CHAPTER 10
James slowed down as he saw the sign for the Parkland Motel ahead. He spotted a small service road just behind the motel and pulled in there. Stopping the SUV, his team piled out. He looked at his team and eyed each member. "I seriously doubt that Grainman would go without a fight. The FBI is also on their way here. Intel says 4 Suburbans, 18 Agents and one Sheriff. The Sheriff may have also called in backup, so the enemy numbers may be substantially higher. Here's the plan: We snatch Charles, extract him, and fight out way out if necessary. The FBI will not be expecting a hard target, so we hit first, hit hard, and roll them over."
"What about that bullet-proof car?" Mac asked.
"Charlie will stay here. He and Cyber Division will infiltrate and gain control of the car. Once it's out of the equation, he can provide cover while we extract. Questions?"
There were none. "Get tactical!"
He made his way to the back and opened the trunk. It contained a few spare tools, tire rods, and some scattered papers. He reached down and pressed his thumb to a specific plate. The sensor recognized his thumbprint and opened the false floor. Under it was an assortment of weapons. James drew a Beretta 93R as well as a stubby silencer. The Raffica machine pistol was out of production, but the rapid-fire weapon and its 20-round magazine had always served James well. He threaded the silencer on then shrugged into a combat vest that contained multiple slots for extra clips, grenades and miscellaneous pouches. Turning on his Motorola radio, he checked the battery. Confirming it was working, he reached down and retrieved a M84 flash bang, a smoke, and one M67 fragmentation grenade. Finally, he picked out an M16/M203 grenade launcher.
Tom had outfitted himself similarly to James. Mac shrugged into the same Ballistic Load-Bearing vest. He reached in and grabbed a handful of solid-slug shotgun shells and threaded them into the holders on his vest. He repeated until the vest held the maximum number of shotgun shells. He extracted a Mossberg 500A pump action shotgun and slung it over his back. Sliding a few extra magazines into his ammo pouches, he fielded a P90 SMG.
Charlie had set up his laptop in the passenger seat. An active program scanned for the AI signature. The rest of James's team made a run for the motel.
A blue-coloured Ranchero sat in isolating in the parking lot of the motel. Tom placed a hand on top of the hood. He shook his head, signaling that the engine was cold. The car had been there for a while. James glanced into the motel room the car was parked in front of. The curtains were open. It was clearly empty and hadn't been used. Charles Graiman was in another room, except they had no clue as to which room he was currently occupying. The team followed James as he made his way to the main office.
James stepped in, leveling his weapon at the clerk manning the front desk. The young man was leaning back in a relaxed pose with a magazine in his hands, clearly ignoring anyone walking in and paying them no attention whatsoever. The fat silencer of James's gun rested on top of the man's magazine, then pressed down. The young man glanced up in annoyance. Slowly, his expression changed from disbelief to fear as he stared at the blackness of the long barrel. His eyes roamed over James, then Mac and Tom, who were guarding the entrance to the office.
"Uhhh, checking in?" he tried. The humour was lost on James.
James pressed the cold barrel of the silencer to the kid's head. "We're looking for a friend. Charles Graiman?"
Comprehension dawned on the young man's face as he realized that these men were not kidding around. "Ahhh, yeahhhh. He's here."
"Marvelous," James answered. "Which room please?"
The kid's eyes crossed in an attempt to stare at the barrel in the middle of his face. "Uhhh…it's tough to say," he replied truthfully.
James cocked back the hammer of his Beretta. "Easier now?"
The kid's eyes widened. He held up his hands in panic. "No, no. Ahhhh…what I mean to stay was he checked into 4 different rooms, so I'm not exactly sure which one he's actually in."
James flicked the barrel of his gun, motioning to the side. "Be a good sport and grab the keys."
The kid kept his hands up as he carefully slid off his seat. He moved to the side and collected 4 sets of keys.
"I've got a lock on the car. It's close!" Charlie said.
"Initiate the program," replied James. He reached over and grabbed the keys from the kid's trembling hands. "Thank you," he replied. His Beretta coughed, sending a 9mm hollow point into the kid's head. The kid jerked backward as the hollow point deformed and ravaged the tissues in his head before exiting the back of his skull in a massive spray of blood, brains and bone fragments. The kid was dead before the bullet finished exiting his head. His body fell raggedly onto his chair, spilling it and him unceremoniously to the floor of the office.
Casually, James gave the keys to his team while keeping one for himself. "Search the rooms. Go!"
Sarah and Mike pull up to the motel in KITT. "There's my mom's car."
Sarah glanced around. "There doesn't seem to be anybody else here."
"A thermal imaging scan of the motel is picking up three heat signatures moving amongst the buildings. They seem to be carrying an assortment of weapons. Recognition software identifies the weapons as military spec."
Sarah looked to the motel in horror. "They're already here! How is that…how did they beat us here? How did they find us?!!"
Mike hastily exited KITT and leaned back into the window. "Stay with KITT, and don't worry. I'll bring them back." He took out the confiscated Glock 21 and ratched the slide, chambering a round. Bringing the .45 calibre handgun up, he walked cautiously to a large tree and peered around it. Seeing no one, he proceeded at a job to the main office. Apprehensively, Sarah watched him go.
"Proceed to the office with caution."
Mike suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the unnecessary advice. He slowly approached the office. It was silent. Gluing himself to the left side of the doorway, he swept the office with his gun and discovered the grisly remains of the office clerk.
'Damn,' he thought, looking at the large blood splatter on the wall. The motel had just become an urban battleground. Urban combat was not among his more favorite battlegrounds in which to fight. The landscape was so irregular and unpredictable, with hidden nooks and crannies in which enemies could hide and ambush an unsuspecting person at will.
"I can guide you to Charles Graiman's room. Would you like to avoid confrontation?"
'Uh, like yeeeaahh…' he wanted to say. "Sure. Why not," he said instead.
However, in this situation, Mike had the ultimate advantage: an AI that had sensors to track each and every single heat source in the immediate vicinity. For him, the hiding spots in an urban center might as well have been glass, what with KITT being able to follow any person or thing with his array of sensors. Following KITT's instructions, Mike kept to the walls. His eyes scanned his surroundings, watching for the slightest hint of another person. Reaching the proper door, Mike gripped the knob and twisted. It opened inward.
Three loud explosions went off.
Already jumpy, Jennifer Traceur accidentally triggered her weapon.
BLAM!
Mike leaped back as splinters of wood showered his face. He spied his mom aiming what looked to be a humungous .44 magnum in her hand. The barrel smoked from a recently fired round.
He looked in shock at the hole in the door, then at his mom. "WHAT THE HELL?" Mike protested.
Jennifer Traceur covered her mouth in shock. She had purchased the large hand-cannon, but had never shot it. To her utter relief, the bullet had impacted two feet to the left and a foot up from her son's head. "Oh God baby, are you okay?"
"Yeah. Fine. Except for the fact that my own mother is shooting at me," he replied sarcastically.
"Three…two…one…now!" James hammered a powerful blow into door just below the lock. It was amazing how most people didn't know the ease at which normal house doors could be kicked in. The doorjamb splintered and flew apart. He let go of the flashbang's spoon and lobbed it into the room. Spinning around, he covered his eyes and ears. Three other grenades went off besides his. The M84 detonated in the middle of the room. Anyone looking at it would have strobes of unbearingly bright light rate at 80 million Candela. Their vision would have been blinded for several seconds. In addition, an explosion of concussion noise at 180 Decibels would have ruptured the eardrums of anyone in close range and disorientated those farther into the room. James burst into the room. He kept his profile low and swept his gun left to right, then back again. The room was empty. From the pristine bed covers and unused towels, this unit had not been used. He lowered his gun. This was the wrong room. That left three more to check. He pivoted and took a step towards the doorway.
BLAM!
The gunshot echoed through the motel complex. He immediately looked in that direction, but all he could see were more motel rooms. However, the shot had come from the farthest corner of the buildings. Bringing his gun up, he steadily made his way toward the disturbance.
"Thanks for the warning KITT," Mike bit out.
"I did not believe Ms. Traceur would shoot at you. Perhaps you have issues…?"
In spite of everything that was happening, from being hunted by an unknown military force, to his mother attempting to shoot him in the head, Mike gawked. Now he was sure of it. The AI was developing emotion because, had this been someone else, KITT's statement would have been ha-ha funny.
Charles Graiman walked up to Mike. He placed his hands on Mike's shoulders. "Where's Sarah?" The concern was clearly evident on his face.
