His Name Was Zach (Book 2): Her Name Was Abby

by Martuneac, Peter

  Abby took another knee to the back of her thigh and she ripped the door open. She led her squad into the carpeted hallway and looked at the number on the first door to her right: 548. Damn, he’s at the other end of the hallway, she thought. Abby switched the rifle back to her right side and glided down the hallway, her squad following her in like manner. The helicopters had departed by now, enveloping the agents in complete silence.

  Reaching the end of the hallway, Abby paused next to door 501. This door was likely locked, so they would have to breach it. Abby’s squad leader moved up next to her, carrying a shotgun loaded with shells specifically designed for breaching doors. He fired twice, at both the door hinges, then slung the shotgun across his back and brought his SCAR rifle up to his shoulder.

  “Now!” he shouted.

  Abby donkey-kicked the door open and the squad leader rushed into a dark room, shouting ‘nobody move’ as Abby and the rest of the squad filed in behind him. Rifle-mounted flashlights and green lasers darted this way and that like some kind of night club as the agents swept the apartment, room by room. But the apartment seemed empty.

  Perplexed, agents began searching cupboards and closets now while the squad leader talked to the agents out on the street via his radio, updating them on their situation.

  Abby wandered through the main bedroom, having checked the closet while another agent checked under the bed. Idly, she ran her hand along the top of a dusty dresser then gave it a gentle knock on the side.

  “That’s odd,” Abby thought. The dresser sounded empty when she hit it. She pulled on a couple of the drawers, confirming her suspicions. Now why would someone have an empty dresser in their room? If they didn’t have anything with which to fill it, why not get rid of it? On a whim, Abby slid her fingers behind the dresser, feeling only wall. Then she pushed farther in, getting most of her hand behind the dresser.

  Abby gasped quietly as her fingertips felt a rough edge and then nothing at all. She ran her hand down and up, confirming that there was a sizable hole there. If she remembered the layout of the apartment and the hallway correctly, this wall was around the corner of the apartment’s front door, just across from the stairwell door.

  She marched quickly out of the bedroom, back out into the hallway as the rest of the agents stood around, awaiting further instructions from their squad leader. She turned the hallway corner just in time to see the door to the stairwell click shut.

  Abby flung the door back open and stepped into the stairwell with her rifle up. She looked down the stairs in time to see a shoed foot pass out of sight. “Stop!” she called out as she hurried down the stairs. She turned another corner in the stairwell. BANG BANG!

  Abby ducked back behind the corner as two bullets hissed by, impacting the wall. Ears ringing, she popped around the corner, firing two rounds of her own where the man had been, but he was already gone. She leaped down the short flight of stairs and turned the corner again, leaping down another set stairs.

  She popped around the next corner, jumping across to the other wall with her rifle up, just in time to catch the man on the landing below her as he tried to get away.

  “Freeze, asshole!” she yelled, and the man stopped and raised his hands, still clutching a revolver.

  “I’ll talk!” the man cried. “Names, places, anything! Just please don’t kill me! I don’t wanna die!”

  At that moment, two stairwell doors were flung open, the one from the fifth floor and the one down on the first floor. Both squads heard the gunfire and were now moving in on what they correctly assumed was the fleeing suspect. “DAS!” they shouted, confirming to whoever may be in the stairwell that DAS agents were on their way.

  Abby looked at the man down below her. She’d never seen him before, but he apparently was high-ranking in the ReFounding Fathers. Did he know Hector? Did he know someone who would know Hector? If they got to Hector, would they take Hiamovi too?

  She couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t let this coward endanger the entire movement… or Hiamovi. But that meant that she couldn’t let him be captured alive.

  There, in the dim light of an old stairwell, Abby approached for the first time since going under cover a blood-red line in the sand, a line that separated what were acceptable actions for a spy and what actions went too far, and for an instant this line stayed her.

  Until it didn’t.

  “I said freeze!” Abby shouted. The man, who’d been perfectly compliant, looked confused.

