Unbeaten

by A. R. Shaw

  63

  Sloane

  “I can’t help it if I talk when I’m nervous,” Chuck said as they ran toward the back of the port authority building.

  “Just stop,” Sloane said. She had no idea how she put up with the guy when suddenly, as she had her back turned, a close shot rang out. When she looked, a guy fell in the parking lot behind them.

  “What?” Chuck shrugged. “He was aiming at you. I didn’t have time to warn you.”

  She didn’t say anything. She peeked inside the open doorway to find a long hallway, lit at the end by lantern light. “Marvin said he’s probably in the basement. Let’s look for a stairwell on this floor.”

  “Now I smell something burning?” Wren asked.

  But no one had an answer for the smoky aroma so prevalent in the hallway.

  Sloane motioned for half the team to remain in cover outside while she and the rest, including Chuck and Wren, went inside. She posted Boyd as the lookout in-between.

  Sloane took the lead as they formed a line against one side of the hall and made their way through. She stopped when she saw what she was looking for. “Stairs,” she said and motioned for the rest to follow her. Before she went down, she saw that Boyd was watching them from the opened doorway. He gave a thumbs-up, and she held an ironic hope that she wasn’t seeing him for the last time as she and the others behind her descended the stairs. She realized he was one of them now.

  At the end of the concrete stairs was an open doorway to a darkened room. There was only a little light coming through small rectangular windows at the very the very top of the wall. But she could barely see through them for the smoke that was so thick it burned their eyes.

  She used a small flashlight.

  “Ja-son?” gasped Wren immediately in a tone that threatened their cover.

  Sloane grabbed her daughter and cast the light to the side of the room and found a body leaning up against the wall. There was no hair on his head and his face was unidentifiable. Blood and char soaked the entire front of him. What got to her the most was the man’s hands and fingers were formed in a kind of claw, a sign of his agonizing death.

  “Calm down, that’s not him,” Chuck said.

  “How can you tell?” Wren asked as she held her nose and bent over, nearly retching.

  Chuck knelt down and touched the dead man’s boot. “Because your boyfriend wouldn’t be caught dead in these. Besides, they’re two sizes too big.”

  “Both the cells are open. He must have been in here,” Wren said.

  “It’s possible but there’s no sign of him in here now,” Sloane said.

  Then Boyd’s frantic whisper echoed down the stairwell. “Someone’s coming. Hurry!”

  64

  Davis

  Davis allowed himself to stop in the silence of his home. With the door closed behind him, he stood there in total dark. The utter quiet cut him through his core and weighed like a sickness in his soul. His hands were shaking. He knew he’d been a fool to have any shred of hope they were alive.

  “Oh, Cecile…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” he cried as he imagined his wife and boys ripped from this home. He tore through then, clear to the back of the house where the room he shared with her was, avoiding any glance at the boys’ room as he went. He couldn’t bear that. Not now.

  Inside the master bedroom, he found the bed unmade. Something Cecile never tolerated three steps after she’d risen for the day.

  In his mind, he began to piece the scenario together. They took them at night or early the next morning. “Dragged my wife and boys from their beds?” His voice quivered with anger as he could not help but picture them in front of a firing squad as he’d seen others in the past before them and did nothing about their peril.

  He flung open a drawer and then another. Soon he found himself pulling a shirt on over his wounds and socks over his shredded heels. He dressed and tied the laces to his boots. He refilled spare magazines with hidden ammo and grabbed a couple of other items Tale wasn’t aware he had in his possession.

  Those people beyond the bridge. That boy he dragged back here against his will. They were never the enemy, only an offering for mercy. Tale was the enemy and now Davis had nothing to lose. So Tale would pay.

  A gravelly voice then came out of the shadows and into the dim ambient light from the window. “What do you think you’re doing there, buddy?”

  65

  Jason

  “Uh…hi,” Jason finally said after the girl before him finally darted her attention around Jason.

  “Where’s Ivan?” she said timidly.

  Jason could tell she was afraid of him.

  “..eye…doughn know,” Jason said slowly, trying to hit all the vowels and consonants with the part of his tongue that remained.

  She backed away.

  “Wai…wai. I wone hur you.”

  The girl looked skeptical. “You talk funny.”

  Jason agreed and nodded. He smiled then.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Das-son.”

  “Jason…you mean Jason?”

  He nodded.

  “My name’s Elsa,” the girl said.

  66

  Ivan

  It was him, or it had been Davis, they’d shot at. He was gone now and what remained were four dead bodies. Linda bent to check one.

  “Don’t…don’t bother. We’ve got to go.”

  “But they might need help,” Linda said, tugging on his arm.

  Ivan looked around. “I don’t think so, darlin’. Davis doesn’t leave a job half-ass, typically. I think I know where he’s headed first, though. If we catch up to him, we can all get the hell out of here.”

  “Why should we stop him from doing what needs to be done?”

  “Because you and I both know he’ll die in the end. He’ll kill Tale, but he’ll die, too.”

  She nodded, knowing that was the truth of things. “Let’s go, then.”

