took the phone, and placed it to his ear. “Hello, Trenton.”

Heavy breathing on the other end subsided instantly. “Jonathan, I’m so glad to find you alive, cousin.”

“I’m a little surprised myself. As I understand it, your mutagen is the reason for it.”

Trenton laughed. “I told you I was working on something that would propel Genetic Corp far beyond the competition. Now you see what I’ve accomplished—Immortality—the next step in man’s evolution.”

“Jay? Oh yes, the boy…I wondered how you managed to get into my secure files. That’s actually why I’m calling, Jonathan.” Trenton’s feigned cheer grew icy.

“I thought it might be.”

“I want my files unlocked,” Trenton said.

Trenton’s voice was full of barely disguised malice. Talking to him sent a chill down Jonathan’s spine. “Trenton, I want to know why you killed those people.” Jonathan had no reason to play coy any longer.

Trenton breathed deeply. “Every great achievement requires…sacrifices, Jonathan. I would think you, as a Christian, would agree.”

Jonathan became indignant. “Sacrifices? What you’ve done is nothing short of mass murder, Trenton. If that’s what your research has achieved, then there’s no way I’m going to unlock those files—now or ever.”

Trenton’s breathing grew heavier, but the outburst Jonathan waited for did not come. “Jonathan, let’s be reasonable. Perhaps if we could simply meet and discuss this? After all, we are still family.”

“I hope you won’t hold it against me if I refuse,” Jonathan said.

“A public place, Jonathan. I’m not going to harm you. I just want to talk about this. It’s true. The mutagen in its present form will greatly shorten our lives, but I’ve come up with a modification to counteract that effect. I can save both our lives, Jonathan. Surely that’s worth at least hearing me out.”

Jonathan considered it. “The Branton Mall. I’ll meet you in the food court at 10 a.m., okay?”

“Perfect, cousin. I look forward to it.” He hung up.

Jonathan closed the cell phone as Joseph pulled the car over to the side of the road. “How can you agree to meet him?” Joseph asked. “He’s become a cold blooded killer.”

“Trenton told me he’s modified the mutagen formula to counter the Full Burn effect. He needs his files to complete the modification and save both our lives.”

“Hey, I’ve got the same power he does,” Jonathan said. “I think I can handle him. Besides, if he killed us, he would never get his precious research. At this point, I’ve got nothing to lose by talking to him. If I’m lucky, I might just talk him out of going through with anything that might lead to more deaths.”

•••

Trenton hung up the public phone and spat on the sidewalk. Now it was clear. The boy living with Jonathan was the key to getting his files back. The little delinquent had hacked his system and encrypted his files. Bad decision.

Trenton looked at one of the advertising displays until it showed him the time—midnight.

The streets were virtually deserted in Hilton this time of night. Trenton surveyed his shabby, bullet ridden attire. “I need some new duds.”

Trenton walked down the street until he found a clothing store. He jerked the security gate open and kicked the glass doors in. An alarm shrieked at the intruder. Trenton walked inside and filed through racks of men’s clothing, until he found something appealing to him.

He stripped off his tattered, blood-soaked clothing and dressed in a pair of black leather pants. He pulled on a black, short sleeve, spandex shirt, then retrieved a black leather trench coat from a nearby rack. A pair of Gortex boots completed his new look, just in time.

He watched a police cruiser pull up outside the front of the store. The officer stepped out and retrieved his pump shotgun. Trenton wasted no time. He leaped through the front window, catching the officer by surprise. The policeman tried to aim the gun at him, but Trenton outmaneuvered him and seized the weapon. The officer went for his pistol as Trenton smashed him in the side of the head with the butt of the shotgun. The officer went down like a sack of potatoes. Trenton aimed the gun at the unconscious man, then reconsidered messing up his new outfit. “This is your lucky night, Officer,” he said. “It wouldn’t do for me to meet my cousin with blood on my clothes.”

Trenton walked around to the driver’s side of the police cruiser. The door had been left open and the keys left in the ignition. How convenient.

Trenton started the car, put it in gear with a smile, and closed the door. He pulled forward in a sharp turn, hitting a large bump in the parking lot. “Oops! Sorry, Officer!” He cackled and spun the vehicle around in the street, then gunned the accelerator in the direction of Branton.

•••

Michael Stamos sat stunned inside the police surveillance van. A paramedic gave him oxygen through a mask, like a fussy mother hen. “I don’t believe it.”

“It’s Jonathan Hallowed’s cellular line for sure, Detective. We’ve been monitoring it just like you said,” the surveillance technician said.

17 BRANTON MALL

Meeting Trenton at Branton Mall, almost twelve hours later, had given Jonathan, Joseph, and Jay a little time to prepare. Jonathan spoke into his hidden receiver-transmitter. “No matter what happens, Joseph, you have to keep Jay away from Trenton. He’s the only one who can unlock those files.”

He noticed there weren’t as many people in the mall as he might have thought, but then Jonathan rarely went to such places. Joseph always did the shopping for his clothes and any other needs—he only need request something and his longtime friend attended to it. Joseph had even seen to his attire today—one of Jonathan’s Ivy League tee shirts, a pair of jeans, and sneakers. Jonathan wanted to fit into the middle class Branton scene, and just in case Trenton started trouble, he needed freedom of movement.

“I’ve spotted him,” Joseph said through the receiver. “Coming up in front of you, near the yogurt shop.”

Jonathan surveyed the people coming from that direction and spotted Trenton almost immediately—only he didn’t look like Trenton. What has this stuff done to you? Jonathan thought. Trenton looked like a first rate, psychopath gang member, right out of Donalee. Men, and women, doing the mall-walking routine, gave him a wide birth. He wore all black attire, and his thick hair was greasy, slicked back, falling in curls upon the collar of his leather trench coat.

As he sauntered toward Jonathan’s table, Trenton stuffed an entire half of a sub sandwich into his mouth and chewed it. He washed it down with an upended two liter bottle of soft drink. Trenton tossed the empty bottle aside. He slapped his hands down on the table and took the seat opposite Jonathan. “One thing about it, cousin, being a god sure does make you hungry.”

Jonathan baulked at the remark. “You’re not a god, Trenton. I mean look at you…you’re a highly acclaimed geneticist, top of your field, and here you are dressed like a thug. Not to mention, you’re a wanted killer.”

Trenton cracked a smile. “It doesn’t have to be like that, cousin. Let’s play nice. You have the kid unlock my files, and I’ll save you from a short life.”

Jonathan’s expression remained stoic. “My life isn’t what’s important here. You’re a threat to everyone around you now.”

Trenton reclined in his chair, surveying the mall around them. “If I’m such a threat, then what’s to stop me from killing everyone in this mall, right now? Maybe I’ll decide to show them all just how powerful a man can become—”

“—I wouldn’t let you do that,” Jonathan said. “I’d stop you.”

Trenton grinned. “Maybe, but some of them would die anyway…or you could simply do this the easy way and give me back my formulas.”

Jonathan grew tense, getting ready for a fight. In his mind he was already rehearsing aikido moves in order to take Trenton down fast and subdue him.

Trenton focused his attention behind Jonathan. “Or I could just take them back myself.” Trenton kicked the table into Jonathan’s stomach. The table pinned him against a column as Trenton leaped over two other tables and a display. Jonathan whipped the table away and stood up. He saw Trenton running for a nearby escalator. “Joseph, he’s spotted you!” Jonathan said into his transmitter. “Get Jay out of here!”

Jonathan saw Joseph pull his handgun and pull Jay away from the second floor railing where they had been keeping an eye on him and Trenton. Jonathan took off after Trenton, only half realizing the people around him had pulled guns from their shopping bags, purses, and coats.

“Freeze Hallowed! This is the police!”

Trenton and Jonathan both stopped. When Jonathan saw Detective Stamos as one of the disguised shoppers, he realized he wasn’t the man the police were after. Trenton laughed when he saw Michael revealed. “You again, Detective? Didn’t I teach you well enough the last time we met?”

Trenton disregarded the police presence and sped up the escalator, leaping over five and six steps at a time until he reached the top. Detective Stamos, and a hundred other officers in disguise, surged after him.

•••

Joseph held tight to the hoodie Jay was wearing as they retreated from the escalator where Trenton had stopped when the police revealed themselves. Police officers on the second level ran past them trying to intercept Trenton coming up the escalator. “Freeze!” one of the officers yelled. “Trenton Hallowed, you’re ordered to surrender, or we’ll open fire!”

Joseph turned in time to see Trenton reach the top of the escalator. He stopped, glaring at them. From what Joseph could tell, the police really meant business. They brandished submachine guns, pistols, shotguns, and Tasers, in addition to the body armor they all wore.

Trenton sneered at the police, then lunged forward after two SWAT officers. They fired on him, but didn’t slow him at all. He punched one of the men through his riot helmet, cracking it into two pieces. Trenton snatched the man’s submachine gun and shot the officer next to him at point blank range. The officer went down as bullets strafed his body. Even with a flack jacket on, he had been hurt bad.

The other officers used caution, considering their two fallen comrades lying on the floor in front of him. Trenton opened fire on them all. The officers scattered for cover as submachine gun fire erupted between the two sides.

Joseph pushed Jay down, behind a nearby bench, and took aim with his own 10mm Glock. He touched the trigger, and a red laser sight activated. He placed the beam on Trenton’s head, then fired. The first shot hit Trenton square in the temple, getting his attention. He screamed, then staggered, and grabbed the wound. He looked at Joseph—vengeance burning in his eyes—then evaded the next two shots and ran wide in an attempt to flank Joseph’s position.

Joseph grabbed Jay up and ran toward a department store ahead. He didn’t want to think about how Trenton had just survived a direct hit to the skull with a 10mm round. He had to get Jay away from him.

Taser bolts punched through Trenton’s leather coat, instantly sending current through his body. He stumbled and fell, skidding across the newly waxed floor under his own momentum. The female officer, holding the Taser gun, approached as Trenton tried to get up. She lit him up again with another burst of electricity. Trenton growled at her, raising his weapon despite the officer maintaining the voltage.

More police officers shot him with Tasers, doubling, tripling, and quadrupling the voltage delivered. Trenton buckled under the electrical load and spasmed upon the floor. The submachine gun fell out of his hand, and one of the officers kicked it away. Joseph turned to watch, after entering one of the department stores.

“Jay, keep going,” Joseph instructed. “Hide in the sporting goods department and find a weapon if you can.”

Jay resisted. “What about you and Jonathan?”

Joseph spotted Jonathan topping the escalator with Detective Stamos and smiled. “I see him. He’s all right. You’re the one we have to keep away from Trenton. Now go! He might still escape the police.”

Reluctantly, Jay turned and sprinted through the forest of clothing racks and disappeared. Joseph watched the officers close in on Trenton. After what they had all seen, they weren’t about to stop pumping him full of voltage. Joseph instinctively kept his weapon ready, although he wasn’t sure what good it would do him at this point.

Detective Stamos called out to the officers. “Don’t get near him, he’s still dangerous!”

As if on cue, Trenton exploded off the floor, sweeping his arms out, sending Taser wielding officers in every direction. He ripped the wire leads from his body and picked up one of the Taser guns. Trenton fired it at Detective Stamos, when he and Jonathan got within range.

Michael tried to get off a shot, but the Taser leads connected first. The shock sent him tumbling to the floor. Jonathan leaped toward Trenton, hammering him with a flying kick. Trenton slammed into a heavy, urn shaped trashcan. Jonathan didn’t even give him a chance to recover.

He jumped after him, but met Trenton’s Gortex boot with his chest. Jonathan fell backwards, then rolled up to his feet again. Trenton got to his feet, and they squared off in the middle of a group of wounded officers. Joseph put a bead on Trenton again, but Jonathan was still too close. Even with his expert marksmanship, Joseph wouldn’t take any chance of hurting Jonathan. More officers moved into position, but Detective Stamos instructed them to hold their fire while Jonathan stood in the fray.

•••

“You shouldn’t have done this, Jonathan. I’ll make you regret it,” Trenton said.

Jonathan shifted his stance and waited. “While you were in the lab, I was learning how to fight. Take a look around you. If anyone is outmatched here, it’s you.”

“Whatever happened to that turn the other cheek stuff, cousin?” Trenton taunted.

“You’re a murderer, Trenton,” Jonathan said. “I’m not going to let you hurt anyone else, if I can help it.”

Trenton looked around at the police officers surrounding them, then to Jonathan, and smiled. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.” He tapped his temple with a bloody index finger. “We may both have brawn, cousin, but I’ve still got brains over you.”

Trenton produced what appeared to be a cell phone, then pressed a button on it.

An explosion ripped through the food court behind them. Glass storefronts shattered everywhere as the concussion wave threw people to the floor. Jonathan hit the ground instinctively, then looked up, searching for Trenton. He was gone.

Jonathan got to his feet, searching amid a cloud of gray smoke rapidly filling the area around them. He remembered Joseph and Jay, then ran toward the department store up ahead. When Jonathan got within the entrance, he found Joseph lying among a group of shattered glass, display cases. He knelt next to this friend. Joseph was unconscious, battered, and wheezing.

Jonathan had never expected to see Joseph in this condition. His balled fingers appeared broken—perhaps he’d gotten a few punches in after all. Within seconds, Trenton had nearly killed a man trained in some of the most lethal techniques used by any military.

Jonathan searched around for Jay, then he heard the police firing on someone. He saw Trenton burst through an emergency, exit door like a deranged elephant and disappear. He did not have Jay with him. Jonathan sighed, returning to his inspection of Joseph.

Jonathan emerged from the smoke, carrying Joseph in his arms—something he had never had the strength to do before. Jonathan spotted Detective Stamos and walked toward him. When Michael saw Jonathan, he holstered his sidearm and ran to help, instructing one of the other officers to get paramedics inside at once.

“Jonathan, let’s lay him down. I already have paramedics on the way,” Michael said.

Jonathan laid Joseph down gently. Detective Stamos bundled his own jacket and slipped it under Joseph, cradling his head and neck.

18 UNDER LOCK & KEY

Jonathan sat on the edge of the hospital bed in an isolation room at Memorial Hospital in Branton. Doctors had already put him through a battery of tests. After being stuck numerous times for blood samples, Jonathan watched with fascination as the holes all disappeared within a few seconds time. Amazing.

Jonathan flexed his arm where the needle sticks had been. He felt stronger than he ever had. “I ate the food anyway, but you’re right—lousy. The mutagen has not only made me stronger and able to heal really fast; it’s made me hungry all the time too.”

Michael sat down in a chair and scratched at his five o’clock shadow. “I talked to the doctor about some of the test results they’re getting back. It seems your metabolism is running wild. Your heart rate is up, blood pressure is high, and of course your appetite is trying to compensate for all of the energy you’re burning. They want to do some strength tests on you later in the employee gym, after hours.”

“I want to see Joseph and Jay.”

“Joseph is still in surgery, but doing fine,” Michael said. “He had a punctured lung and a cracked sternum, among other things. Jay is in protective custody down at the station.”

“Not if he doesn’t know where he is, which is why I’d rather not say for now,” Michael insisted. “Just trust me. I don’t want that psycho to get the kid anymore than you do. We really need you to do these tests for us. Unless we understand what that mutagen has done to the two of you, we stand little chance of catching Trenton.”

“You mean, killing him, don’t you?”

Michael looked him in the eyes. “If that’s what it takes, Jonathan. We didn’t start this, but we had better finish it, or this guy is going to kill a lot more people.”

Jonathan lay back onto the bed. “I never would have imagined his research could cause all of this. You know Trenton actually believes he has jumpstarted human evolution.”

“Really? What do you think?”

“I don’t believe in evolution, Detective. I believe the Bible—that man was created upon the earth in the image of Almighty God. No. Whatever this mutagen is, it’s not something to make man better.”

“Of course, Jonathan. I’m sorry that we’ve been putting you through all these tests, but we need to understand what’s happened to you. Detective Stamos tells me it’s quite urgent we find a way to stop Dr. Hallowed. Incidentally, I’ve followed some of his research over the past year—very radical, to say the least.”

Michael inserted himself into the conversation. “So you’re saying it’s not this evolution thing?”

“On the contrary, Detective. I quite agree with Jonathan—man was created by God. This mutagen Dr. Hallowed has created is something far more deadly than some miracle strength drug. It somehow bypasses the regulatory functions at the cellular level, sending the body into overdrive—strength, agility, healing—it’s turned them both into supermen, of sorts. However the effect is short lived.”

Michael looked curious now. “What do you mean?”

“We read one of Trenton’s files labeled, Full Burn,” Jonathan said. “It talked about the same sort of thing—that years would be taken off our lives by using these powers, unless the formula was altered to compensate for it.”

“I’m afraid it’s worse than that,” Dr. Vasquez said. “At the metabolic rate your body is being forced to function, it could kill you within a year.”

Jonathan sat there stunned—Dr. Vasquez’s last phrase ringing over again in his mind. Only one year to live! Lord Jesus, why is this happening to me. What have I done to deserve this? Please help me.

Dr. Vasquez and Michael both stood there looking as though they had already purchased flowers for his funeral. “Trenton said something about being able to counter that effect. Is that possible, Doctor?” Jonathan asked.

“I’m afraid genetics is not my specialty. I only know your body can’t run at this level indefinitely. As jacked up as you are, your organs will begin to self destruct. The harder you push yourself, the faster it will come. In the meantime though, I’d like to have you do a strength test for us. We won’t push you hard, Jonathan. I promise.”

Somehow, Dr. Vasquez’s promise wasn’t very reassuring right now, but Jonathan still felt led to cooperate. “All right, but then I want to see Joseph.”

Dr. Vasquez smiled and waved him toward the door. “Okay, but not until he’s in recovery.”

•••

Trenton pressed the channel up button on the television remote as he sat upon one of the double beds in room #32 at the Starlight Motel on the outskirts of Branton, bordering Donalee. There had been a single occupant staying in it when Trenton arrived. The man had cracked the door on the chain lock. Trenton simply pushed. The chain snapped and the door cracked the man in the side of the head with enough force to render him unconscious.

Trenton had taken the man’s keys and promptly loaded him into the trunk for safe keeping, while he used his room. The whole affair reminded him of gangster movies he’d seen. He smiled. In the back of his mind, he was toying with whether, or not, he should leave the man there. He probably would.

In the meantime, more pressing business demanded his attention. Trenton watched the previously recorded news footage—wounded people being evacuated from the Branton Mall, earlier in the day. Also, they were displaying a very poor picture of him from a scientific symposium he had attended two years ago. He glanced at himself in the mirror. Much better now.

In addition to the mall footage, he watched video clips of the Genetic Corp building, still closely guarded by even more police officers than had been there the night before.

“They have a whole army of police officers at their disposal. It’s not fair,” he said.

You should have an army of your own—you are a god after all.

“That’s true. Why should I have to do all the work alone? My research will benefit all mankind—I’m doing it for them. They should help me retrieve what I need, but where can I find people who are willing?”

