Sweet Dreams (36 page)

She woke up her daughter, and they planned how they were going to play a game of hide and seek. However, this time it would be for their lives.

DREAMS

335

Chapter Twenty-Four

remembered in his dream down to the black stock and the way the cold metal felt in his hands. He thanked the confused Fred and sent him on his way. He didn't want to know what Mark was going to do with it and Mark was in no mood to have a long dull conversation with the fat drunk.

The road was paved with graying blacktop, and the fall leaves shone in bright colors making the world and the hills come alive with bright reds, orange and yellows. Mark liked it a lot better than the snow--then again, was it really snow or what? He wasn't sure what to think, the dream or whatever he had gone through took him through a year of life which, he had no desire to repeat. He was in uncharted territory now; his future was in his own hands now and for better or worse he believed what he dreamed or saw was real or would be real if 336 AARON

he didn't act.

He glanced in his rearview mirror, looking for something.... or someone, he couldn't remember why, but he had this feeling that he was supposed to see someone.
A car, maybe, or a woman. Yeah, a woman.
He remembered bits and pieces of what he saw but it was coming back to him as he went along this dangerous path.

A KOA Campground sign loomed up ahead, and he soon saw the dirt road turning off to the left calling to him like some spirit pulling him to his fate. He looked at himself in the mirror one last time and turned his Honda down the dirt road. The face he saw was hard and he almost did not recognize it. The look in the face that stared back at him had dark blue eyes that held every terror and fear ever thought or imagined. It scared him and he looked away before he lost his nerve. He found the wide spot in the road just before a hill that rose and fell opening up to the valley beyond. He could see the cabin in his mind standing there like a lonely gunslinger, hand on his hip, waiting for the showdown. The shotgun was loaded and ready and Mark locked the doors to his Honda and started down the road with it cradled in his left arm. The cabin looked the same, but without a pile of wood stacked on the porch. He saw three trucks parked in front of the cabin, the same three that he remembered and a chill ran its way up his spine making him shiver. The men inside were going to see someone other than Pat today, and he didn't want money.

Mark crouched behind an old Gray Chevy truck and could hear the three men in an intense argument inside. Peering around the front bumper, he could see one of the men standing

DREAMS

337

with his back to the front window. He was waving his arms and yelling in a dramatic fashion, which looked a lot like a crazy person screaming about the end of the world.
Time to make history, Mark!
He could feel his heartbeat in his ears pounding like a jackhammer, it thumped and pulsed and then, like a machine, he seemed to drop a gear and he could physically feel his heart slow and a feeling of control and knowing moved through him.

Mark jumped up from his hiding place and bull-rushed the door with his shoulder down and gripped the shotgun. The door splintered in a cracking, groaning sound and gave way under the force of Mark's body as he crashed through the weakened door.

The three men were shocked, to say the least. The leader jumped in horror and pulled out a .45 from his hip holster with a twisted jerky movement that told Mark instantly that he was not used to drawing his weapon.

Mark rolled up to his feet and pumped a shell into the leader's chest, causing him to fly back with his arms and legs out in front of him. He hit the back wall and his gun clattered to the ground sliding away spinning as it went. The big man landed in a bloody heap with a huge red stain covering his chest and running down his legs and onto the floor. The other two men froze in horror as they watched their leader fall to the floor so fast that they hesitated wondering if what they just saw was real or imagined. Mark was on his feet and had the business end of the shotgun pointed at them before they could even react.

"Anyone else?" Mark asked in a calm almost conversational voice. The two men did not hesitate this time and 338 AARON

dropped their weapons like obedient children.

"Sit down at the table with your hands up--you drop your hands, you die!" He waved the shotgun toward the table and the two men did as they were told.

Mark saw the shell of a phone sitting on the table and a black remote detonator next to it. Picking it up, he looked at it and smiled. The smile was not a pleasant one; the blond scruffy haired man twitched in his seat and shot a nervous glance at his dead friend.

"So you've been up to no good, I see. What will happen if I push this button?" He moved his hand over the red button hovering like a rattlesnake, and the two men grunted and started to rise in protest.

"Sit down!" Mark pumped another round into the chamber and pointed it at them. His mind was racing and each bit of information processed so fast that he did not even know what it all meant until he had time to think about it later. The cabin layout, windows and doors locked or open, possible hiding places and as all this filtered through his mind he moved and acted based on what he saw and somehow knew. The bomb was wired and about to be placed into the phone when an argument ensued about who was going to detonate the bomb. Mark remembered Pat had hit the light on the top of the phone to activate the bomb and now saw that they did not trust each other and for good reason. The poor sap that activated the bomb would be expendable and they all knew it. Walking over to the scarred wooden table, he leaned over and found a button that looked to be the right one on the top of the phone casing. He pushed it and the two men flinched as the red light came on.

DREAMS

339

"It's ironic that you should have this bomb here at this very moment," Walking around behind the men, Mark pushed the end of his shotgun against the hairy one's head. They did not pay much attention to Mark; they were staring at the bomb that was now activated and sitting a few feet from them. Mark was silent and calm as he for a brief moment thought about what he was going to do, but then he knew that he had already made up his mind how this story was going to end. Pulling out four zip ties, he tied the men's hands together; then their free hands were tied to the table legs so they had to sit with their heads on the table. The shorter man with a red flannel shirt pulled up, spit at Mark, and cursed in a run of sailor like profanity.

