by Alex Siegel
Aaron faced his fourth opponent. The cannibal rushed forward, and Aaron slipped around behind him. Aaron grabbed his shoulders and kicked his back hard enough to break it. Then Aaron crushed the man's neck with a vicious stomp.
The two survivors had recovered and launched themselves at Aaron. He grabbed their skulls and smashed them together with enough force to make brains squirt out. The bodies dropped to the floor with a metallic thud.
Aaron faced Hess. Hess just stared back.
A mercenary ran into the loading dock and yelled, "Sir! We're under attack!"
"From which direction?" Hess said.
"All directions!"
Hess glared at Aaron. "Who is out there?"
"You've heard of Delta Force?" Aaron smirked. "You're about to meet them."
Hess paled.
He yelled orders at his men. He sent squads in different directions in a desperate effort to assemble a defense. Aaron wasn't impressed. The outcome of this battle was already certain.
He heard automatic gunfire outside the factory. It sounded like a real war was being fought out there. The FBI was down the road waiting to haul prisoners away, but Aaron didn't think there would be many left alive.
Hess remained in the loading dock, and he kept ten mercenaries around him in a protective formation. Sheryl was still lurking in the back of the room. Every few seconds, she peeked out from behind a support pillar. My ace in the hole, Aaron thought.
"My offer still stands," he said. "If you surrender to me and cooperate fully, I might keep you around for a while. Otherwise..." He slashed his throat with his finger. "This is your last chance."
"If I surrender, it certainly won't be to you," Hess said. "I have my pride. Kill him."
He moved back. Three mercenaries came forward with their assault rifles aimed at Aaron's chest.
Sheryl stepped into the open, drew a pistol, and put a bullet into the back of one of their heads. The shot made Aaron well up with joy. Her technique was perfect. The hundreds of hours they had spent together in the shooting range had finally paid off. She immediately ducked behind a pillar.
"It's that damn woman!" Hess yelled. "Get her!"
All the mercenaries charged in her direction.
Aaron spat at the bars of his cage. While the acid was eating away the iron, he looked in Sheryl's direction and saw something very confusing. The pillars in the loading dock formed a regular grid. A mirror had appeared between two pillars, but the reflection matched the grid pattern, so at first glance he didn't even see the mirror. It was a clever optical illusion.
A few seconds later, the mirror vanished and reappeared between another two pillars. Sheryl was nowhere in sight. Aaron now understood her gift. She can make mirrors and use them as cover.
The mercenaries arrived at her original location and looked around in confusion.
Two bars on Aaron's cage broke off. He squeezed through the gap. Meanwhile, Sheryl was making a wide circuit of the room. Her footsteps were silent as was proper for a legionnaire. He couldn't see her, but he could track her position by observing where mirrors were appearing and disappearing. She was quick. Her ability to place mirrors exactly where she needed them showed her training as a magician. The gift was well suited for her.
Aaron took an assault rifle from the dead body on the floor, aimed at the mercenaries, and pulled the trigger. The weapon belched out all its bullets in under a second and had wicked recoil. He managed to kill four men before the clip ran dry.
The dead body also had a pistol in a holster. Aaron threw away the assault rifle, grabbed the pistol, and dived behind a pillar. A rain of bullets made broken bits of concrete fly all around him.
He tracked Sheryl's progress through the room. She was circling around to meet up with him. He mentally estimated her position.
At precisely the right moment, he jumped up, ran through a mirror, and grabbed her with his arms. It was quicker and safer than telling her to follow him. He held her like a child as he continued running at full speed. More bullets flew in his direction, but it was clear the mercenaries were just guessing at his location. Sheryl returned fire over Aaron's shoulder with her pistol.
He felt pain in his thigh. He had been hit, but he didn't slow down.
They escaped from the loading dock without further injury. Aaron found himself in a wide hallway with several doors.
"That way, sir!" Sheryl pointed at a door at the end. "I know this place!"
