Empty Heart

by Al K. Line

"Yes, then we go in. Please do not get out of the car and risk anything going wrong. You know me, I can handle this." I gave Steve, and especially Vicky, a hard look; they nodded. We were on the same page here, neither would do anything that risked Sunshine's life.

  I gave Vicky the keys, just in case, and headed for the new houses.

  Across a wasteland of scrub and gravel, where another development would probably be built right after this one, I moved as fast as possible under the cover of darkness. At the fence line, I squatted beneath a tree and waited for a minute, listening, getting used to the different lighting. It was low-level, just a few streetlights already wired in and giving the night-patrolmen something to see by. Once this place was finished, the streets would remain lit up at all hours, safety for the residents, but for now it was full of shadow and strange, looming structures.

  Once I was confident I hadn't been seen, I moved along the perimeter slowly, listening and watching for the patrols. I could see no sign of movement, no houses with lights on. I didn't expect to.

  But I knew people, and I knew gangsters, and I knew cocky gangsters. They always screw up. Situations like this were always the same. They'd have one, maybe two people patrolling, the rest would be inside, thinking it best to watch the girl. Truth is, you're best having as many bodies as you can outside, there to stop anyone getting close enough to the house to be a problem. Another thing in our favor was there wouldn't be many of them anyway. If only three had gone to get the girl, and Paul was an extra person, that would be about it. Maybe there were only two or three, maybe several more, but we weren't looking at a large operation. These type of gangs were small, close-knit, but utterly without loyalty when it came down to it. Hence the dead dude on the boat. No honor amongst thieves, not most anyway.

  I continued making my way around the perimeter, stopping frequently in the shadows of trees or hunkering down in the long grass. Soon enough my investigation paid dividends and I watched as two men came from different directions and met up mere feet from my station. One came from the perimeter, the other from a street still waiting for asphalt to be laid. So, one walked the fence, the other roamed about just to be sure there were no infiltrators.

  Amateurs, that was obvious. The building site was huge, there were endless places to hide if someone made it through the fence, so what good was wandering about aimlessly?

  I watched as they talked quietly for a few seconds, then they continued on their way. One walked right past me, never even glanced my way. Unfortunately, and it only got worse with age, a curled-up Hat looked remarkably like a gnarled boulder.

  Once the other man had returned to sweep the streets, I withdrew Wand and without a word let joyous energy flow down my arm. Boy was I tired, but adrenaline and the need to succeed with this job buoyed my magic and powered up my mojo. The light was dull, and discreet, and he cut through the chain-link better than any snips ever could. With the gap wide enough, I eased the wire back, squeezed through, pulled it tight behind me, and ran silently after the perimeter guard.

  As I spotted him, I slowed, then walked at a sedate pace just fast enough to catch him up but slow enough to remain silent, like a ninja. I smiled at the thought, and wished I was a young boy so I could buy myself a cool ninja costume and have swords and nunchucks and stars and a mask and everything. Maybe even those cool slipper things too. I'd never had any of that stuff, never had anything cool, just an emptiness in my belly and a constant state of unease. All in the past, all gone. I had more than I could have ever imagined now, and I would not lose it, would not die, would not fail on this, what felt like the most important mission of my life because it was for a little girl, an innocent.

  I crept up behind the man and tapped him on the shoulder with Wand.

  Fair play to the guy, rather than turning in shock to see what it was, he elbowed backward and caught me right in the side of the head. Smart move, no wasted opportunity, no doing the obvious. He had training, street smarts born of living the life of a shifter no doubt.

  As he whirled while I was disorientated, he was already shifting, his clothes shedding as his frame shrank and he began to morph into something I couldn't discern.

  He shouldn't have bothered, as he was already dead.

  "Look at your shoulder, fucker," I said casually.

