The Heart's Shrapnel

by S. J. Lynn

  “See you found the place okay,” Dylan says behind me.

  I jump. “Jesus. You scared the hell out of me. Yes. Where were you?”

  “Sorry. I was trying to get a signal. You can’t get anything down here,” he says looking around.

  “I think they might be behind this door if they’re even here at all. But, judging from the secrecy of this place, and its setup, I’d say there’s a pretty good chance they are. I’m going to see if there’s something I can use to break open this lock.”

  “I’ll see if I can get it open,” he says as I search for a tool. I’m not sure where Ryan is, but maybe he’s found something.

  “Got it, Wes,” Dylan shouts as the door opens.

  I immediately move toward it. “That was fast. Let’s see if we find what we’re looking for.” Moving past Dylan, I carefully walk into the dark space. It’s so black, I can’t see anything. “We’re going to need to get some flashlights so we—” My words are cut short by the slamming of the door.

  “Dylan, are you all right? What happened?” No response. I’m immediately on high alert. Someone got to him, which means they probably got Ryan as well.

  Shit. Think, Wes, think!

  Taking careful steps to my left until I meet a wall, I search for a light switch. It takes a while, but eventually I come across one. The light is dim, but I’m able to see where I am.

  Someone definitely lives down here in the center, at least part-time. There’s furniture, electricity, a bed, kitchen supplies. Everything.

  I hear movement to my right. Retrieving my gun from my back pocket, I go in search of the noise. The lights flicker as I get closer, but the noise stops.

  “Hello,” I call. “My name is Wes McClintock. I’m with the CID. Is there anyone down here?” When there’s no response, I call again. “Hello?”

  A sudden flurry of shouts erupts. “Help us! We’re in here. We’re in here.”

  The hostages? It has to be. For some odd reason, one of the voices sounds vaguely familiar. I move closer.

  As I near, there’s a human-sized cage with about a dozen women inside. They’re huddled together and frightened except one.

  “Mandy?” I ask in disbelief.

  Her clothes are dirty and torn. Her hair is matted to her face, and her eyes are swollen, but it’s her.

  “Phillip? Phillip!” she shouts. “Oh my God. Help us. Get us out of here.” She starts crying and yanking on the steel bars.

  Holstering my gun, I near the cage and yank on the door. I already know it’s locked, but I want to see how loose it is. The door rattles. Perfect.

  I search the group of women and stop when I see Lily, who is huddled in the far corner, hugging her knees. Her eyes are vacant.

  “Lily,” I say.

  “She hasn’t said anything since we’ve been here,” Mandy answers.

  “What happened? How long have you been down here?”

  “Just a few days after Jane left. We were asked to come here to help out at the general’s request.” She laughs, “We jumped at the opportunity to be with Jane again. Only thing is, we never made it. As soon as we arrived, some soldiers brought us to a secluded place in the desert. Then a group of men in turbans transferred us from one vehicle to another. We had to lay underneath a tarp. The damn thing was a sun soaker.”

  How could I have missed that? That day we saw women being yanked from those vehicles it was Mandy and Lily inside. If we had waited longer, we would have seen them. Ryan is going to be pissed. Not to mention the army. One of their own is to blame for this. But why involve these two? They have nothing to do with Phillip.

  Since they were asked and agreed to go, their absence would be explained. No one was expecting them, and no one was looking for them. And they didn’t expect to walk into a trap.

  “I’m going to get you out,” I assure her while looking around for something to pick the lock.

  “Where’s Ryan? Is he with you?” she asks, hopeful.

  I find a kitchen knife and work the lock. “Yes, but we got separated and now I’m locked in here. Dylan’s gone, too.”

  “Dylan?” She immediately lets go of the bars, taking a step back.

  Surely she remembers he’s my friend. “Yes. Remember him? He and Lily—”

  “Yeah, I remember him,” she cuts me off. “Can’t wait to get my hands on his throat.”

  I stop picking at the lock. “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t know?” she asks incredulously.

