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This is the first draft of a story that is complete. (10/26/2020) |
| “Hopefully they’ll be okay,” Genel said thoughtfully as the other truck in front of us turned north at the first interchange. Genel and I stayed westbound on Stoney Trail. “Might not mean much coming from me,” I told her, trying to be assuring, “But from what I’ve seen so far, Knight and Josh can handle themselves just fine.” Genel gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Yeah. I guess.” Knowing she’d probably worry about them no matter what I said, I kept quiet. The two of us drove down Stoney Trail in silence for a minute. Genel had to maneuver our vehicle around abandoned vehicles, so the ride was far from smooth. “Chrissy.” I glanced to my left at Genel, whose eyes remained on the highway ahead. “Yeah?” “About the distress signal. Do you think it’s… odd?” “Odd?” “Well, maybe not ‘odd’, but… I’ve got a bad feeling about it.” I stared at her intently. Genel nipped on her lower lip but kept her eyes forward. “It’s hardly good news,” I agreed, “If another C.O.S. operative sends out an S.O.S.—” Genel shook her head almost dismissively. “I know that. We should take care of our own whenever we can. I get that. I’m talking about the timing.” I clearly didn’t think about the distress signal nearly as much as Genel did. I agreed that we needed to investigate the source of the signal, but realistically we couldn’t put off this CFB Calgary recon. Knight was right: with Major Steele gone, his forces would be on alert. The prisoner transfers intel we got would lose all value if the enemy changed its schedule with its head of operations missing. But now that I thought about the timing, I did think it felt a little coincidental. “Yeah, it’s inconvenient,” I commented. Genel exhaled deeply. “Sure. Or convenient. But it’s more than that. I get that the C.O.S. loves its compartmentalization, but I can’t help wondering where those other agents were all this time. We don’t have eyes and ears everywhere, but until this morning I thought we were the only team in the city.” “Yeah, I thought so too.” “I’d like to think we’d have heard something. It’s not just that, either. We successfully kidnap Steele and we’re about to find out what the enemy’s up to with those prisoners, and now we get a distress call? Doesn’t that… I don’t know, kind of creep you out?” I took a moment to consider Genel’s thinking. “Now that you put it that way, yeah. It all seems really strange.” “Right? It’s been gnawing at me all day.” “Did you want to investigate the distress signal?” Genel sighed. “Yes and no. Between you and me, Chrissy, I think we got the easier job.” “What makes you say that?” “We beat this information out of Steele. Yeah, it’s not much to go on but according to Ian, Steele didn’t want to give this intel out. We know something about this CFB Calgary thing. The distress signal came out of nowhere and we have no idea what to expect about it.” “You think it’s a trap?” Genel hesitated momentarily before replying. “If I was sure it was, I wouldn’t have let Ian and Josh go there easily. I’m just saying, all these happening at once makes me nervous.” I didn’t respond to that but I dwelled on it all the same as Genel drove us further west down Stoney, then turned north onto Deerfoot Trail and eventually onto Crowchild Trail. Genel parked the truck behind the Central Memorial High School, which was nearly six kilometres to the south of the base. From there, we travelled the rest of the way on foot. We stayed away from Crowchild Trail just in case, instead taking the smaller roads alongside the highway until we were practically across the highway from the southern end of the old Army base. At this point, Genel pointed out a multi-building complex close to our position where we’d be able to at least scope out the base from across Crowchild Trail. We entered the deserted Manor Village retirement home, climbed up to the top floor, and located some stairs that took us up to the roof of one of the western buildings. Once we were up there, Genel immediately put down her pack and rifle, then dug out a pair of binoculars and trained the device west and northwest, scanning the base ahead of us. Even without the benefit of magnified optics, I could clearly see that CFB Calgary was buzzing with activity. A large portion of the base was well-lit by the same kind of floodlights I saw back at the South Health Campus, though most of them were concentrated near the air traffic control tower further north along the airstrip. Most of the activity in the base was concentrated over by that tower, where there were several dozen US Army soldiers milling about, close to several Humvees and even a couple of armoured troop carriers. The runway itself was mostly clear but close to the northern end of the strip stood two VTOL craft