  He glanced at the exposed bone and writhing muscle that tried to continue the change, but it was being eaten away at a rapid pace. I shot my hand out, smothered his mouth, and locked an arm around his neck. I yanked hard to the side, and broke his neck. Feeling empty inside, like I'd turned the cap on a stubborn milk bottle, I dropped him where he lay and ran after the other guard even as the magic dissipated and the hole in his shoulder stopped devouring his flesh.

  One down, one to go, then the real fun starts.

  I dashed through the empty streets, the dark silhouettes of people's hopes and dreams for the future loomed over me with their exposed studwork, looking like grinning monsters observing The Hat at play.

  All Sneaky Like

  The one drawback to hunting men in urban environments is that they have just as many places to hide as you do. Sure, there are plenty of opportunities for surprise attacks, but you have to find them first, and that means you can run right into your enemy as you turn a corner if you aren't careful. So I crept, catlike, flowing across shadows. The exterior paper wrap on the houses flapping where it had come loose made me edgy, constantly alert and expecting an attack.

  He could be anywhere, taking any number of routes, and the only way to find him was to keep moving and hope I spotted him before he spotted me. It was slow going, and the longer it took the more anxious I became. Would they be on high alert now Paul hadn't checked in? Would the man be waiting for me? Had he seen me? Nothing for it but to continue and remain vigilant.

  Stress levels rose, my heart hammered in my chest, and I got cramp in my stomach. What was going on? Normally I was cool, calm, and collected in situations much worse than this.

  Because it was important, for Sunshine. Not just about me or some stupid artifact, but genuinely important stuff. She needed me, needed her dad, needed us. The vibe was also increasingly tense, the air fragmented with whispers of strange emotions drifting lazily by, affecting my mood, my thoughts, how I acted. I had to nail this down, control it, not let it influence me or I'd do something rash and it would be game over. A dead Hat was no use to anyone.

  Aha, that was it. I was actually a touch scared because I had no lives left to waste, would be trapped in a special kind of hell if I died this time. Taking up the mantle from a very pissed off Death who would have a thing or two to say about being tricked into holding down the worst job in existence.

  I was frightened because I didn't want to die.

  That too passed, and I understood it was Sunshine's influence yet again, morphing from making me unafraid of anything, uncaring even about her, to being swarmed with heightened emotion and hardly able to move under the crushing weight of responsibility and fear of the afterlife. The truth was somewhere in the middle, as so much always is.

  I continued, checking the streets as I went, making my body as small a target as possible. Hunched, I crossed between buildings packed tight together, detached houses only in name, so close to their neighbors they may as well have been joined, but then status was lost, so everyone got what they wanted.

  There he was, at the end of the street. He checked both ways, looked toward me and I flattened against the side of a finished house, and waited for him to continue his sweep.

  Wasting no time, I dashed across the road, took a path between two buildings, and then watched as he walked just ahead in the middle of the gravel road, head constantly turning left then right.

  He was smoking a cigarette. Oh, what I wouldn't give for a smoke right about now. Ah well, no point stressing about it, time for action.

  A Bit of a Cock-Up

  While he was blinded by the flare of the cigarette as he blew on the tip, I sprinted forward with Wand already
out and glowing brighter than Vicky's forehead after she had a workout.

  And then I tripped on a loose chunk of gravel and splayed forward, scraping my knees against the rough surface. My palms dug into the jagged road surface, leaving tiny stones under the skin, and I even cut my chin.

  I came to a stop in front of the startled man and looked up to say, "Hello."

  Game On

  "Motherfuck—"

  With limited options, I punched out and up with as much force as my position would allow. With maximum magical assistance, I landed a perfectly clean shot right in the knackers, like being hit with a baseball traveling at a hundred miles per hour.

  The man doubled over instantly, as we all do when assaults on our manhood are directed with such intensity, and as our eyes met I head-butted him so hard I got concussion and his nose split wide open.

  Dazed, but not as confused as the new eunuch, I scrambled up and tried not to let the shame of my ineptitude show. The man lifted his gun with a shaky hand as he tried to stand erect, but I knew how hard I'd punched him and that he couldn't see because of the broken nose, so I dodged to his side and slammed a punch right into the already ripped cartilage.

