by Dave Welch
I searched through the device now with an unyielding effort. The more I uncovered, the more I rummaged.
My words were replaced with vigorous breathing.
Now, the information on this device had reached a level beyond that of extreme classification. I started to question ever accessing it.
After minutes of self-debating, I continued my hunt.
I stumbled upon a folder, a sadistic treasure chest, fiendish in its labeling. The device itself brought an unsettling and startling vent of discomfort, but this folder took my vexation to another degree. The folder was abnormally colored black and suspiciously titled— “The Hit List,” I mumbled.
I hesitated for a second. Then, out of curiosity, I double-clicked the folder.
A window popped up, asking for a password.
I sat back in the rolling chair with slight discontent.
I was afraid to just start typing into the entry field. I could possibly lose the entire file due to some form of encryption.
I breathed roughly. Full of frustrated wind, I propped my elbows up on the edge of the desk, catching my head in my hands. I stared down at the keyboard for a moment.
Damn, I just got this promotion, and there was no way I was going to crack this code. I’m no hacker. Shit, I hadn’t been trained for that yet. But trampling over myself with mindless failure was not about to generate a password.
I wanted in on this file.
I sat up out of my depressed state and tried to pierce the computer screen with my convicting eyes. I glared for so long that I almost let the computer go to sleep.
I had to do something. So, I did the first thing I could think of.
I clicked the enter key.
The folder popped open.
As I engaged the computer again, my heart dropped into my stomach, scooting the rolling chair deeper into the desk. I couldn’t get any closer.
I saw names and names of people I had put away. Each name was accompanied by a folder that contained some very confidential and sensitive information. Every name was in alphabetical order: the last name first, first name last. I saw some of my old supervisors’ names on the list. There were people from all over the world on this list.
After about two or more hours, I dozed off. Then I reached the C section, and my deprived eyes washed anew. I felt as if I was about to see something horrific. And there it was…
Crane, Arlo.
The titanic freak of horrifying data overwhelmed me to the point of wanting to stop, but I just had to know more.
I scrolled, and I scrolled for about an hour until I grew weary. I needed to speed up this process.
I typed my name into the search engine…
Last name first and then first name last.
The computer parsed, loaded, and stabilized its systematic review. I hoped, in my favor, that no one would care to include my name within this list of criminals and officers.
And that’s when I realized, that if someone had the good and the bad comprised into one list, then there was definitely another motive to this madness.
What was the goal of this list?
And why was it formulated?
The device had become so unreal, so immorally sinful and vile that I dared to admit to my findings.
But then, my eyes held still. My stomach dropped even further into my pelvis. I stood abruptly, rolling the chair back to a clumsy blunder.
I had to vomit.
My breathing got panicky. I couldn’t open the folder, but I needed to. This must've been a typo.
“No!!” I cried in all appall.
Right then, my night had become something else.
I snatched the device from the computer in anger.
I wanted to hate it, but I couldn’t.
Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of a figure dashing across the balcony.
I stumbled back into the rolling chair.
I focused as hard as I could on the area outside the window. It could’ve just been the curtains swaying.
Nawl…
I ain’t crazy.
I tip-toed over to the sliding door, tucking the device into my nightgown pocket.
“Agent Woods? Lockley? This better not be some stupid ass joke!” I yelled, peeking down the hallway towards my room and back to the balcony door.
My heart pounded out of my chest. Did I really even see anything?
I kept replaying the image in my head, hoping to gain some sort of clarity, but I couldn’t put it together.
“Hey!!” I echoed, sticking my head out into the palace hallway. It was still empty and quiet as hell.
I shut my room door and locked it.
The thought to relay the occurrence to a nearby agent crossed my mind.
But I was too proud and stubborn for that. Just like in most cases, my quality of trust had dwindled away.
Man, I’m too tired for this.
“I’m spooked, alright!!” I shouted.
I rushed into the kitchen and grabbed a saber knife from the magnet rack above the sink.
I took the Prosecco bottle and seared it open.
Possssh!
The sound of the cork popping reconstituted my mind. I placed the saber knife on the kitchen table and picked the rock glass up from the sink.
While strolling over to the computer, my hands trembled as I filled the glass. I was spilling champagne everywhere.
I sat the glass of bubbly on the desk, then turned the bottle up instead.
I eyed the balcony as I gulped.
I lowered the bottle. Then I paused to study the corkscrew.
I monitored the window again while walking over to sit on the adjacent couch. I propped the bottle upon my knee, periodically taking an aggressive gulp. It was like I was drinking water.
I took out the device and looked at it again, then the balcony door, then the computer. The computer was innocent; however, I felt violated and disrespected. I gazed motionlessly at the screen until it dimmed into hibernation.
I smirked and shook my head in denial.
“That’s crazy,” I giggled.
I was tripping because I was tired and seeing shit. Nevertheless, agents who were eager to protect America surrounded me, propelling a glimmer of hope into my imagination.