  He’d always liked Linda. She was a practical woman.

  They kept out of sight as they ran two more blocks and down an alleyway. Ivan could always find Davis’s house in the dark. They’d both rambled the path between their homes in the pitch black of night, drunk in an attempt to mask the things they had to do for Tale.

  “How do you know he’s inside?” Linda whispered.

  “I don’t. He would have come through the front door. He’d expect me to come through the back as usual. That way we don’t get shot, maimed or killed before he realizes it’s us. You ought to stand back, though, just in case.” Ivan made purposeful strides up the back steps as he approached the door. He banged on the door with his customary ease in hopes Davis would recognize his old familiar pattern.

  The first three raps brought no response. Ivan leaned closer to the door with his good ear. He looked at Linda standing by herself in the dark. He reached for the handle. It opened with ease. Perhaps the door was always unlocked, though Ivan had never tried to open it on his own before. He stepped inside the darkened hallway, then motioned for Linda to remain outside. She slunk into the shadows of the detached garage and waited. He stepped inside and then closed the door behind himself.

  “Davis?”

  There was nothing. No sounds at all. The home was nothing more than an eerie crypt to a once-happy family’s memory. He stood there for a while, remembering the children’s chatter…the aroma in the kitchen as Cecile baked.

  He had a hard time swallowing with the lump that formed in his throat. There were many homes like this in Astoria now that only carried the memory of a happy family…most of them were dead now. It had to stop.

  Then with a creak coming from the front door of the house, Ivan stepped back into the shadows of the laundry room. He glanced out the back window, seeing the bare outline of Linda safe in the dark as someone came through the front door.

  His pulse quickened until he recognized his old friend’s familiar footsteps. As the seconds passed, Ivan decided it was best to let his friend have hi
s moment before he revealed himself. As hard as it was to overhear Davis’s pained sentiment, Ivan shook his head in the dark, wishing he could reach out and help his friend. But he knew that was impossible at the moment.

  He heard him bear his weight down onto the creaking bed in the master bedroom. Heard him fling open drawers, and he knew then that his friend had crossed the bridge from regret and failure to maddening anger and revenge.

  This was why he was here. Ivan knew he had to stop the man, or slow him down at least. There were things he wasn’t aware of, precious things.

  67

  Sloane

  The three of them raced up the stairs, joined by Boyd, as several voices descended from the upper floors. As they sprinted to the light at the end of the tunnel, Sloane wished she could hear what the people who were coming were saying, get some clue as to where Jason might be.

  They ran through to the outside, just in time, and Sloane’s people continued on to the sanctuary of the next building as they avoided the chaos around them.

  There were a few times during this whole process that Sloane knew their mission would change from a search and rescue to destroy. She wanted to find Jason first. But that didn’t seem possible now.

  “Maybe he escaped?” Boyd suggested.

  “That wasn’t him in there? Are you sure?” Wren pleaded with Chuck.

  “I told you, it wasn’t him,” Chuck said.

  “He’s got to be out here somewhere then,” Wren insisted.

  Sloane had not said a word yet. She let their words come out first and then waited for a lull in the conversation, as well as a decline in her rapidly beating pulse.

  After taking a deep breath, she looked at her daughter, knowing what her reaction would be, and then said to everyone, “Listen…this is where our mission changes. We’re no longer looking for Jason. We don’t have any leads. We’re going back down there. The enemy has trapped themselves. There’s no way out from the cell room but up. We’ll take them out and then regroup. I don’t think Tale was among them, but we’ll take them down one by one until we find him.” She stared into her daughter’s eyes again and so wanted to say…but you’re staying here. She couldn’t. Wren was just a good a shot as any of them and she’d proven herself capable. Sloane had no excuses to hold her back…no excuse to protect her. Hell, she needed her in this. She needed Wren to fight just like everyone else.

  “Mom, he’s still alive. I can feel it,” Wren said, even though a second ago she doubted the burned man wasn’t Jason.

  “Wren…we’re not giving up on Jason. We’re just switching gears,” Sloane said.

  “I’m not leaving without him,” Wren said defiantly, with a shake of her head.

  Chuck intervened before Sloane could say anything. “Take all that fucking drama, Chica, and bottle it. You’re going to need it in the next few seconds. Understand?”

  “We’re wasting time. Let’s…” Sloane began to say when her radio buzzed.

  “Sloane…You there?” Kent asked. His voice was hopeful and excited.

  “Yes. Are you okay? Did something happen?” Sloane said.

  “Listen…he contacted us. He’s escaped!”

  “Thank God!” Sloane said.

  “You can all head back now. He’s coming this way…and he says he’s bringing two little girls. Sloane…one of them is Boyd’s sister. Watch out though…we keep hearing a lot of gunfire in the distance. A lot of the guards are going your way.”

  Air escaped Sloane’s lungs then as she tried to think about what was most important. Her first inclination was to fight Tale. Kill him and end the craziness. She heard the gunfire in the distance, too. Her eyes flickered to her daughter and then to Boyd.

