by Lucien Black
Hunter replied quickly, “Dammit Calin, get them out of there. Cleave just crashed through the wall on the third floor.”
“I’ve lost contact with the team Hunter. Before the explosion, Sara said she was not aborting the mission. They’re going to need help.”
“I’m on it boss,” Hunter replied and quickly dropped from the side of the roof and reached into his jacket, from which he pulled a small radio device. He flipped open the device and pressed the red button. Within a heartbeat, the streets below erupted in small explosions. The three members of the Protectorate that were waiting outside the building quickly went on the defensive trying to figure out the source of the attack.
Hunter stood back up from his crouched position and leaned over the side of the roof. With PIKE rifle in hand, Hunter brought the left eye of the closest member of the Protectorate in his sights. Depressing the trigger, the weapon released a dart shaped bullet that screamed towards its target.
PIKE technology gave the Resistance an edge when dealing with the Protectorate. The shell released two charges; an exploding package and an acid capsule that activated on impact. Once the capsule shattered and released the acid, the exploding charge ignited the acid and caused serious damage to their target. The shell found its target and in a split second, the acid tore through his eye socket and into his brain. The Protectorate member dropped to the ground writhing in agony. His fellow members were distracted enough to not pay too much attention, as they were trying to figure out where the explosions were coming from.
Hunter quickly dropped back out of sight and quickly made for the other side of the building. With a running start, he leapt to the next rooftop and headed toward his backup position; hoping, he would make it there in time.
Chapter 12
“We’re getting out of here. Let’s go,” Jack said as he motioned to the children to follow him out into the hallway. As he was just about to open the door, Jack heard fast approaching footsteps. Someone was coming.
“Damn,” Jack thought as he turned back to the kids. “Ok kids you know what, I think you guys better go back in the bedroom to your hiding spot. I am going to just check and make sure that everything is clear before we move ok.” He shuffled the kids back to the closet and closed the door on them.
Returning to the living room, Jack ran over to Cleave’s limp body and grabbed one of his axes. It was surprisingly lighter than Jack had anticipated. It had cut through the counter as if it was made of paper so he expected it to be immovable. He ran over to the front door and listened intently on the noise in the hallway.
Suddenly, the footsteps stopped and the only thing he could hear was his heart beating loudly inside his chest. For a few seconds nothing, then, the doorknob started to move.
Jack readied himself.
Chapter 13
Calin Scott sat quietly at the make shift command station in the Resistance Headquarters. His short brown hair, matted with sweat, clung to the skin of his forehead. He sat, lost in thought about his situation. How it came to be that he, a former Army Captain was now the leader of a band of resistance fighters. For it had been nearly four years since the Protectorate, a group of super powered criminals, seized control of the government and rained havoc on the United States. Four years since he abandoned his military post and formed the Western Front; a small band of resistance fighters formerly from all walks of life. He thanked his maker repeatedly that his former mentor, Carl Hunter, joined his band of freedom fighters. Hunter, a formidable soldier, was Calin’s former drill instructor, then eventually friend and mentor. He was also thankful that he was able to keep his sister, Sara, alive and well. That was at least until today.
The hands on his wristwatch clicked loudly, like the beat of a slow drum in his ears, as the seconds turned to minutes since he last heard from both Sara and Hunter. The mission was dangerous, but his informants told him that they had at least until the morning. Now, Calin second guessed himself and wondered if he had sent his loved ones into the face of certain death.
He tapped the communicator and spoke into the com, “Eye in the sky report. Strike Force 1 do you copy.” He released the switch on the communicator and heard nothing but dead air. Calin slid back his chair and rose from the communication bank, held his right hand against his head and his left at his hip. He walked over to his planning table and stared at the pictures and maps wondered how his team would get out of their current plight. He slid his hand from his forehead down over his face and covered his mouth, tugged gently on his lips and chin. He saw no angle. No possible way his team could get out of there unscathed.
Angered, Calin slammed his fist into the wall, a divot left behind. He quickly walked over to a large banquet table, covered in files. He flipped through the stacks until he found two files; one labeled Subject: Cleave and the other labeled Subject: Card.
Cleave and Card were both members of the Protectorate. Cleave, a heavyweight bad guy, with amazing levels of strength was a two-bit thug before he fell in with the Protectorate. From the Intel he had gathered, Calin knew that Cleave would be a formidable opponent but not unstoppable.
Card on the other hand, was lethal. Calin’s dossier on Card was light, on the verge of nonexistent. A black and white suit, with black cape and cowl, Card was a transporter. His powers and abilities allowed him to navigate different dimensions and draw power from them as well. However, the extent of his abilities was dangerous. No one, not even Calin’s informant knew the limits of Card’s power.
He removed pictures of both Cleave and Card from their dossiers and pinned them to the corkboard next to the maps and pictures of the scene. He cursed to himself that he did not have more information on the other members of the Protectorate hit squad that arrived on the scene. As he stared at the wall, a sudden chirp arose from the communication bank.
