Dead by Daybreak

PROLOGUE

Colorado’s last mega brick-and-mortar shopping center was waking up. Earlier that morning, an old man riding a vintage snow plow cleared the few inches of fresh snow blanketing the parking lot. Eager patrons kicked white powder from their shoes before traipsing down feeder corridors to reach their destination: a refuge to spend their time and money, feel the merch; take a needed break from the shop online experience.

At 11:15 a.m., a lone gunman barged through the main entry doors at Foothills Mall and marched down the long corridor with his boots stomping and trench coat flapping, an assault rifle held high in the air while he shouted slogans of derangement. “I am the prophet. I deliver this massage in the name of Allah.”

The space widened in front of him as he moved in further. He stopped at the core of the central atrium and looked up. With his rifle raised, he began to empty the first of three high-capacity magazines, peppering the massive pendant lights that hung from the dome ceiling. Gunshots echoed throughout the open space while shards of glass rained down on the terrazzo floor. After shattering the overhead globes, he lowered the barrel of his gun and blasted everything, and everyone in his sights. Screams punctuated the chaos as patrons, pummeled by bullets and a barrage of falling glass, scattered in all directions. Fragments of clothing, blood spatter and bits of human flesh were suspended in midair. Bullets penetrated glass storefronts and bounced off metal, ricocheting in all directions to find new paths of destruction. When the shooting stopped, cries of pain and terror broke the momentary stillness. One of the wounded caught in the line of fire clawed her way to cover; moaning, “Please, no more. Help me!”

Ellie James was outside the Apple store, right behind the auto dealer’s display when the gunfire erupted. She heard the shots and crackle of shattered glass coming from the atrium; then stepped out from between two cars to see a man wielding an assault rifle. She snapped her head around to look for a way out––a wall of storefront glass at her back; the gunman headed her way in front. Her legs trembled. Trapped.

She turned to see an old woman wander into the shooter’s path. When he began to fire again, the woman ran hunched over with both hands covering her ears before he riddled her with bullets. The contents of her handbag went flying; she slid across the floor in a track of blood. Ellie scanned the open space at her sides, desperate to hail a cop or security guard––someone to stop the shooter. But all she saw were mothers with strollers, shopkeepers, and a few elderly mall walkers scrambling to find safety.

Ellie thought she had lost control and wet her pants. She reached down to check. When she looked up to search for help again, the digital banners on the second level, blinking their graphic messages to tout the latest wrinkle cream or weight loss drug, morphed into a dizzying distraction; the captive world inside the mall spun faster. Closer to the auto display, a father tried to lead his wife and little girl to safety. “Oh, my God! Run!” Ellie yelled. They attempted to shield themselves behind a raised planter, but a rain of bullets caught up with the family and dropped them in a heap.

The shooter’s stringy black hair spun as he turned to see from where the lone voice of warning had come, but Ellie had already ducked behind one of the cars. There’s nowhere to go. I’ve got to stay here. She prayed her fiancée might save her. Ben, where are you?

The man was distracted by some teenagers racing to find cover in a neighboring store. Between the shots and the screams, Ellie could hear the dreadful sound of moving stairs repeatedly thumping the body of a man lying at the foot of the escalator.

***

Minutes before in the parking lot outside the mall, Ben Foxe sat in the cab of his Chevy Air Cruiser. It was peaceful here, away from the noise and stink of the food court. He took a second bite of his ham and cheese on a French roll when the chime in his ear implant sounded.

Ben tapped the earpiece. “Hey, how you doin’?”

“I’m good,” his brother responded. “When did you want to meet?”

“I get off at about five, but why don’t you stop by the mall earlier. The new models have some cool features. I’ll take you on a test drive.”

“I can’t. I’ve got detention.”

“What’d you do this time, Danny?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure. We’ll talk about that nothing when I see you. That’s why we moved from Virginia: better schools; better surroundings. You were supposed to clean up your act.”

“I have. Hey, it’s my birthday. You have to treat me nice,” said Daniel.

“Yeah, right.” Ben checked the time on the dash clock again. “Oh, just in case you forgot, Ellie is supposed to meet up with us.”

“I knew that.”

“No more crashes. Wear that helmet I bought you. There’s a place to lock up your bike near the service entrance.”

“Got it.”

The chime of an incoming call got Ben’s attention. He glanced at the personal communication device laying on the passenger’s seat next to his half-eaten sandwich. “It’s Ellie. Gotta go. See you later.”

