Dark Divide (Shadow and Shine Book 2)

by Danial Hooper

  Everything changed in a minute. Reyes went from being on the team, to being a target. Omega was a kill order.

  Marshall raised his hands. “Wait.”

  Nino’s eyes were wide as he stared at Marshall. He dropped his gun on the dashboard.

  Reyes peered at Chatra and Jordan out of the corner of his eye. Their hands were up, as well.

  Marshall continued, “Before you make a bad deci—”

  Reyes interrupted him, “Shut your mouth! What is Omega?” He looked to Nino while holding his pistol against the soft flesh at the top of Marshall’s spine. Reyes could see the thoughts running through Nino’s mind, he meant to kill Reyes, because those were his orders. He failed his superior, his leader, his god, and became infuriated with himself. “Answer me!” Reyes shouted, still staring at Nino. The dog snarled at him.

  “Alright, alright. Now hold on,” Marshall said, “you’re not the first man to put a gun to my head and make demands. Trust me, that’s not a club you want to be a part of. Drop the gun before I shove it down your throat.”

  Reyes hammered his gun against Marshall. “Omega, what is it?”

  “Liquidation of loose ends.” Marshall laughed and shrugged. “If it makes you feel any better, Omega isn’t just you. There are others on the list, including Dr. Chatra.”

  “Me?” Chatra asked. “But, I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Right and wrong don’t influence orders. Innocence ends with a bullet. Right Reyes?”

  “You’re not innocent.”

  “And you are? I know about Siam, Malaysia, and Ghana. I know your secrets.”

  “I’ve done nothing wrong,” Reyes said. He was shocked to hear Marshall bring up locations of covert operations. Greene didn’t even know the details of those missions.

  Nino was smiling at Reyes. “That’s what we do, boy. We follow orders and pretend we’re inno—”

  “Nino, I’m proving a point and you interrupted me. The gun is at my head, do you want him to point it at yours?”

  “I would, sir.”

  “I know, soldier, but don’t open your mouth without permission, got it?” Marshall scolded him. He dropped his hands to the steering wheel and rolled his neck in a circle.

  “Ye…” Nino caught himself and nodded.

  “Good boy.” Marshall looked at Reyes in the rearview mirror. “As I was saying, my orders are simple; Marcel Reyes and Hemnat Chatra aren’t permitted to survive Salt Lake. Loose lips sink ships, and you two are risks.”

  “Why me?” Chakra’s voice cracked. Sweat built a small pool on the side of his temple.

  Reyes knew the answer to this. “President Watt.”

  “Can’t have Red Wave exposed, can we? If it makes you feel any better, I only wanted to threaten your families. People are willing to cut their own tongue out if it means keeping their wife and children safe.” Marshall enjoyed the situation. His confidence, arrogance was driving Reyes crazy. He had the upper hand, yet Marshall pretended to be the man in control. If Presdient Watt wanted him dead, he was sorely mistaken in how he ordered it. Reyes was going to kill Marshall and this punk, Nino.

  “But…” Chatra began to say.

  Click.

  Reyes looked at his pistol. He didn’t mean to pull the trigger.

  Click. Click.

  He didn’t, his finger wasn’t even on the trigger. Marshall’s shotgun was pinned between the driver’s side door and seat, pointed at Reyes’ kneecap. If the gun would have fired, Reyes would have lost his leg.

  “You.” Reyes said, pulling his own trigger.

  Click.

  His gun wasn’t empty and it didn’t jam. Neither was the shotgun. Neither was Nino’s failed pistol.

  The guns were useless.

  Every soldier realized the truth simultaneously. Reyes reached down to his ankle to unsheathe his new knife. Jordan reached over Chatra, bringing his knife down. Reyes leaned back and deflected Jordan’s knife into the base of the Hummer’s door. Nino stabbed at Reyes too, his blade pierced through his bicep and into his side.

  Reyes bucked against him. Waiting to feel the poison erupt in his blood.

  Nino pulled the knife out and adjusted it in his hands. The bronze handle was different than Marshall’s knife.

