Evil Like Me Page 29

  “No. Others will learn and more innocent people will die.”

  “I bring a civilized solution to uncivilized, international conflicts.”

  “No. You will destroy the human race. Psychokinesis is too dangerous to exist. Those who control it will abuse it.”

  “You could have been a part of the vision, but you ran from me. You hid from the world. Why did you climb out of your hole now? Is it the carnage? Is it a feeling? You could not control the urge to kill me. You know the rage unleashes the monster within. You must control your kill instinct. If you kill me, you will kill others. It’s the way it works. You can’t turn it off once you turn it on. You are here tonight because you can’t stop—you are evil like me!”

  He said nothing because Cankor spoke the truth. Keller hid from the world because the evil inside would consume him. He could not let it happen.

  “There was once a time we needed you,” Swenson said. “Now, we need you gone.”

  Cankor’s and Swenson’s eyes fell on Keller and their pupils contracted. Their combined psychokinetic strength penetrated his blocking shield. Keller began to tremble. His face paled. A single drop of blood rolled from his nose. He collapsed onto the sandy mound as they sunk the psychic-dagger into his spine. His heart pounded and body went rigid. The soft moon exploded into a blinding sun, and the gray mist floating above the fields burst into white fire. A thousand needles pierced Keller’s brain as air left his lungs and his throat collapsed.

  Forty-One

  Like lethal toxins of the Box Jellyfish, Cankor’s psychic venom penetrated Keller’s amygdala and triggered primal fears. His adrenaline burst into his veins. His memory clouded as crippling spasms spread through his body. Anxiety mounted. Blood pressure climbed. Keller ran for his life in his mind causing the hyperventilation that starved his brain of precious oxygen. In seconds he drifted into shock.

  Cankor knew well the stages of the psychic-kill. Keller’s body would shut down like helpless prey in the jaws of a beast. The fear and pain would be catastrophic. The body’s defense mechanisms would take over. Keller would revel in a euphoric peace. In seconds his spastic heart beats would stop. Like the others his amygdala would trick his body into suicide.

  Keller tumbled in the tunnel—the one traveled at birth and in death. Inside the swirling portal of existence between worlds, all things that once mattered evaporate. He forgot about the remote viewers killed. He forgot about his self-imposed mission and his dead parents and dead friends. He forgot about clandestine, government research out of control and the threat to the world. Keller forgot the years of horrific crimes against the innocent. He was no longer on Mud Island with Cankor and Swenson. In the tunnel, real monsters mean nothing.

  Swenson broke away blinking back into the present—Keller was helpless now. “I’ll give you the honors.”

  Cankor would savor the final moments with his nemesis—it was part of the gift, the part that Keller feared most and ran from all his life.

  Swenson walked to the hostages and kicked each one—they were his now. None reacted to his boot. They were worn from abuse, all hope gone. A few feet away Petty and Wilcox lay silent and Keller squirmed like an earthworm caught on a sidewalk in the hot sun.

  “You seem depressed,” Swenson said as he poked Abby Patterson. “Not having a good day?” He ran his hand up her leg, something he could never do with an unbound lady. She recoiled, pulling knees to her chest and turning her covered head away.

  “Maybe if you were nice to me you’d have options.” He stroked her leg again. But this time her feet shot out crushing his face. The mangled wire glasses, bloody nose, and three-piece suit tumbled backwards into the tall grass like a garbage bag caught in a stiff wind.

  He returned and kicked Patterson one last time. He ordered, “Kill these people, now.” Three guns pressed against three heads as Swenson turned to the glow of the city less than a mile away. “Best use silencers.”

  Velcro pouches ripped open in unison.

  I’ve earned this, Swenson mused. He took in the crisp night air and sweet smell of victory. Since Stargate I out-maneuvered them all—Proust and Baldwin. I knew Cankor had the will and the ability. He would be the one to confuse the architects of the government’s secret project. Now, twenty-one remote viewers are dead and their lineage nullified. Keller is the last obstacle. After tonight only Cankor and I will possess the telekinetic knowledge and power to kill. We will decide who gets our services. We will define the next millennium. I will get the respect I deserve. And for now, I’m okay with the number two position.