I tucked the device into my nightgown pocket and buttoned it to a close, then gulped more of the champagne. It tickled on the way down as the cold liquid spilled about the corners of my mouth.
All I had to do was go to sleep. Nine o’clock would be here before you know it.
I sat for another moment, facing the balcony.
The thought of the master bedroom jogged through my head. I cautiously arose from the couch.
Stumbling to the suite’s door, I assured myself that it was locked. Then, I bumbled and teetered through the hall and to the master bedroom, hoping to forget all of this foolishness.
I was led to remedy my zonked body by the bed’s solace, my only genuine amity. The bed understands me. The union between the two of us was inevitable.
I set the alarm clock and clambered into the cold sheets of the king-sized bed. My body heat brought the silken fabric to a toasty chill. Lying on my side, I continued my vigil, peering into the doorway from the cozy confines of my bedding, inviting the slightest of movement.
I weakened greatly as I dropped the bottle of Prosecco to the smooth carpet. It barely sounded as it rolled under the bed.
Recalling my visit to the hospital, I began to tear up again. But my anger wiped my tears dry. I gripped the device in my pocket like I wanted to break it. I clenched it even tighter to keep the tears from resurfacing.
As my anger receded, the windows to my soul heavied. The fight to maintain my hawk-eyed devotion misplaced its spur.
My eyes closed without notice, and my voided dreams began, slowly but surely.
Wraith
Part 1
My alarm clock went off at 9:00 a.m. My eyes opened, still fixated on the bedroom’s doorway. I couldn’t remember what I
dreamed. That’s what I call good sleep.
I reached over to stop the alarm clock as the window shades opened automatically.
The sun’s rays rushed into the room, permeating through the darkness like a stream of frolicking kids running to awake their still exhausted parents.
I could feel the dim sunlight’s happiness spreading. Hell, I might even consider holding an intelligent conversation with Agent Lockley.
I stretched with a yawn.
Rolling to my back, I opened my eyes, and-
“AAAAggggghhhhh!” I screamed as a figure hurtled from the ceiling.
Fwooommm!
The sheets entangled my legs as I tripped to the floor.
I ogled to gain a better idea of what was happening.
The bed weighed down as if a bolder from space had landed in it. There was a mean katana piercing through the mattress, snarling a significant chunk of my hair.
The assailant turned to look me dead in the face.
This, in fact, was a ninja in all black. An ancient assassin, killing for the acceleration of skill. He was large with amazing sun red eyes, squinting with a perplexing yellowish glow.
The sight was frightening. His dominant anger scared me stiff, but a massive bucket of adrenaline took a shit in my backyard.
I leapt to my feet, snatching the sheets with me.
His sword raked through the fabrics like a slicing machine.
I fell to my back, immediately thrusting myself up.
I spun around as the fiend landed in front of me.
He swiped for my head as I slid through his legs.
He followed, with a downward thrust snagging a piece of my nightgown.
I took off into the hall, struggling to my feet.
He caved into the walls, blasting up turmoil behind me.
Swiping dastardly with that demonic blade, he destroyed ceramics, tables, and pictures with ease.
I ran even faster only to encounter his evil power, vaulting from wall to wall.
Entering the living room, he landed on the couch in front of me, jump kicking into the air.
I blocked, placing my wrist across my chest. The kick fractured my forearms, forcing me back into the hall.
I rushed back in to engage this high-paced fray.
He swung his sword to chop off my head.
I ducked and countered with a punch to the midsection.
“Ya!” I grunted.
He watched as my hand reduced to mush.
I had broken several bones again.
The pain faded fast as we danced violently across the floor.
My bones cracked and shattered with every strike I made.
Catching my fist in mid-swing, he judo tossed me over his shoulder.
“Agh!!”
Kabang!
I smashed into the coffee table, crushing pieces of fruit everywhere.
The sound filled my ears as I looked up to him, thrusting his sword down.
“YA!” He mumbled.
As I rolled to recovery, he pierced through the floor.
The impact of death jolted the room as I attacked with all my strength.
The eye-soring monster countered my every move, punching me in the stomach. I zapped across the floor.
Croom!
I crushed with force, dismantling the wall of sheetrock behind me. Easing into the room next door, I latched on to the remaining structure, plunging myself back into this deadly brawl.
He lunged his sword for my gut.
I sidestepped as he stabbed into the wall.
Snatching the clamp from my hair, I cut into his face and neck as he plucked his sword free.
Clashing metals, bumps, and crashes bane the once faultless room as I cut a swift swipe to his neck.
He snatched me up by the head and flung me like a shoebox. I hurtled through the air, reaching for the front door.
Crash!
The bookshelf exploded when I smashed through, bouncing off the wall and onto the kitchen floor.
I slid to a halt…
Blood spewed from my mouth, covering the tiles as I bawled for air. I sat up, still reaching out for the doorknob. I was clearly facing the wrong way.
I felt like I had been run over by a Zamboni machine.
He must've punctured my lungs.
