by Stuart Jaffe
He had been given an incredible gift. To waste it on personal pleasure would be to spit upon all it could be. Existing in a normal life — that was what he had sought before, and that had been wrong. Most people waste an entire life existing. Not him. He had already done that. If the universe deemed him worthy for this second chance, then he had to do the right thing. Living forever would be meaningless if he didn’t use it to help. That’s what had pushed him this far, and to see it through, that’s what he had to believe in. Because if those that can do something turn a blind eye, then evil triumphs.
The words felt right in his head. The doubts, the desire to run away — that was a remnant of Nathan Flynn talking. This Nathan would be the one who ran into the burning building.
“Also, Larkin pisses me off.”
Nathan tossed his equipment bag over the fence and then climbed up. He moved fast through the woods, following the route he had scouted out the night before. The sun had only been down for a few hours, but the temperature had dropped enough to bring a slight chill to his skin. Typical mountain air.
Hearing footsteps, Nathan pressed up against an oak tree and listened. A single-man patrol with a German Shepard strolled by. Snatching a peek, Nathan saw that the guard was more interested in texting on his phone than checking out the woods. The Shepard knew something was watching from the dark. Its ears perked up and it stuck its nose as far as the leash would allow, trying to sniff every odor Nathan produced.
“What is it, girl?” the guard said, finally glancing up.
Nathan shifted back behind the tree. He slid out the pocketknife. Not the way he wanted to fight a guard with a dog, but he couldn’t afford gunshots yet. Not this far from the house. He crouched low, ready to spring upon the man.
A flashlight played against the trees, and the guard became silent. Nathan could hear the man shuffle from side-to-side as he tried to find anything to ease his mind.
“Come on, girl. Quit it. You’re smelling an owl or something. Let’s go. My feet are cold.”
Nathan counted to fifty before moving again. He closed the knife and hoofed his way deeper into the property. When he reached the electric fence surrounding the pasture, he brought out his binoculars. A quick scan of the open land revealed no patrols.
Nathan got on his stomach and rolled under the charged wires. Then he sprinted across the field — just because there were no patrols did not mean there would never be any. When he reached the stable, he cut straight down the middle. The lights were off but his cell phone’s flashlight app provided enough to avoid tripping on a pitchfork, a stool, or the stack of horse blankets at the end. The horses chose to ignore him.
Minutes later he squatted in a row of pines facing the large house. Using his binoculars, he scanned the area. Four guards on the roof again, two down below at the main entrance, all as before. Through the tall, upstairs windows, he spied Crystal sitting on a king-sized bed. She had a laptop opened at her side and from the direction of her gaze, she appeared to be watching television.
Searching the other windows, Nathan eventually found Russo on the opposite side of the house on the first floor. He sat at a desk with a single lamp shining on a stack of papers. The glow from his computer screen provided the only other light.
Tough call. Nathan could hold off until they went to sleep, sneak in, and hope to extract Crystal without rousing Russo. Or, he could sneak in right now, before anybody expected such a thing, and get Crystal out of there while Russo was buried in his papers. Either way meant slipping by the guards and entering through the second-floor balcony. Regardless of when he went, that maneuver promised to be high risk and highly difficult.
He decided to recount the guards. As he scanned across the grounds, he spotted a dark figure in the woods opposite him. The figure moved slowly, oscillating like a fan, until it faced him. It stopped. He held still, too.
A hand rose and moved back and forth — a wave? Not a friendly, enthusiastic wave, though. Rather, a wave of acknowledgment.
Octavia.
She was scanning the grounds, counting guards, doing all the things she had taught him to do. But then she did something he had yet to do — she decided to act. Bolting into the dark, she left his view. Seconds later, he saw an object sail from her end of the woods. As it tumbled overhead, he had a strong idea of what it was — a grenade.
Nathan dropped to the ground and covered his head.
Chapter Twenty-Two
In his former life as Nathan Flynn, he had never served in the military, had never been in a war zone. It seemed fitting to him that his first full night as Nathan became a baptism under fire. Octavia’s grenade sent a bright flash through the night and smoke clouded around the trees. The bang came behind the flash.
