by Mark Tufo
“Dixon, you want to answer the young captain’s query?”
“Wouldn’t be dramatic enough,” Dixon said. “She’ll most likely put our heads on spikes and parade them around as a way to deter any future trouble.”
“Hadn’t thought about the spikes part, but that seems fitting for her,” I said. “What’s the reaction time on the gun?”
“From the time its laser guiding system acquires a target and the bullets are fired.” He paused to think. “It’s at just about two seconds. Give or take the beat of a hummingbird’s heart.”
“You figure the door to this hallway at what, fifty yards?” I asked, not intending to stick my head out.
“Forty-five.”
“That’s pretty specific.”
“I’m paid to know this place. And no, you can’t make it to the door before that gun cuts you in half. It would take a world class Olympic sprinter somewhere in the neighborhood of four seconds to make that. No disrespect, but you don’t look like a World Class Olympian.”
“I’ll have you note that I took third place in the Beer and Bong Olympiad 1987. Fucking Bennie Jacobsen, I swear the dude had an iron lung. Nobody takes a full hit from an Apogee bong and stays standing. It’s just impossible.”
“I don’t see the relevancy.”
“Oh, there’s none really. I just like to say inane things right before I try stupid things.”
“I’ve already told you that you can’t possibly make this.”
“Just tell me what I’m looking for.”
“I would imagine the white light.”
“Humor me, Captain.”
Captain Najarian shook his head. “The second or third guy in the column will have a bright yellow device, most likely adhered to a special Velcro strip on the left side of his chest.”
“Most likely?”
“He could just as easily have it in his pocket. It will work just as effectively from there. Mr. Talbot, I have to say it again…you cannot make it.”
“Let him try,” Dixon interceded as if he were doing me a favor.
I knew better. His chances of survivability increased with me out of the picture. Not great mind you—he still had Deneaux to contend with, but any percentage points of an increase was better than nothing.
“Aw, Dix, I think we’ve had a breakthrough,” I said, touching my heart and then caressing the side of his face. He didn’t share in the merriment. I could feel him shake from within. I’d like to think it was more terror than anger.
The guns had been silent for a few minutes. Whoever had thought to test their strength and resolve had either thought better of it, or was more likely dead. The time of our reckoning was coming nigh. Satan was around the bend, so to speak.
“What about Satan?” Dixon asked.
“I really said that shit out loud? Weird. Be quiet, I have to time this right.”
“It’s suicide.” Captain Najarian was next to me, doing his best to look down the hallway at the door like I was.
“Shh. I think they’re here.” They really weren’t trying to be all that quiet about it, and why should they? The victorious and over-confident were always boisterous. “Do not get in my way, and don’t let Dix over there slide the cell door shut on me.”
Dixon barely looked up from the bed he was sitting on. “Stuck between a pit viper and a mongoose.”
“Pit vipers will strike out against anything. Mongooses, is that how you say the plural? Is it mongeese? Naw, that sounds weird. Whatever, a mongoose only attack the snakes. I’m assuming in your analogy that Deneaux is the viper?”
Dixon looked over at me. “I can see why she’s wanted you dead.”
“Are you talking about my wife or Deneaux? I just want to be clear.”
“They’re getting ready to open the door so whatever idea you had, you might want to put into action soon,” the captain warned.
“Well, they’re never really ideas,” I told him as I gripped the bars to either side of me and took in three rapid breaths before pushing myself out into the hallway.
I misjudged my shove off and hit the far side wall. My heart pounded hard, blood pulsing through my system at supersonic speed. I heard the thump of it as it flashed by my eardrum. My chest vibrated from each heavy contraction. A squirt of pure adrenaline was injected into my blood stream as I watched a small slit open up in the wall directly in front of me. To the rear I could hear a series of beeps as one of Deneaux’s men was keying in the entry code for the door. I looked forward and backward, lining myself up as best I could.
