Chasing a Waterfall Ch. 02

At that moment, the bald man stepped on the gas. Increasing his acceleration, he managed to get a good two blocks of distance between them before another tail came into view. This one not on the ground, but rather a helicopter and not of the news variety either. Black, rather quite and looked of military origin. Though in truth, it was a bit difficult to measure at the moment. Still, he could not help but sake the feeling that this was some kind of new technology deployment. His mind briefly went back to all of the conspiracies involving black helicopters, rural farmers and their alleged cattle lose. This was not a laughing matter now. The black winged menace was very real.

"What's with the chopper? I am assuming that it is not company hardware," he slightly voiced.

"No, it's a next generation Whisper." "We've got some pretty neat hardware at Blackfoot, but that chopper is way out of our budget. The last I heard it was being deployed for governmental surveillance in known trouble spots," the Russian looking man said.

"It would appear that we are a new troubled spot," Michelle laughed, uneasily.

At that very moment, the five of them, at least he believed all of them heard a whining sound from above. The noise was a bit difficult to describe. It was kind of like an intense humming vibration. He believed it to be some form of an acoustic weapon. Bracing for a louder sound that was likely to follow, it surprised him a bit when it didn't. The helicopter, instead pulled back a significant distance. He turned around and noticed that they were no longer being tailed by any cars.

A busy intersection was rapidly approaching. He could feel the tension rise. If they could get through the lights, their tails would either have to sit back while they got some further distance between them or move from convert to overt operational tactics. At that very moment, the bald man put on accelerated and they just made it through a flickering yellow light.

Turning back, he was a bit surprised to see that none of the cars had jumped the red lights. He of course already knew the reason that they had not. They were the targets. On this grid, they likely were being watched by a dozen cameras and he knew that they were tracking their location by GPS. The odds were never in their favor. With this willingness to abide by traffic laws, he was getting a new picture. They were confident. The five of them were marked, and by the end of the day would either be dead or taken into custody. At that very moment, he was brought back to the present by the driver, the bald man, whose name he did not known.

He was gripping the wheel, and trying to change gears. The car seemed to be spinning out of control, though he seemed to have fairly good control over it. Looking out the window, he saw that they were on the only car that seemed to be having an issue.

"What's going on?" his voice wavered.

The man behind the wheel did not respond at first. He seemed to be using what little acceleration they had to move the car out of traffic and by blind luck were only about a half block short of an exit ramp. As the car came to a complete halt, the five of them bailed out and began a brisk run.

Turning back, the very next moment he saw a semi truck hit the car trying to avoid it at the last minute and pushed their car into oncoming traffic. What happened next could only be described as a disaster. The truck jack knifed, two cars spun out of control, and within a few moments he looked back over his shoulder to see at least a dozen cars involved in the wreck.

The five of them continued to run, though they had made a change in direction. They had abandoned the off-ramp and were now making their way down a ravine. A brisk run and a few minutes later the four of them were up a small hill and into a nearby forest. At the very least, the trees would provide some cover from overhead surveillance. Without any mode of transportation their chances of escape at the moment looked rather bleak.

A good hundred yards into the forest and he heard wrestling in the trees. He was about to say something when shots rang out. The two men in front had little time to react before being taken down. Each falling to the ground with heavy thuds, and then dead silence fell over them. Spooked, he turned to move back, but saw that neither woman had moved. They didn't fall. Instead, they stood still. At first he believed it to be shock, but they did not appear frightened by what had just transpired.

Continuing to back up, he felt the palm of another on his shoulder as he continued to stare at what had just happened, and had slowly moved backward. He had been only moments from sprinting away. Turning, he saw the man who had just made contact with his shoulder. He looked to be in his late forties. He stood about six-four with gray hair and blue eyes.

"What took you so long, Prescott?" Michelle shouted. "I sent our location just as we were leaving Solaire One."

He did not answer at first, but rather eyed Vincent up and down. "So this is Michael Lincoln?" he inquired, looking over his shoulder at the women.

Wait, what? He went numb. "How would they know who he really was, he had only recently begun to figure it out for himself?" he thought.

"Yes..." Michelle uttered. The two of them were coming up behind him. "It was my father's idea. As you can see, it didn't work out as planned," she gestured forward, towards the ever expanding trees.

"So what took you so look?" Michelle asked, a second time.

Looking at Michael one last time, he than turned his attention to the girls. "An extraction on the highway would have been too messy. It likely would have tipped them off to how had taken the three of you. You weren't easy to find. That targeted EMP really did a number on your phone."