More than half the guards hustled in Nathan’s direction, shouting commands or asking questions. A few remained at their posts. Those individuals lost their lives first. It required little imagination for Nathan to picture Octavia slitting the throats of the guards in her way. They would never have the chance to fight back or even warn the rest that the grenade was a diversion.
As the confusion settled down — one voice with a heavy Boston accent rose up and took charge — Nathan crawled under the trees and through the brush, trying to create some distance. Boston ordered several men to line up with their assault rifles pointing into the trees. Nathan hurried toward a wide, flat boulder. He bowled over the side and buried his face in the dirt as the men opened fire.
The noise alone would have caused most soldiers to wet themselves. But Nathan felt the most shock through the ground. Ten rifles rattling bullet after bullet sent vibrations through the dirt, rocks, and roots, straight up through Nathan’s bones.
“Hold fire!” Boston’s command echoed around Nathan’s ringing ears. “Let ‘em loose.”
At first, Nathan thought Boston had ordered a different type of weapon to open up — maybe a machine gun. Then he heard the snarling and the barking, and he knew any chance of hiding was over. He could hear at least two dogs which was one too many. At least he had the night and the smoke from the grenade to help conceal him. But the smoke would not last long, and soon enough, Boston would order in some light.
Nathan dug into his bag. He pulled out a half-pound of raw, ground beef. He knew he should have bought more, but he had too little cash to invest and during his recon, he had only seen one dog. From the growing noise, it appeared that Russo kept a full kennel of the beasts.
Nathan tossed the meat far off in Octavia’s direction and scurried in the opposite. He hoped that would buy him a chance. By the time he had worked his way around to the side of the house, he heard the dogs closing in behind him.
“Sorry about this,” he said, pulling out his MP.
He lowered to one knee and held the weapon in a standard, two-handed grip — right hand high, holding the weapon to fire, left palm pressed in tight against the side of the grip to steady the weapon. When the dog came charging through the woods, Nathan waited until he couldn’t miss, then took the animal down in one shot.
The world exploded around him. Gunfire erupted and disorderly shouting followed. Nathan hunkered behind a tree while bullets pierced every piece of wood and earth surrounding him. Shots fired in other directions, too. They had no clue where their enemy was nor how many they faced. The dogs they had released only confused matters worse as they scrambled around making noise and movement that attracted the trigger-happy and nervous men.
Nathan holstered his MP and brought out Maggie. Once Russo’s men eased off the gunfire, Nathan peeked around the tree trunk protecting him and aimed for the nearest guard. He pulled the trigger once.
Blood burst out of the man’s back as he crumpled to the ground. Maggie kicked harder than Nathan had expected. Staying low, he dashed from tree to tree while his enemies shot up those behind him.
Boston yelled for a cease fire. The dog runners whistled their charges back in and leashed them up. Another man rushed over to Boston.
&nbs
p; Boston nodded and said, “Listen up. There’s two of these bastards. Samson and Richards come with me. The rest of you find the guy who killed Brummer.” As he jogged off, he added, “And don’t let him get in the house. Do that, and we’re all fired.”
While Boston gave his orders, Nathan aimed Maggie at a man staring into the woods. Staring straight at him. If not for the night, he would have spotted Nathan instantly. But Nathan had the night, and he had Maggie. Another pull of the trigger; another soul drifting away.
“I got him. This way,” one of the guards called out and led a charge forty yards to Nathan’s left.
Only two men remained behind. Before Nathan could reposition, he heard snapping bones and a strange, guttural noise coming from near the house. Brummer and the other guard Nathan had killed rose up, their bones reforming in slow, painful clicks. The two men who stayed behind shared one quick look before they bolted into the woods.
It couldn’t be. Larkin had said that the immortal bodies were rare. That was one of the main reasons he wanted to control Nathan. Of course, Larkin could have lied, but Nathan didn’t think so.