Where better than the streets and those whom the police persecute on a daily basis?

A news article appeared on the television—a case against the notorious crime lord, Ming. The police had failed, again, to produce any evidence with enough substance to convict him.

Trenton smiled. “Yes, but where to find him.

Have those who work for him arrange a meeting of the minds between you.

“Yes, but I don’t know who works for him, or how to find them.”

They all work for him. To find a criminal, one need only to go where criminals breed.

•••

At the very least, Jonathan was glad for a set of clothes to replace his exhibitionist hospital gown—a tank top shirt, sweat pants, and tennis shoes. He sat down on the Nautilus bench press seat and waited.

Dr. Vasquez walked around the machine. “I’m going to set this for 300 pounds to start,” Dr. Vasquez said. “That’s still an impressive weight, especially for a man your size.

He slid the pin under the plate marked 300. Detective Stamos watched, leaning upon the door frame.

“All right, Jonathan, let’s see you do a rep with this,” Dr. Vasquez said.

Jonathan grabbed the bar and slid it away from his chest on the track. It moved easily and he did the rep with little effort. He set the weight back into place and looked at Dr. Vasquez. He seemed unfazed, but the expression on Detective Stamos’ face was astonishment.

“Very good, Jonathan. Now, let’s try something a little bit heavier,” Vasquez said. He reached around the machine and moved the pin to another weight setting. “Now, try this.”

Jonathan grabbed the bar again. “How much weight is this?”

“I’ll tell you after you lift it.”

Jonathan shrugged, then pushed the bar away from his chest. It did take some effort this time. The weight was noticeably more, but it wasn’t killing him to do it. The stack of plates went up, and then back down smoothly. Jonathan felt the whole machine shudder as the stack returned to position with a clack.

Now when Jonathan looked around at everyone’s expression, they were all astonished. Jonathan squirmed around on the bench, so he could clearly see where the pin was set. It had been placed under the entire extended stack of plates—a total of one thousand pounds.

“I can’t believe it,” Michael said, from the doorway.

Jonathan could hardly believe it himself, but he knew for certain he could have lifted more.

19 FRIEND OR FOE

By the following afternoon, Trenton had abandoned the car he had taken from the gentleman at the motel in Branton. He didn’t feel bad about the theft since he had been kind enough to leave the man with his car—though still locked in the trunk.

Now, he strolled down Queen Avenue in the heart of Donalee. Trenton walked briskly down the cracked, uneven sidewalk. Trash blew by him, carried on a steady malodorous breeze. He stepped over the homeless along his route. Once or twice, he even stepped on them, smiling. He was looking for something specific—a point of contact with Ming.

The streets were crowded today. Children played in the streets, riding skateboards and bicycles. Some were already preparing for life in Donalee by committing vandalism. “This is repulsive,” he said to himself.

This is my kind of town—the lower elements thrive here. This is where an army can be built—an army of gods under our control.

“This is no army—these are not gods,” he said to himself.

They will be, once we get the mutagen formula—they’ll be an army of slaves at my command.

“What about me?”

You’re already mine, Trenton. You belong to Nemesis.

Trenton stopped in the middle of the street, arguing with himself. People walked by, wondering at the man.

“I’m Trenton Hallowed—my own person.”

I am you and you are me—we are one—we are Nemesis—we are a god now.

Trenton smiled. “Yes, a god. I did it. My research made this possible.”

We did it—you are nothing without me.

Trenton began walking again. “We did it. I’m Nemesis. I’m a living god.”

Yes. Now we gather our army.

Trenton spotted, among the dirty streets and downtrodden, exactly what he had been looking for. A young oriental man, dressed in black, in a parking lot. He was sitting inside of a black BMW, with several other similar cars parked nearby. Several men were positioned around him wearing sunglasses. They were all armed, but none of them were trying to hide it. Perfect.

Trenton walked right into the parking lot where they were. The men went on alert—guns at the ready. After all, either he was coming to score some drugs, or he was trouble.

A nervous young man passed a full money clip into the window of the BMW, then received a plastic baggy. When he saw Trenton, he almost tripped, trying to get out of his way. Trenton spotted the contents of the baggy and recognized it as the latest drug of choice—Joy.

He let the boy pass and approached the car instead. A sawed-off, double barreled shotgun peeked over the driver’s window. Trenton heard several of the men slide and release the firing bolts on their submachine guns. They meant business.

“Aren’t you that dude they’ve been showing on the news?” the young oriental man asked.

“I’m looking for your boss—Ming—I want a meeting with him, now.”

The drug dealer laughed along with his cronies. “You must be as crazy as they’re saying, man. Nobody meets with him, especially not some psycho like you!”

Trenton smiled, then he kicked the driver’s door in so hard it sent the man, and his shotgun, into the passenger seat. Trenton grabbed the closest thug with a machine gun, whipping the man around in front of him for a shield as the others fired. Bullets tore into his hostage, but Trenton held him up and used the man’s submachine gun to shoot the others.

When the last one fell, he dropped his spent human shield and walked back over to the drug dealer in the black BMW. The man tried to roll his window up, but Trenton brought his forearm down on the roof so hard it caved in, shattering the window.

The man screamed. “Don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me!”

The roof of his car sat just above his head, as though an elephant had sat on it. Trenton yanked the rear door off the hinges and pulled the drug dealer out, holding him off the ground. “As I said before, I’m looking for your boss—Ming—I want a meeting with him, now.”

The young man nodded his head vigorously. “Yeah, no problem, man.”

He took a cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open. Trenton set his feet down on the ground. The drug dealer hit the speed dial, while Trenton smiled fiendishly at him.

•••

Dusk had come by the time Trenton pulled one of the drug dealer’s damaged BMWs up to a tall building—the place where his passenger had instructed him to drive. They had taken one of the other cars from the parking lot. It had several bullet holes, but still ran nicely.

The glass and steel skyscraper looked entirely out of place in this low, crime filled neighborhood in Donalee. Trenton drove the car right up to the revolving door and slammed on the brakes. He got out of the car, then pulled the young drug dealer out on his side, as well. “Lead the way,” Trenton ordered.

He kept a tight grip on the young man’s arm and approached the door. Trenton stopped short of the revolving door trying to figure out how to get both of them through without letting the man go. The little weasel would run for sure, as soon as he got an opportunity.

On cue he said, “Hey, man, let me go in first. I promise I won’t run.”

Trenton gave him an appreciative look, then picked him up bodily and heaved the man through the glass window to the right of the door. Trenton then pushed his way gingerly through the revolving door. He picked the drug dealer back up off the floor on the other side.

The trip through the window had cut him up. Though covered in broken glass, he was still conscious. Inside, Trenton saw several men with machine guns covering him and his prisoner. “I’m here to see Ming!” he shouted.

The men looked at each other, the banged up drug dealer, and the glass on the floor. Then one of them produced a television remote, aiming it at a large flat panel monitor on the back wall of the vestibule.

A mid-forties oriental man with medium length, raven hair appeared on the screen. His fingertips sat steepled in front of his face, as he looked out toward the vestibule. “Dr. Hallowed, I understand you have gone to considerable effort in order to see me today,” Ming said. “Why?”

Ming rubbed his chin. “I see. Of course, if you wish to negotiate, then you’ll have to come up to my penthouse. If you make it, then I’ll be convinced you actually have immortality to bargain with.”

The screen went black. Immediately, Ming’s armed guards raised their weapons and opened fire, without regard for the hostage. Trenton bolted away, leaving the drug dealer to become human Swiss cheese. Trenton pulled a pistol he had been carrying with him since the mall incident, and dropped the first guard as he flanked them.

Trenton dropped, rolled, and came up firing. He took as many hits as he gave. But only he could afford to. With the guards down, Trenton got up, then confiscated their weapons and ammo clips. Apparently, he was going to have to prove himself to Ming in order to gain his help—and unfortunately he did need his help.

He slung three submachine guns over his shoulder by the straps and carried another. His trench coat pockets stuffed with ammunition, Trenton decided on the stairs, rather than the elevator—which was probably expected—in order to make his way toward the penthouse and Ming.

20 THE TOWER

Jonathan had to fight back the tears, when he finally saw Joseph in the Intensive Care Unit. He was still unconscious—recovering from his recent surgery. A ventilator fed the bodyguard oxygen, while chest tubes and a drain system carried fluid away from his thoracic cavity. A half filled Foley catheter bag hung from the side rail of his hospital bed.

Jonathan sat down in a chair next to him and grabbed his once strong hand only to find it limp. “I never expected to see him this way.”

Michael stood at the end of the bed, surveying the cluster of monitors measuring Joseph’s vital signs. “He’s still a tough old guy, Jonathan. He’ll pull through this.”

“It makes me wish he had this power and not me. Then his wounds would just heal themselves.” Jonathan stopped, closed his eyes. “No, I don’t know what I’m saying…this mutagen is just a death sentence.”

“You don’t know that for sure. There may still be some way of counteracting the effects,” Michael said.

“What I don’t know is why the Lord allowed this to happen. If I was meant to die, then I should have just died. Then Joseph and Jay wouldn’t be going through all of this.”

“Where’s your faith, Jonathan?” Michael asked.

“What?”

“Don’t you believers always talk about having faith? Well, what about now…maybe there’s a very good reason why you’re still around. Maybe you’re the one who has to stop that psychopath running around out there. I’m beginning to wonder if we mere mortals can do anything to stop him.”

Jonathan sat up. “He’s no god, Mike—just a fallen man with too much power for his own good. I might not be able to see the reason for all of this, but you’re absolutely right. I have to believe the Lord has a reason. Thanks for reminding me.”

Michael looked at his watch. “As soon as Dr. Vasquez clears you, then we’ll head over to Precinct #7, in Branton. It’s the largest, with the most fortification. He couldn’t be in a safer place in the whole city.”

•••

Trenton examined the elevator level indicator before taking to the stairwell. The penthouse was on the twentieth floor. The first thing he noticed, as he started up to the second floor landing, was a camera mount. He’s going to be watching me the whole time.

Trenton gritted his teeth in anger, then ran back down the steps to the first floor landing. Another set of steps continued down from there to the basement. That will do nicely.

He ran down the steps and crashed through the basement level door. There was a parking garage located here and a few men guarding it. They spotted Trenton and opened fire. Trenton ran along the concrete wall, returning fire with one of the submachine guns. Sparks leaped away from the wall as a hail of bullets trailed after him. He managed to get behind one of the concrete support pylons, using it for cover.

Ming’s men closed on his position. Their assault pocked the concrete pylon, sending chunks of debris in every direction. Trenton popped out, fired, then ducked back again. Two guards went down. He repeated the maneuver until he had killed the other men, then began searching for the thing he had come to this level to find.

Trenton found a power station on the other side of the parking garage, behind a concrete barrier. “Come to papa!” He opened up with his machine gun, blasting away the side panels, shredding the controls, and severing vital connections. The fluorescent lighting in the parking garage flickered, then went black. Within seconds, low level emergency lighting came on.

“Ming has a generator, but that won’t power anything except the bare essential lighting—not the security cameras,” Trenton said to himself. Trenton turned back and ran for the stairs again. Despite the darkness, his enhanced eyes could still see well enough. Now he clearly had the advantage. I’m coming, Ming!

•••

Jonathan noticed bits of old blood, not cleansed at the hospital, passing away with the water down the drain. A hot shower was just what he needed, after his fight with Trenton. When Jonathan stepped out in front of his bathroom mirror, he saw the bullet wounds from his near death event almost completely healed. Even the scars were fading into normal skin. Amazing stuff you’ve come up with, Trenton, he thought.

Jonathan bowed his head. “Father, please help Joseph to get better and help me to stop Trenton. Whatever he’s planning is not going to be good. He’s hurt a lot of people, Lord. Please stop him. Amen.”

He finished toweling off and put his clothes on.

When Jonathan came out of the bathroom, Detective Stamos was waiting in the living room. “Thanks for stopping by the house to let me get a shower and change before we go to the police station.”

•••

Michael waited in his unmarked police car. The cool night air felt good so he left his window down. He heard the faint whine of an engine. It grew much louder as a deep red, sport bike emerged at the top of the driveway, on the right side of the house. Jonathan pulled up to Michael’s driver side window and raised the mirrored visor on his full-face helmet. “You like?”

“Very nice,” Michael said. “How about getting something to eat before we head over to the precinct?”

“Sounds good,” Jonathan said. “That’s one thing about the mutagen—all of this strength comes at a price—I always feel like I’m starving.”

Michael turned the ignition key and his hemi-powered Dodge Charger growled to life. “Follow me, if you can keep up,” he taunted.

Jonathan smiled. “I’ll try.”

•••

Trenton had only encountered five guards in the stairwell on his way to the penthouse. He had managed to take them down without gunplay, in order to avoid alerting Ming’s men to his route. The building remained without power and relatively dark.

Trenton opened the stairwell door on the penthouse level and seized a guard standing at the door smoking a cigarette. He snapped the man’s neck before he could make a sound. Trenton crept into the corridor. Light shone through some of the windows down the hallway, illuminating other men who were guarding Ming’s apartment.

Rather than alert these men to his presence by a head-on assault, Trenton used the fire extinguisher case mounted on the wall to reach the ceiling. He pushed several ceiling tiles out of his way and grabbed hold of heavy pipes, pulling himself inside the space.

Trenton crawled to the point where the wall of the apartment intersected and then over into that space. He passed a vent and looked into the room where some men were talking. One of the voices sounded like Ming. He adjusted his angle and clearly saw the man sitting in a large, leather chair at the end of a long, oval shaped table. At least fifteen men stood around the room armed with submachine guns.

Trenton smiled and began a quiet hand-over-hand trek toward the leather chair and Ming sitting in it. He listened to the guards trying to contact others over wireless headsets in a vain attempt to locate him. He had crawled upside down along the pipe to Ming’s approximate position, then Trenton pushed away hard from the pipe with enough force to explode downward through the cardboard, ceiling tiles.

He landed near Ming, whipped out a large knife, and placed it on the man’s throat, holding him securely in the chair. Trenton grinned. “Hello, Ming!”

Gun mounted flashlights whirled to his position, fixing on his face, but no one fired. “Hello, boys,” Trenton said. “I’ve come to negotiate with your boss.”

Laughter came from the jumble of flashlights—the same voice—Ming. “Lights on,” he said.

The room illuminated instantly, at his command. “Certainly, I would be glad to discuss the matter with you, Dr. Hallowed. But first, you should release Cho.”

Trenton gritted his teeth. Ming stood among his guards with a machine gun slung over his shoulder. He smiled and waited. Trenton moved the blade away, and allowed Ming’s decoy to stand. As Cho moved out of the way, Trenton raised one of his own machine guns, pointing it at Ming and his men. “Now the odds are a little more even.”

Ming motioned for his men to lower their weapons, then he took a seat at the opposite end of the oval table, motioning for Trenton to do the same. “Please sit down, Dr. Hallowed. I understand you have immortality to bargain with.”

Trenton lowered his weapon last and then sat down in the leather chair opposite Ming. “How about a drink first? I’m sure you can understand I’m a little parched from my trip.”

Ming gave Trenton a wan smile, then snapped his fingers. One of the men flanking him walked over to a wet bar in the corner.

“How about something with lots of sugar?” Trenton asked. “I need my energy.”

The man stopped short of the liquor and pulled a cold two liter of soda from the refrigerator. He sat a glass on the bar to fill it.

“I’ll just take the bottle,” Trenton said.

The guard left the glass and brought the bottle. He sat it on the table next to Trenton, then walked back to Ming’s side. “I applaud your ascent through my tower—very nicely done,” Ming said. “How is it that you’ve come by these abilities of yours? I’ve been following your story in the news—most intriguing.”

“I’ve developed a powerful genetic mutagen which boosts strength, reflexes, healing, and speed, through a regenerative process beginning at the cellular level,” Trenton said. “I’ve already sustained fatal wounds, several times over, but I’m still kicking.” He paused for effect. “I’m willing to share this with you, and your men, in exchange for your help retrieving my formulas at the Genetic Corp building.”

“That building is heavily guarded by the police right now,” Ming said.

“I realize that. The fact of the matter is I have to have someone to decode the vault—a boy who encrypted my files and shut me out just before I could retrieve my spare cylinders of mutagen gas.”

Ming grinned. “Ah, Detective Stamos, I know him very well. He’s been a thorn in my side for several years now. Were you the one who killed his partner?”

Trenton smiled. “Believe me, it was my pleasure. Anyway, once we find the boy, we’ll have to break into and out of the station where they’re keeping him. Can you organize something like that?”

Ming smiled, bowing his head slightly. “Leave it to me.”

21 ASSAULT

Trenton observed the people in the back of the truck with him. Ming had outfitted him with fifty of his people—mostly men—but all hard-as-nails criminals. The three armored cars they rode in lumbered along the highway into Branton.

“What time is it?” Trenton asked.

One of the men looked at his wristwatch. “Ten past midnight—right on schedule.”

Trenton and the others checked their weapons. They carried submachine guns, concussion grenades, and tear-gas bombs—all from Ming’s private stock. Everyone wore black with black face paint, and Kevlar vests, including Trenton. He didn’t want to take on damage unnecessarily. Every bout with body damage drained him and he felt, even now, he could use a full day’s sleep.

The sliding window to the cabin unlatched and opened. A man in the passenger’s seat of the truck peered through. “Sixty seconds, everybody.”

“Here we go,” Trenton said, “and be sure you don’t harm the boy.”

Weapons locked into firing position and military issue gasmasks, carrying night-vision capability, were pulled down over their faces. The truck lurched to a stop in front of Police Precinct #7 in Branton. Trenton burst out of the back of his armored car facing the precinct’s glass and steel façade. He raised his submachine gun, with grenade launcher, and fired a grenade through the glass door into the lobby, where two officers stood, manning the security pass door.

The grenade exploded. Glass flew everywhere. “Let’s go!” Trenton ordered.

The teams from each of the three black armored cars filed out into the parking lot, fully armed. They followed Trenton toward the building. He kicked the doorframe in, leading them through.

The entire lobby of the police station had been torn to pieces. The bodies of two police officers, and several men, hands still cuffed behind their backs, lay sprawled on the debris strewn floor. The charred security door had buckled a little, but still held firm.

One of Ming’s men tried it, but couldn’t get it to budge.

“Watch out!” Trenton planted a Gortex boot near the dead bolt, kicking the door in. It gave way with a loud pop. Trenton fired on several officers coming toward the door as he ran through. The other members of his team followed him inside.

One man had been designated to cut the power. As Trenton ran through the booking room, the lights went out. The screaming increased. Trenton and his team switched on their night-vision and began to spread throughout the precinct. The only light came from emergency lamps and muzzle flashes.

Trenton grabbed one of the booking officers, pulling him out from under the desk where he had been hiding. “I want the boy Detective Stamos brought here today!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” the officer said.

Trenton grabbed the man’s hand and squeezed until several bones snapped. The officer screamed in pain. “Tell me where he is, or you’ll die a slow death right here.” He squeezed the injured hand again.