  “I believe that’s infighting you’re hearing. They’re going after that guy that took Jason. He’s one hell of a fighter. We’re confused as to why but whatever. Jason will never get across that bridge. Did you tell him how to get to the boats?” Sloane said while Wren burst into happy, relieved tears.

  “Yes, he’s going there to wait for you. You have to hurry, Sloane. Get the hell out of there. I don’t know what’s going on but stay out of the line of fire. Marvin said the shots sound like Davis is in action. He won’t stop for you, Sloane. Please get out of there. I’ve got to go. Someone’s coming.”

  The call ended abruptly, and Sloane wasn’t sure if she should be concerned for Kent’s safety or not.

  “My sister? Elsa’s with Jason? Is that what he said?” Boyd said, stunned.

  Sloane nodded, holding back tears. “He said so.”

  “We can’t let Tale live, Sloane.” Chuck voiced what was on her mind. She gave him a tight nod but smiled.

  “We’ll talk about it on the way. Let’s get to the boat.”

  68

  Davis

  Davis had his hands tearing at the man before him before he realized who he was.

  Ivan let him have those seconds. He didn’t fight back.

  “Tell me what I want to know!”

  Not one for dramatics, Ivan said, “You already know, mate. She’s dead. I’m sorry.”

  Davis still clenched Ivan’s shirt front and leaned his head down as his stomach retched. To hear the words was like a gut punch. Someone finally said the words he fought to hear.

  Davis stood again, released one hand, reached back and punched Ivan in the face.

  After the recoil, Ivan didn’t strike him back. He held him, as Davis began to sink to the floor.

  “Come on, man,” Ivan said with a slur. “We’ve got to go.” He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Linda’s outside, she’s waiting. We’re leaving here after we pick up a few things from my house.”

  “I’m not leaving. You take Linda and go… Get out of here. I’ve got to end this.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  A rapid knock came then…at the back of the door.

  “They’re coming,” Linda said. “Let’s go.”

  69

  Jason

  Every time he spoke it freaked out the older girl. The younger one was in some kind of trance. Jason had that one slung over his shoulder as he ran. Despite the burns on his hands and arms, he held onto Elsa with everything he had and ran through the fleeting darkness. The sun was threatening to come up on the distant horizon and he had to get these kids to the boats as fast as he could, before the light of day threatened their escape.

  Elsa, thankfully, knew where the radios were in the house and helped convey the messages back to Kent. He only hoped he wasn’t too late to keep Sloane from coming after him.

  His conversation with Kent was short and jagged, but Kent had said that Sloane had already made it to this side of the bridge, and he’d call her off as soon as possible. To meet her at the purple building by the boats. That was all he had to do…make it to the boats with the children and meet up with Sloane. Those were Kent’s words. Everything would be okay then. But that was not what happened.

  70

  Kent

  “Don’t shoot!”

  In the moments before this announcement, Kent had heard a rustling noise behind him. He’d glanced at Marvin, whose eyes were bulging in the direction behind him, and ended his radio transmission with Sloane abruptly. Then Kent lifted his weapon and turned on his heel all at once. He admitted to himself he was a moment too late in his maneuvers; had the persons before him been unfriendly, he’d be toast, or at least sporting a couple more holes in his already ragged attire.

  “Put your weapons down.”

  “We…don’t have any weapons,” said a small old man in a thin t-shirt and tightly belted blue jeans. He was so thin he reminded Kent of a wispy twelve-year-old girl.

  “What do you want?”

  “Food if you have it. But I’m not here for myself. I’m here to warn you. I’ve been watching, you see. Don’t know what foolishness you folks are up to, but you won’t make it long over there,” he said, extending his scrawny, sinewy arm out over the bridge. “Sun’s coming up
. I asked myself if I should get involved late last night when you folks showed up. I said no then. It’s near morning now and by the grace of God, you folks ought to get outta here. Nothing for you over there but death,” the man said, ending with a crescendo.

  “What’ll happen when the sun comes up?” Kent asked.

  “They’ll change guards. They’ll spot you right away. Take everything you have and your lives,” he said, shaking his head at Kent like he was an idiot.

  “He’s right,” Marvin said.

  “Did you…not tell me something important, Marvin?”

  Marvin chuckled. “No, Doctor Sinister…I’d think it was pretty apparent the bridge will become an issue once daylight arrives. That is, if there’s anything left over once the gunfight’s over.”

  Kent turned his attention back to the old man. “What do you do over here for food? Are there others?”

  “Just me and my bride. She’s…at…home,” the old man said, choking on the last few words. His throat was closing up with emotion.

  Kent decided not to ask about her. He suspected it was too late. Reaching into his bag, Kent found a ration bar. “Here, have this. Eat it slowly. And here are a couple cans of food too.”

  The old man put the cans in his loose pockets. His hands shook as he opened the wrapper on the bar. “Eat it slowly or you’ll throw up. Stay out of sight. If we can, we’ll leave you more by the bridge later. Just stay out of the way and keep safe. Do you understand?”