still within the reach of the floodlights’ illumination. “Hey Chrissy, want a look?” I glanced to my right at Genel, who was holding out her binoculars to me. I took the device and used it to scan the airfield. With the help of the binoculars, I was able to further estimate the numbers of the enemy near the tower and by the runway. There had to be over fifty or sixty of them over by that portion of the base. Most of them were moving cargo from the vehicles and bringing them to the tents set up beside the tower, while some appeared to be simply on standby for something. The prisoner transfer, no doubt. I panned the binoculars further south toward the cluster of three- and five-story buildings closer to the south gate of the base. There were fewer soldiers in that part of the base. The gate was guarded by three soldiers by a sort of checkpoint trailer, and I could tell right away I wasn’t going in that way unless I was willing to make a mess and neutralize the guards. “What’s the plan?” I lowered the binoculars, finding Genel’s eyes meeting mine and her face set with an attentive, serious expression. Up to this point, I’d mostly followed Knight’s lead. Genel’s question brought me back to the reality that in Knight’s absence, I was in charge as the team’s second-in-command. The look Genel gave me as she waited for my response was sobering. If anything were to happen to Knight, leadership of Shadow would shift unto me. Am I really ready for that? I took a deep breath. “We’ll stick to our strengths. You stay up here and provide overwatch. I’ll do the sneaking in there.” Genel stared at me in that sort of way that told me she had reservations about this plan, but whatever concerns she had, she kept to herself this once. “You got it.” She nodded. “What do you think? Is this rooftop a viable position for sniper cover?” Genel lifted her SRS up, training it west and bringing her eye up to the mounted scope. She fiddled with the dial that adjusts the view magnification and took a moment to survey the area visually available to her. “It works,” she replied, lowering her rifle and looking back at me. “There are some blind spots, mostly around the cluster of buildings south of the airstrip, but otherwise I could be in worse spots.” “Okay. That’s how we’ll handle this. I don’t expect I’ll need sniper support, but you can update me on enemy positions from here.” “Roger that.” Genel put down her weapon and checked her TACPAD. “It’s 1903. We need to update the guys.” “Right.” She opened a channel and pressed a finger to her earpiece. “Archer here. Just making the hourly status update.” Knight’s voice came through on comms. “Copy. Report.” “We just made it to CFB Calgary,” Genel replied, “We’re maintaining our distance for now and posting up across Crowchild Trail. Got an hour to kill before the prisoner transfer.” “Good. What do you see?” “Looks like a convention out here. Estimate fifty plus hostiles gathered mostly near the old air traffic control tower by the airstrip. Got about a dozen Humvees parked by the south gates. Lighter concentration of contacts outside the Currie Barracks and the nearby buildings.” “Roger that. Looks like the major’s intel is good.” “We’re getting comfortable for now, scoping out an infil and exfil point.” “Understood. What’s your plan?” Genel glanced at me fleetingly, to which I nodded back in response. “Angel decided to infiltrate alone while I hang back and provide overwatch from the rooftops.” Knight paused for a few seconds, then replied, “Copy that. How’s your view of the base from your position?” “Optimal,” Genel answered promptly, “I can see most of the base from this roof. There’s some blind spots over by the cluster of buildings around the Currie Barracks, but the parking lot and all of the airstrip are clearly in view to me from here.” “Roger that. Angel, are you there?” “Affirmative,” I replied to him quickly. “Are you sure about infiltrating solo?” I met Genel’s eyes, which were looking sideways at me. I’d snuck my way into a fair few enemy hideouts and bases before, but the stakes had never been this high before. I was used to eluding terrorists and criminals, not armed forces personnel. The latter were significantly more threatening because of their numbers and training, but… They’re locking up civilians and subjecting them to harsh conditions. They’re killing innocent people, or at least planning to. Aren’t those the same things terrorists do? Taking a deep breath, I answered Knight: “It’s better to have Archer up here calling out enemy positions to me when I’m down there, if I need them. Besides, the enemy is less likely to detect one intruder than two.” Knight paused again, then said, “All right. You’d know your situation better than me. Just be careful in there.” “Copy that, Knight.” “How about you guys?” Genel spoke again, “How are you two doing?” “We’re not at the distress