Modern Beasts: Altered Demons, #2

By Fish Phillips

When the beasts rise, the peace dies.

 

Exceptional thriller and science fiction hybrid continues the trilogy with grounded world-building and future technology powering high stakes missions.

 

An unconventional political assassination in 2044 Washington, DC casts doubt on the loyalty of former United States Agent Dee Johnson. Her affiliation with the daughter of a deceased business magnate and known terrorist leader brings added scrutiny while her illness advances.

 

However, her burgeoning psychotronic abilities draw interest from world powers and organizations alike. The Freeman Foundation, a global climate initiative led by the first lady, induces her cooperation with advanced Department of Defense projects. Meanwhile, the US government demands justice for a fallen political figure.

 

When Dee agrees to an unprecedented domestic military campaign, she gains a fresh awareness of what people with power do to those without. When hidden alliances become known, Dee must decide what master she will serve as the world reaches the tipping point of war.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Taz Lake
• Release date: Oct 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781733865692

Fish Phillips

Fish Phillips was born and raised as the son of an enlisted Marine. After attending high school in Hawaii, and top universities elsewhere, a genre-defying career path led him to writing. Over decades he has served as a technology founder, medical researcher, college professor, web developer, screenwriter, filmmaker, program manager, and artist. His academic background in science, art, cultural anthropology, and theology enables him to render rich worlds accessible to broad audiences. As a multi-platform creator, his ambition is to share unique, high-concept, stand-alone stories with readers to delight, entertain, and cultivate their curiosity. Based in Atlanta, he lives with his engineer wife and a teenage daughter who mocks him with "Look at daddy signing books like he's famous."

Book preview

Chapter 1

Asky replete with gray cumulus cast a shadow over the presidential motorcade arriving at Andrews Air Force Base beyond Morningside. The armored limousine came to a deliberate but gentle stop as President Freeman tightened his core against the nudge of momentum. His most recent conversation with agent Dee Johnson occupied his mind. Eight years in the highest political office had left him grayer, but thanks to her, still alive. Her grit had met the domestic terrorist challenge directly. He admired her genuine intensity. It mirrored his, but brought an uncompromising stance that politicians like him could not afford. Dee was the kind of daughter he would have wanted as his own. He downed a last sip of water and capped the empty bottle.

The vehicle door flung open, breaking Freeman from his stupor. A Secret Service agent motioned to him. As the president exited the car, he squinted against the sunlight filtered through the clouds. He straightened his suit and tie and shook off the feeling that this was the end. Embarking on a post-election farewell tour was a rite of passage for outgoing leaders, but he hated the tough goodbyes along the way.

The usual number of security and support personnel surrounding him, including medical and electronic warfare personnel. But the Boeing VC-25A awaiting him dwarfed the entourage. An Air Force colonel in dress blues saluted him, and Freeman returned the gesture.

Welcome to Andrews, sir. No Marine One today?

Beautiful day for a drive, Colonel.

Certainly, sir.

They strolled together toward the crimson boarding stairs a hundred feet away. The President glanced up.

Last trip on this thing. Old but dependable.

Yes, sir. Best ride in town.

France, South Korea, Germany, Sweden. And back in time for Webb’s inauguration.

As they reached the stairs, the complement of officers at the base stood at attention and saluted along with the Colonel.

Have an excellent trip, sir.

Freeman left the Colonel and jogged up the steps, turning at the top and waving before entering the aircraft, now designated as Air Force One. He strolled to his office, passing by his security detail already seated in the aircraft’s corridor. Work leather shoes tapped the carpet embedded with reflective stars. He found his plush, tan leather office chair and sat, snatching the nearby phone and dialing in one motion. A female voice answered, slurring her words from the beginning.

Hello?

Stacy, hey, I’m on board.

Good, James. Safe travels… bring us some wins home.

With four chances, I think I might. You okay? You sound, well, tired.

After Webb’s win last night, I may have had a bit too much at the party. You were saying?

Well, the Swedes are always so prudent, but I think they will come around to our approach. The others are on board. The Koreans especially don’t want to be left out.

That’s the husband I love, always on top of things. I love you.

Now Mrs. Freeman, is that you talking, or the wine?

It’s me talking to the wine, Stacy laughed. Don’t tell anyone.

I won’t, hon. Top secret. I promise.

He paused, wondering if he should say what was truly on his mind.

What is it, James?

It’s Dee. I spoke to her earlier off the record. She deserved my thanks. She hasn’t visited the foundation yet.

No, you said she would come when she’s ready.

She may not be ready, but she still needs help. There’s something more going on. She might be the key to the foundation’s programs. Don’t you think?

Or it might have been a fluke. Like her report said. We’ve not seen it before.

Maybe, but your people could put a finer point on what happened while getting her the help she needs.

Of course.

You should send Reggie out to chat with her.

Yes, they seemed to work well together. I’ll ask.

