RB 01 Through Flesh & Bone

by Frederick S dela Cruz

  Paige had breathed in some of the chemicals from the moist towel, but the adrenaline now coursing through her veins helped her stay sharp. She turned to look at him; she saw her attacker’s face.

  “Help! Help me!” she screamed.

  But Sik quickly recovered. He lunged at her and tackled her to the floor, next to a coffee table.

  With his weight above her, the fall made her lose her breath, and for a moment, she gasped and heaved, struggling to fill her lungs. Her chest and stomach were tightly clenched in pain and could not function.

  Sik saw her in anguish and immediately shoved the towel over her nose and mouth once again.

  Paige gasped and gasped. Finally, her stomach and chest loosened, and she drew in air. But she was forced to take in the chemicals from the towel.

  Sik came in closer, trying to gain more leverage.

  She swung her elbows at his face. One elbow connected with his jaw, and it rocked and snapped his head to the side, leaving him momentarily disoriented. Exerting all her strength, she pushed him off of her, to the side. She put her hand on top of the coffee table and began to push herself up. As she stood with her back facing Sik, her breathing was deep and rapid, and her heart pumped vigorously. She coughed, “Help!”

  However, with the chemicals now cycling through her blood, into her lungs, and into her head, she felt the dizziness begin to overcome her. Her eyes began to close, and she had to fight to keep them open.

  Sik staggered up and grabbed her once again, wrapping his arm around her from behind. He smothered her once more with the towel.

  She struggled, but her arms and legs became uncontrollable. Soon, her whole body grew limp. Then, her eyes closed, and she lost consciousness.

  Sik felt her body ease and realized that the fight was finally over. A moment later, he felt the warm blood, from the two gouged wounds on his face, begin to drip down his cheek.

  He shook his head; the fight disgusted him. She had dealt him a beating, and she had marked him. With disdain, he tossed her away.

  As Paige dropped, the side of her forehead struck the edge of the table, opening a gash. Her head deflected, her body turned, and she landed on her back.

  Sik stood straight, breathed in deep, and looked down at her.

  Dark, red blood began to slowly ooze out of Paige’s forehead.

  Seconds later, Sik made his way into the bathroom and cleaned the blood from his face. He walked back, calm and composed, and began to look for Paige’s keycard. “I know it’s somewhere here,” he said, and then he found it a short distance from her body.

  Before walking out of the room, he gazed at her face and saw the blood on her forehead drip down into her hair.

  Instinctively, he walked into the bathroom, grabbed a small towel, and moistened it with water. He paced back to Paige and knelt down beside her. Carefully, he padded the blood from the cut. Then, he wiped it away from her skin and hair. When the blood was gone, he methodically folded the towel and gingerly placed it over the cut.

  Softly resting his hand over the towel, he gazed at her face. He whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  After a moment, he lifted himself up and walked to the door. He opened it and glanced outside, to the left, then to the right, and listened. He heard nothing and saw nothing.

  Stepping out, he headed for the stairs. Since Paige’s room was at the end of the hall, the stairs were only a few steps further down.

  His room was two floors away. Once there, he went inside the bathroom and cleaned his face once again. He changed into his gray t-shirt, blue jeans, and black boots, and then threw his suit over the bed.

  Before leaving the room, he grabbed his ink kit from the drawer, beside the bed.

  In Paige’s room, he sat cross-legged next to her. He lifted the bloody face towel from her forehead and placed it on the coffee table.

  “Gotta get this done,” he said, and then reminded himself, “Detach. Keep being a cold machine.” Referring to the hooded man, he thought, He said the cops and FBI are gonna be coming soon. Then, it’ll be time to have some fun. It’ll be time to trick “em.

  With the ink gun in his hand, he stretched Paige’s arm closer to him. Bending his head down, in complete concentration, he began to work on her wrist.

  The buzzing of the ink gun echoed off of the table and into his ears. Its constant hum eased his mind, allowing him to focus solely on the task before him.