"I left her around front," Mike said, spinning around. He remembered the explosions and glanced around outside. No one was visible. But they would have heard his mom's gun. He closed the door, then looked up at the big bullet hole in its center. That wouldn't fool anyone for long. "We need to get in KITT and get outta here now." Mike walked past them to the rear window of the room.
"I still can't believe you built another one," Jennifer whispered to Graiman. Mike overheard and stopped by the window.
"What do you mean another one?" he asked, puzzled as to what they were talking about.
Charles and his mom stood behind him. Charles seemed to be thinking something over. Coming to a decision, he turned to Jennifer, "He needs to know. He's still out there."
Mike felt the urgency of the situation. He knew that an unknown number of people were spread through the complex. But many battles had been lost because of poor intel. What Graiman had to say seemed very important. He weighed the pros and cons of letting him talk versus getting the hell out of Dodge. Deciding that it may pertain to their current situation, Mike faced them and asked, "What do I need to know?" The answer was interrupted by KITT.
"Mike. The three heat sources are approaching the rooms front entrance."
'Damn, wrong decision,' Mike thought. "We gotta move."
James came around the corner, his gun leading the way. He took precious seconds scanning the closed door. It took him a bit to see that one door seemed to be different. He glanced to his left and saw Tom and Mac moving across the parking lot towards the same door.
"How long until you're in?" he asked Charlie.
"We're already through the secondary firewall," Charlie answered over the radio.
"Good."
Mike opened the window, then quickly ducked his head out the window. When he didn't attract fire, he took another, more careful look. Seeing no one, he climbed out, then assisted his mom and Charles climb out after him.
"There was another KITT…" Charles continued. Mike spun around and held up a finger to his lips. He exaggerated the motion. His intentions were clear. 'Keep the hell QUIET!'
Mike eye'd Charles like a new boot camp newbie. This was a combat situation. In a motel area with buildings surrounding them. Voices and noises echoed off walls. If Charles kept blabbering, he would get them all killed! So he shut him up quick. Seeing Charles get the clue, he turned around, raised his gun, and continued along the buildings towards the Shelby. Charles and Jennifer were quick to follow him.
Mike gritted his teeth at the noise the two behind him were making. He was careful to watch where he stepped. Every footfall was sure. Every step measured and the weight of his footsteps watched. Even when he stepped on gravel, the rocks remained where they were and only ground minimally with his foot step. But Charles and his mom kicked what seemed like every rock in their path and dragged their heels – at least, that's what it seemed like to someone trained with combat skills.
"Pause to avoid visual contact."
James led his team to the door. He held back as Mac and Tom lined up by the doorjamb. His two guys had the more effective combat weapons so they would do the breach. Mac nodded his head: one, two, three! Mac dove in low and left, Tom hooked right and Tom brought up the center. All three swept their fields of fire…and found yet another empty room. But the rear window was open. Mac pounded over to the window, James and Tom hot on their heels. He stuck his head out and looked. Their quarry was no where to be seen.
KITT's thermal sensors showed the people burst into the room, then run for the rear window. "The passage is clear."
Mike burst into a run for the next row of motel rooms. Charles and Jennifer were hot on his heels.
James climbed out of the window and joined Mac and Tom. He signaled to Tom to go right, and then he and Mac ran to the left. They reached the end of the rooms just as Jeniffer Traceur vanished around a motel room ahead of them. James lowered his weapon, not sure of where to go.
Mike hadn't heard anything from KITT and assumed it was safe. He rounded the final corner to see the Shelby sitting under the trees. Sara saw them at the same time and stepped out of the car. She broke out into a run and threw herself into her father's arms.
"Dad! I'm so sorry for everything!" she cried.
Charles pulled his only daughter into his arms and held her tight. He reveled in the familiar warmth of her body, the smell of the shampoo and conditioner she used. Only hours ago, when he was struggling on dead legs to reach Jennifer's cabin, he was beginning to wonder if he'd see his daughter ever again, to talk about the things that they needed airing. To fix the things in their relationship that had been broken by petty words and pride. There wasn't enough time in the world, and when something suddenly came up, a person would realize that time was finite, that people would not always be around for the moments that really counted. If anything, that had lent him the trifle bit of strength needed to reach Jennifer's door.
"Me too honey," he whispered into her hair. Looking past her, he couldn't help but see the massive form of the Mustang Shelby.
Mike looked at them. Unbelievable. "Okay, seriously. You guys want to get us KILLED? Keep this up, and we will get caught!"
Charles let go of Sarah. "Hello KITT. What's the location of our attackers?"
KITT's voice came back, but the harmonics were wavy, like a tape player running on fluctuating power. Charles felt dread taking hold in the pit of this stomach. "I cannot be certain as to their location because an outside source is hacking my system with surprising efficiency. They will have full control in 23 seconds."
"Ah, hell…" Mike muttered, scanning the buildings with his gun. This was all going south…damn civvy's. They were gabbing and talking while an enemy force was advancing on their position. A bunch of TV writers for a bad TV show pilot couldn't have written it worse. 'This was going to get bad,' he thought.
Charlie grinned eagerly as Black River's Cyber Division worked its magic through his wireless laptop system. He saw code flash by on the screen at a rate far faster than he could possibly follow. But he was able to see bits and pieces of code, and as his coworker had mentioned, it was truly scary and advanced stuff – much like the algorithms he had seen back at Graiman's house. He looked up and through the windshield to see the distant figures of Mike, Charles and Jennifer run up to the black Ford Mustang Shelby.
He hit his radio button. "I have them sighted. They are with the car near the south-east edge of the complex. Looks like they're having a family meeting or something." Charlie shook his head in wonder. How had these dingbat's escaped them three times?
Charles thought fast. "KITT, close off all External Access points, authorization Sarah-Gamma--"
"Authorization denied. External Access Points overridden. Primary Control Overriden. Secondary Control being overridden."
Mike looked between the car and Charles. There was an electronics battle raging. They were losing, and he was helpless to stop it. "So what do we do?"
"14 seconds."
Charles knew he had no choice. Someone had somehow compromised KITT's security. The External Access Point had been left open for maintenance purposes. He had been writing a program that would allow KITT to operate the access point at will, but would also allow anyone with select DNA profiles to ask for access on a personable level. With it compromised, anyone would be able to fully control KITT to the point where they could shut him down, erase him or even copy or move his entire system elsewhere. He could not let that happen.
"KITT, shut down the computer. Now."
"Shutting down all systems."
He hammered his hand down on the roof in frustration, then turned to Mike and Sarah. "It can still be driven, but it has to be done manually." But they didn't get the chance.
Three people burst from behind the last line of motel buildings.
"DOWN!" Mike yelled. He aimed one-handed and pulled the trigger, sending off multiple bullets at their opponents while moving around KITT's hood. Sarah froze in place and screamed as explosions of gunfire ripped across the vacant motel lot. Jennifer tackled her and slammed her to the asphalt. Charles took cover behind the rear wheel of KITT's body. She raised her gun awkwardly over the trunk and pulled the trigger. The powerful recoil jolted the gun out of her hand. It fell onto the trunk and slid out of her reach. She ducked back down. Glass exploded and bullets punched clear through the doors of the Mustang. Mike yelled in surprise as glass rained down on him and bullets ripped exit holes in the body of the Mustang bare inches from his head.
"I THOUGHT THIS THING WAS BULLET-PROOF!!!" he yelled at Charles. He snaked a hand over the hood of the car and squeezed off shots blindly at their attackers. He hunkered down as a deluge of return fire. More glass rained down and the tortured sound of metal being ripped filled the air. The car listed as one tire exploded. Then it settled as the other tire was shredded by bullets.
"Only if the computer is working!" Charles shouted back above the canopy of explosions, hunkering behind the rear wheel and protecting his head.
"KITT!!!!" Sarah screamed in anguish, seeing her protector mauled and eviscerated by the hail of bullets. "NOOOOO!!!"
Jagged bits and pieces of his side windows remained, like small stubborn pieces of glass that refused to let go. The front windshield cracked and shuddered as glancing blows from bullets perforated it. An ugly pattern of spiderweb cracks grew bigger as more bullets pounded in and through the glass. Then, just as sudden as it had started, the shooting stopped. Mike brushed bits of glass from his hair and opened his eyes. Yelling could be heard from the other side of the car.
"FBI!"
"FREEZE!"
"DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"
"DROP THEM NOW!"
"FBI!"
Carrie Rivai screeched her Chevy Tahoe onto the driveway of the motel parking lot…and right into a warzone. She slammed on the brakes, threw open her door and drew her Special Agent Issue Glock 22. "FBI!" she yelled.
"FREEZE!" she heard the Sheriff yell from the other side.
The other black FBI suburbans halted and FBI agents poured out the doors. They yelled demands as they took up defensive positions behind the doors of their vehicles.
James knew they were in a bad spot. They had completely forgotten about the FBI team that had been enroute to this very position. They had been so preoccupied with assaulting the Shelby that they had lost Situational Awareness. It was to their utter surprise that the army of FBI vehicles had pulled up on their flank, catching his team completely in the open with no cover whatsoever. Mac's Mossberg shotgun roared, sending slugs at the FBI vehicles. He racked the slide three times, sending lethal lead death at the black vehicles. But it was all for show as James saw the slugs bounce off the armour of the FBI vehicles.
He reached into a pouch and withdrew a grenade. Inserting it into the open breech of his grenade launcher, he snapped it shut.
Mac staggered backwards as a hail of 9mm bullets slammed into his ballistics vest. The lead flattened against the Kevlar weave but did not penetrate. But the bullets hit with the force of a baseball bat, and Mac barely prevented himself from falling. Anyone else may have gone down, despite wearing a bullet-proof vest, but this had not been the first time Mac had taken hits from 9mm bullets. It took more than that to fall the large mercenary.
But their heads, arms, and hands were unprotected, and it was only a matter of time before an FBI shooter got luck. It was time to even those odds.
James squeezed the trigger, and with a 'bloop', his M203 launcher spewed forth a 40mm grenade at the nearest FBI suburban. It impacted on the black vehicle and exploded. The force of the explosion crumpled the bullet-resistant grill and shattered the windshield. The four FBI agents using it as a shield were brutally flung onto the ground. They lay there, injured and barely moving, stunned at the sudden ferocity of the attack.
Another 'bloop' could be heard as Tom launched another 40mm grenade. The vehicle closest to him vanished in the explosion. A secondary explosion lit off as a fuel line in the engine caught. It engulfed the front of the FBI vehicle and added to the destruction and mayhem in the motel parking lot. One agent was laid up on the ground. Another lay at an awkward angle, a growing pool of blood seeping from his neck where a piece of shrapnel had severed an artery.
James felt himself take two painful hits from 9mm bullets that hammered into him. He fell to one knee, his face a rictus of pain as the hits made it hard to breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mac drop his useless shotgun, pull a pin from a grenade, and roll the bouncing sphere towards the Chevy Tahoe. Unfortunately for him, at the same time, the Sheriff was taking careful aim. A shot rang out, and Mac twisted in pain as a bullet cored through his shoulder, hit his scalpula, and lodge near the brachial artery. Another bullet smashed into his temple and blew out his brains. Like a ragged doll, Mac fell to the pavement. Dead.
The grenade exploded near the right front tire of the Tahoe where the Sheriff was taking cover. The small explosion lifted the SUV slightly. Deadly fragments ripped through the Sheriff's legs, cutting through muscle, tendons, veins and other blood vessels. The Sheriff screamed in pain and fell to the ground, his shredded legs unable to support his weight. Fragments ripped through Carrie's calf, and she too, fell to the asphalt, her handgun bouncing away as she hit the ground. Writhing in pain, she realized that nothing below her knee worked. As she rolled, she smelled something funny. Eyes widening in horror, she looked back at the Tahoe and saw a steady stream of gasoline leaking from the destroyed gasline of her SUV. She looked forward and began pulling desperately with her arms, dragging her injured body away from her doomed vehicle. Crawling admist the gunfire, she felt one of the agents grab her and haul her behind an SUV just as her own vehicle exploded in a bloom of fire, heat, and metal. Large pieces of red hot metal tore through the Sheriff, killing him instantly.
'Bloop'. The SUV she and the agent were hiding behind, as well as the last of the untouched vehicles, was slammed backwards by the high-explosive round. Carrie was lucky as the back end simply lurched over her. But the mass of the SUV slammed into the two Agents face-first, sending them flying backwards to hit the ground hard. Their heads smashed into the asphalt with sufficient force to render them unconscious.
James began advancing on the line of FBI vehicles. No agents were visible nor were they shooting back. He had been certain that he had killed three agents with headshots. He could see the bodies of well-dressed men and women laid out behind the doors, or flung away from the vehicles that had been hit with the high-explosive grenades.
WHUP-WHUP-WHUP-WHUP
He looked up and saw a helicopter coming over the hillside. It had a person standing on the landing skid holding what looked to be a long sniper rifle. The word 'FBI' was painted in big, black letters on the side. The sniper was aiming in his general direction. James dove to the side. He felt a bullet part his hair, nearly ending his life. Hitting the ground, he twisted and fired his M-16 and burnt an entire clip at the helicopter. But the 'copter was fairly distant, and he had been firing from the hip. The chances of him hitting it were slim to none. A loud roar washed over him, and the shockwave of a massive explosion hammered at his senses. The helicopter suddenly twisted in the air. It began swapping end for end as thick, oily smoke spewed from its engine.
James looked to the side. Off in the distance, Charlie grinned at him. On the hood of the X5 sat a monster of a rifle: a Barrett .50 Calibre sniper rifle. He felt his mouth crook up in a grin before radioing him. "Charlie, get over here for transport!"
"Roger!" Charlie answered the excitement clear in his voice.
The helicopter crashed behind the motel and erupted in a fiery explosion that began a forest fire.
A shot rang out, and Tom collapsed like a marionette that just had its strings cut. He reflexively fired his 40mm grenade launcher into the air with a 'bloop' before falling to the asphalt, a neat hole in his head. James had reloaded and brought up his rifle just as Mike ducked behind the Shelby again. He fired, coring the car further, shredding its tires more but unable to penetrate the thick axle and hit the man behind the front wheel. In his anger, he held down the trigger, hosing a figure eight around the wheel well. Then the rifle clicked on empty. Disgusted, he threw it aside the empty rifle and drew his Beretta. He heard the engine of their X5 moving up to his position. Slowly, he advanced on the Shelby. Turning around the trunk, he saw Graiman with two women covering him. All stared helplessly at him. A man in a dark leather jacket lay against the front wheel. A handgun lay at his feet. The slide was locked back, the chamber empty. The bullet that had killed Tom had been his last one. James raised his handgun and took aim at him.
"NO!" one of the woman screamed, leaping to her feet. She imposed herself between him and the man just as he double-tapped the trigger. The two hollow points impacted on her chest. They tore through her chest and ripped her left lung to shreds. Part of one bullet nicked her heart and severed the lower left coronary artery, depriving the powerful left ventricle of it's blood supply, creating an ischemic event that starved the muscle, which pumped blood to the entire body, of oxygen. Blood from the vessel began filling the pericardial space, restricting its pumping motions. The heart began dying. Blood immediately began pooling into her lungs as the air-breathing sacs deflated. Bright, oxygenated blood began trickling out of her mouth as her trachea filled with her life's fluid and she began chocking.
"Mom! MOM!" Mike yelled, his face a mask of horror, catching her limp body as she fell into his arms. Distraught, Mike held onto her. "Mom, don't try to move okay? Don't try to talk."
Carrie saw the X5 skid to a stop besides James. She saw James aim his gun at someone on the other side of the car. She saw Jennifer leap in front of the gun. She saw the muzzle flashes from his gun and Jennifer shudder as she took the bullets. She saw her crumple limply and heard someone screaming. Gritting her teeth against her own pain, she aimed her gun at James. It was a very far shot with a handgun, but she had a steady platform and a good sight picture. Adrenaline still pumped through her system, but her hand was surprisingly steady. Laws and Regulations stipulating the Rules of Engagement and Necessary Force fled her mind. The man had just gunned down someone under her protection in cold blood. There was no doubt in her mind that he would do so again. So she took careful aim, even as James corrected slightly and attempted to shoot Mike. Taking a deep breath, she aimed slightly high, then let half her breath out. The sights became rock-steady. She squeezed the trigger.
