Thicker Than Blood

by James P. Sumner

  “I think running scared is a little optimistic. I know people like him, Adrian. He’ll already have six contingency plans in place to deal with us. If I’m honest, I’m worried you might be underestimating him.”

  “I’m not, relax. I’ve dealt with him, and people like him, before. Trust me.”

  He finishes his drink and gets to his feet. “I need a piss. All this water is killing me.”

  I smile to myself as I watch him disappear behind the bar, searching for the restroom. He was skeptical when I was positive. It’s usually the other way around. He might have a point, though. Am I kidding myself thinking Horizon isn’t prepared for this? Killing Pierce doesn’t mean shit when there’s an army of trained killers lining up for their chance to come after me. Besides, Horizon himself has said many times how resourceful The Order can be. How can we possibly compete with that?

  D’you know what? No. I should trust my gut. I’m the only one to ever truly get away, which counts for something. They won’t know how to handle it, because they’ve never had to before. If we can—

  What was that noise?

  I snap my head left and look out across the restaurant. I feel time slowing down around me. It’s instinctive… reflexive… and nothing good ever happens when it does. It means something bad is either happening, or is about to, and I’m not paying attention, so my subconscious is spelling it out for me.

  It’s a useful skill to have.

  I heard a high-pitched ping and now I can hear people screaming. Directly in front of me, a woman is falling. She hits the floor hard and her head rolls to the side. Her lifeless eyes stare up at me. My gaze is drawn to the bullet hole between them, leaking a thin trickle of blood down her face.

  What the hell is going on?

  People are scrambling to their feet, rushing around with no direction or purpose, lost in panic. I follow the path I know the bullet must have taken and see a small hole in the front window. That would explain the ping. Beyond that, the street and the sidewalk are quiet. There isn’t any traffic passing by, just a large, rusty panel van parked across the street with its side door open. Even with the low, atmospheric lighting in here, and the slight glare on the window, I can make out the rifle, and the man kneeling just inside, holding it steady, aiming at the building. At me.

  Aiming… right… at… me…

  Shit!

  Time resumes its normal pace, and I dive out of the booth to the floor, keeping low. There’s another ping, followed by more screaming. I look around, but I can’t see another—

  Someone else just hit the floor, dead. A man, this time. Another headshot.

  I close my eyes briefly. “Goddammit!”

  I scurry over to the bar and crouch behind it. I take out my gun, struggle to work the slide, flick the safety off, and peer around the side. I can’t see the shooter from here. Everyone is still running around, although a few of them seem to have realized there’s a door, and they’re rushing out onto the street.

  Josh appears, wiping his hands on his legs. He sees me and stops. A split-second later, he hits the deck, pressing himself against the bar beside me. “What’s going on?”

  I quickly peer around the corner again. “Sniper. In a van across the street. Two dead. Both headshots.”

  I hear him rack the slide back on his gun, chambering a round. “For Christ’s sake, I leave you alone for two minutes!” He sighs. “Horizon must’ve traced the call earlier, when we answered Pierce’s cell. That must be how he tracked us down so quickly. Shit!”

  “I don’t care how this happened, Josh. The woman, over there by our table… The bullet she caught was meant for me. It was on target, too. I never would’ve seen it coming, Josh. She’s dead because she decided, in that moment, to leave her table and walk in front of ours.”

  He nudges my arm, a small gesture of comfort. “Not your fault, man. Fate can be a bitch, but don’t put that on your shoulders, okay? Other people’s destinies are definitely not your problem.”

  I nod. “I know. But the fact you’re right doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  “I can imagine. But right now, we have slightly more pressing matters to attend to, wouldn’t you say? What’s the plan?”

  I look around, past Josh, toward the back, where the restrooms are. “Is there a back way outta this place?”

  He nods. “Yeah, there’s a door that leads out into the alley where the trashcans are. I just passed it.”

  “Okay. You head out there, circle around, and see if you can take him out from his right flank.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  I take a deep breath. “Give him a target.”

