Firestarter Read online

  "The big thing is," Terri told her, " these people are always angry, and they're always looking for an excuse, a victim to victimize. So we're hoping they start getting violent without our help once we've primed the pump."

  "Why?"

  "So they get arrested, and we get some nice news articles," Steve said with a grin. "John Q. Public is not going to take very well to seeing a bunch of stupid college kids assaulting innocent people who are minding their own business."

  "Assuming they take our side."

  "Oh, they will," Steve said with a glint in his eye. "Because I have a cunning and brilliant plan."

  "You know that never worked, right?"

  "Actually, it worked once, and in this case, once will be all we'll need."

  #

  Karl sat in the car while Otto and Raban carefully approached the old abandoned bunker. They'd spent several days checking every abandoned building Karl remembered, as well as a few he didn't, but which there were records on back at the office. Otto had been the one to remember the old bunker. Karl had forgotten about it as well. It was far out from any of the towns or villages, now well hidden by a couple of copses of trees that had grown up around it.

  When Karl was a child, there had been dozens of them scattered all over the countryside, though mainly in or around the towns. Removing them was a major undertaking; they'd been built to withstand bombs during the war, after all. So this one, out in the country, wasn't worth the money to demolish, and had instead been left out here to rot.

  Kids still came out here, either on dares, or to get drunk or stoned. But few officers bothered coming here because it was so far out of town.

  Karl looked down at the AK-47 sitting in his lap, loaded, with the safety off. Both Otto and that Raban fellow were armed with them, as well. It was illegal, of course, and the guns were probably black market, but over the last few days, Karl was gaining a newfound respect for the phrase 'keep your mouth shut'.

  With the removal of most of the people from town, the demons had gone on to attack the neighboring village last night. Hannah had been ordered over there early this morning to take control of things. She'd told Karl she doubted she'd be back, and the investigation into the deaths here had all been ordered closed.

  It was the first time he'd seen her look truly worried. The order to close the cases had come from Berlin, and she'd admitted to him before she left that it was highly unusual.

  The sound of automatic gunfire woke him quite suddenly from his reverie. Starting the car, he put it in reverse and began to back up, quickly making a three-point turn as the gun shots continued, followed by a couple of small explosions.

  Looking in his mirror, he started to drive away slowly. Raban had been clear that he needed to run away, but Karl was still loath to leave them behind.

  Looking up from the mirror, he saw it. It was black as printer's ink, and wearing what he could only describe as tattered, rotting skins. It looked at him and screamed in a voice that reminded Karl of a hundred fingernails being dragged across a chalkboard. It then pointed at him and screamed again, a confused looking coming over its face.

  It looked even more confused when Karl, flooring the accelerator, hit it and ran it over. Then, jamming the car into reverse, he ran it over a second time for good luck.

  "Get out of here!" Otto said, diving into the back seat. Karl noticed he no longer had his rifle, and his clothing was torn.

  "What about your friend?"

  "Go!" Otto yelled.

  Karl floored it, the car bouncing over the old dirt road that led from the hidden ruins. He saw it then, a lion running flat out, with several black shapes giving chase.

  Otto reached over the seat, grabbed the rifle, and fired bursts at the things chasing Raban, dropping several and causing the rest to slow. Easing back on the throttle, Karl moved his eyes between Raban, the things chasing him, and the road ahead.

  "In front of us!" Otto yelled as several more of those disturbing looking things popped up.

  The windshield suddenly exploded as Otto shot through it, dropping two of them as Karl ran over yet another one.

  He heard more shattering glass then, and looking back, he saw that Raban had jumped through the window—or tried to, at least. He'd shifted back to his human form and was half inside, half outside. Otto had grabbed him and was trying to pull him into the back of the car.

  Karl floored it again, and this time he didn't slow down for anything or look anywhere but straight ahead. When they hit the pavement, the car lurched around a bit, tires squealing, before they bit and the car rocketed off down the lane towards the highway.

  "You can slow down now!" Raban yelled.