  While in captivity the hostages listened to Swenson’s and Cankor’s ongoing conversations about Hunter Keller and his astounding psychic gifts. The two openly discussed their twisted plans to corner Keller so his gifts could not be used to turn the tables on Mud Island. Now—the hostages lying in the sand bound and hooded—it was clear Hunter Keller was not the most gifted one. If he had been, he would have foreseen the events on Mud Island. Keller would have protected Detective Wilcox and Dr. Petty. He would have foiled Major Cankor’s sinister plans.

  The three gunmen screwed silencers onto their muzzles. Swenson stared at the glow of downtown Memphis waiting for the muffled pops and the rush. But another feeling came. It was like a soft gust of cold air in his face. Swenson’s hair lifted. His smile faded. His gaze moved from the glittering skyline to the soft, pale scrub. When he opened his mouth, it was too late. The high pitched whistle crossed the island in a fraction of a second. Cankor broke from Keller and watched Swenson’s eye explode and body drop face down, the back of his head gone.

  “Shoot the hostages,” Cankor ordered as got up and dragged Keller behind a tree. “Shoot all of them. We will prevail.”

  More hollow-points whistled across the southern field, and more chunks of brain and shattered skull flew into the cool night air. In seconds three more empty bodies holding guns with silencers sat down in the scrub. One by one they flopped over and disappeared in the grass.

  Cankor’s four remaining soldiers moved up the bank into tall grass returning fire. But they had no targets. After the flurry of shots they stopped to reload. The island was quiet, the cloud of burned gunpowder thick. Then four more whistles cut through the grass and four more heads exploded. Their lifeless bodies fell over like rotted trees in a soft wind.

  Cankor dragged Keller toward the boat. How did this happen? His distraction left him vulnerable. Now he would complete his mission and escape. When Cankor reached for the rope, white light flooded the bank. Like a UFO hovering above the river fifty yards out, the intense beams widened, and spinning blues and reds emerged, and the grumbling hum of diesels swallowed the river sounds.

  Someone’s blocking this, Cankor thought. Keller’s unable to block. Who am I missing? He watched shadows approach the clearing—he knew they had orders not to engage. Grabbing Keller’s ankle, Cankor dragged the ragdoll body up the bank into the north field.

  “Major Cankor.” The words echoed from a bullhorn on the water. “This is the Memphis police. Do not attempt to leave Mud Island. You are surrounded.” The words rolled down the river as boats nosed onto the shoreline and lights climbed the bank. But Cankor pushed into the grass dragging Keller behind.

  Only two on Mud Island knew the national security risk. The intimate details of the top secret U.S. psychic-weaponry program could not be shared, not even with the commanders of the MPD elite force or director. However, U.S. counter insurgency forces were briefed—the mission was to recover two rogue members of a classified government program. Orders were explicit. Take Major Cankor and Hunter Keller alive. Under no circumstances allow Keller to leave Mud Island.

  Clutching Keller’s boney ankle, Cankor marched toward the land bridge off Mud Island. It was not covered—an inexcusable, tactical error. He and Keller would disappear in the north woods of Shelby County. They would escape because Cankor was focused. He knew their every move well in advance.

  Forty-Two

  “All we
know is still infinitely less than all that remains unknown.”

  William Harvey

  *

  Disoriented, she stayed low squinting into the white light. Twenty feet away she saw lumps on the sand. Pushing up, her hand touched something—Wilcox, his chest covered with blood. Petty crawled to his side and felt for a pulse. It was strong. Under moving shadows, she slapped his face hard. “Wake up.”

  “Damn Petty.”

  Inches from his face she whispered, “Hold it down.”

  “What’d you hit me for?” Wilcox whispered back.

  She ripped his shirt open and wiped his wound. “You’re not bleeding now.” She applied pressure and looked around. “You’ve been shot again. Do you remember anything?”

  “Am I gonna die?”

  “Yes.”

  “Shit! Then there’s somethin’ I gotta say.” He struggled to sit up.

  Petty held him down and climbed back in his face. “Save it. You’ve got another forty years if we get out of this.”