The .40 calibre took James in the shoulder, sending him staggering in pain against the X5. Considering the distance, it had been a proficient shot. Carrie pulled the trigger again, and again and again, breathing between each shot and aiming with the same skills she used at the target range. The second and third shots bounced off the armour of the X5 as James twisted away and put the X5 between him and Carrie. They missed James, but they ricocheted off the SUV and buzzed around his body as he hunkered down and desperately moved his ass. Like a parting gift, James had nearly made it around the front of the X5 when her last round slammed into him between the shoulders and pounded him off his feet to land in a heap on the ground.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Carrie fell forward, her gun forgotten as she writhed in pain. A foot lashed out and slammed into her belly. Her Kevlar absorbed some of the impact, but the powerful blow still it her brutally hard. She retched and threw up. A second kick lanced in, catching her on the cheek and ripping a large gash.
"Do you know how long I've waited to do this?" a voice told her.
She rolled over, spitting out the remnants of her lunch. With great effort, Carrie looked through the haze of pain and stared up at the last person she expected to see.
Her partner stared down at her. Gone was the careless and fun-loving expression that had dominated his face whilst he had been within her company. He sneered down at her, holding a non-regulation Browning Hi-Power pointed at her head. She supposed she was lucky. A bigger bullet at that range may have cracked a rib or two, bullet-proof vest or no.
"Kevin!" she gapped. She looked at him in surprise before anger welled up in her. "You bastard!"
He laughed uncaringly. "Boy, I've waited such a long time for this. Do you know how hard it was to take your stupid orders all the time? Heck, for that matter, any order period! I HATE the Bureau. I hated how you all pranced around, thinking you had all the power in the world, comfy in your ridiculous suits and protected by your stupid badges."
"Bastard," Carrie hissed. "I'm going to-"
He dropped to his haunches. "What? What? Whatcha gonna do? Huh? HUH!" He pistol-whipped her, cracking her head to the side. She took it silently, not giving him the satisfaction of hearing her yell in pain. She looked back at him, the hatred clearly visible on her face. Blood dribbled down her chin.
"You gonna arrest me Carrie Rivai, apple in my eye? You like that rhyme? I made it up one day while I was sitting around, bored out of my skull when my lesbo partner showed up late after nailing some other chick! You disgust me. Your world disgusts me. It's people like you who have tainted everything that we had. You and your sacrilege practices of blasphemy sex." He waved his gun with each word, "You violate God's Temple with your actions."
Carrie spit out a glob of blood. She regarded like someone who had lost his hold on reality. "So, this all a religious thing for you? You some nut hellbent on changing the world?"
He flashed her a brilliant smile. "EXACTLY! Now you get it, Special Agent Rivai. Power. The power to change the world, Carrie. The earth was an Eden, a wonderful and beautiful place to live. But humans had to come and screw it up. We altered a wonderful place into a mockery of life. We live in an age of sin and gluttony, and everyday we seem to become worse for our efforts. That has to stop. We're going to make it stop. We're going to start over. We're going to make it right."
He giggled. "What is the saying? You know, that guy on TV from Canada? Hmmm…oh yeah! If you're gonna do it right, do it right the first time!"
Slowly, comprehension dawned on Carrie. "My God…Prometheus. You're going to use Prometheus and…nuke the entire world?" she said in abject horror.
"Exactamundo!" he smiled like a magician who had just revealed his biggest secret.
"You're insane!" she accused him.
"NO!" he shouted, angry once again. "You're world is insane! Our world is the definition of sanity!"
She shook her head sadly. "You think you guys are going to make a difference in the world? For all your little speeches. For all your little antics, nothing will change Kevin. As long as humans exist, there will always be greedy, jealousy, gluttony, all the sins you speak of. It's human nature. No matter how many times you start over, it will always be there. You can't erase what's in our very nature," she reasoned.
Kevin stood up and shook his head. "You're wrong. That kind of thinking is the reason we're starting over. It's the same reason that has resulted in the chaotic state of world we have today. Your society has become so compliant and accepting its losing its humanity. You want an example Carrie? Look at the Internet. It was originally meant as a way of tying together academic institutions and unifying the brilliant minds of the world. Instead, it has been turned into a perverse mockery of its original intent. What, ninety percent of the internet is used for porn? Most of the internet sites surfed by people at work are teen porn sites? Is nothing sacred anymore? Are we becoming a destitute society hellbent on living for its vices? Can you see where this is going? Look-"
They both became away of someone yelling Kevin's name. He looked over his shoulder, yelling, "WHAT?"
Carrie shuddered. In a way, what Kelvin said made some really scary sense.
Charlie bailed out of the passenger seat, wary of any further bullets hitting the SUV. He reached down and helped James up.
James stood with a groan of pain. "Bloody hell…"
"Boss," Charlie began, "There's freaking huge deputy convoy heading this direction, as well as another FBI chopper. They're gonna get here anytime. We gotta go. Now!"
James stared at him. He and Charlie were the only ones left, and Charlie's was a computer specialist, not a combatant specialist; the next round could end with their deaths and a failed mission. "Ah…sod this! Let's go." He took a step towards the Graiman's, then stopped in shock. There, by the Chevy Tahoe was their FBI infiltrator…and he was holding a gun on another FBI Agent.
"Oh, for the love of-" James said in disbelief. Their deep-cover agent had just blown his cover, and for no reason! The stupid Senators son, who they had gone to considerable lengths to insert into the FBI, had just thrown all that work away. He repressed the urge to shoot that snotty, brat of a kid. A considerable investment had been sacrificed in the form of his infiltration. "That stupid, sodding, excuse of a human!" James spat.
"Kelvin!" he yelled. "KELVIN! GET YOUR BLIMEY ASS OVER HERE, YOU STUPID MORON!!"
He saw Kelvin look at them, give them a jaunty wave, before looking back, yell and dive out of the way. Gunshots cracked from behind him.
"Aw, hell," Charlie said, unholstering his Glock 21.
Carrie Rivai thanked her instructor. Time and time again, he had emphasized the importance of a back-up weapon, and Carrie had followed his advice. Most of the time, she had been able to strap it to her vest in a location where either her left or right hand had access to it. But in times where she was wearing civilian clothes, such as now, she had to settle for an ankle holster, and those, she swore, were more trouble than they were worth. She was lucky that surfing was an avid hobby of hers. She had gotten used to having the large board tied to her ankle. Having a backup gun holstered there was not too dissimilar in weight. In fact, the board was heavier. She had also gotten used to a weight being on her ankle, which made the unnatural weight nearly habit. But the damn gun fell out of the holster at the most inopportune times, and there were many instances when Carrie had just taken it off and stored it for a later time.
But when Kelvin had glanced behind him, she quickly pulled up her pant leg and unholstered the Glock 26. The small backup weapon fit snuggly into her palm. Kevlin turned around just as she leveled it at him.
His eyes grew wide as saucers. "HOLY CRAP!!!" he yelled, diving to the side. Whether by pure dumb luck or skill, Kelvin had twisted his torso before diving for the ground. The bullet that was meant for his heart instead ripped a shallow gash across his chest. He hit the ground hard and lost his gun. Survival instinct made him roll for the nearest available cover – the SUV's tire. The next bullet slammed into the ground his as he rolled. Two more hit the ground near his shoulder and head. He felt rock chips slash his face and yelled in surprise and fright.
Suddenly, bullets spanged off her vehicle and the ground around Carrie. Startled, she saw the muzzle flashes and began crawling backwards, dragging her useless calf along the ground. She aimed in the general direction of the gunfire and let loose the remainder of her 10-round magazine.
Some may have called it Divine Intervention, other would have just said stupidly lucky, but most of Carrie's bullets somehow hammered into the X5's armour. None of them hit James or Charlie, but they came perilously close and made them duck for cover, giving Carrie a chance to drag her injured self behind the wreck of a vehicle. Breathing hard, she heard more bullets hit her cover, but none came close to her. Looking around her cover, she couldn't see Kelvin anymore. The bastard had made a run for it.
"GET OVER HERE NOW!" James hollered at him, making him scramble away from his cover and across the parking lot. Kelvin approached at a dead run, the fright clearly evident on his face. He ran by the Mustang Shelby, but James jammed a finger at the bullet-ridden car. "GRAB GRAIMAN AND GET YOUR ARSES OVER HERE!"
Kelvin skidded to a stop, reached down and hauled the white-haired man to his feet. He shoved the man forwards and marched him to the X5.
"Daddy!" Sara exclaimed, getting to her feet. James fired a round at her. He missed, but the message was clear and she dove back to the ground.