  "What?" Karl yelled back. His ears were still ringing from the gunfire in the enclosed space, and the wind blowing through the ruined windshield at a hundred and forty kilometers per hour.

  "Slow Down!" Raban yelled again.

  "Is it safe?" Karl asked as he let the car slow to a more sedate pace of a hundred kilometers an hour.

  "I think so. We lost them, at any rate."

  "How many were there?"

  "At least thirty, possibly more," Otto said.

  "We could have gotten them all if we'd been better prepared," Raban grumbled.

  "There were too many of them for just the two of us," Otto retorted. "At least we killed half of them."

  Raban sighed. "I guess you're right. Still, the First isn't going to be pleased."

  "Who's that?" Karl asked.

  "The head lion," Otto told him. "And I guess Raban's charm worked."

  "Why's that?"

  "'Cause you're still here. That first one you ran over? He was trying to rip your soul out."

  Karl blinked and slammed on the brakes, hard.

  "What the hell?" Raban growled as he slammed into the back of the front seat.

  "I…I don't feel very well…" Karl said. Opening the door, he got out of the car, stumbled over to the side, and threw up. He could hear Raban and Otto talking back in the car.

  "You sure about what you saw?" Raban was quizzing Otto.

  "I think so. It pointed at him and was yelling something. Why? What was that charm?"

  "Protection against mind spells. We use them as protection from the magic users. Guess they work against devils, too."

  "Luckily for Karl."

  "You done out there?" Raban called out.

  Standing up straight, Karl got out a handkerchief and wiped his mouth, then slowly made his way back to the idling car. Getting in, he put on his seatbelt, closed the door, and started driving back to town again.

  "I'd throw both of your asses out of town if I thought it would make the slightest bit of difference." Karl sighed. "I want my old life back."

  Otto snorted. "You and me both."

  "I'm driving back to my house. I'll leave you the car; I don't care where you go."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "I hear Italy's nice this time of year,"

  "What about the rest of the townspeople?"

  "The hell with them," Karl said, frowning. "I warned them all to go. Any who are left, well, they're no longer my concern. In fact, I think I'll be quitting my job here once I'm far enough away they can't stop me."

  Otto looked over at Raban. "I just might join you."

  Napalm Love

  "It's been two days," Mary griped.

  "I hear you, M," Chester agreed.

  "So what do we do about it, C?" she asked him.

  "I was thinking we should call somebody."

  "We call anybody, and they'll just sit on it like de-lard-oh-butt has been," she grumbled.

  "Only if we call somebody in the agency," he pointed out.

  "But who else in Homeland would even be interested? This whole thing points to Nevada more and more, every day now!"

  Chester smiled. "What if we called the governor's office?"

  Mary laughed. "You know they'll try to fire us both for that!"

  "Admit to nothing!" Chester grinned
.

  "Blame everything!" Mary agreed with a smile of her own.

  "Shall we?"

  "Of course! Milk and Cheese are innocent!" she said, referring to their two 'unofficial' nicknames, adopted when they'd both discovered their mutual fondness for a certain comic strip some years ago after meeting up at work. Of course the people at work had all picked up on it, though they thought the 'Milk' name was due to her large chest, and Chester's 'Cheese' name had something to do with a certain advertising mascot.

  "Well, break out the gin; we got some phone calls to make."

  "Hello, this is Chester Boneillo with the FBI…"

  "Hi, this is Special Agent Mary Catalano from the FBI…"

  "Special Agent Boneillo here…"

  "What do you mean this isn't something you can deal with? Aren't you in charge…"

  "I appreciate your concerns, but yes I'm legitimate. Call the FBI's main office and ask to speak to me!" Chester sighed and slammed the phone down.

  "You know what? I want to speak to the governor! No, not his secretary, the man himself! I'm quite tired of you running me around. We're the ever-loving FBI! You may have heard of us? We had a TV show once? Oh good, yes, that's us! Now put me through, or I swear I'm gonna set the entire Reno office outside your home for the next month!"

