VirtuaScape

by Kelvin Kelley

Combat training was a way of life. And every citizen had gone through such training, at least since mandatory conscription had gone into affect. This was true for Grace as well. Though it had been many years since she had undergone that seemingly never ending torture that was called boot camp, what she had learned in those few weeks had saved her life more than once. It had been more than the discipline and structure of the training. Or even what she had learned about munitions or weaponry. And it had even been more than the hand to hand combat training. It had been a revelation to her that she could be a lethal force, not only capable of defending herself, but of taking down the enemy. She remembered when she had first realized what she was capable of, and how it had allowed her to sleep peacefully for the first time since she had arrived at her training base. But as she stood there with her gun aimed at the man lying on the ground, she did not reflect on her training. Most of what had just happened had come from muscle memory from long ago, but the key part had come from her desire to survive. To not be subdued, or taken advantage of.

  As she stood over the man on the floor, she took a deep breath. Her heart pounded, and the sound echoed in her ears, but her hands did not waiver. Her finger was taught on the trigger, ready to fire, as she messaged Mason. Where are you, she asked. In the lobby, he responded. Get you ass up here, she sent back. What? He replied. Get up here, now! She sent. The man on the ground raised his arms.

  “Don’t move!” Grace yelled. He froze.

  “Take it easy, Mrs. Alexander.” He said calmly.

  “I’ll take it easy, as long as you don’t move. Who are you?”

  “Sloan. Connor Sloan. Secret Service.”

  “I know what your ID says. I want to know who you are?” She demanded.

  “Connor Sloan.” He said again. “Message your husband, Mrs. Alexander. He’ll vouch for me.” He said as he lay half in and half out of the room.

  “I just did.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. He’s on the way up.” Grace replied. Sloan smiled.

  “Can I get up now?” He asked.

  “You move, and I’ll shoot you where you lay.”

  “Mrs. Alexander-”

  “Who are you?” She interrupted.

  “Connor Sloan.” He replied again.

  “Grace?” Mason’s face appeared in the doorway. “What’s going on here?”

  “This man attacked me.” She said calmly, her gun still firmly trained on Sloan.

  “Attacked you?” Mason said in disbelief. “Honey, this is your new agent. Connor Sloan.” He reached down to help Sloan up. Grace did not lower her weapon.

  “Then why did he attack me?”

  “My apologies, Mrs. Alexander.” Sloan said as he accepted Mason’s hand and pulled himself up. “When you opened the door, all I saw was the gun. My training kicked in. I was just focused on getting control of the firearm.” On his feet, he turned to face her. “Are you okay?” He asked her.

  “I’m fine.” She said, though she still had not lowered her weapon.

  “Grace, it’s okay. You can put the gun down now.” She looked from Sloan to her husband. After a moment, she slowly lowered her gun. Her rigid posture began to relax, as she turned and entered the kitchen, leaving the two men at the open door. By the time she had reached the counter, she was shaking. The gun clattered down next to the sink, as she gripped the edge on the counter to keep from falling to the floor. She felt weak, as if the strength had been sucked from her. Even her insides began to tremble, as she suddenly bent over and threw up into the sink. Mason rushed to her.

  “Grace, honey. It’s okay.” He said softly, as he gently touched her shoulder. “It’s okay.” Her stomach empty, the retching stopped. She turned on the water, rinsed her mouth, and then her face. Mason handed her a towel. She looked into his eyes for a moment, then accepted the towel and mopped at her face. She glanced back into living room at Sloan. He had shut the door, and now stood rock still in front of it. He noticed her gaze, and nodded at her. She turned back to Mason.

  “Where were you?” She asked. He looked puzzled. “You were supposed to be here.”

  “I was running a little late.” He glanced back at Sloan. “I didn’t think it would be a problem.” He touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry.” She looked at him with a combination of loathing and fear, but after a moment, her expression softened. She hugged him. As she breathed in the scent of his aftershave, and the musky smell of his skin, she began to relax. It hadn’t been his fault. Not really. It was her. She had overreacted. She took a deep breath, and slowly sighed it out. She pulled back, looked into his eyes, and then gave him a quick kiss.

  “I think I have an apology to give.” She said softly, and left him standing there. She walked confidently into the living room and approached Sloan. He stood unmoving, his face expressionless, arms at his side. She looked into his eyes. “I think I may have overreacted.” She began.

  “Not at all.” Sloan replied. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I’m sorry, Mrs. Alexander.” He offered his hand. She glanced down at it for a moment, and then reached out and shook it.

  “I’m sorry too, Mr...Sloan is it?”

  “Yes, mam. Connor Sloan. Feel free to call me Connor.” A slight smile came to his face. She watched his face for a moment, and then a smile crept to her own face, as Mason stepped up beside her.

  “You know, Connor,” He began. “I’m not so sure that Grace here even needs Secret Service protection. Looks like she did a pretty good job of taking care of herself.” He chuckled.

  “That she did, sir.”

  “Oh I can, if I have to.” Grace said, calm now. “But I prefer not to have too. Mr. Sloan...welcome aboard.”

  Chapter 7