“I’ll tell, I’ll tell!” the officer screamed. “Third floor! Security Lockdown #5!”

Trenton dropped the man’s hand. He fell into the desk chair cradling the fractured limb. “Good, you’ve avoided a slow painful death—have a quick one instead.” Trenton opened up on the man with a burst of machine gun fire, then moved on. He spoke into his headset. “Team one, third floor—Security Lockdown #5. I’m going for the stairwell.”

“Copy!” Team one’s leader replied.

•••

Jay heard an explosion that shook the entire building. He had been startled by it because he was hacking the police database on one of their PCs at the time. He stopped typing immediately. An alarm blared somewhere on a floor below. Officers in the hall outside of the room where he was being kept, shouted questions and orders.

Jay tapped into the surveillance video system from his current link. He had tried not to smile, when asking the officer in charge of his care if he might be able to use the internet to play an online game, while he waited in the employee lounge.

“Sure kid, just don’t get on any sites you shouldn’t,” the man had said.

“No problem,” Jay had replied. Little did they know whom they were leaving on one of their network computers.

Jay brought up video feeds from as many cameras as would fit on the display at one time. The lobby camera showed only static. The first floor cameras, however, came alive with activity—men in black outfits, carrying machine guns as they stormed the precinct.

Jay heard the cacophony of gunfire filtering through the building. He rushed to the bullet proof window pane and peered down into the parking lot. Three black, armored cars sat parked in front of the building. Exhaust vapor condensed briefly and then faded into the cool night air. They’re coming for me, he thought.

Everything went dark. The lights, television, and the computer all snapped off, leaving only the staccato of machine gun fire, fading screams, and a thunderous heartbeat racing inside his chest. Jay realized he was alone and defenseless.

He stumbled to the wall and picked up the phone—nothing. Jay had not been allowed to bring his laptop into the precinct. He walked over to the door and opened it. Most of the officers in this section stood beyond a bullet-proof window meant to keep people out. They were partially illuminated by one of the emergency backup lights in the hallway. Jay saw that the officers were outfitted in Kevlar vests, carrying machine guns of their own.

Trenton had to be behind this. It was simply too coincidental. How he had managed to recruit these people and persuade them to attack a police station was beyond Jay’s comprehension, but it smacked of Trenton Hallowed, all the way. Jay counted ten police officers guarding the stairwell. He hoped they would be enough to stop the people coming for him.

•••

Trenton stood before the third floor stairwell access door. He knew more police officers would be waiting on the other side of the door. He waited while other members of his team came up the stairs after him. Trenton kicked the door open.

The police officers in the hall beyond immediately opened fire on him. Trenton fired two grenades into the fray before the door closed itself again. The hallway exploded into a fireball that blew the door open and propelled Trenton into a concrete wall.

He stood up again with his weapon in hand and walked through the shattered doorframe into the hall where the ambush had been waiting. Broken bodies decorated the corridor. To his left, Trenton noticed the bulletproof Plexiglass windows remained scorched, but intact. The scarred lettering read, “Security Lockdown #5.”

Trenton pounded his forearms into the barrier over and over, again. His increased strength quickly won out. The Plexiglass began to buckle, forming spider web cracks across its surface.

•••

Jay scrambled through the room, after the explosion killed the officers barring Trenton Hallowed from taking him. He searched frantically for guns, but the only ones were locked tight in gun cabinets. He opened a locker and rifled through the contents until he found a couple of useful items.

He looked over his shoulder and saw Trenton cave in one of the Plexiglass windows. Another hit forced the floor to ceiling barrier out of his way. Emergency lighting provided just enough illumination to silhouette the man, causing him to appear even more menacing.

“No use hiding boy. I can see you just fine, even in the dark,” Trenton said.

Jay stood up. “What do you want with me? I didn’t do anything to you.”

Trenton laughed. “Oh, didn’t you? I’m not so stupid to think that Jonathan could’ve locked me out of my own database. You might be a little punk, but you’ve got skills with a computer.” Trenton walked through the dark toward Jay. “I don’t want to have to kill you, kid. We’re going to go for a ride. Then you can remove the encryption on my files. After that, I’ll let you walk.”

Jay allowed Trenton to get within twenty feet of him before opening fire. Two barbed metal prongs shot out from Jay’s hidden Taser gun, attaching to Trenton’s chest. He didn’t respond, except to laugh at Jay’s effort. Trenton pulled the leads free, tapping his chest with his knuckles. “Ha! Kevlar, kid. Sorry to disappoint you.”

Jay whipped out a second Taser gun from behind his back. “No problem!”

He fired the prongs into Trenton’s face this time. The leads gouged into his cheek, and the current rolled into his body. He stood trembling at the mercy of 50,000 volts of electricity. He fell to his knees, then lunged forward, slapping the Taser pistol from Jay’s grasp.

Jay tried to bolt past him, but wasn’t fast enough. Trenton caught him and tossed him into the wall. “Tranquilize him!” Trenton shouted. Trenton’s team came into the room and picked Jay up off the floor. He felt a pin prick in his back. Seconds later the room spun around him and everything went black.

•••

The Branton sign passed by on Michael’s right at seventy miles per hour. He checked the rear view mirror again. Jonathan and his sport bike remained glued to his rear bumper. They had been speeding a bit on their way to Police Precinct #7 in Branton, but traffic was virtually non-existent at this time of night.

Michael’s radio suddenly erupted with calls for help. “Shots fired, shots fired—we’ve got officers down at Precinct #7—armed men have blown the place wide open—we can’t keep them out!” Gunshots resounded in the background. “Anyone, we need—”

“Good grief!” Michael tapped the siren switch on his dash. Blue lights came on at the front and rear of the Charger. He waved a hand out the window signaling Jonathan to follow, then he punched the gas pedal all the way to the floor. The hemi roared, the body vibrated slightly, and off he went.

In his rearview mirror, Michael saw Jonathan’s front wheelie hop off the pavement as he sped up in pursuit of the Charger. Michael torqued the steering hard to the left. His car squealed sideways across the pavement, through the barren intersection, leaving a trail of white smoke and black rubber for Jonathan to follow. The candy apple, sport bike fell over at a hard angle, its tires bit into the asphalt, then bike and rider lunged forward after the police car once again.

They covered several miles in what seemed like mere seconds. When they had the police precinct in view, a half mile away, Michael saw the muzzle flashes of machine guns. The assailants intended to make a get away in three black armored cars. He’d seen them before, used in jobs all over Imperial City. “Ming!”

As he got closer, Michael spotted Trenton Hallowed carrying the boy in his arms. He appeared to be unconscious, or dead. Surely they didn’t kill him!

Michael didn’t bother to stop afar off. As more of Ming’s men followed Trenton Hallowed out of the gutted police precinct, Michael aimed right for them. They realized too late what was happening, but still managed to shoot at him. Machine gun fire peppered the black Charger’s grill and hood. The windshield shattered as bullets pocked it full of holes. Michael kept his foot on the gas and plowed through Ming’s men, then hit the brakes hard, spinning sideways to stop behind one of the armored cars. Machine gun fire came from the precinct behind him and the armored car in front of him. Michael forced his driver side door open and rolled onto the pavement. He came up with his pistol over the trunk lid and capped two of the assailants as they tried to close the rear door on their armored car.

The first armored car screeched away, leaving a plume of white smoke rising off the parking lot. The second armored car began following, as more gunfire erupted from the officers still able to fight, emerging from the shattered front of the precinct in riot gear. Michael grabbed a submachine gun from one of Ming’s dead crew and ran to the cab of the third armored car.

The driver saw him and stepped on the gas. Michael fired into the driver’s side window. Bullets peppered the bulletproof glass relentlessly until it could take no more. The pane fragmented, and his shots penetrated. Crimson dashed the windshield as the driver fell over. The truck veered out of control and hit a street light in the parking lot.

Michael found Jonathan running to the rear doors of the armored car. Jonathan tore them open, and gunfire erupted from within. The other officers joined them, opening fire on the vehicle’s interior until those inside either surrendered, or lay dead.

Michael looked inside as Jonathan jumped in. He searched among the bodies. “He’s not here, Michael!”

Jonathan grabbed one of the three assailants standing with their hands behind their heads in the back of the armored car. “Where is the boy?” Jonathan asked. He lifted the man off his feet, and slammed him against the wall of the truck. “Where?”

“He’s in one of the other trucks—Hallowed has him!” the man confessed.

Jonathan dropped the man and ran out of the truck. He picked up his sport bike from the place where he had let it fall. “I’m going after him, Michael. Trenton wants the encryption codes.”

“Not without me, you’re not.” Michael pulled a Kevlar vest from one of the officers standing nearby and began putting it on. “Somebody, give him a vest, now!”

22 PURSUIT

Jonathan raced through the streets of Branton—a candy apple red blur with a busted ferring on one side where he had laid it down at the police station. Ahead of him, Michael’s bullet-ridden Dodge Charger screamed down the road, its blue lights flashing and siren blaring. Jonathan spoke into his helmet microphone, now tuned to Michael’s police frequency. “Are you sure they would take him there?”

“Those were Ming’s trucks,” Michael said. “If they wanted to get him someplace secure, they’d take him to Ming’s tower in Donalee.”

Ahead on the road, Jonathan spotted one of the black armored cars with its lights out. He’d only spotted it as the street lamps reflected off the moving target. “Up there! I see one of the trucks!”

“I knew it! They’re trying to get to Ming’s tower downtown.”

“How do we stop an armored truck?” Jonathan asked.

“I haven’t thought that far ahead, yet,” Michael said, then he jammed the gas pedal to the floor again, and the Charger sped toward the armored truck.

Jonathan followed, knowing he would have to come up with some way to get Jay out of there without getting them all killed. Trenton would be in there with him. He twisted the throttle grip, propelling the bike forward.

“They’ve spotted us!” Michael said. The truck pushed another car off of the road and hopped off the pavement coming onto the Jefferson County Bridge.

Jonathan passed Michael’s police car on the right side to avoid the wrecked car, then fought to catch the truck. He hit the incline leading onto the bridge doing 80 mph, and caught air before landing hard again. He kept the bike under control and surged forward.

A panel slid open on one of the rear doors of the truck, and a machine gun barrel pushed through. Fire and hot lead blasted from the muzzle as the gunman tried to hit Jonathan. He ducked low behind the sport bike’s fiberglass ferring. Their erratic driving did little for their aim. Sparks ignited from the pavement around Jonathan as bullets skimmed the street and ricocheted off the bridge’s steel girders.

Jonathan gunned the throttle again and came up on the left side of the truck. The driver swerved at him, and Jonathan backed off just enough to avoid getting sideswiped. The gunman tried to maneuver the machine gun barrel in order to get at Jonathan again, but the angle proved too difficult. The gun barrel turned back in the door as the black Charger approached.

Michael fired his own machine gun first and peppered the rear doors with bullets before they could return the favor. He kept the heat on them until the gun panel closed again. Michael maneuvered up to the right rear bumper with his car.

The armored car driver continued to swerve back and forth, hoping to keep his pursuers at bay. The truck left the bridge with Jonathan and Michael still hot on its trail. The rear door opened up just enough for one of the gunmen to open fire again. This time, bullets riddled Jonathan’s motorcycle, driving near the left rear of the armored car. The fiberglass ferring exploded into fragments. Sparks leaped from the engine. The headlight burst, along with the front tire.

“I’m coming Jonathan!” Michael swerved from the right rear of the armored truck to Jonathan’s position. Bullets punctured the gas tank. The bike exploded underneath Jonathan as the black Charger came along side blocking the rest of the gunfire. Jonathan jumped up and rolled from the bike onto the roof of the Charger, trying to douse the errant flames clinging to his clothing. The motorcycle veered away into a parked car, tumbling several times before it stopped. It lay burning behind them as the chase continued toward Ming’s tower in the distance.

“Jonathan, are you all right?” Michael shouted into his headset.

Jonathan lay on his back on the roof of the speeding police car, clinging to the sides of the roof with smoke rolling off his singed clothes. His helmet mic still functioned. “I’m okay.” He rolled onto his belly, hanging on for dear life. Michael returned fire through his fractured windshield, forcing the gunman to close the rear door again. “Bring me alongside!” Jonathan shouted.

Michael sped up again. Jonathan moved quickly, leaping from the roof of the Charger to the hood, then sprang upward toward the truck. He caught the edge of the truck’s roof and used his new strength to pull the rest of his body aboard. The driver swerved again, forcing Jonathan to roll to his belly and spread eagle in order to grasp the sides with his hands and feet. Michael backed off again with the Charger.

“What now?” Michael asked.

“I don’t have a clue.” Jonathan looked ahead. They had reached the tower. The truck pulled through the plaza in front of the tower and lurched to a halt. Michael came right on their heels.

Gunfire came from every direction when the Charger entered the courtyard, with its many concrete planters and decorative statues. More of Ming’s men poured around the armored car to defend it. The Charger swerved under fire as Michael ducked down in his seat. He crashed into one of three decorative fountains setting in front of the building.

Ming’s men tried to disembark from the rear of the armored truck, but Jonathan was still there waiting. He leaped off the roof and caught several by surprise. He pummeled three of the gunmen before they realized what was happening. Jonathan took two of their machine guns and opened fire on the others in the courtyard. They returned fire, but quickly gave up the truck to retreat into the building.

Jonathan pulled the rear doors open. “Jay?” But no one else was inside.

He ran to the wrecked Charger with Michael still inside. The water spraying from the fountain cascaded over the destroyed Dodge, sparkling with vibrant color as the blue police lights illuminated the scene like a freakish piece of modern art.

Jonathan pulled the crushed driver’s door open. “Michael, are you hurt?”

Michael groaned and blew water away from his face, allowing Jonathan to remove him from the wreckage. “I think so. Where’s the boy?”

“He wasn’t in the truck,” Jonathan reported.

“The first truck must’ve gotten here way ahead of us. Ming will have him tucked away somewhere inside.”

They both looked at the tower before them. At the lobby level, Ming’s men had already sealed the steel shutters into place. “We need more police officers,” Jonathan said.

“There’s no one available,” Michael said. “This whole business with Trenton has taken a toll on us. We’ve still got a bunch of officers assigned to guarding your Genetic Corp building. He’s teamed up with Ming, of all people. He could hold us off for a week in there.”

“Jay doesn’t have a week,” Jonathan said.

“I know.” Michael checked his Kevlar vest, then picked up a machine gun and inspected the clip for ammunition. He tossed it to Jonathan, then retrieved another for himself. “That’s why we’re just going to have to go inside after him ourselves.”

23 UNEXPECTED GUESTS

Jay woke up foggy-headed. His tongue felt like a piece of cardboard stapled to the roof of his mouth. “Rise and shine, sleepy head.” Trenton sat before him on a side bench inside the armored car. “Time to give me those encryption codes,” Trenton said.

Jay noticed the places on Trenton’s face where the Taser barbs had embedded, then been ripped out. The wounds had almost completely healed already. “I don’t have a computer and I’ll have to do the work myself,” Jay said.

Trenton grabbed his neck and squeezed. “Sure you will. Don’t play games with me boy, I’m not a patient man today.”

Jay fought for breath. Trenton released his grip, and Jay filled his lungs with air. “I’m not kidding, man! I don’t just make up codes,” Jay said. “I have a certain formula for doing encryption and I have to work through it to get the code again.”

Trenton’s face turned to stone. “Are you saying my data is at the mercy of some encryption formula you have to work out? You could end up with anything that way!”

He grabbed Jay’s foot and twisted his ankle, until the bone popped. Jay screamed in agony. “You little rat, I want my data!” Trenton said. “I may not hurt those magic fingers of yours, but I’ll start at your feet and work my way up, until I get what I want!”

Jay tried to breath through the pain. He thought he might pass out. “I’ll give it to you, I promise. I have to have a computer in your network. I’ll get it back for you.”

The others people, inside the armored car, laughed at his pain. Trenton slapped the broken ankle again. Jay screamed.

“That one was just for fun, little man. Let’s get you inside to a computer. You had better have my work unlocked within an hour, or you’ll never walk again.”

•••

Jonathan and Michael circled the building under cover of darkness.

“How are we going to get into this place other than the front door?” Michael asked. “Ming’s men will have every entrance guarded. He’s a thug, but he’s no fool.”

“I just had an idea and maybe—there it is!” Jonathan ran toward a window washing rig that was attached by cables to a pulley system on the roof, thirty floors up.”

Michael stopped short when he spotted it. “Whoa, wait a minute. I don’t know about this.”

“What’s the matter?” Jonathan asked. “We can take this and get off on any floor.”

Michael shot him a cold stare. “No, you don’t get off on any floor. You’ll have to go through a window—you’ll have to leap from that thing into a busted window.”

“No, I’m afraid of plunging to my death from heights,” Michael said. They stared at one another for a moment, until Jonathan cracked a smile.

Jonathan followed, climbing onto the platform. The key had been left in the control box. He turned the key, and the indicator flashed from red to green. “We’re good. Here we go.”

Jonathan used the joystick control to raise the platform. The control worked on an X and Y axis control, giving them the ability to move vertically and horizontally across the face of the building.

Michael looked down, closing his eyes as they ascended.

•••

Ming watched the window washing rig rise on the western face of his building through a video monitor. He laughed to himself. “Do they take me for a fool?” Around Ming, his men said nothing. “You see how they fall into my trap?” he said. “They think they will sneak up on me in my own home. I have a nasty surprise for them. Go up to the roof and cut the cables—shoot them away if you have to, but make sure they do get high enough to make a good mess on the pavement when they fall.”

Two of Ming’s men nodded, leaving the group to do their master’s bidding. The others, twelve in all, remained. They wore black apparel with hoods draped down over their backs. “The rest of you, be prepared. If they should get inside somehow, you will show them what true ninja can do.

•••

The wench motor hummed as the gantry platform rose into the air alongside Ming’s building. Michael tried to find a good place to focus his attention, but every angle made his stomach queasy. “How are you doing?” Jonathan asked.

Shots rang out above them, and the metal platform dropped down at one corner. Michael lost his balance and slammed into the safety rail. He peered down, becoming dizzy. “What happened?” he shouted.

Jonathan looked up and saw movement near the pulley system, then a muzzle flash. The sound traveled to them almost at the same time the second cable broke. The platform tilted vertically. Michael pitched forward, and fell away from the window washing rig. He screamed, as he clawed the air for a handrail to save himself.

Jonathan snatched Michael from the air by his Kevlar vest and held the detective suspended over the pavement below. “I’ve got you!”

“Yeah, but who’s got you?”

Jonathan held on to the rail directly above them where two cables remained—the only two cables still holding them away from death down on the street below.

“Michael, you’re going to have to do something,” Jonathan said. “Someone up there is shooting the cables!”