  He screamed, I danced like a butterfly, and then got behind and stung like a bee on steroids. Wand shot forward so powerfully in my hand I thought I would dislocate my shoulder, but he was looking after me, so all was good, at least for me. My magical partner in crime whacked across the dude's ear with a nasty slap that would smart like slamming into a sheet of ice. His head whipped sideways.

  I continued to jig around until I faced him, then sneered as Wand whipped out again and slapped him across the other ear.

  "Haha," I taunted, enjoying myself, then I kicked his gun hand and the weapon went flying off into the dark.

  As the guy tried to clear his vision and recover enough to fight, I ducked down then uppercut to his chin. He crashed backwards and I landed knee first on his stomach, knocking all the air out of him. I sat there on his ribs, bouncing like a kid having a ride on a donkey, and then poked Wand right up to his eyeball and said, "The last guy, Paul, who saw Wand this close, he lost his eye. He also had his arm blown off, then he was killed by having a knife poked through his other eye. How does that sound? You want some of that action?"

  The man shook his head carefully, eyes locked on mine.

  "Good, that's good. Which house?"

  "One street behind us, take a left, third house on the right," he croaked hurriedly, clearly valuing his life over payday.

  "How many inside?"

  "Three."

  "Men? Women?"

  "Two men, one woman."

  "Plus the girl?"

  "Of course plus the girl," he sneered.

  Wand darted forward, punched through his eye, his skull, his brain, out the other side, and deep into the road surface until my fist bumped against the eye socket.

  "Don't be cheeky." With a grunt, I yanked Wand out, cleaned him up, and with a nod of approval I let him rest up in the warmth of my pocket.

  With my palms hurting, my knees feeling like glass was under the skin, and my heart weary from the killing, I stood and went to get Steve and Vicky.

  Now we could begin.

  Suddenly Cautious

  Knowing from experience that it was easy to screw up once you thought you were winning, I was as careful returning to the hole in the fence as I had been going in. The guard could have been lying, although I doubted it, or someone could have come out for a wander and I'd trigger the alarm. So although I ached to run back and get this going, I remained stealthy and vigilant. Every action was annoyingly slow, but I remained a consummate professional, although I did consider running back and nicking the dead dude's smokes. Ah well, another opportunity lost.

  With my body screaming to run, to get this thing underway quick-smart, I fought back the urgency and eventually made it to the fence. Once through, I reached the car in seconds and was pleased to find Steve and Vicky emerge from the scrub like professionals. I'd never have known they were there.

  "You good?" asked Steve.

  "All good. There were two on guard, both taken care of. There's two men and a woman in the house. Sunshine is in a room somewhere inside, we'll have to find her once we get that far."

  "Let's go," said Vicky.

  "Wait," I said, trying to be gentle but knowing I had to make things very clear. "Do not go in all manic and rushing about like this will be easy. If we do anything stupid, they can hurt Sunshine. What will we do then?"

  "I'll rip their fucking heads off," growled Steve.

  "And risk them killing her? A simple gun pointed at her head and we're useless."

  Both paused to think, something they hadn't considered, assuming once we knew where she was this would be easy. The tough stuff hadn't even begun yet.

  "So what's the plan?" asked Steve.

  "The plan is we need to know where she is, what the set-up is like, and then decide how to extract her before they get to her. We need to draw them away so one of us can get Sunshine while the others deal with the kidnappers. So go slow, stay quiet, and find out what you can without them seeing or hearing us. Understood?" Both nodded. "This is it, guys. We cannot mess up. We have to get this right or they'll kill her. No screw-ups," I warned.

  "Why are you looking at me?" asked a petulant Vicky, hands on hips, eyebrows raised.

  "No reason. I have to look somewhere."

  "Good. So let's do this thing." Vicky marched off.