"Get in!" James motioned to the back seat. Kelvin shoved the old man into the back, then climbed in after him. The all clambered into the safe, bullet-proof interior of the vehicle. In a cloud of gravel and rubber, Charlie peeled out and blasted out of the parking lot.
Jennifer felt cold, and she was getting colder by the minute. She was dying. Strange sensations, like people grabbing and plucking at her clothes from beneath her could be felt, but her attention was taken by her son. Mike had taken off his jacket and kept it pressed hard against her bullet wounds in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood. At first, it had been a blinding, burning pain that wracked her body. Now, she was cold and numb. She looked up at her son and smiled. She could see the resemblance he had to his father. That strong jaw, those large, luminous eyes, those defined cheek bones. She saw so much of Michael Knight in her son. She bitterly regretted not being able to see the boy that had grown into that man.
"I'm so sorry," she said with difficulty.
That one word held so much. It was like a stab to Mike's heart, but he could only look on helplessly. The wounds were fatal. He knew that, and could do nothing but look on helplessly as his mom put on a brave front.
He stroked her hair, remembering how luxurious, how light the downy brown hair had felt in his young hands. "Mom? Why'd you do that? I coulda…could of-" He wanted to say 'dodged', but the words became stuck in his throat. His ability to speak quit and large, unshed tears threatened to fall from his eyes.
His mother smiled up at him. Her eyes told him she knew. They twinkled with dying light. "Always looked out for you Mikey. Always."
She exhaled, then did not take another breath. Her eyes looked at her son, but they did not see.
Jennifer Knight was dead.
The damn broke. An anguished cry reverberated around the torn-up parking lot. Mike picked up his mom and squeezed her to his chest, as if the action would prevent her spirit from leaving her broken body. Tears of grief and sorrow cascaded unchecked and splashed onto his mother's face. He rocked back and forth, the loss tearing at his soul.
Sarah put her arms around Mike and rested her head in the crook of his neck. Her own tears tracked down her cheek and pooled on his shirt. She felt him shaking with sobs, and she could do nothing but offer what little comfort she had as his world fell apart.
"I'm sorry Mike," she heard someone say. Sara blinked the tears from her eyes and looked up. Carrie Rivai leaned up against a tree. She held her stomach, and one leg hung limply, her pants ripped and soaked with blood. The Special Agent of the FBI watched the grieving man in sympathy, giving him a moment to himself. But the world was a hard place, and life itself never played by any kind rules.
"Mike," Carrie said. "I'm sorry to do this Mike, but you have to go stop them."
Mike raised his head. Tear tracks could clearly been seen running down the dirt on his smudged face. His eyes were shot with red. He wiped them with his sleeve.
"Stop what?" he rasped out.
Carrie took a breath. She felt like scum. She felt lower than dirt, like the crap on the bottom of someone's shoe. But she persevered, "Mike, they have Sarah's father and they have his hard drives. Do you know what Prometheus can do?"
'Start a nuclear war,' Sarah remembered. This wasn't fair. Mike's mom had been gunned down senselessly after giving her own life to protect her son. Her body wasn't even cold yet and they had to leave. Sarah looked down at the woman that had been akin to a second mother. It wasn't fair. But Carrie was right. They had to leave.
"Sarah." She looked up into Carrie's questioning look. "You collaborated on the initial encryption with your father. How soon can they crack it?"
Sarah forced the jumble of thoughts into a logical order. "I'm not sure. It will really depend upon just how much computing power and the skill they have. It could be anywhere from a matter of hours, to a day to a month. There's really no way to tell…"
Carrie turned her attention back to Mike. "Mike, I'm sorry about your mom. I know it sounds callous, but there's nothing more we can do for her. But we need to save Sarah's father. Once they get the Prometheus Codes, they will have no further use for him. They will kill Sarah's father too. And it won't stop there. Millions of people will be next…"
"With what?" Mike spat out angrily. "Look around you! We have nothing with which to hurt them! They trashed everything. Even if I could catch them, which I can't…"
Sarah slowly got up and turned to the Shelby…or what was left of it. All the windows save the front one were shattered and empty. The windshield was an oblique mess of bullet-hole starred cracks and holes. Its once mirror-like body was a battle-torn mess of metal that could be seen from rear to front. The tires had been shredded and the rims scarred. It was a car in the very loosest sense of the word. She reached the passenger door and hesitantly pulled it open. It groaned in protest. Peering in, Sara prayed that she would find what she was looking for.
Bullet holes and wiring poked out of the devastated dashboard. But like the eye of a hurricane, the center console was unmarred. It sat pristine and quiet, somehow surviving the massive hail of bullets. With her heart thudding in her chest, Sara reached out tentatively with her left hand and placed it on the smooth surface.
Nothing happened.
The small ball of hope that Sarah carried broke. She let her head fall forward as a fresh wave of tears came forth. This car, this AI had been her Savior for the last couple of days. It had protected her, had kept her constant companionship, and had never left her. KITT had never been judgmental, had never once ridiculed or or used her for his own agenda. The AI had never done anything save what it needed to do to ensure her well-being. It had been a friend without peer, and had never, not once, asked for anything in return.
First Mike's mom, then this… It was becoming too much for her to take.
Lost in her grief, Sarah did not see blue light appear underneath her fingertips. A green bar scrolled beneath her hand.
IDENTITY CONFIRMED
Sarah graiman
A crystal high beep sounded in the cabin, then the screen changed. Sarah's head snapped up and her eyes widened in surprise before she looked on in absolute joy.
KITT Neural network
Deactivated
As she watched, the screen updated and the red word 'DEACTIVATED' disappeared. In its place was a 3D image of a neural network. Sparks appeared in neural maze and began firing actively. Then above it appeared:
Nanomorph skin
Deactivated
Once again, the red words 'DEACTIVATED' disappeared and a bar graph sprang to life. She heard a powerful electronic moan that increased in intensity and frequency. It surrounded the car. Before her startled eyes, the chewed-up console began repair itself. Holes closed and wiring shrunk like they were being disassembled then reassembled in their proper places. The mess of a windshield cleared at a phenomenal rate as the cracks and holes healed up. With a resounding roar, the engine fired up and the car shifted. Sarah looked around in utter disbelief and awe. Not a scratch marred the interior of the car. The windows were fully replaced and the body once again regained its mirror-like polish.
"Hello Sarah. Are you alright?"
"KITT! I could hug you! You're alright!"
There was a pause, then, "Agent Rivai, I have notified the Emergency Medical Services. As well, I detect multiple deputy vehicles inbound, as well as an FBI chopper. They should be here in 3.2 minutes… Mike, I'm sorry. I… I wish I could help."
Agent Rivai stared stupefied at the transformed Shelby. She could not believe what her eyes had just told her.
Mike, still in anguish, gently placed his mom on the ground and closed her eyes. He stood up and looked down. Silently, he formed words with his lips. Then he spun around and marched towards KITT.
"Mike! Here." Special Agent Rivai held up her Glock 26 and two spare 10-round clips. Mike snatched them and resumed his walk to KITT. The driver's side door opened and he climbed in. A chrome stick shift elevated into position and clutch, brake and gas pedals lowered into the foot well.
Mike closed the door and stared straight ahead. "Sarah, get the hell out of here."
Sarah vehemently shook her head. "That's my father. I'm coming with you!"
He shrugged his shoulders and depressed the clutch, slammed the shift lever into 1st, stomped on the gas and popped the clutch. The engine roared with anger as the Knight Three Thousand tore out of the parking lot in a cloud of smoke and dust. In seconds, it was but a tiny dot on the highway.
"Good luck," whispered Carrie as she collapsed onto the ground. A minute later, a platoon of Sheriff Deputies, ambulances and one FBI helicopter flooded the parking lot.
Mike slammed the gear shift into 3rd and pinned the accelerator. The country side blurred by at a dizzying rate. Sarah watched it go by. She was scared, but she refused to show it. She would have been calmer had she know that KITT was making hundreds of corrections per second as Mike overpowered the car's handling capabilities, bringing it back under control each time.
"Thank you for doing this," she told him.
Mike stared straight ahead and declined to look at her. "I'm not doing it for you," he answered.
James checked the bandage on his shoulder. It was soaked with blood, but would hold for now. He readjusted the seatbelt to stop it from chaffing on his neck. Twisting in the passenger seat, he looked into the frightened face of Charles Graiman.
"I'm guessing if you won't give us Prometheus, the car will."
Charles wiped his forehead. "You have no idea what you'r doing. You could start a war."