signal’s coordinates yet. Goliath and I are having a break at the East Hills Mall.” “Understood. It is a bit of a walk, no?” “It is. We’re doing fine, so don’t worry.” “Copy. Talk later, then?” “Right. Stay sharp, both of you.” “Likewise. Archer out.” Genel lowered her hand from her ear and gave a small sigh. She then looked at me again. “We’ve got a bit of time to kill. Do you want to head inside, keep warm for a while?” “What will you do?” I asked her. “I’ll stay up here, keep my eyes on the base.” “All right then, I’ll stay up here too.” Genel picked up her SRS. “You don’t have to.” “I don’t.” I smiled a little. “But I will.” She eyed me shrewdly for a moment, then smirked slightly. “You’re the boss.” Genel and I stayed on the roof of the retirement home for another half hour. When 1940 came, I stood up and pulled my backpack on. “All right, time to get down there,” I said, detaching my Vector from the side of my backpack. Genel mounted the barrel of her sniper rifle on the ledge. “I’ll be up here. Just let me know if you need support,” she said to me. I nodded. “If I do this right, I won’t need any. But thanks, Genel.” “Don’t mention it. Watch yourself, all right?” “Will do.” I turned around and headed back down the stairs to the floor below. I descended a different staircase until I got to the ground floor, then left the building and circled it until I was heading west across Crowchild Trail. I reached the base’s eastern fence in five minutes, where I scouted it for another five until I found a small break in the fence just big enough for me to slip through by crawling. “Archer, you copy?” “I copy.” “Found a gap in the fence. I’m using this as my infil point. Sure beats trying to sneak through the south gate.” “What gap? I don’t see—” I moved aside to give her a clear view. Genel did not speak for a moment. Afterward, she commented, “That’s no gap. That’s a hole. Can you even fit in there?” “Being compact has its advantages.” “I just had a mental image of Goliath getting stuck halfway in trying to fit into that. Thanks.” I stifled a chuckle, then unclipped my backpack. I shoved it and my submachine gun through the break in the wire mesh. I then got on my belly and crawled through. Part of the fence snagged on the back of my parka, but otherwise I made it through with no problems. As I rose to a crouch, I clipped my backpack on and picked my Vector back up. “I’m in,” I reported over the direct channel. “Nice. Be advised, I’m seeing headlights approaching from the north. Looks like the transfer is going ahead.” I briskly walked over to some nearby garbage bins and stayed behind them. My immediate surroundings were fairly dark, but to the west and northwest were the Currie Barracks and several other buildings with plenty of streetlamps illuminating their immediate perimeters. To the north was the airstrip. The space between me and the airstrip was practically just snow and grass, mostly open ground save for a couple of fences and a storage shed by the south end of the strip. “Roger that. Keep your sights on the convoy. I want to know who’s meeting the US Army escorts. I’ll be going radio silent for a little while but keep me updated.” “Wilco. Good luck.” I got off my haunches and checking to make sure I wouldn’t be seen on my approach, I took off at a brisk jog toward the nearest building to the fence. There were three guards hanging around the front of the five-story building, so I cut left quickly and eventually made it to the building’s east wall where there was more shadow cover. I hugged the wall and maneuvered around to the south wall, where I found one soldier leaning against the wall just a few metres ahead of me. He was under a streetlamp, looking toward the south fence. A lit cigarette dangled between his fingers. In his other hand he was holding an M4 carbine loosely. I glanced around and after finding no other soldiers within sight of the smoking infantryman, I looked around my feet for a pebble or twigs. Picking one stone up from the ground, I ducked back around the corner and stuck to the east wall. Flipping the fire mode dial of my Vector to semi-auto, I peeked around the corner and lifted the stone in my hand. Taking careful aim, I lobbed the stone in the direction of the soldier. Fortunately, the stone landed where I wanted it to: just a few centimetres to the left of the soldier smoking underneath the streetlamp. The stone bounced off the wall and clattered with a discreet but fairly audible noise as it came to a stop right by the soldier’s boot. I drew my entire body back behind cover but kept enough of my head poking out to use one eye to watch for a reaction. The soldier reacted to the sound of the stone bouncing off the wall with a rather slow glance down at the stone in question. After a second, his head rose and he glanced in my direction. Keeping still, I waited for the man