  This gave Reyes time to open his door and dive out the Hummer. Reyes felt the dust splash into the air as he hit the ground. The cold, stale substance seeped into his shoulder and caused an ache through his body.

  There would be time to spend with pain, but the moment was about survival. He needed to get away from these men. He rolled backwards, hiding underneath the Hummer.

  “You’re forgetting someone,” Marshall opened the door. “A good soldier comes back to save the civilians. Ain’t that what Greeny taught you?”

  Reyes couldn’t see through the fog from under the Hummer, but he could hear the rustling as Chatra was pushed around the car in Marshall’s direction. He continued, “Last chance. Give yourself up, and the good scientist doesn’t have to die.”

  This was a lie. He remained silent and listened for close movement.

  “Please, don’t do this. I’ve done nothing. I’m a good man. I can make a difference. What about the Grey Matter? You need me. Those samples are my objective. President Wa—”

  “Shhhh, President Watt has valued your honesty and fresh perspective. You’re brilliant. And I agree, you’re a good man. You don’t want to go out like a coward, do you?”

  “How are you going to solve this problem without me?”

  “You’re not the only brilliant mind on the payroll. Your valiant death will be reported as a terrible event during a heroic mission. Your contemporaries will rush to follow your legacy.”

  “But… Agh. Ah. Gggrllll.”

  The sound and smell of vomit flooded into the air. The meaty blood splattered against the dust by Reyes. Chatra fell over, holding his throat, gurgling out his dying breath.

  Chatra’s agony continued in the background as Marshall announced, “I’m not wasting my time out here searching. You no longer exist. You don’t have friends anymore. Anyone associated with Salt Lake City will be dead. President Watt is cleaning up house, you can either die out here, or stop existing. Either way, Greene will be dead by tomorrow morning. You’re alone.”

  Reyes wasn’t alone.

  He just had to get out from under the Hummer to prove it.

  *******

  Harry

  After midnight

  Salt Lake City, UT

  There were a lot of regrets in Harry’s life. He regretted marrying Mary. He regretted marrying Heather, too. Going through with his third marriage was no regret, but he would have been a better husband if he could do it over again. Harry wouldn’t regret the way he handled Mickey, not because his previous attitude was warranted. He would admit with a sunny smile on his face that he used to be a jerk towards Mickey when the kid didn’t deserve it. His inability to act on the roof didn’t give Harry the right to be a stupid jerk. Nothing would give him that right. This meant that Harry wouldn’t regret how he acted towards Mickey, because he would make it up to the kid. Advice, friendship, and a sense of humor can go a long way for millennials. Kids like him needed stronger adults in their lives. Harry was willing to do that, and so he wouldn’t have regrets.

  However, he would never get the same opportunity with Greg. The science nerd with a bipolar attitude similar to his ex-wife, Heather. One minute, Greg was wanting to partner up and change the world. The next, he was saying Harry was too emotionally unstable.

  The thing is, Greg was right. Harry hated him for it, too. Harry hated having some punk kid shove his flaws in his face. It made him feel ugly, worthless. It was the reason he went up to the roof in the first place.

  Harry wished he could have the chance to apologize to Greg. The kid was like Mickey, he needed someone by his side, and Harry was too selfish (and stupid) to offer a hand. Both deserved better than what Harry brought to the table, and that made him feel bad. He wouldn�
�t sacrifice friendships for anything, ever again.

  As Harry closed his eyes, trying to force himself to fall back asleep, he thought about Greg, and hoped he miraculously survived.

  *******

  Major Wallace Stansfield

  0250 (Mountain time)

  Draper, UT

  Wally couldn’t see the soldiers right next to him, he could only hear their heavy boots kicking through the dust. If someone approached, he wouldn’t be able to tell if it were friend or foe. Wally decided, despite orders, he would shoot to disable instead of shoot to kill. He would rather disobey orders than be known as a solider on the wrong side of friendly fire.

