Code X: Episode 1

by M.R. Vallone

  “I recognize him from the news. Parks, weren’t you on a fast track to be the next MMA challenger? Kung Fu was your specialty.”

  Biggins speaks up. “Was is the word. He’s gonna get in fighting shape again. I’ll make sure of that,”

  “C’mon, let me show you your bunks.”

  Dubrowski interrupts, “Here Biggins. Call me when you need me to pick you up.” He tosses her a cell phone. Press 1, it’s preprogrammed.”

  “Thanks.”

  It’s morning; with the sun starting to break the horizon as Parks snoozes away on his cot. A bucket of cold water dowses him, thanks to Biggins.

  Parks jumps out of bed in shock.

  “Are you crazy?”

  “No! You might have been a pro athlete before, but this is war! You sleep with one eye open. You are going to train night and day to become a killing machine. Every thought, every strike is going to be for your survival. The only rules in this ring of combat are your rules, and that means the destruction of your opponent. You are targeted for elimination. Vicki is gone and we are the only ones who know who has her.”

  Eddie has a tent with camouflage netting over it that has a universal workout machine set up. Parks strains to do sit-ups. He’s spent.

  Biggins coaches him hard. “Come on Parks, two more, just two fucking more makes 50! Don’t quit.”

  Parks barely makes 49. Every vein, every muscle tells him to quit. But he’s going to make the last one if it kills him. “Fuck it. I…will…do it.” He hisses to himself with every ounce of will left.

  Eddie enters and gives the thumbs up to Biggins.

  “Okay Parks. We’ve got a special assignment for you, after you recover.” Eddie signals Parks to come outside.

  A little guy, Marco, almost a foot shorter than parks, of Spanish descent in cut off fatigues, stands inside a circle ringed by mercs.

  “This is a test of your readiness Parks. We want you to put Marco down. This is real, because he will try to take your head off. These guys are pros we will be going up against, military contractors. They’re all ex special forces, SEALs, and psychos, a collection of all the bad apples the military kicked out.” Biggins shoves Parks into the circle. “Now, show us what you got.”

  The men start cheering. Marco circles Parks.

  “I’m not going to fight him, I got him by almost a hundred pounds,” Parks protests to Biggins.

  Marco slaps a perfectly planted side kick against Parks’ head. Then kicks his nuts, and finishes with three speed punches to his face.

  Parks is knocked loopy and slow motion falls onto the ground as he kisses it hello. Marco raises his arms in triumph. The men cheer.

  “Yeah right. We should have tied a leg and an arm together to make it fair,” Biggins deadpans.

  Out in the jungle, Parks and Biggins run together down a well-worn trail. Parks is drenched in sweat. He looks like he’s run 100 miles. She runs circles around him to taunt him. He stumbles. She backpedals in front of him.

  “It’s been only three miles. Don’t quit.” She pulls her canteen, dowses him with water.

  Parks, “What’s next?”

  “Time to relax. I’m going to take you on the river walk.”

  Chapter 18

  The River Walk

  Parks follows Biggins down a trail, where the sound of a roaring, rushing sound of water gets louder with each step. They walk up a slight rise and as they come over the top, Parks sees a white water river. The river gushes with such speed on its race to the end; it roils and foams because of the downward slope.

  “This is your river walk?”

  “Yes. You are going to take a walk in the river with me Parks. This will be your measure of where you are in readiness.”

  “Hell, I know I’m not in shape. What’s this going to tell me? I’m ready to kill myself trying to tell me what I already know?”

  “Don’t worry Parks, I got your back.”

  Parks and Biggins stand on the edge of the bank of the river wearing two body harnesses. Their connecting lines are tied to a tree 50 yards upriver. The water’s calm for approximately 20 feet upriver before it falls over a 100 foot whitewater drop to where they stand.

  She latches herself. “Pull yourself up. Water doesn’t give a rat’s ass if you tire, or want to quit. It just keeps coming.”

  “What about helmets, life jackets?”

  “Gee, let’s call time-out during a firefight so Parks can run home and get his helmet. Every move we make down the road could put our lives on the line. You gotta dance with the devil to learn his steps. Watch.”