  “Don’t!” Abby yelled, and then she made her choice.

  The man fell after two 5.56mm rounds tore through his chest and one blew out the back of his skull.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Coward. That’s what he was, Abby told herself. He was going to sell out the entire resistance, condemning to death friends and families, just to live a little longer, and so Abby awarded him that which he deserved: a coward’s death.

  “Target is down!” Abby shouted, her ears still ringing, and a few moments later the rest of her squad joined her, followed from below by Derrick’s squad. “I tried to arrest him, but he leveled at me again,” Abby explained to everyone, gesturing towards the revolver still in the man’s hand.

  “Well, shit,” her squad leader said. “At least that’s one less terrorist on the streets. Nice work, Abby. Ballsy as hell.” The rest of the agents concurred, heaping praise on Abby’s courage and skill.

  “Get the choppers back here, and let’s RTB,” the other squad leader said, ‘RTB’ meaning ‘return to base’.

  “Wait!” Derrick interrupted. “Shouldn’t we interrogate the fifth floor? There’s no way not one of this guy’s neighbors knew what he was up to.”

  The two squad leaders shared a look, then nodded.

  “Good call, sir,” Derrick’s squad leader said to him. Given his parentage, they called him ‘sir’ as a way of mocking him, but he took it in stride.

  The two squads spent the next half hour banging on doors in pairs, demanding entrance, or breaking them down when no one answered. They questioned families, the elderly, and everyone in between on the fifth floor.

  Abby took part as reluctantly as she could, though even her half-hearted contribution made her sick. Killing a coward and traitor was one thing, but they had no right to be breaking into these people’s homes, scaring children and pointing guns at innocent people. But she had an act to maintain, and so she yelled, brandished weapons, and kicked on doors.

  Either no one on the floor would spill their guts, or the target had indeed kept everyone around him in the dark regarding his clandestine activities. But at least they were able to strike some fear into the populace, the squad leaders agreed. The helicopters returned, picked up the two squads, and dropped them off at the armory, where they turned in their weapons before returning to the barracks. It was well past dinner time now, and the agents all agreed on going out for the night to celebrate the successful mission.

  Abby didn’t really want to, but so many of the guys had offered to buy her drinks that she felt compelled. “I’ll meet y’all there, but not before I shower,” she insisted.

  “You can shower in my room!” one of the men said, receiving scattered chuckling.

  Abby was used to the other guys hitting on her, and without looking back replied, “Not even in your dreams.”

  Derrick walked with her and followed her into her room. “You doin’ alright?” he asked as soon as they were alone.

  Abby nodded and gave a weak smile. “Yeah.”

  Derrick shook his head and asked, “First time?”

  “Yeah,” Abby lied.

  “It’s not easy,” Derrick said, referring to killing somebody. Abby never asked him about it, but she’d heard that he’d killed a handful of people on missions and patrols before today. “In the heat of the moment, with adrenaline pumping, it doesn’t really bother you. It’s right after the excitement, when you calm down and think about it, when you realize what a thing you’ve done.”

  Abby nod
ded in agreement. What he said rang very true in her experience. At least, it used to. But by this point in her life she’d racked up enough kills that it no longer bothered her. No, it was the interrogations afterward that had Abby slightly shook, but she let Derrick believe it was the killing.

  A long silence followed that Abby hardly even noticed, so deep in thought was she. But Derrick snapped her back to the present when he added, “My mom was killed, you know.”

  Abby turned her head, eyebrows arched up in surprise.

  “Murdered, actually. The first year after The Crisis, the terrorists were a much bigger problem than they are today. They tried to assassinate dad at least once a week. And one time, in the middle of winter, they tried a car bomb. That probably would have worked, except mom went out to start the car before he got in it, to let the car warm up.”

  Abby stood in silence, letting Derrick tell his story how he wanted. For the first time since she met him, she felt truly connected to him, like they finally had an understanding. Of course, she could not reveal this connection, and that pained her. And there was the awkward feeling of knowing that she belonged to the group that had murdered his mother.