Thanks, hon. I’ll see you when I get back.

The line remained silent as he held the old phone receiver tighter.

Don’t make me say it.

I won’t, Mr. President. I love you, too.

As President Freeman put down the receiver, the flight attendant tapped on the open door.

Sir, would you like anything before we depart? Maybe a water or coffee?

He leaned back in the chair.

Maybe a beer? The attendant turned to leave. No, wait. This is my farewell tour. The Yamazaki twenty-five.

Neat?

Yes, Master Sergeant. Neat. Thank you.

The serviceman departed the office and marched down the aisle past the security detail toward the front of the aircraft. He leaned into the cockpit.

Water anyone?

The three flight crew members paused their final flight pre-checks to decline. He closed the cockpit door and locked it before turning to the bar. The whiskey bottle cracked open for the first time as he deftly retrieved a crystal tumbler. The smooth pour of light golden liquid reached a depth of two fingers. He babied the glass along the return path back to Freeman and set it down as the plane lurched forward along the tarmac.

Thank you.

You’re welcome, sir, he said as he turned to leave.

Emperor Sakai, Freeman blurted out before taking a sip.

Pardon me, Mr. President?

Freeman smacked his lips.

The emperor gave me this as a gift the last time I was in Tokyo.

The plane jostled more as the outside world shifted past the porthole windows.

Is it to your liking?

Very much. Say, you’ve been on quite a few of these flights recently, haven’t you, O’Connell?

Yes, sir. My name has come up often in the pool.

The President thumbed the crystal.

When you have a moment, maybe bring a glass and try some yourself?

I appreciate the offer, but I can’t drink on duty, sir.

Of course, of course… when we land, then?

Freeman raised his glass.

Very good, Mr. President.

As the attendant left, Freeman looked out the window. Trees and buildings blurred as the plane engines rose in pitch. Faster, the wheels rolling on the runway, drumming until the beats blended as one. Quicker the plane sped until the monster craft rose as light as a feather.

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Captain Brett focused through the cockpit windshield as Air Force One lifted off from Andrews. He gripped the yoke solidly as he pulled back and gained altitude. His headset squawked with instructions.

Air Force One, fly heading 185, contact departure. Good day!

He pressed the push to talk button on the yoke.

Roger that, heading 185, he said before releasing the button. He turned to his co-pilot. I’m going to need some great jokes between here and Paris, Lindy.

I already told you my one good joke, Brett. I’m all out. How about you, Jack?

She peeked over her shoulder at Jack sitting in the navigator spot as the airplane gained more altitude. He flipped a switch, and then another, before a grin flashed across his face.

Arguing with your partner is like trying to read the terms of use on the Internet. Eventually, you just give up and say, ‘I agree.’

Good one, Jack, Brett said as they laughed. I’ll have to remember that one unless my wife’s around.

Bam!

What the hell? Lindy yelled toward Brett.

Something hit the wind screen. I couldn’t tell what it was. Take the controls, Lindy.

She grabbed the yoke while Brett unbuckled and craned his neck toward the front glass.

What was it? Jack asked.

A bird? I think?

Any damage?

Can’t tell. But I’m turning us around in case.

He sat and flicked his talk button.

Andrews tower, we may have had a bird strike up here. No apparent damage, but we’ll need to circle back to confirm, over.

Roger that, Air Force One. We have you clear for approach. Heading zero five. We’ll get you straight back in.

Okay folks, he said, addressing the crew. Leveling us out and we’ll get back in. Start landing procedures.

The captain pushed down on the stick and the plane reached a level attitude. The flight attendant’s voice arose over his headset.

Captain, is something wrong?

Tell the president and other passengers we are returning to Andrews. Prepare for land—

Bam!

What the hell?

I just lost the radar. Another bird strike? Jack said.

Brett looked over his shoulder at Jack, his face turned stark with concern. He gritted his teeth as he touched his talk switch once more.

Andrews Tower. Air Force One declaring an emergency. A bird strike to the nose of the aircraft. We’ve lost radar. Request immediate visual return. Over.

Confirming Air Force One for immediate visual return. You stated a second bird strike? Over.

Yes. Roger a second strike. That’s two. Over.

Roger that. Altitude and vector at your discretion. You have the ball. Over.

Brett looked over his shoulder again.

I’ll take us in manually, Jack. Tell me if we lose anything else.

Jack’s face turned ashen. He studied the distance, not acknowledging Brett as Lindy interrupted.

Uh, Captain. You should see that.

Brett turned back toward the front and peered through the glass into the distance. A dark, undulating blotch on the horizon met his gaze, growing faster with every second.

Is that? A storm cloud?

Lindy shook her head.

It’s too fast. Too close.

The cloud grew evermore until a look of realization found the captain.

It’s geese.

What? Jack said.

A lot of fucking geese.

Lindy punched some buttons on the control panel.

Now would be a wonderful time to turn around, captain.

