Recalling Destiny

by Michael Blinkhoff

  It all happens so quickly, Smith tries to build more momentum to reach the other end whilst the Viper saws the line with a blade. Truck watches on helplessly as the situation unfolds, searching his pockets for something useful that can help Smith.

  He checks his back for his revolver but realises he must’ve dropped it during the explosion. Finding nothing of use on his person he turns hastily around in the room, remembering the bags that lay on the floor behind him.

  The Viper, getting nowhere with the zip line, only wastes a few more moments with the knife before realising it isn’t going to cut through the stainless-steel line. Thinking only for a moment, he quickly unslings a sub-machine gun hanging from his shoulder.

  “Jesus!” Truck curses, thinking the Viper must have followed him through the blast hole, retrieved a weapon and followed them here. “Should’ve killed that goddam chump.”

  The Viper takes aim quickly, pulling the trigger and firing a short burst from a Heckler and Koch MP5 directly at Smith, who’s still suspended on the wire. His first few shots miss the target, spraying into the building opposite, so the Viper steadies himself with an elbow on the ledge, closes one eye and pulls the trigger once again.

  Truck, hearing the gunfire erupting behind him, has already turned from the window and is ripping at the first backpack in desperation. He tears the bag open and frantically searches inside for a weapon, for something he can use to defend the helpless Smith.

  He hears another burst of gunfire and seethes through gritted teeth, spittle flies from between his lips and sprays the area as he struggles to find something in the first bag. Eventually his hands grasp at something solid and he lets out a grunt of elation. He latches onto it and wretches it free from the bag, hastily returning to the window in hopes of aiding Smith.

  He’s pulled a revolver from the backpack.

  He looks at Smith and can tell something’s amiss, he looks inhibited. Truck sees him take a volley of bullets to his back, the impact making wet thudding noise’s as they slug into him. Smith doesn’t deter though, he keeps on coming down the wire.

  In response Truck raises his right arm in a slow arc, bringing the sights of his revolver up towards the figure in the window.

  He doesn’t waver, he fires back.

  Truck unleashes a volley from the revolver, but the shots are long and wide of the target, the Viper flinches in response but doesn’t take cover.

  Instead the Viper turns and changes the direction of his fire. He lets out a quick burst, only this time it isn’t directed at Smith.

  The Viper realises shooting Smith hasn’t stopped him, so instead turns his attention to attacking the zip line itself. Steel wire it may have been, but under the controlled short burst firing of the Viper its threads start to split.

  Truck, sensing things are about to get really bad for Smith, takes aim and fires two quick shots. He pauses to observe where they hit, noticing he’s off the mark by a foot. He corrects his aim and is about to pull the trigger again, when the line snaps.

  It’s been severed.

  He curses, but fires from the pistol anyway, two quick shots. He doesn’t check to see if they’ve hit the mark though, his attention is diverted to Smith, who is now descending rapidly into the void between the two buildings. In the absence of the line, gravity has taken over and Smith falls towards the street.

  Truck lowers his weapon, grabs the window sill and looks down the length of building. There’s nothing he can do but watch helplessly as Smith falls into the void from twenty-eight stories up.

  The rope becomes taught again as Smith’s weight takes up the slack and he swings in the direction of the building Truck’s in, now on a collision course.

  Truck stares on in horror as Smith plummets into the side of the building two floors below him, feeling the thud of his body on the floorboards as his massive frame collides with the building’s exterior.

  Smith built up an enormous amount of force and it shows agonizingly as he bounces off the building like a ragdoll, bumping several more times before coming to a stop. He dangles there, held in place by his harness, locked onto the wire, completely still.

  “Are you ok?” Truck yells out optimistically.

  Smith doesn’t move, he remains almost deathly still. He’s suspended over twenty floors up, dangling lifelessly with only a safety harness to keep him from falling any further.

  Truck looks up at the Viper, who returns the stare with a smile. He thinks about raising his gun and firing again, when the Viper quickly disappears from the window and out of sight. Truck wastes no time in contemplation, he too turns quickly and bounds towards the door, grabbing both the backpacks as he leaves the room.

  He exits the apartment and hurries down the hallway, shuffling with the backpacks as he tries to get them secured properly, one on his back and the other on his front. He takes the fire exit and the stairs, two by two, in hurried leaps as he races to get down two floors. When he gets to what he thinks is the right floor he drops the two backpacks next to the elevator and moves on down the hallway.

  He has no idea how far along he has to go, so makes an educated guess, throwing his weight into the door of an apartment he thinks might be closest to where Smith is suspended. Under his bulk the doors lock snaps and flys open easily, a small dog greets him and barks viciously at the intrusion.

  Truck ignores the little mutt and runs towards the lounge room window to see if he can see Smith, the dog nipping at his heels as he does so.

  As he looks out the window he can just make out the figure of Smith to the right but knows he needs to go an apartment over, he apologises to the small dog still barking at him as he leaves the apartment.

  Again, he smashes through another apartment door, this time no yapping dog but he can see the dangling body of Smith below the window line. Unfortunately for Smith, he’s swung too low to be able to take the momentum into the window, meaning he’s slammed with his full force into the cement rendered outer of the building.