  “And that’s when dad really cracked down. The walls went up, the DAS tripled in size, and curfews were put in place. And that was also the day I knew I needed to be a DAS agent. It’s not all patriotism and duty, Abby. This is also about revenge.”

  A lone tear rolled out of his icy blue eyes when he said this, and caught up in the emotion of the moment Abby teared up, too. She hugged Derrick tight and said, “I appreciate you sharing that with me.”

  “I figured it was about time,” he replied.

  Abby wished with all her heart that she could tell him about her own mother, how she knew exactly how it feels to have your mother ripped away from you in violence. The pressure was becoming unbearable, and mixed with the stress of the raid she felt like she could burst. She needed a drink. Or three.

  “Come on, let’s not keep the boys waiting,” she said in a cheery voice, trying to change the mood.

  Derrick smile back and said, “Sure.”

  Abby showered, changed into some nicer clothes, then linked up with Derrick to head for the bar to which their friends had gone. Upon entering through the front door, Abby was greeted with a loud cheer and applause from every patron in the building. People lauded her as a hero for taking down such a dangerous terrorist and escaping unscathed. Several agents tried buying Abby’s drink, but Derrick insisted that, as Abby’s boyfriend, the privilege of buying her first drink belonged to him.

  “Two bourbons, neat!” he called to the bartender, and two short glasses were promptly set down in front of them and filled with the sweet-smelling alcohol.

  “Can I have the floor for a second?” Derrick said, raising his voice to be heard above the din.

  “You can have these nuts, sir!” a man from Derrick’s squad yelled, receiving raucous laughter.

  “I’ll cut ‘em off, Joe, next time you make that joke!” Derrick replied with a laugh. He then lifted his glass and continued, “No, seriously. I just have something to say.”

  Silence fell on the bar, save for the background noise of the televisions. Derrick turned to Abby and said, “Abby, you’ve been my girlfriend for six months now, and a better six months I can’t remember. You’re so damn smart, strong, beautiful, and capable. I love you, and if the next six months are as amazing as the first six, I can see this going on for a very long time.”

  “I love you too,” Abby replied, wearing a smile and fighting back tears of both joy and sorrow. She really did like Derrick, and there were times where she was so happy to be his girlfriend, even if it was all an act. He was a good man and a terrific boyfriend who respected Abby and treated her well. Hearing him say ‘I love you’ for the first time, in front of all his friends, touched her heart in a way she couldn’t help.

  But then she remembered that it would not be long before she had to break his. This somber thought ushered in the memory of interrogating those people today. A bunch of military folks aiming guns at innocent people then reminded her of that time those airmen had detained her, Zach, and their friends, which reminded her that they were all dead now thanks to her, which reminded her of Emma, and—

  “Let’s drink to that!” Abby cried, and the bar patrons thundered their approval as everyone raised their glasses and drank. Abby drained her glass of bourbon in a single gulp, eliciting some scattered cheers. She slammed the glass down and called out, “Who’s next to buy this girl a drink?”

  Close to an hour and a few bourbons later, as Abby teetered between tipsy and drunk, the music playing in the bar changed to something Abby recognized, a popular hip-hop song from before The Crisis.

  “I wanna dance!” she said to Derrick.

  “Dance?” Derrick asked.

  “Yeah, I love this song! Come on!”

  “Tell you what, you dance and I’ll watch.”

  “No way, you have to dance too!”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to see that. I’m afraid you’d fall out of love with me.”

  “Oh, come on. Fine, I’ll dance first, but on the next song you have to dance with me.”

  “Uhh… okay,” Derrick agreed with hesitation.

  Abby almost jumped out of her chair to get to the dance floor before too much of the song had played. She loved dancing, and hadn’t danced like this in far too long. As the beat wore on, she began losing herself in the dance, trying to keep her wandering mind here in the moment and not in the past. Before long, other dancers made space for Abby, preferring to watch the gorgeous young woman who was clearly the best dancer in the room.