Michael rotated his submachine gun strap over his shoulder, and looked up through the scope. He toggled to night-vision. A man appeared in the viewfinder. The man placed his own gun next to one of the remaining two cables. “I’ve got him,” Michael shouted. Then he fired a burst from his machine gun.

Sparks erupted around the steel, pulley brackets nearly ten floors up, on the roof. One of Ming’s men took several hits, and fell away from his task.

Another shot rang out above them, and a third cable snapped. Jonathan strained to keep his grip on Michael as the platform began to spin around the lone support cable’s mount. Michael fired his machine gun at the other man on the roof. “I didn’t get him.”

Michael obeyed. He opened fire on the huge window pane across from them, on the building. The pane exploded sending a cascade of glass fragments down toward the street below. “Now what are we going to do?” Michael asked.

Jonathan swung Michael’s body away from the platform, and then snapped him back toward the building, and released. Michael screamed, as he realized what Jonathan was doing. He sailed through the air toward the building, then through the busted window. He tumbled across the floor inside.

Jonathan grabbed the remaining cable with both hands, tapped the wench control with his foot, then kicked the bracket housing which held the cable in place until it broke free. As soon as the mount shattered, the cable shot away from the gantry with Jonathan in tow. Without the weight of the wash platform, the wench pulled him toward the roof very fast.

Jonathan watched the platform fall away and crash into the pavement below. Just as the cable would have brought his hands into the pulley, Jonathan let go, and grabbed the steel bracket hanging over the building edge. Ming’s ninja looked shocked when Jonathan appeared right in front of him. Jonathan kicked the man in the head hard enough to knock him out before he could fire another shot.

He swung his body over the edge of the building, and landed on the roof. When he examined the man’s weaponry, Jonathan found firearms, and to his delight, a ninja sword—black handle, black blade. “Oh yeah,” he whispered.

He walked across the roof, toward the access door that would take him down into the building. A blade, like the one he had just taken, cut the air with the slightest whistle. Jonathan ducked, allowing the strike to pass. Another ninja attacked him with a high kick. Jonathan blocked with a forearm, then swept the man’s other leg out from under him. He fell, then sprang up again as yet another ninja closed in with his sword.

Jonathan smiled. Years of training suddenly came to a boil within him. The ninja lunged at him. Jonathan allowed the sword to pass, stepped inside, and elbowed the man hard enough in the ribs to knock him backwards onto the gravel covering the roof.

Jonathan turned, ready with his weapon, and met the first ninja’s weapon in mid-strike. Their swords struck together over, and over again like angry vipers. He matched the ninja blow for blow. Another two joined in the fight.

Jonathan found himself surrounded. All of them came at once. Jonathan dodged two strikes, rushed the third man, countered, then parried the fourth, and finished him with a devastating roundhouse kick. He heard something snap in the man. The ninja fell, and didn’t rise again.

Jonathan rushed two others, snapped the leg of one, and punched out the second. The remaining ninja threw two shurikens. Jonathan snapped his blade up, and the weapons clanged off the metal harmlessly. He lunged, and disarmed the man with a quick flourish his instructor had taught him.

The ninja flipped backwards, then pulled a handgun, and fired as Jonathan followed. The ninja unloaded a clip of twelve rounds into his chest, but Jonathan kept coming. He struck the handgun so that it flew out of the ninja’s hand. He spared the unarmed man, but knocked him out.

Jonathan checked his weapons, then ran for the door. Whoever this crime lord, Ming, was, he now worked with Trenton, and he could show him where to find Jay.

•••

Michael lurked in the dark corridor on one of the floors below Ming’s penthouse apartment. Fortunately, his men hadn’t anticipated Jonathan’s insane maneuver. Michael had thought he might have a heart attack, when Jonathan pitched him toward the interior of the building. The young man’s new strength had saved his life, instead.

Still, Michael crept cautiously. This was Ming’s domain. He almost certainly had surveillance throughout the building. A door opened, and two men entered the hallway shooting at him in the dark. I knew it!

Michael returned fire, ducking for cover inside an office cubby. He’d never known exactly what sort of business Ming conducted in this building during the daylight hours. No matter what the front was, the middle aged Chinese gangster had never been an upstanding citizen.

The desk, and partition filled up with holes, as the men laid down a steady stream of machine gun fire on Michael’s position. A computer monitor exploded on the desk above him, while he hunkered on the floor, waiting for his opportunity to return fire.

“Richard, what I wouldn’t give to have you here with me one more time,” he whispered. Then Michael rolled out from behind the partition, and fired.

24 GOOSE CHASE

Jonathan had decided on another entry into Ming’s top floor apartment. He had been repelling before, but nothing like this. He tied the steel cable to the satellite dish housing with knots cinched up using his great strength. It wouldn’t give, even if an elephant did what he was about to do.

Jonathan tried to measure out the appropriate length of cable. Soon he would see if he was right. He took hold of the last three feet on the other end and ran for the roof edge. Jonathan leaped away from the top of the building with only the cable tethering him.

The cable allowed him so much length before it caught, became taut, and pulled him back, gravity pulling him down. Jonathan swung in an arc which sent him barreling directly into, and through, the panes of mirrored glass that brought a skyline view into Ming’s penthouse apartment. The panes exploded inward upon impact.

Jonathan let go of the cable, tumbling across the floor before leaping back to his feet. He ran screaming at the men guarding Ming inside his living room. Jonathan leaped over the plush leather couches and kicked the mahogany coffee table up like a soccer ball. It hit one of the men and knocked him out of the way.

The guards fired their guns, but Jonathan flew into them like a rabid animal. He absorbed most of the gunfire with his Kevlar vest and kept coming. The men fell before him like grass to a charging rhinoceros.

Ming ran for the exit on the other side of his spacious, luxury condo. But when he opened the door, a gun barrel came through the opening, touching his temple and pinning him to the wall. Michael held his submachine gun to Ming’s head. “Don’t go anywhere just yet, sweetheart,” he said, smiling. “We’ve got some unfinished business to attend to.”

•••

“Tell me again, how you had nothing to do with all of this, how that psych-job just happened to have your men and your equipment.” Michael leaned in close to Ming with his hand cupped to his ear…waiting.

Ming breathed deeply. “I want my lawyer.”

Michael stood, looking at Jonathan. He sat in the shadows Michael’s exchange with Ming. Jonathan’s clothing was torn—bullet ridden and bloody. He felt exhausted, had been through hell and back tonight, and still had not rescued Jay.

Michael sniffed at Ming. “Jonathan, I can’t do a thing with him,” Michael said.

Jonathan got up from the leather chair and walked toward Ming, who was sitting under the only light on in the room. They had tied the gangster up and made him sit on his leather upholstered couch receiving the third degree.

Ming watched Jonathan stalk toward him. “You’re the other one, aren’t you? Trenton said the mutagen he created actually brought you back from the dead. Here you are, shot up, but still alive.”

Michael interrupted the monologue. “So you do know about Trenton Hallowed and his work!”

Ming looked at the detective, replacing his amazement at Jonathan’s seeming invincibility with the same smug expression he had been wearing for the last hour under interrogation. “Name, rank, and serial number is all you’ll get from me until I see my lawyer,” he said.

Jonathan stopped next to the gangster. Michael looked at Jonathan and nodded. “I think I’m going to see if I can find a cup of coffee around this place.” He bent down to Ming’s face, patted the cords wound around his chest, and said, “Sorry, Ming.”

Michael turned and walked toward the door to Ming’s apartment. The smug gangster looked up and found Jonathan seething with anger. Ming gulped down a lump in his throat. Jonathan grabbed him by the ropes, yanking him up off the couch into the air. His feet dangled over the floor.

“The old good cop—bad cop routine? You can’t do this,” Ming cried. “I have rights. I want my lawyer!”

•••

Douglas Tanner sipped his mocha through a split plastic lid. He had managed to balance a glazed jelly donut in the fingers of the same hand, carrying his brown leather briefcase in the other. He stopped at the entry gate wondering why the guard was not on duty. “Carl, I knew I should’ve fired you last month,” he grumbled. Douglas stood on the security pad, leaning in a little for the retina scan as he said his name. “Douglas Tanner.”

The security computer automatically measured his weight, matched his retinal blood vessel pattern, and confirmed his voice signature. A warm, synthesized female voice greeted him with a European accent. “Access granted. Welcome, Mr. Tanner.”

“Good morning, Lola,” he said.

The security door opened before him, and he walked through. Doug took another bite of his jelly donut, careful to slurp the sticky filling off his fingers before it landed on his white button up shirt. He walked down a well lit corridor to his office at the other end and opened the door. “Illumination,” Douglas said. The lights came on at his command.

A deep male voice spoke surprised him. “Good morning, Doug.”

Douglas looked up and saw Trenton Hallowed sitting in his brown office chair behind his mahogany desk. Trenton held a crazy look in his eye. He was dressed in black fatigues. Trenton placed his black Gortex boots on the desk. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Only then did Doug notice the others standing in the room. At least a dozen men, and a few women, stood on the far side of his spacious office, in the shadows. Carl Sanders, the morning security guard, stood before them with a blank stare on his face. One of Trenton’s crew patted the older man on the back. The guard hit the floor like a one hundred and eighty pound sack of potatoes. Doug noticed the bullet hole in the back of Carl’s head.

“Because this is what must be done. Mankind has stagnated long enough,” he said. “I’m just giving humanity a kick in the pants, that’s all. My mutagen is the key to jumpstarting our evolution again.”

Trenton slowly stood up from behind the desk. “I’m not a rat, Douglas. Look at what I’ve accomplished already. I want that Enhancement Serum—now!”

Trenton slammed his forearm down across the face of Doug’s mahogany desk. It split in two and buckled to the floor. Doug gasped.

Trenton smiled. “And I’m in no mood to wait.”

•••

“I think my grip is loosening. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold you up,” Jonathan said.

“NO! Please, don’t drop me!” Ming cried.

Jonathan held the man suspended over the edge of the roof by his ankle. The two hundred pound man felt no heavier than a ten pound dumbbell. But he didn’t allow Ming to know it. Jonathan groaned, as though in a strain, and dropped his arm slightly. Ming’s body bobbed toward the pavement thirty stories below. “No, wait!” Ming pleaded. “I don’t know where he took the boy. He was supposed to come back here with the rest of my men, I swear!”

“Yeah, yeah. That crazy doctor said he could make me immortal like him—said I would have super strength. I believed him, but he lied to me.”

“All I know is we still can’t get into them,” Michael said. “Some of our best guys have been trying for the past two hours to access the database. That kid’s good.”

“I only hope he’s still alive.”

25 HALO TECH

Trenton watched Douglas Tanner, Chief Executive Officer of Halo Technologies and one of its leading scientific minds, as he stood at the security access panel to the main vault. The massive circular door loomed above them fifteen feet high, made of titanium, five feet thick. “Let’s get on with it,” Trenton said.

Ming’s mercenaries waited with Trenton in the main laboratory, one of them guarding Jay, who sat in a chair, unable to walk on his own. Trenton had broken his ankle and used the painful injury to exact the computer access he desired. Once Jay had completed his computation routine, the encryption on Trenton’s files fell like wheat before a scythe. Trenton had already accessed the vault—everything was open to him now. He only had to go to Genetic Corp and claim it.

“With the building on lockdown, it won’t take long for them to realize something is wrong. More employees are trying to get in,” the mercenary said.

Trenton walked over to him—a young Chinese man with tattoos trailing down from his right temple to somewhere under his shirt. “If you don’t have the guts to finish this job, then just say so,” Trenton said.

The mercenary had a pistol in his hand. He could have shot Trenton right there, but it wouldn’t have done him any good. With Trenton’s power and speed, he might have killed the younger man before he could pull the trigger—certainly before the second shot.

Trenton stared the younger man down. He wouldn’t budge. The mercenary slowly holstered his pistol, then tore his eyes and his wounded pride away from the confrontation.

Trenton nodded. “That’s better.” He turned back to Douglas at the vault. “I want that vault open in ten seconds, Douglas, or you’ll be dead.”

Doug rubbed his hands together nervously. “My hands must be too sweaty. The pad isn’t taking my print identification.” He forced a laugh.

Trenton began counting. “Ten, nine, eight.”

Douglas stopped trying to be humorous. He wiped his fingers on his pants furiously, then laid his hand on the pad again. “Access Denied.”

“Seven, six, five.” Trenton walked toward Doug and the vault access panel. He raised his submachine gun, pulled the firing bolt, and allowed it to snap into ready position.

Doug frantically typed on the adjacent keypad. “Access Denied.” He cursed at the computer.

“Four, three, two.” Trenton placed the barrel to Doug’s left temple with his finger on the trigger. “Goodbye, Douglas.”

He typed again—hit enter. “Access Granted. Welcome Dr. Tanner.”

“One.”

The vault door shifted and moved out of its recessed place in the wall. Trenton watched it and smiled. “Very good, Douglas. I knew you could do it.”

Doug heaved oxygen into his lungs in great labored breaths. Sweat rolled off his body in waves. He nodded, smiling, but not for joy. He had walked too close to death and been spared—barely.

Trenton Hallowed had never been the violent sort. Anyone who ever knew him understood him to be a dedicated, driven individual. He gave to charities and helped people with his research. The last few days had changed that perception. Not a person in the room doubted the veracity of his quest for power. Anyone who got in the way of his goal became instantly expendable.

The vault door cleared the wall with the sound of pressurized air spilling into equalization with the rest of the room. Doug motioned to the inner vault as the lights came on inside. The chamber encompassed the size of a football field. Rows of highly lethal weapons and government contracted technologies filled the space with only concrete lanes between them.

Trenton’s mercenaries gazed in wonder at the vast assortment of armored vehicles, crowd control devices, and weapons of every sort that lay before them. A large steel cube stood near the vault entrance.

“The Biohazard Vault,” Trenton said with a smile. “Open it.”

Doug walked sheepishly over to the access panel. Laser guided gun turrets, mounted in the ceiling of the main vault chamber, tracked his every move. Trenton knew they were there. He had them installed when Halo Tech began working on secret, germ warfare agents for the government. Any one of those little beasties could wipe out all of Imperial City, in a matter of days.

Trenton grinned at Doug. “Be careful when you go inside. You wouldn’t want to spill anything.”

Doug wiped his hand on his pants and placed it on the scanner pad. He spoke his special password to the voice recognizer. “Hercules 12.” He placed his right eye in the beam of the retinal scanner. The access LED changed from red to green. The Biohazard Vault door opened.

Trenton watched the gun turrets stand down. He walked into the main vault chamber behind Doug. “Let’s go.”

They walked through the doorway and down the stairs to a level below. A smaller area lay before them. This one held several large containment coolers, each with a coded lock. Granite countertops lined the middle of the passage—workstations with sinks and other equipment necessary for lab work. Cryogenic containment units stood even further down, where another vault door remained.

“Have you kept it in here, or in the cryo unit?” Trenton asked.

“It’s in Cold Locker One, Dr. Hallowed.” Doug went to the locker and entered his pass code. The LED became green, and he opened the door. Cool vapor spilled into the room. Doug reached inside and carefully removed a vial of serum.

Trenton walked over to the table and examined the contents. The label read, Enhancement Serum.

“Tell me about it,” Trenton said.

Doug took pride in his work. “The Enhancement Serum will interact with the Generation X mutagen in your bloodstream. It will bind with the mutagen molecules permanently and be applied to your cellular reconstruction and genetic chemistry.”

“Binds with the mutagen in my blood?”

“Yes. How long has it been since you dosed yourself with Gen X?” Doug asked.

“Nearly two days,” Trenton said. “There won’t be any of it left in my blood. The tissue absorbs it much faster than that.” Trenton took the vial and paced with it, thinking. “What would happen if I took it now?”

Doug considered the possible outcomes. “I’m not sure. It will not bond in the tissue. The Enhancement would take place, but only on a short term basis at best.”

“With the Enhancement Serum still in your bloodstream, it would immediately bind with the mutagen molecules and then be accepted into the tissue. The change would become permanent.”

Trenton grinned. He thought about the accessible vault waiting for him at his own Genetic Corp lab—just ten miles away. “I want it,” he said.

“There’s no telling what it could do to you, Dr. Hallowed. It might kill you,” Doug warned.

“I’m touched, Doug, but I’ve been laughing at death all week long. I don’t see any reason to stop now.” Trenton grabbed a syringe and needle from a bin at the workstation. “What’s the dosage?”

“Ten milliliters, for a man your size,” he said quickly.

Trenton introduced the needle and syringe to the serum vial. He pumped the plunger, withdrawing the required amount from the vial. Doug handed him a smaller needle to use for the intravenous injection, but Trenton stopped him.

“This 19gauge will do just fine. It’ll take that much to get through my new skin.”

Trenton guided the needle into a prominent vein in his forearm. He had to push harder than normal as he had expected. His improved tissues did not like the intrusion. A spike of blood shot into the needle hub. Trenton pushed the entire contents of the syringe into his body. He withdrew the needle and tossed it across the room. Trenton closed his eyes as he felt the serum circulate throughout his body.

Doug licked his lips, pushing his glasses up on his nose. He had seen the effect on lab animals—small ones—but never on a human being. When the serum hit Trenton’s heart, seconds later, he suddenly convulsed and collapsed.

Doug backed away as his former employer-turned-psychopath writhed on the floor. Trenton’s eyes popped open—bloodshot to the point of multiple hemorrhages. Every vein in his body seemed to be screaming for a way out.

Trenton wailed at the top of his lungs. Doug screamed back in terror. What had happened? The animals had not had this kind of reaction at all. Doug backed away, running around the counter. He shot up the stairs with remarkable agility, for someone his size.

Trenton called after him. “Wait! Help me, coward!”

His muscles began to spasm. Trenton tried to stand, but it was impossible. His whole body shuddered under the multiple seizures washing over him like waves of the sea during a hurricane. He wondered what was wrong. Perhaps that fool, Tanner, had given him the wrong drug on purpose. Maybe Doug had even tried to poison him.

Trenton seethed with anger, despite the convulsions wracking his body with pain. He crawled forward to the base of the stairs. Through sheer force of will, he climbed up toward the vault door. He saw Doug at the top. Tanner screamed, pushing the door closed, as Trenton reached the top on his quivering hands and knees.

26 METAMORPHOSIS

“What’s happening?” the young Chinese mercenary said. The others stood at his heels.

“I don’t know. Something is wrong—he’s changing!” Doug screamed as the vault door locked into place. They heard Trenton’s muted cries from behind the steel vault door. The timbre of his voice changed, as he shouted a stream of obscenities at them from beyond. Trenton Hallowed had possessed a smooth, yet menacing tone, but whatever stood beyond that door seemed to shake the ground beneath their feet with its roaring.

They heard pounding, and the thick door vibrated. The pounding on the inner door continued, growing in intensity with each new rage-filled scream. The metal bulged with the next impact.

Doug backed away, intermingling with the stunned Chinese mercenaries from Ming’s personal army. Jay tensed in his chair. The armed woman guarding him paid no attention to her prisoner now, but Jay still couldn’t walk on his own. His swollen, bruised ankle dangled at the end of his leg, sending intermittent pain through him every few seconds.