He put her down so she could lead the way. She sprinted to the door, threw it open, and went inside. He followed at a slower pace because of his painful wound. He entered a large closet full of janitorial supplies.
She grabbed a big bottle of clear hand sanitizer from a shelf. She threw it onto the floor, and the bottle burst. Sanitizer sprayed into the hallway.
Aaron smiled. I get it. Nicely done.
He stood on one side of the door with his pistol ready. Sheryl stood on the other side with her own gun.
A man in the hallway yelled, "Follow the blood!"
Aaron looked down at his leg. Blood was oozing into his shoe and onto the floor. The wound wouldn't kill him anytime soon, but it needed attention.
He heard pounding footsteps getting closer. There was a sudden yell of surprise. Mercenaries slipped on the hand sanitizer and crashed into each other. Some slid into the closet, while the rest piled up at the doorway. Aaron and Sheryl calmly shot all of them in the head.
He checked the bodies to make sure they were dead. Then he looked into the hallway but saw nobody else.
"You're hurt!" Sheryl said.
She hurried over, taking care not to slip on the soapy, bloody floor. Her gift had turned her pupils into tiny mirrors, and the effect was eerie.
Aaron used his hand to apply pressure to the wound. The pain was starting to get bad as his adrenalin rush faded. "I'll survive. Smythe will heal me."
"He's here?"
"The whole team is here along with Delta Force and the FBI. The President didn't mess around."
She raised her eyebrows. "Isn't using outsiders against the rules, sir?"
"The legate got special permission from the Almighty."
"Oh. Cool." She looked at the pile of corpses. "Crap. Hess isn't here. I think he got away."
"He won't get far, and if he's really stupid, he'll try to escape by car. Tawni is guarding the road." He grinned. "I'm so proud of you." He put his free arm around her and gave her a hug. "You're becoming everything I hoped for."
"A stone-cold killer?"
"Clever, quick, brave, resourceful, and yes, a stone-cold killer. Wesley was very wise when he picked you out for me. If you ever meet him again, make sure to thank him."
* * *
Hess heard constant gunfire, and it was getting louder. His feet pounded on concrete as he ran through the factory. He needed to escape. Getting paid was now the least of his concerns. Unit K was finished, and if he didn't get away, he would be finished too.
His first stop was his office. He needed his winter coat, ski mask, and boots before he went outside. He ran up a flight of stairs, sprinted down a hallway, and burst through a door.
His desk drawers were open, and the furniture had been disturbed. The woman was here again, he thought.
Hess saw muzzle flashes through the windows. He ran over for a look outside. A full-scale gun battle was taking place between the men patrolling the factory grounds and unseen adversaries in the darkness. His men were getting cut down, and even the dogs were being shot. It was going to be a short fight.
Hess opened the closet and started putting on his winter gear. The gunfire outside was already slowing down and coming from a different direction. Delta Force was moving fast.
After he zipped up his coat, he checked the window again. Teams were breaching the fence in several locations. All the Unit K patrols were dead.
"Fuck!" he yelled.
Leaving on foot wasn't an option anymore. He would almost certainly run into a fight, and he didn't like h
is chances against a squad of Delta Force operatives.
He remembered the armored truck they had used to transport the woman from the chocolate shop. It was still parked on the factory floor. He had ordered his men to leave the keys in the ignition so they wouldn't get lost.
He ran out of his office, down the stairs, and across the warehouse section. The red and white armored truck was in the right spot.
Six men wearing all-white clothing and masks entered through a door on the far side of the huge room. They weren't members of Unit K.
Hess sat in the armored truck. Seeing the keys in the ignition was the happiest sight of his life. He started the engine and locked the doors.
The soldiers in white started running towards him.
He floored the accelerator and took off. The heavy armor made the vehicle handle sluggishly, but he was glad for the protection when bullets started bouncing off.