  Wally kept in step with the rest of the crew. His thirty man team was large, almost triple the size of what he experienced in other operations. Somewhere, out in the quiet city, there were thousands of other soldiers running towards the battle as well. This should have given him comfort, but instead, it made the silence more unbearable.

  The dusty particles flaked apart as he ran. Fragments stuck to his uniform and cheeks, oddly dense for being so thin.

  Wally looked left and finally saw another soldier. Slowly, more and more of his teammates became visible. As the air cleared, Commander Todd shouted, “50 yards!” Each soldier held their rifles tight against their chest and slowed the pace ahead. There was no reason for Commander Todd to shout orders when they were this close to enemy territory. Yet, his arrogance continued as they closed in on the strip mall.

  The fog faded as they entered the parking lot. The first two buildings were a dry cleaner and an Indian food restaurant. There was no sign of struggle, no sign of life, and no sign of anything other than mounds of grey dust. Most places were ankle deep, but there were bumps of dust scattered throughout the area as well. The wind must have created the rolling hills, Wally saw it happen before in Baghdad.

  As they approached the building, the fog was clear at ground level and hung just above the top of the dry cleaner’s sign. Wally could see the rest of his team, but there were only a dozen men.

  He spun in circles looking for the others. The fog looked like the outside of a cage.

  “On me,” Commander Todd whispered. “We search each building as one unit.”

  “Where are the others?” someone asked. Wally joined the group. There were no familiar faces.

  Except PFC Hanson. Somehow, the junior-level deadbeat was asked to join the mission. Wally didn’t remember seeing him on the bus before.

  This mission was turning out to be a bad idea.

  “They must’ve gotten turned around. They’ll get back on track, they’re going to be missing out on all the fun.”

  “We need numbers, sir,” Wally said.

  “Walk home then, Stansfield. Enemy activity was reported here last night. We search each building. If you’re scared, go home.”

  “He’s right, sir,” Hanson said. “This doesn’t feel right.”

  “Hanson, stand watch in the parking lot. Stansfield, take point. If you see movement in front of you, point and kill. Got it?”

  “Roger, dodger.” Wally was on tour several times. He re-enlisted because he was a good soldier and believed he was making a difference. He never went deep enough in the fields of battle to actually be at risk. He had experienced enemy fire, but only once. There was never a point where a commander was putting faith in him to run point. It may have fit his rank, but he wasn’t prepared for this. Wally didn’t want to do this. It wasn’t what he signed up for.

  But he did it anyway.

  It looked like a snowy night in south Jersey. If there weren’t hiding threats, Wally would’ve thought it looked pretty. The sky hung thick and fell slow, it was hard to look away.

  As he approached the door, there was a glimmer of a red light blinking through the front window.

  Wally aimed, but didn’t have a target.

  He looked back to the soldier behind him and nodded towards the possible location of a threat. Maybe his mind played tricks on him, but it was unlikely he hallucinated a stoplight on the ground.

  “Guys!” Hanson’s voice cracked. How he was given clearance for this mission began to infuriate Wally. The punk stood in the middle of the parking lot, gun to his side, with zero level of confidence. This was his first rodeo and he didn’t know how to saddle up.

  Neither did Wally.

  Wally silently wished he could switch the coward places. He was good at keeping watch, not good at sweeping through rooms. This was an exercise he only experienced in training, never in the field.

  Wally looked back to the building. He wasn’t going to waste time with Hanson. The other soldier’s would agree, they were here to do a job, not babysit. Wally walked towards the door and adjusted his stance.

  There was a tap on Wally’s shoulder, he looked back to see Commander Todd standing behind him. Todd pushed against the door as Wally stepped through.

  Hanson shouted, “Help! Help! Something is happening. Guys!”

  Wally turned back involuntarily, the parking lot shook as if there was a small earthquake.

  The dust mounds grew taller.

  The door rested against Wally’s shoulder as the Major walked back towards Hanson.

  “Stay calm,” Major shouted, the lines broke through the ash, the mounds continued growing. “Men, on me.” Wally and the others got into formation behind him and they slowly walked through the slow shifting dust.

