Terror Rising: Book 0 – The Insurgence (18 page)

“Yes, ma’am,” Angela said, not wanting to
argue. With Martinez free, she looked around the room for a cloth
or rag—anything. “We need to stop the bleeding,” she said, pointing
at his wounded arm. One glance at the rolling cart and it was
evident what had happened. A blue power drill lay among the knives,
its bit stained a dark red and speckled with tiny pieces of
flesh.

The rest of the FBI team rushed into the
room, guns drawn. They froze when they saw Martinez’s battered
appearance and wretched condition. They swarmed the table as
Sutherland turned to Lynch. “Grab a blanket or one of those cots
outside. We need to get him on air transport, immediately!”

Lynch and Hopper ran out of the room to see
what they could find. Sutherland opened a pouch connected to his
belt, revealing a first aid kit, much to Angela’s relief. Thaxton
took a backseat and began taking pictures of the room with her cell
phone.

“Here, hold this. Put pressure on it,”
Sutherland said to Angela, placing a gauze pad over one of the
wounds.

She placed her fingers on the pad and
pressed down as Sutherland wrapped the gauze strip around
Martinez’s arm, covering the wound. They did the same thing to the
other hole as Lynch and Hopper came into the room, Lynch holding a
thick blanket.

“Perfect,” Sutherland said. “Now let’s lift
him out of here and get him on the helicopter.” He gently nudged
Angela out of the way as they took positions around the table to
lift Martinez.

Hopper was at his ankles, Lynch at his
shoulders. Sutherland did a countdown and the two men lifted
Martinez up and carried him to the blanket on the floor, barely
getting a reaction from Martinez as he faded in and out of
consciousness.

“
We’ve got more medical supplies on
the helicopter. Let’s move!” Sutherland said. Lynch and Hopper
lifted him up, and the team left the room with Sutherland covering
them. Angela turned around to find Thaxton surveying the room with
grave interest.

“
Your team works well together,”
Angela said.

Thaxton nodded, not making eye contact.

Angela turned to the open door and then back
to the assistant director. “Are you coming, ma’am?”

Thaxton walked slowly toward Angela as
though she were distracted or just trying to take everything in.
When she spoke, her voice held an unmistakable threat. “Remember
what I said, Agent Gannon. This mission is classified. I’m sure you
understand.”

Angela could hold back no longer. “I watched
them shoot men as they were running away.” She paused and took
another step toward the assistant director, confronting her in a
way that she knew was unwise and imprudent. “They shot them in the
back. Clearly, you can see it all on the video feed.”

“
No one is going to see that video
feed,” Thaxton said, flippantly. She glanced at Angela’s reddened
face and tried to calm her with a squeeze on the shoulder. “But you
did well, Agent Gannon, despite your insolence. Your partner was
found and the terrorists were killed. I’d say it’s a
win-win.”

Angela didn’t feel the least bit comforted.
“We may never know who these men are. And if any of them got away,
well, this could blow up right in your face.”

Thaxton smiled, as though she were
half-amused. “Judging from their attire, these men are affiliated
with the Islamic State. And we hope they get the message. We want
them to see that the United States isn’t messing around
anymore.”

“
You can’t silence
both me and Martinez,” Angela said. “Sooner or later we’re going to
have to tell
our
superiors what happened.”

Thaxton turned from Angela, surveying the
room. “I’ll make this real easy for you, Agent Gannon. You do not
want to rile things up with this administration. You have a secure
job with great potential and a loving family. Same thing with
Martinez. The FBI has a job to do, and you will either work with us
or get out of our way.”

Angela stared back as their ferocious eyes
locked. She swallowed, trying to look brave and not the least bit
intimidated, though she was.

“
Do I make myself clear?” Thaxton
asked.

“
Yes, ma’am,” Angela said after a
moment of brief hesitation.

“
Good. Now let’s get Martinez to
medical.”