My legs felt simultaneously wooden and feathery. Would they fail me when the time came? My heart thudded again. Time had perceptibly slowed down. To Captain Najarian, seemingly no time had passed since I’d left the cell. To me, I think I could have read the Iliad and caught up on all those seasons of Lost I’d missed. He looked to be in slow motion as he was getting his arm in place to urge me back with a wave. We might be enemies on paper, but that didn’t mean we still didn’t need each other’s help to deal with the bigger threat. It was safe to assume Dixon wasn’t going to get his hands dirty anytime soon.
Red lasers flared out from the hole, the entire corridor was bathed in the iridescence. I simultaneously heard the sound of a round being primed into the machinegun, and the bolt being retracted in the door behind me. It was this hummingbird’s heartbeat that was going to be the death of me. The walls of my heart had just contracted. I pivoted and was launching myself back into the cell. Captain Najarian was getting to the side of the door. I was halfway back when the first round exploded from the gun, the bullet close enough to burn the outer layers of my shirt, as it traveled by. It was followed by eight or nine of its buddies. The gun had followed me all the way back to the cell where Captain Najarian had helped to pull me in a fraction of second quicker.
As soon as I was in, I gripped the bar on the inside to stop my forward momentum and pull me back so that I could see if my gambit had worked. A pool of blood and the upper torso of a man who had been cut down from bullets meant for me, clogged the open doorway. Another behind him had been hit as well; this I could tell from his screams. I grabbed my rifle and started running down the corridor. Probably should have waited to make sure the remote hadn’t been hit, but it was too late now as I brought the M-16 to bear and raced down the corridor. Five or six men were still trying to come to grips with what had just transpired when I opened fire. I caught two of them completely unawares. The rest were quick to recover, and by recover I mean retreat. I’d killed another and wounded a fourth, his leg leaving a marking of his trail in blood.
“Get down!” Captain Najarian was shouting as he was running up behind me, his pistol in his hands.
At first I thought it was an attempt to apprehend me. That was, of course, until bullets started to slam into the wall next to me. I dropped down to the ground as fast as gravity and commands to my muscles would allow. I let my rifle go as I braced for impact. I could hear the air around me as it was violently parted from the assault of the bullets.
Once the whine of echoing bullets died down, I rolled my head to look up at the approaching captain. “What now?” I asked. His pistol was down by his side, more or less pointing at my head by default.
“Kill him!” Dixon shouted from the cell. He’d just gotten brave enough to poke his head out.
“Pecker,” Captain Najarian mumbled. As far as I knew, he could be talking about me or Dixon. He got closer and leaned down, extending his hand.
“I ordered you to kill him, Captain!”
“I heard you loud and clear. You want him dead so badly, take my gun and do it yourself.”
I grabbed my weapon as I got to my feet. “Thanks,” I told him as I stood up.
I hope that covered all the instances it was directed for. He had saved my life when he told me to duck, he had not killed me—which was a bonus—and he had helped me up. Yeah “thanks” should be fine. I walked through the door and to the man that had the remote I was looking for. His
head had been completely removed. You’ll note I did NOT use the adjective “neatly”. Flaps of skin and skull were still holding on, and his spine was jutting up from the hole; but yeah, other than that, his head had been vaporized.
The men who had retreated from our small battle had walked right into an ambush. Another fifty cal had eviscerated them before they realized they didn’t have the all-important remote. I’d seen a lot of death since this began, and to say one death was worse than another kind of trivializes the whole thing; but holy shit, what that round will do to a human being is beyond description. It was tough to tell where one body ended and the other began. It looked more like a human spare parts factory—a tooth there, a nose over there, a femur chunk in the corner. A swallowed grenade wouldn’t have done as much damage.
“So we’re pretty much good to go now?” I asked the captain as I slipped the remote into my pocket.
“Mostly. She can still have workarounds, but the chance that supporters of hers will know how do to it are slim. I designed the system and the back doors within it.”
