Rogue (Book 2) (The Omega Group) (2 page)

When they exited the plane, Carter was hit with a blistering
wave of heat. He couldn’t understand why people always said a dry heat was
better. An oven has dry heat, and the meat that came out of one never looked
happy about the lack of humidity. Dressed in loose jeans and a button-down
shirt, he immediately wished he’d chosen something lighter.

The stairs leading from the jet wobbled as Carter stepped
onto them, and he grabbed the railing to keep from tumbling down to the tarmac.
He felt the searing heat of the bullet as it skimmed past his skull and lodged
into the fuselage.
Shit.
“Shooter!” he yelled while unholstering his
Glock. He flipped himself over the rail and dropped to the ground, pressing his
back to the plane and using the stairs as cover.

Although in the movies the hero always remained calm and
cool while under fire, reality was a completely different story. The
fight-or-flight response, ingrained in the DNA of every human being since the
dawn of man, took over whether it was welcome or not. Carter could feel his
heart rate accelerate as the adrenaline surged through him. He kept his
breathing even and his mind focused through sheer force of will, not the
fictional nerves of steel Hollywood propagated.

Scanning the area, he searched for any sign of the shooter.
There weren’t many vantage points that would be easily accessible to a man with
a rifle. Though the airport was small, with lighter security than most, it was
still an airport.

The movement was so slight that Carter almost missed it
through the scaffolding of the stairs. A luggage trolley sat abandoned about a
hundred yards off the port wing. Its blue plastic flaps were hanging down over
the sides of each of the three bag carts. A crinkle in the plastic of the first
cart, about a foot from the top, suddenly disappeared as it returned to its
hanging position. Something had been holding it slightly open.

“Han,” Carter kept his voice as low as possible so as to not
alert their attacker. “Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear. You got a bead on him yet?”

“Luggage cart to your left. First cart. Can you draw his
fire?”

“Not a problem.” Han stepped through the doorway of the jet
and casually walked down the stairs. When he reached the tarmac, he paused.
“Maybe he already left.” As if on cue, a bullet pinged off the metal railing
directly behind him. “Guess not. I’ll go left.”

Carter watched as Han ran, bullets flying through him as
though he wasn’t even there.
That is one handy little power
. Carter
always loved being able to shape-shift into a wolf, but Han’s ability to change
his molecular structure in order to pass through solid objects and, as in this
case, have solid objects pass through him, definitely made some things a lot
easier.

While the shooter was busy targeting Han, undoubtedly
questioning his abilities and aim, Carter sprinted to the front of the cart.
The rifle’s muzzle protruded a good eight inches, so he knew exactly where the
man holding it was positioned. Without making a sound, he stepped to the
back side
. Jackie, who’d used Han’s diversion to join him,
stood to one side of the cart while he took the other. At Carter’s nod, she
yanked back the plastic. The shooting stopped immediately and the rifle fell to
the ground as Carter pressed the business end of his Glock to the man’s ear.

Carter took in every detail of the man crouched in front of
him. He was Native American with black hair tied in a ponytail that reached his
waist. A crescent-shaped scar trailed down from the corner of his right eye.
“So, is this one of those
‘I’ve had a really bad week so I’m going to go
shoot some random people’
things? Or were you looking specifically to ruin
our day?”

The shooter’s cold stare, tinged with more than a little
hatred,
told
Carter everything he needed to know. “Who
sent you?”

Still no response.

“All right, then. Get on the jet.” Carter grabbed the man’s
elbow and hauled him from the cart. “Let me tell you how this is going to go
down. Normally, I’d ask you a bunch of questions. Of course you wouldn’t answer
any of them because you’re too stupid.” The man continued to stare. “Yep, the
stupid ones always try the stare. Anyway, like I was saying, we’d go through
all the usual paces and get pretty much nowhere. Other than me and my friends
here enjoying every minute of kicking your ass.