  “No. What are you talking about?”

  She walks back to the bars, getting as close as she can. “Son of a bitch threw us down here after some of the other girls were traded off. There’s no telling what he’s done to Lily. Keeps taking her from time to time, disappearing for a while before bringing her back.”

  She must be delusional from being down here in this dark place.

  My first instinct is to defend Dylan. He’s been my right arm for five years now. He’s valued at the CID. Was that why General Mayfield used him to “scope out” possible attack sites. There were more men qualified to do the job, including me, so it would make sense.

  Could Dylan be the mole my boss was talking about? Mayfield always seemed one step ahead of me when I had been extra cautious about everything. Plus, Dylan would disappear at random times.

  “Are you certain that it was Dylan you saw and not someone else?”

  “Yes. Positive. I wouldn’t lie about something like this.”

  “I know you wouldn’t, I just—”

  “Wait a minute. You called yourself Wes earlier.”

  “Long story. I’ll fill you in later. Right now, I have to get you all out of here.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t let you do that,” Dylan says from behind as something hard presses against the back of my head—a gun. I’m disappointed for about a second, and then I get angry.

  “So, is it true?” I ask him—the man I thought was as loyal as they come.

  “Yes. You couldn’t just let it go. I tried to steer you in other directions, but as always, you figure everything out.”

  Didn’t seem to figure this out.

  “Where’s Ryan?”

  “Yeah, where’s Ryan, you prick!” Mandy shouts.

  “That pansy ran off,” he answers. “Now, sit in that chair.” I take my chances and sit in the one next to the cage. I want to keep an eye on the women.

  He immediately starts tying my wrists behind the back of the chair and quickly moves to my ankles. I can barely look at him.

  “Dylan, what are you doing? You don’t need to do this. If you’re being coerced . . .”

  “I’m not being coerced to do anything . . . at least, not now. I was at first,” he says as he walks around to face me. “You know my mom is sick. I need the money.”

  What?

  “You could have come to me if you needed extra cash.”

  Dylan laughs. “Like I would go to you for money. You think I’m that low to stoop and beg?”

  “Are you listening to yourself? You’ve messed up, Dylan. This will put you away for a long time.”

  “Then you understand why I have to kill you. I can’t let that happen,” His hands shake. His eyes lower. “I’m sorry, Wes. I’m so sorry.”

  Wait a minute . . .

  “Tell me you didn’t.” There’s no need for elaboration. “Phillip?”

  “He knew too much.”

  Scrunching my eyes shut, I tip back my head and let out a strained moan. I’ve never known despair like this. My own friend, my partner . . . my brother’s killer.

  “Why?” I ask, barely able to get any sound out.

  He looks at the women in the cage. Mandy glares. Ignoring her, he looks down at Lily, who is still huddled in a corner. His look turns solemn.

  “I don’t even know how it happened. I was investigating the drug usage on post back in Baumholder with Leonard. Started sniffing around the area to see who all was possibly involved. That’s when I saw your brother. He
and General Mayfield were having a heated discussion. I tried getting closer to hear when I accidentally knocked something over, alerting them to my presence. Mayfield didn’t want to “get rid of me,” so he contacted me the next day after doing background information on me. Of course, my involvement with the CID, as well as yours and Leonard’s, were erased for our protection. But my history wasn’t. He found out about the debt I was in because of my mother’s cancer . . . and the rest is history.” He opens his arms wide.

  “You are not saying my brother was involved in all of this because I won’t believe you.”

  “No, Wes. He wasn’t involved. Just an unlucky soldier who saw and heard things he shouldn’t have. You and I both know it’s a big deal stealing army weapons and selling them to terrorists.”

  “Shit, Dylan. You didn’t.”

  “Unfortunately, yes. The general was already in over his head. He couldn’t have another person get killed on his watch. So, he hired me to take out your brother and said he would give me a third of his earnings if I helped him ship the guns quietly. That’s where the big money was. Made over a hundred grand myself.”