to turn fully toward me. He eventually began to walk toward me, dropping his cigarette butt and grinding it underneath his foot. He raised his rifle a little in both hands and began to walk toward me. “Is anyone there?” he called out toward the corner I was hiding around. “The hell are you tossing rocks over here for?” I waited until he was outside of the lamp’s range of illumination, then leaned out of cover and aimed my Vector at him. Since I was in relative darkness, the soldier didn’t immediately notice me popping out from around the corner even at five or so metres away. Using his silhouette from the light behind him, I placed the reticle of my holographic sight on top of his head and pulled the trigger twice. A pair of suppressed shots whispered out in the darkness. The first round pinged off his helmet, startling him momentarily. The second round fortunately caught him right at the top of his nose bridge. When that round connected, the man crumpled to the cement path like a puppet whose strings were cut all of a sudden. I carefully moved around the corner and made my way over to the body of the soldier. I rolled his bulk away from the wall and into some knee-high shrubs off the path. The shrubs weren’t that thick, so given enough light the body would be easily discovered. Still, by then I would be long gone for the discovery to matter. “Angel,” came Genel’s cool voice in my ear. “The convoy has arrived. The trucks are offloading the prisoners now. Looks like they’re being herded further north along the airstrip. I see a couple of Ospreys stationed there with their ramps open.” I pressed against the south wall of the building I was next to and dropped to a crouch. I tapped my earpiece. “Understood. Anything else?” “There’s someone meeting the US Army escorts halfway. Uniform and gear looks… different. This one’s wearing plain black instead of navy blue. Looks like a… coat, with a hood up. No weapons on them as far as I can see. They almost don’t even look military. Looks like a male judging by their height and build.” I recalled what Knight told us about Steele’s mysterious contact. “Is anyone with this one?” “Affirmative. There are at least… three other soldiers standing outside the Osprey ramps. Their uniforms and gear are different from the Army’s. Weapons, too. They look like they’re there to receive the prisoners. Whoever they are, they’re not US Army.” If they weren’t US military, chances are they might be connected to the people Steele was reluctant to tell us about. “Maintain eyes on that one. Update me on what he does and where he goes,” I said, “I’m making my way toward the buildings to the west. See if I can’t find a spot with a better view of the airstrip.” “Roger. Be advised, I won’t have visual on you if you go further west from your current position. Watch your back.” “Got it.” I stood back up and stuck to the south wall of the building as I cautiously made my way further west. A few guards came close to my position a couple of times, but I used my size and the available shadows to my advantage to elude them. In another few minutes I had successfully passed three of the buildings along the south fence. There was only one building left: the Currie Barracks that stood along the west fence, about a hundred metres away from the one I was hiding behind. “Angel, the guy with the hood is heading toward Currie Barracks.” I peered around the corner and looked toward the front of the barracks. The building was three stories tall, constructed mostly in cement painted white. Over the course of history it must have been renovated repeatedly when it became too old, but since the base’s final closing the building had been left to age freely. Paint had peeled in numerous places along the barracks’ exterior and the glass windows that were still intact were dusty and murky. The building gave off a haunted vibe, as though it had plenty of stories to tell about what took place within its walls over the years. It would have looked completely abandoned were it not for the lampposts flanking its main entrance, illuminating a lone figure coming down the path that led to its front doors. At a glance from this distance, it was clear to me that this figure was the one I had previously instructed Genel to observe. His clothes were quite distinct from those of the soldiers belonging to the US Army. This figure, whom I surmised was a man, wore a rather long overcoat that did appear to have a hood that was pulled up and hung over the wearer’s face. From what I could see, he wasn’t armed. His hands were hidden in the pockets of his coat, and he moved casually, leisurely, mounting the couple of steps up to the Currie Barracks’ front doors as though he had all the time in the world. I watched from my hiding spot as the hooded man reached out for the barracks’ door handle with one hand and pulled the door open. Within