Brummer stumbled toward the other guard as if his legs did not want to work properly. The other guard lifted his rifle, but his muscles moved in an odd, limp manner. Whatever was going on here, Nathan felt confident that these two were not immortals. They did not appear too capable, either. Since the rest of the squad had gone in the wrong direction, Nathan had to move now or lose his chance to get inside the house.
Four feet to his right, Nathan spotted a thick tree limb on the ground. He snatched it up as he darted toward the house. Holding the limb like a baseball bat, he swiped the legs of the two befuddled guards. They toppled over and had trouble getting back up. The hole in Brummer’s back stained the ground.
As Nathan continued onward, he wondered how such a thing was possible. But then a year ago he would have scoffed at the idea of immortal beings. If one could be possible, why not the other? And yet, the idea of the undead (he couldn’t bring himself to think the Z-word) just seemed too far-fetched.
Whatever they were, he had passed by without having to fire a shot. Limited ammunition made that important. Plus, gunfire would only serve to bring back the idiots traipsing through the woods in their search for him.
Nathan zipped over to the back door of the house. Locked. He knew the basics of lock-picking, but a glance through the door’s glass confirmed that the bolt would take too long to open. More for his future training list — learn to fly a helicopter, learn to figure out location while hooded, learn to pick locks better. He searched the immediate area for a sizable rock, found a good candidate, and used it to smash open the door’s windowpane. Then he reached through and unlocked it from the inside.
He entered an immaculate kitchen — white tile gleaming from the outside lights, steel pots and pans hanging artistically from a ceiling rack, double-wide fridge, black marble floor, and a wide, island counter. Crouching behind the counter, he slipped up toward a swinging door. With all the commotion, Crystal would have remained in her room with the door locked. At least, Nathan hoped that was what she had done. He did not relish the idea of touring the house searching for her.
Gunfire rattled off in the distance. Based on the direction of the sound, Nathan suspected Octavia had made her presence known. That meant he had less time to get upstairs.
A dark-haired man pushed through the swinging door, leading with his Glock. Nathan knew better than to let this guard get any sense of the situation. With well-trained speed, Nathan landed three distinct strikes — a finger-jab to the kidneys, a hit to the wrist, and an elbow-strike to the nose. The guard fell back, his weapon dropping away, and hit his head on the marble floor. His eyes closed.
Nathan grabbed the man under the arms and dragged him back behind the counter. Pressing his fingers on the man’s neck, Nathan found a pulse. He pulled out his pocketknife, and with his free hand, he opened the man’s eyes. He did not feel bad about this killing at all. After all, if given the chance, this man would have had no problems killing Nathan. And Nathan needed a second soul.
He placed the knife against the thick artery along the neck — or was it a vein? Yet more to add to his list of things to learn. He never got the chance to kill the man.
“Hands up,” a voice said from behind.
Nathan raised his hands and stood.
“Drop the knife, drop the guns, and turn around slowly.”
Nathan complied.
The guard had a light crew cut, a barrel chest, a square jaw, and he wore a simple, dark suit — perfect look for a bodyguard. He held a snub-nosed revolver firmly. Not a hint of a waiver.
“You haven’t shot me yet,” Nathan said. “So what do you want?”
“We don’t kill our own kind.”
Nathan glanced down at the unconscious man. “He’s not an immortal. Is he?”
“No. But I am.”
“In that case, would you mind if I took this guy’s soul? I’ve only got one at the moment.”
“You move and I’ll put a bullet in you.”
“I thought you didn’t kill our kind.”
“You’ll live. And if you don’t, there’re plenty of souls here to take your body. A lot of people would have no problems with becoming immortal.”
“Ah, you mean no problems like me.” Nathan circled the man with the gun. “I didn’t realize the immortal community would gossip so fast.”
“One of our own rejects us and risks all of our lives by running off. You didn’t think we’d warn each other?”
Nathan kept moving, and he kept living. This man would not shoot him — not unless he had no choice or if Nathan made the stupid decision to attack. But stupid or not, he couldn’t circle around forever, just waiting for somebody else to make a move.
