by Alex Siegel
The experience was very different this time. Instead of being a helpless prisoner, she was the aggressor. She left dead bodies in her wake, and her enemy couldn't stop her. She was truly a legionnaire of the Gray Spear Society.
She crept to the end of the hallway. The commander was in his office with several other soldiers. She backed off and slipped into an adjacent room. She huddled behind a chair in the darkness. There was nothing to do but wait.
After several minutes, she heard distant yelling. It sounded like the bodies in the tool shop had been discovered. She smiled. A moment later, there were footsteps in the hallway, and she watched through the glass door. The commander and his men were going to investigate.
She waited until it was quiet again, and then she stuck her head into the hallway. The commander's office was empty now. She went inside, closed the door silently, and pressed a button on the knob to lock it.
Sheryl ran to the phone. She picked it up and heard a dial tone, probably the most delightful sound she had ever heard in her life. She punched in Aaron's phone number.
"Hello?" he said cautiously. "Who is this?"
"Sheryl. I'm alive."
"Thank God! I was so worried."
"Listen, sir," she said urgently. "I'm in a big, white factory. They make bedding here. Empty fields all around. It might be called Cloud of Silk Bedding Supply."
"Armed guards out front? Two fences with barbed wire?"
"That's right!"
"We're looking at you right now," he said.
Her sense of relief was so great she almost cried. "They have a laboratory here. They're collecting blood from people infected with the disease and feeding it to tiny bugs. It's horrible."
"Bed bugs. We know about them. What happened to you?"
"They captured me and brought me here," she said, "but I escaped right away. I've been sneaking around the factory ever since. Oh! I got a gift!"
"That's wonderful. Did you kill any of the enemy?"
"I don't have an exact count. Maybe fifteen. I've been cutting a lot of throats lately."
He paused. "I've never been prouder of you." She could hear the emotion in his voice.
"Thank you, sir."
"Your rescue team is here. Just stay safe and out of sight. Getting to you may take a while."
"I'm disguised as a soldier with brown skin," she said, "so be careful who you shoot."
"Understood."
Sheryl heard somebody rattle the locked doorknob. "Got to go!" She hung up the phone.
She looked around for an escape. The office had two large windows which swung out. She ran over for a closer look. There was a metal awning underneath the windows, and she could jump down safely if she wanted.
The office also had a coat closet. That's an even better idea, she thought.
She unlatched a window and tried to open it, but it was frozen shut. She used her shoulder and put her weight behind it. After a couple of hard hits, the window gave way and swung out.
She immediately turned around and went to the closet. It contained some heavy winter coats and boots. She closed the door.
She heard a crash as somebody busted open the locked door of the office.
A man yelled, "She used the window! She's outside! Alert the patrols!" She recognized the commander's voice from last night.
Sheryl smiled. This was getting fun. Knowing that Aaron was nearby made it even more enjoyable. She would be rescued within hours. She crouched behind the coats and boots in case somebody checked the closet.
The commander spoke again, "What the hell is going on? How hard can it be to stop one fucking woman? She was in my office! Apparently, she comes and goes as she pleases. Am I going to find her in my bunk next?"
"We're doing our best, sir," another man murmured.
"Your best is embarrassing."
"Yes, sir." There was a pause. "By the way, when are we getting paid? The men keep asking. It's been a long, dangerous assignment."
"Our employer told me tomorrow, and then we're leaving. The job is done. Let's see if we can survive one more night in this place. I know it will be difficult when we're under attack by an army consisting of one, single, solitary woman. Ridiculous."
If you think I'm a pain, Sheryl thought, wait 'til you meet my boss.
Nobody spoke after that. She remained perfectly still and silent.
* * *
Aaron clipped his phone to his utility belt.
"That was Sheryl?" Norbert said excitedly. "How is she?"
"Fine. Better than fine. She's kicking their asses, and she got a gift. We can all be proud of her."
Tawni nodded as if she knew it all along. Norbert smiled, but there was wistfulness in his expression.
"What's wrong?" Aaron said.
"It's just that I'm the last one without a gift. Tawni and Sheryl were recruited after me. It's not quite fair."
"You'll get your turn."
"I'm sure that's true, sir," Norbert said. "Wesley told me so the last time he was in Chicago. I'm just getting a little tired of waiting. I've trained hard. I've done everything I was asked to do and more. I don't understand why God is holding back."
"Maybe He feels you don't need it. You're doing a fine job with your natural abilities. I'm told most legionnaires never get a gift. Historically, there were cells where even the commander didn't have one. Ours is very unusual."
They were trudging through the heavy snow back to the factory. Aaron was wearing snow boots with the tops tied tightly, but a little snow had still managed to dampen his socks. He was cold, hungry, and weary. He was more than ready for the action to begin.
Lights in the distance showed him the location of the factory. He estimated it was about a half-mile away.
"We're close enough," he announced. "Let's send out the invitations to the party."
The team stopped marching and took flare guns from their utility belts. The guns were made of orange plastic and had a very wide barrel. Each came with six flares in a separate clip.
"Watch," Aaron said.