“Where are you?” Ben heard when he switched callers. The muffled tension in his fiancé’s voice over the unmistakable crack of gunfire set Ben’s guts on fire. He sat forward; hit his head on the sun visor. “Are those shots? I hear shots. What’s going on?”

Ellie struggled to free her dry tongue. “There’s a crazy man in here. He’s killing people.”

“Where?”

“In the mall. I came to see you. You were gone.”

Ben cupped his hand tightly over his ear, not believing, not ready for this again. “I’m in the parking lot.” He reached inside the console to grab his handgun, an easy invitation to a felony conviction. He heard screams and more gunshots in the background. “Keep talking, Ellie!”

“Okay.”

“Tell me what you see.” Ben chambered the first round in his Glock 19.

“I . . . I . . . can’t see much. I’m behind a car.”

The auto dealership Ben worked for had a half-dozen of their latest friction-free models on display inside the mall. He was scheduled to return in thirty minutes to relieve his coworker.

The Marine swung the truck door open and hit the asphalt with both feet . . . hard. He sprinted toward the service entrance. “I’m on my way. Is there more than one shooter?”

“I don’t think so. I just saw him.”

“What’s he wearing? How about a hat, the color of his shirt or jacket? Give me something.”

“He has a long coat,” she whimpered.

Ben had coached Ellie on how to survive in situations like this. He could almost see the disappointment etched on her face for not being more observant, and feel the anxiety igniting every nerve in her body.

“Ben, what should I do?”

“Stay where you are and don’t move. I’ll be right there.”

There was a pause.

“I see his feet. I think he’s coming this way.”

As Ben approached the building, the doors flew open, and a young couple ran out with bags slapping their thighs. “Don’t go in,” shouted one of the shoppers. “There’s a guy shooting people in there.”

All Ben heard in his earpiece were screams and more gunfire, only now, everything was louder, more chaotic. “Ellie! Honey! Talk to me!”

Ben burst through the doorway and raced down the hall. When he glanced down, he saw the blurred vision of his feet in motion. For a second, he thought he heard the crunch of boots in the sand instead of the clap of loafers on tile.

Ben was twenty yards down the corridor when he stopped. He slowed his breathing and listened. The faint echo of voices could be heard in the distance. No more shooting. Maybe it's over, he thought.

“Sir, there’s a guy with a gun in the north corridor.”

“What? Say again.”

Transient, high-pitched squeals distorted the com chat. The man lurking in the shadows of the restroom vestibule to Ben’s left, said once more, “There’s an intruder with a handgun in my sights. He doesn’t move like a civilian. Must be police or ex-military. What do you want me to do?”

The voice on the other end didn’t hesitate. “He’ll get in the way. Take him out. Do you copy?”

The man in hiding pulled his head back and took a few seconds to digest the order, and then he said, “This guy wants to be a hero. Maybe I should let him end that miserable piece of shit.”

“Wrong time and place for him, Lieutenant. Stick with the plan. I don’t like this any more than you. Just do it.”

“Affirmative.”

Ben continued, taking long, deliberate strides down the hallway with his gun held in the ready position. What if I can’t find her? Playing defense isn’t a winning strategy. He kept moving and thinking. Stop the negatives. She’ll be okay.

Even with his cap pulled down, the light reflection off the tile floor, and the beads of perspiration leaking into the corner of his eyes obscured his vision. He released the lock he had on his weapon briefly to swipe at the stinging sweat. He wanted to run to Ellie but didn’t know where the shooter was. Dealing with hidden enemies was routine for him, but not in his own backyard, and not with his fiancé’s life on the line.

He stopped again to listen. Could be around any corner, just waiting for me. Why did this have to happen? There was a sick stillness in the air. I thought I was done with this shit.

From dead silence a shot rang out. The bang reverberated in the corridor and out into the mall. A vision of Ellie was the last thing for Ben, the very last thing before he tumbled to the floor.

The hidden shooter lowered his rifle. “It’s done,” he said into the needle-thin receiver under his collar.

The op leader stationed in the van swallowed hard. “Good. The spotters are back. No complications. Pepper the corridor with a bullet spray. The house cameras are disabled. I arranged for the shooter’s rifle and yours to have identical barrel characteristics, but you’ll have to retrieve your brass. You better hurry. There’s a swarm of response on its way. I’ll meet you outside.”

