The End of Her World

Chapter Four

Jason began to run, pain every time he took a step. "Stop!" he howled. "Let her go!" The man did not respond, nor did he speed up. Jason tripped and agony lanced up his body. He fell, hitting hard against the ground. A blast of white filled his vision and he knew no more.

Long after the paramedics were gone, when the wails of pain had been mercifully silenced, and the fog had blocked out all light, Jason regained consciousness. Groaning, he placed a hand on his temple, and when he pulled away, a crimson coat of blood colored his hand.

"Sarah! Katrina!" he shouted, and his voice rolled across the bleak, gray, wasteland, and was eventually silenced by a thick carpet of ash. It had been a futile attempt; and he knew it. A hand touched his shoulder and Jason lashed out, his hear pulsing with fright. But his blow was caught seemingly easily.

He twisted around, and found himself staring into the face of a woman. Her skin was coal dark, and her hair was shaved close to her head in a typical military haircut. But the most striking thing about her was her golden eyes that shifted and shimmered and burned with a strong, determined fire.

"Were you calling for your daughters?" her voice was hoarse with grief, but there was authority and a spark of anger in it.

Jason nodded wordlessly. His blood still boiling from the adrenalin rush seconds earlier.

"Did someone take her?"

"Yes."

The woman unclipped a sleek steel phone from her belt and spoke rapid commands into it, while Jason looked on curiously. She smiled ruefully as she lowered it. The swift pounding of boots on concrete approached them. A squadron of soldiers, dressed in thick Kevlar vest and what appeared to be modernized SWAT team gear, with what appeared to be an adapted motorcycle helmets. They were armed with all sorts of weapons, from ballistic knives to Army Issue assault rifles.

Jason pushed himself up and looked the woman straight in the eye. "Who are these troopers? And who are you?"

The woman laughed, but there was not even a trace of amusement in her voice. "I am General Michelle Brooks. These are the Ghosts," she said, indicating the black clad soldiers behind her.

"How many Ghosts are there?" Jason interjected.

"Four hundred at the maximum," stated Michelle in a clipped tone. She took a deep breath before speaking again. "My adopted son, Teague, disappeared a year ago, when the first bomb went off. I had the Ghosts organized years before as a counter to NATO forces that were invading my homeland, Nigeria. So the Ghosts and I searched everywhere for Teague. In the process, Boggs, my Special Operations Lead Commander (SOCL), uncovered thousands more reports of vanished children." Michelle paused to let the information sink in.

"One wealthy child had a tracking device on him. It pinged every five minutes. The last signal was entering into the Alps. Then all signals stopped. The tracker was the best grade, and could not have been removed. It only turns off when all body functions stop. Katrina and Sarah were tracked to the same place and so have most other children. But they all disappear in the same place."

A freezing wave of terror consumed Jason as the implications of what she was saying washed over him. "So you're telling me that someone in the Alps is-''

"Abducting and murdering our children." Michelle finished grimly.