Page 26 of So Lethal (Faith Bold #22)
“Look on the bright side, David. If you fuck up, you won’t have to hear Steward nag you anymore.”
Captain David Harrison grinned at the testing booth and gave Captain Jeremy Fuller his finest one-fingered salute. Laughter echoed through his radio, and Jeremy said, “I appreciate the offer, but there’s no way you last the night with me.”
“Who said I needed the whole night?” David replied.
“Cut it out, you two,” Major Adam Steward snapped.
David grimaced as he realized their boss probably heard them ragging on him a moment ago. “Yes, sir.” He cleared his throat. “Power is nominal, temperature is a little elevated but still inside the green. Target is prepared, and unless Captain Fuller has any objections, we are a go for this test.”
“Roger that. Test commences in thirty seconds.”
“Thirty seconds heard,” David replied.
He scrolled through the systems menu of the Mk 1440 acoustic crowd dispersal unit.
The Army, in light of recent very unfortunate mistakes during civilian protests in Afghanistan, had recognized the need for a less lethal option for crowd dispersal when the safety of American servicemembers wasn’t believed to be in danger.
After several years of the usual proposing, bidding, haggling, and compromising, the Pentagon had finally selected a manufacturer and that manufacturer had finally delivered a working prototype.
And so far, it worked well. Preliminary tests showed significant improvement over previous-generation acoustic weapons, particularly in the targeting arena. It wouldn’t be helpful to the Army if they deafened their own soldiers along with the enemy.
This was their first test on living things.
Well, not actually living things since the modern era frowned upon indiscriminate massacre of animals.
However, David was assured that the dummies arrayed in front of him were fitted with membranes that functioned exactly as a human eardrum would.
These would—it was claimed—measure the damage a sound wave would do to a human eardrum and thus let them know if their weapon was effective.
“Okay,” David said. “Time is up, green means go, and I am going to let her rip.”
Jeremy chuckled. Steward sighed and lamented, “There was a day when officers were actually professional.”
David grinned and pressed the proverbial big green button, in this case just a lit portion of the new state-of-the-art LED touchscreen.
The machine whined as it powered up. It’s targeting software identified the dummies by their transponders. This had been programmed prior to testing to ensure the machine would actually identify them as targets and not dismiss them as inanimate objects.
The machine focused on them and offered David a five-second window to abort the command.
David didn’t abort the command. He watched the numbers count down, and when they hit zero, he grinned at the mannequins.
“David!” Jeremy shrieked. “Abort! Abort now!”
David frowned down at the screen. The temperature was no longer slightly elevated. It was a lot elevated. He swore and reached for the stop button.
Then his head exploded.
***
The killer stared at the medals displayed in a glass-covered teak case above his dresser. A Purple Heart. A unit citation. A Meritorious Service award. A few other doodads which were given to everyone who didn’t die or piss off the unit CO.
The one he fixated on was the Distinguished Service Medal. Officially, he earned it for sacrificing his health to advance the science of warfare. Unofficially, the Army gave it to him so he wouldn’t sue them.
Not that the killer planned to sue the Army. Of course, they weren't blameless, but it wasn't his place to administer judgment. That was for God. His job was to fulfill his penance by suffering from soundlessness while liberating those afflicted with it through no fault of their own.
The enemy had nearly stopped him. It was his fault.
He had wanted the world to understand that he was liberating the people he killed, not murdering them.
That was only his pride. God had warned him of that by sending the woman and her dog so he would understand that by focusing on his pride, he would only earn more judgment.
Now, he would suffer more. It was only a matter of time before the FBI found out who he was, and when they did, they would come looking for him here. He needed to hide.
The killer looked around his house. He wouldn’t miss it terribly. It was, after all, only a place to rest. One skill he had retained from the army was the ability to rest anywhere.
He knew where he would rest. It was fitting that he should return to the place where God first showed Himself.
The FBI wouldn't follow him there. They didn't know where it was.
No one knew where it was except for Jeremy and Steward.
Steward would die before betraying the Army, and Jeremy was probably close to death himself, considering how serious his drinking habit became after the accident.
It would be a reminder of his purpose and a reminder to let go of his pride.
The killer left the medals. They were symbols of pride as well, even if they were obviously false symbols. He didn’t need them.
He picked up his sleeping bag, his suitcase—which contained clothing and basic necessities and nothing else—and his amplifier. Thank God he’d made a spare.
The only other things he needed were already in the car. The laptop contained the files on its hard drive. The tourniquet was still the best way to liberate people without risking their escape.
He had hoped to liberate someone else tonight, but plans had changed. He needed to flee before the FBI prevented him from continuing his work.
He loaded the suitcase, sleeping bag, and amplifier into the back of his SUV.
He got in the driver’s seat and started the engine.
The old gas motor rumbled comfortingly, the vibrations traveling through the seat up his spine and through the floor into his legs.
He took a moment to savor those sensations, then put the SUV in gear and left the home in which he had lived for the past fourteen years.
He didn’t look back.