  Mary turned to Chester. "I think I got a live one, pick up on the line over there and listen in."

  "Of course I'll hold," Mary said into the phone. "Just understand that if we have to waste time flying out there, I will personally make you regret it!"

  "Okay, okay already," Chester heard from the other side of the conversation as he put the phone to his ear. "You don't have to bite my head off!"

  "We're sorry," Chester said then, "but we've been trying to get through for over an hour now, and for some odd reason, no one wants to talk to us."

  "Okay, I'm putting you through to the governor's office."

  The line clicked, and then someone picked up."

  "Governor's office, how may I help you?" a woman's voice said.

  Mary sighed heavily, great, another roadblock.

  "This is special agent Chester Boneillo from the FBI, we've been tracking data on explosive sales, and we have reason to believe that a group of terrorists are targeting Reno."

  "One moment, let me put you through to the task force."

  "You have a task force?" Mary said surprised.

  "All that stuff on the news ain't a fairy tale," she said, and the phone clicked again.

  "Governor's taskforce on terror, Trooper Barrett speaking, how can I help you?"

  "Thank god! Finally!" Mary said. "This is Mary Catalano, Federal Bureau of Investigation, and we have reason to believe that someone is about to hit you with a very large truck bomb."

  "Oh? Based on what?"

  "Fertilizer sales. You got an email address? I can send you the report right now."

  "Sure," Trooper Barrett replied and gave it to her. It only took a moment to send him the presentation with all of the files.

  "Great! Got it…let's see…" There was a very lengthy pause.

  "Are you still there?" Mary asked after a minute.

  "You know what, give me your phone number. Catalano, you said? I need to show this to my boss. I don't think it's that guy up north."

  Several minutes later Mary hung up the phone and high-fived Chester.

  "Success!"

  "Now let's get out of here before they fire us!" Chester said with a grin.

  "Onward, to mayhem!" Mary agreed.

  #

  Geoffrey sat down at the far end of the bar away from everyone else. It was after nine, going on ten. He didn't have to be at the yard where they were fueling up the tanker and the other truck until midnight. He'd been a little annoyed at how long it took them to get all the fertilizer; apparently buying that much in one place would get the feds on your ass in a heartbeat these days. So some of Pastor Cross's 'friends' from the ALS had set up a buying operation, where they'd go from place to place and buy a few bags at each one. Yeah, it had taken them almost two weeks, but they got it all here, and nobody was the wiser.

  They'd had to steal a tanker truck full of diesel, but hand a driver enough cash, and more than a few of them were willing to look the other way.

  All he knew was, the waiting had been rough. It had burned at him, eating away at his courage. But he'd given his word, and he knew it was the right thing to do, because he'd made Pastor Cross so happy. So he figured a little bit of liquid courage wouldn't hurt him.

  It's not like he'd have to worry about falling off the wagon ever again, after tonight.

  "Geoffrey! What are you doing in here? I thought you quit drinking!"

  Turning to look, he saw Roy Baum, one of the ones who'd quit after they were let out of jail.

  "Traitor," Geoffrey grunted and turned back to the bartender. "Jack, straight up."

  "You got it," the bartender said and set up the drink as Roy came over and took the stool next to his.

  "Go away, Roy." Geoffrey sighed.

  "Can't, I work here," Roy said with a grin. "Got a job as a barback so I can cover the rent and food for me and Cindy. Seeing as we can't leave town until after the trial and all that."

  "Then maybe I should be going…" Geoffrey said and started to stand.

  Roy put his hand on Geoffrey's shoulder and pushed him back down.

  "No, stay a few. I'll even pay for your drink."

  "I don't really want to talk to you, Roy. You walked out and left us. You let your woman sway you against Cross."

  Roy smiled, and Geoffrey noticed it wasn't a friendly smile, either.

  "Oh, you don't have to do any talking, Geoff. I think I'll talk, and you can just listen. You're really good at that. I mean, you've been listening to Cross now for how long?

  "By the way, Cindy's expecting. I'm finally gonna be a dad!"