  The sound bounced further away, against the mirror at the center of the room. Then, it echoed from the window that presented the Golden Gate Bridge within its frame. Finally, it reached the far corner ceiling, at the opposite end of the room, and drowned the rhythmic sound of hissing coming from that corner.

  There, the dark entity hovered. As though calmly breathing undisturbed, its millions of minuscule smoke-black particles slowly collapsed, and then expanded. It extended long, thin appendages and stretched them to attach onto the three intersecting walls of the corner, like a spider waiting in its web. But it was not in waiting; it was merely watching and approving. It had long since succeeded in engulfing its prey in darkness.

  Calculating what it would have to do next, the dark entity decided that it would soon need to leave, in order to find the longhaired man, and trap him in a deception.

  * * * * * * *

  With Agent Etelson riding shotgun, Agent Stevens quickly stepped on the brake and steered the sedan to make a sharp right into the parking lot of the Marsters Hotel, in San Francisco. He slowed to a stop in an empty spot, a long distance away from the lobby entrance, not wanting to garner any attention.

  As they got out of the car and walked toward the hotel lobby, Agent Etelson spoke to Detective Kwan on her mobile phone, in order to tell him of their arrival.

  Detective Kwan had, moments ago, informed them of the concierge’s call from the Marsters that tipped them off on Kessian’s presence. Wearing a dark suit, Kwan walked out of the hotel lobby to greet them outside. He was in his late thirties with short black hair.

  They introduced themselves.

  “I’ve got uniformed and undercover guys at the perimeter of the building, along the parking lots,” Detective Kwan said. “And I’ve got a SWAT team ready behind the building, in their vehicle, waiting for the call. Let’s go inside and talk to the hotel manager and concierge who reported seeing Kessian.”

  They walked into the hotel.

  The Detective continued, “Their security has been on the lookout for Mr. Kessian’s movement. They know he hasn’t left the building, and they haven’t seen him come out of his room either.”

  “Let me guess,” Agent Etelson said, “On the fifth floor?”

  “Spot on,” Detective Kwan replied, with a smile. “It looks like you’ve been able to get some predictive behavior patterns.”

  Kwan led them behind the registration counter, through a short hallway, and then into an office room. There, the hotel manager and concierge stood in front of the manager’s desk and greeted the two agents.

  Agent Stevens showed them the composite sketches of Sik, and both men acknowledged that it was Samuel Ian Kessian whom they had seen.

  The hotel manager led them out of the office and into a separate room, in which hotel security personnel monitored surveillance cameras on several screens. They replayed a black and white video of Sik entering an elevator earlier that morning.

  “That’s our guy,” Agent Stevens confirmed. “A striking looking business man, I must say.”

  Agent Etelson spoke, “What’s the room number?”

  “Five five thirty-eight” the manager responded. “We have solid doors and locks. So, you’re gonna need the master key.” He handed both agents and the detective a keycard each.

  “Detective Kwan, this man is known to leverage highly destructive explosive devices. Is your team ready to do this?” Agent Etelson asked.

  “I can make the call right now. We already know the floor plan of the room. There’s a small living space just after the entrance to the room,
and around the corner to the right, there’s the bedroom. The team’s studied the situation and formulated a tactical success plan,” the Detective replied.

  Agent Stevens looked at his partner and said, “Ok. I’ll take a few guys up the stairs and you guys can enjoy the elevator music, if you like. We’ll need undercover officers on alert in the lobby. Let’s do this.”

  Within moments, the arriving ten-men SWAT team split up. Three went up one stairwell and three others entered the other stairwell with Agent Stevens. The remaining four men positioned themselves outside among other uniformed officers.

  Soon, in front of Room 5538, the SWAT team cautiously positioned themselves, flanked by the two agents and the detective.

  Beside the door handle, the lead man raised the keycard. For a few short seconds, they were silently frozen, ready with their guns and assault rifles drawn.

  The lead man slowly lowered his hand. He slid the keycard into the reader.

  The LED light flickered red then green.

