BRAINRUSH 02 - The Enemy of My Enemy (21 page)

The inferno gulped down the pool of gas, leaping upward as it licked the petrol that clung to the walls of the vent. The spiraling bonfire cast a flickering amber glow across the cavern.

Screams of pain from above signaled that the ploy had worked, at least to some degree. But as the gasoline was consumed and the flames died down, angry shouts confirmed the worst.

“What now?” Marshall said, watching the dwindling fire.

“Sit tight,” Tony said. He leaned over the ledge and peered down at the swirling water.
Pray that the assholes still alive don’t have any explosives in their truck.

Chapter 37

The Sonoran Desert, Mexico

S
omething about moving things with his mind didn’t sit well with Jake. It wasn’t just the blistering headache it gave him afterward, or even the temporary lightheadedness that swept over him. It was the fact that it seemed so damn unnatural for a human being to do such things…at least at this stage in man’s evolution.

Battista’s scientists had proclaimed that the MRI accident had caused Jake’s brain to leap forward thousands of years on the evolutionary scale, giving him the ability to project his thoughts, speed up his reflexes, and even move small objects to some degree. While that might have been true, the declining condition of his heart was a grim testament to the fact that the rest of his body was still firmly stuck in the twenty-first century and unable to keep up.

Sure, his telekinesis had been pretty cool at first, and he had used it to good purpose at the roulette wheel in order to fund their assault on Battista’s stronghold. The talent had even saved his life when the plan had gone bad and he’d fallen into Battista’s hands. But it had also been the singular attribute that had triggered the alien obelisk and launched it into space. Just thinking about it made Jake’s head swim. If, or
when
, the aliens returned, they would find that mankind’s violent nature had flourished. Hell, when they last visited, we were only killing each other one at a time with clubs. Now we’ve developed the ability to kill millions with the press of a button.

He studied the sole window in the room. The three-by-three frame was hinged on the upper corners, designed to swing outward from the bottom when opened. Using his sleeve, he wiped a small circle in the grimy glass and peered outside. It looked like they were in a hangar at an abandoned airfield. Only one guard remained. He sat in the passenger seat of the jeep, an AK-47 in his lap. One foot dangled out the open door.

Jake wrapped both hands around the paint-encrusted swivel lock at the bottom of the window. He tightened his grip and twisted. The latch opened with a soft crunch.

He hesitated, thinking back to the confrontation with the terrorists in front of the ranch house. Despite his best efforts, he’d been unable to tap into his quick reflexes when he’d needed them most. Whether he liked it or not, his super abilities seemed further from reach with each passing day. Like a failing afterburner, they sputtered and coughed when he firewalled the throttle. He would depend on his mind, not his speed.

A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Francesca was in place. She listened at the door. She would alert him in case anyone approached. They exchanged a quick nod.

He blew out a long breath and focused on a small pile of debris beside the jeep. He wrapped his mind around an empty soda can. His heart rate jumped in response. Jake grimaced, but he ignored the risk, and when he felt the familiar flush of blood at his forehead, he gave a sharp tug with his mind. The can skittered across the dusty tarmac as if reeled in by a fishing line.

Instantly the guard became alert. He slid to his feet and panned the area with his assault rifle. His gaze narrowed on the red soda can as it settled to a stop. It was three strides away from the exterior wall. With a focused burst of mental energy, Jake jerked hard. The can jumped forward as if it had been kicked. It smacked into the aluminum siding and settled just beneath the window.

The guard’s face paled. He glanced nervously from side to side and edged closer to the building. The muzzle of his weapon was directed at the can.

Fighting a momentary wave of dizziness, Jake ducked beneath the sill. The man’s shadow grew larger on the window, shifting side to side as he approached. Jake coiled his muscles, ready to spring. He measured the terrorist’s movements in his mind:
He’d stop just in front of the window, focused on the can. Then he’d nudge it with the toe of his boot… 

Jake rose and launched a vicious heel kick that struck the base of the steel window frame. It flew open in a rising arc that collided with the underside of the guard’s nose. There was a crunch of broken cartilage. The man’s eyes went wide and he fell backward like a toppled statue.

Jake dove through the opening and landed shoulder-first in the man’s solar plexus. But the discharge of air from the guard’s lungs wasn’t followed by the expected fit of gagging and coughing. Instead, the man remained still. Jake suspected that the cartilage of his nose must have driven into his brain. He checked his pulse. Dead.

Jake pushed aside a momentary wave of guilt and jerked the rifle from the man’s death grip. He swung the muzzle from left to right to clear the area. No shouts of alarm. No heads popped around a corner. He motioned Francesca through the window. “Hurry!” he said, extending his hand. “We’re outta here.”

Jake leapt into the driver’s seat. Francesca climbed into the passenger seat. He reached for the key.

It was missing.

“Crap,” he mumbled under his breath.

Chapter 38

Beneath the Sonoran Desert, Mexico

N
o time to think.

Like a pro diver, Lacey knifed headfirst into the turbulent water. Her loosened cave helmet tore from her head. She surfaced and locked onto the twirling beam of Sarafina’s helmet lamp. It was still on the girl’s head. She was just out of reach, caught in a swirling vortex. Her orange life jacket was losing its buoyancy battle against the massive volume of flushing water. A distant part of Lacey’s mind recalled Sarafina’s insistence on keeping the jacket snug around her. She’d said,   “It feels like Daddy’s hugging me
.
”
Everyone else had dumped theirs onto a pile.

