Midnight Sun, Basil Sands [ebook reader online free .txt] 📗

the death that waited for them.

Shehit the ground floor and burst through the exit onto the sidewalk, roundingthecornerofthebuilding in three quick strides.She stopped to get her bearings and find her husband’s face in the crowd. As she scanned the sea of faces Farrahemergedinto her vision, instantrecognitionflashingbetweenthem.AnearbypoliceofficermotionedforFarrahto keep moving withtherestofthecrowd.Farrahlooked into his face then with no warning choppedtheofficer'sthroatwiththebladeofhis. The stunned man grasped his throat with bothhands, hiseyes asroundassaucersashestruggledtobreath,ahigh-pitchedwheezesqueakedthroughhis crushedtrachea.Farrah snatched the man’s pistol from its holster.

“Farrah!” Marcus shouted, bursting from the panicking cluster of people around the dying police man.

Farrahtooka step, pivoted andgrabbedLonnieby her hair forcing her to act as a human shield.He yanked her back with himtothesideofthebuildingperpendiculartothepark,outoftherooftop sniper team'sview.Hepressedthemuzzleoftheguntoherdistendedbelly.Lonniedidnotscream.Sheforcedherselftoremaincalm.Mikeappeareda few yards from Marcus,gunraised. Adozenpoliceofficersformedasemi-circlearound themasaparamedicteamdraggedtheinjuredofficeraway,thedesperatesoundofhisgaspsforlifefillingthetemporarysilence.

“Iwillkillherbaby!” Farrah’s voice came out harsh, hints of his rough Manchester accent percolating up as the façade of being a British gentleman completely vanished.

“Giveitup,Farrah,” Hildecalledout. “Thereisnowaytoescape,butyoudon'thavetotakemoreinnocentlives.”

“Innocent?” Farrahsaid. “Whatdoyouknowaboutinnocent?Myparentswereinnocentwhenyoursoldierskilledthem.NoAmericansareinnocent.Youalldeservetodieforwhatyoudotosmallcountriesallovertheworldjusttobuyyourpreciousdesignerclothesandfeedyourfatasses.”

“Putthegundown,” Marcus growled.

“Don'tkillthewoman,Farrah,” Mike said. “Youwillhaveherbaby’s deathonyourconscience.Allahdoesnotforgivethosewho murdertheinnocent.Youwillnotbeshaheed—you willbeacommonmurderer.”

Farrahtwistedhisfaceinmentalagony.Hewasnotamurderer.Voicesspokeinhishead,Englishvoices,tellinghimtogiveup.Hewasofadifferentclassfromthoseanimalsinal-Qaeda,fromthosebeastsinHamaswhokillschoolchildrentomakeastatement.Hewascivilized,hewasanEnglishman—not aterrorist,butafootballer.

“No!” hegruntedthroughtremblinglips.HewasthehandofMuslim vengeanceagainstthesewhocalledthemselvescivilizedbuttrampledeveryoneintheirway.Hehadworkedsohard,comesofartogettheultimaterevenge,onlytowatch as everythingfellapartinfrontofhiseyes.HepressedthegunhardintoLonnie'sbellyandcockedbackthehammer.Sheletoutascream.

“Please,no!Notmybaby.Please,notmybaby!”

“Shutup!” Hisvoicecrackedwithconfusion and distress. “Justshutup!”

Farrahyanked herhair,twistingherbodysothatitcompletelycoveredhisown.Marcustightenedhisstance,waitingforanopening.Mikedidthesame.Farrahkeptmoving,shaky,leaving themnogoodshot.

Radios crackled with the voices of snipers declaring they had no shot, couldn’t get repositioned quick enough.  Each heartbeatlasted aneternity. Marcus watched the sight post at the end of his pistol wave in tight sideways figure eight. Farrah’s eyessqueezedshutthenslowlyopened, pupils so wide the brownof his irises had nearly vanished. He scanned the crowed with the manic snap of a cornered animal, confusion and terror equally balanced with tightly wound violence. He blinked a second time then his eyes stretched even larger until they seemed as if they’d pop out of their sockets.