James pretended to consider. "We won't," he answered innocently. Then he smirked, "But my client might. Besides, wars are always good for business!"
Charles tried to get him to see reason. "Look, I'll do whatever you want. Just don't hurt anyone else. Please."
The interior of the vehicle was silent as James stared at Charles, who gathered his thoughts. "Cooperate and I'll assure you that everyone will get out of this alive. Don't, and I'll…"
James paused and looked past Charles. He blinked, then blinked again. He squinted his eyes. "What the bloody HELL!!???" he said, looking unbelievably out the rear window.
Charlie shot a quick glance at his boss, then looked into the review mirror. "Holy hell. Is that what I think it is?"
James turned to him in a daze. Noooo….no way! "Is the car still shut down?"
"I must shut down now. I have detected a network intrusion."
"Do it KITT. I'm sorry," Sarah told him.
"Shutting down systems now."
"Blast!" James shouted at the laptop.
"Hey, don't look at me," Charlie's contact came over the laptop's speakers. "You need to find some way for them to turn the AI back on."
"The kid has gotta be driving now," Charlie commented, watching as the powerful Mustang grew quickly in the rearview mirror.
James turned around and pointed his gun at Charles. "Charles, we're going to need those codes right now. Kelvin, if you'd be so kind."
"Mike, take it easy!" she yelled as he accidentally fishtailed the Mustang. Without KITT's constant supervision, the phenomenally overpowered car was a beast to handle. Undeterred, Mike regained control and sped up beside the larger SUV. Then he reefed the wheel over and slammed it hard into the X5. Both vehicle skidded slightly before regaining control.
Sarah held on for dear life as Mike fought the fishtailing car and won. "Dammit Mike, my father's in there!" she yelled at him.
For the first time since the chase, Mike turned and glared angrily at her. "Don't you think I know that!"
Kelvin stuck his gun into Graiman's ear and painfully twisted the gun. "Graiman, give them the code."
James hit the autodown button for the window, then stuck his handgun out and fired off his whole clip.
Mike saw the window come down and the gun come out. He slammed on the brakes, throwing him and Sarah brutally against the seatbelts. Bullets smashed into the C-pillar and the hood. Sparks flew from the holes.
"Sonovabitch!" Mike yelled, pulling behind and to the side of the SUV, making them impossible to shoot from James's position.
"Can we turn the computer on?" Mike asked Sarah as he tailed the X5.
She shook her head. "We might have only 10 seconds before they can get control of it."
"Give them the codes now!" Kelvin yelled, pushing Graiman's head up against the window with his pistol. The threat didn't work. Graiman stubbornly stayed silent. Kelvin growled, knowing the threat was empty. Without Graiman, the chances of accessing the codes were a long time in coming.
Sara grabbed the Glock 26 that Mike had put under his leg. "Mike, pull around to the other side."
Mike wrenched the wheel over to the left side of the X5 and stomped on the gas. The powerful car moved up to the driver's side.
Charlie watched as the black car pulled up even to his window. The passenger window came down and he saw the girl aim a handgun at him.
Sarah had never shot a gun in her life, but at point blank range, she had nothing to hit but all SUV. She fired and watched in dismay as the bullets pitted the bullet-resistant glass but did not penetrate.
Charlie lowered his window. With one hand on the steering, he aimed his gun at the girl and fired.
Sarah flinched away as bullets shattered the glass. Bits and pieces slashed and cut her face. Mike slammed on the brakes again. Then she screamed as a bullet penetrated the door, tumbled through the interior and sliced into her knee. Another bullet smashed through the window, penetrated Sarah's shoulder, bounced off her clavicle, snapped it, then ricocheted into the dashboard.
Graiman saw the horrific sight of the passenger window shattering beside his daughter and the door being perforated with bullets. He yelled, "Okay, okay! I'll give you the codes!"
He traded his daughter's life in exchange for the end of the world.
Charlie watched as James punched in the alpha-numeric string of code. "That should do it. The code is being decrypted," he said, watching as the laptop churn the numbers. An upload bar appeared. "Sending it now."
Mike pulled the car back behind the X5 and to the right. James tracked their progress in the side-view mirror. Charlie also followed them. Instead of drafting them safely, it looked like the driver was getting ready to ram them in the side.
"What are they doing?" Charlie said, a tad nervous. The last broadside by the car had actually sent the X5 into a small spin. That Mustang weighed a fair bit.
James was asking himself the same question. "I don't know…" He split his time between the laptop and the black car. The completion bar on the screen slowly inched towards 40.
Sarah watched as Mike got a good grip on the steering wheel with his left hand. His right dropped down to the stick shift. In a pain-filled voice, she asked "What are you doing?"
Mike was a study of concentration. He turned to her, "When I tell you to, turn on KITT's computer."
"What for? Mike…"
James watched as the driver kept the car just behind their right-rear quarter. "What's he doing…"
"Okay Sarah, do it!"
But Sarah hesitated, knowing that they had less than 10 seconds before KITT lost his ability to operate.
Mike glared at her, "You wanna see your father again? DO IT!"
She grimaced in pain but leaned forward and placed her hand on the center console.
Charlie's laptop beeped. Both he and James glanced down at it. "Okay, the computer is back on…and it's blocking our outgoing transmission." James hammered the side of his door in frustration. Suddenly, the black car shot ahead of the X5 in a burst of speed that was on the wrong side of impossible. James could only gap as it flashed by his window faster than any car had the right to accelerate.
Sarah took in all the functioning systems on his console. "KITT, you there?"
"Yes, though I am trying to jam all frequencies coming from the SUV. I am afraid the outside system will have control in less than 8 seconds."
Mike braced himself. "Sorry buddy, I think this is gonna hurt."
In an apprehensive voice, KITT said, "Mike, what exactly are you going to do?"
Mike hammered down the brake, then spun the wheel to the left and cranked the e-brake. The Shelby nosed-down and lost a massive amount of speed before swinging its body perpendicular to the highway. He grabbed Sarah and buried her head into his chest. Both missed the words 'L Ejection Seat, R Ejection Seat: ERROR' light up on the console.
Charlie barely had time to scream as the BMW X5 t-boned the Shelby at full speed. The destructive collision shoved the Shelby further down the road. But the nanobites held the molecular structure of the Shelby together. The same could not be said about the X5. The word 'bullet-proof' is widely misunderstood and misused by the general public. By definition, the word 'proof' carries an implied understanding that it will never fail and will always repel that which it was built to prevent. However, many items, such as 'bullet-proof' glass are, in fact, 'bullet-resistant' and not 'bullet-proof'. That simple fact can been seen when bullets strike the glass and actually damage it, or the armoured metal dents inward rather than fully deflecting said bullet and maintaining complete structural integrity. Enough bullets place in a general impact point can shatter nearly all 'bullet-resistant' material. The term 'bullet-proof' implies a far more resilient structure.
A tank is 'bullet-proof' against small arms fire, as is the Knight Three Thousand. A civilian armoured BMW X5 is not…
Though armoured to withstand a limited amount of bullets, the X5 was not rated for a collision with an indestructible vehicle that halted the SUV from 99mph to 0 in less than 1 second. The SUV thundered into the Knight Three Thousand with a horrendous explosion of tortured metal and flying pieces. The bumper shattered on impact, the grill crumpled like tin-foil, the hood folded like an accordion, and the engine was forced under the passenger box. Bullet-proof glass shattered from the ferocity of the collision. The force of the impact mangled and warped the chassis. Charlie, who had not been belted in, smashed into the airbag as it deployed in 60 milliseconds. The force of the collision broke all his ribs and slammed brutally into his internal organs and ruptured some of them, causing internal bleeding. His heart suffered massive trauma as the brutal impact with the airbag disrupted its rhythm threw it into a fibrillation. Kelvin, who was also not belted in, was thrown forwards and caromed off the driver's seat, broke the floor anchors for the seat, hit Charlie on the back of his neck and snapped multiple cervical vertebrae before slamming off the inside of the roof and sailing out the front windshield. His right arm struck the Shelby as he flew by, shattering it into 5 pieces and landed head-first on the hard asphalt. The force of the impact snapped his spine in two places before he landed on his back and rolled down the road. By the time Kelvin stopped his aerobics, he had broken nearly 19 bones in his body, cracked open his head and caused massive trauma to his brain. He felt his lungs stop working as the nerves were severed. Thankfully, he passed into unconsciousness before his body suffocated to death. The pretensioners on the seatbelts tightened and bore the brunt of James and Charles's impacts. Their ribs cracked as they slammed against them and airbags. Internal organs still moving at 99mph hit the ribs and some of them ruptured. The back end reared up as the vehicle crumpled. It slammed back down on its rear wheels and bounced a few times after its energy was spent.