He aimed for the nearest doorway that would take him outside. The door was closed and too narrow for the wide truck, but that didn't matter. He smashed through and sent broken cinderblocks flying.
He made a turn. More people were shooting at him, and the bullets made plinking noises when they hit the armor. Glass chips were flying off the windows. He accelerated towards the front gate. Fortunately, it appeared that Delta Force had no vehicles. If he could just get away from the factory, he had a good chance of escaping entirely.
He floored the gas pedal, and the engine whined. There was some fresh snow on the dirt, so he steered gently to avoid losing control.
Some soldiers tried to stand and shoot at Hess, but when it became clear he wouldn't stop, they dived out of the way. He flew through the front gate at top speed, bouncing on the uneven pavement.
The front windows were so chipped from bullets, they were hard to see through. He squinted and did the best job he could. He turned on the headlights and discovered only one light was still working.
The sounds of battle faded behind him. It looked like he might make it out alive. He allowed himself to smile a little. He had plenty of gold stashed away. From now on, he would live a quiet, comfortable, and very private life. Bermuda sounded like a good place to settle down. He might even find a wife.
A dark figure was standing on the road ahead. It was a black woman carrying a black sword. Hess kept the accelerator flat on the floor. If she didn't get out of the way, she would get run over, but she looked like she intended to attack him instead. He didn't understand. What good was a sword against an armored truck travelling at top speed?
She stepped aside at the last instant and slashed the truck. He expected her sword would just bounce off, but instead, he heard the scream of shearing metal. Suddenly, he lost control of the steering. The truck veered wildly, spun, and rolled onto its side. Hess was stunned.
When he recovered his wits, he saw the woman approaching on foot. The factory lights in the background made her a black silhouette. It looked like her sword was smoking, but it was probably just her breath creating fog.
He fumbled around for a weapon. He still had a pistol in a holster, and he drew it. With shaking hands, he loaded a round into the chamber.
Hess shifted around in his seat. To escape from the truck, he would have to lift the passenger's door which was now on top. He pushed against it, but the angle was awkward, and the armored door was very heavy. After a couple of tries, he stopped to rest. He was still feeling disoriented from the crash.
The woman was now close enough to see clearly. A combat helmet covered wavy, black hair. She wore black and gray body armor under a white cape. Her skin was so dark, it looked like black ink. Her black sword was actually smoking. The look in her eyes was frightening. Supernatural creatures of darkness and death, Hess thought.
She slashed the front of the truck, and a huge chunk of armor and engine fell off. The working headlight died. He was convinced he was having a nightmare. Maybe the accident had knocked him unconscious.
"Keep your hands where I can see them," she said. "If you do anything funny, I'll cut you in half. Get out."
"I'm stuck," Hess said.
She slashed again. This time her sword passed through the windshield and lopped off the entire front end of the vehicle. Bulletproof glass and hardened steel seemed to offer no resistance. He could now climb out through the gap.
"Very slow," she said. "My boss didn't order me to keep you alive. He just told me to not let you escape."
He got out with his hands in the air. His legs were shaking. She kept the tip of her sword near his throat the entire time, and the blade was as steady as a rock.
She took his gun from him, tossed it in the air, and cut it in half. Metal parts and bullets fell to the ground. Then she sliced off a knife attached to his belt.
In a flash, the sword was back at his throat.
"How are you doing that?" he said.
"My sword is coated with the Lord's rage," she said. "Feel for yourself."
She touched his shoulder with the sword. The sudden, unexpected pain made him scream. It was like being hit by a cattle prod set on maximum power. He looked at the wound. She had sliced through his clothes and had gashed his skin, but there was no bleeding. The exposed flesh was gray and withered. He couldn't believe his eyes.
"Move!" the woman ordered. "Hands up!"
Hess started walking back to the factory. She stayed behind him with her sword near the side of his neck.
"What's your name?" she said.
"Hess. What's yours?"