Thaxton stormed out of the room, not saying
another word and leaving Angela to examine the room of horrors: the
various blood-stains on the floor and wall, some fresh and others
dry. She then left the room with an overwhelming weight of mixed
emotions. In the end, all she wanted to do was to go home.

Angela climbed into the helicopter to find
Martinez—his arm wrapped in bandages, on the first bench seat, and
starting to come to. Thaxton climbed in after her, followed by
Sutherland. He closed the door. Angela turned around, looking for
the others.

“Where’s Agent Lynch and Special Agent
Hopper?” she said.

“They’re staying behind,” Sutherland said,
placing his helmet back on his sweaty head. “Another team has been
dispatched to clean up while we MEDEVAC Captain Martinez.”

Something about the phrase “clean up” didn’t
settle right with Angela, but she took her seat nonetheless at the
end of the bench seat across from Martinez. Thaxton sat next to
her. Sutherland leaned near the pilot, giving him a thumbs-up.

The pilot nodded and took the helicopter up.
Angela adjusted her helmet and strapped in as the cabin shook and
rattled with their quick ascent. Martinez snapped awake and began
looking around in a panic.

“Where the hell am I?” he said hoarsely,
wide-eyed.

Angela leaned close and ran her hand across
his head. “It’s okay, sir. We’re getting you out of here.” She had
a million questions but didn’t want to overwhelm him. It was good
enough that he was finally conscious. Both Thaxton and Sutherland
were eyeing him intently.

“He’s awake!” Angela said, turning to them
with relief.

“That’s good,” Thaxton said. “We’ll get him
taken care of.”

A brief glance out the window, and Angela
could see the desert getting larger and more spacious as they
reached higher altitude, trailing off and leaving the mysterious
and isolated terror compound behind. A place, according to the
assistant director, where they had never been.

***

It was early morning by the time Angela
returned to the Del Rio Border Patrol station, where she was
bombarded with questions from other agents about the mission. The
most she would confirm was that they had found Captain Martinez.
That morning, she was immediately summoned to Chief Drake’s office.
The sun streamed in through his blinds as she sat across from his
desk, exhausted and feeling a pounding headache, despite having
just taken two aspirins.

Her green uniform was dust covered and
dirty, with spots of dried blood. She assumed it had come from
Martinez’s wounds. Loose strands from her ponytail covered the
sides of her smudged and tired face.

Angela couldn’t recall if she’d been up for
two or three days. It seemed like forever since she last saw Doug
and the kids. Eager to let her get home, Drake had sat her down in
his office to get a recap of events.

Gone were the FBI assistant director and the
other agents. They had vanished from the station like ghosts.
Martinez had been taken to the Del Rio Regional Medical Center,
where he was rushed to intensive care, just to make sure, and
listed in stable condition. Angela was immensely relieved. She
could breathe again.

However, she had been whisked away from the
hospital and flown to the Border Patrol station before she could
speak with her partner. She’d have to give it time. The next day
perhaps. She knew where he was, and she planned to get their
stories right as soon as he was better.

With Martinez safely in the hospital, Angela
found herself alone with Chief Drake, the morning news playing on
his office television with the sound muted. They were talking about
a local home invasion that had occurred earlier but nothing too out
of the ordinary. As he sat across from her, pen in hand, Drake
seemed a little more at ease too.

“
The assistant director gave me a
brief rundown of what happened. She said that you had acted
heroically in assisting in Captain Martinez’s rescue.”

Angela nodded, unsure of what to say. Before
Thaxton had left the station, all she told Angela was to “remember
what she said.” Telling the truth was always the most obvious
choice for Angela, but without Martinez to advise her, it wasn’t
clear what to do.

Drake scribbled on his pad and then looked
up. His stubble had grown in the past day or two, and the bags
under his eyes were second only to hers. A steaming mug of coffee
rested right next to him, and Angela wondered if he had rested in
the past couple of days.

“For your efforts, Agent Gannon, I’m going
to recommend you for a Meritorious Service Award.”

It was the last thing she needed or wanted,
but for the time being, she played along. “Thank you, sir.”