In KITT, Mike and Sarah were thrown to the left. Sarah felt herself hit hard against Mike's body. Her brain hammered against the inside of her skull and she lost consciousness. Her lower restraint kept her from crushing Mike with her body weight, though it ruptured her left kidney and fractured her pelvis. But by cushioning her, Mike saved her from very critical injuries.
The same could not be said about him.
KITT was built with energy absorption in mind. Alloys of absorbent material encased the car internally. As well, side airbags deployed before Mike hit the driver's side. But even so, the force of the collision caused brutal injuries to his left side as well as ruptured blood vessels in his cranium.
The sounds of the collision died away. White steam rose from the utterly destroyed engine of the SUV. The site sat silent for long moments. Not a single person stirred. Soon, the sounds of nature, the gentle wind rushing among the hills continued as insects and animals lost interest and continued along their way.
Inside the cabin of the car, a lone voice could be heard, calling out again and again, but to no avail. It sounded stricken with grief and guilt, but no one was there to hear it.
Soon, the sound of a helicopter could be heard. An FBI chopper burst over a ridge and banked in the direction of the collision. The chopper aligned with the road and descended fast as the pilot lowered the cyclic and cut the RPM's, coming down at a speed meant for combat landings. The landing skids hit the road's surfaced, bounced once, twice, then settled as the pilot cut power to the blades. The passenger door was thrown open as Agent Johnson and other FBI agents poured from the craft's interior. Carrie limped painfully from her seat. She clutched a large sniper rifle and used it as an impromptu crutch.
Johnson ran up to the Knight Three Thousand and yanked on the door handle, but it would not open to his touch. He tried a few more times as another agent attempted to break the glass. They both gave up and moved onto the SUV. Carrie hobbled up as fast as she could to the Mustang. Behind her, the pilot was on the radio. He used his Federal credentials and called in every available ground and air medivac unit that was available.
She grasped the passenger door and it opened. Glancing in, she saw the blood streaming down Mikes head and Sarah's bruised and bloodied body.
"Oh my God…" she whispered in horror. She reached over and felt for the pulse of life on each of them. To her utter relief, she found them. They were still alive…for now.
"My fault… my fault… it was my fault… my fault…" she heard KITT repeat.
"KITT? Slow down, okay?" she said in a gentle voice. "Tell me what happened."
In a voice unlike his normally calm and collected person, KITT related the tragic events that had led up to the present time. She was still talking and trying desperately to prevent KITT from self-termination when a convoy of Sheriff Deputies, ambulances and air medivac helicopters descended on the scene.
Agent Johnson supervised the medical crews. When they removed James, he miraculously cracked open his eyes. In a pain-filled grimace, he gasped, "This doesn't change anything."
Johnson looked in close. "Wanna bet?" he growled, snapping on handcuffs and escorting James to the nearest ambulance.
Sarah sat with her hands folded in her wheelchair in the comforting shade of a large tree. The sky was a bright blue and the sun lit the graveyard with a comforting warmness. A gentle breeze ruffled the tree's leaves, the rustling sound a gentle kindness to soothe the turmoil in her soul. Specks of light filtered through the tree, the rays sometimes glancing off the steel on her wheelchair. Her face was a mass of cuts, bruises and scratches. Her right shoulder was in a sling and it would be a while before she could walk properly again. But she had been the luckiest of everyone. Sarah wasn't sure why she was here, but with both Mike and Charles in comas, she knew she had to come. Someone had to come and say goodbye to Mike's mom, and wish her Godspeed on her journey to the other side. Another lifetime ago, Jennifer Traceur had been as much Mike's mom as she had hers. In that time, she had been a mother in the truest sense of the word. Many people called themselves 'mom', but she had lived it…right up to when she threw herself in front of the bullet meant for her son. She stared at the casket that, in her eyes, held a hero. Sara wasn't sure if she was courageous enough to do what she had done. She had never had a chance to thank Mike's mom, for raising a son who had been willing to risk his life for hers. In the end, Mike had done the right thing and helped her through the dangerous journey at great peril to himself. If someone such as he, whom she had not seen her for so many years, had thrown himself in harms way to protect her and her dad, it spoke volumes about his mother.
She supposed that thought would be her personal epitaph for Jennifer Traceur.
Sarah's gaze wandered over at the vast graveyard to the shiny Mustang Shelby, which sat in the distance. She had been told that KITT had followed the ambulance to the hospital, then sat there and would not be moved. Ever since then, the young AI had not let her out of his sensor range, and that gave her comfort. The soft footsteps in the grass alerted her as someone approached. She kept her eyes downcast and hoped no one wanted to talk to her. She wouldn't know what to say. She wasn't sure what comfort she could provide when she herself barely survived, and the fact that those she cared about were a world away in hospitals, laid up in serious condition, put a heavy burden on her own spirit.
"Hi," a deep baritone, but pleasant voice greeted her. Sarah look up…and up into the tall gaze of the man standing beside her. He stood far enough so that he was not violating her personal space, but close enough to make it personal. He had a mop of neat, curly brown hair and a strong jaw, but his face was lined with age.
The man reached up and removed his dark glasses. Light blue eyes peered at her, and Sarah felt the surreal sensation of his gaze boring into her soul. His gaze wandered off to the flower-adorned casket sitting in the sun. The light shone brilliantly on the expensive finish of the wood.
"I don't know if you remember me. When I last saw you, you were this tall," he held his hands to a height just under the top of her wheelchair's wheel. "My name is Michael--" Sarah was surprised to hear the catch in his throat. She looked up to see him swallow with difficulty.
"—Michael Knight," he finished. He glanced at her again. "I'm Mike's father."
Her eyes widened in surprised. She felt a whole cascade of emotions run through her body. She was surprised that he had even come to the funeral. Mike had rarely, if ever, spoken of his dad. And when he did, it was never really pleasant. Sarah was also shocked. From Mike's descriptions, she had always pictured him as a mean, vindictive man who took great pleasure in sending his son far away from him and his mom. And Sarah was angry at Michael Knight, for putting Mike through all the hardships in his life, from the boarding school, to letting him enlist in the army. Mike had spent most of his adult life deprived of both his parents, and for that she hated him. And yet, looking at the man beside her, she could see his face. And in his eyes Sara could see a deep pool of pain, suffering, great sadness, and helplessness. It was a whirlwind of emotion that stabbed deep into her heart. All the surprise, shock, and anger she felt evaporated in the sea of emotions she felt coming off this man.
Michael Knight looked down and played with the glasses he held in his large hands. The grief she could see in his face was nearly unbearable. In a heartbeat, Sara knew that this was not a vindictive man who punished his only child for no reason. This was not a man who angered easy and tore his family apart. This was a man who was suffering a large burden, and he suffered stoically in silence.
"Are you alright?" Sarah ventured to ask.
Michael Knight's gaze never wavered from the casket. "No. No, I don't think I'll be alright for a long time."
Sarah opened her mouth to say something of comfort, but such pain wasn't easily healed by mere words. Instead, she chose to remain silent, standing beside him in silent vigil. Finally, without anything coming to mind, Sarah said the only thing she knew to say in situations as this. It was contrite, it was generic, but somehow, she knew it was okay to say it.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Michael glanced at her, and then smiled gratefully. He resumed his silent watch on the casket.
"You know, I was standing by to say goodbye by myself," Michael started. He quickly raised a finger to wipe a way a tear. "But I realized that I had said goodbye a long time ago."
Sarah took it in. Mike wasn't here, but she felt that perhaps she should speak for him. "Mike…always felt that he had been horrible to her. He said he blamed her for everything."
Michael nodded slowly. "She did a good job raising him. It couldn't have been easy."
It was Sarah's turn to nod. "It wasn't. For either one of them."
Michael accepted that. "She loved him…from the very first day."
"In the end, he loved her too," she added.
He said nothing, but though his expressions was sad, he look bolstered from the fact that his son, despite all that had happened, all that had been said, loved his mom in the end. No one should die alone, and it was some comfort that Jennifer was in good company at the end.
The burning question came to the top of Sarah's mind. The elephant standing beside them made a loud noise. So she asked, "But… why did you all leave him?"