"None of your damn business. You're the commander of Unit K, right?"
"Yes," he said. "Do you want to be a rich woman?"
"I already have everything I need."
"But you can always use more. I have lots of gold hidden away in places all over the world. You're a very attractive woman. You can be my girlfriend. We'll live like a king and a queen."
She chuckled. "You're a fool."
"You don't like gold?"
"It's just dumb metal."
He didn't understand her attitude.
As they approached the factory, two members of Delta Force came forward and grabbed Hess by the arms.
"I caught a straggler, boys," the woman said. "Let's take him to my boss."
The black coating evaporated from her sword, revealing bright, polished steel. She put the sword in a scabbard on her back.
The small group walked through the factory. The bodies of dead mercenaries were scattered through the large rooms. Delta Force operatives were everywhere, and they were obviously searching for hidden enemies.
Hess saw the surviving members of Unit K in the open area where the sewing machines were located. Twelve of his men were kneeling on the floor in a straight line. Their hands were cuffed behind their backs, and their faces were down. Ten guards in white stood over them.
One mercenary gave Hess a hard look. The message was, "You failed us, and if we ever meet again, we'll kill you." Hess tried to smile in apology.
Hess was pulled along until they entered a tool room near the loading dock. Pry bars, hammers, and chisels hung from hooks in the walls. The enemy commander was sitting on a chair. A bloody bandage was wrapped around his thigh. He had straight, brown hair. Thick eyebrows shaded his eyes.
The woman that had given Hess so much trouble was standing beside her boss. She had cut off her hair, had covered her skin with brown shoe polish, and had put on the fatigues of a mercenary. It wasn't the best disguise, but from a distance, it might work. Her pupils looked like tiny mirrors, but he assumed it was just the lighting.
She approached Hess. Her face was still swollen from when he had hit her. Up close, she wasn't that impressive. It was hard to believe she had single-handedly killed so many members of Unit K.
"I still owe him for punching me, sir," she said.
"Then hit him back," her boss said.
She twisted, and her foot whipped around. She struck his temple near his eye with her heel. The world flashed white and then black.
C
hapter Twenty-five
Aaron looked at the unconscious body on the floor. "I didn't say knock him out. I had questions for him."
"Sorry, sir," Sheryl ducked her head. "I was angry. I hit him too hard."
"That's OK. We'll interrogate him properly when he wakes up. I have something special in mind for him anyway. The man loves gold a little too much." He looked up at the two Delta Force operatives who had escorted Hess. "Please, bring Major Hamilton here. I need to talk to him. Thank you."
The soldiers in white left.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Aaron told Tawni, "Call the rest of the team. Have them come here right away."
"Yes, sir," she said.
He didn't let it show on his face, but his injured thigh was exceedingly painful. He needed Smythe to heal him.
After Tawni made her calls, she gazed at Sheryl and said, "That's a different look for you: brown, bald, and puffy."
Sheryl smiled prettily. "I'm making a fashion statement."
"I don't think it will catch on. The mirror eyes are spectacular though. You got a gift?"
A mirror suddenly appeared between Tawni and Sheryl. Tawni stared at it with a confused expression. Sheryl reached through and tweaked Tawni's nose, making her jerk back in surprise. The mirror vanished.
Tawni raised her eyebrows. "That's cool, but I don't see how you kill people with mirrors."
"It depends on where you put them." Sheryl winked.
Several minutes later, Smythe and Odelia arrived. When the healers saw Aaron's injury, they immediately ran over to him.
"Fix me up," Aaron said.
Tawni closed the door. Smythe used a knife to cut away the clothing around Aaron's wound. Then Smythe put his hand into Aaron's thigh. The sensation was disturbing but not uncomfortable. Aaron waited calmly.
Finally, Smythe pulled out a .45 caliber bullet with a flattened nose. The wound was healed. He dropped the bullet into Aaron's hand.
"He could use a touch-up," Smythe told Odelia.