  She jumps off. All 135 pounds of her bounces like a cork. The river tosses her side to side. She keeps pulling. Her sinewy arms bulge as she reels herself through the water like a hooked fish. She disappears in an undertow.

  Seconds pass. Her hand shoots out of the water on a taut line. Her other hand comes up. Hand over hand, she reels herself up like she’s landing an easy fish she caught. She makes it through the last waterfall as every vein in her body bulges.

  Finally, she stands near the bank in calm waters. She waves him on.

  Parks jumps in. The river pounds him like a piece of balsa wood on a stormy ocean. He only gets two overhand pulls before the water rips his hands off the rope.

  The line snaps taut as he rushes down midway over the falls. Water pounds his head. He half drowns before he pulls himself upright. He only manages one overhand before he’s torn loose. Again, he struggles one pull, two -- no use.

  His line snaps tight, stretches out like a steel rod, then breaks! He free falls down the roaring river.

  He goes head over heels, slams off rocks like a lost bobber. He heads for a huge waterfall. The water shoots him out over a 60 foot drop off. Down he goes into the deep water pool below and disappears. After what seems like minutes...he pops back up gasping big gulps of air.

  A few minutes later, a winded Parks sits beside a very fresh Biggins

  “When you can make it through the river walk, Parks, you’re ready.”

  Chapter 19

  Henry sits across from Dr. Landau who paces back and forth behind his desk. “It’s been over three days and no sight or sound of Parks. Henry, don’t try to tell me one man can evade all of law enforcement, NSA, FBI and please choose any other useless three letter agency.”

  “Doctor, there has been nothing on Parks. Every transportation hub was sealed. He’s like a ghost who disappeared in thin air.”

  “It’s obvious he had help. Somebody is pulling some strings. I can’t go snooping around with Dr. Collins; she might get suspicious that he's still alive. Redouble your efforts.”

  Henry offers, “I’m using all our connections in the government. Parks is being treated like a rogue lone wolf. Trouble is the guy’s got a clean record. They really don’t see him as a threat, even with the evidence we planted. So, all they have in place is standard capture protocol.”

  Landau shakes his head, “That’s not good enough.”

  Henry continues, “They put out bolos and notified all departure modes of transportation. He’ll get caught at an airport or bus station, and, the cops will lock him up on a traffic stop, but that is all the effort we’ll get from them.”

  “We’re going to have to do it all on our own. Henry, you’ve got all the money you need at your fingertips. How else can I help you, help me?"

  “When Parks was young, he was an up and coming baseball player, who was cut because he couldn’t hit a curve ball. He took up Kung Fu, earning a first degree black belt in less than a year. He won his first three fights in the MMA. Then, his fiancé was killed while she was on an evening stroll with him. The press blamed him for not recognizing the danger they were in and accused him, an experienced fighter who tried to talk his way out of harm’s way.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Sir, let me finish his background information.”

  Landau nods to continue.

  “They sarcastically nick
named him the Gang Whisperer. He was not only blamed for her death, but, he blamed himself right into the nut house rehab for abusing prescribed drugs. It’s been five years since he last defended himself. He has no military experience and avoids fighting at all cost. Maybe you can profile him for me. Suggest a clue as to where he went.”

  “I’m transferring ten million dollars into your security account and there’s more where that came from. You are on an unlimited budget to find him fast. Use all resources,” Landau orders.

  “We can go subversive, start paying our off the grid assets. That does mean dealing with my old friends, black market mercs and worldwide outlaw groups.”

  “Fine, fine. You have my full backing. Parks is worth nothing to me alive, but extremely valuable dead.”

  Chapter 20

  Parks and Biggins stand out in a clearing, with backstops appearing back in the brush in front of a small hill. Silhouettes of people line the back side. “Okay Parks, time to get you familiar with your lifesaver, weapons class.”

  “I know how to shoot a gun.”