  “Second time I’ve had to rescue your unconscious ass Smith.” he says aloud as he pulls in the still limp body of Smith.

  Truck detaches Smith from the line, removes his harness and looks him over quickly. He removes the balaclava first, confirming it is him and finds he’s a little surprised to find no marks or bruising on his face. Actually, his face looks very pale.

  He checks his heart next and quickly notices there’s no beat, his heart must have stopped. He checks his breath next and again feels nothing, Truck lets out a cry of alarm as he realises he needs to give CPR right away.

  He traces his finger along Smiths chest till he finds the spot he’s looking for, locks his hands on top of each other and presses down firmly on Smith’s chest for the first compression. What happens as a result shocks him off Smith’s body in a hurry.

  “Arrrrrghhhgh!” a noise sounds painfully from Smith’s mouth, followed by what looks to Truck like a blood rush to the head.

  Smith inhales sharply, filling his lungs with air and bends his back as his body rises off the floor in an arching movement.

  His body slowly returns to normal, the muscles relax and he falls back to his position on the floor. His eyes open, seem to focus and look sideways directly at Truck, who is standing there looking more than a little astonished.

  “Who?” he asks Truck, emotionless.

  Truck, with eyes wide, can only mouth one word in reply. “What?”

  “Who?” Smith says, sitting up, clearly confused himself.

  “You’re Smith dummy.” Truck replies.

  “Smith dummy?”

  “No Smith, I mean your name is Smith.”

  Smith winces and clutches at his chest. “Give hand,” he asks, holding his hand out for Truck.

  Truck extends his hand, which Smith catches in his own.

  “Mark.” Smith says suddenly as Truck pulls him to hi
s feet. “Mark Thompson?”

  “Huh?”

  “Prefer name Truck.”

  “You’re a damn strange guy Smith. Are you feeling ok?”

  No response.

  “You were shot.”

  “Was shot.” Smith confirms. “Chump Viper, shoot. See as seen.”

  “Yeah and he’s probably on his way over here right now so we need to get a move on.”

  “Move on.”

  “What’s the plan, how do we get out of here?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “What? You don’t have a plan? What do you mean you don’t know?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Gee, you must have hit your head really bad, you sure you feeling ok champ?”

  “Ok, champ.” he replies.

  Truck sighs, grabs Smith by the arm and leads the two of them out of the apartment. Once there the dog who’d previously barked at Truck shows itself again in the hallway, ready to recommence defending its territory.

  The snarling little bugger comes charging forward, full of bravado, but as soon as it gets in close it seems to sense something and halts suddenly. It looks up, sniffs at the two men, yelps and then runs away back into the apartment.

  “Weird?” Truck comments as they move on.

  “Friend?” queries Smith.

  “Guess not, little bugger ran away, last time he was trying to bite me.”

  The normally alert Truck doesn’t notice the flicker in Smith’s eyes as the dog bounds away back into the apartment it’s come from, instead he’s leads Smith on as they make their way down the hallway to the elevator.

  “You take the lift down, you look like you’re wrecked. I’ll take the stairs ... better we split up. I’ll meet you at the bottom,” Truck says. “And watch out for bloody soldiers.”

  “Good.” Smith replies, propping himself up on the wall clutching at his chest. “Plan good.”

  Truck doesn’t feel the need to waste time in conversation, so he quickly taps the down button calling for the elevator, drops the bags and bolts for the stairs. “I’ll see you at the bottom!” He yells as he pulls open the stairway door and disappears.

  Smith takes the moment alone to lean back on the wall and concentrate on his breathing, slow and painful as it is for him. It’s only a few minutes of resting before the ‘ding’ of the elevator sounds, he moves slowly, taking his time getting himself and the bags into the elevator. Once inside he looks about him strangely, wondering what to do next.

  He looks around inside the elevator but can’t figure out what to do, so instead he stands still, waiting for something to happen. The lift remains still and nothing moves.

  After a pause the doors close, but the lift still doesn’t move. Smith hasn’t pushed any buttons, so the lift remains stationary.

  Eventually the automatic settings on the apartment elevator kick in and the lift moves, returning to its original location, the ground floor.

  Smith’s head is bowed, leaning on one arm as the lift door opens to the ground floor of the apartment complex. He looks up and with no expression on his face he observes, just as emotionlessly, the figure of the Viper waiting at the bottom floor as the doors open.

  His eyes are a cold, dead stare, looking over the sights of a sub machine gun, which is pointed directly at Smith.

  The Viper manages a sardonic smile before asking, “So, we meet again …”

  Smith doesn’t make any movements to betray himself, he looks deep in thought.

  “I am curious, before I kill you,” the Viper licks his lips. “And kill you for the second time I might add ...” He lowers the gun to his waist, “… of exactly how you think you are going to survive this, again, hey boy?”

  Smith remains silent but he rises to his full height, stands straight and looks the Viper right in the eye, even leaning forward in his stance to make a point of it.

  The Viper’s lips pout and he shakes his head whilst giving back a mock stare, “Oooh, so afraid of the big tough guy. You blacks, you’re all the bloody same.”

