Homeland Conspiracy: The Dark Stalker Journal

Homeland Conspiracy: The Dark Stalker Journal

by N. Morrison Byron N. Morrison
Homeland Conspiracy: The Dark Stalker Journal

Homeland Conspiracy: The Dark Stalker Journal

by N. Morrison Byron N. Morrison

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Overview

Among the ranks, the secrecy of the Dark Stalker's main communications hub, CONTROL, has had its trustworthiness brought into question as troops are sent to Max Jordan's home in search of a witness who knows about the high corruption within the preternatural World Government. Meanwhile, the same World Government is being lulled into believing all things are falling into place regarding the policing of the preternatural society, allowing unsupervised power and authority to a rogue commander who has been enlisting individuals for a "secret government project" who then are never seen again. Commander Michael Trevor has his focus set on Max Jordan who wants no part of it, but due to unforeseen events, he is given the choice of either keeping the witness safe or submitting to the commander's authority. The additional stress becomes more than Max can handle, which gives his own inner darkness the opportunity to finally wrench control from him and seemingly slaughter indiscriminately when dealing with unnatural beings. While the darkness is in control, no one around Max is completely safe, friend or foe.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781450231312
Publisher: iUniverse, Incorporated
Publication date: 06/01/2010
Pages: 360
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.80(d)

About the Author

Writing has been a passion for Byron Morrison for a long time. His favorite authors are R.A. Salvatore, Robert Jordan, and Anne Rice. He's been a resident of Reading, Pennsylvania, for most of his life. This is his first novel.

Read an Excerpt

Homeland Conspiracy

The Dark Stalker Journal
By Byron N Morrison

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2010 Byron N Morrison
All right reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4502-3131-2


Chapter One

The smells of the air was a mixture of smoke from the burning fires in and around the building, tear gas which the SWAT team tried shooting into the building, spent ammunition, flash grenades, and a hint of natural gas which could prove dangerous. The entire block resembled a war zone with local and state police keeping the perimeter as Federal agents along with SWAT attempting to infiltrate the Courthouse in the center of Wilmington, Delaware. The authorities were in place waiting for this attack because of an anonymous tip and the trailing cities as far out as Pottsville, Lebanon and Lancaster which were hit at the same time of day. The anonymous tip was more of a puzzle than a solid lead since both Wilmington, DE and Newark, NJ were targets mentioned. This time we guessed correctly.

Along the front of the bank were cars in flames after being bombarded by police weapons' fire, and the retaliation of the terrorists who answered back against the local, state, and Federal law enforcement. The air was thick with smoke and fumes, fire and explosions with screams of pain, death and dying carried on the breeze. Bodies and body parts were being collected from the grizzly scene of this battle field which was all being recorded by the local news. We may have had this problem remedied if the information would've gotten to us sooner but the local law received the tip and when they needed help they called the stated police who then called the FBI. All of that manpower drew the attention to the correct people who then contacted us, finally. The only good thing from all of this mess is most of the terrorists were contained within the building though several managed to slip away, according to reports, down into the sewers.

The ST-51 aircraft hovered above the building as my team and I repelled down to the roof. Dax set charges on the hinges and the latch of the door then moved to the side of the entranceway. The man was one of the most knowledgeable nerds I've ever known, and very adept with his placement of the explosives.

A simultaneous and muffled explosion accompanied each hinge and door latch as they burst into red hot shards of metal and sparks allowing quick removal of the heavy, metal door. Switch then went to work and dropped a spell of Temporary Silence around our group along with a spell of Blending to ensure a stealthy entrance into the Court House. He had to drop the spells around us because those spells would've concealed everyone but me, spells and 'magic' are disrupted if it is used directly on me. Each spell only took a second to initiate but both sent chills up my spine because I can feel any strong flows of out worldly energy.

My DS2, Khay, moved with the grace of an angry jungle cat as I watched her stalk down the stairs into the darkness moments before the rest of us followed; at my height of 5'8 1/2" I tower over her 5' 1" frame. And though her skin was fairer than my brown skin, when the Blending spell took effect it rendered her virtually invisible whereas the rest of the team were more cloaked from any prying eyes outside of the circle. We maintained radio silence with the only communication happening after clearing a level, but my team and I were thoroughly briefed on the layout of the building and were prepared well to take these guys down with minimal effort, so we thought. If all had gone to plan these terrorists wouldn't have known what hit them, but of course there was always a catch.

We were a Dark Stalker strike team, designated Omega. We wouldn't have been called in unless these terrorists were more than the ordinary thieving, murderous scum on some kind of power trip or planning to ransom hostages' lives for a million billion dollars. Showing up on our radar, these guys must be some bad mothers who didn't care who knew about mystical beings, without any fear of taking lives or losing their own and with little to no regard to the destruction of property. They have to be preternatural beings.

We rotated through point position, moving counter clockwise as each area was cleared. The plan was to move down where the renegades are believed to be. The upper floors were smoky but the fires hadn't reached this area so I slipped on my mask to filter the toxic air whereas those before had already done so. Our Dark Vision goggles employ ultraviolet technology to see through the darkness and smoke since both blanketed the rooms. Although I was ready to engage I wished I knew what flavor of preternatural beings was in the building.