  Geoffrey frowned. "I thought you two couldn't have children?"

  Roy nodded. "That's right, we can't. Wonder how that happened, right? Well," Roy paused and gave a small laugh. "I don't wonder; I know after all. But I can bet you're wondering. You're probably thinking 'that old Roy is just a broken-down steer, he can't knock up his wife! So who did?"

  "I don't care if you and your slut wife are expecting." Geoffrey growled.

  Roy laughed again. "You know, time was I would have put you through a wall for saying that. But I've learned there are meaner things you can do to a man. And if ever there was a man who needed it done to him, it's you, Geoff. It's all you!

  "So, I hear your hot little daughter moved in with those animals up at that lion's compound?"

  "You little…"

  "Uh-uh! You're out on bail, Mr. Straight-and-Narrow! Throw one punch, and you'll be back in the slammer before the end of my shift. And I'm sure your good ole buddy 'Pastor Cross' wouldn't take kindly to hearing his number one man fell off the wagon and got into a bar fight, now would he?"

  Geoffrey slowly uncurled his fingers from the fist he'd formed and put his hand back down on the bar.

  "Drink your drink," Roy said nodding at it. "I'm not done yet. Know why your daughter moved up there?"

  Geoffrey glanced at him, picked up his drink, and tossed the whole thing off in a gulp, then started to stand.

  "Oh no, we're just getting started," Roy said and put his hand on Geoffrey's shoulder, pushing him back down.

  "Timmy! Another round for my friend here!"

  "Sure thing, Roy."

  "You can't keep me here," Geoffrey said in a low voice.

  "Seeing as the bouncers are friends of mine, too, I'd say you're wrong there. Now, answer the question: know why your daughter ended up there?"

  "Because they got their hands on her and corrupted her!" Geoffrey said angrily, glaring at Roy.

  "No. It's because you kicked her out on the street. Left her with nothing. Not a damn thing. Why would you do such a thing to your own daughter, Geoff? Why?"

  "None of your business!"

>   "Oh, no!" Roy said with a laugh. "It's completely my business! You're here, aren't you? Oh, god, man, you're so fucking thick you don't just need things spelled out for you, you need a fucking map!"

  Geoffrey turned to face Roy and snarled, "It's because she started saying bad things about our pastor! Okay? She came in there and said all sorts of nasty and evil things about him! They corrupted her! They took my little girl away and turned her into a fucking tramp! Just like her mother!"

  "There's two things wrong with that story, Geoff. The first is, any corrupting of your daughter started back at home in the good pastor's office. The second is, she wasn't telling you any lies."

  Geoffrey swore and took a swing at Roy, who slipped off his stool and dodged. He'd have thrown a second one, but someone grabbed him from behind, stopping him.

  "The good 'Pastor Cross' was sleeping with your daughter, Geoff!" Roy said softly. "He's also the one who knocked up my Cindy. Told her it was "God's will", and I couldn't give her the child she wanted, and we thought maybe it really was God's will.

  "Then I found out he was sleeping with your then seventeen-year-old daughter, and any man's wife he could get into his bed."

  "What! You're lying!"

  "Your daughter wanted your approval so much, she let the man you admired woo her, court her, take her to bed. She didn't know about the others, but Cindy did. So did I. I didn't say anything because I thought Pastor Cross really was doing God's work.

  "And then the son-of-a-bitch shot them all in the back so he could make good his own escape! You're a fool, Geoffrey! You're nothing but a God's damned fool! I can't blame you for following that glib-tongued devil, because he fooled me, too! But when the facts where laid at your feet, you still refused to see the truths the good Lord put right in front of your face!

  "I may not be a clever man, Geoff, but even I ain't that stupid! Now get the hell out of here, and I pray to the good Lord that I never see your face again!"

  Roy motioned to the man behind him, and Geoffrey finally felt the grip holding him back let go of him. Turning to the door, he stormed out, leaving the bar behind.

  "Friend of yours?" asked Jason, the bouncer, while Timmy looked on.