  14

  22:03 PDT

  I step out from cover, aiming my gun directly at the van across the street with as much steadiness as I can muster. I’m not used to fighting the effects of adrenaline with my weaker arm, so this isn’t as easy as it usually is.

  Focus, Adrian, come on!

  I walk quickly through the restaurant, ignoring the confused looks from the people who have finally figured out it’s beneficial to not move. I’m almost at the front entrance now.

  Why hasn’t this asshole fired at me yet?

  The door is standing open. Just outside, another body is sprawled face down on the sidewalk, leaking blood from a hole in the side of its head.

  Oh.

  I put my back to the strip of wall between the door and the window, holding my gun loose and ready at my side. I take some deep breaths as I struggle to keep my heart rate steady. In a moment, I’m going to pop out, and drop to one knee. I should have enough time for one shot, which is all I need. I don’t know who the shooter is, but I think it’s safe to say they’re one of The Order’s finest.

  You should have seen this coming…

  Yes, I know.

  I bring my gun up and rest the top edge of the barrel against my forehead. I close my eyes for a few seconds, playing out my next move over and again in my head, planning for every eventuality to ensure the other guy ends up dead.

  “Hey. Are you a cop?”

  Hmm?

  I open my eyes. A few feet in front of me, a young couple are crouching beneath the table of their booth. The guy is looking up at me expectantly.

  I smile awkwardly. “Ah… not as such, no. But, I am the guy that maniac out there is trying to shoot, so I figured I’d try shooting him first, see if I can put a stop to this before anyone else gets hurt. Sound like a good idea?”

  He nods hurriedly, his eyes wide. The poor guy’s scared out of his mind. But he has his arms around the woman he’s with, holding her close, shielding her.

  Good man.

  I pat the air with my hand, gesturing for him to stay where he is. “That guy’s a pretty good shot, but I’m better, okay? Just keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll be fine. You all will. Let me—”

  Shit!

  I instinctively tilt to the side as a bullet punches into the section of wall where my head was a moment ago. I look ahead and see a man pointing a gun at me. He must have come out of the kitchen area on the right.

  “Oh, come on! There’s two of you? That’s cheating!”

  I snap my aim to him and fire twice. I miss the mark both times, but I was close enough to force him back inside the kitchen. People start screaming again, shocked by the sudden gunfire.

  I hope Josh is going to shoot that asshole in the van, because this prick is mine.

  I set off running back through the restaurant, keeping as low as I can. I make it to the back wall without getting shot at, which is something. I turn right and see the double swing doors that lead to the kitchen. There’s a large partition next to me, wide enough to have fake plants inside it. I crouch with my back to it and rest my shoulder on the nearest door. Using my cast, I gently push it, cracking it an inch.

  No sign of him, but that doesn’t mean shit.

  Staying low, I switch sides, and rest my shoulder against the left door. I lean forward and push the right door op
en hard. Two gunshots sound out, echoing slightly from inside, and punch into the door about halfway up as it swings back. They don’t go through, because it’s made of thick metal, but they cause indentations on my side. I can tell from the shape of them that the rounds were fired on a slightly downward angle, which means this bastard is standing directly ahead, in line with the right-hand door.

  Still crouching, I shove the left door open, and step inside. I fire off four shots in the direction I think he’s in. I see movement, but no shooter. He must have ducked away, farther inside the kitchen. I stand, and make my way around the left side, moving past the large ovens and grills, still hissing away. There isn’t anyone here. They probably all took off when the screaming started.

  The kitchen is laid out in an S-shape, with the walkway running between all the cooking surfaces. A variety of smells, both current and stale, fill the air. The floor is clean, but the tiles are discolored, I’m guessing from years of grease. I navigate through the area, stooping slightly, and keeping my finger lightly on the trigger.

  Still no sign of anyone.

