Flattering as it was, Catlin hadn’t the faintest idea what qualified her to be a part of some secret organisation. She’d spent her life chasing her heart, chasing things that made her feel alive. She was an adrenaline junkie, someone whose real purpose up until now had only been to chase her desires and chase the moment.
She’d been more than involved in her fair share of nefarious activities over the years, especially related to drugs and the events that followed their consumption. Did this woman know about her past, truly understand the avenues of life she’d explored?
Ma’am remained silent, so Catlin assumed she was waiting for an answer, but all Catlin could think was why they would want her.
“Why me?”
“Sometimes Ms Conley we’re unaware of ourselves, of who we really are and where we come from. We think we know, other people tell us what to think, but what do we really know? Do we just know what we are taught, learned from a young age? Things we are indoctrinated with all our lives to believe?”
“Sometimes people live their entire lives without so much as realising what their purpose is, they simply live out whatever fantasies that are sold to them via the television. They live in their desires, they live as consumers, they live cocooned in their own anxious fear, or they lived trapped in the workings of an egoic mind.”
Catlin gulped at the mention of desires, knowing how she’d succumbed to her desires, many times in her life.
“So why am I here, because of my unique talent to capture your ... whatever it is? Is that it? You need a photographer?”
“No Ms Conley, you’re for another reason entirely. You’re special as I said.”
“And am I allowed to know what that special is?”
Ma’am flinched ever so slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the request. “For now all I want to know is whether you will stay or whether you will go, the choice is yours.”
“And you won’t even tell me why?”
Ma’am grimaced but didn’t reply.
“Geez, don’t exactly have many options, do I?” Catlin rolled her eyes. “And won’t somebody be looking for me? I can’t just disappear, I have friends, a family. My brother is dead, my parents ...”
“I wouldn’t worry about that.”
“Why?”
“Nobody’s really looking for you, and they won’t find you anyway.”
“How so?”
“Have you ever seen a list of missing people and wondered to yourself just where in the world did all these people go?”
Catlin’s eyes went wide, “Oh no way!”
“Yes way. Some of them end up here ... we are well under any radars, and always will be. Nobody will come looking for you here and if they do we can fix that too.”
“Wow, this is actually making me sick. I need to at least to tell my parents what happened, they need to know what happened to me.”
“Once you learn more …”
“Yes, yes, I know … I’ll understand.’ she mocked, using wild hand gestures.
“Please, don’t mock me Ms Conley.”
Catlin thought of a response but decided to keep her mouth shut instead, this woman was clearly not the jovial kind.
Ma’am must have sensed something and looked at Catlin the way a mother does a petulant child. “What?” Catlin defended herself. Ma’am only raised an eyebrow, “My parents need to know the truth.”
“Trust me,” Ma’am looked at her intently. “They already do.”
“And I want to know the truth.”
“Fine.” Ma’am nodded.
“Fine!” Catlin said with finality.
“Fine what?” Ma’am asked.
“Fine I’ll bloody stay!”
“Very well then.”
“But I still have questions, so you better give me some answers.”
“And so ….” Ma’am replied, standing up from the chair. “Let’s get you started then.”
- -
Harrison
They moved forward silently, stealthily, creeping alongside the shadow of a fifteen-foot stone wall in the dead of the night in the streets of Melbourne. Truck led the four-man team with Harrison and Pigeon in the middle and Smith taking up the rear. It was a chilly Melbourne night, all four men expelling steam from their mouths as they ran.
Only two carried arms, Truck and Pigeon opting for handguns whilst Smith and Harrison refused, despite the insistence of the others.
“Ok, we’re here.” Truck whispers as they stop at the end of the brick wall, huddling together. Truck leans over and points around the wall to a three-story brick building across the street, indicating it’s their target.
The four have come here based on information Harrison risked his life to get, information that led them to locate something called a device. Suni told them little of why they needed it, but that it would allow them to finally expose Destiny and the government.
They used the information on the USB to identify their target’s location, but time was not on their side. Suni cautioned them about the need to move quickly, before anybody else got to it. And so they prepared their assault with less than twenty-four hours’ notice and with a new addition to their team.
Truck and Pidgeon had protested the need for the use of Smith, claiming he was not a member of their team, he was only new. Harrison came to his defence but Suni made the final call to trust him. She insisted he was vital to their operation and very much a part of it, he was to join with Truck, Pigeon and Harrison in the retrieval.
Truck pressed further with Suni when he found a private moment, trying in vain to convince her Smith was not suitable to join their mission. In response, she’d eluded to Truck that there was more to Smith than appeared. She told him in time, Smith would realise who he was and would come to change the very world they lived in. She told Truck he should give him his respect.
Truck trusted Suni, so he’d relented.
Without discussion the men move forward, away from the safety of the brick wall. They spread themselves out on approach to the building, shrouded in the darkness. Smith takes a position on the open side of the building, in view of the front door and the side alley. Pigeon takes to the alley and begins climbing a staircase attached to the side of the building.