The soldier in street clothes followed orders. He randomly shot holes in some of the storefronts, collected the casings, and then headed out. In his path was the man he killed, lying on the hallway floor. He glanced down. The dead man was looking right at him. Something registered. He paused for a split second to take a second look. His mouth got so dry he couldn’t swallow. He was tempted to go back, to make sure, but Victor Panko kept walking. Was it just the face of another, or was it the face of another brother?

A few minutes went by after the chaos ended. There was a hush in the north corridor. An old man wearing a knitted skullcap in the store opposite the rest rooms dropped his jeweler’s

loupe on the showcase counter and stepped toward the open door. He peeked outside and saw Ben sprawled on the floor. The man stretched his neck to check for activity. No movement anywhere. He ventured out the door, crunching small shards of glass beneath his feet as he cautiously approached the body. When he got closer, the jewelry shop owner saw the lifeless eyes, the pool of blood. The dread of death crept over him. He’d seen mangled and rotted bodies sprawled on the streets of the war-torn village where he grew up. The pious man straightened his back and looked to the heavens. With a hand gesture towards the east, he recited an Islamic payer for the dead.

The silence was suddenly broken by the clatter of footsteps coming from down the hall. The shaken man ran back inside the store and hid in the office.

Within minutes of the attack, tactical squads had their security net around the mall. The man who perpetrated the horrendous attack, Yuseff al-Kami, was out of ammo. Apparently, he never intended to die that day. The terrorist wanted publicity; to antagonize his captors. So, after several hours of negotiation, he surrendered.

Control of the crime scene was left to Larimer County Sheriff Larry Knezak, while law enforcement personnel from four jurisdictions searched the concourse for bodies. Outside the Apple store, propped up against the tire of Chevy’s newest model, was Ellie, one of the unlucky twelve; her hand still clutching her personal communication device. The forensic team had all but ended their search for victims, when a service dog and handler wandered into the north service corridor. Almost an hour after al-Kami was taken into custody, Ellie’s boyfriend, Ben Foxe, was discovered––the last to be added to the body count.

Moments after the forensic team completed their preliminary investigation and authorized the release of the murdered victims, Ben’s brother, Daniel, steered his e-bike onto the access road leading to the mall. In the distance, the boy spotted a chilling array of flashing lights; as he approached the mall entrance, he saw a sea of emergency responders and vehicles.

Daniel tried to raise his brother on voice activation. Nothing.

There was activity everywhere. People in uniform were shouting orders. Daniel kept looking for some indication of what the emergency might be. What about Ben? He might be in there. The uncertainty gnawed at his gut. Ben had schooled his brother on how to deal with physical and emotional challenges. Panic wasn’t an option. He chained his bike to a tree and walked toward the crowed of police gathered outside the main entrance.

“What’s going on?” Daniel asked the first cop he encountered.

“You don’t wanna know. Some lunatic killed a bunch of people.”

“In there?”

“Yeah.”

Daniel’s pulse quickened. He moved in closer. “I gotta get in––” He cut his sentence short when he heard someone call out, “Move ‘em back. They’re coming through.”

On the sidewalk, Daniel saw a procession of gurney’s being wheeled towards the emergency vehicles to his right. He heard the monotonous beep of several more vehicles backing into position on his left. He stepped closer.

“Sorry, kid, you’ll have to move,” said a uniformed EMT who just exited one of the recently parked vehicles.

“My brother, I need to know if he’s in there. Do you have any names?”

“Not yet, it’s too soon,” said the EMT.

Daniel’s legs quivered while he processed all the scenarios. None were good. He raced through the crowd of first responders in the direction of the gurneys, now staged in an area alongside the emergency vehicles. Before anyone could stop him, he began to lift the drapes, one by one, to look at each of the bodies.

A cop saw the breach and rushed over, just as Daniel finished his inspection of the last in line. “Hey, get away from there.”

Daniel turned in the cop’s direction and wavered. He dropped to his knees and puked coke and pizza at the curb.”

“You, okay?” asked the policeman.

He got to his feet, spitting out the last remnants. “Tryin’ to find my brother.”

“I know, kid, but you can’t . . . well, you know.”

“Are there any more?” asked Daniel.

The cop pointed to the side entrance about fifty yards away. “I’m told there’s one more on that side.”