Michelle took out her phone, and brought the device out of standby. She was greeted with a service not available. "Damn, your right Prescott... I've got no connection out here."

"We'd better get going. It's a long walk. Our point of contact should be waiting for us on the other side of the forest," Prescott announced.

At this very moment, Michael, now a known identity to all parties involved thought of ways to escape. He really was not sure what was going on, but he knew that he somehow needed to get away from all of this. It was all a bit overwhelming. It didn't really make any sense either. There were gaps in time, illogical plot holes. At least three sides seemed to be involved in this dispute.

The first was the federal government. It seemed to be in the processing of taking down rogue elements within. A second, the fine folks at Blackfoot, the ones who had been so instrumental in providing the first rogue factions, the shadow government if you will, the resources necessary to gain power. Now, there seemed to be a splinter faction that was keen on righting the wrongs that Blackfoot had made while in the control of Vincent Fairborne and Mr. Blackstone. This was madness, all madness.

He had been out for so little time and so much had changed. Part of the United States had almost been taken over by the Constitution Party. They had controlled elements within the Democratic and Republican Parties. Blackfoot by proxy had been strategically involved in the dissemination of a twisted and corrupt variant of Christian Zionism.

It was a new world order, just not the one that everyone who had been involved in conspiracy writings had imaged. Wasn't it supposed to be the UN that invaded the United States through citizen soldiers, who in reality were part of the blue helmets? The blue helmets would have been the enforcement wing of the United Nations. The coming insurrection was to be made possible by a liberal head of state with socialist leanings. Now it seems that pretty much the opposite had happened.

This was all too much for Michael. He turned and began to run before the others had even taken notice. By the time they had, he was a good fifty yards in the clear. He stumbled and bumbled his way through the woods. As best he could, he managed to make his way through the trees and brushes of the forest. He saw a river out ahead. Funny, he had not noticed that before. It was just a brook really. It might have been an oversight on his part. Still, it was something to strive for. If he could just get the stream, he might be able to... what? He didn't know. What he did know is that it was very important that he get to the small river.

He heard motions overhead. Unexpectedly, he paused and just as he did he felt something hit the back of his lower leg, and thane his neck. Moving his hand quickly back, he discovered that they were darts. Tranquilizer darts to be more precise.

A sense of calm was already beginning to overtake him. He struggled against this. He didn't want to lose consciousness. A figure in black back flipped out of the foliage and onto the forest grounds by sliding down a nearby tree.

How was that even possible? The woman had cat like reflexes. Coming in close, he found himself at a loss for words. She looked like Michelle, but somehow he knew that she was not Michelle. Her name escaped him at the moment.

The smile and cheerfulness was gone, and in its place, the face of a determined soldier. Gone were the blue jeans and coat. They had been replaced by some kind of paramilitary dress. Michelle eyed him tightly. Oddly, no back up was coming. Not the true Michelle, nor Cassandra or Prescott was coming. A thought than sent a chill up his spine.

Taking out a Beretta M9, she trained the weapon on his head. "Look Michael, I really thought this could work out, I really did. My father has always been a bit eccentric and egocentric when it came to his ideas, but this seemed to have potential. You seemed to have potential, unlike that monster, Vincent. You saw all of this become what it came to be. The trouble is that the mission will move forward whether you're with us or against us. I've guess you've made your choice."

He saw her beginning to tear up. He wanted to say something, but found that he could not. The sudden realization that Michelle had a twin sister entered his mind. The very next second he saw her finger motion down on the trigger, and then nothing. A calm darkness fell over him, encircled him and he watched as his body hit the ground, before the scene completely spiraled out like someone had spilt black ink on a surreal painting.

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This is the end of part one of Standing under an Umbrella, and Chasing a Waterfall. The next series of chapters jump the shark a bit, have more sex in them and might not bare as much relation to the first two chapters as one might expect. Honestly, I find analytical, sequential writing boring at the moment.

As for elements of conspiracy/government and stereotyping of mental illness/mood disorders in the story, please don't take them seriously. This is not meant as a primer for the DSM-IV-TR or a substitute for a good college psychology course. To anyone who has had a few political science classes in their life time, you will these notions to be ridiculous and I am truly sorry for this read. I was not trying to offend anymore. It's just a story.

Now on to bigger and better things with the sequel chapters, more sex... fewer guys. No insane conspiracy tales or political rhetoric. It will kind of be a bit more like the previous stories that I've written. Who knows, maybe in the next couple of chapters I might be able to bring my score up to something approaching a 3.00 or so. 'Nah, probably not.'