“But, because we have people to see and places to go, I’m
going to skip all that and send you back east on that jet over there. It’s
quite a nice ride actually, other than the new bullet holes messing with the
paint job. You’ll pay for that, by the way. So, after spending a four-hour trip
in shackles, you’ll be taken to Finley’s Basement. Ever heard of it? No? Don’t
worry. No one has—ever. That’s the secret prison where we keep all the
super-talented bad guys that are just too much for a regular prison to handle.”

The man made no comment. Carter watched the shooter’s eyes
as he spoke, waiting for the telltale signs of fear. So far, nothing.
Time
to kick it up a notch
.

“And when I say super-talented, I mean it. Hell, I’m
Havasupai and those guys make me look like a Chia pet.”

There it is.
It was obvious that this guy knew, and
believed, the Havasupai legends because his eyes widened ever so slightly, then
focused on the ground.

The sound of a chopper approaching halted their one-sided
conversation. Both Carter and Jackie looked to the sky, momentarily distracted
by the interruption. That moment was all it took. The man shoved Jackie into
Carter’s chest, sending them both toppling to the ground.

Then the unexpected happened. One minute the man was running
away as fast as his two feet would take him. The next, his two feet were
replaced by four paws, and his speed increased exponentially. Jackie raised her
weapon and fired, but the impact had virtually no effect. Within seconds, the
shooter was safely in the woods that surrounded the airport.

“Well, that’s new,” Han said as he caught up to them. “I
didn’t know your people could shift into bears, too.”

Carter stared off into the woods, his brain trying to catch
up with what his eyes had just seen. “We can’t.”

Two men in camouflage, who must have acclimated to the heat
to still be standing upright, walked over to them from the helicopter that
landed moments before. “Please come with us,” the taller one said. Then both
men turned, and walked away.

Han chuckled as they followed, mumbling under his breath, “I
take it manners didn’t make the list of attributes they’re trying to develop in
the Super Soldier program.”

“You’re a little late, soldier,” Carter was in a mood after
their run-in with the shooter and was itching to take out his frustration on
someone.

“No, sir. You were early.”

The chopper’s rotors were in full swing and everyone
instinctively ducked low when they entered, even though their heads were
nowhere near the danger zone. The pilot finished his pre-flight checklist as
they each buckled in.

“I’ll need all of you to read this and sign at the bottom.”
The tall soldier handed each of them a clipboard with several sheets of paper
attached and a pen.

Carter tried to hand his papers back immediately. “We have
top-secret clearance, Sergeant.”

“Not for this you don’t.”

The Omega Group agents looked at each other, shrugged, and
began the arduous task of reading the non-disclosure agreement in front of
them. Although it was several pages of legalese, when Carter finished reading
he figured it could have easily been boiled down to one sentence. “If you
breathe a word of what you see here to anyone—ever—you will spend the rest of
your natural life locked away in a secret prison.”

Once the soldier held all three of the signed documents in
his hand, he signaled the pilot to take off. Carter took a last look at the
woods out the window as the chopper slowly rose into the sky. Maybe he’d get
lucky and spot the guy.

But it wasn’t a guy he spotted. Instead, a woman, tall and
slender, came out from behind a tree and walked toward the tarmac. She looked
up at the helicopter as though she could sense Carter watching her. The sun
highlighted a bright white flower that was tucked behind her ear. The sight of
that flower brought with it a rush of memories. Some of the best—and worst—of
Carter’s life. Of course, that girl below them wasn’t Gina. She’d been gone for
a long time. He shook his head to rid himself of the memories brought on by
being so close to home.
Get your head in the game,
Carter thought to
himself.

The flight was short, and in a few minutes they were
hovering over a large forest about ten miles past the canyon. “I thought your
facility was located at the North Rim,” Carter said.

“It is,” the sergeant replied. “This is just the entrance.”

It was obvious the soldier had an aversion to conversation,
and the other one may have lacked even the ability to speak, so Carter held his
tongue.