As we moved further into the building and the smoke grew thicker, even with the goggles, visibility became difficult. I thought to tell Switch to create some kind of vacuum air spell, but it would have given away our position if the terrorists had been watching, although sooner or later we would run into the bad guys anyway. I shook the thought from my mind and continued sweeping the area for signs of the enemy. It didn't take long to make first contact with our opponents.

The problem with having Switch surrounding us in his spell is anyone walking into our area would see us, hence the two red beams appearing on my chest. It caused all the adrenaline in my system to spike my heart rate, tense my muscles and heightened my senses. It was then I realized bullets travelled faster than the speed of sound as I actually watched two metal projectiles racing toward me with the ignited flames still bright in their wake. Something took over when my adrenaline spiked as it had since my young teenage years to keep me from fatal harm, not knowing how to control it I went with it. I'm still not sure if I shifted into some kind of hyper state of existence or if everything around me slowed but one thing was certain, I was watching bullets move toward me when they should've already be hit my vest.

As soon as I moved out of harm's way everything resumed its normality; the bullets imbedded themselves into the wall behind me, the sound of gunfire was heard and my team scrambled to take out the primary target. A secondary target presented itself in the form of an acrobatic leaping from wall to desk, desk to ceiling, and ceiling to floor, firing a large caliber weapon throughout the journey. I touched my earpiece.

"DS2, handle the secondary target. DS3, take out the primary." The spell of Blending was dispelled under preplanned orders since the weapons fire would alert the other terrorists, it allowed me to get a glimpse of Khay, my DS2, sparkling before switching into her onyx form. She matched the acrobatic terrorist even while dodging his gunfire and then she lashed out with her own weapon, a long whip-like silver cord, taking the weapon out of her assailant's hand.

Switch and I were moving into the next area as I watched Dax, my DS3 use a telekinetic push to drive the reappearing form of the primary target into, and nearly through a cement wall. Dax was a strong psy, telekinetic, but not highly skilled so when he focused on a target, they usually got hurt badly. The primary must have been a psy since a witch using a spell would still be invisible while a psy would need to keep a measure of concentration in play, like balancing something during an activity.

The next area had an elevator with a stairwell to the right side, I cleared it and Switch went through. As I did something slammed into the wall behind me and as I turned I saw the body of the secondary target sliding down the wall and Khay's leaping onto him slicing his throat. She stayed in her onyx form and followed me into the stairwell with Dax covering her transition.

We still weren't sure how many terrorists remained though the best guesses of the FEDs were twenty or so, including those who escaped. For unknown reasons most of them had been congregated on the tenth floor, our target area. In addition, it was peculiar we hadn't run into any more resistance on our way down to the tenth floor which was fine by me.

Switch moved through the tenth floor door when someone called out, "Agents!" 'Agents'? What, do they think this is a movie? Everyone in the room scattered while the blazing of heavy weapons' fire lit the thickly smoked room. Khay dove into the center of the corridor with heavy, throwing knives flying in every direction. Moments later the only weapons fire was from Switch or Dax; for some reason I hadn't opened fire. My Precognition must have unconsciously informed me it would be over in moments.

"What just happened?" I could barely see through the black smoke and the only sound I heard was the noise from the streets outside.

"I think she killed the bad guys." Switch's voice was muffled due from his mask but the contempt in his voice was still apparent because his opinion of Khay was she wasn't to be trusted.

"DS3," I said through my mask. "Why did you kill them all? We need to interrogate to find out what the hell they were looking for."

I watched Khay, she was little more than a five feet tall figure, nearly invisible with the smoky backdrop but walking into the toxic clouds she became totally invisible though her follow up actions let me know I'd spoken too soon. Within the smoke and gas someone grunted and began raising a commotion for Khay to get her 'filthy hands' off of him. A few seconds after hearing the familiar click of our special cuffs being attached, Khay walked out of the smoke no longer in her dark form, carrying a dark clothed, helmeted person who had a heavy silver knife embedded deep in his spine paralyzing him from the waist down. She threw the person to the ground in front of me.

"This one is not dead ... by choice." She was flat with her statement, not angry, not anything, just flat and emotionless.

"Uhm, ok. Thank you." I turned away and tapped my earpiece. "Home Base, main objective achieved. Tenth floor taken, send in the sweeper team. One hostile taken."

"Good job Omega, confirm hostile an innocent or preter then return. Sending DS sweeper team now."

"Copy that Base." The annoying static sound crackled in the earpiece when Home Base signed off. "You heard Control. Take the helmet off of this clown."

"Go to hell, damned Agents. I don't have the information you're looking for so piss off. We just covered the Captain's escape." This guy must have been new; running his mouth and giving us intelligence without even asking.

"Ok buddy, Dax, be ready to fry his brain. Khay, will you please take off his helmet so we can hear what he has to say a little better."

"NO!" But it was too late. Khay had the helmet pulled above his chin when a small charge exploded inside the helmet. My team hovered as smoke rolled from underneath the terrorist's helmet. His body slumped and fell as his helmeted head which Khay still held bounced to the ground after she dropped it.