Michael glanced at her again, then turned his gaze back to the casket. Her question was asked in neither anger nor vindictiveness. Instead, it was asked because an answer was desperately needed. He nodded. Sarah heard him take a deep breath. "Twenty five years ago, there was a man named Wilton Knight, who on his death bed, told me that one man…one person can make a difference."
He turned to regard Sarah seriously. "I was that man."
"Together I and a few others set out to make that difference. And we did, for many years." He took a ragged breath. "But all good things must come to an end. The organization we worked for was called FLAG: The Foundation For Law And Government. Though we were never officially sanctioned by the government, we had some very strong ties to several Federal Enforcement Agencies. Our role was to operate in areas where criminals operated above the law."
Michael took another ragged breath. "FLAG brought down some of the most notorious criminals and criminal organizations of our time. We made a difference, but in the end, we also paid a high price for our arrogance." He let out a pent-up breath and sadly shook his head. "People can become compliant, believing in the old fairy tale that Good Will Overcome All. After our successes, we began to believe it too. That was our mistake. Our downfall. We realized, too late, that the world is far uglier than we give it credit for. You see, when good overcomes, evil fights back. People fought back. Several powerful criminal organizations, cartels, black marketers, drug lords, slave runners, corrupt politicians, even some of our own government who believed FLAG's interests were in violation of their own, had all formed an alliance and fought for their right to exist. Devon Miles was the head of our organization, except he was more than that. He was our boss, our leader, and a father to us all. He was assassinated, and we were powerless to stop it from happening."
His eyes rested on the shining casket. "Along with some good cops, we brought down many of the people responsible, but in doing so, we realized just how perilous our lives were. We were being hunted, and the only choice we had was to scatter, to develop new identities for all of us, and hope that our trails would go cold."
He looked down and Sarah saw teardrops form on the dark glasses he carried. "It was the hardest thing any of us had to do in our entire lives."
Sarah placed a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry about your loss."
Michael looked over and took comfort in the sincere warmth that she exuded. "Thank you."
Sarah looked down, then back at him. "So, what happens now?"
"Now? You move forward. KITT will begin his program with the FBI. I know he will do well. What we did at FLAG kept us awake at nights. We never had the official backing of the FBI or any government agency. Having such Executive authority should protect KITT from a lot of reprisals."
She nodded. "What about me?"
Michael steadily regarded her. "What would you like to do?"
She swallowed with difficulty. She instinctively knew that anything she asked Michael Knight would be made policy. If she asked to be KITT's operator, she would be enrolled into the FBI academy and be given special training to become an effective Agent. She had no doubt of it. And yet…
She remembered when Mike had pulled the trigger on his gun and killed that person in cold blood. She remembered the look in his eyes. They were cold, deadly, and devoid of life. He hadn't even hesitated when pulling the trigger. It was a decision made in an instant – him, or the other man. Back then, she had felt something die inside her when she saw him put a bullet in the man and end a human life. But now, in retrospect, she wasn't sure if her anger had been justified. The men had killed Mike's mom. But more than that, they had showed intent to use lethal force against them all. Killing all of them was not something that would have given them any hesitation. They had been the enemy, and their goals had been to kill them. In essence, Mike had eliminated one less person behind his back that may have killed him later. He had shot him in cold blood, yes, but it had been to prevent an armed or potentially armed enemy at his back.
Sarah didn't know if she was ready to lose more of herself, her innocence, and her ignorance about the black world that existed outside of the one she knew. Quite frankly, what little she had experienced terrified her.
"I…I really love what I do. I don't think I'm cut out for all this…" she replied. She was a little surprised at how hard that was to say. As she said it, a flash of guilt erupted in Sarah. It threatened to consume her. Mike, Charles, Jennifer, they had all given so much. What had she done…??
Her thoughts jolted to a halt as she felt a warm hand grip her shoulder. "Don't feel guilty. This shadowy world that lurks beneath the surface of the real world is dark and deep. I do not blame you for not wanting to be a part of it. No one does. Believe me. I'm actually relieved you don't want to be part of it. But I do know someone who will be involved. And I have it on good authority that that someone has developed a fondness for you, and is hoping for a hand in friendship."
Sarah blinked in surprise. "KITT?"
Michael nodded.
"Of course!" she stated, shocked that he would think otherwise.
He smiled gently. "Good. KITT may get a partner, a new operator, but you will always be one of his first friends, and he will need that friendship if he's to grow. I think you're the perfect person for that. Whatever anyone says, you're a good person through and through Sarah Graiman. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise."
He put on his dark glasses and held out his hand. Sarah reached over and warmly shook it. "If you ever need anythinghave KITT contact me. He'll know how." He gave a brilliant smile that was full of reassurance before turning around and walking away.
Sarah reached the shiny Shelby Mustang. The driver's side door automatically opened. She smiled as Carrie helped her out of the wheel chair and placed her in the driver's seat, leaving her feet hanging out. She walked away and gave them some privacy.
"How are you Sarah?"
She smiled sadly. "I just met a man named Michael Knight. He was Mike's father."
"I know. He was my…operator's predecessor."
Anyone who had met KITT would not have caught that little glitch in his speech pattern, but Sarah did.
She got a sudden lump in her throat, and it made it very difficult to talk. "KITT…I'm sorry," she apologized. "I…I don't think I can be your Operator. I…"
"Sarah, I understand. Though I am saddened, I do know that becoming my partner would require jumping into a lake without testing the water?"
Sarah laughed heartily at his humour, though the timing sucked. The laughter reduced to giggles, then, to KITT's horror, Sarah began sobbing. As she tried to stop the flow of tears tracking down her cheeks, KITT began profusely apologizing.
Sarah felt all the events finally catch up to her. Her life had been turned upside down. She had gone from being a biorobotics scientist one day to becoming one of the most hunted people in the world the next. It had only been three days – three days since people had tried to abduct her multiple times at gunpoint, shot at her, chased her, and nearly killed her. And for what? So that someone, somewhere could take a great invention that would save thousands of lives and instead use it to kill those very same lives. Now, the FBI would erase her previous identity. Sara Graiman would no longer exist. She would have a new identity and be placed in another university far, far away. She couldn't even tell Brock where she was going, even though he deserved to know. It was just too dangerous, for her and for him. Nothing could be brought with her, not even her faithful golden retriever Lucky. Her father and Mike had been moved to a secret FBI hospital, the location unknown to even her for security reasons. It tore her heart to pieces.
'You move forward,' Michael Knight had said. She cried in despair. Mike and her dad's injuries were so severe; the doctors had told her that their chances of waking from their comas were slim to none. Her life had been torn apart with no recourse. Brock and Lucky would never know what happened to her. What would happen to Lucky - that happy, go-lucky golden retriever who always ran up to her, thumping her tail madly, licking her face until she had to hold her back while laughing happily, would never see her playmate again. Why didn't Michael tell her how to move on?
It was a lot to take in. She wasn't doing very well.
Sarah heard a familiar sound. She turned around in surprise to see a black Trans-Am make its way through another exit. The black car shone with a mirror-like polish that was very familiar to her. She could just make out the license plate.
The name said: KNIGHT
The passenger door opened and Carrie peeked her head in. Sarah wiped at her tears as KITT quieted. Looking at her sympathetically, Carrie asked, "Are you ready?" Sarah slowly nodded.
On the outskirts of the city, a black Mustang Shelby raced through the streets. Four police cars chased it, their strobe lights flashing as they tried to corral the speeding vehicle. Ahead, a railway crossing lowered and the red lights turned on. The Shelby seemed to slow as the big locomotive bore down on the crossing. Suddenly, the black sports car sped up. It smashed through the thin crossing arm and onto the track. The locomotive tore into the car at a breakneck speed, sundering it down the middle. It exploded, sending many pieces of the Mustang flying away in flames. The wheels on the locomotive locked up in an effort to stop. It would take the train many long minutes to halt its immense momentum. In the mean time, pieces of the Mustang Shelby burnt brightly in the twilight. Officers exited their cars and desperately searched for the driver. They found a human body, possibly female, burnt beyond recognition. The entire scene was filmed by a news chopper.
Traffic slowed to a crawl as a multitude of commuters gazed upon the tragic accident. Cars began jamming the road as the onlookers watched the officers scramble among the wreckage – except one. A silver Audi slowly pulled away from the scene and drove off into the dark night.
Sarah Graiman had just been erased. To all concerned, she was a woman who no longer existed.
THE END