When the helicopter landed in a natural clearing, the group
made their way to a small cement building, almost completely covered in
foliage, situated just inside the tree line. The sole feature of the building
was a heavy metal door, the sort usually found on old bomb shelters. The
sergeant entered an impossibly long code on the keypad, and the door swung,
unassisted, inward.

Once they were all inside, the sergeant stepped up to
another keypad on the far wall and entered another code. With the hiss of an
airlock seal, the metal door behind them swung closed, while a set of elevator
doors opened in front of them. Without a word, the sergeant stepped into the
oversized elevator with the rest of the group following closely behind. Carter
noticed that there were no buttons on the wall, yet the elevator was already
descending. When the doors opened onto a cavernous room carved into the rock,
Carter got the distinct impression that he was Alice emerging from the rabbit
hole.

Golf carts lined the walls and the group joined Sergeant
“whatever-his-name-was” in the closest one. There was almost no noise as they
made their way through the long tunnel. Electric lights, strung at ten-foot
intervals along the ceiling, barely made a dent in the darkness.

Carter could feel his heart rate increasing with every mile.
He’d never been one for cramped spaces. Not because of some childhood trauma
like falling in a well, but because, since the day he was born, he’d spent most
of his life outside. The only time he stayed inside was to sleep—and sometimes
not even then. Now, he could feel the wolf inside him fighting to get out. Its
natural instincts were the same as Carter’s, and it definitely wanted to get
topside.

Han grabbed his shoulder and stared at him. “Are you holding
it together?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

The other soldier turned in his seat to look at Carter and
spoke for the first time. “Don’t worry. Lots of people get freaked out in this
tunnel. We’re almost there, though.”

That didn’t make Carter feel any better, but the kid was
true to his word. As the end of the tunnel approached, a large, well-lit room
came into view. There were at least a dozen people milling about. Some wore
military fatigues and others lab coats. When they parked the golf cart, the
young soldier plugged it into a charging station saying, “Welcome to Oz.”

“I assume you don’t get many visitors down here.” Jackie
looked around the room at all of the people staring quizzically at them.

An unknown voice boomed from behind them. “No, ma’am. We
don’t.”

The sudden interruption had them spinning on their heels.
The voice belonged to a man in his mid to late fifties with close-cropped brown
hair that had just begun to gray at his temples.

He reached out and shook Carter’s hand with a firm grip.
“I’m General Eryk Persaud. It’s nice to meet you.”

“And you, General. I’m Carter Mockta, this is Han Li and
Jackie Barns.”

After pleasantries and handshakes were exchanged, the
general turned his focus back to Carter. “Mockta? That’s Navajo, isn’t it?”

Carter was impressed. Most people couldn’t tell an Apache
from a Cherokee. “Havasupai, actually.”

“Really? And you’re with the Omega Group? I thought your
tribe stayed closer to home.”

Carter’s jaw clenched. “I’m the exception, sir.”

An easy smile graced the general’s face. “I guess this is a
homecoming for you, then. How was your flight?”

Carter couldn’t get into the details of their encounter at
the airport, but he needed the general’s help, so he gave a watered down
version. “We had a little trouble after we landed. Someone took a few pot shots
at the jet. No one was hurt, and we never got a good look at the shooter before
he disappeared into the woods, but our plane could use some repairs before it
heads back to Jacksonville this evening.”

“Not a problem,” the general said. “I’ll have some guys head
over to the airport right now and take care of any damage.” He nodded to the
sergeant who grabbed his phone and gave the orders. “You sure you’re okay?”

“We’re fine. Really. Do you mind if we ask you a few
questions?”

“Not at all. Where would you like to start? Director Finley
told me about the unusual happenings out there, but I have to admit that we’ve
been a little busy down here and haven’t had the time to investigate.”

“What exactly have you been working on, General?” Carter
didn’t want to insult the man by insinuating that his work had anything to do
with the problems, but it did seem like an obvious assumption.

“I know what you’re thinking, but you’re barking up the
wrong tree. There is no way that anything we’re doing down here could be
affecting the world up there. We’re completely self-contained and our security
measures are top notch.”

