Unborn Read online

  BY

  DANIEL GAGE

  CONCEPT INSPIRED BY

  JAY DOUGLAS & NAV GUPTA

  UNBORN is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2015 by Daniel Gage & Vanquish Books

  Cover illustration by: Alexander Chelyshev

  ISBN 978-1-93920650-3

  eBook ISBN 978-1-939206-51-0

  www.Daniel-Gage.com

  www.VanquishBooks.com

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  CHAPTER 1

  The bright neon lights of Prague held no interest for Bernard. Drunks staggered about as prostitutes tried to catch their attention, attempting to lure their wallets away to feed their stomachs or other habits. Cars worth more than many people’s homes rumbled by, carrying their passengers to the assorted clubs and restaurants and bars that lined the streets.

  No, Bernard cared about only one thing.

  His phone.

  Specifically, it was where his phone was leading him. He stared at his GPS location slowly moving to the coordinates he had programmed in more than he paid attention to the crowds he rudely walked through. He almost tripped more than once, almost as if he was afraid his destination would disappear if he took his eyes off of it.

  “Huh? What?” Bernard asked as he realized someone had spoken to him.

  “I said, did you want to have some fun, baby? I’m just inside,” a street walker asked, her red dress revealing more than it covered.

  “Umm, no, thanks,” he replied. “I have somewhere to be.”

  “Okay, baby, maybe next time.” She winked before Bernard walked through the hologram.

  Bernard didn’t care about women. At least not in this moment.

  He looked back to his phone. His heart skipped as panic momentarily swept over him. The hooker had distracted him long enough for the screen to go black, and for a brief second, he thought everything was lost. He pushed the button to revive the screen, and his pulse slowed back to manageable levels.

  Bernard was close. Just two more turns, then down what looked like an alley.

  The urge to jog, or even run, to his destination was strong. But he had been advised not to draw attention to himself, and that he needed to be discreet. Bernard wondered how to do that, having never been noticed for more than a few seconds his entire life. Everything about him was bland, and he was keenly aware of that, even accepting of it.

  Which made this whole arrangement even more unbelievable. Even if it wasn’t true, the mere possibility was worth the price, the risk.

  No more call girls tried to barter for their services as he turned down a dark alley, one that felt out of place in the busy nightlife of the city. It was as if he stepped into a different world. The sounds were suddenly muted, and the lights dimmed as he stepped off the street.

  When Bernard saw he was alone, he checked his phone to again confirm the destination. It was correct. But then he saw the time, and realized he was a few minutes early.

  “Okay, just relax,” he whispered to himself as he looked about. His hands clenched into fists over and over in an attempt to calm his nerves.

  What if they were late? What if it was some elaborate con? What if the rumors were just that, rumors?

  The three minutes felt like hours, and his mind went over every possible scenario, should things go wrong. He would easily face jail time and fines for his actions, that was certain. His family had already disowned him, and he knew his children would never want to see him again.

  Bernard accepted this when the prize was clear. But now, everything he had done over the past several weeks seemed foolish, childish. Certainly, technology was advancing faster than anyone could realize, but for something like this … impossible.

  He was a fool, an idiot. What could he have been thinking? Why did he believe—

  “You’re early,” a voice hissed behind him.

  Bernard’s skin crawled at the icy voice. He turned and saw two people, a man and a woman, his dealers, standing casually where there had been only shadows seconds before. The man stood half a head taller than Bernard, and the woman just a bit shorter. Both were dressed in black, and the woman had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

  “Only a few minutes,” Bernard said once he found his voice.

  “We told you not to draw any attention,” the male dealer said as his eyes scanned the area. “Were you seen?”

  “N-no,” Bernard stammered, though he hadn’t a clue how to avoid being followed. He prayed they believed him.

  The man and woman exchanged a glance, and for a moment, Bernard feared the deal was off. But the two exchanged a nod, and Bernard’s heart started again.

  “Do you have it?” the man asked.

  Bernard reached into his jacket pocket and produced a thumb drive. He placed it in the man’s outstretched hand, who then passed it to the woman. She had pulled a data pad from her bag and inserted the drive.

  “It’ll take a few minutes for the script to verify the data,” she said.

  A slow smile crept across Bernard’s face, despite his best efforts.

  It was happening. This was real. Soon, things would be better.

  “Don’t get too excited,” the man growled out, though he seemed to take pleasure from Bernard’s reaction.

  “Thirty percent,” the woman reported.

  In the poor lighting Bernard couldn’t trust his vision, but he swore the woman bristled. Her hair seemed to raise up from the follicle, much like a dog’s hackles would raise when it’s alarmed.

  “Zeke, something’s wrong,” she hissed.

  A buzz interrupted them, and the man calmly reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He read the text, and immediately swore.

  “Shit,” Zeke muttered, and showed his phone to his partner. “They’re coming.”

  “Figures,” she grumbled. “Okay, let’s move.”

  “What’s going on?” Bernard asked, his voice rising in pitch and volume. “Don’t we have to be here?”

