The Hazing Tower

by Leland Roys

  The training was ingrained in him. Without thinking, he pulled the now rolling car into a ditch by the side of the road. He jumped out and popped the trunk. He always had his automatic weapon with him. He pulled out the machine gun, strapped it to his back and ran for cover.

  He found a good vantage point and focused on the incoming vehicle. It had slowed and was approaching his position. Using the night scope fitted to the weapon, he saw what appeared to be two people. He focused in on the driver. Slowly, he locked on, then took the shot. The driver went down and the car slowly stopped in the middle of the road.

  Just as Hunter started to stand up, the passenger’s head exploded.

  Whoever was after him had just taken out their own man. This was bad, very bad. He pulled out his cell as he scrambled up the hill. He had to get to that shooter.

  “Music for Your Life, customer service. How can I help you tonight?”

  “Oscar Bravo 3-5-6. Lock it down. I repeat, lock it down. Taking fire, need backup, mobile locale.”

  “Lockdown protocol. Tracking your cell now; backup is on the way.”

  He hit the second number. “Hunter? Is that you? It’s 3 a.m.”

  “Joshua! Now! Like we talked. Now!”

  “Yes, right.” Josh’s voice was shaking.

  “Josh, take nothing. Now!”

  “Hunter, Jinny watched the tape. She saw it. She has been helping me with all of it.”

  “Who? Then get her! Find her! She’s not safe.”

  Hunter ended the call. He had to find that shooter and he had to get him alive. The terrain was rough. He was well trained but he wasn’t young anymore. In his youth, he would have already been on the guy, but he did have skills that come with experience. Some things trump youth.

  He pulled out his pistol and covered his right ear. He shot it into the ground.

  Stopping, he scanned the area with this night scope. There he was: the shooter jumped up from cover and took off running down the hill. Hunter could see lights below, coming from a small town in the valley, close to the agency site. He had been there a couple of times; agents tried not to show themselves much — rumors travel fast.

  He took off running as fast as he could. He could see the man or woman now, and was starting to gain ground.

  He was almost on the shooter when they both reached the unseen cliff in the dark and fell. They flew down and rolled; he lost count of how many times. He tried to tuck up like his training had taught him, over and over. They reached the bottom together, both up and running without any pause. This person was clearly trained, in no way a novice. Hunter saw the shooter closely as they got back up: a man, maybe in this twenties.

  Hunter’s leg shot with pain, but he had no time for that now. It was slowing him down as he chased the shooter to a local grocery store, a place Hunter recalled from his few visits to the town. He closed in. The man turned to fire — and Hunter ran into him with full force. Run at them like they are not there. If you think they’re in front of you, the brain instinctively will slow you down for impact. You have to imagine as hard as you can that you are running through a ghost.

  The store’s window glass shattered like a thunderstorm as the two men crashed through the huge window. Hunter stumbled back up, noticing he was covered in blood. He wasn’t sure and didn’t care if it was his. He fell back down again on the glass and tried to focus. He grabbed his leg pistol and prepared to shoot.

  “Stop!” I’ll kill her! You know I will, Hunter.”

  Hunter stood up and quickly took in the situation. The shooter had a hostage, probably a cashier from what she was wearing. The shooter’s gun was at the woman’s head.

  “You know that is not going to happen,” Hunter warned the shooter. “You know my name; that means you know what I do for a living. I’m not going to lower my weapon.”

  The scene went quiet, except for the soft crying of the hostage. She was in shock, her face white as snow.

  “Hey,” Hunter shouted, “Your own men killed your buddy back there, in the car. You really want to work for someone like that?”

  POP. The shooter’s head was gone. The woman survived only because she was shorter than him. Hunter recognized what had happened. Another sniper had taken the guy out. Was it CIA? He didn’t think so. They don’t operate like that. That wasn’t their protocol.

  Everyone in the store now was screaming, crying, running.

  “Get the hell down! Everyone down!” Hunter shouted.

  He took cover behind some rice bags and thought about it. He had no choice. He ran back out through the now open glass, weaving back and forth while scanning the area. POP! POP! Shells from another sniper hit around him. He dropped down behind a car. Hunter’s hearing had mostly returned now, but there was no sound, meaning the sniper was probably very far off; even with a silencer he should have heard something.

  He then heard the familiar sound of a helicopter. It was there in seconds. The spotlights lit up the store parking lot like it was daytime. Then two, then three helicopters. It was his men, from the agency.

  He took one of the choppers back to the main site. Leonard and Jeremy were both found dead, each in the trunk of his car. He was numbed by the news. They were good men, family men. He felt his anger growing, seething inside him. It was his fault, and he clearly had stepped on someone’s toes — someone who was willing to kill without hesitation.

  Hunter arrived back at the main center, his head still reeling from the news of his two best men. He had loved them like brothers.

  The room was a mess. Too many people, he didn’t like it; he had an ominous feeling about this. Someone had clearly had access from the inside.

  “Sir, can we clear it out a bit in here? I think...” He stopped talking as his eye caught something. One of the forensic women slid a USB drive into one of the computers. That wasn’t protocol.

