by David Reese
Paul’s heart began to race. His life flashed before him. Could he take out Scott? Paul and Scott had never really fought. Why would they? They were on the same team. Paul had taken for granted that Scott had a better build than him. Scott was more trained and skilled with his weapon and with his shadow power. Paul on the other had was more strategic. He was more deliberate. He was more powerful in terms of summoning the power of darkness.
The way he saw it, he and Scott were equally matched. It meant if he decided to take on Scott, the fight would drag on, until Irene and the rest came in to arrest him. Then he’d be shipped off to Purgatory never to be seen again. The kids, on the other hand, would still be incinerated on the spot without consideration, without recourse, without investigation.
“A hundred and thirteen illegals,” Scott pronounced. He was in the back of the room, making his way to the front.
The way he said ‘illegals’ made Paul’s skin crawl. A shadow-powered man who used his power to rape unsuspecting women was an illegal. A shadow-powered woman who used her power to rob banks was an illegal. A shadow-powered crime lord who used his power to push crack and guns was an illegal. A shadow-powered terrorist who used his power to terrorize innocent communities was an illegal. Paul had no trouble killing these guys in the past.
But a bunch of scared ass kids? Illegals? Hardly. For Scott to have branded them illegals already meant he was thinking of protocol. Because the protocol was clear they had to set the kids on fire. But how could he…?
Scott grabbed Paul's hand, startling him for a moment. He pulled Paul to the corner of the room.
“Protocol’s clear, boss,” Scott whispered. “I need you to remove yourself from this situation. You don’t have to watch.”
Paul tore his hand from Scott’s, unreasonably angered. “Fuck you, Scott!” he boomed. “You want to fucking kill these kids?!”
Scott’s eyes widened in shock at Paul’s response. Then they narrowed in rage. “Be very careful what you say to me, Paul.”
“Or what?” Paul blurted. “You’d run to the Council and snitch on me?” Paul was beginning to feel his power tug at him. Shadow energy boiled in his innards, ready to be unleashed. Ready to leak up life. Ready to snuff out light. Paul shut his eyes and tried to rein in his powers.
Scott placed a calm hand on Paul and spoke in a friendly whisper. “Think, Paul,” he urged him. “Think. These foreign kids are not worth risking your promising career over.”
Paul shook his head, trying to refute the logic with which Scott spoke.
“You can’t save them,” Scott said. “Even if you take me out. The others are outside. They have this ship surrounded. Where will you go with a hundred plus kids? You’ll end up getting arrested and for what? The kids will still die.”
“I can’t, Scott,” Paul pleaded. He opened his eyes, which were already teary. Looking Scott in the eye, he said, “this is crossing the line, Scott. I can’t do it.”
Scott’s hand tightened on Paul’s shoulder. “You don’t have to. Leave the ship. I’ll handle it.”
“You don’t understand, Scott,” Paul said. “I can’t let you do it.”
Scott’s face hardened. “You’re going to get yourself killed, Paul,” Scott warned.
Paul pulled away from Scott’s hold. He grabbed his assault rifle in a threatening pose and said, “So be it.”
Scott was about to speak, when the captain of the ship was shoved into the room. He tumbled to the ground all bloodied up and bartered. Standing in the doorway was a tall, sexy-as-hell lady, who was wearing a black, tight-fitting jumpsuit. She held a flame thrower in one hand and gallon of fuel in the other.
She looked at the kids first. There was not as much as an iota of emotion in her eyes. Then she glanced to the side, where Paul and Scott had been whispering to each other.
She said, “Let’s burn these kids down.”
Chapter 4
Paul was dumbfounded. He only stared at Irene. Scott on the other hand walked over to her side. He said nothing.
The captain recovered from the ground. He looked at Irene, shock evident on his face.
“You would kill children?” he said. “What kind of monster are you?!”
Irene squeezed the trigger briefly, sending flame into the air momentarily. She grinned at him. “The good kind of monster,” she replied.
The captain looked from Irene to Scott and back to Irene. The confusion in his eyes was understandable. How could two human beings condone incinerating children? Who did that?
The captain then looked at Paul. “You would allow this?” he asked.
Paul frowned. “Why were you transporting powered children into the country? You knew what would befall them. You knew we’d come for you. Yet you did it all the same. You are the one who brought this fate upon them, not me.”
The captain’s face fell in horror. He made to speak, but Paul raised a hand to shut him off. “You will answer for your crimes. You will also answer for their crimes. But we are not killing them … at least not now. Not here.”
That drew a surprised gaze from Irene. Scott didn’t look surprised. But he didn’t speak.
“What do you mean, boss?” she asked, uncertain. Her aim dropped. It was almost as if she didn’t like the prospect of not killing the kids. Paul wondered why he still had feelings for her, knowing what kind of a monster she was. It was beyond him.
“I mean we’re not going to set them ablaze,” Paul replied with a hard tone. “We’re going to dock them and transport them to a hospital, where they can be taken care off. Then we are going to find out where they came from and so on.”
Irene’s confusion only increased. She glanced at Scott for explanations. Scott shrugged. “Don’t look at me. He’s the boss,” Scott said.
Irene glared back at Paul.