  “He was using you, Dylan. Couldn’t you see that? And what about the women? Where did they all go? And why use American women? Women we know, I might add. That’s more dangerous.”

  “These women,” he gestures with his head, “were a distraction. More for leverage, in case we needed it. Mayfield’s idea. Yes, some were sold, but we had to throw you off. Didn’t work, but we thought it would. The locals were convenient because no one gives a shit about anyone in this place. It was the perfect solution. So was Kevin,” he adds.

  “What?”

  “Kevin . . . Jane’s ex. I’m sure you probably suspected he was in on this, well, not directly. The prick is nothing but an abusive dominator.”

  My mind works to put together what he’s trying to tell me. What a big mess.

  “You told Mayfield about Jane and I; then you got him to bring back Kevin, whom he just sent home to keep me busy?”

  “Yes. You were messed up from your ex cheating on you even after all these months. When I saw how affected you were with Jane, there was no denying you’d do anything to keep her safe. Found out from Ryan that Mandy here had seen bruises on Jane’s body, so I put the pieces together.”

  “Go to hell!” Mandy shouts.

  “Now, Mandy, let’s not be mean,” Dylan scolds.

  “I don’t think you grasp the concept of what you’ve started here. Those guns are going to be used to kill numerous lives, and you’re part of the reason why. And my brother . . .”

  His look goes from smug to sincere with regret. “You have to believe me, Wes. I didn’t want to kill him. Shit. It was like killing you. It was your body I saw sink to the ground. When I heard Leonard say you were going undercover as your twin, I panicked. I now had two people to cover things up with. Imagine telling Mayfield you are dead, only to see you back alive. He was furious.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell him it was me?”

  Dylan looks down at his feet. “I wanted to give you at least that. I guess in a way, I wanted you to get revenge on the person who killed your brother . . . me. And, I’m a selfish man, Wes. I needed that money more than I needed our friendship. I’m sor—”

  “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry one more time, or I’ll make sure to blow that word right out of your vocabulary.”

  He nods before turning around.

  What’s he doing?

  Fishing in his pocket, he takes out a key.

  He’s unlocking the women? I’m not sure his reason for letting them out, but I don’t want to chance it in case he plans on harming them. With all of the strength I possess, I lift with my legs, bringing the chair with me, and slam down hard, shattering the legs.

  Dylan quickly turns around, but he’s not fast enough. I lift my feet out of the rope, spin, and knock him down. He falls back, hitting his head hard on the table.

  “I’ve got the key,” Mandy says. She unlocks the door from the inside while I secure Dylan after finding a rough corner to slice at the rope still wrapped around my wrists.

  “Go,” I shout once the door opens. “Get everyone out of here.” As Mandy starts ushering everyone out, I turn Dylan onto his stomach and tie his hands together behind his back. The irony is stifling in here.

  “Hey, Wes. You in here, man?”

  Ryan?

  Ryan rushes through the door and skids to a halt at the scene in front of him. “What the hell?”

  “Exactly,” I mutter. When he starts rubbing the back of his head, I remember Dylan saying he ran off. “What happened to you by the way?”

  “Hell if I know. One minute I was checking for another entrance and the next, I’m being whacked like a piñata. You think it was him?” he asks, gesturing to Dylan.

  “Possibly. He said you’d run off.”

  “Yeah, right,” he scoffs. “Wait. Is he . . .”

  I can’t answer. I don’t even want to admit it to myself. Nevertheless, I shake my head.

  “Shit, man. I’m sorry,” he mutters while looking around. I see his eyes grow wide; then his brows furrow. “What the hell is this? Some sick porn shoot?”

  “You didn’t see them?”

  “Them? Who?”

  “The women that were being held against their will . . . they were kept like sardines down here . . . Mandy was one of them,” I add. I watch as his face goes from confused to surprise, to anger. “Both her and Lily were in that vehicle the day we spotted women.”

  “But, we didn’t see them. I would have noticed if she were in that group,” he says a little defensively.