  * * * * * * *

  Hours ago, the longhaired man had left Gul with General Parsin. And now, still struggling in his pursuit of the first missile, he reappeared in the sky much further in front of it than his first attempt. This time, he was quite high above the missile and slightly askew from its path.

  The second stage motor had disengaged, and now the third and final stage motor blazed a path for the missile out of the atmosphere.

  Like the first time, he immediately began to fall once he appeared. But unlike the first time, he wasn’t in an uncontrolled pathetic plunge. He spread out his arms and hands, in an angle from his body, putting himself in a gliding position.

  His fall was fast, but he could now direct it. Pleased, he said out loud, “Nice!”

  The third stage motor disengaged, and the remaining body of the missile carried the warhead. Now in its midcourse phase, the missile had begun to flatten its trajectory and cross over greater ground. It shot across the sky at a spectacular speed.

  Caught off guard by the missile’s surprisingly tremendous velocity, he could only watch, as it raced away far beneath him, at a pace of over fifteen times the speed of sound.

  “Not so nice!” he blurted in dismay, as his eyes followed it by.

  Even though the missile was fast, he nevertheless was able to sense some of its composition. It was solid-fuel propelled, and its ballistic warhead was protected by a heat shield of a graphite-based compound.

  Again, he calculated its distance and trajectory. The next time, he believed, would prove successful. His blood quickened with excitement, as the thundering sizzle of the ICBM still echoed in his ears. He noticed and thought, That thing flattened its trajectory pretty fast. So that means it’s not programmed to go a great distance - like across the ocean - and it’s still moving west. Maybe it’s targeting something relatively nearby.

  Once more, he disappeared and reappeared in his glide both above and in front of the missile’s path.

  The missile fast approached.

  He took his eyes off the projectile and looked to the west. At his position, there was now a glimmer of the sun’s rays just out into the horizon.

  Now having some light, he tried to spot landmarks, saying, “Out there are Israel and Lebanon because that’s the Mediterranean Sea.”

  His glide continued.

  “But what country am I directly above?” He glanced down into much darker earth. There was no way he could tell. “Jordan, Saudi Arabia, or Iraq? Definitely, not Iran anymore.”

  Suddenly, the ICBM changed its trajectory and began to descend, initiating reentry.

  He focused his attention back down at it. The thought flashed in his mind, “It’s headed for Israel.”

  Just at that moment, from the corner of his eye, he saw a second tiny flame appear in the sky, at about the same area from which the first missile was launched.

  “Great. Now there are two of them. And, if Smiley was right, soon there’s gonna be three.” His heart began to race. But he tried to control himself by saying, “Calm down. What else did Smiley tell ya?”

  He couldn’t think and didn’t answer the question. Both the pace of his heart and the breathing of his lungs quickened. However, he kept himself from panicking by simplifying his thoughts and saying, “Bottom line: Stop the first one.”

  The first missile came closer, approaching with greater velocity.

  He focused on it.

  His heart was pounding.

  Now at a closer distance, his mind could scan the warhead.

  “Got it!” he exclaimed, as he readied himself to transform it.

  Suddenly a vision came, and it distracted him.

  In the blur of the vision, he saw Paige was hurt and in danger.

  Chapter 18

  PRESENT DAY

  TIME REPEATS

  The second missile has just been launched.

  In the air, and still in pursuit of the first missile, the longhaired man, attempts to keep himself from panicking by simplifying his thoughts and saying, “Bottom line: Stop the first one.”

  The first missile comes closer, approaching with greater velocity.

  He focuses on it.

  His heart is pounding.

  Now at a closer distance, his mind can scan the warhead.

  It is typical of those built by states with emerging nuclear weapons. Detonation of the outside explosive material causes the inside plutonium-uranium core to compress and begin the chain reaction of a nuclear explosion.

  “Got it!” he exclaims.

  Suddenly a vision comes, and it distracts him.

  In the blur of the vision, he sees Paige is hurt and in danger.

