Chapter 16 - The Broken Slate
Julian didn't feel the cold anymore. He didn't feel the deep stab wound in his thigh or the throbbing ache in his left arm.
The terror that had driven him through the coal chute and down the river collapsed, replaced by a cold, clear, absolute clarity.
He looked at Maya in the dark. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the rugged USB drive, and pressed it into her palm.
"When I move," Julian whispered into her ear, his lips barely touching her skin, "you run up the south drain pipe. It leads behind the gas station on Route 9. Find a phone. Call the state trooper barracks in Montpelier. Ask for Captain Vance."
"Julian, no—"
"He doesn't want the drive," Julian rasped. "He wants me."
Before Maya could stop him, Julian jammed his thumb into his slate-wounded thigh, using the intense burst of adrenaline to propel his body out from under the boulder like a sprung trap.
He didn't go for Sterling’s gun. He lunged straight for the high-frequency acoustic emitter in Sterling’s left hand.
They hit the freezing creek water together with a massive splash.
Julian grabbed the plastic casing of the emitter, driving his forehead hard into Sterling’s nose. Glass shattered. Blood erupted from Sterling’s face, but the older man didn't drop his weapon. He brought the heavy steel butt of the suppressed pistol down across Julian’s injured shoulder.
A sickening CRACK echoed through the ravine.
Julian’s left collarbone snapped like a dry twig. A scream tore from his throat, but he kept his right hand locked onto the emitter’s frequency dial, spinning it all the way to the maximum gain threshold—one hundred and twenty decibels at four hertz.
The emitter let out an ultra-low frequency pulse that tore through the air like an invisible shockwave.
The water around their legs rippled violently, forming geometric standing waves on the surface.
Sterling gasped, his eyes rolling back as his own inner ear was blasted by the lethal infrasound pulse. He stumbled backward, losing his balance in the fast current, dropping the 9mm pistol into the deep water.
Julian didn't wait for him to recover. He grabbed the heavy emitter, raised it above his head with his one good arm, and smashed it down onto the granite boulder with everything he had left.
Plastic and circuit boards exploded into a shower of sparks and black smoke.
The frequency died instantly. The woods went dead silent, save for the sound of the rain and Sterling’s ragged, bloody gasps as he lay on his back in the shallow gravel.
Julian stood over him, panting, his left arm hanging completely useless at his side, his face covered in soot, blood, and rain.
Sterling spat a mouthful of dark blood into the river, looking up at Julian with a twisted, manic grin through his broken glasses.
"It doesn't matter, Julian," Sterling wheezed, his chest heaving. "The automated system at the clinic is set on a timer. If my biometric thumbprint isn't scanned at the main door by 5:30 AM... the gas valves in Room 4 open automatically."
Julian looked up at the highway.
The dashboard clock in Sterling’s idling F-250 glowing red on the ridge read 4:18 AM.
Seventy-two minutes.
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Julian reached down, grabbed Sterling by his heavy wool lapels with his right hand, and dragged him up the muddy slope toward the idling truck.
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