A Chinese mercenary ran toward the rows of weapons that filled the main vault, picking a grenade launcher he found with a display of ammunition. He loaded the weapon and called for his cohorts to join him. Some of the braver ones followed orders and armed themselves with better weapons than what they had been carrying. The others ran from the main vault, through the lab complex, and out through the security doors beyond.

The pounding remained steady, but then the disfigured steel cube split with a massive pop like a stick of dynamite going off. Something became visible beneath the torn metal—something only vaguely human.

Doug ran to an alarm station and pulled the switch. The huge, main vault door started to close as red warning lights rotated in the ceiling, casting a crimson shade over the entire chamber. A synthesized female voice warned overhead. “Containment breach—lethal organism—containment breach.”

Jay watched Doctor Tanner run out of the main vault toward him. The remaining mercenaries stood inside, armed to the teeth. The steel, vault cube, containing Trenton, burst apart at the seams just as the main vault door obscured Jay’s view of the interior. Trenton’s transformed voice roared at the mercenaries. He no longer sounded like a man at all, but rather some ferocious beast unleashed from the very depths of Hell.

The mercenaries opened fire on whatever had emerged from the underground vault. Jay watched in horror as a massive arm, the size of a tree trunk, bashed one of the men still visible to him. The mercenary flew into the diminishing space between the vault door and its frame. Blood gushed through the opening and sprayed across the lab floor, but nothing more came through.

“Come on, young man, we’ve got to get out of here before all the security doors fall into place.” Doug grabbed Jay, hauling him out of his seat by his clothes. The ankle shot pain through his leg and up into his torso. Jay screamed over the cacophony of muted gunfire and terror-filled shrieks emanating from within the vault.

A steel containment door slowly fell before them. Jay gritted through the pain, as Dr. Tanner dragged him across the laboratory floor. Behind the massive vault door, the shooting sputtered and stopped, like a bag of microwave popcorn nearly done. The screams of terror had subsided as well. Then the pounding of beastly flesh and bone against metal took up again.

“He’s trying to break out of the vault,” Jay said, as Doug carried him toward the security door. The door lowered right to the floor. Doug heaved Jay underneath, then rolled his bulk under just in time. The door fastened itself into place, bisecting the large laboratory room adjacent to the vault.

Roars of anger and pounding filtered through the safety barriers to their ears, like peels of thunder from a distant storm. Only, this storm would tear them both to shreds when it finally arrived.

Doug sat Jay in an office chair and ran to a storage locker in the corner of the room. He used an access code to unlock it. Then he grabbed some of the contents and came back to Jay. Doug held a Mossberg military issue shotgun and a box of shells. He began loading the shells into the magazine while watching the security door.

Jay couldn’t believe he intended to stay and fight this thing Trenton Hallowed had now become. “Are you crazy? That shotgun isn’t going to help us! He just slaughtered a bunch of thugs with assault weapons. None of that stuff did any good before you gave him your drugs and it sure isn’t going to help now!”

Doug continued loading the weapon. “Don’t you think I know that? We just have to hold on until the National Guard investigates the alarms and take the building.”

“The alarms are telling them this building is now a hot zone. They’re not going to infiltrate, believing a deadly germ is on the loose in here,” Jay reasoned.

“I’m hoping they’ll figure out this is all about Trenton Hallowed and come in anyway.”

•••

Jonathan prayed as he sat on the curb outside of Ming’s business building. He still didn’t know what sort of business the gangster had running out of it, but most likely those days were over. It seemed an eternity since this had all started. In truth, only days ago he had been normal, without a real problem in the world. He prayed for guidance, for patience, and most of all for Jay’s safety. They had heard nothing all night.

Michael talked with other officers, now on the scene, concerning the night’s events and Ming’s involvement. The man himself had been treated by an ambulance and then placed in the back of one of the squad cars. A police van had taken custody of the other living members of Ming’s crew left in the building. Most of his enforcers had been sent with Trenton to break into Police Precinct # 7 and remained with him even now.

“Thank you, Lord. Amen.” Jonathan stretched his aching muscles. The early morning sun warmed him, while the flashing blue strobes of fifteen police cars bathed the plaza in azure. His body had taken the ultimate beating over the past few days, beginning with a shower of lead slugs from an assassin’s machine gun inside Trenton’s laboratory.

Despite his new healing ability and increased strength, Jonathan felt like he’d been hit by a train. On top of all the abuse of the past forty-eight hours, he’d gotten no sleep and barely enough food to keep going. Somehow, he always felt hungry. He had seen a television special once on moles, of all things, and remembered how their metabolism was so high that they constantly fed, or else starved to death. He felt that way now. His body was running on overdrive with not enough fuel in the tank.

Jonathan watched Michael finish up his report with the uniformed officer. Another approached him. Michael’s eyes popped open at whatever news he had just received. He sprang over to Jonathan. “Let’s roll!”

Jonathan jumped to his feet. “Did they find Trenton?”

Michael commandeered a police cruiser, with the officer’s permission, and got behind the wheel. “The National Guard is moving on one of your other companies—Halo Tech. Apparently, a containment alarm has been triggered. Employees trying to get into the building found themselves locked out this morning. There was also a report of an armored truck found in the underground parking garage.”

“Let me guess. It’s black?” Jonathan asked.

Michael started the cruiser’s engine and slammed it into gear. “Bingo!”

27 CONTAINMENT BREACH

Jay searched the laboratory with his eyes, hoping to find something that might aid them. The pounding continued from within the main vault, but Jay had little doubt Trenton would eventually free himself. They would be at his mercy.

Doug picked up the phone receiver and dialed out. “I’m going to notify the mayor of the situation and give him access to the emergency codes. They’ll know it’s not a microorganism.”

Jay smiled slightly through his throbbing pain. “That should save some time on them getting to us.” He had seen enough movies to realize only a hazmat team would enter the building under a real containment breach. All that would take too long. Even cutting the red tape would likely do no good.

Jay heard a massive pop and the sound of metal twisting. “He’s getting through the vault door!”

Doug watched the security door, finishing his phone call to the mayor. He hugged the Mossberg shotgun, his finger quivering over the trigger.

“Can’t you just open these other security doors and get us out of here?” Jay asked, watching the steel partition—likely the only thing still separating them from whatever Trenton Hallowed had become.

“I don’t have the access. They’re purposely locked so that only a cleanup team can get in here. If someone trapped in here with a lethal bug could just walk out, then the whole city would be infected.”

Doug’s explanation made perfect sense, so Jay dropped it. They had to wait and hope. He heard several heavy footfalls beyond the remaining barrier. Then it buckled, as Trenton smashed into it. “He’s coming!” Jay screamed.

The steel barrier resembled a wide flexible garage door—the kind used by some businesses to lock up their storefronts. Trenton hit the barrier again. Each time he left a large indention in the metal. A split appeared. Trenton pushed his fingers through, widening the hole until both of his hands fit inside.

He used his leverage to push the split even wider, until his head became fully visible to Jay and Doug in the other portion of the laboratory. Jay got a first look at what Trenton had done to himself. “Hello, boys,” Trenton said.

His skin was blotched and deep red, as though he had severe sunburn. His body had bulged through his clothing. He wore only shredded rags now. Trenton made a large professional wrestler seem small in comparison. The Enhancement Serum had pushed him to the very limit.

His muscles bulged, and his veins pulsed through his skin. Jay wondered how his skin could even contain the grotesque mass of muscle that had developed in just a few minutes. Trenton’s face was contorted and vile—his once fine looks now only a horrible mask.

Only the blood made him even more terrifying to look upon. He had managed to cover most of his body in crimson, through his attacks on Ming’s mercenaries. Some of the blood had to be Trenton’s, as well. Bullet holes had almost completely healed already, after the shootout in the vault. Trenton carried no weapons, but he had been the only survivor.

Doug raised the shotgun, took aim, and gave a final warning. “Dr. Hallowed, please don’t come any closer. I don’t want to harm you.”

The beastly man laughed at the threat. “My dear, plump, Dr. Tanner, Trenton Hallowed is no longer in. Nemesis is in control now.”

Nemesis lunged at Doug. He fired the shotgun over and over again at the approaching juggernaut. Jay watched each slug hit this new Nemesis creature in the chest, but he kept on coming.

An indicator light on the security door behind them changed from red to green. The door had been unlocked. Someone had arrived to rescue them.

Nemesis charged Dr. Tanner and his shotgun like a rabid silverback gorilla. He hammered a swollen fist into the doctor, sending Doug flying over one of the lab workstations and his gun skidding across the tiled floor.

Nemesis shifted his attention to Jay and came at him. The steel security door opened, and National guardsmen in gas masks entered the room behind Jay. When they saw Nemesis charging at them, they raised their submachine guns and opened fire.

One of the guardsmen grabbed Jay around the waist and hoisted him out of the office chair. Nemesis reacted to the onslaught of gunfire as though swatting at bees. He leaped sideways toward the laboratory wall, then sprang back toward the guardsmen.

They spilled out of his way like pins smashed by a bowling ball. Their line of fire now completely disrupted, Nemesis grabbed them and hurled them around the room like rag dolls. Some of them opened fire again, terror written on their faces.

The soldier carrying Jay rounded a corner with him, as another symphony of pain issued down the hall after them. Screams of men resounded with accents of machine gun fire until—once again—silence reigned supreme.

•••

Jonathan and Michael tried to make sense of the chaotic chatter playing out over the squad car radio. Rather than reports of Ming’s men, or even sightings of Trenton Hallowed, the topic concerned only a crazed beast that had been unleashed at the Halo Tech facility.

Michael looked at him, considering, then back to the road. He punched the gas pedal even harder. “We’ll be there in less than a minute.”

•••

Jay hung in the arms of the soldier who had rescued him. At least, he hoped it would end up as a completed rescue. Nemesis had done away with the soldiers who had come into the laboratory and apparently Dr. Tanner, as well. The beast now chased them through the hallways.

“He’s coming,” Jay said urgently.

The soldier tried to pick up his pace, but it wasn’t easy with a fifteen-year-old boy in his arms. Angry howls followed them through the halls, reverberating around so that it became difficult to know which direction they had come from. Jay spotted a hulking shadow dash along a wall behind them, then disappear just before the creature itself came into view. Nemesis charged around the corner like a bull in a china shop. His bloody, bare feet slid on the tile floor, leaving scarlet skid marks. He slammed into the wall, out of control, and caved in the sheet rock. Ceiling tiles fell around him as he tried to get his body under control.

“Hurry!” Jay shouted, even though he knew the soldier was doing all he could.

Nemesis launched out of the destroyed wall, sending sheetrock, two-by-fours, and a cloud of dust in all directions. He emerged madder than ever, slinging slobber as he ran toward them.

More soldiers ran past Jay to intercept the monster Trenton had become. They opened fire as he and his rescuer crashed through the front doors. Jay saw National Guardsmen attack, but Nemesis did not stop. He plowed right through the soldiers and kept coming.

Jay’s rescuer slowed down when they emerged outside. Military vehicles had formed a semicircular perimeter around the front of the Halo Tech building. “Don’t stop, he’s still coming!” Jay shouted.

The soldier turned in time to see Nemesis explode through the glass facade of the Halo Tech building. The soldiers in the parking lot opened fire with machine guns. It only seemed to make the creature angrier.

Jay noticed Jonathan and Detective Stamos come screeching to a halt in the parking lot, driving a typical black and white police cruiser. They both got out of the car and ran toward the firing line to get a look at the new Trenton Hallowed. “Take me over there,” Jay said, pointing to Jonathan. The soldier complied.

•••

Jonathan spotted Jay in the arms of a soldier who was carrying him through the crowd. He ran to him, keeping an eye on the monster in front of the Halo Tech entrance. Jay’s leg appeared to be broken, but otherwise, he was in good shape.

Jonathan took the boy from the soldier and carried him back to the police car they had arrived in. Michael joined him. “How is he?”

“He broke my ankle,” Jay said. “I’ll be all right.” He turned to Jonathan. “I knew you wouldn’t run out on me.”

Jonathan held up a hand, and Jonathan clasped it. “Never.”

Nemesis wailed under the gunfire, but he only became more enraged. He leaped into the crowd of National Guardsmen. They tried to get out of the way, but some were crushed under him, while he swatted others, ferociously knocking them into the air over cars and into trucks.

One soldier mounted an M60 machine gun turret, set up on the back of a jeep, and opened fire. Nemesis took several hits, hissed at the man, then leaped behind a squad car. He then lifted the entire car off the ground and hurled it thirty feet, into the soldier and jeep, crushing them both in an explosion of glass and metal.

Jonathan stood up. “I’ve got to stop him.”

Jay’s mouth dropped open. “Are you crazy? You can’t stop that thing! Did you see what he just did? Nothing stops him!”

Jonathan turned on his friend. “Somebody’s got to try, Jay!”

Just then, Douglas Tanner emerged from the building by a side exit. Jonathan ran to intercept him, before he wandered into the fray with Trenton and the guardsmen.

“Jonathan, thank Heaven you’re still alive!” Doug said, stumbling.

Jonathan caught and steadied the man. “I was just thinking the same about you, Doug. What’s happened to Trenton?”

Nemesis smashed shoulder first into one of the National Guard trucks, heaving the big vehicle out of his way. He took off down the street away from the fight.

Doug bit his lip. “Trenton has had me working, for some time, on an enhancement to his mutagen. I took on the project personally and was glad to do it. Trenton’s work was very exciting—the things he hoped to accomplish—very revolutionary.”

“Yes, I know what he hoped to accomplish,” Jonathan said. “Anyway, what happened?”

“Well, he arrived this morning and was waiting for me in my office with the boy and a bunch of thugs. Trenton forced me to give him the Enhancement Serum. He injected it and started reacting violently to it. I don’t understand what happened. The lab animals never reacted that way.”

“All right, but why is he trying to get back to Genetic Corp now?” Michael asked.

Doug continued. “The Enhancement Serum will not bring about any permanent changes in anatomy, or physiology, unless the mutagen is present in his blood. He has to dose himself up within six hours or the enhancement will revert back to normal—at least as normal as he was before taking it.”

Jonathan and Michael shared a hopeful glance. “He’s on foot—we could catch him easy enough,” Michael said. “It’s a good ten miles to Genetic Corp from here.”

Jonathan considered it. “Yeah, but what would we do when we caught him? I’m beginning to wonder if Jay isn’t right. I don’t know how we can stop him. He’s too tough to get anywhere with bullets. We’d have to have a tank.”

They both examined the mess Nemesis had already made of the National Guardsmen and their equipment. “I don’t see any tanks,” Jonathan said.

Michael paced back and forth next to the squad car. Some of the soldiers tended to their wounded and dead. Others had already mobilized and were about to take up the chase. Some radioed ahead, expecting to get reinforcements to intercept the creature before he harmed anyone else.

“I’ve got an idea,” Michael said.

28 DECOY

They all three looked at Doug. He sat on the curb, surveying the destroyed front of the Halo Tech building. He realized they had gone silent. “What?”

“If we drop the building on him, will it stop him?” Jonathan asked.

Doug scratched his double chin. “Difficult to say. I’ve never seen anything like this. Trenton picked up a car, for Heaven’s sake. Still, if you dropped a building on him, I don’t imagine he would survive. It all depends on how potent the mutagen is and if he is able to dose himself again while the Enhancement Serum is in his system.

“Better than an hour for a building that size, and that’s moving along at a good clip, and zero safety precautions,” Michael explained. “We can stop at Stonewall Demolition on the way and commandeer the charges I’ll need.”

Michael walked over to some of the soldiers who were preparing to depart in a jeep, going after Trenton. Jonathan smiled and knelt down to Jay’s level. “Sometimes we have to make sacrifices to help others.”

“I’m the only one who can do this. Somehow, some way, this is where the Lord has brought us. I’m the only one who has any hope of standing against that thing Trenton has become. Do you understand?”

Jay’s face hardened. “I’ll say I understand it, if that’s what you want to hear, but I don’t like it a bit.”

Jonathan smiled. “Nobody said we had to like it.”

Michael called out from where the soldiers had loaded up in the jeep. “Hey, Jonathan, these guys will take you to intercept Trenton, while I go after the explosives.”

Jonathan nodded. “I’m coming.” He turned back to Jay. “You stay with Michael until he gets to Genetic Corp, then you stay out of that building.”

Jay tried to lift his leg a little, wincing under the pain. “I don’t think I’m going far on my own, anyway.”

Jonathan walked over to the jeep, where the soldiers waited. Michael shook his hand. “Be careful out there. He won’t hesitate to kill you, if he can.”

“I’m not making any funeral plans just yet,” Jonathan said. “I’ll try to give you all the time I can.” Jonathan climbed into the back of the jeep behind the two soldiers. He strapped in as they pulled away, headed after the Nemesis creature.

•••

Michael climbed into the police car. Jay was sitting in the passenger seat. “I don’t suppose you care to sit this one out, kid?” Michael asked.

Doug walked over to the window. “No, detective. I think, if your plan does work, we’ll still need a safe way to dispose of Trenton’s remains. The mutagen, plus the Enhancement Serum, will attempt to repair the damage once he’s out of the rubble from the building. I’ll see if I can mobilize one of my cryo teams. If we can freeze what’s left, then at least we have a real chance at doing him in for good.”

“Sounds good, Doc. We’re outta here.” Michael put the cruiser in gear and pulled out of the debris laden parking lot. “Next stop, Stonewall Demolition Company, kid!”

Jay stared out the windshield and whispered, “Don’t call me kid.”

•••

Ten minutes later, Michael’s police cruiser squealed into the parking lot of the Stonewall Demolition Company. Some of the work crew watched as the police cruiser barreled into a parking space sideways, sending up puffs of white tire smoke. The men, wearing hardhats, murmured among themselves as Michael sprang from the driver’s side door and ran into the foreman’s office.

The small brick building housed only a few old metal desks, one very obsolete personal computer, and an even more obsolete owner. The old codger sat at the desk farthest from the front counter, apparently watching television. He evidently had not heard the bell on the door when Michael came in, for he remained seated with a blank look on his face, staring at the screen.

“Hello!” Michael called. The man still did not acknowledge him. Michael waved his hands in the old man’s direction until he looked up from the screen. “Hey, old man, I need some help!”

Instead of getting up, the old man smiled and waved back. Michael shook his head and motioned for him to come up to the front. The old man reached over and turned down his television, then said, “Do you need some help, young man?”

“Yes!”

“Be right there in a jiffy,” the old man said, getting up out of his chair. He began walking toward the counter, but stopped, turned, and searched for something next to one of the other desks. He pulled a walker out, placed it before him, and began shuffling toward the counter. Michael sighed, “I don’t believe this.”

The old man took over a minute to walk twenty feet with his walker, despite Michael trying to hurry him along.

“Just hold your horses, young fella—this isn’t a Ferrari, ya know,” the old man scolded.