Calin raced across the room, grabbed his com, and shouted, “Sara. Hunter. Come back.” Through the static, Calin could hear a male voice but could not make out the words.
“Hunter, report,” he shouted into the com.
“Calin…them back…Protec…” This time Calin could identify that the voice belonged to Carl Hunter, but he could not understand the message.
“Hunter, say again, you’re breaking up!” Calin said, but there was no response. Instead, the communication equipment returned the same dead air as it had before.
Calin sat in his chair and leaned back. His hope had been somewhat restored that his friend was still alive, but for how long he could not say. All he could do now was wait and hope for the best.
Chapter 14
Once Carl Hunter made it to the other building, he slid down the fire-escape ladder and into the alleyway across from the target building. He ran up to the corner of the building and peered around the corner. On the street in front of the target building, two members of the Protectorate stood back to back to protect themselves while the third member on the street writhed and convulsed from Hunter’s dead on target shot from the PIKE rifle. The small explosions that Hunter set off earlier were a good distraction, but their value quickly ran thin.
He slipped back into the alley and ran to the other end, climbed onto some boxes and over a small chain link fence that separated this alley from the opposing street. He dropped to the ground and clicked his com unit again.
“Calin? Sara?” he questioned through the com but there was no response, just static. Standard Protectorate operating procedure; jam all communications. He thought to himself. He was able to connect briefly to Calin a few minutes before but now silence.
Hunter pulled himself from the ground and started down the alley to the other block of streets. When he exited the alley, he checked both sides to make sure there was no other hazards and then took a left out of the alleyway. Thankfully, with the curfews in effect, it was unnecessary to dispose of or hide his PIKE rifle, so he kept it at the ready.
When he made it to the end of the block, Hunter cautiously made the left turn to head back towards their origin
al target. He took the two-block gap in a slow jog and slowed down as he approached the corner. He readied his weapon and again peered around the corner. Now from this vantage point, he could see that the two members of the Protectorate were now back in control of the situation; one speaking over a com unit, the other tended to their fallen comrade. Hunter slipped back around the corner and tried to figure out his next move. It was then he saw the small, unmarked black van about a block down the street in the opposite direction of their assailants. He slowly crossed the street and used the sparse cover he could find to move closer to the van.
Once he reached the vehicle, Hunter opened the driver’s side door and slipped inside. With the door closed behind him, Hunter released a long, deep breath and took a moment to regain composure. He was an old man, definitely too old to be run around playing soldier anymore, but he owed it to Calin. The man was like a son to him and his sister Sara, like a daughter. He had no children of his own, his wife, never wanted children and took surgical means to do so. Calin had been an adult when his parents passed away, but Sara was still in her late teens and was distraught. Hunter and his wife helped Calin with Sara and they became a very close-knit family of their own.
When Hunter’s wife died just before the Protectorate took control, he thrust himself into support for Calin’s crazy idea of setting up a resistance to fight against the super powered criminal regime that now acted as a provisional government in the US. He never imagined the fight would cost so many lives. Now potentially, with his pseudo-daughter, Sara trapped the helplessness ran through him. He had to do something, but he could not figure out what.
Then an idea struck him. He released the brake on the van, opened the door and used his foot to push the van into motion. He certainly did not want to call any attention to himself by starting the vehicle. Slowly, the van rolled away from the battle. Since there were little vehicles on the streets, Hunter was able to roll nearly 500 feet before he slammed the door, started the engine and peeled off to the left and far away from the battle.
If I can’t help them, I know someone who can. The old man thought to himself.
Chapter 15
The plan was simple. Arrive on the scene and secure the objects for transit. It sounded simple enough and everyone had his or her objectives. Card was to transport the assault team to the location. Upon arrival, Pummel would toss Cleave at the third story wall. Between her enhanced strength and Cleave’s resistance to damage, it would be as if a baseball had shattered a glass window. Cleave entered the building nearly 11 minutes ago. Card, Pummel and a newly endowed criminal by the name of Raptor were to guard the streets until the objects were in Cleave’s possession.
Within minutes, the three members of the Protectorate were under assault as explosions ripped along the streets. Card and Pummel protected themselves as best they could, but a quick glance over his shoulder showed Card that their new recruit, Raptor, writhed in agonizing pain on the ground. They were under attack and had no idea what happened.
“Pummel,” Card shouted, “get Raptor under cover.” The large woman turned and scooped up the now limp body of Raptor and carried him quickly to the sidewalk and up against the building. She was a hulking mass of a woman; one that made female body builders look on themselves as weak and feeble. She wore a dark black leotard that covered her chest and body. Her arms were bare to the hands and she wore two leather cuffs around her wrists.
The debris from the explosions littered the floor and provided some cover, and the explosions started to dissipate. After she set Raptor on the ground, Pummel rolled him over and looked at his face. Where his left eye should have been, there was a deep black gash with cauterized flesh and brain matter lined the wound. She checked his pulse but it was too late; he was already dead.
Pummel stood up and lumbered towards Card. Card turned to face the woman and asked, “Well?”
