by S D Rogue
Both men stared at each other. “We didn’t come this week.” One of them offered.
“Then tell me the last code you used and how long ago it was,” Hana said.
The other man said, “We don’t use the code. We work off base.”
“But you do go in—for meetings and such.”
“Of course.”
The other offered, “Don’t let him manipulate you, Hana. We need to take him in before he hurts more people.”
“I have one problem with all of this,” Hana explained coolly.
They looked at her innocently.
“If you’d been to the agency even once, then you would know there is no code on the front door.”
She didn’t need to see the surprise on their faces to know they weren’t part of the agency. Their looks said it all. She quickly bent down and exchanged her rifle for the launcher. “And you said you were unarmed. That’s kind of true.” She looked beyond them at the SUV. “But the guy in the car is locked and loaded.” She focused on the front window and said, “Use that little radio piece in your ear to tell your guy to stand down and step outside—we all know this launcher is strong enough to take that bullet proof window out.”
The man to the right who had initially called her name said something quietly into the earpiece.
Hana looked at him and smiled. “Smart.” The door opened. A Hispanic man with a buzzed head exited. “Stand by your friends—slowly.”
When he did she said, “Take out the gun in your back pocket—the one your friend told you to keep hidden.”
The man with the earpiece looked at her oddly. “How did you hear that?”
She ignored him. “Bashir, come help me—bring zip ties.”
Bashir cautiously exited the plane. “Guys are lucky it wasn’t me with the gun,” he said, tying their hands as Hana held her position, and kept her aim on them.
“Now what?” Bashir asked, turning towards her after he had tied them.
“Now we get them to talk.” Hana smiled. “There’s a knife in the locker—bring it to me.”
Bashir reluctantly said, “We don’t have a lot of time—I think we should leave.”
“The knife,” Hana said sternly.
Bashir nodded, went to the plane, and returned with the knife. Hana put her weapon on top of the oil tank and then walked in front of the men, who were now lying face down. “There’s a word: lingchi.” She looked at the knife and smiled at her reflection. “Do you know it?”
No one spoke. Their eyes were avoiding hers.
“It’s Chinese for death by a thousand cuts,” she said slowly, letting it sink in. “It was a torture method, so gruesome that it was banned a hundred years ago—victims were very slowly sliced to death.” She paused, then added with a twisted smile, “The problem was, these people didn’t really know how to make cuts, so they tended to kill them pretty quick—to be really be good at it, you need to have medical training.”
She walked closer and knelt down in front of them. Two of the men seemed unfazed and were focusing their eyes on the ground beneath them, but one of them was looking at her nervously. She focused on him. “You seem to know all about me—so I’m sure you know all about my medical training and whatnot.”
“Hana, you’ve got this all wrong,” the man who was nervously looking at her said. “I swear to you that we are the good guys.”
She nodded understandingly, then slowly walked to the man’s leg, rolled up his pant, and sliced a thin piece of skin from his calf. He squealed and squirmed. Hana returned in front of him and bent down, staring into his eyes. “999 slices to go.” She slowly returned to his leg.
“The plane’s fueled and ready,” Bashir said. “I guarantee you there are more on their way as we speak. We need to leave.”
Hana ignored him. She returned to the same spot and went just a little deeper. “998,” she called. Then again, “997.” As she kept returning to the same spot and went wider and deeper, his pain level became more audible.
“We are just hired guns!” the man finally cried.
“Don’t,” the Hispanic man who had been in the car warned, looking over at him.
“I didn’t sign up to be tortured by some Nazi nurse.”
Hana was now in front of him kneeling with a bright smile on her face. “Hired by who?”
“You know how it is. No names. Cash payments.”
Hana sighed, disappointed. “You’ve got to give me something I can use.”
He looked up at her helplessly.
“Not another word, Gomez,” the man next to him said.
“There was a meeting when we left,” Gomez said. “Bunch of Asian guys—sounded like they were speaking Japanese—and there was a map of Japan on the wall. There was a white guy too—he was speaking whatever they were.” He looked up scarred. “They said Bashir needed to be brought back alive, but you they said just try not to harm.”
Hana continued her stern stare. “And Frank?”
“Who?”
“Frank!” Hana yelled, now full of emotion. “You said Bashir killed him!”
“I don’t know!” the man cried back with panic. “They told us to say that!”
“How long before the others get here?”
“There’s no others. I swear!” He looked at her desperately.
“Just when I thought I could trust you,” Hana said, disappointed. “If there’s no others, then why did your friend over there request backup just before exiting the car?”
He became nervous. “I wasn’t in the car! I didn’t know!”
She looked at the driver. “How far away?”
“10 or 15 minutes tops.”
She turned to Bashir, who was standing near the cockpit with his arms crossed. “You heard the man—let’s get out of here.”
Hana looked one final time at the man, then ran to the plane and got in.
“What kind of messed up nurse are you?” Bashir asked, taxiing forward, maneuvering around the men and their car. They were squirming and trying to get up.
“The kind that gets answers.” Hana starred at him carefully. “Bashir, look at me.”
Bashir turned.
“Did you hurt Frank?”