When he reached the counter, he set the walker aside. Michael began explaining the situation only to be stopped by the old man’s upturned finger as he completed the task of setting the walker aside. Michael sighed heavily again, reading the man’s nametag—Fred Stonewall.

When Fred turned back to the counter, he tapped a little bell. “Next!”

Michael understood why cartoon characters often slapped themselves in the face, trying to rub away their exasperation. “Look, Mr. Stonewall, my name is Detective Stamos. I need to get some—”

“Say you’re a police officer?” Fred asked.

Michael stopped, sighing again. “Yes sir, Detective Stamos and I—”

“My oldest son wanted to be a police officer, but I told him what a dang fool idea that was. Who wants to get shot at for minimum wage? Yes, sir, I says, a smart man would take over his daddy’s business and make good in life.”

Michael grabbed his police badge and shook it at the man. “It’s an emergency. I’m a police officer and I’m trained to use this stuff. If you could just—”

“I don’t care who you are, boy. I’ve been working with explosives for over fifty years and I can tell you—”

The door chimed, and another man in a hard hat opened the door. “It’s all right, Pop! I’ll take care of this guy!”

The man jerked his thumb at Michael. He looked at the old man. Fred seemed pleased that his son was throwing him out. Michael complied, following the man out into the yard.

Before Michael could explain, the man interrupted. “The kid told me what you need and why. My men are getting some stuff together now, Officer.” He laughed. “You don’t want to talk to Pop about anything. He’ll drive you nuts.”

Michael looked at Jay, still sitting in the car with a big grin on his face. “Yeah, I got that.”

•••

Jonathan examined the wake of destruction left by Nemesis through the streets of Imperial City. He’s not in so big a hurry that he can’t destroy everything in his path, Jonathan thought.

Early morning traffic had been in full swing when the monster came through. Now, cars lay on their sides, or smashed and beaten out of the way. People were yelling, while multiple alarms squealed in the early morning air. The beast had even kicked a few fire hydrants out of his way, just to keep things interesting. The geysers of water rained down steadily on the pedestrians and drivers.

The major, who was driving their jeep, rode up on the sidewalk. People he could move—wrecked cars he could not. “He’s certainly not trying to hide his tracks is he?” asked the soldier in the passenger seat.

“He’s creating chaos to slow us down,” Jonathan said. “He probably knows we’ll chase him all the way to Genetic Corp, but he needs to get there first.”

The jeep slowed, as a group of victims tried to complain to the soldiers about what had happened to them. The soldier in the passenger seat got on a bullhorn and announced their intentions to go through unhindered. When they didn’t disburse, he pulled his pistol and fired it into the air. The people moved.

The jeep surged through. Jonathan wondered about the mentality. Is it worth injuring or killing innocent people just to get this monster?

An object caught Jonathan’s attention. He looked and saw a car tumble through the air. It came down five hundred yards ahead of them. An explosion erupted near the impact sight.

Jonathan pointed out the area for the soldiers. “That must be him!”

The driver hit the gas, trusting the pedestrians would have the good common sense to move out of his way. They did—barely.

There was no easy way of getting through the mess that Nemesis had left behind. Commuters went this way and that, trying to get to their destinations with little concern for the danger facing the city, or the military trying to stop the cause of it. “We’re going to have to go around another way,” the driver shouted over the increasing noise.

“We don’t have time to go around,” Jonathan complained. “He’ll reach the Genetic Corp building, if we don’t get to him.”

The major looked at his fellow soldier and then at Jonathan. “Well, I’m open to suggestions!”

Jonathan surveyed the situation. Only one other possibility presented itself. He stood up in the back of the jeep. While the soldiers watched with puzzled expressions on their faces, Jonathan leaped away from the vehicle into the street, then up onto the top of a car.

“Where are you going?” the major shouted.

“Hopefully, to get the job done!” he called back.

Jonathan flipped off the roof to the pavement again, dodged several cars, including two that had been piled roof to roof on top of one another. He ran into a blocked intersection again and then took to the tops of the vehicles—leaping from rooftop to rooftop, up onto a bus, running down the length, and down to a Subaru. He kept a steady pace and his eye on the path of destruction, while making his way steadily toward Nemesis.

A new plume of smoke appeared at an intersection just ahead. Jonathan noticed the injured, and longed to help them, but knew if he stopped it would only make for more victims ahead.

Finally, Jonathan spotted him. Nemesis held a man in one hand above his mutated head and the man’s motorcycle in the other. He spun around, throwing the motorcycle through the sidewall of a school bus. Jonathan cried out, but was still too far away to stop him. The driver’s side of the yellow bus caved in as all of the windows shattered into thousands of pieces of glass.

Nemesis turned when he heard Jonathan’s voice, but it was too late for him to react. Jonathan ran, then launched his body through the air in a flying kick. The beast seemed, only at the last fraction of a second, to realize who his attacker actually was.

Jonathan smashed the creature in the face with his boot. Nemesis flew backwards into a stopped car, caving in the empty passenger side. The biker in his hand, launched skyward.

Jonathan leaped to the roof of another car, crossed three more, and caught the man as he came down again. The biker looked stunned, but glad to be alive. “Thanks,” was all he managed to say before Jonathan set him down on the street and surged after Nemesis again. The beast recovered very quickly.

“Jonathan!” he shouted angrily. “I had hoped, by now, you had learned not to interfere.”

Jonathan said nothing, but circled the beast Trenton had become. He left himself plenty of room to move around. Jonathan sized up his adversary, quickly. Clearly, he didn’t have a chance of going toe to toe with Trenton now. The enhancement drug, Dr. Tanner had prepared, had transformed Trenton into something many times stronger than he’d been before.

Nemesis smiled. His skin was deep scarlet. He bore almost no resemblance to Trenton Hallowed, now. The whites of his eyes were almost purple from severe hemorrhaging. He appeared to Jonathan like pure evil incarnate—some demon unleashed upon Imperial City, and he was the only one who had even a glimmer of hope of stopping it.

“Come give your cousin a big hug, Johnny boy!” Nemesis laughed. He was barely covered by any of his clothing at all. His apparel had been shredded by the metamorphosis, and all of the violence since had stripped the majority away.

“I don’t think so, Trenton,” he said. Jonathan continued circling the beast, hoping to delay him by any means possible, so that Michael might rig the Genetic Corp building for self destruction.

“Trenton doesn’t live here anymore,” the beast said. “Nemesis rules now.”

“If you’re not Trenton, then I guess I shouldn’t worry about having to kill you.”

The creature laughed, baring his teeth. They had been pushed out by new bloodstained, white daggers—unlike a human being at all. “Pardon me, if I don’t run and hide. You’re nothing but a man,” Nemesis said.

“And what are you?”

Nemesis smiled again. “A god!” he bellowed. Then he lunged at Jonathan.

Jonathan only had time to evade the attack. He used his martial arts training and back flipped onto the roof of the car behind him. Nemesis charged through blindly, like an enraged elephant, plowing into the vehicle. Glass exploded in every direction.

Angry at missing his target, Nemesis pushed harder, overturning the car Jonathan stood upon. As the vehicle rolled back, Jonathan ran across it like a circus performer on a giant ball. He kicked the creature in the head again, then jumped away to land behind him.

Nemesis tore away a door from the car and hurled it at Jonathan. He deflected the twisted hunk of metal with his arm, but the weight of it knocked him off balance. Jonathan tumbled sideways, expecting the beast to follow through with another attack. Nemesis kicked at his head, but missed as Jonathan rolled back to his feet.

Jonathan’s arm had been sliced open by some of the metal on the car door. But the bleeding stopped almost as soon as it started, and was beginning to heal already. Jonathan had no weapons to fight the beast with—hand to hand all the way.

Nemesis threw a meaty arm at him, but Jonathan dodged it and tried to sweep the creature’s knee. Nemesis buckled at the joint, as Jonathan moved in with rapid punches to his head. He gave it every ounce of strength he could, but it was still a mistake.

Nemesis grabbed hold of him around the waist and began to squeeze. Jonathan pounded into the creature’s bloated face like a jackhammer. Blood covered his fists and arms, but Nemesis still did not let go. He squeezed harder and harder, until Jonathan felt like he might pass out from lack of oxygen. His spine popped, but he did not lose mobility.

Desperately, Jonathan gouged at Nemesis’ eyes. That did it. The monster let go of him. He fell to the ground. Nemesis clutched his face. Jonathan rolled away and stood again. The creature lowered his hands, revealing bloody eyes—even worse for all the subconjuctival hemorrhaging. Nemesis howled, then picked up a car. He pushed it up over his head, as overblown muscles bulged all over his body.

Jonathan took advantage of the opening and lunged at him with a swift kick. He slammed a boot into the creature’s breastbone, knocking the wind out of him. Nemesis staggered backward, dropping the car on top of Jonathan.

Nemesis jumped back to the car, when he realized his good fortune. He looked down through the driver’s side window, hoping to see his crushed opponent. Jonathan burst through the window from inside the vehicle, catching him on the chin. Nemesis flew back into more stopped cars, crushing them.

Down the road, Jonathan noticed the National Guardsmen coming. They had more trucks, carrying soldiers and even an armored carrier with a large machine gun turret. They began clearing out the remaining civilians who, up to this time, had been watching the fight of the century.

Nemesis noticed them, too, peeling himself out of an SUV. He growled at them, then at Jonathan. “You think you’re clever, but I realize what you’re trying to do, Jonathan.”

He watched the beast, but said nothing. The cut on his arm had almost completely healed. The damage to Nemesis had healed even faster. Whatever the enhancement drug consisted of, it certainly made him a tougher opponent.

Nemesis smiled with eerie confidence. “We’ll play soon enough.” Then he leaped back over the smashed cars, caving in the roofs of several more and hit the sidewalk on the other side. He ran into an apartment complex, high-rise—smashing right through the front doors in the process.

Jonathan ran after him. He hated to think about how many potential victims were living in this place. At this time of the morning, most of the children would already be at school. He jumped smashed cars like hurdles, then followed Nemesis into the building.

Immediately, Jonathan heard screaming from above. He hit the stairwell running. Jonathan heard a woman’s drawn out scream and looked up the stairwell just in time to see a body falling toward him. Jonathan snatched her by the arm. She screamed louder, as her right shoulder dislocated. Jonathan pulled the woman onto the stair landing and set her on the floor. “You’ll be all right now.”

The woman moaned in pain, holding her shoulder. She was too distressed to speak, but acknowledged with a nod. Jonathan ran up the stairs again. More screams descended to him. Knowing what Nemesis might be doing to these people spurred on his pursuit. He ran up the stairs. The lights flickered in the building, then went out completely.

Light filtered into the dark corridors from small windows at the end of each landing, but no more than that. Jonathan heard different voices—men, women, and children. He heard something else…Nemesis lunged from the shadows, smashing Jonathan in the chest.

His breath surged out of his lungs, as he flew backward through the air. Jonathan smashed through a wall. It slowed him. Jonathan tumbled over furniture, then crash landed among broken wood, water, and clothing. He realized he had gone through someone’s apartment, but they did not appear to be home. Lucky them.

Nemesis followed through with the attack. He ran at Jonathan, through the holes in several walls, wailing like a rabid animal. Jonathan tried to untangle himself. He was in a closet, having apparently busted a water line at some point coming through.

Jonathan grabbed the metal bar that had been used as a clothes rod in the closet, then rolled out of the mess of wet clothes. He stood just as Nemesis reached him. The beast lunged after him, but Jonathan went into his training. He dodged, then struck with the pole. A solid hit to the back of the head.

Nemesis tumbled off balance. Jonathan spun the bar like a Bo staff, hitting him again. Nemesis faltered, smashed through the kitchen, then came back with a block of knives in one hand. He laughed maniacally, then began throwing them from the block.

Jonathan blocked most of them, but one got through, and embedded in his leg. He pulled it out quickly, but the distraction was enough. Nemesis grabbed a chair, entangled the metal rod in the legs, then tore the makeshift weapon out of Jonathan’s hands.

They exchanged hand to hand blows, but Nemesis was simply too strong. He pummeled Jonathan across the torso with a doubled fist. Jonathan flew back into the entertainment center. The live television tube exploded under him, sending a shower of sparks into the dimly lit room.

Nemesis picked him up before he recovered. The creature ran to the window and hurled Jonathan through it. He had been about ten stories up, inside the apartment building. Jonathan landed two stories down on an adjacent roof and skidded to a halt in the gravel.

29 SHOWDOWN

“Look officer, I can’t just let a trunk load of explosives go out of here without someone qualified,” Robert said. “This is my Pop’s business—we’ll get fined like crazy for this.”

Michael knew he was running out of time to get to Genetic Corp before the creature did. “I already told you I’m a demolition’s specialist from my army days. I’m a police officer. I’ll take care of any red tape.”

Robert stood there, next to the open trunk, with his meaty arms crossed defiantly. His crew had gathered around him by now. “What if you make a mistake with my stuff and blow yourself up? Then the cops come after me over it.”

Michael stammered. He didn’t have time for this.

Robert gave him a self-assured grin. “That’s what I thought.” He turned to his work crew. “Saddle up boys we’ve got a job to do downtown.”

His men dispersed to their company trucks.

Michael tried to protest. “What are you doing? You’re hampering a police investigation!”

Robert stood his ground. “No, I’m doing a demolition job and protecting the public from some half-cocked cop who should know better. Now, would you like to do this thing, or should we all go downtown and discuss it with your boss?”

Michael knew when he was licked. “Meet you at the Genetic Corp building.”

•••

Nemesis watched the body of Jonathan on the neighboring roof—he wasn’t moving. “Poor cousin, Johnny,” he whispered with satisfaction. “You never could cut it.” He waited a moment longer—considering whether he should bother to cross over to the other building and make sure he was actually dead. But his time was limited. According to Tanner, he had to get back to Genetic Corp and retrieve his mutagen. Only when he had dosed himself again would the enhancement’s transformation be complete.

Nemesis turned, catching sight of himself in a cracked, full length mirror in the ruined apartment. His body had changed so dramatically. The dark wavy locks of Trenton Hallowed clung to his head and neck, matted with sweat and blood. His brow looked like an armored plate beneath his skin, causing his eyes to be recessed in his skull. His jaw had squared, and his mouth drooled blood from new predatory teeth pushing out all of his old ones.

He flexed his hulking muscles, which ripped away more of the tattered clothing still hanging from his bulky form. His bright red skin seemed ready to burst open under the strain of ever increasing muscle mass. He looked like something from a comic book, not a man. For a moment, the thoughts of Trenton Hallowed interrupted his euphoria. What have I done? I’m a monster—a freak—what have I done?

Nemesis quickly resumed control. “NO! I am a god!”

Jonathan flew through the smashed window and hit Nemesis with incredible force. They both sailed through the small room and through another wall. The floor above gave way to the lack of support, bringing the upper apartment down on top of them.

Water sprayed everywhere from burst copper pipes. Jonathan pulled himself from the mound of wreckage first. He heard the sizzle of electricity and spotted a sparking cable snaking across the debris.

Nemesis heaved a pile of plaster and wood off his body, rising enraged. Water sprayed the beastly man-thing from a pipe above. Jonathan grabbed the severed power line and whipped it at Nemesis. “Catch!”

He dove out across the room, landing on a dilapidated sofa as the electricity surged through the water-drenched creature. Nemesis screamed furiously, as sparks of fire and tendrils of smoke rose from his body. Jonathan waited for the beast to fall.

Instead, it leaped from the wreckage pile and blasted through the wrecked apartment like a juggernaut. Nemesis screamed liked no other being Jonathan had ever heard—otherworldly—unnatural.

•••

Jonathan picked himself up from the busted sofa and stood in the middle of the destruction. Nemesis had fled, leaving a path of debris as it went. Jonathan ran to catch up. He had to detain the beast long enough for Michael to get the charges set at Genetic Corp.

Jonathan reached a dead-end of wreckage. The sun beamed through dust suspended in the corridor. Where had he gone? Jonathan walked cautiously down the hall toward a partially open apartment door. He noticed wet footprints leading toward the place. The floor creaked a little beneath his feet.

The closed door beside him exploded. Nemesis plowed through, spraying wood fragments everywhere. He hit Jonathan like a runaway freight train and kept going. The impact nearly knocked Jonathan unconscious, as the creature pushed him through a wall and then through a window. Jonathan, couldn’t stop him.

Both of them fell out of control toward the pavement below. Jonathan saw the beast separate from him, as they cleared the window. Fragments of glass, wood, and brick followed them down. Jonathan tried to rotate his body to see where he would land, but he was still dazed from the tackle.

•••

A Branton Transit bus rolled at a good clip down Twelfth Street. The driver had managed to bypass some heavy traffic on the main road where National Guardsmen were conducting an emergency of some sort. He would be able to make up the time he had lost, if he drove it a little above the legal limit.

Jonathan smashed through the steel roof of the bus, just behind the driver. The driver screamed—partly for the explosion behind him and partly for the massive creature that had landed directly in front of him. There was no time to hit the brakes, though he tried.

The bus slammed into Nemesis as soon as he touched down on the pavement. He had seen the bus as he fell, had even landed on his feet, but it didn’t matter. The front of the bus exploded upon impact with the creature. Glass flew everywhere. Metal framing twisted into vile shapes and jagged edges.

Nemesis held onto the bus, holding him. He was embedded in the huge grill of the machine. “Stop the bus!” he bellowed to the driver.

The driver looked like he might have a heart attack at any moment. He had already tried to hit the brakes, but instead had slipped to the gas pedal when he hit Nemesis.

“Keep going!” Jonathan roared from behind. He tried to get up. The driver watched the battered, bloody young man grab the steering wheel and jam his foot onto the gas pedal. Nemesis watched him, too.

The bus sped up, the motor howling its indignation through the vibrating sub-frame. Nemesis tried fitfully to extricate himself from the ruined front of the bus. He drew back a thick right arm and plunged it through the metal into the cabin. Thick, bloody fingers burst through, grabbed the steering wheel, then wrenched it from Jonathan’s hands before he could counter.

The bus careened into several parked cars and lurched to a stop. Inertia carried Jonathan’s unbelted body through the fractured windshield. He landed among the twisted wreckage of parked cars, unconscious.

30 PREPARATION

Nemesis pushed with all his might against the twisted wall of metal. Slowly, but surely, the bus rolled backward until he had enough room to remove himself. The impact with the cars had freed him from the bus. Jonathan was nowhere in sight. The dazed bus driver moaned, raising his head from the steering wheel.

Nemesis gave a final push and stood on his feet. Sirens wailed in the distance. “I don’t have time for all of this—not now.” He had to retrieve his mutagen from the vault at Genetic Corp, and dose up. Only then would the Enhancement Serum take a permanent hold.

Nemesis pushed past the wrecked bus and walked into the street. Traffic remained non-existent here, because of the road blocks already in place further back. He breathed deeply, then took off running down the road toward the Genetic Corp building.