  “You! Stop!” He pulled his weapon. She was fast. She fired five rounds before he got even one off. Three team members went down. Hunter felt his leg give way and fell on his side. He fired and, without wanting to, knew it was a kill shot.

  The place was a madhouse now. Wounded people were everywhere. His vision started to get blurry. He could hear the alarm going off. The place would be on total lockdown now. They had been infiltrated, this went deep. He looked down and realized he had been hit more than once. He was bleeding out. Someone was talking to him in slow motion as the world faded to black.

  He snapped back awake to the sound of an argument.

  “I told you the IV, how can you not know what that means? How long have you been working? And what do you mean you don’t have a name?”

  “Hey, shut up, I don’t need your shit, girl. Just keep him alive!”

  He was in the back of an ambulance. This was not an agency medic vehicle. His eyes scanned the van — one driver, two paramedics in the back. He had to stay awake, whatever it took. He saw the male paramedic start to talk to the driver and took his chance; it was a huge chance, no choice at all now. He pulled the female medic’s arm and motioned her to come close. He whispered, “Miss, do you know your buddy or the driver? Are they new?”

  She looked surprised. “How did you know? Yeah, they’re new. I haven’t worked with them before tonight. You know what, I don’t think …”

  He cut her off, “Listen to me, I’m CIA. I need your help now, do you trust me?”

  She nodded her head.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Kimberly.”

  “Kimberly, come close so I can whisper.”

  She slowly pulled out an adrenalin shot, used mostly for someone in deep shit, like unable to breath at all. Her hand was shaking a bit as she injected it into Hunter’s side.

  He felt the rush of fire shoot through him, like pure liquid energy. He was reborn, at least for a short time. He looked at her and motioned for their act to start.

  “Hey, you! What the hell! Help me out here, I can’t do this myself,” she screamed at the male “medic.”
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br />   The guy looked pissed, which Hunter expected. He pulled back into the rear of the ambulance. “Shut up bitch, you’re in for a world...” Hunter jumped up and stuck a huge needle directly into the man’s neck. “Fuck you, asshole!” he screamed at the man, punching him hard. Blood sprayed everywhere. The swearing that flew out of his mouth actually surprised him; he was pissed, pissed bad. These dogs needed to go down. They had killed his best friends, He felt pure rage.

  “Kimberly, get down!” POP! POP! The driver fired. Glass shattered all around them.

  The shot of adrenalin clearly working, Hunter jumped over the downed medic and went for the driver’s gun. He head butted the driver, sending him straight into the steering wheel. He was dazed but not out. He dropped the gun and they both went for it.

  The ambulance was all over the road. He knew what was coming next. “Kimberly! Drive! I need you!”

  Hunter and the driver struggled for the gun. Hunter could see Kimberly, tears on her face, as she climbed into the driver’s seat.

  Then gun went off and blew a hole through the left door, just missing Kimberly. The familiar sound of metal on metal echoed through the van; they had hit something, maybe a car? He could see Kimberly trying her best to steer. Then a tire blew. Hunter grabbed the gun as the crash began. He had lost count of how many times he had experienced this. The van skipped up on its side, slid sideways on the highway and slowly lifted up.

  This was when time stops. Once experienced, you never it. Everything went airborne. Then, like a fast-forward switch, time starts back up. CRASH! Three, four times the van flipped before stopping, resting on its roof.

  He leveled the gun. The dust and debris were too thick; he couldn’t get a target. Kimberly was next to him. He felt over to her neck; she was still alive.

  He didn’t think he could feel his legs. Then, he sensed the other man moving. He fired three shots and saw him go down.

  “Kimberly! Can you hear me? Wake up!”

  From outside the ambulance came a voice. “Hey, mister, are you OK? I saw the crash. I can’t believe you’re alive.” A young man was at the side door, the van now upside down.

  “Kid, listen to me, do you have a cell phone?”

  “Yeah, I just called 911. “

  “I need it, please, can I borrow it?”

  “Sure, here. Dude, you have to get out of here, you’re in the middle of the road.”

  Hunter dialed the number.

  “Rick, you there?”

  “Hunter? What the hell, is that you?”

  “Rick, listen, I’m in the open. Don’t call station, do not call anyone. They tried to take me out two times in the last hour, once at the site.”

  “Holly crap.”

  “Kid! Where are we? Kid, you there?” Hunter yelled back to the young man.

  “On Highway 5 near Mission Road exit, I think, maybe a mile from it.”

  “Rick, listen.” Hunter resumed, turning away from Kimberly. “Rick, I’m not going to make it this time. There’s a woman here, Kimberly. You get her to safety for me; do that for me, please.”

  “I understand. I’m sorry, my friend. She’s safe, you have my word.”

  Kimberly started to wake up. “What happened, where are we?”

  “Kim, you’re going to be all right. Keep your eyes open, like your training told you. You saved us both tonight, you’re a hero.”

  He turned back to the kid. “Hey, you still there?”