a few seconds, he vanished into the dark building. I hurriedly pressed on my earpiece again. “”Archer, sitrep on the prisoners.” “They’ve all been brought aboard the two VTOLs on the far end of the airstrip. The Ospreys look ready to lift off, but they’re keeping to the ground for now.” “Our possible contact has disappeared into the Currie Barracks.” “I saw. What are you going to do?” What I really wanted to do was bust those prisoners out from captivity. I didn’t know for what purpose they were being flown presumably out of the city, but if my experience at the Calgary Stampede was anything to go by, I couldn’t imagine the reasons being good. But… I gnashed my teeth together in frustration “How many rounds do you have?” “Almost forty. Why?” .I did some hasty math. There had to be around sixty or so hostiles near the airstrip alone. I estimated about a quarter of that number closer to these buildings I was by. I’d evaded all but one of them so far. There were a couple more guarding the south gate behind me. I knew the base had a north gate as well, so it was possible to say at least another two or three were stationed over there. What about these buildings? Are there any of them inside? How many? Whichever way I sliced it, I was looking at upwards of seventy-five hostiles to contend with. But if Genel could down one hostile with each of her rounds, while I… I patted my vest and belt for my available magazines: four thirty-round magazines for my Vector, not including the one already loaded in the gun itself; four fifteen-round magazines for my CZ Shadow 2, total. “Archer, can you kill one hostile with each round you’ve got?” “What are you—” “Can you?” Genel fell silent from the either end for a few seconds. “Sure,” she replied eventually, her tone stiffening noticeably, “If they all stand still in a nice, straight line for me. Angel, what are you thinking here?” “I’ve got enough ammo to get the rest of them.” “Angel. Listen, even if I magically managed to take out thirty-five of them, you’d still have forty of them at least after you.” “I’ve got enough am—” “No, you don’t.” Genel’s voice took a stern turn all of a sudden, though she still sounded fairly patient. “They’ve all got enough ammo for you, but you don’t have enough for all of them. Think this through.” “Believe me: you can’t save everyone.” I curled my hand into a fist and hammered the outside of the structure I was taking cover behind. I hated that Genel was right. I hated that Knight was right. I hate that I can’t do anything. My fist shook slightly as I pressed my glove against the stone exterior of the building next to me. “Chrissy.” Genel spoke to me more softly, kindly, and used my first name over the comm link. Ordinarily, this would be considered a breach in communications protocol, but I didn’t care about protocol at the moment. “Chrissy?” “I’m… fine, Archer.” She paused for a second, then said, “Just get intel and get out. I promise, we won’t let this go.” I took a deep breath, inhaling the cold winter air deeply before letting out a wisp of warmth through my mouth. Replacing my hand around my Vector’s grip, I nodded to myself. “Right.” “Are you going to be okay?” “Yeah.” “Okay. What are you going to do?” I peered out from cover and looked out at the Currie Barracks. “I’m heading inside the barracks. There’s got to be answers in there. Our contact in the coat should have some intel lying around if he’s regularly using the base as a collection point.” “All right. Just be careful, Angel. I can’t cover you when you’re in there.” “Understood. I’ll stay on my toes. Going radio silent again for a few. Angel out.” I checked my surroundings again for nearby patrols. A duo of soldiers walked by the front of the barracks and headed off in the direction of the airstrip. Once they were a good distance away and looking in the opposite direction, I broke from cover and jogged across an expanse of open garden until I was nearly at the edge of the barracks’ perimeter, which I gauged by taking into account the area around the building illuminated by the lampposts. I took cover behind an old, leafless tree and surveyed the immediate area again. Apart from the two soldiers who had passed by earlier, the building’s exterior was clear. In fact, with how quiet this part of the base was, I was tempted to think the soldiers were either ordered to stay away from it or were wary of hanging around here. There weren’t any noises I could detect from within or around the barracks. When Shadow Team had the briefing earlier today, I learned that this building in particular had four ways to get into or out of it. There were two main doors – front and back on the east and west walls, respectively. The other two were smaller maintenance access doors on the north and south sides. The south maintenance door was visible to me from my position, just several metres away. The