  “Wrong answer.” She unslings from her shoulder a rifle. “This is a HK416 assault rifle specially developed for Delta Force by German gunsmiths, Heckler and Koch. Mine is fitted with a noise suppressor or silencer for your info. When you learn how to use it, you can use any rifle. On my hip I’m carrying a Sig-Sauer P239 Sub-compact 9mm pistol used by SEAL Team 6. It’s light and accurate.” She takes it out and tosses it to Parks. He backs away from it and lets it hit the ground.

  “Geez. You toss it around like a tennis ball. What’s wrong with you?”

  “That’s your problem that you will overcome. The safety was on. Now pick it up like the tool it will become for you.”

  He picks it up and hands it back to her. She holsters it and hands him her HK. “Fire single shots at the heart in the first target. Always aim for center mass, take out your opponent.”

  He looks at the gun and flips off the safety. He fires two shots, and the gun barely makes any noise, just a soft whoosh of air each time. One hit, one miss.

  “Pretty shitty shooting mister. We will train everyday with both weapons from all angles and positions until you never miss a shot. Understand?”

  “Yeah.”

  Now Parks is with Biggins near a hanging heavy bag. They’re both wearing a light set of workout gloves.

  “The first exercise is going to help you get your foot speed back. You see that rope ladder stretched out on the ground, you follow my lead. The ladder’s space between each rung is the perfect size to place your foot in it. It’s plenty of room for large boots, but running down, placing each foot inside the square really takes skill. The object is not to touch the ropes or get your feet tangled up during the drill.”

  Biggins starts off with crisscrossing her feet, really toe-tapping her way down the 50 foot ladder. She did not touch a rung.

  “Your turn.”

  Parks starts off making it through the first two rungs okay. Then his feet get tangled and he stumbles like a drunk.

  “Again.”

  He begins all over and makes four rungs before tripping head over heels.

  “Watch me do it right.”

  She dances down one end perfectly, then reverses direction and goes back to the other end in an opposite crossover position with her feet on each step taken. Perfect execution of the ladder drill.

  “Okay. You practice this drill at least one hour a day. Now, let’s hit the heavy bag to get your hand speed and accuracy back.”

  “It’s going to take some time; I haven’t worked out professionally in five years. I’ve done only bike riding, light stuff.”

  In front of the hanging bag, Biggins takes a few kicks to Parks’ head. He parries her kicks. Then she takes a few strikes with her hands, again aiming for his head. He makes the correct defensive moves, stopping her thrusts.

  “Let me tell you something before I show it to you. What you just did was what we in Special Forces call Kung Fu shit. What you learned was a martial arts self-defense, to disable your opponent. Now you are going to learn offense. A killing offense. The way you were taught, you counter attack your opponent to disable him. I’m going to teach you how to counter with kill strikes.”

  “There you go with your kill moves again. You must have a wish to be known as Dr. Death.”

  “You have to understand the gang of thugs we will face. When we have to engage an opponent, you must secure the situation so we no longer have to worry about them coming back from a knockout to take us out. Their only objective is to kill you. The only tap-out option they will get from us that will keep us safe is when they lay dead at our feet. I do not want to go over this again with you. This is the last time, do you understand?”

  Parks bows his head, scratches the ground back and forth with his feet, then straightens to give her a whispered answer, “Understood.”

  “I couldn’t hear you. What did you say?” Biggins yells like a drill sergeant.

  “Understood!”

  “Come over here and be my standing dummy, dummy.”

  Parks moves over and stands in front of her.

  She grabs him and taps each side of his neck, “You have two carotid arteries that feed blood to the brain. Any strike at these babies with force can cause death. Next is the windpipe, which is the airway for breathing. It is totally unprotected with thin skin. This is very easy to crush with a sharp, edge on blow, like this.” She shows a karate chop with the flat of her hand and turns that into a flattened, knuckle out, front strike, both demonstrated in slow motion to Parks neck. “If you have a shot at a windpipe, take it, because your enemy will not be able to speak or yell. We call it the silencer.”

  “Next, you have the spinal cord, which controls all motor skills for the body. A sharp blow by knuckle thrust, kick or weapon to the center point in the small of the back is certain death to your opponent.”