“No, Hana—I swear.” The plane began speeding down the runway. He pulled back on the throttle. As they climbed, Bashir turned again. “Don’t worry about them. They were just trying to get to you.”
She nodded.
As they began to level off, Bashir looked at Hana carefully and said, “Now look at me.”
Hana turned.
“You said you saw shadows at the apartment. Fine. And maybe you did just see the car lights at the hangar before me.” His expression got more serious. “But there’s no way a light told you what they said in the car—what aren’t you telling me, Hana?”
She didn’t answer.
He looked at her carefully. She didn’t have to answer. “Who knows?”
Hana shrugged. “A few people at the agency. That’s why I was recruited—that’s why I wanted to work there.” She explained. “But I’m not like the other supers. I have crazy good hearing—but that’s not exactly a power that fights off the bad guys.”
Bashir raised his eyebrows. “No? Certainly helped us several times today.”
“I became a medic so I wouldn’t have to do the kind of stuff I did back there.”
Bashir looked at her and nodded. He moved his hand and placed it on top of hers, rubbing it softly. “We have a long trip. Why don’t you get some sleep?”
###
Hana should have been tired, but she was full of adrenaline and couldn’t sleep. About two hours after they took off, just as she finally started to nod off, Bashir said, “Did your crazy hearing hear that?” Bashir pointed at the radar.
“What is it?” Hana asked groggily trying to make out what his finger was pointing to.
“Company.” He paused. “And whatever it is, it’s a wh
ole lot faster than us.” He started unbuckling his seat. He reached for a pack under the seat in the back and tossed it at her. “You’re going to need this.”
“What is it?”
“Parachute,” Bashir said. “We are going to have to jump.”
“Out of the airplane?” She asked, and then clarified, “I’m sorry, that’s a dumb question—I’m just a little confused.”
“We jump now and we’ll have the cover of night,” he explained as he grabbed another parachute behind him. “They’ll think we are still in the plane. And we find another mode of transportation on the ground. We don’t have that much further to go.”
Bashir began to quickly strap on the chute. Before she could protest, he had opened the airplane door. A loud noise filled the plane, as did of the gushing wind. He stood on the wing with a firm grip on the plane with his left hand. With his right, he reached in. He called over the noise, “Don’t worry. I’ll help you.”
Hana didn’t have much choice. She quickly put on the parachute and strapped an altimeter to her wrist so she’d know when to pull the chute.
“Have you ever done this?” Bashir yelled over the wind.
“It’s been a while,” Hana said. As she began to exit the plane, the wind made her dress flap upward.
“Do you know what to do?”
Hana nodded. “Let’s just get it over with.” Before Bashir spoke again, she had jumped from the wing. Her dress immediately lifted. At least he picked nice underwear, she thought as she did her best to pull her dress in so she could see. She looked up. It was dark, but the moon was bright enough to illuminate Bashir, who was not far behind her.
The last time she had jumped from a plane, she was 20 years old;.she had been on a training mission in the Middle East—and it had been in the daylight. The darkness added an element of difficulty to the jump, and she carefully watched the altimeter.
“You okay?” Bashir called down to her.
She looked up. As she did so, she saw a flash go over her head, and then the bright orange of an explosion. The plane they had just been in, took a direct hit. Seconds later, she felt the warmth of the explosion. Whoever was after them had just tried to kill them. It was the third time that day that someone had tried to kill her.
She saw the jet in the distance. It continued straight for several seconds, then turned away. Hana looked at the altimeter on her wrist. They were low enough to open the chute, and she pulled the string.
Chapter Four
A
s Hana’s feet touched the ground, she instantly wished she was wearing a better pair of shoes—and clothes appropriate for jumping—and she had pulled her hair back—in short, she instantly wished that she could have been prepared to jump out of an airplane.
She collapsed on the dirt and flopped backwards, letting out a frustrated yell.
Bashir landed not far from her; he quickly released his pack and ran to her. He had heard her scream, and as he got closer, he could make out that she was visibly upset. “Are you hurt?”
Hana didn’t answer at first. She finally sat up and sighed, then explained softly, “I know I act like some commando, but I didn’t sign up for this. I’m not a combat nurse anymore!” She said frustrated. “I’m sorry—I’m just tired.”
Bashir reached out his hand and pulled her up. “I should have never gotten you into this. I didn’t know where else to turn.”
Hana took a deep breath and tried to hold back the tears. “Well I’m here now.” She looked around. “Where exactly is here?”
Bashir looked up at the sky. Only the moon and stars illuminated the desert. They had landed in a farm field. “We aren’t far from Fresno. It’s just east of here.”
Hana looked down at her designer flats. “I guess I should have asked for sneakers.”
Bashir held out his hand. “You want to see something cool?”
Hana nodded. “That might make for a nice change of scenery.”
Without warning, Bashir swooped her into his arms. She looks at him, confused. “Hold on tight, okay?”
The farm instantly became more of a blur as Bashir’s speed began to plow across it.
The first time she saw Bashir’s speed she wondered what it would be like. It wasn’t what she expected. Maybe it was different for him. It was like being on a fast train, but with the air hitting her—it made everything more thrilling. She could barely make out trees as he sped along the side of a road.