Without any reaction, Mark wiped it off. He took the phone bomb and strapped it to his back with some duct tape that was sitting on the table. He taped their mouths and as he taped the bomb to the spitter, he kicked and squirmed as the blond mouthed something under the tape over his mouth. Mark didn't look at him and worked without saying a word, he was blind, deaf, and would not come out of, whatever was now running through his blood until the killing was done. Walking out the front door, he looked around at the trees and the beautiful fall colors wondering how something so ugly could be in the mist of something so beautiful. Mark walked back to his car and turned to look at the little cabin that sat in the valley below like a painting you might find in an expensive hotel lobby.

It is a great day for a...

Then he pressed the red button.

A mushroom cloud rose to the sky and the screeching 340 AARON

squeal of ripping metal and wood filled the little valley as if the very hand of God had reached down and crushed the entire valley under his mighty hand. A rush of wind came up the valley and blew past Mark's face lifting red and yellow leaves into the air.

Better here than in a crowded supermarket. The simple thought did not justify what he had just done--but somehow he felt no guilt for it and when he went home and kissed K, and held Sam in his arms, he had a feeling he would not only never feel guilty, he might even think of this day in the future, as the day he saved his family.

Getting back into his Honda Accord, he turned around and drove back toward the expressway. He had just enough time to make it home and get ready for dinner.

________________________________________

KIRK COULD FEEL BLOOD caked to his eyelids and it made opening them more difficult. He opened them with care and looked around to see how bad it was. He was in a different cell, but they were all the same to him--dark and cold. His body shrieked in pain with every movement, even breathing hurt but he didn't have a way of not doing that. Sitting up, he could see light coming from under the door.
Is it morning, or is it still night?

He could not tell, all he knew was he had to get out of here because this time they would kill him and not be so stupid around him knowing that he had killed a few of their men already. Then he shivered as he remembered the woman and the little girl. He hoped that they were all right.
A plan
--he needed a plan to escape this place. He didn't

DREAMS

341

even know where he was, or what country, for that matter. However, one thing he knew without any doubt, if he stayed here much longer, he was going to die.

Pulling himself to his feet, Kirk dragged himself to the old thick wooden door and began pounding and yelling for a guard. He threw in a few remarks about their mothers and the stench that surrounded them--not entirely sure what he was going to do if one of the Russians came.

The yelling worked and the loud footfalls announced his arrival so Kirk backed away from the door. A masked guard carrying a fully automatic machine gun came bursting into the room like a bull in a china shop.

"I want to talk to the person in charge, your boss, the main pig leading this pack of swine! You understand tough guy?"

The guard whipped the butt of his gun around, hitting Kirk across the jaw and sending him flying to the ground. Spitting blood out onto the concrete floor, Kirk looked up from his knees at his attacker. He just stood there looking back at him through his black ski mask.

Stepping aside, another guard came in with a chair. Kirk was tied to it and blindfolded like before and he clenched his jaw as each broken rib cursed his name with each breath in and rough movement.

Okay, this might be good; at least I could die in peace.
The sound of a third set of footsteps could be heard as someone else entered the room. Kirk could hear the sound of another chair as it scraped on the concrete making a
nail on the
chalkboard sound.

"Detective Weston, you have been trouble for me. You killed some of my men, and you took two of my very impor-342 AARON

tant prisoners," The voice came with an accent but Kirk couldn't place it, it was very familiar but something was not right with it, as if he was faking it to try to disguise his voice. Kirk was glad. That meant they were still out there, hiding somewhere.

"What do you want from me?" Kirk's voice sounded cracked and weak even though he tried to make it sound like he was in no pain at all. But some things you can't fake. Kirk's simple question was met with a chuckle. "You should have figured it out by now, detective, unless you are dumber than I thought."

"You're the mole!"

"Ah, yes. Then you have been paying attention!"

Kirk thought as fast as he could. This had to be an FBI or CIA agent. "So what made you turn against your own kind?

You some sort of religious wacko or something?"

"No, no," He chuckled. "Religion is for people who need God and are weak. I want God's power! And soon I will have it!"

Kirk tried not to laugh right in the guy's face. He needed more information before he was executed and the guy seemed ready and willing to talk to his dying prisoner. "Let me guess, you are one of these World Justice Agency freaks that think they can decide who lives and who dies, and it all went to your head--am I close?"

By the silence in the room, he figured he hit on something. He could feel the anger rising in the room. "The WJA is a drop in the bucket compared to what I am capable of. They betrayed me! They left me and now are trying to kill me!"

His voice rose as he stood up and walked over to where Kirk

DREAMS

343

was tied up.

"You are one of them aren't you, Detective? You are here to kill me?"

This time Kirk laughed. "No, I'm trying to catch the WJA and the mole that is working with them. I'm not a big fan of the vigilantes myself."

Kirk was beginning to put the pieces together. This guy used to be in the WJA and worked with the FBI, he was their inside guy. Now he is rogue and out killing and doing whatever else on his own. The WJA must have dropped him when he went psycho, and now he is trying to bring down the WJA himself.

"I set up and gave top-secret information to them, and then they tied everything back to me and tried to set me up. No one sets me up!" He leaned down and yelled in Kirk's ear. "Then you come along and mess everything up with your
investiga-
tion
, you start putting your nose into places where it doesn't belong!"

"You killed a cop and his wife!"

"He was a liability, it had to be done. You see, I am going to take down the WJA by bombing supermarkets and schools in
their
name. The FBI, CIA and every other government organization will hunt them down without mercy. Then I will take over as the leader and I'll be the hero!"

"You won't get away with it!" Kirk growled.

Kirk felt the man's harsh breath on his face as he screamed at him. "Who's going to stop me?"

The door slammed with a loud bang, and Kirk was once again left alone. He was still tied up and blindfolded and he could taste blood as he licked his lips. He had to stop this lu-344 AARON