by C. C. Ekeke
Annie’s face was purpling, her eyes bulged and unfocused.
“You thought you were faster than me? Really?” Dan barked. “I’m gonna make you girls suffer!”
Quinn launched herself forward, slamming into Dan’s midsection. She wasn’t tall and didn’t weigh a lot, but she would fight with every ounce of fury to protect Annie.
Dan grunted in surprise and went sprawling, all three of them tumbling in a heap.
The gun Annie held went skidding toward the doorway. Crap…
Quinn swung a fist at Dan’s throat.
He caught her wrist and hip-tossed Quinn onto her back in one savage motion.
The metal floor drove the wind out of her painfully.
“Stupid bitch!” Dan snarled through clenched teeth and mounted Quinn immediately.
He grabbed her throat and squeezed. She choked.
From the corner of her vision, Annie lurched toward them. “Get off her!” She yanked Dan back by the hair.
He backhanded Annie across the jaw with lazy contempt.
As she went sailing backward, Dan refocused on Quinn. “Shoulda behaved, honey.”
Panic seized Quinn. Breathing was now impossible. She kicked wildly, straining to pry Dan’s chokehold off.
His grip was like iron. Black spots danced across Quinn’s fading vision.
Dan opened his sneering mouth to drain her. “Now I’m gonna suck that sweet little body dry—”
A deafening pop echoed off the metallic crate walls.
Dan released Quinn’s throat.
Suddenly, she could breathe again. Gasping and clutching her tender neck, Quinn looked up at Dan standing and swaying dangerously. Shock filled his face at the blood fountaining from his right shoulder.
Thunder cracked behind Quinn again, punctuated by a fiery flash. Dan’s head snapped back before he toppled off Quinn.
She scrambled away on her butt from the soupy brain matter pooling out the back of Dan’s skull. It took Quinn a few seconds to process that he’d been shot in the forehead. She turned slowly to face the source, expecting to view a terrified Annie holding the gun.
Yet her BFF was climbing to her knees several feet away, dazed and cradling her cheek.
An Amazonian figure stood in the doorway, pointing the firearm with the carriage and calm of a stone-cold killer.
It took Quinn several frightening instants to recognize Devon Strauss.
Katy peeked from behind Devon, as dumbfounded as Quinn felt.
“You alright, Quinn?” the military veteran asked, clipped yet controlled, eyes on Dan.
Quinn couldn’t formulate any response. All she could do was swivel her head from Dan’s corpse to Devon, back and forth, back and forth…
“Bauer,” Devon spoke with force. “Are. You. Okay?”
Quinn flinched, startled out of her shock. “Ye-yes.” Her throat was sore from Dan’s grip. “I can move.” She kicked Dan’s leg off of her and stood hastily. Yet she couldn’t stop staring at the corpse. A growing pool of dark blood was pooling around the back of Dan’s head.
Devon gave a terse nod and glanced at a slack-jawed Katy behind her. “Help Annie. Now.”
The brunette scurried toward Annie, helping their wobbly friend upright. Seeing how punch-drunk Annie was from Dan’s blow made Quinn less remorseful over his death.
Devon marched forward, and Quinn recoiled. The veteran grabbed her by the arm with her free hand to drag Quinn toward the exit.
“Let’s move, ladies,” Devon ordered like a drill sergeant. “Those other assholes must’ve heard all that—”
“What the hell is going on—!” The voice turned everyone’s head.
Martin stood at the doorway, thickset and bald. Seeing Dan’s body, his beady eyes widened.
Devon spun and dropped to a knee in a fluid motion, putting herself between Quinn and Martin.
Her gun barked once, catching Martin in the left thigh.
Quinn and Annie shrieked in unison. Katy gasped.
Martin doubled over, howling.
Devon fired again. The headshot flipped Martin head over heels. Dark red blossomed from the back of his skull and around his head.
Quinn’s stomach roiled as she viewed another murder. “Oh my GAWD!” she blurted out. Thank the Lord she hadn’t eaten anything.
Devon didn’t bat an eyelash. Clearly, she’d killed before in military warfare. “Keep it down and stay behind me,” she hissed and aimed at the door.