  But the vision is fleeting. It pushes through his mind so rapidly that it seems like a fast-playing scene with many frames missing. It begins with a view outside a city, dense with many commercial buildings. Quickly, the images zoom in through the walls of one of the buildings and into a room - a hotel room. Then, Paige appears hurt on the floor and someone stands next to her.

  Seeing Paige in trouble triggers a visceral response. If he were to make an emotional choice at this moment, he realizes that many people would perish.

  He shakes his head, and in sheer frustration, he says to himself, “But it’s still possible that Paige may not be in trouble this very moment.”

  It allows him to focus on the missile.

  In a split second, he renders the first missile’s warhead useless. In another instant, he turns its fuel into water, and the tremendous fire blazing out of its tail immediately fades, and then dies.

  But before he can do anything else with the projectile, the vision comes in again. This time he concentrates on it, and his will slows down the images as they come in. Furrowing his brows and squinting his eyes, he has to take great effort to concentrate and discern between what his eyes physically see in front of him and the disruptive images of what his mind sees in the vision.

  The vision ends.

  The sputtering missile begins to freefall. Putting his focus back to it, he transforms all of it into water that then scatters as a mist across the sky.

  The persistent vision comes again.

  Inside the hotel room, he sees Sik sitting cross-legged on the floor. In front of him, Paige lies unconscious with a gash on her forehead. Beside Sik is a coffee table and on top of it is a small glass container of what appears to be ink.

  In Sik’s hand is Paige’s wrist. His homemade tattoo gun comes to a stop, and he lays it on top of the coffee table. Carefully, he sets Paige’s hand to her side. The tattoos are finished.

  Slowly, Sik stands, and then stretches. He steps back, crosses his arms over his chest, and looks down over Paige.

  After a short moment, Sik lifts his head and peers out through a window of the hotel room.

  The vision ends.

  He asks out loud, “Is this happing now?”

  No answer arrives.

  As he speeds and cuts through the air, he feels and knows the threat of
the second missile will soon be more imminent. The tension within him builds to a point at which he almost cannot contain.

  With a flash of twisting light, flurry of winds, and a crackling of electricity something appears high above and behind him. It is the dark entity.

  Staring directly ahead, he notices nothing and continues his descending glide. But feeling the stress of the moment, nervousness and uncertainty add to his angst.

  Suddenly, his sight darkened, as if something thick and black wraps over and completely envelopes him. “What’s happening! Why can’t I see?!” he blurts. Blinded, he starts to panic. His balance is thrown off, his body wobbles, and his limbs begin to flail in their flight. Strangely, his ears hear sounds of hissing.

  But then, as fast as he loses his vision, he somehow regains it. The darkness enclosing him diffuses and fades, peeling away with the passing wind. The hissing sound wanes. Immediately, he sees the space ahead of him once more, but it seems darker than what it used to be. With some relief, he says, “Ok, it’s gone. Whatever it was, it’s gone.” Trying to compose himself, he begins to regain his balance.

  His mind turns back to the vision.

  This time, the compounding effects of his tension, the angst from the imminent danger of the missiles, and the thought of Paige being Sik’s next victim creates within him an enormous frustration. He cannot decide whether to help Paige or to stop the second missile. “Why can’t I figure this out? What’s wrong with me?!” he scolds himself. Quickly, he becomes both annoyed and angered because of his inability to act decisively and to confidently gain control of his circumstances.

  But his next reaction is uncharacteristic: it is an induced exaggeration of what would normally occur. His frustration waxes into rage. Gnashing his teeth, he growls out his anger. With clenching fists and gritting teeth, he decides to save Paige.

  His eyes turn and burn into the horizon,

  In order to justify his decision, he exclaims, “She needs me! I’ll be fast. I’ll be back here again in two seconds!”

  His memory replays the vision to try to figure out where Paige is. As he sees it again, his mind zooms out from within Sik’s room and pans away from the building. First, he sees the top of the hotel, and then further out, he notices the city block containing the building. Finally, his mind zooms out further, and at the edge of his field of vision, he sees the Golden Gate Bridge. Now, he can pinpoint where he needs to go.