Nathan stopped when he was within arm’s length of the man. “You got a name? I figure I should start learning all the names of us since —”
“Shut up.” The man lifted his cuff to his mouth. “This is Danner. I’m in the kitchen. I got him.”
In the moment that Danner’s attention dropped to his cuff, Nathan leaped forward. His first move was a matter of protection. He smashed his arm upward, catching Danner’s wrist and deflecting the revolver upward. Danner shot and the bullet lodged into the ceiling. His second move was a matter of survival. He locked the fingers of one hand around Danner’s throat while the other hand attempted to gain control of the weapon.
Another guard, this one wearing an odd red tie, banged through the swinging door. Nathan let go of Danner’s throat with a sharp pull and jammed his elbow into Danner’s gut. As the immortal’s grip slackened, Nathan took control of the revolver and shot the red tie.
Nathan wanted to dash across the kitchen and catch Red Tie’s soul but that meant leaving Danner which could not end well. As the mist rose from Red Tie, Nathan pointed the gun at Danner and pulled the trigger.
The man’s second soul released into the air, and Nathan shoved his face into the mist. He kept his eyes wide and moved through the mist twice. But the soul continued on upward. He watched it disappear into the ceiling. He never heard the shot that buried into his shoulder.
At first, he thought he had been punched from behind. Then the intense burning sent raging signals into his brain. Moving purely on instinct, he dropped to the floor and rolled to his back, grabbing Maggie on the way over. No need to aim. The guy who shot him was huge.
Maggie put a hole through the man’s neck. He had been aiming for his wide chest, but the neck worked fine. As the large body dropped, Nathan picked up the other weapons, including Red Tie’s and No-Neck’s handguns. He walked over to Danner and thumped Maggie on the immortal’s temple.
He checked his shoulder — couldn’t be too bad, his arm still worked. It hurt a little, but he knew that the real pain would come later, when the adrenaline wore off. For now, he had to hope nothing worse happened.
He put Maggie and the MP away. With the Glock in one hand
and the revolver in the other, he paused at the swinging door. Octavia’s training had served him, all those repetitive days adding up to fast-moving muscle memory, but that didn’t make him invincible — especially without a second soul. No. He couldn’t start thinking that way. If he became too cautious, if he second-guessed his choices, he would end up dead.
Not bothering with a three-count, Nathan kicked open the door. He walked into a dining room filled with fine china settings and crystal chandeliers. Two men approached from the other side. Both were startled by Nathan’s sudden appearance, and that was their mistake. Two easy shots put them down.
Without breaking his pace, he crossed the dining room and entered a hall with several open doors. He stopped at each one, swung in, found them empty, and moved on. At the end of the hall, on the left, was the main entrance with a long staircase winding up to the second-floor. A wood railing kept the second-floor hall open to view. Four men opened fire through the railing.
Nathan ducked back and noticed the dining room doors opening. One of the dead guards shambled through. Automatic fire rippled from deeper in the house. Shouts followed and when Nathan peeked back at the stairs, two of the men had hurried off to face Octavia.
No hesitation, he reminded himself and launched into an offensive. With bullets blazing, he climbed straight up the stairs. The railing spit wood in all directions as he unloaded and the two guards had no choice but to scatter. Dropping the weapons he had taken off the bodies in the kitchen, Nathan pulled out Maggie and stepped onto the second floor.
The air had warmed with all the bodies and battle. The sharp stench of gunfire fouled every breath. Nathan stepped left toward Crystal’s bedroom.
One of the guards had tripped in his desperate scramble to get away. Instead of his semi-automatic, he pulled out a cell phone and held it out like a weapon. He unraveled as Nathan approached, blubbering nonsense words and still holding the phone as if it could shoot.
Nathan leaned over the man, gripped him by the jaw, and said, “Look into my eyes.” The terrified guard obeyed. Nathan shot the man’s heart into pieces and acquired his soul.