  “That’s our concern,” the woman said, shoving the data pad into her back. “Let’s move.”

  Before Bernard could object, the man grabbed him by the collar and ran. It was all Bernard could do to keep from tripping and falling; the man and woman could have easily been professional athletes, whereas Bernard got winded checking the mail. They sprinted down the dark alley as if it were a track, the potholes and debris their hurdles.

  By the time they reached the end of the alley, Bernard heard tires squeal as brakes were slammed. He looked over his shoulder and saw the shadows of men holding rifles and other assorted weapons. They moved like a tactical unit, and Bernard was reminded of watching war films.

  He just never thought he’d be living one, and on the receiving end of those guns.

  “It’s the bitch,” the male dealer growled, though Bernard wondered how he could see anything. “Shit.”

  “This way,” the woman said, and suddenly they were out of the alley and sprinting down the street.

  Pedestrians pressed themselves up against buildings as the trio ran by, no one wanting to get in their way. Bernard knew it wasn’t because they were concerned for their safety, but that they didn’t want anything to spoil their own evening in the city.

  “Oh my God!” a nearby bystander shrieked. “They have guns!”

  Bernard didn’t have to look to know the strike force had emerged from the alley, and for a moment, he wondered if they wou
ld fire at them in the crowded city streets. Bernard prayed they wouldn’t.

  But he never got a chance to find out. The man dragged him into another alleyway that was almost invisible, and a series of blurred turns put them on yet another street, this one quieter than the one they left.

  As soon as he thought they had a break, Bernard was proven wrong. Black, nondescript cars peeled around the corner, and before they had even stopped, armed men poured out of the vehicles.

  “We’re fucked,” Bernard whispered, his voice cracking under the stress.

  This was worse than he could have imagined. If the dealers hadn’t shown up, Bernard knew he’d face consequences for his crimes. If the dealers showed up, it meant he may get his reward.

  But these men with guns … was he going to die here? Or be locked up in some sort of prison, where he would never see the light of day again? Or even worse? His mind couldn’t process all these new possibilities, and his body all but shut down.

  Thankfully, the man was strong and was able to practically drag Bernard along, Bernard’s legs floundering to keep up.

  Shots rang out on the nearly empty street, bullets striking the brick wall just behind the trio running for their lives. Now Bernard had his answer, these gunmen were willing to risk injuring or killing bystanders to get their mark. And while he was convinced he was going into shock, he couldn’t help but notice how cool and collected the man and woman were.

  It was like they had done this before, and even so much as rehearsed it.

  Reaching the end of the street and rounding a sharp corner, they caught a break.

  A middle-aged, drunken man in a three-piece suit leaned drunkenly against an Audi sports car, dangling the fob over the low-cut dress worn by a tall, statuesque blonde.

  “Come on, baby,” he slurred, swaying as he spoke. “I’ll let you drive it.”

  “Of course I’m driving,” she purred as she leaned against the car, exposing all the right curves to tease the potential client. “But I’m still not lowering my price.”

  The drunk didn’t have a chance to give a counter offer. Instead, the female dealer snatched the key fob from his hand and shoved him out of the way. The prostitute screamed and ran, her heels clacking against the pavement as she fled.

  “Hey, what—” the drunk started, but his eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed to his back, unconscious.

  The dealers paid him no mind. The woman pulled open the driver’s side door so hard it seemed like she was going to rip it off of its hinges, and crack the frame as she slammed the door shut. The man opened the passenger side door and all but threw Bernard into the cramped back seat before he slid into the car.

  “New driver detected, calibrating, please wait,” a computerized voice spoke from the car’s speaker.

  “Calibrate this,” the woman said, pulling a small cylinder from her duffel bag. She jabbed it against the steering column and pressed a button that discharged a small, electric pulse.

  “Manual override, troubleshooting mode enabled,” the car’s voice said.

  “That’s more like it.” She grinned, settling back into the seat and shifting the car into gear.

  Bullets pierced the back of the car as they quickly sped down the narrow, winding street, and Bernard looked back to see the gunmen scramble back to their vehicles.

  “Wait, wait, don’t we need to go back?” Bernard asked, his voice squeaking. “Aren’t we too far?”

  “Relax,” the male dealer said, oozing enough confidence for all three of them. “Once the script is done, we’ll get you taken care of. It’s at seventy percent now.”

  Bernard took a few deeps breaths to try to calm his racing pulse, but it didn’t work. With bullets flying and the script still running, it felt like he may die before he got his reward. He found that thought a bit more comforting than his previous concerns, though, as death appealed more than prison, or worse.

  The female dealer handled the car with deft skill, quickly accelerating when the street allowed, and taking turns at a speed Bernard would have never dared. But despite her ability, their pursuers managed to keep up, their black cars holding a formation similar to their gunmen. Any other time Bernard would have thought their teamwork impressive, but now he found it more than inconvenient.

  “Zeke, they’re going to push us out of the Shift Zone,” the woman hissed as she made another tight turn. “Deal with it.”

