Pulse

FORTY- FIVE

After tying Thor to one of the deck chairs and ordering him to stay, King entered the Snack Shack through its bright green, double screen doors that announced his entrance with a loud creak. He was about to greet Fred, the man behind the counter, when he noticed the dining room was empty. The double doors on the other side of the room swung back and forth. She'd just left.

"What can I get for ya?" Fred asked, but King ignored him and walked to the swinging doors. He pushed them open slowly, fearful of a trap. But the woman was walking quickly toward the woods. She glanced over her shoulder and met King's eyes again.

She ran.

The trees enveloped her quickly and she disappeared from view. King burst from the Snack Shack and sprinted toward the trees. Upon entering the forest, he drew his weapon. There was no doubt in his mind that this woman was with Gen-Y and he couldn't let her escape, even if it meant putting a bullet in her leg.

He could see her ahead, weaving in and out of the trees. Despite her weaving, she ran in a straight line. King was impressed by her speed and agility as she cleared fallen trees and brush with ease. His urge was to take a shot or shout for her to stop, but if there were others around he didn't want to attract their attention. It struck him then that she hadn't called in help yet, either.

Still wary of a trap, King forged ahead, slowly closing the distance. He lost sight of her as she rounded a moss-covered boulder, but something had changed in her gait as she disappeared. She wasn't running full out. She was slowing.

King bounded up the rock instead of around it. At the top, he leaped off, landing behind the woman, who had indeed stopped, and placed his gun against the back of her head.

Her hands came up quick. Empty. "I'm not armed!"

King dug his hand beneath the back of her shirt and removed a Metal Storm handgun. "Funny, you look armed."

"I meant I wasn't going to use it." She turned to face him. Her face was hard, but pretty, framed by shoulder-length brown hair. "Look, I came to find you."

"You knew where to find me?"

"Not you, no— I hoped to find someone. And I found you. But I couldn't risk being seen with you out in the open."

King kept his weapon aimed. "Who are you?"

"Anna Beck," she said, glancing left and right like a nervous animal.

King realized this was not a sanctioned visit. "So, what is a member of Gen-Y security doing at a Bible Campground? Come to ask God for forgiveness?"

King thought she would flinch at the revelation that he knew who she worked for, but the woman just met his stare and then dropped a bombshell of her own.

"Jack Sigler. Call sign "King." I have shoot-to-kill orders for you. We all do."

She knew who he was, too, just like the men in the desert. He mentally replayed the event, remembering the body shapes of the black-suited mercenaries. None were women. Beck wasn't there. Lucky for her. "And yet you didn't shoot."

"Not everyone at Manifold knows what's really going on. Most of the scientists know what they're working toward, but they have no idea that the volunteers are actually kidnapped, then murdered. And they certainly don't know that the technology they think will usher in a new age of health, long life, and prosperity will be sold to the highest bidder."

"But Gen-Y does?"

"Some of them, yes. But not all."

"And you're one of the people in the know?"

"I am now. I was given this." Beck pulled out a small USB drive and handed it to King. It matched the one found in the Amazon. "I have one just like it," he said.

Beck's eyebrows shot up and relief swept across her face. "You found Seth! He risked his life to get that. I didn't understand what was so important when he gave it to me, but— How is he?"

"Seth, I'm afraid, never made it out of the Amazon. He's dead."

She slumped and leaned against the boulder. The news struck her hard. Seth was a good guy.

"If it's any consolation, his life wasn't lost in vain. If we hadn't found him, Manifold would have finished its work unhindered on Tristan da Cunha."

Beck frowned. She'd been there. "How many people died?" she asked.

"Nearly nine hundred. Including the island's residents and over six hundred U.S. sailors."

"No…" she whispered, then found her voice again. "I was in the army. Served a tour in Iraq, then jumped ship."

He looked her in the eye, sizing her up, then guessed. "Too good at your job? At killing."

She nodded. "Some people are born to play basketball or cure cancer. I seem to be really good with a submachine gun. But it's not in my heart. I didn't want to kill people for a cause I wasn't one hundred percent sure about."

"So… you took the security job because what? You believe in Manifold's cause?"

"On the surface, yes. The PR garbage touts them as a humanitarian company out to solve the world's problems. Makes them look noble. Like something worth dying for. Or killing for. But they're no better than the people who sent me to Iraq, except that they pay better. But honestly, I didn't think we'd ever see any action. And I never thought I'd be one of the bad guys."

"How many more are there like you?"

"In Gen-Y?"

He nodded.