Quinn exchanged frightened looks with Annie and Katy, who were probably thinking the same thing. A serious group discussion about Devon’s military tenure was needed afterward.
For now, Quinn was more interested in leaving this hellhole alive. And Devon was their best bet.
Quinn, Katy, and Annie scurried after Devon, who stayed them with a raised hand.
The veteran slipped into the hall like a shadow, stone-faced as she whipped her gun around in both directions. “Hallway’s clear,” she whispered before motioning the others out of the cell.
Quinn’s heart was pounding so loud, her skull vibrated. They weren’t safe yet. Krista and Monica were still unaccounted for.
Devon gestured at another door farther down the hall. “Krista and Monica have to be there,” she murmured.
“If they’re still alive,” Katy mumbled, hugging herself miserably.
Quinn glared at her. But the defeated look in Katy’s listless green eyes curbed any rebuttal. Who knew what these siphoner bastards had put her through?
Annie had no such restraint, smacking Katy upside the head. “Don’t say that…ever.”
Devon silenced them with a sharp shush. “Keep moving.” She flattened against the wall, approaching this far door with a low center of gravity, her gun steady and straight-forward.
Devon moved like a killer. After watching her murder two men with ease, Quinn was genuinely scared of what her old friend had become. Annie and Katy trailed Devon without a word, their shivering body language very telling.
Quinn was about to follow, when the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She glanced over her shoulder.
The big, bearlike frame of Allan loped toward her furiously, fingers curled like claws.
Quinn gasped, “Devon!”
Two gunshots rang out from behind Quinn, scaring the daylights out of her.
Allan shuddered and jerked, two bullets to the chest. He collapsed, spasmed a little, and didn’t move. Katy and Annie clung to each other, sobbing.
Quinn stumbled back, forcing herself to breathe. More nightmare fuel.
Devon never flinched, her smoking gun aimed at Allan.
Quinn stared at the fresh corpse, her soul stinging from the horror of another death. “That was three,” Quinn blurted out for some reason. Her hands were shaking.
“I noticed,” Devon stated, prodding the corpse to make sure Allan was dead. “Unless there are more, only one left.” The quartet moved forward, occasional whimpers escaping from Katy and Annie. Quinn was close to losing it but knew that wouldn’t help the situation. Freaking out had to wait until they’d escaped.
Quinn’s heart leaped when they reached the door. She exchanged looks with Devon. For the first time since they’d broken out, the veteran appeared worried.
“Oh no…” Devon murmured.
Annie noticed this and frowned. “What now?”
Devon pointed at the door, unlocked and slightly ajar.
Quinn gaped. An open door meant Vishal was in the cell with Krista and Monica. In short, her friends might already be dead.
Swallowing as much terror as possible, Quinn had to see what lay beyond that door.
Devon glanced her way and nodded, clearly having the same idea.
The veteran kicked the door open and entered with gun drawn, shouting, “Hands up, motherfucker!”
Quinn scurried in after her and squealed, “Krista!”
Katy followed her and shrieked, “Monica!”
The Chinese girl lay curled up in fetal pos
ition on the far-left corner, motionless and pale. Quinn couldn’t tell from this distance if she was still breathing. Then there was Krista in the middle of the room, tears on her face.
Ashen-skinned Vishal was clutching Krista’s throat, using her body as a shield. His once perfectly slicked-back hair looked messy and askew.
“Drop the gun,” he ordered, “or I snap her neck!”
Quinn struggled not to dry heave. Monica might be dead, and Krista was about to die unless Devon surrendered.
Conflicting emotions warred across Devon’s face. Anger. Determination. Hesitation. Fear.
“You can’t!” Annie yelped, watching Vishal with teary eyes. “He’ll kill Krista anyway!”
“Quiet!” Devon snapped, then refocused on her target. “Don’t be stupid, Vishal.” Her voice softened as she tried appealing to this monster. “Your boys are all dead. You aren’t surviving this unless you release her.”
“Dev…” Krista whimpered. “I don’t wanna die.”