  Zeke reached into the duffel bag and removed a rifle stock and two more pieces of a large rifle. But, as he assembled the weapon, Bernard realized it appeared much more sinister than anticipated. The magazine was massive, and the barrel didn’t end how he expected. Instead, it fanned out like a duck bill.

  “What the hell is that?” Bernard asked, his eyes wide.

  “I call it The Squid.”

  The grin on Zeke’s face frightened Bernard more than the gun, but that lasted only until Zeke pulled the trigger.

  When he fired, everything changed. Bullets flew from the rifle and chewed up the street, sending debris flying into the cars attempting to take them down. Even more found the brick walls, and Bernard realized if they had a few minutes, this gun could probably take down a whole house.

  “What a shame. I like this city,” Zeke said as he replaced the magazine, a smug look on his face.

  “Shit,” the woman cursed. “Bridge. Traffic.”

  “I’m not blind, Eva. I’ve got it,” Zeke said.

  He leaned back out the window, this time aiming forward. The car slowed to a low roar, and the male dealer fired. White-hot steel flew, each round creating a small explosion as it hit vehicles and pavement, creating an opening for their getaway car.

  The carnage was more than Bernard could have imagined, and for a moment, he wondered if the innocent bystanders in each car had any idea what was going on. All he could hope was that they didn’t suffer.

  The driver wasted no time, and as soon as there was a gap large enough for the agile sports car to slip through, they were gone.

  “Last one,” Zeke said, replacing the magazine.

  They drove down the bridge, but as soon as they started to gain some speed, the woman slammed on the brakes, causing the car to swerve and emit a cloud of burnt rubber.

  “Dammit, they have the bridge blocked,” Eva said.

  “Turn around,” Zeke suggested.

  They started to swing around, only to be greeted by more of the armed gunmen emerging from cars.

  “Surrounded,” she said as she scanned around for options. “This is annoying.”

  “Ohmygodohmygod,” Bernard whimpered, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “We’re going to die.”

  Slowly they moved in around them, dozens of gunmen surrounding the vehicle. Bernard watched as they closed in, his dreams and desires fading as their grasp tightened.

  A high-pitched ding interrupted their thoughts, and Zeke reached and grabbed the data pad.

  “One hundred percent verified,” he said with a grin. “Let’s head back.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” she said. “Make a hole.”

  “Gladly.”

  “How the hell are you two so calm?” Bernard asked, his voice reaching a new octave.

  The man looked over his shoulder and gave him a wink. “We’ve done this once or twice. Hang on.”

  The male dealer pulled another gun out of the bag, this one the size of a large pistol. The grip looked too small to hold a magazine, and the opening was larger than that of a shotgun. He dropped a cylinder into the opening and cocked the hammer. He fired at the oncoming gunmen, the projectile wobbling as it flew.

  The gunmen tried to scatter, but the explosion lit up the bridge almost as if it were daytime.

  The dealer repeated the motion and fired again, this time in the direction they were aiming to flee. The explosion had a similar effect, and the driver shifted the car into gear.

  He tossed aside the grenade pistol and retrieved the rifle, then took out the le
ad vehicle, again creating an opening for the sports car. They sped through, leaving the gunmen scrambling to regain their composure.

  “Set him up,” Eva said as she navigated the streets.

  “Always so bossy.” Zeke grinned.

  The male dealer pulled a metal harness out of the duffel and leaned into the back seat. He strapped it around Bernard with a practiced hand, despite the turns and skids the driver was performing. Once it was secure, the male dealer pushed a button on the small panel. It emitted a series of short beeps before giving off a long, solid buzz, and the highlights of the harness turned green.

  “All set,” Zeke said, securing the rest of the equipment in the duffel bag. “I’ll catch you later.”

  He then calmly opened the door and dove out, rolling and disappearing into the shadows.

  “What the—is he…?” Bernard stammered.

  “He’s fine, buckle up,” the female dealer said.

  Within moments they found themselves back at the alley were it had all started. The woman revved the engine, and then looked back at Bernard.

  “Remember, three weeks,” she said, a small grin on her face. “Ready?”

  Bernard buckled his seat belt and leaned back in the small rear seat, feeling calm for the first time in days.

  “I’m ready,” Bernard said after releasing his breath.

  The female dealer slammed on the gas, and as soon as the car was up to speed, she pulled a small disc from her pocket. She pressed the center before tossing it onto the gas pedal, where it extended and wrapped metallic tentacles around the surface. In less than a second, it engaged, holding the car at its rate of acceleration. It sped down the alley, toward the end, where an open street with a solid brick wall awaited them.

  “Good luck,” she said, before throwing open the door and diving out into the shadows.

  Bernard watched as the car raced forward, the wall quickly growing closer.

  With a soft exhale, Bernard closed his eyes.

  **********

  Emma approached the wreckage, her face tense with rage. They had been so close again, closer than ever before, but the dealers still managed to escape. Her hands were clenched in tight fists, and she was only slightly aware of the cramps forming in both arms, as well as her neck.