  “Viper,” Smith points.

  “You are a dickhead.”

  “Viper bad ... Viper kill Truck friend.”

  “Ja … killed you too boy!”

  Smith looks confused.

  “Tell me hey boy, how the crap did you survive that last one, huh? Someone from Destiny revive you hey boy? Is that your secret hey?”

  “What secret?”

  “Ja, sometimes I think you stupid man.”

  Smith, calm as anything, reaches out to touch the Viper’s hand but the Viper recoils quickly and slaps Smith’s hand away with the end of his sub machine gun.

  “Stop it with that shit hey! Always with the touching.”

  “See as seen.” Smith replies.

  “Man, you say some weird shit to me. What about the other one?”

  “What?”

  “’Sousa is the key’.” The Viper looks at him inquisitively. “Why you say that to me before hey? What does that mean?”

  “Don’t know.”

  During their brief exchange the Viper doesn’t hear, or perhaps he doesn’t register it as a threat, the dull sound that’s echoing off the carpeted floor of the lobby. The footsteps are quick, heavy steps that are bounding towards him at lightning pace.

  Whilst Smith is engaged with the Viper, Truck has come out of the stairwell to the right of the lift and has seen The Viper pointing a revolver at someone inside the lift. He’s seen his enemy and captive, and all his hatred boils to the surface.

  He sprints over towards the lift, his right fist raising as he descends on the unsuspecting Viper. The closer he gets the more momentum he builds, until eventually he cleans the Viper up with a running right roundhouse to the side of his head.

  Truck hits the Viper so hard and with such ferocity that it sends the Viper cascading twenty feet across the floor of the lobby until he hits the wall with a thud, stopping there. The impact to the side of the head crushes the skull and knocks him unconscious before he’s even come to a stop.

  He doesn’t move.

  Truck stands there looking at him, his huge frame huffing from the effort, waiting for the Viper to make some sort of movement, but there’s nothing. He spits at him and curses under his breath.

  “That’s for my team champ!”

  Smith stands, observing the exchange and raises an eyebrow, but Truck cannot look him back in the eye just yet.

  Smith responds by quickly shifting out of the lift and moving over to the crumpled body of the Viper. He wastes no time in consternation when he reaches the Viper’s body, he simply kneels and touches his ankle, sliding the Viper’s socks down so he can touch the skin.

  Truck follows behind slowly, wondering what the hell he’s up to. “Smith?”

  “Sousa … bad man.” Smith says plainly.

  “He’s the Viper.”

  “Know many thing.”

  “Ok,” Truck replies, unsure of what to make of it all. “Why did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Why did you touch him like that?”

  “Touch, see as seen.”

  “Hmmm,” Truck muses, now deep in thought.

  “Sousa is the key.” Smith says, a smile creeping on his face as he suddenly looks at something written on his wrist.

  “Right,” Trucks eyes roll, looking at the black writing on Smith’s wrist. “Got it. Shall we …?”

  “Leave?”

  “Yes, the airport, we must go now.”

  “Ok champ, go.”

  “And him?”

  “Sousa.”

  “Yeah, I know that, did you check his pulse? Is he dead or what champ?”

  “Don’t know,” Smith replies, showing his arm with the writing on it to Truck. “Sousa is the key.”

>   Truck scratches his head, looks about him and decides not to say anything further, he’s happy to leave the Viper to rot where he is. Smith stands up, looks at Truck with a knowing smile and Truck returns the gaze like he’s onto something. The two stare at each other for a moment before Truck feels slightly awkward and breaks contact, making to leave the foyer.

  “I’m onto you Smith,” Truck says, rubbing his chest as he walks.

  “Truck smart.”

  “Screw you!” Truck spits, coming at Smith and turning him around.

  His hand reaches around Smith’s back and his fingers poke into the holes in the back of Smith’s coveralls curiously. Smith does nothing to indicate he’s uncomfortable with the inspection, just stands there.

  What Truck reveals is a perfectly healthy back, devoid of any wounds, despite obvious bullet holes in Smith’s clothing, “I saw you get shot champ, three times in the back.” he looks at him questioningly.

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  Smith just looks back at him, quietly and patiently.

  “The predator doesn’t tell his prey, that it’s his prey.” Truck spits, letting his feelings start to get the better of him. “I’m onto you, you might not want to tell me about who you are, but don’t think I’m bloody stupid?” Truck points at him, “you have three holes in your shirt and none in your back, tell me why?”

  “Sousa shoot …”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know that, how the hell have you miraculously healed from that?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Well what you did to me back up in that apartment?”

  “What do?”

  “I don’t know! You healed me or something, feel this.” He grabs Smith’s hand impatiently and waves it over the area that an hour ago had two gunshot wounds.

  “Not feel anything.”

  “Exactly,” he lets go of the hand. “I had two gunshot wounds to the chest, now I don’t.”

  “Touch face.” Smith says. “See as seen.”

  “One minute you know something, the next you don’t. Why?” Truck asks, “can you tell me why?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Why did you touch the Viper like that, on the ankle?”