Liberation Day - A Thorn Byrd Novel

Half of the screens in the room were active as Thorn entered, the remainder still blacked out. In front of them Nio sat pecking away at a keyboard, his back to the outside world as he worked.

  “What have you found?” Thorn asked, lifting Iggy over the arm of a chair and setting her down atop it.

  At the sound of his voice Nio spun around, shock on his features giving way to fear as he stared at his sister. “Oh, sweet Jesus.”

  “She’s alive,” Thorn said, bypassing all other discussion. “What have you got?”

  Behind the desk Nio rose, moving to come closer.

  “No,” Thorn said, holding a hand out toward him, stopping Nio’s progress. “Not right now. What have you got?”

  For a moment Nio’s features darkened, incredulity creeping in.

  “She’s alive, but we have to hurry,” Thorn said. “Get what you can and let’s get her out of here.”

  “No need,” Nio said, staring back at Thorn, seemingly undecided how much anger to aim in his direction. “England, France, and Italy were just the beginning. They’ve also marked Germany, Russia, and Japan.”

  “For what?” Thorn asked.

  “No clue,” Nio said. “This guy was smart, destroyed damn near everything.”

  “That it?” Thorn asked.

  “Like I said,” Nio replied, shaking his head, “destroyed damn near everything.”

  With a nod of his head Thorn accepted the information, turning and jerking the tapestry down from the bar hanging across the top of the stairwell. Spreading it across the second chair, he placed a hand behind Iggy’s knees and neck and lifted her onto it, wrapping her up like a misshapen Christmas present.

  Nio watched for a moment before turning back to the screens, his body going rigid as he stared at them, his eyes widening to twice their usual size. “Oh, shit.”

  “What?” Thorn asked, standing back from Iggy and looking across. Twisting at the waist, he saw past Nio to the screens behind him to see red numerals counting backwards from a minute.

  “They’re going to blow the whole damn place,” Thorn whispered. In front of him fifty-eight seconds became fifty-five, working steadily backwards.

  In one movement he lifted Iggy from the chair and bounded down the stairs, crossing the foyer in long strides. Not once did he glance back over his shoulder, trusting Nio was doing the same. Raising the oversized package in his arms high against his chest, he churned his legs as fast as he could, the padded carpeting of the front hallway soft underfoot as he covered swaths of ground with each stride.

  Bursting through the front doorway, Thorn’s shoes smacked against marble as he hurtled himself forward. His legs began to burn and his breath become short as he eschewed the driveway, cutting a straight path across the open lawn.

  Around him the fighting had subsided, bodies in suits and faux military dress strewn across the lawn. Leaving them where they lay, he cut a path toward the front gate, Nio’s voice calling out behind him, “It’s going to blow!”

  An instant buzz seemed to pass through the yard at the sound of the warning, men that were just moments before lying comatose stirring to life. Many of them stared slack jawed at the odd crew sprinting past, glancing between the mansion and the front gate.

  “The house is rigged!” Thorn pushed out, his throat on fire. “Go! Go! Go!”

  This was the notice many of them needed, at once handfuls of men turning to run. A few attempted to heft wounded to their feet, men on both sides desperate to put as much distance between themselves and the house as possible.

  Bypassing any further warning, Thorn set his jaw and pushed as hard as he could, counting off the seconds in his head. When his internal clock got close to zero he chose the thickest tree in his path, curling his body behind it.

  Cradling Iggy close, he ensured she was completely enveloped, covering her head with his hands as a Hollywood explosion erupted behind him. A percussive boom sent a torrent of heat and debris past them, the tree offering only nominal protection as chunks of wood and concrete slammed through the leaves overhead.

  A moment later scattered bits began to fall from the sky, the remnants of items lifted up, rather than out, from the center mass.

  Hunkering forward at the waist, Thorn put his torso between Iggy and the falling shrapnel, remaining silent as pieces landed on his back. Ranging in size from pinpricks to hot nails, they cut into his skin as he set a course for the front gate, drawing grunts of pain as he went.

  Delaney was waiting as Thorn approached, two of the Suburbans already pulled up behind him. A small cluster of men was grouped close by, those that weren’t injured openly staring in wonder at the spectacle of the demolition.

  “We need to get her out of here,” Thorn said, standing erect and looking at Delaney, smoke and sweat burning his eyes, his back aching from falling debris.

  Stepping forward, Delaney peeled back the top of the tapestry, looking at the ghostly visage of Iggy folded up within.

  “Damn.”

  “She needs help,” Thorn said, his voice low in between deep breaths of air.

  Casting a glance to Nio bent at the waist beside them, Delaney asked, “Can you drive?”

  The only response was a nod, Nio rising to full height with his hands on his hips, still fighting to bring in air.

  “Take the second one,” Delaney said, motioning over his shoulder toward the Suburbans waiting nearby. “We’ve got it from here.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four