He rubbed his eyes and groaned. “Of course,
we still have to get things in order for Agent Dawson’s memorial
service.”

“Yes, of course,” Angela said. “Any new
developments with that investigation?”

Drake set his glasses on the desk and
shrugged. “I was hoping that you could tell me. I mean, I thought
we’d find some kind of link between all of this: the chemical
agents, the explosion, Martinez’s disappearance. But right now,
it’s just business as usual until the FBI puts it together.”

“I understand,” she said as her eyelids grew
heavier under the cool air blowing from the vent above her.

Drake looked past her, peering through his
blinds and all the activity going on outside his office. He took a
sip from his coffee mug and then zeroed in on her. “Listen
carefully. A lot of people are going to be asking you what
happened. You’re suddenly very popular around here, and that’s not
always a good thing. Mum’s the word, you got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But as far as this sector is concerned, I
want a full report of the when, what, how, and why. I’ll expect the
same from Martinez when he’s ready. I’m happy that you’re both
back, but I’m very concerned about the entire shit-show.”

“Yes, sir.”

Drake leaned in closer and spoke low and
softly as though the FBI were listening at the door. “The assistant
director told me that Martinez was found in an abandoned outpost in
El Paso. What was he doing out there?”

Angela gripped the armrests of her
chair.

“Don’t worry,” he continued. “I’m sure we’re
found out from the horse’s mouth once Martinez comes to.”

Angela sighed. “As far as I know, sir, the
FBI thinks he was being held there by an ISIS sleeper cell.”

Drake rubbed his temples with both hands.
“Okay, got it.” He reached for his mug and took another sip,
pointing at Angela. “I want you to go home and get some rest. Need
you to fill out a statement before you leave, but you can work on
the report in the next day or two.” He paused for a moment and
scanned his scribbled notes. His head jerked up as though something
had just come to him. “Did you call your family yet and let them
know that you’re okay?”

She was surprised at his question and all
the more surprised that she hadn’t. Her phone, however, had died
hours ago.

“No, sir. But they’re just getting up, so
I’ll see them when I get home.”

“Okay then. You’ve got your marching orders.
I want a full report after you get some rest. We’ll get to the
bottom of this, Agent Gannon, if it’s the last thing this
department does. Dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir.” She slowly rose from her
chair, her body sore and aching. On her feet, she stopped and
glanced at the disheveled gray hairs and the wrinkles that creased
his face.

“What about you. Are you planning on getting
any rest?”

He paused, looked up at her, and smiled
faintly. “One day, when you’re in my position, you’ll
understand.”

Angela smiled and went to the door, opening
it and pausing. Other agents walked by and glanced at her as she
hesitated to leave.

“Chief Drake,” she said, turning back to
him.

He looked up with a curious expression.
“Yes?”

“About the recovery. Well, the raid didn’t
go exactly like they said it did…” She couldn’t believe her words
as they came out. But a battle with the FBI was inevitable, she
believed, no matter what she did.

“What are you talking about?” Drake
asked.

“The terror cell. We…”

Suddenly Drake’s office phone rang. He held
a finger up, asking her to wait, and then picked up the
receiver.

“This is Chief Drake, how can I help you?”
He stared ahead, listening, while Angela waited with her hand
holding the doorknob. She looked down the hall, thinking that it
was her moment to leave without facing any questions and forget
that she had brought anything up. The longer she waited, the less
chance she had to reconsider exposing the truth behind the FBI
raid.

“
What
?” Drake said, suddenly rattled,
his mouth wide open.

Angela grew nervous. Perhaps he was learning
the truth already. What would she say then?

“What do you mean live web stream?” He
grabbed his MacBook and flipped it open, typing wildly, with the
phone wedged between his shoulder and ear. He looked up in a panic
at Angela and waved at her to come inside and shut the office
door.

Confused and worried, she walked in and
gently closed it.

“Yeah, send me the link, okay?” he said with
urgency.

Angela pulled her chair closer to his desk
and sat. Whatever the conversation was about, it didn’t sound
good.