door was lit by an overhead porch light though, and the south and east walls were visible to anyone by the buildings I had just passed earlier. Back door, then. Once again checking to see that no one was around or looking my way, I crossed the remainder of the garden and skirted around the edge of the southwestern lamppost flanking the building until I was behind the barracks and out of sight of the other buildings and the airstrip. I headed for the rear exit of the barracks, mounted the porch, and gingerly put my hand on the door handle. I slowly, gently pulled at it, starting to breathe a sigh of relief when it gave way. The jarring creak of the door on its hinges however, made me hold my breath again and freeze. I listened through the crack in the door for any sounds from anyone inside. When none came but a faint, dry draft coming from the hall immediately past the door, I steeled myself and pulled the door open some more. The resulting creaks sounded obscenely loud, but there was no point taking trying to find a different route inside at this point. When the door was open enough, I squeezed through the gap and found myself in pitch blackness. The inside of the building had that distinct, musty, cobweb smell typical of buildings that hadn’t been occupied in years. I attached my submachine gun to the side of my backpack, then carefully drew my CZ Shadow 2 pistol from my thigh holster. I produced a small torch from my ballistic vest’s pocket and with my non-dominant hand flicked it on and shone the light around. I found myself in the back of a large welcome hall. A semi-circular receptionist’s desk made out of faded wood stood in the middle of the hall several metres ahead of me. On the other side of the desk, across the wide room, was what appeared to be the barracks’ front entrance. To either side of the receptionist’s desk were corridors leading north and south with stairwell access to the second and third floors. I stayed still for a moment, listening for any sounds coming from the same floor I was currently on, eventually finding none. Got to be careful. I’m not the only one in here. Deciding to search the upper floors first, I made my way toward the stairwell on the north corridor, just off the main hall. Each step I took seemed impossibly loud on the aging wooden floor. I nonetheless took it slow, minimizing the noise my footsteps were generating. Keeping my weapon hand steady on my left wrist, I slowly climbed the stairs up to the next floor. When I was nearly at the landing of the second floor, I heard something out of the ordinary. It was muffled and faint, but I was sure I didn’t imagine it. It sounded like a heavy, deep groan coming from somewhere above me. As I froze again to see if the noise would repeat itself, a second occurrence of the noise reached my ears through the ceiling above me. It was a groan of a person, that much I could tell. Someone in pain. I resumed my ascent, skipping the second floor entirely and mounting the next couple flights of stairs until I reached the third floor. When I emerged out of the stairwell and entered the corridor, I noticed that in the darkness of the hallway was a soft, flickering orange glow coming from one of the rooms closer to the north end of the third floor hallway, over to my left. Hurriedly putting my torch away to avoid giving my presence away, I used the dim light of the orange glow as a guide as I gradually proceeded toward the only sign of life within the building I’d seen so far. I had taken no more than five careful steps from the stairwell landing when I heard it again: a guttural, hoarse groan of a man clearly in some physical distress. From this distance, I could make out the faint sobs that punctuated the groan – sobs that weren’t driven by sadness or sorrow, but of sheer, unbearable agony. Damn it, what the hell is going on here? My stomach sank a little. The air around me seemed to grow colder. I continued quietly down the hallway, every few steps I took coinciding with another disturbing groan that clutched my heart in ice and made my next step harder to take. After what felt like an eternity stalking down a dark, never-ending hallway, I finally reached the doorway where the orange light was emanating from. I kept still outside the slightly open door, the now-vivid sounds of suffering from inside testing my resolve to go on. I’m here for intel. I need to figure out what the enemy is doing with those prisoners. Get a grip, Chrissy. A bead of sweat hovered at my temple before eventually sliding down the side of my face. My hands felt cold and clammy even with my winter gloves on. My breaths had turned shallow and irregular. I lowered my body to a hunched position and used the muzzle of my handgun to gingerly push the door inwards. This particular door didn’t creak as it slowly swung inwards, allowing me an unfiltered taste of