“He’s dead,” she responded.
A look of frustration covered Card’s face and he reached his left hand to his ear and clicked the receiver. “Cleave, come in.”
There was no response. “Cleave,” he said again.
There was still no response.
“Let’s hold position here, I’m calling in reinforcements,” Card said as he motioned for Pummel to stand her ground.
Chapter 16
Sara Scott gently turned the knob to the door of apartment 311. When the knob reached its maximum turn, she gingerly pushed the door open and peered inside. From her vantage point, she could see half the apartment and the damage from the fight between Jack and Cleave. She forced the door open farther and let it open all the way.
The apartment was a mess. The little furniture that was inside now lay in rubble. Half of the kitchen counter sat in the living room. Sara motioned for her team to enter the apartment and one by one, they slid inside and each took covering positions in the room. Sara was the last to enter and she stopped at the room’s center and looked at the body of Cleave. She kneeled down and checked his neck; he was still alive, but down for the count. She rose to her feet and looked around the room at the damage.
Suddenly, the sound of a muffled cough disturbed the silence and Sara spun with her weapon ready aimed towards the back bedroom. She motioned for her team to cover her as she advanced towards the room.
*
Jack Ander cursed under his breath as one of the children in the closet near him coughed uncontrollably. He could hear the muffled whispers of the children as they tried to cover up the noise.
He was sure they heard him. He could not see his assailants, but he knew they approached. He stood ready with Cleave’s lightweight, black axe in his hands aimed for the entryway to the room. As he waited, Jack began reflected on his life and all the times he avoided conflict or hid from danger. Now it was too late to hide; too late to escape. He gripped the axe tighter as he thought about his father and verbal and physical abuse he inflicted on Jack. Rage began to boil inside him as he remembered each of the blows that landed against his face and body. “You’re nothin’ but a coward.” The words rang in his head and Jack desperately tried to wipe them from his mind.
It was time for Jack Ander to step up and be the hero. It was time for him to face the truth about who he was and the special things he could do. Time for him to reveal those secrets he kept bottled up for so many years.
*
Sara inched her way to the back bedroom, her gun aimed at chest height, as her brother, Calin, had always taught her. She turned and waved her team to take covering positions at the end of the hall. The other men complied with her orders. She continued towards the room, stopped just at the doorframe, and listened. She was just about to step into the room when the blade of an axe crashed into the door, where her head would have been if she were a second faster.
The axe cut through the door and into the wall behind it. Jack tugged on the axe to try to free the blade but was it was stuck. Sara witnessed Jack’s struggle and used the opening to her advantage. She swung her right leg around and caught Jack openly in the stomach. He wrenched forward and as he did, Sara caught him with an uppercut, which sent Jack back. She entered the room and leveled her weapon against his head. A second behind her, Sara’s team entered the room and aimed their weapons at Jack.
Jack stood up and stared at Sara’s assault team. He was a bit embarrassed that a woman had knocked him reeling, but she could fight he thought.
“Where are the children?” Sara asked sternly.
Jack looked at her and shook his head, “What children?”
Sara lunged, grabbed Jack’s shirt and pulled him close. “I don’t know who you are mister, but I want answers. Where are they?”
At that moment, the closet door opened and one of the children charged Sara and kicked at her leg. “Leave him alone, he’s our friend.”
Confused, Sara let Jack go and kneeled down to the child. She grabbed the child’s arms to keep her from flailing. “They’re ok,” Sara said surprised. “It’s ok, kid, I’m going to
get you and your friends out of here.”
She turned to Jack, who stood motionless under the assault squad’s guard. Sara rose to her feet and stepped towards him. She looked him over and saw all the bruises and the blood dripped from his nose. “Cleave do that to you?” she asked.
Jack thought for a moment and then surmised the man in the living room was Cleave. “If you mean the big guy in the living room, then the answer is yes, I was trying to protect the kids. But, I didn’t drop him, it was the girl. She hit him with something and then she passed out.”
Sara turned to the closet and saw the few children huddled around the body of the girl Jack referenced. She turned back to Jack and outstretched her hand, “All right then, if you’re on their side, then you’re on ours too. Sara Scott.”
Jack hesitated for a moment, took her hand, and said, “Jack Ander.”
Chapter 17
Hunter spun the wheel of the van hard to the left and skidded across the pavement as he rounded the corner. By now, he figured he was out of the range of the Protectorate’s communication jam so he thumbed the communication device. “Calin come in this is Hunter. Do you copy?”
A second later, the communication device came to life, “Hunter, this is Calin, thank the maker you’re ok. What the hell happened?”
“They had the building covered; there wasn’t much I could do to help. I took one out before I vacated. Sara and her team are going to need back up. It’s time.”
There was a pause over the communication device and Hunter re-spoke, “Calin did you get that.”
“I got it,” Calin finally responded, “but this may compromise our position indefinitely.”
“We don’t have a choice Calin,” Hunter barked. “If we don’t get them some support, they won’t make it out of there alive.”