Son of Tesla

SON OF TESLA: Chapter 48

EVERYTHING BILL BRODHAM HAD ever known was being ripped away from him.

He'd been kicked out of the CIA. He'd been betrayed by his partner. His son was dead. His son was dead. And Clarice was leaving him.

She'd called him while he was on the road. The conversation had been short. Only one of them had spoken. When she hung up, they'd both been crying.

More than once, Brodham had considered steering his vehicle off the road. More than once, he'd shouted her name to the silent car. The empty road stretched ahead. His empty heart beat as it had beat all his life.

If he hadn't been determined before, he was now. There was nothing else to live for.

So he kept driving.

The empty road stretched ahead, mocking him with its purpose.

By the time he reached Colorado Springs, the throbbing ache had melted to alloy. Face grim, hair wild, eyes empty, he'd exited the car and walked across the vibrant green grass under the bright, warm sun, so clear in the crisp mountain air, and felt none of it.

There was no more guesswork. The path was clear. He angled across the expansive lawn. The small, whitewashed shed at the edge of the causeway could have held anything. The two armed guards stationed at its door gave it away.

Brodham walked straight up to them and shot them both in the chest when they asked for identification. He holstered his Beretta and picked a black M4 out of a set of still-twitching fingers. If he couldn't find Petar, he would at least kill Samil.

He walked into the shed and down the stairs that began right inside the door. At the bottom of the flight, Jeremy Parson was crawling through another door. Petar was shouting at the boy, urging him to go outside. Jeremy's shirt was crusted with black. Petar's hands were crimson.

At Brodham's approach, Petar whirled. His eyes were equal parts defiant and hopeless. He raised his palm at Brodham.

"I want to help," Brodham said simply, pointing the assault rifle at the ceiling. He was still a few steps from the bottom.

Petar's eyes narrowed. His palm still pointed at Brodham.

"Kill me if you want. Go ahead." He waited. Petar didn't move. A gutteral growl sounded through the doorway at the bottom of the stairs, followed by a human scream. Brodham paled slightly.

"I don't know what's happening in there," Brodham said, "but it sounds like you don't have a lot of time. Let me help you."

A bullet ricocheted off the doorframe behind Petar. It seemed to make up his mind for him.

"Okay," he said tersely. "Grab Jem's arm." Brodham leaped the last four stairs and Petar leaned down to Jeremy. Jem, Brodham corrected himself. "Have it your way, you son of a bitch," Petar was saying. "We're doing it."

Brodham was struck by how affectionate Petar sounded. He bent and helped Petar pull Jem to his feet. The boy draped between them. Brodham looked Petar in the eye.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Now we turn left and try not to get shot, eviscerated, or electrocuted. There's another door in a dozen feet. That's where we're going."

Brodham gripped Jem with his left hand, tightened his grip on the M4 with his right, and nodded. Judging by the sounds coming through the door, this was suicide. Just what he was looking for.

"Okay," Petar said. "One, two, now!"

Lifting Jem completely off his feet, they burst through the doorway and rounded toward the second door.

It was like sprinting into hell. The massive room was scattered with toppled equipment both large and small. Men in camo fatigues were running, standing, crouching, shouting, shooting, and dying everywhere. A grenade exploded with an earsplitting bang, sending a shower of tools spraying into the air.

And in the middle of it all, crackling with energy, was a creature Brodham wouldn't have dreamed up in his worst nightmares. It leaped across the room almost too quickly too see, a mess of tentacles trailing behind it. It sprang over a stack of boxes and crushed a soldier under it, then spun and sprinted toward another man kneeling and firing at it on full auto. One of the tentacles whipped over its head and penetrated the man with a bloody mist and then it took off running, the man still whipping through the air over its back on the end of the waving appendage.

Brodham took it all in in the space of seconds, and then they were at the door and Petar was swinging it open and they were through.

The door clicked shut behind them.

Darkness collapsed over them.

In the sudden stillness, Brodham could feel Jem breathing heavily against him. He was breathing heavily himself, his chest rising and falling in short, rapid movements.

Petar turned to the side and Jem and Brodham staggered along with him as if they were a single, awkward, six-legged beast. Petar's free hand slid along the wall, found a light switch, and they were all bathed in cool white light.

Not many things had the power to take Brodham's breath away, but this room was nothing short of incredible.

Thanks for reading my story! Please VOTE and let me know what you think of it so far, then check out Chapter 49!