There were no cars, but if there had been, they would have only seen a blur and would never been able to make sense of it.
As he continued to run, Hana relaxed her body into his arms. If she had seen her future self even a few hours ago she would have been disappointed. She didn’t like being taken care of. But in this moment, she felt safe, and it felt good.
Several minutes passed and Bashir stopped in front of a glowing Motel 6 sign.
“Welcome to Fresno,” Bashir said, gently putting Hana down. “So, what did you think? It’s something else, right?”
Hana looked around. “Motel 6?”
“Not the motel,” Bashir laughed, “the speed.”
“It kind of takes your breath away.”
He smiled. “Come on. We’re going to get a room for the night—at least what’s left of it.”
Inside, Bashir asked, “Is two beds ok? Or do you want your own room?”
One bed would be fine, Hana almost caught herself saying. “Two is fine.”
He stepped forward, talked to the clerk, and then pulled out an overstuffed wallet. There were several hundred dollars inside. When they left the office with a key, Hana asked, “So what’s up with the cash?”
“I got it from the plane just before we jumped—it was in the envelope in the back of the safe. Got to pay all cash if you’re on the run. Harder to trace.”
“I think I went about this ‘on the run’ thing all wrong. If I knew I was jumping from an airplane, I wouldn’t have asked for a dress,” Hana said as Bashir opened the door. She took one look at the bed and said, “It’s not exactly great for sleeping either.”
“But you do look good.”
###
Bashir took a shower after they had settled in. When he came out, he was freshly shaven but still wearing the same clothes.
“You clean up nicely,” Hana said, looking at his beard. “Come over here and let me look at you.”
He looked at her confused.
“The bandage,” she explained. “Take off your pants.”
“You’re forward, aren’t you?”
Hana rolled her eyes. “You brought me here for a reason, so let me help you—and don’t make it weird.”
He reluctantly pulled his jeans off and walked closer to Hana. “I think it’s all healed.”
Hana sat on the edge of the bed and pulled back the bandage; she studied his thigh carefully and was surprised when she saw there was nothing there—it was completely healed. She ran her hand up his inner thigh where the wound had been, and he flinched. “Sorry—my hands are cold. What do you feel when I touch you here?” she said, rubbing it softly and looking up at him.
His face got a little red and he looked towards his boxers. “My body’s going to show you how it feels if you don’t stop doing that.”
Hana rolled her eyes and pushed him back. “I said don’t make it weird.”
“I’m sorry—it’s just my way of easing the tension.”
“How are you feeling? Did using your power wear you out again?” Hana asked.
“Not as much as before—but I feel like it’s gone now.”
She stood and motioned him towards the bed. “Lay down. Let me massage you.”
Bashir laid face down on the bed, and Hana’s firm hands immediately began rubbing his muscles. She had helped Bashir exercise once before he got injured, but she had never massaged him. His legs weren’t like most Paladins. They were like rocks. The nurse side of her wanted to know more about how th
ey worked, but the woman side of her just wanted to feel them wrapped around her.
She started to get warm thinking about Bashir but snapped out of it quickly. Stay professional, Hana, she thought, you don’t date Paladins.
“You’re pretty good at this,” Bashir noticed.
“Does it make you feel different?” Hana asked. “Like your power is being restored?”
“It…” Bashir paused as her hand made it higher up his leg to his inner thigh near where his wound had been. “It feels good.”
Hana blushed and moved her hand lower. Stay professional, she kept telling herself.
“How old were you when you knew you were different?” Bashir asked as she continued to work his muscles.
“I wasn’t born this way,” Hana explained. “Some people get nerve damage and it limits their ability—and then there’s me.”
Bashir turned and looked up at her curiously.
“I was 17. My family was coming home from seeing my grandma in Los Angeles. We were on the freeway and it was late. Drunk driver got on the freeway going the wrong way.” She paused. “It was as bad as you’d expect. We spun, other cars hit us…it seemed like it was all in slow motion. When it was all over, I had this ringing. Once it started getting better, I noticed my hearing was—well it was what it is.”
“Do your parents know?”
Hana shook her head. “I don’t tell my parents much.”
“Not close?”
Hana shrugged. “It’s not that—I mean we aren’t as close as we could be. They don’t like me being in the Army. They’re not a big military family. They wanted me to become what my mom calls a “real nurse”. My mom’s a retired reporter. She still writes occasionally for Spanish language papers—lots of op-eds about corruption in the government and misuse of power.”
“She might be on to something,” Bashir chuckled.
“You guys would probably hit it right off,” Hana said. “It doesn’t help that my brother’s a lawyer, so he’s more the hero I guess.”
“It must be hard—distracting really—to hear that good.”
Hana shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to it.” She moved to the other side of him and began rubbing her fingers into his back. “I mean it was hard at first—college was the worst. You know how hormones are in college. It’s bad enough you have to listen to friends’ boyfriend drama—but to hear it—and then to…hear it! And to know who’s with who. I used to sleep with these expensive noise cancelling earmuffs!”