  Where the surfaces finish, it opens out into another area with two large sinks, side by side, filled with water and foam. Beyond that, it branches off to the left and right, which leads to an exit, and a storage room respectively. I doubt the guy would have split, so I follow it to the right, and—

  Uh!

  —walk into a heavy punch that connects with the side of my head. It catches me off-guard, and I stagger backward slightly, dropping my gun in the process.

  Shit, where did that go?

  I recover quickly, and bring my cast up for protection as I throw a left hook, hitting the guy on the side of his ribcage, just below his armpit. He creases over, but manages to swing his gun around like a dead weight, and strike me squarely on the forehead.

  “Fuck!”

  I stagger backward again, except this time I can’t recover as fast. A lightning bolt of agony shoots across my brow, pulsing like a sick heartbeat. The pain can wait. I’m just glad it didn’t re-open my wound.

  I turn back around as the guy is striding toward me, raising his gun. I whip my cast up and to the side, knocking his arm back across him. Then, I push my foot into his leg, just below the inside of his knee, to send him off-balance. As he falls forward, I throw another hook, which connects with his jaw on his way down. I didn’t hit him as hard as I usually would, but it’ll do for now. He crashes to the floor, still awake, but stunned. His gun disappears under one of the ovens.

  I wish I’d seen where my gun went…

  I head over to get it, but hear movement behind me. I spin around to see what this guy’s—

  Ah!

  Never mind. It would appear he’s recovered.

  I fall back against the side, reeling from the straight punch to my face, but manage to get my cast up to block the follow-up shot. He leans over me, and I push him away with my leg. He takes a couple of steps back, but it does little to slow him. I don’t know who he is, but he’s a tough sonofabitch, I’ll give him that. He just keeps coming.

  I move forward and bring my cast down hard like a hammer. He blocks it, but still reels slightly from the effects. I follow it up with a jab to his nose, hoping to do enough with it to at least make his eyes water. He shrugs it off, grabs me by the throat with both hands, and spins me counterclockwise into the next surface along. He pins me down, forcing my back to arch over the edge as he tightens his grip, restricting my ability to breathe.

  Just relax, Adrian. Don’t panic. Focus.

  I tense my neck and jaw as much as I can, fighting against his grip. I push back against his throat with my cast, and fumble for his hand with my left, trying to grab a finger or two to break.

  Holy crap, it’s getting hot…

  I flick my gaze to the side, and see a deep fat fryer, bubbling away furiously.

  That might be why—shit!

  I grit my teeth, still struggling to take a breath. I shuffle my hips into position, swing my leg up, and catch him hard between the legs with my shin. You can be as tough as you want, but you get kicked in the balls, it’ll make you think.

  He loosens his grip enough for me to wriggle free. I push him to create a little distance, and swing my cast again, connecting with his temple. He didn’t see it coming and caught the full brunt of it. The blow didn’t drop him, but his eyes are glazing over.

  I don’t pause for a second. I slam the inside edge of my good hand into his throat, which makes him cough as he gasps for air. I hit him again, this time in the gut, to knock the wind out of him. He instinctively doubles over, and I grab the back of his head, dragging him over to the fryer.

  Another hammer blow to his head with the cast for good measure.

  “That’s for shooting at me, you sneaky bastard.”

  I stamp on the back of his leg, so he buckles beneath his own weight, and then shove his head forward, completely submerging it in the boiling oil of the fryer. I lean back, trying not to get splashed. I feel him push against my grip and his arms flail wildly for about ten seconds.

  Then he stops moving.

  I give it a few more seconds, to be sure, and then pull him up slowly, trying to avoid—

  Holy shit!

  Oh, man, that’s disgusting! His skin has dissolved. The bits of flesh that remain attached to his face are still festering. His eyes have…

  You know what? Never mind. It’s too horrific, even for me. The guy’s dead, let’s leave it at that, eh? All I’ll say is if Freddy Krueger ever needs a stunt double, this guy is now top of the list. He wouldn’t even need make-up.

