Scott Mariani - The Doomsday Prophecy

Then one day, Emily had announced to Joshua’s horror that she planned to organise a party at their home for all the first-year students. There was no way out of it, and Emily could be very forceful. It would have looked odd to protest.

The night of the party had been stormy and thundery. Joshua had been mixing himself a drink in the kitchen when he felt something brush his arm. James had crept up behind him. They’d kissed in the flash of the lightning from outside.

Joshua was smitten. After that first night they’d started meeting up in his car in the college parking lot. It was crazy, looking back. James had never gone all the way with him – always found a reason to get away when the petting got heavier. Joshua had taken to hanging around outside the student’s window at night, hoping for a glimpse of him, telling Emily he was working late.

One day, James wasn’t there any more. Joshua was told he’d transferred to UCLA. He never heard from him again.

But he’d had bigger concerns than a broken heart. The day after James’s disappearance, the devastating package had arrived in the mail. The photos were crisp and the faces unmistakable. The note was short and to the point. The doctor would be contacted and his co-operation appreciated.

At first Joshua had felt compelled to explain everything to Emily. She’d understand. But then he realised that no, Emily would not understand. Emily would flip. She’d leave him, take away his beautiful daughters. He’d lose his home. His parents would be mortified beyond words. Then, no doubt, the pictures would find their way under the noses of his employers at the university. His teaching career would be over, and the scandal would be sure to wreck his private practice too.

It had been a few weeks before he’d been contacted again. The phone call had lasted twenty minutes and the instructions had been clear. He’d said to Emily he was going away to a seminar. Someone had dropped out at the last minute and he was needed.

That was the start of quite a few unexpected seminars that took Joshua away from home for weeks at a time. He never really knew who his employers were. The money was generous, and he tried not to think too much about what they were making him do.

The sessions took place in anonymous grey buildings across the country. It was always more or less the same. A car would pick him up at the airport. The men in suits would drive him in silence and he’d be ushered to some quiet, empty room where the subjects were being held. Some of the experimental behaviour modification programmes involved weird pharmaceuticals and brainwashing techniques. Joshua was required to evaluate subjects’ state of mind, conduct tests, administer treatments that he’d never even heard of before. He never knew who the men were. He tried to persuade himself all this must be in the interests of his country. But sometimes at night he’d wake up covered in sweat at the memory of the things he’d seen and helped carry out.

Once or twice he’d tried to break away. Then out came the photos again, and the threats.

But this time was different. This was worse. The approach had come through a different channel. The place he’d been called away to, out in the Montana wilds, was dark and run-down. The whole setup wasn’t right. The subject wasn’t some sullen prisoner that he could convince himself was some threat to homeland security. She was just a slip of a girl, and he was being coerced to destroy her. Jones terrified him. They all did – even Fiorante, the tall, attractive auburn-haired woman who was the youngest and sole female agent on the team. She might be beautiful, but he was damn sure she was deadly.

Joshua stared again at the bottle on the table and he knew he couldn’t go through with it. He was going to get her out of there. And then he was going back to New York and tell Emily everything. Let the chips fall. He didn’t care any more.

He left the diner and continued on his journey, planning what he was going to do. He stopped at a small town on the way and found a little general store where he bought what he needed and hid it in the back of the car. Then he followed the long, winding road out into the wilds.

The hotel loomed up in front of him as he parked the Honda near the entrance. He stepped out, got his things from the car and buttoned up the long overcoat he was wearing, then walked briskly up the steps to the glass doors. Punched the security code into the panel on the wall, waited for the click and pushed through the door.

The familiar, detested smell of the place hit him as he strode through the dingy corridors. There didn’t seem to be anyone around. He checked his watch, sweat breaking out on his brow. His heart was thumping rapidly.

He made his way quickly up to the top floor, to Zoë’s door. The same big man in the dark suit was standing there as usual, eyeing him as he approached.

‘What’s with the heavy coat, doc?’

‘Got a chill,’ Joshua said. He sniffed for effect.

‘You’re sweating.’

‘Maybe coming down with flu. Can you let me in?’

‘You’re not scheduled to see her,’ the agent said.

‘I just realised,’ Joshua stammered, ‘I left my BlackBerry in there.’

‘No signal up here anyway, doc.’

‘Sure. But I need it. It’s got important stuff on it.’

‘Careless,’ the agent said.

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

‘One minute,’ the agent said. ‘No longer.’

‘Thanks.’ Joshua smiled weakly and pushed through the door. It shut behind him and he heard the click of the lock.

Zoë had been sleeping. She sat upright in the bed, eyes wide at the sight of him standing there with his hair a mess, not in his normal white coat.

‘I’m not supposed to be here,’ he whispered. ‘Do as I say and don’t ask any questions. I’m getting you out of here.’

The agent was thinking about his coffee break when he heard the commotion from inside the room. He cocked his head and listened for a moment, then unlocked the door and burst inside.

The girl was lying on the floor beside the bed. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and she was shaking violently. The guard stared down at her.

The doctor was kneeling on the floor next to her. He glanced up in alarm. ‘She’s sick. Really sick.’

‘What the hell happened?’ the agent asked, horrified.

‘Some kind of episode,’ the doctor said. ‘She woke up when I walked in and the next thing I know, she’s convulsing. Wait here – I’ve got some medication in the car.’ He jumped up and headed towards the door.

‘What do I do?’

‘Do nothing. Don’t touch her. Just stay with her.’

The agent stood and stared at her. Her whole body was shaking, rigid. Her hair was wet. She was foaming at the mouth. His mind was suddenly full of what they’d do to him for letting her get sick on his watch. Thank Christ for the doctor.

That was his final thought.

Joshua had stepped out of the room. He’d quickly unbuttoned the overcoat and drawn out the baseball bat that had been thrust through his belt, the handle trapped under his armpit. He strode back into the room, holding the bat in both hands. His mouth was dry. He’d been a reasonable ball player in college. The thought of smashing a bat into a man’s head made him cringe, but he’d no choice. He swung hard and felt the horrible thud vibrate down the shaft. The agent crumpled to the floor, face down.

Zoë scrabbled to her feet, spitting foam and undissolved pieces of Alka-Seltzer. She stared down in horror at the spreadeagled body of the agent.

‘Hurry,’ Joshua whispered. He dropped the bat. Took off the overcoat and wrapped it around her slender shoulders. Seizing her arm, he led her out of the room and locked the door behind them.