Just then, my vigor returned with zest.
Batting my eyes, I turned to face my opponent with a shake of my head, regaining focus and energy.
I coughed bloody.
He studied my every move from the kitchen entrance as I stood spitting.
Just then, a knife unsheathed my eyes to a gleam.
I ducked so hard I fell back to the floor.
And the blade of a nunchaku lanced into the cabinet beside me.
From my crouching position, I gawked…
There stood another one, a whole nother assassin.
She was gorgeous.
Her lips and facial structures were perfectly aligned. Her eyes were unnaturally large, brown and red with a twirling, twinkling varnish of failed blinking. Her hair was like a bright sun, shaped into two large afro puffs. She was a stallion, built like an Amazonian machine of war.
She stood about 5’6”.
But her clothing was very odd. I hadn’t encountered her form of fashion in all my years. And there was obviously something wrong with her blank expression, her overall texture. Her skin… It looked crystallized, or better yet, pixelated.
She yanked her bladed nunchaku out of the wall and began a dangerous introduction of martial artistry. The female held her beautiful but troubling establishment with the nunchakus up in front of her. Her stance was strong, and her pose was perfect. It was almost mechanical in essence.
I thought that the other assassin was near the main entrance. But somehow, he ended up in front of me. I couldn’t tell exactly, but it seemed as if he was moving in an enchanted way.
Creeping in a crouching position, he approached like a lion in the thickets.
So distracted by a hissing noise, I didn’t notice his bewitching speed. A few more inches and he would’ve been in my face.
How was he doing this?
I focused on him as if I could capture his movements, but he froze. Then, they both stared with intensity as the hissing continued.
Sssssssssssss…
I glanced to the front door as they moved without moving. The sight was so fazing.
I knew I was jacked up.
I didn’t give a fuck.
“Great.” I blurted with a sardonic smile.
I stood boldly, snapping the clamp back into my hair. It was useless. I wiped the blood from my mouth and aggressively blew the rest of my hair out of my face.
I got cocky, popping my neck. I taunted my aggressors.
“Come and get me,” I stated.
They circled about like a couple of Velociraptors predicting the kill. They were so meticulous in their movements and timing. The attack itself became hypnotizing.
Sssssssssssss…
Then it came!
They swiped lethally.
I dodged the male assassin, but that bitch was too fast!
She sliced across my forehead as the first assassin engaged.
I roundhouse kicked him in the face, fracturing my heel.
The 2nd Assassin swung her nunchakus as I somersaulted out of the kitchen and into the living room.
I landed shy of the front door. As I ran over to it, they came like a hell wind, sedating my leave.
Defying gravity with synchrony, they raced up the walls as I clinched the doorknob to a rigid turn.
They lunged from the partition, attacking with class.
The 1st Assassin cut my chest open, backing me into the computer desk.
The 2nd Assassin sliced for my head as I ducked, reaching for the rock glass.
I dashed the bubbly in her eyes, chucking the glass away.
Sparks emitted from her face as the 1st Assassin sliced hairs from my head.
He stabb
ed with his sword as I spun with a dodge.
I ducked into a sprint for the door.
Reaching out for the knob, I missed again as he German suplexed me to the floor.
Whom!
The surface cracked as I rolled overhead and to my feet, jetting for the door again.
The 1st Assassin jump kicked me in the chest. I blocked, with my frail structure fracturing.
We engaged with high-paced striking as the beauty queen ‘remodeled’ the living room.
He countered every attack, gripping me by the wrist to flip me back into the kitchen.
I crushed through the wall and slipped to the bloody floor.
I stood quickly, yanking two cast-iron skillets from a pot rack hanging above the kitchen island.
Whirling around, I held each skillet firmly by the handles as the bones wiggled in my hands.
I needed a minute… The cut in my chest was deep.
The 1st Assassin entered the kitchen.
This was far from over.
It was then when I suspected that the mercenaries were inhuman. Their unfeasible acts denounced all Earthly principles.
But I was determined to win. If I couldn’t get both of them, I was surely gonna get him.
He fucked up my morning.
“C’mon!” I shouted.
He shot over, instantly engaging in combat.
The skillets slowed me as I blocked his demonic attacks.
Whacking him in the face with the cookware, the pan shattered on impact.
The sound echoed as the vibration shook my grip loose.
It stunned him as I struck him again with the other skillet.
He blocked, swinging his blade towards my throat.
I staggered back into the sink, reached out to turn on the water.
He slashed into my forearm.
“Ahhhhh!!!” I screamed, snatching my hand back.
He kicked me into the refrigerator.
My ribs snapped as I whirled around, grabbing the fridge handle. I opened the door, and he stabbed through the fridge frame, shoving me back.
He pinned me into the corner as I reached over, whacking him repeatedly across the head with the skillet.
He freed his sword, cutting the skillet in half like a fire searing through butter.
I discarded the broken skillet and reached overhead.
Swinging the freezer door open, it struck him in the face.
The impact dented the door closed.