Han interrupted. “Um, sir? The entrance we came through was
well-camouflaged, but I wouldn’t call it overly secure.”

“Yes, well, that’s because you were invited guests. That
area of the park has been off limits to everyone, including park personnel, for
over ninety years. Some bullshit about unstable land and rockslides. Even if a
hiker did get curious, he’d never get within two miles of that entrance. We’ve
got the entire area wired for surveillance. Anyone steps foot inside our
perimeter and they’re met with one of our security forces, dressed as park
rangers of course, and politely asked to return to the trails. Sometimes the
simplest solutions are the best.”

Carter couldn’t argue that point. He’d grown up here and
never thought to question why most of the north side of the canyon was closed
to visitors. He’d heard the rumors about the supposed excavation of caverns
found in 1908 by the Smithsonian Museum. A front-page article in one of the
local newspapers at the time discussed their findings in great detail. Huge
caverns, burial tombs, Egyptian artifacts—all the stuff that mysteries were
made of. It turned out to be just another crazy conspiracy theory.

Or was it? He was currently standing in a huge cavern that
no one knew existed, hidden inside the north rim of the canyon. It occurred to
Carter that perhaps, when this was over, he would check into Area 51.

“We have two lines of research, running parallel, in
development here,” the general said. “First, we have our MDS program. That’s
the Metabolically Dominant Soldier program. We’re working on ways to increase
speed, strength, stamina, and healing in our men. Second, we’ve got our tech
program. No matter how physically superior our soldiers are, they still require
the best in protection and weaponry. We’ve got computer-controlled liquid body
armor that’s as light and flexible as cloth but turns as hard as steel when it
detects a bullet strike. We’re also working on giving that same suit reflective
properties that will render the wearer almost invisible. We’ve got Spring
Walker Boots in development that mechanically mimic the enlarged Achilles
tendons in kangaroos and will allow our boys to run at speeds up to twenty-five
miles per hour. In a nutshell, we’re bringing the comic book super-hero to
life.”

Carter was stunned, and by the looks on his companion’s
faces, he wasn’t alone. “How long have you been working on this stuff?”

“I’ve been running it for eight years now, but the program
itself dates back to the Second World War. We were responsible for short-wave
radios, radar, spy satellites, GPS, lasers, drones, and a whole lot more.”

“All of those things revolutionized the way we fought wars.”
Jackie’s voice was filled with the same awe Carter felt.

“Yes, they did. What we’re working on now will, hopefully,
do the same. And save a lot of lives, too. I’d be happy to give you a tour of
our facility if you like.”

Although there was nothing Carter would have liked more than
to see this stuff for himself, he had more pressing matters to deal with. “I
appreciate the offer, General, but we really need to focus on what’s happening
topside. Have you, or your people, noticed anything unusual in the area
lately?”

The general thought for a moment before answering. “No one
here’s reported anything like the auras Director Finley spoke of, but there’s
definitely been more violent crime since the Yavapai arrived.”

Carter couldn’t hide his shock. “The Yavapai are back? When
did that happen?”

“I’m sorry. I assumed you knew. They’ve been living on the
Navajo reservation for several months now. They kept pretty much to themselves
at first, but the bad blood between your tribe and theirs has been escalating.
I can’t imagine that they have anything to do with what you guys are here for,
though. It’s just been petty theft and a few bar fights.”

Carter knew there was probably a lot more to it than that,
but he couldn’t discuss his suspicions there. Although General Persaud knew the
Omega Group handled sensitive situations, he was definitely not in the loop
with regards to its member’s preternatural origins. “Thank you for your help,
General. We’d better be going. Any chance your helicopter pilot could drop us
at Supai Village?”

“He’s ready and waiting as we speak. If you change your mind
about the tour, let me know. It’s not often I get to share what we’re doing
down here.”

“Will do, General. Please keep me informed if you come
across any more information.” They exchanged business cards and pleasantries,
then the Omega agents were escorted topside.