Paul didn’t dignify her glare with one of his own. Instead he looked away. He tapped on the communication device in his ear as he walked over to the captain. He pulled an electronic handcuff from his utility belt and cuffed the captain. Then he hefted the man to his feet.
“Paul to the DHS tac-team lead, come in,” Paul said.
“This is Captain Rolland, sir,” said a voice in his ear. “We have secured the vessel, but we are standing back while you do your shadow work. We are also keeping the media away. They somehow got wind of this operation.”
“Good man,” Paul said. “But I want you to allow the media access. I also want you to proceed into the vessel. We are taking prisoners…”
“Say again, sir,” the man interrupted. “Did you say you are taking prisoners?”
“Roger that, Captain,” Paul replied, refusing to meet Irene’s heated stare. “Prepare a bus. There are a lot of kids.”
“Copy that, sir,” the man said, “DHS tac-team lead out.”
“Thomas, come in,” Paul said.
“I heard it all, sir,” Thomas replied. “We’re allowing them access to the vessel. What do you want us to do with the sailors?”
“Hand them over to the local PD,” Paul replied.
Thomas didn’t reply for a moment. When he did, he said, “Are you sure about that, sir?”
Protocol demanded they don’t leave hostages. The fact that shadow-powered people existed was still a secret to the rest of the world. Usually, when they operated, they killed everyone involved so the news wouldn’t get out. Now, Paul was telling Thomas to let the sailors go, sailors who had seen them use their shadow powers. Sailors who could talk to the police. It was a massive breach of security.
“Do it,” Paul said.
“Roger that, sir,” Thomas replied.
Paul shoved the captain in Irene’s direction. Irene didn’t take him. Instead, she smashed an angry fist into his right temple, sending him to the ground, unconscious. She tapped on her earpiece to disable it. Then she glared at Paul.
“What the fuck, Paul?” Irene bellowed. “You want to get yourself killed?”
Scott folded his arms. He was fuming, but he wasn
’t saying anything.
“Pick him up and dock him,” Paul said in a measured voice. He was still wondering why they were all fighting him, when they knew he was just trying to save a bunch of kids.
“Fucking answer me, Paul!” she yelled.
Paul heaved a sigh. “If you speak to me like that again, I will have you arrested, Irene,” Paul said, his voice totally calm. “Now, I gave you a direct order. You will obey me otherwise I will dock you as a sympathizer.”
Irene’s mouth fell agape, her face exchanging fury for shock. Her entire body trembled with rage.
“He gave you a direct order, Irene,” Scott muttered. Though he was calm, though he was obviously on Irene’s side, he spoke with an edge in his voice.
Irene shut her mouth up, frowned, and nodded. She slung the flame thrower over her back, shifting the gallon of petrol to her other hand. She roused up the captain with a couple of slaps, before helping him to his feet and leading him out of the room.
Moments after she was gone, DHS agents trouped into the room and helped the kids out. They found out that some of the kids were injured, while some were disabled. Paul made sure that the TV news crew and reporters who had gathered saw everything and got everything on camera.
The DHS lead agent had arranged for about thirty black, tinted SUVs to ferry the kids to the nearest medical center. Paul had ordered Thomas to go with the vehicles to ensure that the transport wasn’t waylaid en route. Paul’s superiors could have sent another tac-team to arrest the vehicles and kill the kids. Thomas would ensure that that didn’t happen.
The sailors and terrorists were handed to the local PD. The DHS agents cordoned off the ship, stationing a unit of ten agents to keep the vessel cordoned off. A Shadow Corps clean-up team would come in later to destroy the ship, since shadow energy was still very much evident all over the vessel.
Paul and his team of agents were the last to exit the vessel. Although the DHS had succeeded in sending off passersby, they had left a couple of news crew teams behind according to Paul’s instructions.
A fleet of four black Cadillac Escalades lined the dock. Their trunks were open and the hidden armory underneath the trunk’s carpet was open and in clear view of the TV news crew, who were recording the whole thing.
Paul and his team went on to remove their weapons and stow them away in the trunks.
Scott, Irene, and Paul shared the lead vehicle. Irene was the first to finish stowing away her weapons in the trunk. Before she went into the car, she muttered into Paul’s ears, “You’re finished.” And she was gone.
Paul glanced at Scott, who had heard.
“Don’t look at me, boss,” he replied. “I warned you.” He finished up and went into the car.
Paul’s last weapon was a pistol, which he gingerly dropped in its casing before sealing off the armory and returning the trunk’s carpet that hid the armory. He taped a button and the trunk closed up.
Paul heaved a sigh, swirled on his heels, and marched to where the DHS agents were keeping the reporters and the TV news crews in line. He had one more thing to do before he was shipped off to Purgatory. He was going to give a speech.
Chapter 5
The moment Paul stepped up to them, they started bombarding him with questions. He looked over their heads for a moment, trying to gain his bearing, sifting through his knowledge, deciding what he could say and what he dared not say if he still wanted to keep his head on top of his body. When he had set an imaginary boundary in his mind, he looked down into their faces.
He pointed at a sharp nosed reporter off to the right. “I’ll take your question.”