  “I just got shot in the chest. Show a little compassion. I know I can be a hard ass, but …”

  “Actually it’s the shoulder, and whisper. We don’t know who’s in control of this island. You’ve been shot twice in two days by people you piss-off. You’re running out of luck. This bullet found a muscle too—no major arteries, nerves, or bones. The impact must have knocked you out, or you’re a sissy.”

  “You’re so nice to me when I’m weak. It hurt like hell.” He lifted his head and squinted. “Where are Cankor, Swenson, all their people? And where are the hostages?”

  “I think Patterson, Baily, and Cottam are over there—those lumps on the sand. They’re moving. I do not see Cankor. Swenson’s over there, by the hostages.”

  “I need to find my gun and shoot that Swenson twit.”

  “That’s not necessary. Swenson’s dead, missing the back of his head.”

  “Sniper fire?” Wilcox pushed Petty’s hand off his chest and sat up. “Is our backup here? Hence, light everywhere. The moving shadows on the bank gotta be the good guys.”

  “You think?” Petty teased.

  “You better hope, or we are both dead.” Wilcox started to stand.

  “Be careful moving around, you’re still injured. You don’t want to start bleeding again.”

  “I don’t see Cankor’s henchmen anywhere, or Keller. He was supposed to stay over there.” They both saw the trampled path in the tall grass. It crossed over Keller’s hiding place.

  “Does Cankor have him?” Petty asked. “And why would they let Cankor get away?”

  “They’re not gonna shoot Cankor or Keller—they’re government assets.”

  Wilcox looked around and found three shadows standing in the scrub at the south edge of the sandy clearing, each in camo holding a high-powered rifle with scope. “I’m Wilcox. This is Petty. Are you boys with us?”

  Three thumbs went up. Wilcox turned back with a smile, but Petty was gone. Then he heard Baily in the distance. “We’ve been kept in the dark forever.”

  Wilcox approached the hostages as Baily rambled on to Petty. “Thought it was all over when we heard the shot and Wilcox stopped talking. Cop killers have no limits.”

  “He’s okay,” Petty said as she untied Baily looking back for Wilcox. “Where’d you go?”

  Wilcox lifted Abby kicking. “Whoa now. It’s me, Tee.” She stopped. He cut her ropes and pulled off her hood and gag. She pulled him close and kissed him hard.

  Petty and Baily watched. “Guess she’s appreciative,” Baily muttered. Petty rolled her eyes and slid over to Cottam who was not moving.

  “You took your sweet-ass time, Tee,” Abby said.

  Wilcox untied her ankles. “Sorry to get you into this mess—didn’t see this coming. And it’s not over yet, so keep low. The guys with rifles are on our side.”

  Baily wobbled to his feet, Petty helped Cottam stand, and Abby and Wilcox got up. The five stood in a line on the sandy mound. They watched the lights combing the north field. Less than fifty yards out they saw someone moving toward the land bridge.

  “Cankor’s getting away,” Wilcox said.

  Behind them, the sniper rifles were down. To their left the MPD elite force jumped off boats and swarmed the bank like army ants. They too stopped and lowered their weapons at the edge of the clearing. A tall man in dark fatigues climbed the bank with a hand on his holstered gun. “Detective Wilcox, I am lead commander of this operation. Call me Derby. We have covered all fronts except the land bridge.”

  “Well the land bridge is a problem, Derby. This guy’s a psychic. He knows it’s open. It is how he will escape. That’s him out there. We gotta get people to that tree line ASAP.”

  “Limitations are never acceptable. When we arrived, we had no intelligence on the location of targets. At this time the northeast flank is populated from the southern flank. Unfortunately, targets have a window.”

  “Well that’s just great.”

  “It’s a lot of ground to cover in a short time,” Petty said.

  “Then let’s shoot the bastard now,” Wilcox boomed. “Someone give me a rifle.”

  “We have orders. They are to be taken alive.”

  “Well, that’s not gonna happen, Derby. Did they tell you what we’re dealing with?”

  Baily blurted out, “Whoa! Look at that.”