  I let his body drop to the floor, and lean forward on the surface in front of me, resting for a moment while trying to catch my breath.

  Man, that sucked.

  Okay, where’s my gun?

  I crouch and look around near where I was standing when I got punched in the face the first time.

  …

  …

  …

  Got it. It was under the sink.

  Right, where’s Josh?

  I head out through the back door, which leads to an alleyway. I turn right, and follow the damp, gritty, weed-covered path until I reach the sidewalk at the front of the building. I press myself against the wall and peer around the corner. I reckon I’m maybe ten feet from the main entrance. I can see the van across the street, and have a much clearer view of the guy with the sniper rifle.

  I kneel, bring both my arms up, and rest my gun on my cast, to steady my aim. There’s enough panic around here that one more gunshot isn’t going to make much difference. Besides, this guy needs taking out, before he decides to take another potshot inside the restaurant.

  I line up my shot, aiming for—

  A single gunshot echoes loudly, and I watch the sniper slump to the side, falling out of the van, and landing face down on the road.

  What the hell?

  I stand, and walk out, looking along the street. I see Josh appear from the opposite side of the building, his gun aimed low, but ready.

  I roll my eyes, and sigh with relief, as I make my way over to him. He sees me and meets me in front of the restaurant window.

  I nod. “Nice shot. What took you so long?”

  “Some people followed me out the back, so I was trying to get them to safety first. Then I…” He trails off as he looks me up and down. “Jesus, Adrian! What happened? You look… interesting.” He sniffs the air beside me. “And you smell of deep-fried chicken.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I’m never eating at KFC again…”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. There was a second gunman. He’s dead. That smell of chicken is actually the guy’s head—I drowned him in a deep fat fryer.”

  “Holy shit! That’s disgusting!”

  “Correct. Beats being killed though.”

  He’s lost a little color in his cheeks, and keeps grimacing, as if he’s struggling to keep his lunch down as we walk over to the van. I can hear sir
ens in the distance. Josh crouches beside the body, and flips him over, revealing his face. He looks up at me. “You know him?”

  I shake my head. “Never seen him before. He had to be with The Order, though. He was a good shot.”

  Josh stands. “That would be my guess, too. Come on, it’s probably time we weren’t here. I’ll make some calls when we get to a hotel. If Horizon mobilized a two-man team so quickly, he must be rattled. Maybe you were right.”

  “Maybe. But this might have been nothing more than a show of strength from Horizon. A shot across the bow, so to speak. He got a team to intercept us within a half hour of speaking to us. That’s scarily impressive.”

  Josh nods gravely. “True. Plus, this basically confirms Sterling will be expecting us tomorrow.”

  “Well, let’s worry about that tomorrow. We should move.” We jog back over to the parking lot around back and climb inside Josh’s convertible. He puts the key in the ignition, but I reach over and put my hand on his wrist before he turns it. “Wait a second.”

  I climb back out, bend down, and check underneath the car. I run my hand under the wheel arches.

  Nothing.

  Satisfied, I get back in. Josh is looking at me. “Everything alright?”

  “Just checking for explosives. Having been blown up by a car before, I’m naturally paranoid during times of crisis.”

  He smiles. “It must be crazy inside your head, man.”

  He starts the car and eases out of the lot. We head away from the restaurant and are soon lost in the sea of anonymous traffic. Every kind of emergency service rushes past us, sirens blaring. I hope everyone in that place is okay. I’m thankful we are, too.

  I have a feeling this is just the beginning.

  15

  June 8, 2017

  09:34 PDT

  Not wishing to sound paranoid, but I feel justified in thinking every single person I see right now could potentially try to kill me. I’m not scared, and even though I only have one useful hand, I’m confident in saying I’ll kill anyone who comes at me, without prejudice or hesitation. The problem I’m having is my years of training, and the instincts I’ve honed through many years of killing people for money, won’t allow my mind to rest when my life could be in danger at any moment. Consequently, I had zero sleep last night.