Larken Rose - The Iron Web

THE IRON WEB

Larken Rose

Copyright 2009 Larken Rose

All rights reserved.

Print Edition ISBN 978-1-60743-732-1

Special thanks to my wife, Tessa, for her extensive help on this book, as a co-author as much as an editor.

This book is dedicated to my daughter, Elyssa Layne Rose; may she live to see a better world.

JESSICA Carlisle was shocked into consciousness when her radio came on suddenly, her dreams interrupted by a reporters phony voice in mid-sentence: ... into its third week, with no apparent progress toward a peaceful resolution. Her hand instinctively swung from under the covers, landing on the snooze button, returning her room to relative silence. For the next few minutes, the tiny hint of consciousness in Jessicas mind struggled to achieve full wakefulness.

Its your big day, Munchkin, came her fathers voice from the hall, followed by a knock on her door. Get a move on.

Thats right, Im leaving on my trip today, Jessica thought, opening her eyes a crack. Im up, Im up, was her groggy reply, followed by a muttered, sort of. Her mind reviewed the morning agenda she had planned the night before: finish packing by 8:00, leave for the airport at 8:20, get there by 9:00, and make it through all the checking in and boarding stuff in time for her flight to leave at 11:09. She fully opened her eyes to the familiar sight of her hamster, Brutus, in his cage next to her bed, doing his usual morning mad dash to nowhere on his little wheel. Good morning, little beastie, she said to him. Ill miss you. Ill remind the retard again about feeding you. Brutus continued running as if she hadnt spoken.

She managed to throw off her covers, sit up and swing her feet off the bed onto the floor. Her grogginess was falling away as her excitement rose. In a few short hours, she would be on her way to California to meet her cousinthe relatively sane member of a weird familyfor their long-awaited camping trip near Sequoia National Park. Jessica had never really been camping before, not what she would consider real camping, out in the wild without any facilities. But shed slept outside and cooked outside before, and she didnt squeal in terror at the mere sight of a bug, like some of her school friends. She thought she could probably survive four days and three nights in the wilderness, if a clearing in the woods three miles from a motel could be considered wilderness. She and her cousin Peggy were going to roam the area, getting lost on purpose, and then find their way back to camp using the GPS that her father had just given her for Christmas. Other than being a little worried about meeting a bear in the wild, she expected the trip to be easy enough. She knew that not many of her friends would think of it as a great way to spend ones nineteenth birthday, but it had sounded like a fun adventure to her.

Her mom bustled in with a tray of breakfast, including toast, egg, and orange juice. Now hush up, she said immediately, before Jessica could protest. I know you stayed up too late last night and didnt leave time in your schedule for breakfast. But I want you to eat something. Just sit down for ten minutes and eat. Whats left to pack?

Just my bathroom stuff, after I use it. Jessica submitted gracefully to her mothers will and picked up the glass of juice. She hated eating breakfast, but she didnt want to argue this morning.

Well get everything else into the car, then, said her mom.

Jessica forced down half of the breakfast and put the tray aside. On her way to the bathroom, she stopped at her full-length mirror to survey herself. Shed showered the night before, to save time in the morning, and let her hair dry in bed. What she saw now was a huge, unruly mass of wavy, dark brown hair, with brown eyes barely peeking through, and a twisted tangle of baggy, red-and-white Snoopy pajamas. Got some room for improvement, I think, she muttered to herself, and hobbled toward the bathroom.

It took Jessica twenty minutes to transform herself into the perfect picture of a young American woman: the dark mass of hair tamed into sleek waves framing her slightly freckled face, and just enough makeup to accentuate her features. The Snoopy pajamas were discarded on the bathroom floor in favor of blue jeans and a pink sweater, which casually displayed the contours of a slender, athletic figure.

The cars warming up, Munchkin, her father called up the stairs.

Jessica threw on her fur-lined boots, hat, gloves, and coat, kissed her mother, grabbed her bag of bathroom stuff, and ran out to the car. All sleepiness was gone now, swept away by the biting January wind and the excitement of flying to California.

JASON Reilly peered through the scope, the image gradually becoming more and more steady, until the crosshairs rested solidly on the target: an empty .223 casing sitting atop a cardboard box fifty yards away. Jason felt his heart rate and respiration slow, and steadily increased pressure on the trigger. He always imagined the shot just as it should be, just before the gun fired. The quiet was shattered, and his M16 jumped from the blast. When the scope steadied again, the shell was nowhere to be seen.

Holy smokes, commented Miguel, a large, muscular man sitting in a folding chair nearby, looking downrange through binoculars. He actually did it.

I could do that, said a thinner man standing next to Miguel with his arms crossed, if I had a few tries. The second mans name was Mark, but he was generally called Red because of his curly heap of bright reddish-orange hair. Pale-skinned and freckled, he had the demeanor of a class clown with a streak of arrogance.

From prone, with a bipod, maybeif you had all day, answered Miguel, lowering the binoculars. But Jay here just did it in one shot from kneeling. Thats some serious marksmanship.

Yeah, but could you do that in the heat of battle? Red asked, walking up to Jason and giving him a thump on the back with a closed fist. Could you do it when it really counts?

Ow, said Jason, flipping the safety on. I hope I never have to.

Jason came from a long line of police officers, but he was the first in his family to become a federal agent. Although three of his grandparents were Irish, he favored his Italian grandmother with his straight, jet-black hair and olive skin. Some of his fellow agents had taken to calling him pretty boy because of his youthful good looks, especially the dark brown eyes framed by long, dark lashes that girls envied. Now even his brothers were calling him that, which annoyed him to no end.

Aw, wheres the fun in that? Red joked. What did you join the agency for, anyway, if not to take down some bad guys?

Pay no attention to mercenary man here, Jay, Miguel said. Hes a little overly eager when it comes to the idea of gunning people down.

Yeah, and you should be too, man! Those bastards killed one of our guysblasted his head clean off, I hearwith no warning! In this business, you hesitate, you die, man! Red aimed his own rifle downrange and peered through the scope.

Oh, like youd know. Youve been an agent for what, all of two weeks now? Miguel joked. My grandmother has more combat experience than you. Jason cracked a smile.

Yeah, well, now that were here in Graveston, all that is about to change, Red said, looking down at his own rifle, and Jason thought he detected a hint of nervousness on Reds face. Before you know it, well be mixin it up with the terrorists, showin em whos boss. For a moment, seeing the worry Red was trying to hide, Jason considered offering a word of comfort to him, but decided against it, doubting he would react well to it. Reds tough-guy act was a bit overdone and already wasnt very convincing. With badly feigned confidence, Red looked up and added, Im ready for whatever those wackos can dish out. He pulled the charging handle on his rifle back for dramatic effect, but let go too soon, causing a round to jam.