  She put on a memorable show, moving with a kind of smoothness and fluidity that defied her tipsy state. She had not been exactly sure how to dance to this kind of music at first, but she soon realized that doing some moves she’d learned when she was young, spiced up for a more adult crowd with some hip shaking and thrusting, was enough to tantalize an audience. And as the song ended on a strong note, Abby ended with a flourish. The entire bar cheered and applauded her, but Abby looked only to Derrick, who sat at the bar looking like he’d seen a ghost. Abby smiled and walked back over to him.

  “Wow,” was all he could say.

  “Alright, you got your dance. Now, come on!”

  “You expect me to follow that?” Derrick asked with a laugh.

  “No, I expect you to do some damn dancing with your girlfriend,” Abby teased. She seized Derrick by the hand and dragged him to the dance floor. Another song was playing, some boy band singing something about love. She looked at Derrick, remembered his toast from earlier that evening, and smiled, her cheeks flushed, and not just from drinking too much.

  “Alright, show me what you got!” Abby said as she began to dance, but almost immediately she stopped and nearly burst out laughing as she looked at Derrick.

  “Hey, I never said I was a good dancer,” he said, moving in a stiff, uncertain way that could perhaps be interpreted by some as a type of dancing.

  “Oh. My. God. You’re so bad,” Abby laughed.

  “And don’t try teaching me. I’ve tried to learn, believe me. There’s simply no hope.”

  “Well then, I guess I’ll have to come down to your level.”

  With that, Abby stopped what she was doing and began busting out some ridiculous moves that would have been right at home in a disco club in the 1970’s. Derrick couldn’t help laughing.

  “Oh, you think that’s good? Watch this.”

  Derrick switched to a very bad attempt at the robot, getting another laugh from Abby. They continued in this way, performing the cheesiest, most out of date dance moves they could think of, laughing all the while. Juxtaposed against the romantic, hip, boy-band song playing in the bar, the two made a comedic sight, and they loved it.

  The song finally ended, as did their impromptu dance-off, and Abby spun herself into Derrick’s arms. She looked deep into those bright blue eyes for a
moment, drinking in the love that she saw there. Resting one hand on his chest, the other on the back of his neck, Abby pulled him close and kissed him.

  After what felt like just a moment to Abby, though it could have been several, Derrick pulled back with a smile and said, “Okay, easy there.”

  “What?”

  “We should probably tone it down a bit.”

  “We were just kissing,” Abby insisted.

  “That was quite a bit more than just kissing,” Derrick laughed.

  Abby furrowed her brow. She didn’t think she’d been kissing him any differently than what was normal. Maybe she’d drank just a little too much and was a little too loose. Since she didn’t say anything, Derrick continued.

  “That’s the kind of kissing that turns into sex real quick. And you’re obviously drunk, so that wouldn’t be right.”

  Abby scoffed. “I’m not drunk,” she insisted, sticking her tongue out at Derrick.

  But Derrick just chuckled and said, “Come on, drunky. It’s about time we get out of here anyway.”

  “Ugh, fine. Party pooper,” Abby replied. She stepped back to the bar, downed the rest of her drink, and allowed Derrick to escort her outside, walking her back to their barracks. He walked behind her as they ascended the stairway so that he could catch her if she stumbled, and then made sure she got into her room.

  “Goodnight,” she said to him as he turned to leave.

  He flashed a charming smile at her and said, “Goodnight, Abby.”

  And that was it, the last straw. That pure, genuine smile of love and happiness was just too much for Abby, and she finally said the words that had been on her mind all night.

  “My mom was murdered too,” she blurted out.

  Derrick turned back around and said, “Really? How did I not hear about that?”

  Abby hurriedly regained her composure, reminding herself that she was on a mission and not in a relationship as her eyes began to glisten.