“That’s only sort of what I meant.”
“Me and you? We’re fine. If we make it out of this, and Hawes is still alive, I’ll have to make a show of trying to recapture you.”
“How good of a show?”
“I was never a very good actor.”
“Okay because that wasn’t abundantly clear. I’ll ask a different way. We make it through this, you’ll let me go?”
He laughed a little. “Yes, Mr. Talbot, we survive and I won’t lift a finger to stop you.”
“But,” I raised my own finger, “you also won’t lend a hand either, right?”
“Correct again, I will still need plausible deniability if that should come to pass.”
“Is he dead yet?” Dixon asked without looking this time.
“He seems fine to me,” I said as I patted the captain’s chest, looking for any bullet wounds. “Come on, Dix, we’ve got a coup we need to quell.”
“Our deal, Mr. Talbot, is it still in effect?” Dixon asked as he walked out of the cell, nervously glancing back at the gun station that was quiet.
I’m not going to lie. I thought about tossing the remote away from me and watching Dixon get pummeled by high speed projectiles. But the man was still useful.
“I promise not to kill you, Dix, but I want to renegotiate the rest of the terms. And I swear, if you bring up my family again, I’m just going to shred your face like pulled pork. I’ll help you get your little boy’s club fort back, and then I think we’re more than even. Wouldn’t you agree?” I asked this as I casually rested my rifle barrel on my right arm, conveniently pointing at him.
I had no doubts Dixon Hawes would play the penultimate politician and promise me exactly what I wanted to hear, and when the time came, he would do exactly as he’d always intended. Odds were he was never going to truly let my family go, not with their knowing where this facility was, and also with possible thoughts of revenge on their minds.
“Even? I guess that I am inclined to believe that we are. No harm shall befall you or your family.” The smile he gave me would have made a shark proud. He approached with his hand outstretched.
“I’d rather shake hands with a reptile.”
“Excuse me?” he asked as we clasped grips and shook.
Here we were, two men lying to each other face-to-face, hands clasped in a sign of friendship and honor. How many times had this most basic of agreements been broken since the dawn of the gesture? I would kill him whether I got out of here or not.
“Nothing. Sorry. Any ideas, Captain?” I asked. It was easy enough to see the glares Dixon was leveling at his underling who was doing his best to ignore them.
“Yes, Captain, what should we do now?” Dixon asked sarcastically.
If body language was any indication of intent, Dixon was in more danger from his captain that he was from me at the moment.
“Reinforcements, we need to get more of my men. We’ll have to be careful. Deneaux’s men still have the ability to travel unhindered. And now she’s going to know we’ve made it through,” he said, pointing to a camera.
I pulled the remote from my pocket and waved to the camera, a huge grin on my face.
Chapter Eight - Mrs. Deneaux
“Son of a bitch,” Mrs. Deneaux said, staring at the monitor. “I would really like to have met his mother. She probably could have showed me a thing or two.” She cackled, but it was not nearly as full of mirth as it had been a few moments earlier. “Again, Michael, you have escaped what I would have thought was an unwinnable position. Why are you constantly making me feel that I have chosen the wrong side? Oh well, try and try again as my old pappy used to say.”
Mrs. Deneaux pushed down on the PA system. “Michael Talbot has escaped. He is with two other fugitives outside of Cell block B. The first to kill him and his companions will be given one pound of gold.”
Chapter Nine - Mike Journal Entry 5
“Wow, does she have that kind of payment lying around?”
“Yes, Fort Knox contents now reside here…or really, in actuality, always did.”
“That’s enough, Captain!” Dixon shouted.
“Does it really matter if he knows or not?”
“I knew those conspiracies on YouTube were right. My wife thought I was crazy, staying up all night and watching them. Said it was going to rot my brain. I think I’m just fine.
“Umm, yeah,” the captain muttered. “I think we should leave. Just because there really is nowhere to spend a pound of gold doesn’t mean they won’t kill us trying to get it.”