He popped a flare off his clip, loaded it into the breach of the gun, and fired upwards. The flare went about two hundred feet in the air. It burned fiercely with a red light for five seconds.
"Now shoot yours," he said.
Norbert and Tawni smiled like kids as they fired off their flares. Everybody worked through their clips. The ammunition was quickly depleted, and they dropped the guns in the snow afterwards.
"Now we wait for the guests to arrive," Aaron said. "You two stick together and follow the plan I gave you. Snatch one mercenary and don't touch the others. I'll meet you at the barn. I'm going solo."
"Yes, sir," Norbert and Tawni said in unison.
Aaron walked off alone, whistling a cheerful tune. Now that he knew Sheryl was safe, he could enjoy what promised to be a fun night.
* * *
Commander Hess was half-asleep at his desk when a squad leader ran into his office. Hess straightened up immediately. He wasn't allowing any of his men to sleep until the woman was caught, and he didn't want to look like a hypocrite.
"Sir! Somebody is firing flares to the east of here."
"Flares?" Hess raised his eyebrows.
"Signal flares."
Hess scratched the stubble on his chin. He didn't know what to make of this news.
"Should we investigate?" the squad leader said.
"I suppose we have to. It may be a prelude to some kind of attack. Send out three squads. Tell them to be careful. Very careful."
"Yes, sir." The squad leader saluted and walked off.
Hess went over to the window and looked out. The area around the factory was well lit, but murky darkness lay beyond. A sliver of a moon was hidden behind a hazy layer of clouds.
What's going on out there? he wondered.
* * *
Sheryl smiled in the closet. It begins, she thought.
* * *
Tawni watched the snowy fields through her night vision goggles. E
lectronic light amplification made the snow appear green and sparkly. It was so beautiful she could almost forget the bitter cold.
A line of mercenaries was moving slowly towards her. They were spaced at wide intervals, but they could still see each other. They were all marching forward at exactly the same pace.
Tawni and Norbert had covered their bodies with snow, so only the tops of their heads were exposed, and white hoods covered their heads. Unless a mercenary stumbled directly into them, the legionnaires wouldn't be seen.
Tawni watched her enemy with narrow eyes. She was itching to kill them all. She had suppressors on her guns and could probably snipe half a dozen before they realized what was happening. Then it would just be a matter of picking off the survivors. The night was her playground, and she was eager to play. With Norbert at her side, she didn't see how they could fail.
Unfortunately, Aaron's orders were specific. She had learned it was best to just do as she was told. Disobeying a commander was suicide, and in this case, the rules of engagement had come from the legate herself.
The line of mercenaries swept past Tawni and Norbert without stopping. The legionnaires looked like mere bumps in the snow, and they remained perfectly still.
When the mercenaries were well past, Tawni pressed a trigger in her hand. Small charges began to explode to the east in the direction the mercenaries were facing. The fireworks were set to detonate at random intervals over a period of five minutes. They looked and sounded like loud gunfire.
The mercenaries immediately dropped to their bellies and stared into the darkness ahead. Some returned fire, and Tawni wondered what they were shooting at. Nobody was out there. Men yelled useless warnings to each other.
Tawni climbed out of the snow with her sword in hand. Norbert was one pace behind her. She went to the nearest mercenary and tapped him on the shoulder. The man turned around with a very surprised expression. She used her black sword to cut his rifle in half before he got any ideas. She lopped off part of his trigger finger at the same time.
Norbert used a spray can to shoot sticky foam into the mercenary's face. Tawni held her breath so she wouldn't breathe the fumes. The mercenary coughed a few times, tried to wipe the foam off, and passed out.
Norbert scooped up the body. He and Tawni trotted off into the night. The rest of the mercenaries continued to fight a meaningless battle against a phantom enemy.
* * *
"Play the video again," General Walker said. "Slow it down this time."
The big screen in the command bunker was showing fresh surveillance footage from the engagement between Unit K and the Gray Spear Society. The sequence showed a woman with a black sword cutting a rifle cleanly in half. Her weapon seemed to pass through steel as if it were soft butter.
Her companion then knocked out their opponent with some kind of fast-acting anesthetic foam. The big man snatched the unconscious body, laden with armor and weapons, as if it weighed almost nothing. The entire abduction took only five seconds.
"Impossible," Walker said.
"I told you they have unnatural abilities," Erika said.
He faced her. She was sitting on a tall, velvet chair in her enclosure like a queen on a throne. The broken corpse of one of her male slaves was lying on the ground in front of her. The man had displeased her, so she had ordered her other slaves to beat him to death. Erika always had constant turnover in her personal staff. She was displeased often.
"Yes," Walker said, "but to be honest, I didn't quite believe you."
"I received my ability to emit pheromones from our benefactors. In the same way, the Great Adversary helps the Gray Spear Society. I've heard tales of a man who could fly and another who could burrow under the ground. There was supposedly a woman who could sing loud enough to kill. This is why they're so dangerous. You can never be sure of their capabilities."
Walker turned back to the big screen. It now showed the third member of the Spears team. The man was by himself, and he had a sniper rifle. Walker was very curious to see what he would do next.