***

Farrah’s body and all but a portion of his eye and forehead were tucked behind Lonnie.The smell of her shampoo filled his sinus, sweet and pretty. He had a sudden memory of a young woman he had once dated. Her father had forbade him from seeing the girl after learning he was a Muslim. A deep sadness crept up his throat, tightening around his Adam’s Apple like the grip of the reaper, threatening to choke off his life.

His gaze swept over the park. Columns of thick black smoke continued to rise from beneath the lawn and through a manhole that had its cover blown off during the explosion. He watched a Paramedic kneel to a screaming child half way across the park. A woman held a teen boy’s head to her chest, his arms hanging at his sides, body limp. Part of him wanted to stop the madness, to lay down the gun and surrender, to take it all back and wish away this evil he’d wrought. But then, superimposed of the destruction before him, he saw the image of his parents flaming death which in spite of not having actually seen it was nonetheless burned into his imagination as if it were a memory.

A brown skinned man with a pistol was shouting something at him that he could not understand. A white man in civilian clothes said something as well, a word he recognized – Shaheed.

Yes, I am shaheed I will be a martyr now.

His finger tightened around the trigger, the muscles in his forearm tensing. Squeezing the trigger seemed harder than it should have, the simple mechanical parts resisting too much. He felt it start to give just as he saw a bright flash of light explode in the distance behind the rows of police and soldiers. A small gold-colored metal object grew in size like an approaching sun. He registered the oncoming bullet for what it was a fraction of a second before it hit his skull. The tiny oblong metal ball hit him, a force like a ten-ton hammer slamming his forehead. He never heard the sound of the shot before his brain ceased to know anything.

***

Mike flinched asthebackofFarrah'sskulldisintegrated,acloudofpinkeruptingbehindhim.Eyeswide,mouthdroppingopeninshock,StevenFarrahfellstraightbackontothestreet,stillgraspingLonnie.Someone in the crowd let out a high pitched scream.

Marcusrushedtohis wife,pullingheroffFarrah’s twitchingbody.Shereleasedthetightholdshe’d had onherbreathandstartedpanting,quicklydissolvingintosobs.Shesuckedinadeepbreath,and hereyesdartedtowardthepark.

“Kharzai,” she raised her armpointingweakly to the crowd. “He'sgettingaway. Go.”

Marcusfollowedthe direction of her fingerandcaughtafleetingimageofKharzai'scurlsfloppingabovethecrowdashejogged nonchalantly across the park.Marcusjumpedupandsprintedtowardhim,Mikecloseonhisheels. They caughtafullviewofhimjustashehoppedintoFarrah'sAudiparkedbesidetheroadnearly ablockaway, an excited dog jumped in to the car behind him and settled on the passenger seat tail wagging.Marcus’struckwaited in a parkside slotparkednearby.They rushed to it andclimbedin.Marcusstartedtheengine, glancing up and seeing Kharzaislipcalmlyonto10thAvenuemovingawayfromthescene.An officer at a police check point stopped him and an officer leaned toward the window. Whatever Kharzai said, the officer bought it and signaled for the barricade to be moved. The Audi slipped through and Kharzaispedup10thtoGambellRoadandturnedleft.

Marcusfollowedparallelon9thAvenue. A National Guard soldier signaled them to stop. Marcus slowed and rolled down his windows. Mike leaned across the seat flashing his FBI credentials toward the soldier.

“Open the barrier! We’re in pursuit of a suspect,” Mike shouted.

“I’m sorry sir, but…”

Mike exploded with the command voice of a Marine officer, “Open the gate sergeant! Right now!”

The sergeant reacted, more out of instinct to the sound of command than to the logic of the order. The whole squad instantly snapped to and opened the barrier allowing Marcus’s truck through.

Marcus jammed the accelerator to the floor and rocketed through two blocks, pressing their bodies hard into the seats as the 5.4 liter V8 pounded into turbo.Kharzaicrossedan intersection in front of them.As he camearoundthecorner,thePersiansawMarcus,recognition sparkedinhiseyes. Theglimmerofhistrademarktoothygrinstretchedwide,baring hiswhiteteeth.Heflooredtheaccelerator.Thehigh-performancesedanshotofflikeabullet.Marcusflooredhistruck'sgaspedaltoo,butF250wasdesigned with towing power in mind, notzero-to-sixtyperformanceliketheAudi.