Daniel turned in the direction of the north entrance and began to run. He seemed to have forgotten his brother’s coaching. The terror he felt couldn’t be distinguished from his childhood memories. He dashed by several sheriff’s deputies without saying a word, and broke through the band of yellow security tape cordoning off the walkway.

The race to the building was no contest. With the deputies in pursuit, Daniel reached the entrance first and swung open the doors. The sight of a gurney being wheeled in his direction made him dizzy with anticipation. Before the deputies were able to restrain him, Daniel made a dash toward the rolling table and ripped off the white sheet covering Ben. The deputy in the lead reached out and grabbed him around the waist. With Daniel kicking and screaming, the policeman pulled him back towards the door. Daniel gasped for air and shouted, “Who killed my brother? Who did this?”

Thoughts of Ben’s sacrifices and promise to protect him flashed in memory––survival in foster homes, schoolyard fights, the boy’s ordeal in Africa. The only family he had was gone.

The weight of emptiness and sorrow came crashing down. Daniel kissed the brass ring dangling from his neck and looked to the heavens with bloodshot eyes. He nearly toppled over before the policemen grabbed him again, this time beneath his arms. “We’ve got you,” said one of the deputies as they raised him up. When Daniel was on his feet, the men backed away and bowed their heads, able to offer no consolation.

***

Three days later, on December 2, 2044, Daniel made a final identification. In the bowels of the Larimer County administration building, he stood in silence as the medical examiner removed the starchy bedsheet from his brother’s pale, stiff body. Daniel clutched the military-issued dog tags retrieved from the coroner earlier that morning, closed his eyes, and recited the only prayer he knew, one his mother had taught him as a young child.

The media had their story and ran with it: Home-grown terrorist Yusef al-Kami murdered twelve and injured sixteen in a horrific attack at Foothills Mall. The incident in Fort Collins was classified a terrorist attack, and the accused began his processing through the federal court system. Eighteen months after the Colorado massacre, with no known ties to outside terrorist organizations, al-Kami was sentenced to life imprisonment without possibility of parole for his first-degree felony murder convictions. In light of other well-publicized murder cases, the non-lethal sentence released a flood of public outrage.

Daniel Foxe went on with his life.

Dead by Daybreak

Synopsis

A government “Reaper” agent sanctioned to hunt and kill convicted murderers learns that his next quarry may be innocent, and that he’s become a target himself.

Young DANIEL FOXE witnesses the murder of his brother in a terrorist attack . . . Fifteen years later, still haunted by his brother’s murder, the hardened Marine combat veteran serves in the Victim’s Rights Enforcement Department (VRED) with a cadre of assassins, charged by the courts to hunt and kill convicted murderers on behalf of the victims of violent crimes. Reapers in the fledgling operation are given a brief Pursuit Window to accomplish their task. The hunts start when darkness falls. If the target survives until dawn, they escape execution and spend the rest of their life behind bars.

DANIEL’S kill rate is 100%. . . .so far.

His latest assignment—LUIS ALVES—is different, because he may be innocent. Defense attorney ANNE PATERSON has the proof. Reluctant to derail their budding romance, she must convince DANIEL to stand down. Now DANIEL must decide whether to carry out his mission, or save ALVES from certain death. In his efforts to search out the truth, DANIEL exposes corruption in his own department; the pursuit takes a different turn. He’s out to stop a conspiracy that leads to the nation’s capital. Now he’s the hunted.

At Lee Penitentiary, where inmates convicted of capital crimes are routinely incarcerated, FOXE and PATERSON uncover disturbing details about events taking place under the direction of the warden. His jailhouse crew successfully hijack the inmate release and kill program, extort money and drugs from the inmate’s families, and. . . . murder their own.

In the end, officials in government who perpetrated a criminal conspiracy and the prison officials responsible for murder are brought to justice. The disturbing chain of events compel DANIEL to reevaluate the consequence and finality of his actions. He questions whether the moral ground on which he stands is any higher than those he hunts, and wonders whether court-mandated killings are just a recipe for more injustice. Disillusioned, and on the run for the murder of those responsible for his brother’s murder, DANIEL vows to continue his mission to seek retribution for victims of violent crimes outside the legal system he was sworn to uphold.

In the tradition of futuristic action-thrillers like Minority Report, Judge Dredd, and Total Recall, Dead by Daybreak challenges conventional thinking and tackles issues that are front and center in America today. The manuscript’s 100,000 words and 370 pages fit the benchmark for novels of this genre.