  “You’re right. I was never taught to inflict death only to avoid it. Ours is a sport. You teach to destroy.”

  ‘Were going to be working out eight hours a day, you and me. Of course we will alternate speed and strength with cardio on opposite days.”

  “I’m okay with that, kind of bringing me back to my pro ball days.”

  “Now, catch this,” Biggins tosses a round object to Parks.

  He catches it. “Jeez, it’s a hand grenade!”

  “Toss it back. All’s good as long as the pin stays in.”

  Parks gingerly under hands it back to her.

  “This will get your hand speed back real quick. Hold your hand out in front of you, and then drop the grenade. Snatch it from falling to the ground by flipping your drop hand, and pluck it mid-fall. Then you’ll alternate hands and drops until you tire. Never pull the pin on it, or toss it away fast to avoid blowing your ass up. Watch the drill.”

  Biggins looks like a magician tossing, catching, alternating hand grabs so fast the grenade seems to stay in place as if placed on a mid-air table. Then, she pulls the pin, shows it to him, smiles then tosses it away in the brush, and flips the grenade into the jungle. The explosion blows a tree up out of the brush.

  “See what I mean,” she turns and is surprised to see Parks kissing the ground.

  “Mother Earths your new girlfriend now?”

  He looks up with a slow rise of his head, “You’re one crazy bitch Biggins.”

  She laughs.

  Chapter 21

  Vicki waits outside Landau’s office. She wonders why she was summoned for a meeting. The door opens and Henry stands aside as Landau smiles as he emerges to greet her. His Headquarters’ office has a huge, wall size, exotic fish tank which extends beyond the edges of his oversized desk behind it.

  “My dear, come in come in, how are you doing now?” He motions her towards a chair, where she sits down.

  “I’m doing as good as can be expected. It was comforting having my personal effects with me. But, memories came with them. The shock has diminished some.”
>
  “How have you found Alomet city? Are the amenities to your liking?”

  “Yes, my apartment is fine. And, it’s very hard being without Nick. My mind always relives the moments of our time together. But, I’m coping.”

  “My dear Dr. Collins, the reason I asked to see you, it’s been over three weeks since you arrived, and I must ask you to please put Mr. Parks’ death behind you. You must start working again. Life must go on. Immersing yourself in your work would be the best medicine for you. Perhaps I should put an exotic fish tank in your apartment. I find them quite soothing and they help me think through my problems” Landau comes from behind his desk and moves closer to her, uncomfortably close as far as she’s concerned.

  She stands up to answer him and block his advance, “They are quite beautiful, but no thanks. You’re right. I should look to the future. I’m ready to go back to work.”

  “Wonderful! Come, come my dear doctor. Let me show you the greatest project Alomet ever undertook, and, I might add, it’s all based on your research discoveries.”

  “That’s flattering, but I’m sure others deserve the credit for doing the hard research.”

  “We’re very excited. Your premise three years ago for identifying certain human genes for specific organs has been verified by our researchers. However, we are still struggling to apply the results to all individuals. It seems there are unknown combinations for each individual. The DNA is the same for all, but, I assume your theory of a billion combinations of gene molecules appears to be accurate. We just have not been able to make any progress on advancing to the next stage of identification.”

  “I do have some new ideas on breaking down and cataloging the gene identifiers I would like to study. I think the unknown has been staring me in the face as the known for some time. It is time to start working again.”

  “Excellent, let me give you the tour of your facility.”

  Henry opens the door as Vicki and Dr. Landau exit his office.

  Chapter 22

  A guard opens the door for Dr. Landau to enter a building titled Alomet Genetic Research Center. Vicki and Henry follow him inside. He walks by another security guard sitting at the front desk.

  Dr. Landau opens a door and steps aside for Vicki to enter first. When she steps into the room, it takes her breath away for a moment. She’s looking at an immense room, sparkling from the bright lights that showcase the computer stations, large wall screen monitors, DNA stations, electron microscopes, and adjacent clean, two stage glass walled rooms marked lab station one through lab station ten lining the walls. Add the busy people in white coats around the room, and you have a researcher’s dream lab.