  “What in the hell … ?” A line of shadows emerged from the woods northeast of the land bridge a hundred yards out. “Are those your men, Derby?” Wilcox asked. “Looks like a battalion.”

  “Someone put a scope on that,” Derby ordered. Sniper rifles went up in unison.

  “Sir. Deer. A lot of them. No sir. Correction. Elk, sir. Big ones.”

  “Bald Knob again?” Wilcox said under his breath as they all watched the enormous herd move from the woods onto the land bridge.

  “What’s Bald Knob?” Derby asked.

  “It’s hard to explain. Let’s just say I’ve seen a lot of bull elk before.”

  “Major Cankor had something in his left hand,” Petty said. “I saw him drop it. Now he’s waving both arms at those animals.”

  They all watched. “He had Mr. Keller,” Derby said. “He dragged him from this location.”

  “Keller’s alive?” Wilcox asked.

  “I doubt it, sir. He was not moving.”

  “He could be alive. He could be unconscious,” Petty said.

  “Who’s running this operation Detective Wilcox, you or Derby?” Cottam asked.

  “You won’t be able to stop this.” The words came from behind the snipers. Heads turned. “I suggest we keep guns down and watch. We’re out of this now.”

  Flanked by Secret Service agents, the man in the three-piece suit and blood stained shoulder bandage walked up like he owned Mud Island.

  “You’re late,” Wilcox said. “And still couldn’t find a clean change of clothes.”

  “Sorry, detective. You gave me a lot to do, and little time to do it.”

  “You screwed up leaving the land bridge open.”

  “Who are you?” Cottam interrupted.

  Wilcox made the introductions. “This is U.S. Attorney General Alfred Baldwin. He was supposed to be here at ten—that was our deal.” Wilcox leaned into Baldwin’s face. “Your delay got Petty’s brain fried, me shot—I could have died—and Cankor’s got Keller in God-knows-what condition. Not good, Baldwin. This is typical government incompetence. We talked about this at the Brent Mansion. You are goddamn late.”

  They watched the herd close around Cankor.

  “I am sorry, detective. But not everything goes according to plan. Securing and deploying needed resources on short notice proved enormously challenging, even for me.” Baldwin winced and rubbed his chest eyeing Cankor in the field. “We’re here now.”

  “Damn bullets hurt even when you’re wearing a vest,” Wilcox grumbled.

  “So true. And the one that missed clipped my shoulder and made a bloody mess. Knocked me down, too.” />
  “And sold your assassination on camera,” Wilcox said. “I still gotta give you credit. I don’t know if I could have stood on that podium knowing I had to take a bullet or two.”

  “What we do for our country,” Baldwin said under his breath.

  “I’ve missed a lot,” Cottam said as they watched the herd grow and close on Cankor.

  “You were tied, gagged, and hooded the last twenty-four hours,” Baldwin said. “I am sorry sir. I was assassinated at your Loraine Hotel today. I was there picking up a humanitarian award. My people knew there would be an assassination attempt. I had to allow it.”

  “That makes perfect sense. Sorry I missed it,” Cottam chided.

  “There’s gotta be a hundred out there now, sir,” said one sniper.

  Baldwin was unimpressed with the animals. He saw it before. “Director Cottam, your abductors—Dr. Swenson and Major Cankor—had to believe I was dead.”

  “And why is that?” Cottam asked.

  “Because I too am a remote viewer.”

  “A remote what?”

  “It’s a long story. Let’s just say a psychic with unique capabilities.”

  “I see. And I assume Mr. Keller is one too,” Cottam said.

  They stared at the lights flooding the north field of Mud Island. “Mr. Keller is something very different,” Baldwin said. “Let me be very clear. The United States Government cannot allow either to leave Mud Island. The national security risks are too great. We must contain.”

  “I do not see Keller. Are we sure Cankor had him?” Wilcox asked.

  “He is lying somewhere in the field. The herd forced Cankor to release him.”

  “Those animals are a problem for Cankor,” Wilcox said.

  “That massive herd can’t be good for Hunter either,” Petty said.

  “Both are going to be trampled,” Cottam said. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  “Actually I’ve seen it two times before—Bald Knob and Sikeston,” Wilcox said.