Contents
Broken Angel
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
Broken Angel
a short story by Andrew Broderick
Copyright 2017, all rights reserved
CHAPTER ONE
Xandrie Kovak, a pretty, long-haired woman of Chinese descent, stood by her white mailbox flipping through the mail. Beside her was a white picket fence, demarcating a small, perfectly manicured lawn. Behind that was a small single-story house, with light yellow siding and white paintwork, but no garage. It was part of a street of dwellings that were identical in every way; airbrushed American perfection. Forty feet above, an artificial sky shone intermittent rays of sun between scudding white clouds.
Xandrie headed back inside the white front door, her loose red blouse shimmering in its silkiness. She headed down the short hallway into the kitchen, whose array of appliances would be partially recognizable to someone from the 21st century. As she set the mail on the table, the front of the house erupted in a flash of white and yellow that shot timbers and shreds of siding high into the air. The concussive blast sent sent flaming debris into the kitchen. The joists holding up the room groaned as they began to collapse.
“What the…?” Xandrie exclaimed, looking up from where she had thrown. The now-flaming structure began to fall. She scrambled to her feet and raced for the back door, just as the spot she had occupied moments before rippled with fire and sparks. Once outside, one look around told her all she needed to know: her house was the only one destroyed, and she had to run for her life.
But, Xandrie couldn’t run. A giant hand pressed in on her chest and throat, choking her. Clasping a hand to herself, she sank down on the lawn, as she was transported to another time and place. Explosions and rockets roared around her. Four fellow soldiers to the right were ripped to shreds by shrapnel before her eyes. Xandrie keeled over onto her side. Run, a little voice inside told her. Run. She shook her head and forced herself back into the moment. Pieces of lighter, flaming debris fluttered down like torched butterflies, turning the lawns around her into seas of fire.
Xandrie jumped to her feet and vaulted the fence into the next yard, thanking God that she happened to be wearing her running shoes. She then stopped looked around momentarily. From behind the burning house appeared a man who was supposed to be dead.
****
She had no time to wonder. Xandrie spun around, sped up to a sprint, and hurdled the next fence, and then the one after that. After two more rectangles of grass, she looked around. The swarthy-faced, brown-haired man was gaining on her. But… his legs? I thought… She had no time to think. She darted around the side of the house, into the street. It was completely devoid of cars. She sprinted along the sidewalk. In an instant, her assailant was behind her again, still gaining on her.
Thirty heart-pounding seconds later, Xandrie reached the top of an escalator, leading down into a park the size of two football fields, with its own artificial sky many stories above. It was time to try something she’d often thought about. She jumped onto the brushed metal surface between the up and down escalators, whipped off her shoes so the rubber wouldn’t act as a brake, and slid. It was a choice between possible death and certain death.
Xandrie’s hair flew out behind her as she accelerated. Seconds later, the black-clad assassin was also heading down the metal. He aimed his pistol, and a round whistled past her head. She laid down on her back, to present a smaller target. This had the added advantage of speeding up her descent.
There’s a broken neck in my near future, she thought, as the sidewalk came up to meet her. More bullets whistled past. Now what? She could only think of one thing. She slipped her shoes on quickly, sat up again and pushed upwards powerfully, leaping up and away from the rapidly-approaching ground, somersaulting through the air so fast that the concrete below was a blur. The cold, hard ground came up to meet her very quickly. Must stick it. She stretched out her arms, bracing herself into a roll, becoming a human bowling ball.
Xandrie’s attacker tried the same maneuver. On launching himself from the slide, he began to somersault in the air, but his gymnastic abilities were almost non-existent. He came untucked in the air, tumbling end over end. He hit the ground, chest first, his arms in front to avoid hitting his head, with a thud. ‘Ahhhrrrgh!’ He remained still.
The grass, sky, and buildings lining the park spun around Xandrie. Scrambling unsteadily to her feet, she oriented herself as best she could and sprinted towards the row of three-story brick buildings with on the other side of the road, staggering as she sped up, trying to shake off dizziness. Passersby stared open-mouthed at the scene as the man in black pushed himself slowly up off the sidewalk.
Xandrie darted into an alley between two storefronts, still making a slightly zig-zag line. On reaching an intersecting alley, she stopped and scanned around desperately, her hair swishing around at the back and sticking to her forehead at the front. The awful choking sensation resumed as her chest and throat began to tighten. Oh, God. There was no time for this. Xandrie saw a green Dumpster fifty yards to her right, behind a building. Too obvious a hiding place? Maybe, but it was all she had. Run, woman! She took off slowly. As she staggered, her assailant entered the first alley, going inhumanly fast but not yet able to see her.
Xandrie gritted her teeth and summoned every ounce of strength she had left. She made it to the Dumpster, flipped open its flexible black plastic lid, and collapsed into its dark, smelly interior. The lid flapped down just as he rounded the corner.
CHAPTER TWO
“As ex-Special Forces, you’re just what we’re looking for,” they’d told her a year ago. “We know your financial situation, and we can set you up for life if you’ll take this guy out for us.”
Who were they, and how did they have access to her financial records? The mob couldn’t do that, surely—they had to be the government.