  Hanson was losing control as he looked at all of the moving parts of the ground. It wasn’t an earthquake, the ground wasn’t vibrating. Instead, only the substance moved.

  Wally turned back to the strip mall, Commander Todd led them away from the mission, but that was okay with Wally. Whatever was happening, he wanted to go. This was too dangerous They were outnumbered, probably. This was the wrong decision. The entire team should turn their backs on the mission and leave.

  The time he spent staring into the strip mall separated him from the others by over ten feet.

  There was one pile of dust shaking between him and the team.

  Despite the movement, despite the fear, there wasn’t even one gunshot in the distance. Wally wasn’t going to be the first one to pull the trigger.

  Wally approached the large mound. Wally’s eyes followed a piece of dust cascading left and right through the air. It landed with an empty silence.

  Wally looked up to the team.

  They were standing with Hanson, in a circle, surrounded by mounds.

  Those blocks of dust were not there when Wally’s team entered the parking lot.

  It was too late, but he understood why there was no gunfire.

  It was an ambush.

  The mounds weren’t piles of dust.

  Wally looked down, the stack grew taller.

  Flakes rolled down.

  The pale grey trickled down leaving a deep black substance, like gun powder.

  The black dust fell, leaving only a figure.

  A woman.

  “Light her up!” Commander Todd shouted.

  Wally wasted no time. He aimed. Despite his fear, he was close enough for an easy kill shot.

  The gun jammed.

  He ejected the mag and pulled back the bolt. Wally needed this to be a light jam, otherwise he didn’t have time and would need his sidearm. At this distance, that wouldn’t be a problem.

  The woman’s black eyes locked on him. The curves of her face were sharp, highlighted by her matching black lips.

  She didn’t smile.

  She didn’t acknowledge Wally.

  She wasn’t a terrorist.

  Terrorists were human.

  This woman was something else.

  Wally dropped his rifle and pulled his sidearm.

  There wasn’t even a jerk from the jam. Guns don’t jam on the first shot. Wally took care of his weapons.

  Dust kicked up behind the woman as she leaned into a sprint.

  No guns, Wally would have to get his hands dirty. He spent years of training on hand to hand com
bat. A woman like this could pose a problem for many men, but Wally was an elite fighter in his class.

  He pulled the knife from his belt as she closed in. Her wild running left her body exposed to several potential killing blows. There wasn’t time to think about anything else. It was now or never.

  There was a thin scratch along his neck as he evaded the woman’s reach and jabbed his knife into her hip. It lodged into the bone and broke from his grip as she fell to the ground. The sound of it crunching against her hipbone when she landed echoed into his ears.

  She should’ve shrieked from the pain, but she was silent as she pushed herself off the ground.

  He bent down to grab another knife sheathed on his ankle. She was coming back.

  As he unbuttoned the knife, a drop of blood fell at his feet.

  Heat rushed down his chest.

  There was pain along his shoulders, there was a fading flash in his vision. He was light-headed.

  Wally reached up and grabbed the wound on his neck.

  There was no pain, but weakness rushed into his legs, He dropped the one knee and looked back to the team. He wanted to warn them, but the air of his voice escaped out from the bubbles in his throat.

  It tickled.

  The sounds of static erupted in his ears. His vision blurred.

  Wally fell onto his stomach. He gripped his neck and tried to stop the bleeding. The chalky dust felt cool against his blood as half of his face sunk into the dust.

  In his dying moment, Wally watched as his team was overrun by dark silhouettes.

  *******

  Jenna

  Too late

  Salt Lake City, UT

  It feels different now. Something is wrong and you know it. You need to ask Mona.

  Jenna didn’t want to know. She looked around the room to find the tension in the others, but they all pretended to ignore it. Shelly was resting, Mona was staring at the door, but everyone else was laying around like usual.

  They don’t trust Mona enough to ask either.

  That was a stupid thought. Mona was the only person who hasn’t screwed up in some colossal way.