  “We left too soon.”

  “I’m really going to kill him now.” He starts for Dylan.

  “No,” I reach for my gun Dylan sat on the table and aim it at Ryan. His steps falter, and he looks at me in dismay. “I understand why you want to kill him, but you’ll only put yourself in a difficult situation, Ryan. Leave him to me.”

  “Okay,” he nods. “I can respect that. Where is she?”

  “She just left literally seconds before you came in. I can’t imagine they got—”

  Ryan runs out the door before I finish my sentence.

  I turn a passed out Dylan onto his side. “Looks like it’s just the two of us . . . friend.”

  ***

  When I pretended to be Phillip, I wanted war—I wanted blood. And damn it, I still do. Dylan killed my only sibling, my brother—my twin. And by doing so, he killed me.

  With the cloth I found and some chloroform, I repeat the scene we did with the Iraqi.

  I place the doused rag over his mouth. “Remember this?” I ask him as he frantically fights for air. “It should have been you we tortured.” I take it out and let him catch his breath. “It should have been you!” I shout.

  His head turns to the side. “Lo siento, mi amigo.”

  “Save your sorries for someone that gives a shit.”

  “You have to believe me,” he pleads while gasping for air.

  His words only to anger me more. Lunging forward, I grasp at both sides of his uniform, getting up as close as I can to look him in the eyes. “I don’t have to believe shit! You hear me? You are dead to me.” I push him down with barely restrained force.

  Needing to separate myself for a moment to collect my thoughts, I leave him to see what is happening outside. Grabbing the key, I shut the door in case he gets any ideas.

  Ryan is on the phone with Mandy tucked at his side. There’s no separating these two now they’re together again. And that’s how it should be. Then, I notice Lily. She’s still vacant, staring at nothing.

  What did he do to her? Jane pops into my mind. She’s going to be devastated. I’d told her she could trust my men and they weren’t bastards. Little did I know that wasn’t true. Now Lily has paid a price. Jane will know what to do.

  Ryan hangs up the phone. “That was General Fieldman—the replacement. He’s sending out men to co
me for the women. This is going to blow up, man. We can expect camera crews any minute now.”

  “I know,” I say as I run a hand down my face.

  “Where’s Dylan?” he whispers, and I assume it’s so Lily doesn’t hear his name.

  “He’s still where I left him.”

  “What will you do with him?” Mandy inquires, detaching herself from Ryan.

  I think, really think, about that question. What will I do with him? I know what I want to do. “Leave it to me and the authorities. I promise he’ll pay one way or another.” Placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, I look at her and Ryan before I head back into the pit. It won’t be long before the soldiers arrive. Better make this quick.

  He still sits in the spot I left him, tied to a chair. Probably too weak to free himself.

  Kneeling before him, I wait until he looks down at me. His eyes are bloodshot; his skin is drenched in filth and sweat.

  “When I first came here, I wanted nothing more than to kill the bastard who killed my brother,” I tell him.

  He winces.

  “You know that,” I continue. “I felt like I was being killed, brought back to life, and killed again . . . you did that.”

  Dylan groans in agony.

  “I had to tell my parents . . .” I pause to get my bearings. “Well, you can imagine how that went. My mother has welcomed you into her home many times, fed you . . . treated you like one of her own. So now I’m leaving you with the image of her devastated face when she finds out you killed her son.”

  Dylan cries harder. His eyes swell from his tears.

  “And when the hell did we become sloppy?”

  He squints.

  “Yeah, that’s right. You remember asking me that? I can’t believe you. All this time,” I say in a hushed voice, more to myself.

  I walk around him, come up behind him, and lean down so I can speak directly in his ear.

  “Make no mistake . . . I will haunt you until your last breath. Some say that’s worse than death itself.”

  He lets out a choked cry before I take a few steps back. Reaching into my pocket, I retrieve my gun and aim it right at his left shoulder. “Four centimeters from the heart,” I say before shooting him.