•••

Jonathan blinked until the world came into focus again. He felt pain—searing pain coursing white hot through his lower extremities. Oil dripped on his face from a fractured oil pan, belonging to the mangled car sitting on top of him. He smelled gas and realized the danger he was truly in.

The motor of the vehicle hung mere inches from his face. He barely had room to maneuver his arms, but with effort he managed. Jonathan pushed hard, but in his dazed condition he could not budge the vehicle covering him.

He stopped, trying to get air, the weight of the car restricting his breathing. Every exhale allowed the vehicle to settle further down on him, like a python strangulating its next meal. Panic issued at the corners of his consciousness, but he fought it back and prayed.

“Father, I need your help. I can’t do this on my own.” He labored to breathe. “I don’t understand why all of this has happened, but I know you’re in control. Please help me to stop Trenton!” He breathed again, finishing his prayer in the name of Jesus.

Jonathan tried to push the car again. The gassy smell grew stronger. How long would it be before it reached something able ignite it? His arms shook violently. He felt muscle fibers tearing away inside his arms. He tried to keep from screaming.

The mass of twisted metal sitting on top of him moved.

Emboldened, Jonathan thrust up with his pelvis to aid his beleaguered arms. He groaned, pushing with all the strength he had left. The car overturned, rolling onto its side away from him.

Jonathan stood on his feet. He became dizzy, almost falling. He felt so exhausted. How long had it been since he’d eaten something? The mutagen had him burning calories on overdrive. He rested his hands on his thighs and panted, trying to catch his breath, hoping to clear his head.

“Hey, are you all right?” a voice called out from the street.

Jonathan looked over on the other side of the crashed bus to find a truck had stopped. The driver stood next to the dazed bus driver, looking at Jonathan. His gaze fell on the truck itself—a donut delivery truck!

Jonathan pulled out a wad of cash from his pants. He fumbled with the bills—twenties mostly, then dropped the entire bundle into the man’s hand.

The man stood there dumbfounded. Jonathan—bloody and battered—made his way to the back of the donut truck and raised the sliding door.

A wall of gooey sweetness lay before Jonathan. He smiled, almost laughing. “Thank you, Lord Jesus!” He snatched an armful of boxes, tore one open, and devoured one after another. He raised one in a toast to the stunned delivery truck driver, then ran down the street toward the Genetic Corp building, mere blocks away.

•••

Only a few officers remained on duty at the Genetic Corp building when Michael arrived. “Remember, Jay, you stay with the car. This should be out of the way enough. You won’t be in Trenton’s path, but don’t get out,” Michael said.

Jay looked at it. “Just in case of what—wanting to make him really mad?”

Michael laid the weapon on the front seat. “Okay, but it will make me feel better about you being left here alone.”

He opened the car door and got out. Robert and his men had already begun unloading explosives from their truck, along with the necessary rigging devices, and equipment. Michael examined the building, trying to gauge the work that lay ahead for them.

Robert walked up beside him. “It’s pretty big, but not too big for what I’ve brought.”

“I’ve already radioed ahead to the officers on duty. They’ll remain until Nemesis enters the building. After that, they know to clear out.”

Robert scratched his five o’ clock shadow and smiled. “Then let’s get started.”

•••

Nemesis approached the Genetic Corp building cautiously. He might have greater strength and power right now, but he wasn’t going to face off against the police, unprepared for a trap. Fewer policemen stood guard at the building now. Undoubtedly, they had been spread thin by all of his recent activity.

He knew he could do this one of two ways—direct assault or try to sneak in. He realized the authorities had most likely radioed ahead. He wouldn’t be surprising anybody. His encounter with Jonathan had weakened his reserves again, even with the enhancement onboard. He needed food and rest, but not until he got the mutagen again.

Whatever he was becoming, he didn’t have any intention of stopping the process. He had become far more powerful than before. Even if he looked like a monster, Trenton wanted the transformation to reach his full potential. Being a mere man held no luster for him now. He would become the pinnacle—a god in flesh.

Nemesis strode through the parking lot littered with police vehicles. He walked right up to the barricades in place before the main entrance to the building. The police officers on duty shuddered at the sight of him. Obviously, they had been expecting the man Trenton Hallowed used to be.

The policemen aimed their weapons at him. One of the men spoke to him through a megaphone. “Trenton Hallowed, you are ordered to surrender immediately, or we’ll open fire.”

Nemesis laughed. “Take a good look at who you’re threatening, Officer. I’ve been shot dozens of times, tasered, hit by a bus, crashed through buildings, and busted out of a reinforced titanium vault. I’ve faced down an entire SWAT team and destroyed an entire police precinct full of men like yourself.” He laughed again. “I think you should surrender. Lay down your guns, and I’ll let you walk away. You can go home to your families tonight, instead of the morgue.”

The police officers looked confused. Some of them were really considering it. The captain had more resolve. He forced his men into action before they could lose their courage. “Fire!”

Twenty officers opened up on Nemesis with nothing more than machine guns. Some of the men screamed furiously, remembering their fellow officers who had died recently at the hands of this monster. They wanted vengeance. A few others among them had tears rolling down their cheeks. They realized they would not return to their wives and children, today.

The flesh burst open all over Nemesis’s body as bullets tore into him—mosquitoes. He picked up two of the steel barricades setting before him and whipped them in a circle around his body—releasing them toward the officers. The two barricades smashed through the officers, and then through the glass, and steel façade making up the main entrance. Policemen fell like shattered bowling pins. The fight ended that quickly. “I tried to tell you,” Nemesis said. He walked toward the destroyed entrance. Bodies, blood, and glass lay everywhere peppered with the spent shell casings from their machine guns. He shook his head at the captain’s body, with his broken megaphone. “You killed them by not listening.” Nemesis walked past the carnage into the Genetic Corp building.

•••

Michael placed a bundle of explosives against one of the structural supports for the building. He had been working in the basement with Bob, one of Robert’s crew, for the past twenty minutes. Robert had unpacked a stash of C4 that he had gotten his hands on. He had been very hush-hush about where it came from. “Let’s just say, I know people, Officer.”

Considering the situation, Michael had been more than willing to let it slide. His only concern, at this point, was getting this building to come down on top of Trenton Hallowed. With any luck, Jonathan had been successful in delaying Trenton.

Gunshots popped far away, reverberating through the building to the basement level. Bob looked at Michael. “He’s here,” Michael said. “We’ve got to finish the job, fast!” He heard a crash from outside.

“What was that?” Bob asked.

“I don’t know.” Michael listened. The machine gun fire had ceased abruptly. “I have a feeling our first line of defense just went down.”

Bob stammered. “There were twenty cops out there with M-16s!”

“I know,” Michael said. “Keep working.”

31 DEMOLITION

Nemesis passed through the lobby where a gala banquet had taken place several nights ago. This was also where he had strung up an entire SWAT unit like macabre marionettes. All had been cleared by now.

He needed to get to the fourth floor to complete the mutation process. The Generation X Mutagen resided safely in his vault. Nemesis only needed to reach it in order to remain a god, permanently. He started for the stairs, noticing that only partial power had been restored to the building. He laughed to himself. They certainly had not sent very many officers to guard the building.

Nemesis stopped on the stairs. They had only left twenty men to face down all that he had now become. Something was wrong. He smelled a trap.

Nemesis ran up the stairs. He stopped at the second floor, turning down the dim corridor. He needed to be sure of something before he finished the last part of his research.

•••

Richard and his men had divided up appropriately in order to plant the explosives in the shortest amount of time possible. He had sent them in two man groups throughout the building. The light was sparse inside Genetic Corp, but they each wore headlamps with elastic bands on them.

Richard worked on the second floor with a slim man known to their crew by the name Trigger. He had received the name due to his penchant for always being on the switch when it came time to blow the charges. “It’s awful hot in here,” Trigger complained. He wiped the sweat from his high forehead, then replaced his ball cap.

Richard finished another charge. “Looks like they’re only running on emergency power here. Air conditioning units must be shut down. The air is stale.”

They heard creaking above them. “We’d better hurry and finish this. We need to get to the others and find out what that noise was.”

Richard finished a charge on another support column. The C4 would allow them to bypass some of the setup work normally done on a job like this. “You know what that noise was. It was that thing coming through the police. Mike said it would go to the fourth floor, looking for some kind of chemical. While it’s busy with that, we blow this place sky high and be done with it.”

Trigger looked around them in the dark. “Can’t be too soon for me.” He planted another charge and moved to another support.

“Don’t worry, Trigger, it doesn’t even know we’re here.”

•••

Nemesis watched the color monitor. His enhanced bulk took up most of the available space in the security control room. On nearly ten monitors, he watched pairs of men he had never seen before. The men appeared to be placing some sort of explosive charges on the building’s supports.

He laughed to himself, spotting Detective Stamos among them. The detective had apparently finished with his work in the basement. He and another man walked toward the basement level stairwell, opened the door, and disappeared from the monitor. The pair appeared on another monitor ascending the stairs toward the main level landing.

Nemesis thought about the situation. The men were working feverishly to plant their charges, evidently hoping to blow him up. He had the opportunity to take the fight to them, but if they blew the charges now, the mutagen would be destroyed.

He turned, pushing through the door, out into the main corridor. He walked toward his private elevator. The keypad held a faint glow. Nemesis knew it to be the only elevator in the whole building that was wired to the emergency generator. He tried to tap the code sequence into the pad, but his bloated fingers couldn’t manage it.

Instead, he placed his palms on the elevator doors, pushed, then pulled them apart. The doors groaned, but complied with his great strength. The elevator car lit up beyond. Nemesis ducked his head and pushed his way inside. The maneuver to press the fourth floor button was nearly as difficult as the keypad outside, but he finally got it. The doors closed eagerly, and the elevator began its ascent toward the fourth floor and his mutagen.

The number four appeared on the level indicator, and the elevator doors opened. He pushed his great body out into the hallway, walking toward the lab. He took notice of the damage inflicted through his fight with the police. The laboratory door had still not been replaced. He walked inside.

Nemesis spotted the vault in the half light. He smiled at the open vault door. “That little punk actually got it open.” He almost laughed when he thought of breaking the boy’s ankle in order to get him to open the vault.

Nemesis strode to the vault and peered inside. His mutagen canisters remained safe in the rack where he had left them a week ago. No time for formalities, he thought. Nemesis opened the valves wide open on the two canisters. The green fog of Generation X Mutagen filled the confines of the security vault. Nemesis washed in the vapors, breathing deeply.

The chemical mist penetrated his lungs. Gas exchange took place, allowing the mutagen into his bloodstream and the waiting molecules of Tanner’s Enhancement Serum. The two molecules bonded instantly in Trenton’s blood. The new molecule now began its move, not only through his bloodstream, but into the tissues throughout his body.

Nemesis slumped to the floor. His body began to convulse again, but this time, he rode the painful waves, a kind of new ecstasy. “No pain, no gain,” he muttered through tight lips. His muscles tensed and released. Bulging arms and legs jerked in every direction. He tried not to fight, but Nemesis did notice that something unexpected was taking place.

He had expected the chemicals to bond in his blood, making his earlier transformation a permanent one, but this was different. His body began to mutate again. The organs felt as though they were bursting within him. The pain became excruciating.

Nemesis felt overwhelmed by what was happening. He wondered if somehow this new event might very well kill him. Unconsciousness swept over him—his last thought, a firm hope that he would wake again.

•••

Nemesis awoke. The pain had turned to something…else. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. He felt strangely numb, but rather than dulled senses, Nemesis suspected that his very nerves had become something new.

He shut his eyes, but oddly enough he could still see. Nemesis saw the vault door in front of him, the walls behind, and beside him, the ceiling above, and the floor beneath. His eyes remained closed, and yet he saw everything with perfect clarity.

He raised his hand in front of him. Through the appendage, he saw things as well. It was as though his entire body had become an eye. Every cell in his body had become like an individual organism—each able to feel and perceive the world around him. Yet his body was whole.

For the first time since waking, Nemesis realized his body had changed in appearance, as well. He saw, in the reflective surface of the stainless steel walls around him, the form of Trenton Hallowed. His previously bloated, hulking body had returned to the handsome man he once was.

Nemesis reached toward the reflection and noticed his fingers stretching toward the wall, even though his hand remained stationary. Now he began to understand. His body had metamorphosed into something beyond simple muscle, sinew, organ, and bone. He felt as strong as he ever had. His power had not diminished, but grown, despite his appearance. Now he knew. His molecules had been transformed, somehow, into complete organisms, yet mind, body, and purpose remained connected in one.

He looked at the clock on the computer display in the vault. He’d been down for nearly a half hour. The men and their explosive charges. He had to do something before they completed their business.

Nemesis stood. He went out into the laboratory and removed the shredded clothing he’d been wearing. He changed his entire form. The body became dark in pigment, black as pitch. The face changed to a featureless form, as did the rest of his body. He would become a shadow. And now was the time to strike.

•••

Michael peered cautiously around the corner. The security office stood just down the hall with the door open. He needed to get inside to the intercom system. The door had been left ajar. Trenton had been here. He knew because he had closed the door himself after making sure he could use the intercom to give the team an order to evacuate.

Michael grabbed his submachine gun and checked the ammo reader. He inched along the wall with Bob trailing nervously behind him. The man started to ask him a question, but Michael raised a hand to silence him.

He reached the corner, peered down the hall in both directions, spotting nothing unusual in the dim light. Michael felt more at ease. Trenton couldn’t hide so easily in his present condition. A hulking monster just didn’t squeeze into corners or behind doors in shadows.

Michael leaned back and whispered instructions to Bob. “Stay here for a few minutes while I give the signal to evacuate.” Bob nodded eagerly, pressing himself against the wall. Michael turned back, checked the hall again, then bolted to the opposite side and into the security control room.

When he got inside, Michael took stock of the monitors, searching for his team members. He saw Richard and the man called Trigger working inside an elevator shaft. They stood at opposite sides, quickly wiring charges. Richard had managed to hotwire the elevator controls to a universal remote he often used for just this sort of situation, giving him the ability to place charges along key structural supports while standing on top of the elevator.

Michael checked the monitor and found the vault door ajar. He noticed that it stood in a more open position than it had before. No one was inside. He searched over the screens and noticed some of Richard’s demolition guys lying on the floor where they had been working. He zoomed in on one man, lying partially obscured by shadow. A pool of dark liquid surrounded his body on the video monitor.

Motion on another monitor caught Michael’s attention. He saw one of the men fighting with something that was almost invisible. The man was seized by what appeared to be a living shadow. Whatever it was, it didn’t look a thing like the Nemesis monster.

Michael reached for the microphone button and noticed the panel had been torn completely away from the control board. He couldn’t call for his team to evacuate. He looked at the monitor again. The shadow had disappeared, leaving two men dead like those on the other monitors. Richard and Trigger still lived on their screen.

Michael turned and left the control room, hoping to get to Richard and Trigger in time. He paused to get Bob from his hiding place in the shadows. He was gone. Michael knelt on the carpet and found a blood stain—the only evidence Bob had ever been there. Michael raised his weapon, searching every direction. He paid special attention to the shadows. Nothing moved. He briefly thought of blowing the building now, but he couldn’t sacrifice the remaining men, and he didn’t know if Nemesis was even still in the building. He didn’t have time to wait. Michael turned and ran for the elevator shaft where Richard had been working. He hoped he would be in time.

32 EXPLOSIVE RESULTS

Richard heard gurgling behind him. Three elevator cars operated within this single, wide shaft. Supports ran the entire height of the building on either side. Richard turned to ask Trigger what he was doing, only to find the man hoisted off the ground by his throat.

Richard gasped as he saw something black as night, clinging to the wall six feet above them. It looked back at Richard with eyes that seemed to glow with pure evil. The creature held Trigger up as he clutched its black arm in hopes of freeing his neck from its grasp. The creature bashed him against the wall several times, leaving larger and larger blood stains upon the cement block lining the elevator shaft.

Trigger ceased struggling, became limp as a rag doll in the creature’s hand, and was dropped to the elevator car below. “What are you?” Richard asked, stuttering.

The creature stretched out its arm unnaturally far and took hold of the cables holding the middle elevator car. It swung down to the roof of the car almost noiselessly. It smiled viciously at Richard. “Don’t you recognize a god when you see one?”

A black arm reached out for Richard as he stood dazed staring at it. Machine gun shots burst into the shaft. Richard saw Michael firing from the open elevator roof hatch, next to Trigger’s lifeless body.

The black creature retreated away from Richard as the shells pounded its leathery flesh. He noticed no blood spilt from the beast. Instead, holes opened, then closed in rapid succession as the creature fought to hold its form under fire.

It turned, beholding its attacker. “Detective Stamos, will you never learn your lesson?”

“Trenton?” Michael asked, ceasing his assault. Richard snapped out of his daze and dropped through the open hatch on the roof of his elevator car. He jumped up, grabbing the lid as he landed, slamming it shut. Richard heard the muffled machine gun staccato begin again above him.

Richard pushed the open door button as the lights flickered in his elevator car. “Come on, come on! Open!” He swore at the machine and slapped every button on the panel, as the creature howled in anger at Detective Stamos above.

The hatch on his elevator roof tore away with a screech of twisted metal. The alarm chimed and the double doors crawled open before him. Richard looked behind him as thick, black fluid, like tar, poured into the elevator car through the hole. The puddle oozed upward, the creature taking the form of a man again. The eyes opened and blinked. Nemesis reached for him.

The elevator doors finally opened enough, and Richard spilled out into the corridor. He rolled away from the creature, clawing at the bare ceramic tiles, trying to get back to his feet. Nemesis walked out behind Richard, then flailed away as Michael appeared, opening up on him with his machine gun again. Richard got to his feet and surged down the hallway with his shoulder pack of C4 explosive flapping at his right hip.

Michael kept up the onslaught until the firing pin clicked. He had run out of ammunition. He called out behind Richard. “Blow the charges, Richard!”

Nemesis recovered, knocked Michael out of the way with a shiny, black tentacle, just as he placed a fresh ammunition clip, then ran down the corridor after Richard, and the detonator.

“Why did I insist on coming to do this job?” Richard cursed himself. He looked over his shoulder and found Nemesis gaining on him, fast. He fumbled inside the flapping bag for the detonator, but took hold of a ball of putty instead. He tore it from the bag, grabbed a digital delay blast cap, inserted it into the C4, and triple clicked it for a three second delay. Richard turned as he ran, armed the cap then threw it back toward Nemesis.

Richard turned back, still running clumsily, and surged forward, counting down the seconds. The putty ball hit a column support at the side of the hall. Two seconds ticked off in flight. The third had finished by the time the ball rolled onto the floor, ten steps ahead of the living shadow.

•••

Jonathan paused briefly to examine the bodies of the police officers outside of the Genetic Corp building. None of them had survived. He heard machine gun fire from somewhere inside and took off toward the front door.