“What happened here?” asked the man.
“Good question,” Paul said, turning away from him to address everyone. “We intercepted a transmission that there was going to be a shipment of contraband into the country through Boston. We immediately put together a string operation to locate the ship and take into custody the transporters. We found out that the contraband were little children who had been wrongfully snatched from their families and forced into illicit child trafficking.
“We were able to rescue the kids, though some of them have been injured because of the harshness of sea travel. They have been safely conveyed to the nearest medical center, where they are receiving medical treatment. After this, we intend to hand these children over to the Department of State to return these kids back to their parents.”
Paul pointed to another reporter in the back. She asked, “What organization do you work for? Why does the DHS and the police report to you, yet you wear no insignia.”
Paul smiled. This was getting good. “We are a special task force within the Department of Homeland Security. Our major charter is to protect the country from unconventional threats that the conventional armed forces and security apparatuses cannot handle.”
“If that is so, then stopping an illicit child trafficking trade from happening seems to fall right under the jurisdiction of the FBI or the US Navy or even Boston PD. Certainly not your special task force,” replied the same reporter.
Paul paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. The reporters sensed his apprehension and realized that they had asked him a very sensitive question. He expected the questions following this one to center on this area.
“Before we realized what the threat was, we were warned that it could be anything,” Paul said. “Also, the transmission we got intoned that the threat could be unconventional and that it had to be contained by unconventional means. This was why we were called in.”
“What do you mean by the threat being unconventional?” asked a reporter off to the right. “Also, what do you mean by unconventional means?”
“I mean that the threat could have been something the Navy or the Police or any of the security operative are not trained or equipped to deal with,” Paul said. “It’s not everything you can contain with a gun and a bullet, you know? My task force is specially equipped to handle these threats that firepower may not be able to handle.”
“How do you solve these ‘unconventional threats’?” asked another reporter.
Paul tethered on the verge of answering that one directly. He wanted to tell them about the shadow world. He wanted to spill the true secrets of the Shadow Corps. But he knew that if he did, there was no way he was living through today. They’d kill him the moment he set foot at Headquarters.
He had decided to give this speech to bring the country’s attention on what had happened in the harbor today. His intention was to make it hard for his superiors to go and do to the kids what he failed to do to them back on the ship. With a lot of attention on these kids, it would be hard to incinerate them all. There was a greater chance that they’d make it through this after all. Maybe even find their ways back to their respective families.
If Paul went on to spill his guts, the Shadow Corps could go on to kill the kids, seeing how their activities were already in the light.
Paul made his decision and looked into the cameras. “We solve these unconventional threats by unconventional means,” Paul replied. “That’ll be all for now. Thank you.”
Paul turned away amidst an uproar of questions and walked to the waiting vehicles. He got into the passenger’s seat behind of the lead SUV.
“Step on it,” he commanded Scott, who was at the driver’s seat.
Scott nodded. He threw the car into gear. The car roared down the dock towards the exit. Irene was in the front passenger seat beside Scott. She was visibly angry, looking at the seaside through the glass.
The air was cold and tight with tension.
“You know what they’re going to do to you, right?” Irene asked after they had been driving down the expressway for ten minutes. At this ungodly hour of the day, the road was totally deserted.
“I know,” Paul admitted. “I couldn’t stand and watch as you butchered those innocent kids.”
“We don’t decide who is innocent and who is not,” Irene said, her voice calm. “The protocol does. We don�
��t decide who lives and who dies. The protocol does. You’ve never had problems with the protocol before. Why now? Why ruin everything we’re trying to build?”
Paul didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure if she was referring to their relationship, which had been going on for the last three months or if she was referring to Shadow Corps, which had recently left its infancy stage and was now in its adolescence.
“Truth be told, Irene,” Paul replied. “I’ve never never had problems with our methods.”
This drew a sharp gaze from Irene. Even Scott glared at Paul through the rearview mirror. Paul shrugged at them both.
“I’ve shot agents in the head for statements a lot less than what you’ve just said, Paul,” Scott said.
Paul didn’t respond. He looked out the expressway. They were currently speeding across East Boston headed towards the airport. Their private jet was already on the runway, waiting to lift them off to DC, where their HQ was. Paul didn’t look forward to going back there. His fate was so uncertain he felt the urge to jump out of the vehicle and run.
Scott growled, pulling to the side of the road. Stomping on the brake, he brought the car to a screeching halt. He tapped the car intercom button and spoke. “Minor car trouble, guys. Proceed to the airport, we’ll be there in a few.”
“Are you sure you don’t need help?” said Michelle, one of their team members.
“Nope,” Scott replied.
The three vehicles sped past them, taking the next exit ahead onto the road that leads straight to the airport, their taillights disappearing around the bend.
Paul glanced at Scott, unsure what he was doing. Even Irene seemed unsettled.
Scott twisted in the driver’s seat so he could look straight at Paul. “I’m not going to sugar coat this. You are in deep shit. Chances are, once you get back to headquarters, you’ll be branded a sympathizer. Worst still, you’ll be charged with treason. Your life will become forfeit. You’ll be transferred to Purgatory, where you’ll die a slow and horrible death.”