Her fear ripped Quinn’s heart out. She looked away to keep from bursting into a blubbering mess.
Devon offered Krista a sad little smile. “You won’t, baby. I promise.”
Vishal’s fingers twitched around Krista’s throat. She tensed, her dark complexion turning grey.
“Drop it!” Vishal roared. His eyes glittered with the manic energy of someone who’d commit unspeakable lows. “I’ll kill her! I’ll do it!” The tension in the air crackled, thick enough to taste.
After an eternity, Devon slowly lowered her aim. “I believe you,” she agreed, kneeling to put down her gun.
When Quinn faced the room again, Krista was crying. Annie and Katy wept.
Krista Smalls had just turned twenty-six. Quinn refused to believe that her friend’s journey in life was over. “Devon,” she pleaded. “Don’t do this.”
Devon snapped her gun up and fired low.
Vishal’s agonized roar flooded the room.
Krista broke from his reach and ran to her friends.
Quinn caught her in a bearhug, alive and unhurt.
Vishal clutched his bleeding ankle, dancing on one foot.
Devon popped up and fired again.
Quinn shrieked, as did Annie and Katy. Krista had buried her face in Quinn’s shoulder.
Vishal’s eyes glazed over, his throat a gushing red ruin. He collapsed without a sound.
“Oh god,” Annie cried, clinging to Katy. “Oh god!”
Quinn stared at Vishal on the floor. His breaths were slow and wheezing, in sync with the lifeblood pumping out his shredded throat. Devon approached, circling Vishal unhurriedly like a shark.
Who was this killer wearing Devon’s skin? Quinn tore her eyes away, focusing on Krista in her arms. “It’s okay, Kris. You’re safe.”
Annie and Katy powerwalked into the room, giving Devon and Vishal a wide berth.
“What if there are more?” Annie asked in a tremulous tone as she and Katy knelt to check on a still unconscious Monica.
“He would’ve said something,” Devon answered, crisp and confident. Satisfied that Vishal was dead, she lowered her gun and studied the three girls farther in the room. “Is Moni okay?”
Katy checked Moni’s vitals with practiced care. When Quinn saw her friend’s visible relief, the knot in her chest lessened.
“Breathing,” Katy confirmed, nodding. “Thank God.”
“Where did they put all our stuff?” Krista asked, untangling from Quinn’s embrace.
That drew reproachful looks from Katy and Annie. “We just got kidnapped, Devon murders four guys, and that’s what you care about?” the latter seethed.
Quinn waved the rebuke away. “To get our phones and call for help.” Her stare returned to Devon, and she couldn’t unsee her friend’s ruthlessness or body count.
“Jesus Christ, Devon,” she remarked louder than intended. “Jesus fucking Christ!” Quinn yipped at the accidental curse, clapping a hand over her mouth.
Devon shrank back, and her face fell. “You know things are bad when QB swears.”
While Katy stayed with Monica, Annie was on her feet nodding in agreement. “I know you were in the Army but…” She paused, eyes widening. “…that was some Jack Bauer shit.”
“And what was that thingy under your shoe?” Katy added.
Everyone turned to Devon. The army veteran let out a laborious sigh.
Observing the weight of whatever secret Devon carried caused Quinn to rethink her criticism.
“That ‘thingy’…” Devon began after several moments, reaching under her right shoe. “…is a tracking beacon.” She held up what looked like a black key fob for everyone to see. “Any minute now, federal agents will reach our location.
Shock jolted through the other four girls. Monica was stirring.
Quinn was lost. “Wait…wha…why?”
“Real talk, girls,” Devon began, locking eyes with Quinn, as if that granted her the strength to continue. “I’m not really an investment banker. That’s a cover.”
Quinn’s mouth fell open. Annie stared at Devon like she was a stranger. Krista babbled, but no words came out. Devon became so sad seeing the shift in her friends’ reactions. She must’ve felt so abandoned.
Is that how she felt after we stopped talking? Quinn wondered.
She couldn’t allow Devon to relive that pain in such a vulnerable moment. So she held Devon’s gaze without judgment. In fact, the horror of those siphoners’ deaths faded before a swell of gratitude. Without Devon, they’d all be either still imprisoned or dead.