"These were my new boots." Khay complained in a monotone voice while staring at her brain matter splattered boots.

"Way to go Max. What's up with that fancy super danger sense of yours?" Switch was teasing but I should've been more careful. He is 6'8", about a foot taller than I. I hate looking up to him just to tell him to shut up but ...

"Stuff it Switch. Khay, I don't suppose you left any other terrorists alive?" She shrugged her shoulders. "No, I didn't think so. Omega to Base, we lost our guy. His gear was rigged."

"Not good Omega." There was a brief pause in the transmission before a further reply came back introduced by the annoying crackle. "The Pentagon reps want you personally to bring in the body. Get that body back here by order of Representative Douglas."

"Yeah, I figured that, Omega out. Omegas, stay with the Sweepers, make sure this place is clear. I have to deal with Mr. Sally and his jackass partner. I'll take this body with me."

* * *

Back at the Home Base I was met by a severely irritated Pentagon representative, Almanzo Douglas, along with his calmer and sedate senior partner Nick Sally. Mr. Sally strolled towards me while his counterpart stalked toward me like a bulldog foaming at the mouth and teeth bare. I've known Mr. Sally for only a few months and he's proven himself to be a fair and thoughtful man, knowing when to speak, when to keep his mouth closed, and when to walk away where as his partner has shown himself to be boisterous and a bully on a power trip.

"How the hell did you lose the only survivor of that raid?" Douglas was coming dangerously close to being within striking distance especially with him spitting the shit he's talking.

"The vics helmet was rigged with a small explosive ..."

"You damn slacker, we can't trust you to get anything done without screwing everything up. You're like a bull in a china shop."

"Hey Douglas ..."

"What?"

"Why don't you sit down and have a tall glass of Shut-the-fuck-up!"

"That's enough gentlemen." Mr. Sally kept a calm voice. "Where is the rest of your team?"

"At the scene with the sweep team." I knew what he was getting at.

"Why are you here? You should be at the scene helping with the sweep team, securing the building."

"I was told to bring the body in personally."

"And who gave that order?" I think Mr. Sally was becoming upset. He wasn't having a good day.

"The person standing in front of me did." Douglas' eyes lowered to the floor as I spoke. I could feel the heat of Mr. Sally's beaming eyes on Douglas' back.

"What were you thinking Almanzo? You could have compromised the operation or gotten someone killed!"

"He said he completed the mission. I took it as he was finished with the sweep also." Douglas said as he tried to weasel his way out of trouble.

"Mr. Jordan, did you specify you still needed to complete the sweep?"

"Yes." After my answer Mr. Sally started berating his partner and Douglas tried to defend himself. They were arguing for five minutes or so when Jasmine, the manager from the front office paged me on my Comm-link.

"What do you need sweetie?" I replied.

"I'm not your sweetie. You have an urgent call from Langley. A man named, Richie Ortega from the CIA says he has an emergency situation."

"I'll be out in a minute." Douglas and Mr. Sally were still arguing when I left the area but Douglas sounded like he was making some headway in his argument.

"What's going on Richie?" Jasmine said my call was holding on line one so I took it in one of the empty offices.

"Max! You gotta come get me! They're after me! They're tryin' to kill me!" He was frantic and tense and was terrified. I needed to find out where he was.

"Ok Richie, calm down. What's going on?"

"I can't tell you now, there's no time. Meet me in the Richmond, Virginia bus terminal. I'll be there in two hours, don't be late. I'll tell you everything then. I gotta go, they're here." I heard some men yelling and a scuffling sound before Richie ended the conversation. I left the office calling to its Manager.

"Jasmine! I need a transport to take me and my truck to Virginia."

"There is a HST-51 fueled up at the airport that can be on the roof in five minutes." She replied so quickly I thought she was listening to my conversation. She probably was.

"Good. Let the rest of the Omegas know I'll be in touch in a few hours." Jasmine nodded and then I turned away to exit the room.

Chapter Two

Zero-one hundred hours was the time, 1am. The bus terminal was brightly lit but the night outside was dark and the sky was starry. The terminal was full of people who were active and moving around so much if not for the darkness outside one may never have known it was so early in the morning. Some of the venders were still offering food and drink while others actively offered magazines and newspapers to several of the travelers in the station. Some of the folks were sitting calmly waiting for their bus while others were agitated, pacing or fidgeting as they waited for their buses, which were obviously off schedule or just plain late. A few of the people looked miserable.

I sat on one of the benches waiting for my contact to arrive and admittedly I was peeved about waiting, as many others were. The schedule showed arrival time at 12:45am, but the status column of the display monitor showed 2am which offended my sense of order. Arguably, I wasn't always the timeliest person but if I was going to be nearly two hours late I'd let everyone know in advance.

While I waited, a young woman sitting next to me asked for the time.

"Zero-one hundred hours," I said. She shot me a very confused look.

(Continues...)



Excerpted from Homeland Conspiracy by Byron N Morrison Copyright © 2010 by Byron N Morrison. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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