  “Yes, can I help pull you out? It’s dark as hell out here; someone is going to plow into you.”

  “Listen, kid, sorry I keep calling you kid. You have to get out of here right now, they will be coming for us.”

  “Coming for you?” Then the kid saw the gun in Hunter’s hand.

  “Go, get in your car and go,” Hunter ordered.

  Hunter heard the car screech away. It became dead quiet. He could actually hear crickets in the distance. He held Kimberly’s hand and started to think.

  “You’re bleeding out,” Kimberly said weakly.

  “I know. It doesn’t matter now. Sorry you had to be brought into this mess. Can you move?”

  She shook her head. “I think my legs are broken.”

  “Kim, have you used a gun before?”

  A tear rolled down her cheek. “No.”

  He handed her the Glock. “Just aim and pull the trigger. Pull it back slowly; it helps with the aim. My friend, if he gets here first, he will say ‘Bobby is here.’ If anyone else comes and tries to drag you out, shoot them. Don’t hesitate, just shoot.”

  “How will I know? I mean, that they are bad.”

  “Trust me, you will know. You don’t need training to feel the danger. Just like you knew something wasn’t right with your fake co-workers, it’s built in.”

  She took the gun. “Do you want me to tell anyone… Do you have someone?”

  He shook his head. She knew this was it for him.

  He asked her, “Do you have a family? Children?”

  “I have a son. My boyfriend left me, so it’s just the two of us now. He just turned three.”

  “Tell me all about him. I had a son once. Three is a hard age. Tell me everything.”

  He closed his eyes while she talked about her life. This was the best way to go. Ending it with the good memories. He didn’t have any of his own. He would rather have it end remembering hers.

  • • •

  Revelations

  Hunter felt himself waking up, but kept his eyes closed. That was standard training. Wait until you can determine what the situation is, maybe where you are and any possible defense.

  Cold floor. Cement. Not good. This clearly wasn’t a hospital, and he wasn’t dead. At least not yet.

  “I know you’re awake, Hunter. You can open your eyes.”

  He slowly lifted his head and looked at her. He knew before he even saw her; for some reason he knew.

  It was her— the mystery woman— after all the years. All the dead ends.

  “You were bad off. My medical training isn’t that fresh, but I think you will live for now.”

  “It’s you.” That was all he seemed to be able to get out. She was beautiful, much more than he even imagined and could see from the picture. Her eyes looked right through him.

  “What is your name?” he wasn’t sure she would tell him.

  “Rebecca. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hunter.”

  “Is Kimberly alive?”

  “See, that’s why I always liked you. You actually care about people. She’s fine. Her son is visiting her in the hospital as we speak.”

  “How old are you?”

  She laughed. “That’s quite rude. You know women hate it when you ask that question.”

  She took on a serious look, almost sad.

  “Hunter, we couldn’t have saved him. Your son.”

  He physically shook with the thought of his son dying slowly in the hospital. The memories seemed like yesterday.

  “Why not? You saved Nikki.” He could feel the raw emotion in his voice.

  “It doesn’t work that way, Hunter. Your son had leukemia. I’m sorry he died, I honestly am. There is nothing we could do for him. Our skills, or whatever you like to call it, they don’t work on everyone. It’s very specific, actually one in a billion.”

  “You knew? You knew I was searching for you?”

  “Of course. And like I said, if we could have saved your son, we would have, I would have.”

  He believed her. She had no reason to lie to him. She had control here. He could have been dead already; he should be dead. He looked down at where he had been shot. Someone had patched him up. Had it really been her?

  He put his head down. All the wasted time, all the searching, the hope, it had been useless. He had lost everything because of this quest. And it had been pointless the whole time. He actually didn’t care anymore — about anything. It was a weird feeling to lose that spark, the spark that makes you wake up in the morning, that keeps you alive. He stared a
t the floor; he felt completely broken.

  “Three hundred and forty-two years.”

  “What?” He felt off balance.

  “You asked how old I was.”

  “How? I mean, I know some of it. It’s genetic, right? Something to do with a genetic disease? Nikki had it, right?”

  She smiled. “Can you stand up? You’re not tied up.”

  He looked around and realized he wasn’t tied up or restrained in any way. He tried to get to his feet and fell back down.

  She was next to him in a flash and helped him to his feet. She walked with him to an old chair. He looked around. It seemed like an old warehouse; his curiosity and questions were overcoming his training, which told him to be looking for a way to escape. He actually didn’t want to. He didn’t care anymore. His life was already over. She clearly could kill him at any time, and he had nothing to live for now. After all this time, at least some answers would be nice, even if it was too late for his son.

  “Why haven’t you killed me?”

  She laughed, “Why would I kill you? You think I’m a monster?

  “And if you’re wondering. No, I did not kill your men.”

  Again, he believed her; she had no reason to lie to him.

  “Do you know who killed them?”

  “Kurt. I’m sure of it.”

  “My unit director?” He was stunned.

  “At least you haven’t called me a vampire.” She smiled again. “You know, out of all the people that knew about us, you have been one of the smartest. You came the closest of anyone.”