He scales the fire escape stairs quickly and quietly and once there, finds a good viewing spot and rests quietly on his perch, covering both the back door and the front door to the building from above.
Once Smith and Pigeon are in place, Truck and Harrison move in unison to the front door of the building, Truck directly to the front door, Harrison to the left as support.
This was it, team in place, no radios, no communication. Nothing that could give them away to Destiny or the government. Get in and get out.
It was a plan they’d discussed very quickly, not having much time to prepare. Truck, being the trained soldier, took control of the group and made all the arrangements. Now satisfied everyone was in place, he crept up to the door slowly, reaching for the brass handle with his large hairy hands.
He tests the handle slowly at first and, realising it’s unlocked and turns it full round so it opens. Immediately bright light floods the poorly lit street through the small opening Truck’s created in the door. Quickly he pulls the door open and enters, closing it shut behind him and returning the street back into darkness.
As he enters the hallway though, Truck halts and squints instinctively, trying to shield his eyes from the brightness that’s blinding him. Instinct raises his hand to cover his eyes, to protect them from the bright light. But his hand does such a good job he doesn’t see the shadow appear from the stairwell at the rear of the hallway. Nor does he see the gun that’s pointed toward him, all Truck hears is two sharp cracks and a thumping noise as he’s hit in quick succession, in the chest.
The shots ring out in the street, two
penetratingly, deafening cracks. Harrison immediately springs into action when he hears it, launching himself from his haunt by the door straight into the building without a thought for his safety. He pauses momentarily with his grip upon the door handle and bursts forward with gusto, that’s his friend in there.
The light catches his eyes too as he enters, forcing him to look down and shield them from the sting of it. He can faintly see a large shadow on the floor before he too feels something slug into his chest once, then twice. The momentum brings him forward, but now his body sags, his knees buckle and he falls forward onto the ground. Leaving him kneeling unsteadily on the floor, dumbfounded.
A third slug hits him in the head, but he doesn’t feel it, everything’s already gone numb and he falls face down to the floor.
The scene remains silent, the assassin in the room moves on from the scene stealthily, back up the staircase he’s been hiding on. The two bodies he’s left behind are unmoving for a few moments until one of them rolls to the side, emitting a large groan as he does so.
Truck, still conscious, rolls onto his back and rubs his eyes to adjust to the light, trying to take in the situation quickly. He hurriedly assesses his injuries and finds he can still move. Warily, he looks about him for a sign of his assailant.
Nothing in front of him, the room is empty. Rolling to the side he steadies himself and notices a shape behind him. Reacting swiftly, he swings himself and his gun around on the object, ready to kill whatever it is.
But as he turns he notices something familiar about the body that lays there.
It’s Harrison.
He’s face down, lying motionless on the floor. A growing pool of blood appearing in the hallway where he lays.
In the centre of Harrison’s head, Truck notices a bloody wound and must force the cry down that threatens to come out his mouth. It’s little Harrison, lying there covered in blood.
He has failed to protect him, he’s failed to protect his family.
- -
Truck
Truck stumbled to his feet and over to Harrison, gathered him up quickly and slung him over his massive shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he charged toward the back entrance with gun raised, wary of any enemies as he moved.
He shoulder-barged his way through the back door, hit the steps and came back out into darkness at the rear of the building. Running forward blindly, his foot hit something below and tripped him over, he fell through the air.
He inadvertently dropped Harrison as his instinct to protect himself from the tumble kicked in, his arms involuntarily stretching outwards in an attempt to break the fall.
He hit the ground hard and with a loud thud. Not wanting to waste any time, Truck was up in a flash, grabbing Harrison and lifting him up over his shoulder. He rested him softly as possible back onto his shoulder and turned back around to see what had tripped him up.
His mouth gaped open wide as he saw a mass, laying in a crumpled heap at the foot of the stairs. It was a bloody mess but there was no mistaking what or who it was. It was the ruined body of Pigeon.
Dead, laying in a bloody, twisted and tangled mess. Truck stared at the gaping wound in his forehead and cursed aloud.
“Shit!” He swore at the gruesome sight of his friend who, by the way he lay, must’ve been thrown from the top of the building. Truck couldn’t believe the sight, his friend dead in the street, what the hell had happened.
He stared at the corpse momentarily, entranced by his own thoughts.
He wondered where Smith was and quickly shot a glance down the alleyway to the left. In the darkness, he thought he could make out a shadow running away and hoped it wasn’t a cowardly Smith fleeing the scene.
He had to think quick, Pigeon was dead, Harrison was shot and it looked like Smith was running away.
Again, his gaze fixed on Pigeon’s body, then to the alleyway where the person was fleeing.
He didn’t pursue though, he grabbed a hold of the limp body of Harrison and headed in the opposite direction. He made his choice.
Truck fled the scene.
