Chapter 4 - The Dead Man Walking
"Fry the microchip right now," Grant ordered without a single ounce of hesitation.
The old doctor warned him that the electromagnetic pulse would cause excruciating, unbearable pain.
Grant told the man that he did not care about the pain anymore.
The doctor activated a small, humming metal device near Grant's right temple.
A blinding, agonizing white light ripped violently through Grant's skull.
He collapsed onto the flimsy medical cot as tears streamed uncontrollably down his face.
Slowly, the blinding white agony began to fracture into blurry shapes and dull, washing colors.
Grant could finally see the faint, beautiful outline of Hannah holding her daughter.
Suddenly, the reinforced steel door of the underground clinic exploded inward with a deafening crash.
Vernon Hale stepped through the thick smoke accompanied by four heavily armed mercenaries.
"I explicitly told you not to skip your morning drops, Grant," Hale laughed cruelly.
Hannah desperately grabbed a sharp surgical scalpel from the metal tray beside her.
The leader of the armed hit squad stepped fully into the harsh clinic light.
Hannah dropped the scalpel instantly as her face drained of all natural color.
"Mark?" she whispered in a state of absolute, paralyzing horror.
The dangerous man holding the assault rifle was Hannah's supposedly missing husband.
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He had selfishly faked his own disappearance two years ago to join the criminal syndicate.
Mark smiled coldly and aimed his heavy weapon directly at his own terrified wife.