“You know about my PTSD, right?” Xandrie said.
The man in the gray suit nodded.
“Then you know I may well screw this up?”
“I know what you’re capable of from the action in Sudan. You wired up half of Khartoum with explosives right under their noses. You guys’ training kicks in and nothing can stop you.”
“What are you paying, and who’s the target?”
“Two million, and he’s a drug lord with bodyguards. Six around him at all times.”
“Are you DEA?”
“Not at liberty to say, ma’am.”
“I want to see the cash first.”
He reached down and lifted a briefcase. He set it on his lap, and opened the lid a quarter of the way. There it was, wads and wads of crisp, new 100-dollar bills.
Xandrie was broke. The private protection business didn’t appeal to her, and her PTSD stopped her from doing another tour of duty. She had been unsure how she was going to support herself—until this came along.
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
He slid a manila envelope across the small table to her. “The target’s name is Jan Sevcik. Everything you need’s in there.”
****
Xandrie, in the detestable belly of the Dumpster, thought of the last time she’d seen Jan Sevcik. He was lying on the ground, his legs a bloody, shattered mess. He lay in large pool of red, with a fountain of the stuff coming from his neck. It pulsed in time with his heartbeat. Besides messing up his legs, the only other bullet she’d been able to get into him had hit him in the carotid artery, before she was ducking a hail of bullets from his charging bodyguards. While he wasn’t verifiably dead, no-one could survive losing that much blood. Except he had.
The images faded and Xandrie w
as looking at the slimy, rotten food-streaked surface in front of her. She pulled a sphere the size of a ping pong ball from her right jeans pocket. It bore a strong resemblance to an eyeball. She squeezed it, lifted the lid a crack, and tossed it out of the Dumpster. Immediately, a picture-in-picture showed in her vision, displaying the view from the tiny drone as it sped along the alley.
It passed the T intersection where she had turned, and kept going. There he was, running insanely fast towards her. Robotic prosthetics. He was bionic. Fantastic. He would cover the 400 feet to her location in a matter of seconds.
Move, Xandrie, move.
No.
You must, else you’re a dead woman.
I can’t.
You have no choice.
Black dots danced at the edge of her vision as she slowly, cautiously raised the lid an inch and peeked out. Xandrie then leapt out of the Dumpster and sprinted along the alley, cursing herself for having taken a rest stop. She could have gained over 100 yards on him in that time. Screw PTSD.
She breathed in and out deeply, deliberately, trying to keep life—preserving oxygen in her blood, while pumping her legs as fast as they would go. Bullets hissed past her ears. Come on woman, move. She took a right and flew back towards the street with the park on the other side, and took a left at the sidewalk. Bewildered shoppers and dog walkers scattered. She had to hurdle one black Labrador that was too slow to move. And there he was, the man-machine, never stopping, never tiring. And the distance was closing.
****
The park ended. Now, the other side of the street was occupied by a beltway transit system. It consisted a moving sidewalk such as one might find in an airport. Next to it was one that went faster, and the next was faster still, ultimately allowing pedestrians to move at highway speeds. Xandrie leapt over the first belt onto the second, and was moving at twenty MPH. She steadied herself and turned around just in time to see Jan draw his gun. With a quiet pfffft, bullets streaked towards Xandrie. She ducked and spun around to face forwards again, before leaping two more belts. Her feet were yanked out from under her by the much faster-moving rubber surface, and she grunted as she hit the ground.
Jan was already on the same belt she was. She jumped up and sprinted. A few seconds later, she leapt over the final two belts. The wind almost took her breath away, as offices, shops, and large art sculptures rushed by on both sides as though she was a carless human being whisked along an interstate. Her hair swirled around her, and she had to brush it away as she looked back. There he was, now only fifty feet away. Having no gun was really becoming a problem to Xandrie.
After looking around to check that nobody else was nearby, she pulled a small silver sphere from her left pocket, squeezed it, waited a few seconds, and threw it back at Jan. Two seconds later, he collapsed. His pistol flew a short distance from his right hand as he hit the ground. His eyes spat fire at Xandrie. Her highly-illegal use of an EMP grenade has disabled his legs—for now.
Xandrie turned and ran full tilt, adding her considerable speed to that of the moving sidewalk. The buildings ended, and the artificial sky raised up to 200 feet again, as she zipped by a large square with City Hall on the right. Its gray stone bulk passed a flash. Looking back, she saw Jan pull himself to his knees. The EMP effect was only temporary! Dammit! He was soon back on his feet and beginning to move. How on earth was she going to shake this guy?
CHAPTER THREE
Xandrie knew she would soon reach something that might aid in her escape: a vertishaft. This was an octagonal shaft some 100 feet wide, with an elevator on the inside of each of its faces. This express system serviced only the very top level of the city, some 2,300 feet above, and the bottom an equal distance down.
Blinking signs to Xandrie’s right warned of the impending end of the fastest lane. She continued surfing the black belt, watching as Jan got to his feet. She tried to time her exit until the last possible second, but his pistol was aimed at her head, so she had no choice but to move fast. Xandrie leapt onto the next belt, and then over two more, flipping and tumbling like a rag doll as her feet were yanked out from under her.