As he carried the body slung over his shoulder, Truck trudged forward, onwards through the dark of the night. The heavens opened as he carried his young friend, showering him with heavy raindrops and soaking him to the bone.
This wasn’t the first time Truck had to carry a wounded person through the rain. The blood and rain now soaking his body brought him back to his time in the army, to the night he first met Pigeon.
Truck’s unit had been ordered to rescue captives from an enemy compound in northern Afghanistan. They’d taken the compound, late at night and without much resistance. This was where he first met Pigeon, rescuing him and a few other British S.A.S compatriots who’d been imprisoned there.
The problem hadn’t been getting in though, it was getting out. On their retreat, they’d picked up a tail, a sniper. The sniper was no Afghani either, intel later reported that the man was a South African mercenary going by the name of the Viper.
There were six units in Truck’s platoon when they began the assault, plus the three prisoners they collected, made them a group of nine. They left the compound and marched for three days through the heat and dust. But with a sniper stalking them, slowly they began getting picked off one by one, despite efforts to avoid him.
Only two people survived the ordeal, Truck, alongside Pigeon.
Their saving grace had been the heavens, for late on the third evening, just as Pigeon had taken a bullet to the chest, the heavens did in fact open. And open wide they did, the landscape was instantly changed as the extreme desert like conditions suddenly flooded with the onset of rain.
It gave Truck the cover he needed, the protection to carry Pigeon back to safety.
Feeling the rain trickling over his face brought the sickening memory back, only this time he was carrying a young kid, Harrison, who couldn’t even bring himself to eat meat. Truck felt in his heart that if he could save Pigeon back then, surely he could save Harrison. He continued determinedly back to the apartment.
Truck burst in through the door to the apartment, calling out for help as he entered. He headed towards Doc’s bedroom, still carrying Harrison’s limp body and now screaming, “Somebody … I need help, help NOW!”
He barged through to Doc’s room and found him already collecting medical utensils, Suni came running over from the other apartment in haste.
“What happened?” Suni questioned as she came to see what all the commotion was about. She gasped as she saw Truck standing there panting, soaked in blood and rain, Harrison slung over his shoulder.
“What happened to him?”
“Shit … you need to fix him, you need to fix him now! Oh Jesus he’s screwed, he got shot in the head!”
Doc wasted no time, quickly instructing Truck to lay Harrison down on top of his bed. Truck lay him down softly and slowly and Doc quickly assessed the still motionless body of Harrison.
“He’s got a pulse, its faint but it’s there, still breathing.”
“Fix him … fix him!” Truck started fretting and pointing to the wound in Harrison’s head.
Suni spun with a ferocity that frightened the normally unperturbed big man. “You want us to fix him then get out of the way and let us work on him!”
She turned so viciously on him that he backed away almost involuntarily until he hit the wall of the room, and stood there quietly without further incident.
Doc quickly inspected the bullet wounds, “head wound, no exit wound … bullet is still in there somewhere.”
“My gosh!” Suni exclaimed, “so much blood.” She grabbed some nearby bedsheets and began wiping it away.
“Truck, get me some fresh bandages, from the kitchen. Top cupboard.”
Truck moved quickly, off the wall and out into the kitchen. Nobody noticed the two large bloodstains that Truck
left on the wall where he’d been leaning.
“Two other marks to the chest,” Doc said to Suni as he turned him over. “Both with exit wounds.”
“Three?” Suni asked.
“Three bullet wounds,” Doc confirmed.
“Goddam. Can you help him?”
“We’re going to have to get that bullet out of his head first if he’s any chance of survival.”
“Let’s not talk about it, what do you need me to do?” Suni asked, straight to the point, taking fresh cloths off Truck as he re-entered the room.
Doc replied, “keep pressure on the wounds for the moment, I need to get some things from the other apartment.”
As he took off, Suni made sure she applied pressure to the wounds with the bandages Truck had brought and once satisfied asked, “what happened out there? Did you get it?”
Truck may have been a mess but he flared at the question, “is that all you bloody care about, your precious device!” He was pointing at her now, “you know Pigeon is dead, he’s dead! And now Harry’s laying there with a stinking bullet in his head and all you want to know about is your stupid bloody device!”
“I’m sorry Truck, I didn’t mean to …”
“Screw you Suni!”
“Truck ... I’m sorry, it’s just that it’s ... it’s just so important.”
“Harrison is more important.”
“Sorry Truck.”
“Is that all we are to you! A means for getting your revenge on Destiny?”
“No. Hey … you know that I care for you guys.”
“Well we didn’t bloody get it!” he said, the fight starting to drain from him as he leant back heavily on the wall again. He hit it hard, wavered there for a second before starting to slide sideways, determinedly he focused and forced himself to stand upright.
Doc returned to the room, briefcase in tow and carrying a few other items under his arms. “Ok Truck and Suni, I am going to need both of you to assist, ok?”
Recalling Destiny Page 17