“I’d kill me for a pound of gold,” I said.
“That can be arranged,” Dixon said.
“I wonder what your hide is worth.” I asked, grabbing him by the shoulder. “Wait, if you can’t spend the gold what’s the sense in having it here? What does it matter?”
“I’ll give you the condensed version, Mr. Talbot, since you seem like a Reader’s Digest type of person,” Dixon said.
“Is that a slight? I’ve always liked the ‘Humor in Uniform’ section.”
“Me too,” Captain Najarian added.
“Every country since the dawn of man has collapsed. It’s an inevitability. The average citizen did not think this could happen, especially modern day Americans who were lulled into a false sense of security. On average, this country was tested to its limits every fifty years—the war of 1812, the Civil War, WWI, and WWII. It was after the Second World War that the government recognized the pattern and started to design ways to keep its people in line. A big part of that was television news. Fear mongering were the words they used. The easiest and most effective way to control a populace is through fear.”
“Come on, you’re going to tell me that Walter Cronkite helped usher in the modern era of trepidation?”
“He was handpicked by the CIA because of his perceived trustworthiness as an individual. Fear of the Communists, fear of drugs, fear of terrorists, fear of your pedophile neighbor—this keeps people in line. They are too busy and concerned with all these other threats to give their government, who supposedly protects them, much more than a secondary glance. Our goal had always been to show the government for what they truly were.”
“And replace it with what? What you have here? Oh, you’ve done brilliantly. Can’t tell you how much better this is, as opposed to sitting at the DMV all day. I hope you guys really focus on cleaning up bureaucracy.”
“We really should get going,” Captain Najarian urged.
I wanted to tell him that I was just going to need a moment while I picked up a smug Dixon by his ankles and then kind of swung him around until I smashed his head against whatever got in the way. Instead, I nodded and let him lead on. The stealth with which we moved seemed relatively pointless, because at every new corridor we entered, Deneaux would announce our location over the PA.
“I don’t know which of you two assholes I want to kill worse,” I said after Deneau
x made her newest broadcast. “I mean Dixon or Deneaux. Not you,” I assured the captain when he turned to look at me.
‘Tommy, where are you?’
‘Heading your way.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I joined in with a column of armed men running. I’ve been around you long enough to know they’re most likely going toward you in an attempt to kill you.’
‘That’s sort of funny in a strange way.’
‘I thought you might like it.’
‘You catch the part about the remote?’
‘Working my way past each man, haven’t seen it yet. Might have it in a pocket or something.’
“Oh, this is going to be good,” came over the public address system.
I had to think Deneaux had pushed the button inadvertently. Maybe, maybe not. It would sort of be like her to torture her victims first but unlike her to give advance warning.
“I’m going to shove a cigarette in her eye the next time I see her,” I said as the captain and I took defensive positions. Dixon was behind the captain as we tried to hug the walls.
‘Tommy, you’d better be careful. If you come through the door, there’s a good chance you’ll end up shot.’
‘I haven’t found the remote.’
‘Get out of there then. Wait…first tell me how many there are.’
‘Thirteen.’
‘Well, at least it’s a nice lucky number.’
‘Not for them.’
The door to our corridor was just opening when the rifle shots rang out. The captain looked to me, but I was already on the move and heading to the door. Tommy was firing on the group he was traveling with; he had the element of the surprise, but once they regrouped, he’d be in some serious trouble.
I’ve got to give the captain credit—he didn’t so much as furrow his eyebrows trying to figure out what I was doing. He followed quickly. Dixon didn’t; no surprise there. Tommy had taken four down by the time I got to the doorway. The rest were all in various states of turning to look for their attacker, so none of them had the good fortune to be looking toward my doorway. The first man was so close I didn’t even need to aim. I just pressed the barrel against his side and let loose a three round burst that I’m sure tattered his insides.