Jan made the same leap and also came crashing down. Xandrie gritted her teeth and fought her rising panic. Focusing on the next but one belt, she ran and jumped onto it. Again, she wasn’t fast enough to make up for the speed differential, and was spun head over heels. But, there was no time to think. She got up. To jump to the next belt, or past it and back onto the sidewalk? Speed was of the essence, but so was not dying in the process. She opted for the former, got up and jumped one belt over, managing to stay upright this time. Jan was still heading towards her rapidly.
One more running jump brought her back onto the sidewalk.
Xandrie’s hair and clothes sticking to her in an icky sweat bath. She panted like a dog at midday. Her entire body ached from the work and battering they’d received, but there was no time to think about. Another hundred yards and the street opened out into a wide, high circular space, overlooked by several levels above. Through the center of this area was the vertishaft.
People scattered as Xandrie pelted towards the glass column. A hundred feet behind, Jan knelt and aimed his gun carefully, in a two-handed grip. He squeezed the trigger.
Xandrie dodged to her left, unaware of the danger streaking towards her. With a zing the bullet buzzed her right ear and implanted itself in the forehead of an old lady. The group she was with shrieked in horror as she crumpled to the ground.
Xandrie looked over her shoulder. Fuck. Hot, furious energy surged through her. Should she just let him finish her off so no more innocent people got hurt?
Before this thought had finished crossing her mind she collided with a man. With an agonized “uggghh” he went flying, landing spreadeagled on the smooth tiled floor, completely winded. Xandrie flipped head over hells onto her back. She slid, narrowly missing a concussive blow between her head and the hard surface. The man’s wife screamed as she scrambled to her feet. Jan was once again closing fast. Xandrie charged towards the glass pillar. Was there an open elevator car? Of course not. She headed around it clockwise, her heart sinking with every closed door. And then—finally! Having run three quarters of the way around the shaft, two cars were boarding. And there he was.
Having guessed, correctly, that she would head all the way around, Jan lay in wait. Xandrie saw him from the corner of her eye as she charged at the closing door. In an instant he was close behind her. Xandrie knocked a small group of people down like bowling pins as she forced her way into the crowded car. Jan’s seething eyes met hers as the doors closed. As the car began to glide up, Xandrie got a bird’s eye view of the plaza. Police on Segway-like transports were converging on it.
****
The crowd in the glass elevator stared at the panting, exhausted woman.
“You in some kind of trouble?” a man asked. She couldn’t answer. The next elevator over was also accelerating up, forty feet behind hers. And there, looking up at her, was Jan. He was already raising his weapon.
Oh crap. Sandie backed up out of his line of fire just as the glass shattered. The other riders screamed and ducked. The bullet had also shattered the opposite side and the wind from the 100 MPH ride screamed through the small space. A mother hung onto her little boy, desperately trying to keep him from being sucked out.
Life sometimes comes down to one crazy moment. Xandrie once again had to choose between her very likely death, or 100% certain demise. She squeezed through the other terrified passengers to the open side of the elevator. She clung to the handrail as she squeezed under it, and stood up on the outward side. Xandrie was now in the howling downward wind, as the levels of the city flashed past. Then she let go.
****
Xandrie peeled away from the elevator car in the slipstream. It rocketed upwards, to the fading screams of those on board. She continued to fly upwards on momentum, tracing a ballistic arc like some kind of caped hero. She caught a momentary glance of Jan’s gaping mouth as his
ride passed her.
A few seconds later, Xandrie reached the peak of her flight and was suspended in time and space, caught in an unreal moment, floating freely over the center of the yawning shaft. Other elevator cars zoomed up and down their tracks, their occupants pointing at her. Then she began to fall.
The wind whipped her hair all around as she plunged. Within ten seconds, she was going 120 MPH straight down, the floors flashing past. Good thing I did so much skydiving. Xandrie straightened like a javelin, picking up even more speed. Glancing around she soon saw her quarry: a downward express elevator. She gritted her teeth and made sure to breathe through her nose as she streaked downward, closing fast on the three meter-wide square of brushed metal that was its roof. Once she was forty feet above, Xandrie spread herself out in an X shape to brake. She tilted her body to steer her descent as she closed in on her target. Oomph! She was down, hugging the cold metal as the inside of the vertishaft flashed past. Please don’t stop at the center again. Please. To Xandrie’s great relief, the elevator didn’t even slow down as it neared the level at which she had boarded. She was going to the very bottom of New Chicago.
CHAPTER FOUR
The elevator came to a stop at level zero. Xandrie could already see through the glass sides of the vertishaft that it had a very different feel to level 190, which was hers. It was dark and foreboding. However, she had a more immediate problem: how to get out of the shaft before the car rocketed back to civilization.
She sat up. Next to her, on a slightly raised section of the roof, was a service hatch. Relief flooded through Xandrie as she tugged at the handle and it opened. Mercifully, the inner one also opened. The last passengers exiting the car looked aghast at the sweat-soaked woman as she landed on the floor with a thud.
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