  "Um, Vicky," I said, rolling my eyes, "it's this way." I pointed to the fence.

  "I know that," she snapped, turning around then storming forward, arms swinging, arse wobbling.

  "That's my girl," said Steve proudly.

  I groaned inwardly. It would be a bloody miracle if anyone came out of this alive.

  Three Little Pigs

  Much as we wanted to run there and huff and puff and blow the house down, I gave the team a another pep talk before we went through the fence, warning them once more about the issues we faced and the danger Sunshine was in. One thing went wrong, she was either dead or we were. We had one shot at this and one shot only.

  "So do not screw it up," I warned.

  They both looked at me like I was an idiot.

  "You remember she's my daughter, right?" asked Steve.

  "I remember. But I know you, and I certainly know Vicky. You are impulsive." Again with the funny looks. "What?"

  "Arthur, you're the most impulsive person I know," said Vicky.

  "Apart from you and Steve, you mean?"

  "Um, maybe."

  "Exactly. So if I'm suggesting caution, then you two better believe we need it. When we get there, take it slow and easy. We have the rest of the night. They might be onto us by now, chances are that's likely, but we have them. They don't know what's happening, so we still have the element of surprise on our side. I check the front, you two go around the sides, meet up at the rear, then I'll come get you. Do not try anything on your own."

  "Roger that," said Vicky, saluting.

  "You got it, boss," said Steve.

  I studied them both for a moment, trying to figure out why they were following my lead and doing as they were told. They were being responsible as they wanted me to lead them, to take control. Steve knew his limitations. Only problem being, he didn't know mine. And I was out of my depth here and totally winging it.

  We ducked through the broken fence and I led the way, conscious of everything, unnerved by the timber skeletons, the ghost town vibe of unfinished roads and pavements that had yet to see foot traffic. These places gave me the creeps at the best of times. Disposable houses for disposable people, here to boost the coffers of those already rich, cheap construction disguised as something it wasn't. It'd be gone before the Victorian terraces that were still standing strong, it just didn't have the same curb appeal.

  No cats, no rats, no nothing. Dead inside, just like me.

  The air was humid, no breeze here, everything w
eighted and still, the only sound our breathing. Even that was muted, all of us trying not to make a sound. We took a circuitous route, just in case, and not because I got lost and couldn't remember what the dead dude had said, until eventually we came to the correct street.

  How did I know? Not because of the directions given, but because it was a veritable battleground of emotions vying for dominance. I could only imagine what it was like inside the house, and wondered how her captors hadn't killed each other by now or merely wandered off, forgetting why they were even here.

  One moment I was ready to run right in, Wand blazing, the next I felt meek and unsure of myself. Then I became angry, but soon that too faded and I was left empty of heart, uncaring one way or another, just another job. Only my pride kept me from going home and to bed.

  Steve and Vicky fared much the same judging by their expressions, but we fought it, and we won through, slowly attuning to the changes, letting them wash over but leave us unaffected. It was the knowing, that's what saved us. We knew we were being messed with, and once we acknowledged it and made peace with the vying emotions, the need to blurt out truths about one another, we could master it, lock this thing down. It was all a matter of awareness, about being strong, knowing our abilities gave us permission to be our true selves.

  Or maybe Sunshine sensed our presence and let us off the hook, or her vibrations didn't resonate with us as we were finally here. Her saviors, or her executioners. Only time would tell.

  Recon Time

  There was zero sign of life. If you walked by, you would never know there was anyone inside. No light, no noise, no nothing. We crept closer until we split up, and I moved beside the building, a mock-Tudor construction with cheap brick, and wood stuck on to make it look "olde worlde." It did not work.

  The windows were shut, covered with heavy black material of some sort on the inside, same upstairs by the looks of it. The door was solid wood, or fake solid wood anyway, and there wasn't even a letterbox to peek through, rather, there was a mailbox at the end of the short garden-to-be, currently little but building junk and clay—good luck growing much in that.