* * *
Aaron was lying behind a fallen tree in the snow. His sniper rifle was propped up on the trunk, and he was watching the enemy through the scope. Thermal imaging showed them as a line of ten red blobs against a cold background. They were moving cautiously and in good order. Aaron guessed they were spaced about twenty meters apart. The distance allowed them to cover a lot of ground while still letting them support each other in a fight.
He could easily kill them all. His M110 had vastly more range and accuracy than the clumsy assault rifles the mercenaries were carrying. Those guns were designed for the close quarters of urban combat. The flat, open fields of central Illinois were sniper country, and nobody was a better sniper than Aaron. The large suppressor on his rifle would keep muzzle flash and noise to a minimum.
He remembered something Ethel had told him after his initiation ceremony so long ago. "They will dance to your drum beat," she had said, "and they will dance to their death." Somehow she had known what kind of commander he would be even then.
Aaron waited until the enemy was completely exposed in the middle of a field. Time to dance, he thought. He aimed at the man on the far left but intentionally missed just to the right. He was shooting rounds with explosive tips, so they would make a nice pop on impact. The hypersonic passage of the bullet through the air was a subtler noise, but it was still unmistakable to a veteran soldier. The mercenary dropped to the snow and looked around. He had no idea where the bullet had come from.
He started yelling warnings, and his comrades also got down. Their voices carried well through the silent, winter night. Aaron couldn't quite make out the words, but the tone conveyed fear. There was nothing more terrifying than a hidden sniper on a dark night.
Aaron fired at the ground near the second mercenary in the line. The shot missed by mere inches, and the explosive impact made him jump as if he had been shocked. He moved about ten meters to Aaron's right before settling down again.
The first mercenary started moving backwards. Aaron placed a bullet behind him to discourage him from trying to escape.
With a series of shots, Aaron forced the man on the left to move further and further away from the others. Aaron felt like a lion separating a weak animal from the herd. The other nine mercenaries grouped together for mutual protection even though it did no good. They occasionally fired their weapons, but the bullets had no chance of hitting Aaron at this range, especially when they weren't even shooting in the right direction.
Aaron worked through three clips of bullets. When he shoved in his last clip, he decided it was time to stop playing with his toys and move in.
He slung the rifle over his back and lowered his night vision goggles. These used visible light amplification instead of thermal imaging, so they weren't nearly as effective at picking out warm bodies, but he knew where the enemy was.
Aaron scurried across the fields as quickly as he dared. He never let his head get more than two feet above the surface of the snow.
He passed a half-buried fence post, and something caught his eye. A small surveillance camera was mounted on top. It was a strange thing to find in a farmer's field, but maybe the farmer was paranoid about security. Aaron was an expert on surveillance equipment, and this model looked expensive. He couldn't imagine it belonged to the mercenaries. They were too far from the factory. The camera had to belong to a farmer.
Aaron didn't like being watched. He yanked out the cord and moved on.
His chosen victim had buried himself in the snow and was shaking with fear. His head swiveled back and forth as he searched for the sniper. He was too far from his friends to expect any kind of help.
Aaron approached the mercenary from behind in total silence. When Aaron was about fifteen feet away, he began spitting. He struck the assault rifle first, and a glob of sticky, yellow liquid burned through the firing chamber. The mercenary squawked in surprise and dropped the gun. Aaron then destroyed a pistol in a hols
ter and a combat knife. He craned his neck to make sure he hadn't missed any weapons. It appeared the mercenary had a backup piece on his ankle, so Aaron wrecked that too.
He took his MP9's from their holsters and held one in each hand. He straightened up. "Ahem."
The mercenary spun around. He desperately flailed for a functional weapon and quickly realized he was unarmed. Finally, he stood with his hands in the air.
Aaron walked over and used handcuffs to bind the mercenary's wrists behind his back.
"See that barn over there?" Aaron nodded towards the barn in the distance. "That's where we're going. March."
The mercenary hesitated.
"I could knock you out and carry you," Aaron said. "I don't mind. I'm very strong. I just thought it would be a little easier for both of us if you walked under your own power."
The mercenary started walking with slumped shoulders. His footsteps were heavy in the snow.
"What's your name?" Aaron said.
"Otmar. How did you destroy my guns?"
Otmar was just over six feet tall and well built. A helmet covered most of his head, but puffs of black hair poked out. His face was very pale, but perhaps that was just the light. A white, camouflage cloak hung from his shoulders.
"Secret weapon," Aaron said.
"Are you the sniper?"
"Yes."
"You kept missing me," Otmar said.
"I hit my spots every time. I didn't want to injure you... yet. Move quicker. It's cold out here."
* * *
General Walker was flabbergasted. The third Spear had begun his attack with a shooting demonstration that would've made an Olympic marksman green with envy. He had actually herded his opposition like they were sheep from five hundred meters away.
The spitting trick had been even more astonishing. Walker watched the replay over and over on the big screen in the command bunker. The mysterious man seemed to have the ability to shoot extremely corrosive acid from his mouth.
Walker had wondered how the Five Corners of Freedom had lost so badly back in September. Now he was starting to appreciate why. They had faced an enemy who could literally perform impossible feats.