"If I thought there were others I wouldn't be here alone." The statement reminded her to check for eavesdroppers again. "Some of the others aren't that bad, but do I think they would leave the money and status behind…? What do they have to look forward to? It's not like people are lining up to hire Iraq vets these days. Going to war makes you a 'hero' to everyone but employers. At least for soldiers on the front lines, putting bullets into people. You can't do that and not have demons."

King nodded. She was right of course. It's what you did with the demons that mattered. But he wasn't a shrink and now wasn't the time to talk military philosophy. "Is there anything new on this thumb drive I should know about?"

Beck stood up straight. Back to business. "As far as I know, it's a copy of what you already found."

He pocketed the drive. "I'll take it anyway. Just in case." He looked her in the eyes. "Then the next big question I have is: What's to keep me from taking you in right now?"

"In fifteen minutes I'll be late and they'll know something is up. But if you want me to stage some kind of coup on the inside you can forget it. The Gen-Y's won't go for it and the scientists, well, they're scientists. They wouldn't stand a chance. Besides, I think they're done."

It was King's turn to stand up straight. "They've finished?"

"The labs are empty. I've only seen Maddox and Ridley working. If they're not done, they're close."

"Tell me about Maddox."

"Todd Maddox. A pretty-boy genetics wiz. From what I've heard, he came on a few years back, after Ridley hit a brick wall, and got things back on track. On the fast track, really. A good guy, I guess. But real squir-relly lately. Afraid."

"If he knows what's going on, he should be terrified. We all should be," King added. "But is he one of the bad guys?"

Beck chewed on that, but before she could answer, a shout, full of fear, rose in the distance. King looked back toward the campground, but couldn't make anything out. When he turned to face Beck again, she was in motion. Her foot connected hard with his chest, toppling him over. The impact jarred her weapon from his hand. She picked it up and bolted. King took aim as she fled, but held his fire. She'd dropped something next to him. A sheet of paper.

He looked at the page and found a hand-drawn map of the valley. She'd drawn Stinson Mountain and campground as reference points, then the mountain just behind the campground. There was an X through it and a hastily written, X marks the spot. They weren't only in their backyard, they were actually on the campground's property. Which meant someone here knew where. It's amazing what good people will do for money, he thought before thinking of Knight, who was reconnoitering dangerous territory. But warning Knight would have to wait.

King hid his weapon and dashed back to the campground where he could hear more distant screaming. Fred stood outside the Snack Shack, hand on his forehead, looking at the woods on the other side of the quad. A plume of smoke rose from the trees. "What's happening?"

Fred turned to him, his face struck with panic. "Fire."

Through the trees, King could see a cottage just inside the woods. Fire licked at the first-floor windows while smoke billowed from the second floor. "Who's cabin is that?"

"Doug and Linda Crowell. Elderly couple." Fred looked at him. "They had grandkids visiting this week, I think."

"Call nine-one-one," King said. He unclipped Thor's leash and launched across the quad like a heat-seeking missile, heading for the burning cottage. Thor stayed right by his side. He wasn't sure what he could do to help against the fire, but he doubted Pinckney had much in the way of a fire department, and Plymouth was a fifteen-minute drive. What he was sure about was that he'd sworn to protect the people of this country, and if that meant pulling them out of a burning building, so be it.

A small group was already gathered in front of the cabin. He stopped next to them and asked, "Is anyone home?"

An older man responded. "I was able to steal a peek in the first-floor bedroom and living room. Didn't see Doug or Linda. Must be out."

King didn't like taking the man's word for it, but with flames gutting the entire first floor, what choice did he have? Even thirty feet away the heat felt intense.

A scream switched off King's apprehension in an instant.

"The children are still inside!" a woman shouted.

"Stay!" King shouted at Thor, before heading for the front door and kicking it in. But the added oxygen fed the fire. King jumped back as a vortex of flames shot from the front door. A man helped him sit up and urged him to back away. The building was impossibly hot, set to collapse and a death trap for anyone who entered. King looked around for something that could help. A hydrant. Ladder. A puddle to roll around in before running in. But there was nothing. Then he saw the crowd, now thirty people strong. They were praying.

For what? A solution? The children's souls? "Damnit!" King shouted in anger. One of the woman closest to him opened her eyes and looked at him, in anger at first, then in wonderment. But she wasn't looking at him. She was looking behind him.

King turned just in time to see a fast-moving blur enter the cabin. While the others burst into frantic chatter about the man who'd just entered the building, King took up where they left off, saying a prayer for the man who he'd just seen enter: Bishop.