Devon’s demeanor warmed from the silent support, while everyone else jabbered questions or accusations.
Beyond that, the sound of a helicopter caught Quinn’s ear. She frowned at the rusted ceiling as the sound grew closer.
Krista noticed as well. “Does anyone hear—?”
Chaos exploded through the hallway. All of a sudden, Quinn was stumbling back into the cell away from a dozen assault rifles at her face.
A squad of armored soldiers in black swarmed the cell, barking orders and gesturing their weapons menacingly. Quinn all but peed herself in terror.
“Hands in the air!” one or more officers ordered. “Drop the weapon!”
Quinn and her friends complied, raising their hands like their lives depended on it.
Devon never panicked, letting her gun clatter onto the floor.
One soldier stood beside Vishal’s corpse.
Monica was so out of it, she could barely sit up. Two soldiers quickly flanked her with guns drawn.
Another soldier, of Asian descent by his features, glanced at his teammates. “Sweep the perimeters.”
“I made the call,” Devon announced, raising her key fob calmly. “Junior Agent Devon Strauss from the Wichita branch,” she declared decisively, not one drop of fear in her expression.
The sight was mesmerizing, in Quinn’s opinion.
“These five girls are my friends,” Devon continued. “We were kidnapped by four siphoner hostiles. They possessed energy-draining and pheromone-based abilities. All killed by my hand.”
One of the other soldiers, a petite female barely taller than Quinn, approached, and brought up a scanner to Devon’s tracker. She turned to the Asian soldier and nodded.
Immediately, Quinn sensed the hostility from these strange, obviously government operatives plummet.
“Our apologies, Agent Strauss.” The soldier’s stare raked over Quinn and the others. “Glad you and your friends are safe.”
Annie lowered her hands, still trembling. “Better late than never,” she muttered.
The squad leader, who went by Cheng, either didn’t hear or ignored the snark. “We’ve been investigating the disappearance of some girls in NOLA,” he explained. “After getting word of a life-sucker’s involvement.”
The petite woman studied Devon closely. “We’ll need to debrief you and your friends.”
Devon’s expression was full of understanding. “Of course, but can
we not do this here?” She gestured at her baffled friends. “We’ve been here for what seems like hours.”
Cheng nodded. “We’ll set up transport.”
The bulk of the agents began casing the compound, a few staying behind to provide medical assistance for Monica.
Quinn walked up to Devon, massaging her pounding skull as the pieces started falling in place. “You’re a federal agent?” she asked softly.
“And you never told us?” Annie's question sounded bitter.
“I couldn’t,” Devon explained.
The other girls peppered her with questions, talking over each other.
Quinn was struggling to sort through her myriad of questions. The lack of identification on these agents’ attire made her next question was simple. “Which agency?”
A proud smile brightened Devon’s face. “I work for the Office of Superhuman Affairs.”
Chapter 7
“They found wallets and dismantled cells of eleven other victims,” Monica revealed, fiddling with her phone. After being fed nutrients and water, she was alert and talkative again.
Katy stared back. “Those sick fucks kept their victims’ personal belongings?” She turned away, visibly appalled. “I wanna vomit.”
Quinn shook her head. “Probably as trophies?” she guessed, too tired to engage. “Gross as that sounds.”
The sun was sinking into the silhouetted horizon when the OSA escorted Quinn and her friends out of the siphoners' murder house in the deep bayou. They’d been captives for close to a full day.
Several hours had passed since, which included a trip to the local OSA branch office and lengthy interrogations. Quinn told everything she recalled while in a grey room with opaque windows. From bar crawling on Frenchmen Street to meeting these siphoners to her kidnapping. At first, she felt like she was dying by reliving the full and horrible tale. But Quinn had to tell her truth so this happened to no one else. She made her heart go dead and her eyes go dry to continue. By the end, getting that all out had been a relief.
But seeing Annie’s drawn face afterward, Quinn realized the interrogation had made the trauma worse.
Currently, the girls had been returned to their Airbnb by a handful of OSA agents.