Brett broke from his shock and pulled on the yoke, turning the plane hard toward Andrews, but the cloud grew until it surrounded them.

More geese? There must be thousands!

It’s like they’re drawn to us, Jack said.

Find an open spot and punch it, Brett.

As Brett pulled on the yoke once more, he could find no opening in the ever-growing veil. As the sunlight darkened from his view, the distinct creatures forming the haze emerged in his vision. A shadow fell over the cockpit. Moving as one and closing tighter, hundreds of eyes glowed red from the murky tornado of modern beasts.

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President Freeman sipped his whiskey and looked out the porthole window. His wedding ring clanked on his glass as he placed it on a coaster. The sun darkened as O’Connell rushed the president’s office with Secret Service close behind.

Mr. President, buckle your seat belt immediately.

His brow scrunched as he snapped the buckle and pulled the belt tight over his suit pants.

What’s happening? A storm?

Sir, we’re returning to Andrews. Please stay seated.

The agents and attendant took the empty chairs and buckled themselves as the aircraft shook.

What the hell is happening? Freeman demanded.

Outside a window, one engine smothered in a rush of feathers and flame.

Fire! I see fire! O’Connell pointed.

The plane jerked sideways as Freeman held tight against the jostling chair. His whiskey glass shifted with each toss, eventually falling to the star-spangled floor. Wings vibrated and creaked, sending shudders throughout the fuselage that he felt in his chest. Engines wheezed as the surrounding air darkened further, winking the sunlight out of view. Bodies of creatures thudded, smacking into the aging plane one after another. The carcasses slammed against metal as hail. The drumming flooded his senses as he looked up at a fresh rip in the aircraft. A goose fell through the howling opening and landed in front of him. Part machine. Part beast. Eyes glowing red before they faded. The creature lay lifeless on the surface of his desk, its feathered corpse offering a bitter silence before the inevitable.

Chapter 2

Ablack sports sedan with tinted windows came to a stop inside an enormous metallic hangar at Hyde Field outside Washington, DC. The private jet of beige and maroon gleamed with the promise of vacation for two weary souls. Former Secret Service Counterassault agent Dee Johnson exited the car instantly, head on a swivel, as her training had taught her. A muscular, uniformed porter arrived and popped open the sleek vehicle trunk. Dee went to the passenger side, where she opened the door. Penny remained seated on the plush black leather seat. Dee kneeled and caressed her thigh through loose cashmere pants.

You ready to have some fun on the Amalfi Coast?

Penny took a moment before reaching out her hand.

Help me out.

Dee supported Penny as she stood and forced a subtle grin. They held each other’s gaze as two souls from separate worlds joined by past abuses. Dee wanted to be part of her life and help her heal, while enjoying life before the cancer consumed her.

Did you drift away from me there? Dee said, stroking her golden locks.

Sorry. Thinking about some things.

Dee nodded and kissed her forehead.

Things? Okay, yes, extremely specific there. There are many things. I understand.

She hugged her.

We both must work on our things. We’ll get there.

I know we will. I’m not depressed, just distracted. Too many little demons running around my brain. Times I can’t forget. Taking up space.

Sounds like I need to introduce you to my demons. The party would be great.

Penny flashed a coy smile and giggled as she handed Dee a key.

Hey, go to the office. Dad… well… I have a special bottle of whiskey stashed in there.

You giving me orders now? Dee snatched the key.

I would never, don’t want to get in trouble.

Dee patted her rear and walked toward the office.

The porter avoided eye contact with Dee as she passed. He looked like a man who could handle himself in a fight despite the suit. She entered the hangar office and searched for the bottle for Penny.

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The porter removed the luggage from the trunk. Penny approached him.

So? What’s the status?

It’s done, the porter closed the trunk.

Penny exhaled sharply.

The President is dead? We’re sure?

The plan worked.

Bad timing, though, Penny dropped her shoulders. We need to make it out of here.

They have restricted our flight zone and the skies remain closed. We won’t get clearance.

We must exit fast and low.

And dirty.

Tell the pilot to adjust course. Fly low and dark to our airstrip on Sardinia. Get the grab team there and plan to ferry her to the lab in Bizerte. I don’t want her to suffer. Our domestic assets won’t be so kind. I should know.

Yes, Miss Mercer. They are more blunt instrument than precision tool.

We need answers, not damaged property because some pre-verbal cult member wants to have some fun instead of listening to me. That’s why Europe. Make sure the team knows to treat her as precious cargo.

He tilted his head to acknowledge her order and carried the bags toward the plane.

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As Dee returned from the office with the bottle, she watched as the giant man carried the suitcases away and stowed the bags.

Is this the one?

Dee raised the bottle and Penny turned to her.

That’s it.

Penny took it.

Luggage is loaded. Let’s go.

Tires squealed and engines roared as four dark SUVs charged into the hangar and surrounded them. Teams