Including Lacey.

She clawed through the water with powerful strokes, determined to save her seven-year-old friend. But before she completed her second scissor kick, the surge threw her into a violent spin. It sucked her toward the underwater chute at an alarming speed.

She spiraled downward, her flailing limbs unable to counter the force of the water.

A flash of orange. Sarafina’s startled eyes. A tiny outstretched hand. Lacey reached out, but the current rag-dolled her around and their fingertips only grazed. She swept past the child and spun into the four-foot-wide chute.

She was enveloped in pure darkness. No up. No down. Lacey tumbled through the water at the mercy of the roiling current. She crossed her arms over her face for protection, fighting with every ounce of her core strength to position her feet downstream. Her shoulder caromed off the side of the twisting tube. A sharp outcrop scraped along her thigh, ripping jeans and skin. A slice across an elbow. The pain was distant. Her lungs demanded fuel. Speed increased and the water texture changed. It softened and filled with a churning froth. She felt her body lift and drop repeatedly and a vague part of her mind imagined that the rushing flow must be passing over a series of boulders. Time stretched. Seconds became a lifetime.

The fire in her lungs consumed her thoughts and Lacey realized the end was near. Reluctantly, she released the tension in her limbs and relaxed into the ride.
Wasn’t she supposed to be on the movie set today? The role would have been her big break.
She allowed herself to be caressed by the water. The final minutes of her life were upon her.
If only she could have saved Sarafina…
 

She thought of Marshall, being wrapped in his arms, and settled into the embrace of the froth-filled current.

Froth-filled current…

Bubbles in the water…

With a start, Lacey realized that the ceiling height must have risen above the water level. It was the only way that air could be introduced into the mix. Fighting the urge to inhale, she pressed the last ounce of her energy into her limbs, arms outstretched. She jackknifed blindly. First in one direction and then another.

A hand broke the surface. She clawed after it with a final desperate kick.

Bursting through, she gasped in a huge lungful of cool, blessed air. She sucked in again and again, the joy of life spreading warmth through her body. Her mind cleared and she realized that the loud rumble in her ears was not coming from her thankful heart. It emanated from a growing disturbance just ahead.

Mist filled the air, and a half-beat later she was weightless, falling.

Lacey tumbled down the short falls, hitting the water sideways in a huge splash that wrenched her neck to one side. A stab of pain shot down her spine and took her breath away. An instant later the rushing current regained its hold. She struggled to keep her head above water. A wide halo of sunlight speared the darkness a hundred yards ahead, revealing an expansive cavern split by the river. The passage ahead was strewn with large boulders, over which water crashed in thundering rooster tails. The turbulent rapids swept her forward.

She kicked out, dodging the first boulder, then the second, twisting through the surge, arms and legs pumping. The river curved sharply. Plumes of water cascaded around her, spinning her around.

Her unprotected head smacked against a rock.

Everything went fuzzy. Just before the blackness overcame her, Lacey could have sworn she heard a high-pitched scream reverberate from the falls behind her.

Chapter 39

The Sonoran Desert, Mexico

“S
tay put,” Jake said to Francesca. “I’m going for the keys!” He grabbed the AK and ran toward the dead guard. He patted down the body. No joy.

The second guard.

The squeak of a door blasted a surge of adrenaline into Jake’s system. He spun toward the noise. Five paces away, a door swung open. It stopped midway as the person on the other side got a last word in with someone behind him. Jake launched himself into the door. It slammed into the man and shoved him back into the room. Jake yanked the door open and rushed inside, leading with his weapon.

The soldier lay sprawled on his side, propped on one elbow. His shocked face turned beet red as Jake trained the AK-47 at his forehead. The man’s eyes narrowed. Jake read his intentions an instant before the soldier snapped his foot out in an attempt to sweep Jake’s legs. Jake dodged to one side and thrust the butt of his rifle into the man’s temple. The soldier rolled over with a groan and lay still.

In the split second that passed, the second man in the room hadn’t moved a muscle. He stood frozen in shock, mouth agape, a white-knuckled hand clutching a corked test tube half filled with an amber liquid. Even though he wore the same uniform as the rest of Battista’s gang, it was apparent from his short stature and pudgy face that he was no soldier. His dark eyes were huge behind his bifocals.

Jake trained the assault rifle on his ample gut. “Not a sound,” he whispered.

The man nodded vigorously. He raised his hands in the air. One still grasped the test tube.

Jake felt his blood boil as he took in the contents of the small room: a cot with a thin mattress spotted with blood stains, a suspended IV bag, an open doctor’s bag, a clutter of medical equipment on a side table that included a flexible probe connected to a laptop.

He closed in on the man, jamming the muzzle of the rifle into the underside of his pockmarked chin. The doctor had to rise to the tip of his toes to keep from being impaled.

“What—the—hell—did—you—give—her?” Jake growled in Dari.

The doctor’s face paled. His chin stretched upward to its limit. His gaze twitched toward the vial in his upraised hand. “I—I was only following orders,” he rasped.

Voices from down the hallway reminded Jake that time was his enemy. He snatched the vial from the man’s hand. “And the antidote?” Jake said.

The man’s shaking fingers pointed at the leather satchel on the bed. “In my b—”

A sharp knee to the doctor’s groin silenced the man and doubled him over. Jake grabbed the test tube from his clutches. Then he cracked the butt of the rifle into the back of the man’s balding head. The doctor folded to the floor like a wet rag.