Just as he made it inside the main lobby, an explosion rocked the building. The shockwave shattered windows all over the upper landing. The second floor landing appeared to be clear, meaning the explosion had come from either level three or four.

Jonathan rushed toward an emergency exit door. He pushed his way through, running up the fire escape steps. He heard shouts up above. It sounded like Michael Stamos, but he couldn’t be sure.

•••

Michael picked himself up from the floor where the explosion had thrown him. He watched the fluid predator extricate itself from a wall, then charge forward in pursuit of the main detonator. Richard had disappeared down the corridor just before the blast and remained lost in the confusion. He still had the main detonator in his bag.

Michael fired on Nemesis as he dodged past a corner. Several shots hit the creature. The rest scattered fragments of drywall across the hall. He tried to keep up, but Nemesis was too fast.

Michael’s body ached. He might have torn cartilage in his shoulder and knees by now, but he didn’t think anything was broken. He rounded the corner after Nemesis and found Richard.

Nemesis stood thirty yards down the corridor looking like a man made of shiny black tar. He lifted Richard off the floor by his throat. Nemesis forced a black hand into the bag, rummaging for the detonator. Richard spluttered in his grasp. The creature became angry. “Where is it?” He shook Richard like a doll, then tossed him into the opposite wall.

Michael raised his machine gun and aimed, hoping to drive the beast away without hitting Richard. Nemesis stepped toward Richard as he pulled something from his pocket. “Do you mean this?” Richard wheezed, showing the device in his hand. Nemesis lunged for the detonator, but wasn’t quick enough.

Richard pressed the ignition switch. The entire building shuddered. Michael’s hearing failed with the first blast. His ears rang as the floor shook under his feet. He reeled sideways off balance. Though he couldn’t hear them, Michael felt the successive explosions pounding through his body in waves.

His last glimpse of Nemesis and Richard saw them falling as the floor collapsed. Michael was caught up in the storm of debris that followed—a leaf adrift inside a tornado.

Something grabbed him. Michael felt human hands, though he couldn’t tell if it was Nemesis or not. The beast would not survive this chaos. Surely justice demanded his complete annihilation for all the death and destruction he had been responsible for over the past few days.

Michael closed his eyes as the world came to an end around him. He had rarely considered his own mortality, despite his line of work. His partner’s death had been sobering. Cops just weren’t invincible. Michael wondered who had hold of him—an angel delivering him to whatever heaven was, or the devil himself coming to collect a debt long overdue. He didn’t have time to ponder the possibilities.

He and the person pulling him by his clothing fell a great distance, landing on a surface that gave way with the force. Michael felt the cracking of wood and wondered if his bones had shattered also. They slammed into something firm and stopped.

For a long time, nothing else happened. Michael lay there with his eyes tightly shut, hoping he still lived. The ringing in his ears remained constant. His skin felt numb. His fingers ached, and he did not know if he still held his machine gun.

Something shook him. Michael wondered if the explosions would ever end. He dared to open his eyes, finding Jonathan Hallowed covered in dirt, dust and streaks of blood. The younger man smiled at him and spoke, but Michael could not hear anything except the incessant ringing. Still, he was pleased to see Jonathan and to be alive to appreciate it.

33 UNEXPECTED AFTERMATH

Jonathan pulled Michael to his feet. His hand still clutched his machine gun. Michael looked down at it. “I think my hand is cramped up.” He pried the fingers free of the trigger guard and grip, grimacing. Then he flexed the pale digits. “That feels better.”

The two of them surveyed the scene around them. At least half to three quarters of the Genetic Corp building lay around them in smoldering heaps of rubble. Twisted steel girders rose out of the piles like claws. In several places, small geysers erupted from broken water pipes.

A large portion of the building stood ominously behind them. This part had somehow managed to survive the demolition, though it remained only a torn husk. “Did we kill him?” Michael asked.

Jonathan continued to scan the wreckage. “Hard to tell in this mess. He might be buried under tons of rubble.”

Michael scratched the back of his head and turned his neck until it popped. “I remember seeing him standing over Richard when the charges went off.”

“Who?”

“Richard. He provided the explosives and a team of men to help me set them in the building,” Michael said. “I don’t think any of them survived.”

“I’m not sure how to describe it. He wasn’t at all like the big hulking brute he’d become before. It was like he turned into a man made of tar. When I shot at him, he didn’t bleed at all. The bullets tore at him, but then he reformed. He wasn’t human.”

Jonathan tried to absorb Michael’s information. Then a horrible uncertainty hit him. “If he’s become what you say, then a building landing on him probably wouldn’t be enough to kill him.”

Michael’s face registered the same dread. “We’ve got to make sure.” He started off toward the pulverized side of the building where smoke rose up in great plumes around them. Jonathan followed, searching the mounds of debris for any sign of the Nemesis creature.

In the distance, Jonathan heard sirens from emergency vehicles responding to the explosions and the collapse of Genetic Corp. After ten minutes of searching separately, Jonathan noticed Michael come to an abrupt halt a few yards away. “What is it? Did you find something?”

“I don’t know,” Jonathan said. For the first time since he had found Michael again, he remembered his ward. “Where did you leave Jay?”

•••

Jonathan and Michael ran through the debris field around the remaining superstructure, down the quarter mile of parking lot beyond in order to reach the car where Jay had been waiting. When Jonathan saw no one visible in the front seat, he ran harder.

He reached the car hoping to find Jay asleep across one of the seats, but Jonathan already knew no one, least of all a teenage boy, would be found sleeping with a newly demolished building right in front of him. His heart skipped a beat, then he saw his worst fear realized.

Michael arrived on his heels. “Is he here?” He saw the answer as the last word was spoken. There on the hood of the police car, writing had been scrawled in dirty red letters that any fool could tell was blood. They both stood reading the words. Hawthorne Storage Alone.

Michael looked at Jonathan. “I don’t understand. Where’s this Hawthorne place?”

“It’s an unregistered cryo storage facility owned by Halo Tech. Only a few privileged people, including myself, even know the location.”

“Why all the secrecy?” Michael asked.

“We have a lot of wealthy customers who want to be frozen until their diseases have cures, just hoping for a little immortality. The unregistered location just adds to the feeling of security they have when leaving their bodies to the mercy of others.”

“Well, where is it?”

Jonathan stood, looking at the writing on the hood—at the blood the letters had been inscribed with. Michael looked at him curiously. “Uhm, the location, Jonathan?” Michael asked again.

Jonathan turned away. “He said alone, Michael. He means it.”

“Now wait a minute. You can’t just take off on this by your—”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Jonathan insisted. He stepped toward the driver’s side of the car and opened the door. The keys were still in the ignition. Jonathan sat down and shut the door, then started the car. Michael just stood there watching with his gun dangling at his side. “Are you just going to leave me here holding a machine gun in the middle of this?” he said, gesturing to the destruction around them.

“I don’t have time to waste, Michael,” Jonathan said, shifting the car into gear.

Michael held up his hands. “Well, pop the trunk. At least let me put this in there,” he said, holding up the gun. “There’s ammunition in there, and at least if you don’t use it, I don’t have to lug it around out here.”

Fire department trucks began to arrive behind them. Jonathan reached down on the dash and popped the trunk. Michael rounded the car and set the gun inside. Before he closed the lid, he flipped a small plastic cover open on the trunk wall and pressed the red button located beneath it. Michael slammed the lid closed and stood away from the car. “For what it’s worth, I hope you get the kid back okay,” he said.

Jonathan nodded. “If the Lord is with me, then I can’t fail.” He tried to smile, but it wasn’t convincing. Jonathan pressed the gas pedal, leaving Michael behind in the dim light of approaching dusk.

34 FROZEN ASSETS

Night had arrived by the time Jonathan closed in on the Hawthorne Cryo storage Facility owned by his Halo Tech Company. Douglas Tanner had brought him down to view the complex two years ago. He parked the car in the parking lot of the plain warehouse building.

They had located the facility in an area of town with very little traffic to ensure secrecy. What better place for Trenton to choose in order to kill him now? Jonathan shut off the car, opened the door, and stepped out into the night air. The main entrance was well lit. Nemesis was here and Jay would be with him. Jonathan walked cautiously toward the main door. He looked around, half expecting Nemesis to leap from the darkness and drive him into the pavement.

When Jonathan reached the door, placing his hand on the handle, it buzzed from within. He had been expected. Jonathan opened the door, passed through the vestibule, and through another security door into the main building.

Darkness greeted him on the other side, except for a blue light high above to the right. Through the glass windows in the control booth, Jonathan saw Jay raise his bound hands, trying to get his attention. Rows of lights came on near Jonathan, continuing down the length of the building.

Rows of opaque cryo cylinders lit up all around him, seeming like the tombstones of a vast mechanical graveyard. “I knew you would come for the boy.” Trenton’s smooth baritone voice echoed around the cylinders. “You always were weak that way.”

Jonathan searched the darkness for Trenton, but the illuminated cylinders only hindered his eyes penetrating the veil. “What do you want, Trenton?”

“I told you before…there is only Nemesis now,” he said.

“Trenton, I just want to—”

The voice grew fierce. “There is only Nemesis now!” A living shadow lunged at Jonathan from the darkness. He reacted as he’d been taught to do for years. Nemesis struck at him, but Jonathan batted him away, diverting his efforts.

Jonathan protected himself by instinct, while his mind tried to comprehend what it was that he was fighting. He blocked the arms and hands, but the creature’s chest exploded toward him like another arm. The blow knocked Jonathan backward into one of the cryo cylinders. The heavy chamber overturned, but it was empty.

Nemesis laughed as his chest became normal again. “You’re not human at all, anymore, are you?” Jonathan asked.

“I told you already, Jonathan…I am a god!”

Jonathan stood up again. “You think becoming this thing has made you a god? You’ve lost yourself and turned into some kind of monster.”

Nemesis snarled at him. “Your opinions don’t matter and you would do better to keep them to yourself. Remember, I have the boy. He’s mine to kill, if I want to.”

Jonathan sneered at the pitch black thing before him. “Killing children? Is that something a god would do? Why don’t you just let the boy go? He’s done nothing in all of this.”

Nemesis made an attempt at smiling, but his mouth was devoid of teeth. “I’d be happy to let the boy go in exchange for yourself. I’m tired of you interrupting my work.”

“You mean killing people, don’t you?”

“My research must go on, for the good of mankind,” Nemesis said. “You are in the way, yet for some reason my old self lacks the desire to kill you outright.”

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” Nemesis said, tapping the keypad on the cryo cylinder next to him. The Plexiglass door unsealed with a muffled pop and slowly opened. “Since you possess some measure of the power I’ve come to have, you’ll only distract me from my work. I believe cryo containment will suit you nicely.”

Jonathan glared at the cylinder. “I don’t think so.”

“Then the boy dies,” Nemesis said. “Don’t think I’ve come unprepared to carry out that threat. “He lifted a remote of some kind and flicked a switch. The LED light changed from red to green instantly. “A little souvenir from your friends back at Genetic Corp.” He gestured back toward the control booth above, and Jay watching through the window. “I managed to save some of the explosives from your friends at Genetic Corp. There’s enough C4 in that control room to obliterate this entire building. Now get in. My patience is wearing thin.”

Jonathan’s shoulders slumped a bit as he conceded defeat. He inched his way toward the cryo cylinder. It would serve as his grave and tombstone. He stopped. “How do I know you’ll let Jay go? I want him released now.”

Nemesis’ smiled. “I’ve got no problem with that.” He pulled a walkie-talkie to his lips. “Jay, you can leave now.”

Jonathan was surprised when Jay shuffled to the rear door of the control booth, depressed the call button, and waited for the small elevator to ascend to him. “Just like that?” Jonathan asked.

“Why not?” Nemesis said. “The boy is of no use to me. You might think me a monster, Jonathan, but I’m simply a,” he paused, “a man driven by a passionate purpose. I want mankind to know the power and immortality I now have. I want to share my gift with humanity. The boy can’t do anything about that now.”

“What you call a gift, I call—”

Nemesis raised a hand. “Oh, spare me your righteous indignation, Jonathan. I’ve heard quite enough. Just keep your word and get into the cylinder.”

The lift brought Jay down from the control booth, depositing him on the main cryo stasis floor. He limped out of the elevator. “Jonathan, aren’t you coming with me?”

“He has a promise to keep, boy. Get out of here while I’m feeling generous,” Nemesis ordered.

Jonathan nodded to Jay. “Do as he says. I’ll be fine.” He tried to fake a smile for the boy, but it didn’t come off well. Nemesis had won.

Jay limped toward the door, looked back again, then passed through. “Now, I’ve kept my word,” Nemesis said. “The boy is safe. After all of your Jesus talk, I hope you’re not going to come out a liar.”

Jonathan’s face hardened. He opened the cryo cylinder door and stepped inside. Nemesis hurried to the control pad before the chamber and tapped the door control. It wheezed and shut upon Jonathan. Nemesis smiled, satisfied.

Jonathan watched him adjust the settings on the control pad, initiating the cryo containment process. He looked up to the ceiling, where several massive liquid Nitrogen tanks hung in series with other chemicals used in the procedure. “Don’t worry, Jonathan, you’re not going to die, just sleep for a long time. If you ever wake, the world will be a very different place.”

His words lacked any measure of comfort. Jonathan knew Nemesis was only taunting him. He didn’t care what Jonathan felt. It was even likely that Nemesis would kill him while he was incapacitated in the cryo unit.

Jonathan glanced from the tanks back to the control pad, and the gleeful way Nemesis set the parameters into place. He closed his eyes and prayed. Perhaps death would be better. After all, he had no desire to remain a frozen vegetable indefinitely. He’d just as soon go on to his Heavenly reward than this, but Jonathan wouldn’t break his word.

Nemesis looked up at the tanks suspended from the ceiling above him. “Don’t worry, Jonathan. It will freeze you very quickly. I’m sure it won’t hurt…much,” he said, smiling.

Nemesis finalized his settings, bypassed the normal safety blocks, then hit enter to initiate the freezing process. Jonathan felt a rush of air from the top of the chamber and heard the hum of machines in motion.

The door burst open at the back of the room. Michael rushed in with a high powered assault rifle, took aim at the cryo tanks and started firing as fast as he could.

Overhead, the pressurized liquid nitrogen tanks burst open as the large caliber shells slammed into them. Liquid nitrogen fell in gushing waves to the main floor, showering Nemesis in the deadly cold fluid. Michael rushed back through the door to avoid the sweeping torrent of fluid spreading across the floor.

The rush of air stopped inside Jonathan’s cryo cylinder. A warning chime sounded somewhere outside. It was soon drowned out by the rush of liquid spilling onto the main floor. Jonathan lost sight of Nemesis as the fluid rushed over him.

He felt the cold attempting to penetrate the cryo cylinder. The thick insulation normally helpful in containing the freezing cold, in this case, kept it at bay. Jonathan prayed even harder.

35 CHILLING RESULTS

Jonathan waited. Everything outside remained eerily quiet. He pushed upon the cylinder door, but it remained locked, encrusted with sheets of frozen nitrogen. He backed up against the wall of the chamber and gave a quick thrust at the door with his body. The door shattered into pieces and fell away. The room beyond had been covered by the flow. Overhead, the tanks of nitrogen looked like abandoned eggshells. The cryo cylinders stood like frozen obelisks in an arctic night. A thick fog hovered at waist level over the entire main floor.

Jonathan spotted the person he was searching for. Nemesis stood before him with his hands raised toward the sky—his obsidian form covered in chemical ice.

The door opened at the back of the chamber, and Michael peeked his head inside. “Jonathan? Are you all right?”

Jonathan smiled, never more glad to see the detective in his life. “I’m fine, thanks to you,” he said. “How in the world did you find me here?”

“Not long enough,” Jonathan said. “If he were still human, I’d say he was finished, but now I just don’t think we can take the risk. We’ll have to put him into one of the facility’s mobile cryo units until we can decide what to do with him.”

Jonathan looked at Trenton’s frozen form. “First thing to do is search in the office area and get the keys to one of the mobile units. Then we’ll bring it back here and load him up.”

Michael patted Jonathan on the shoulder. “After that, the donuts are on me.”

Jonathan smiled. “You know what, Detective? I’m gonna take you up on that offer.”

•••

Jonathan sat beside Joseph’s bed. Two weeks had seen his mentor doing very well. Jonathan had hired a private nurse and had a room set up for Joseph in his home, where he could recover in greater comfort. Joseph turned his head and opened his eyes. He blinked several times trying to focus and figure out where he was.

Joseph relaxed into his pillow. “I do appreciate you doing that, Jonathan.” Then he tensed again. “What about Trenton? What’s happened? Is the boy safe?”

Jonathan caught him by the shoulders. “Ease up, Joseph, everything is fine, now. Jay is in his room on his computer. The doctor said his ankle will be healed up in about four more weeks.”

Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I’m not really sure, Joseph. Maybe. It’s difficult to say at this point, but we definitely stopped him cold.”

“Now, I’m intrigued, sir,” Joseph said. “Just begin with my injury and don’t skip any of the details.”

Jonathan smiled. “It’s a riveting story, old friend, but first you need to get your rest. You’ve had a hard road.” He stood up and walked to the door. “Can I get you anything?”

“I suppose a peaceful night’s rest would be the most welcome thing right now,” Joseph said.

Jonathan nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

•••

Three months later, Douglas Tanner hunched over his microscope, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I’m afraid it’s worse than I suspected, Jonathan.”

Jonathan watched the scientist from his chair and sighed. “I was afraid of that. Well, I guess that explains the hair loss.”

Doug rose from the microscope oculars, nodding. “At least you’re not as bad as me.” He rubbed his high shiny brow. “The thing is, you’re really burning the candle at both ends. Even taking it easy these past three months has done little to slow the progressive metabolic burnout.”

Joseph straightened behind Jonathan’s chair, brushing lint from the sleeve of his suit jacket. He placed his hand on Jonathan’s right shoulder. “How long would he have without using this procedure, Dr. Tanner?”

Joseph said nothing. Doug stood up and walked over to Jonathan. “At least we’ll have you preserved while you’re still in prime condition. I’ll do all that I can, put all of our resources on this problem. When I find the antidote, we can restore you from this point.”

Jonathan and Joseph looked at one another. “It’s your decision, Jonathan,” Joseph said. “You know I vote for anything that will keep you alive.”

Jonathan considered it. He had been considering it for weeks now, since Doug had first informed him of what he was up against, trying to reverse the effects of Trenton’s Generation X Mutagen. “As much as I hate the idea of cryo containment, it seems like the alternative, wasting away, is worse.” He looked at Joseph and Doug. “I’ll do it.”

Doug slapped his meaty palms together, smiling. “Good. Then I’ll get cracking on this thing, without the worry of how fast you’re degenerating.” He slapped Jonathan on the shoulder, winking at him. “I don’t think you’ll regret this, my boy.”

Jonathan looked at the single cryo unit standing upright in the corner of Doug Tanner’s lab—a mock-up, but similar in design to what he would sleep in. “I hope you’re right.”