ThesmallercarquicklystretchedthespacebetweenthemasKharzai rocketeddowntheGlennHighwaytowardEagleRiver.Marcusfollowedasfastashistruckwouldtakehim.His enginewaspowerfultruckandcapableofhighspeeds,but the massive beasttooktimetogetthere.BythetimeMarcusreachedeightymilesperhour,theAudiwasawhitespeckmore than amileahead.Marcuskeptthe pedal to the floor until the speedometer peaked at 110mph.TheAudiboundedoutofsightaround alongbendinthehighway.

“Wherearethecops?” Mike asked.

“Probablyallbusybackatthepark,” Marcussaid.

MarcuswassurprisedwhenheroundedabendandsawtheAudistill within sight. He knew thecarwascapableofnearly200mph,yet he remained in sight asifKharzaiwantedthechasetocontinue,wantedMarcustocatchup.

More than a mile aheadtheAudi veered onto the ramp thatturnedrightontotheArcticValleyRoadexit. Marcus followedandturnedjustintimetoseethewhitecaracceleratepasttheMooseRunMilitaryGolfCourse,thenturnontoSkiBowlRoad.

“What’s hedoing?” Marcussquinted as he watched Kharzai disappear around a bend in the road.

“What’sbackhere?” Mikeasked.

“Nothing,” Marcus replied. “Justaskilodgethat’sclosedforthesummer.Beyondthat,there’samilitaryradarsitemannedbyaboutahundredarmedandhighlysecurity-conscioussoldierswhodon’tplaynicewithpeoplewhoshowupuninvited.Thereisnoexitfromthisarea other than the trails of the Chugach National Forest, which can only be taken on foot.”

TheChugachNationalForest consists ofthousandsofsquaremilesoftrees,mountains,andlakes.Marcuswasconfused.Unless Kharzai had a helicopter waiting to whisk him away to some safe haven, there was nothing back here but bear infested wilderness.

Ahead,theAudiacceleratedcontinuouslyupthemountainroad,veeringinandoutofsightseveralhundredyardsahead, Kharzaiwhipping violently intohairpinturns likeaFormula One racer.Marcusturnedablindbendonasteepstretchofroadandhisbreathcaughtinhischest.Hebrakedhard,skidded along the dirt and gravelandbarelyavoidingtheAudiwhichsatstillinthemiddleoftheroad.Once he got the truck under control Marcuspulledasclosetothesoftshoulderashedared.Mikegotout,Marcusrightafter,bothwithgunsdrawn,eyesscanningthe car and the nearbybrush. The Audi’sdriver'ssidedoorhungopen,keysontheseat.Aheadofthecar,crushedandtrampledfoliagesignaledKharzai'sentrypointasplainasasignpost.Marcusmoved,pistolup,pointingintothespacebetweenthicketsofalder.Mikecoveredhim,watchingforshadowsofmovement,listening.Itwastooeasy. Kharzaihadleftcleartracksintheunderbrush.

“Itfeelslikehe’sbaitingus,”Mikehissed.

Marcusnodded.Theyheardthesound of the Persiancrashingthrough twisted tanglesof willow, alder,devil'sclub,andferns.Inthedistance,ShipCreekroaredinadeepvalley,echoingthepower of millions of gallons of fast moving water poundingagainstthehardrockwallsofthemountainousterrain.Theyfollowedthetrailforacouplehundredyards, then Marcusstoppedinhistracks.Mikedroppedtooneknee,weaponraised,thencrouch-walkedtotheright,coveringMarcus’sflank,gettingadifferentangleonthetarget.

Kharzaistoodthirtyyardsaheadinawidemeadowofwaist-highwildflowers,facingthem,awideexpansebehindhim,thedarknessofthespruceforestbeyondthat.Heshowednoweapons,juststoodamongthewhitecowparsnip,yellowtrollius,purplegeranium,redcolumbine,andpinkwildroses, waiting.Marcusclosedtowithin twenty yards. At that distance, he saw the dog standing next to Kharzai,