another groan of excruciating pain from a man just beyond the door. When the door was open enough for me to slip into the room, I took a couple steadying breaths and moved to face the door directly. I peered through the gap. Through my limited view of the interior of the room, I could make out a medium-sized space with peeling white pain coating the walls. A small, wooden table sat just a couple of metres away from the door, and on top of it was an old-style kerosene lantern that was the source of the orange glow coming from inside the room. Several rickety, rusty metal bedframes were posted by the walls on either side of the room. What demanded my attention, however, was what was happening by the far wall of the room. Through the gap in the doorway, I could make out the back of a hood and a black overcoat that reached down to the wearer’s knees. A pair of dark brown boots and the lower parts of a pair of black pants were visible beneath the ends of the coat. Now that I was this close to him, I could see that the wearer was about as tall as Knight but built a bit less sturdily. His arms seemed to be working on something in front of him, but his body was blocking whatever it was from view. It wasn’t until I was jarred by another sobbing groan that I realized he wasn’t working on something. He was working on someone. I tracked my eyes along the floor beneath the man’s boots and found something dark had coated the comparatively lighter wooden surface. I only just then became aware of a strong, coppery stench coming from past the door. “Shhh, shhh… It’s all right, now. The pain is all in your mind.” The voice was clearly of the hooded man’s. His voice was silky but unpleasant, his vocal tone in the higher ranges. He spoke somewhat elaborately, as if he was talking to some kind of audience. The words he just spoke and the way he uttered them reminded me of some deranged characters from the various horror flicks I’d seen in the past, the ones who were human only in form. Ones that couldn’t be reasoned with. All of a sudden, the man turned slightly to the right to pore over what looked like a surgical cart beside him. When he moved just a little out of the way, my eyes locked on to the one other person inside the room. It was a well-built, tall man. Other than that, I couldn’t be sure of anything else. It was hard to when I saw the state he was in. The man had been stripped of all clothing except his underwear. His wrists and ankles were bound to the four edges of a bedframe that was standing up, and his body was splayed out in full display as if he were a sheet covering a mattress. Every inch of exposed skin from his neck down to his ankles was covered in bloody incisions. Some of them, like the ones covering his arms and legs, looked like they had been made several hours ago and had stopped bleeding since then. Still, others on his chest. abdomen, and neck were trickling blood, and I knew those had to have been made within the last hour. All of the cuts from what I could see were superficial individually, and none of them appeared to be on vital areas of the human body. There was no other way to look at what was happening here: he was being carved up, made to bleed out in the slowest , most painful manner possible. I began to wonder why, then I realized I didn’t want to know why. I cupped my left hand over my mouth as I bent over, my stomach churning angrily. I breathed harshly through my nose at first but began to heave dryly into the palm of my glove. Nausea swept my entire body and threatened to topple me. I wasn’t sure if it would have been better to throw up there or keep any of my previous meal down. Oh my god. Intel. Need intel. Answers. Fighting to stifle my retching, I shook my head vigorously and stood up straight. That sick son of a bitch. I held up my pistol and slowly swung the door inward some more. By the time the door had opened fully, the man in the coat had resumed attending to the one bound to the bedframe. The sobs and moans of pain made my skin crawl and my stomach turn. I took a couple of steps into the room, no longer keeping quiet about it. “Freeze,” I said, finding the stench in the room overpowering and disorienting. “Drop whatever you’re holding and show me your hands.” The man froze, then slowly raised his hands up to head height. In his right hand was a bloody switchblade. Though he was in a surrendering pose, he did not let go of the knife. “Turn around and get on your knees,” I commanded, trying not to gag. The man complied with the first half of my instructions, slowly turning to face me. From here, though, I could only see the lower half of his face thanks to the hood he’d pulled over his head. “Show me your face.” I kept my CZ pointed at the man’s heart as he pulled back his hood gradually until it fell backwards over his head. My breath caught in my throat abruptly as I gazed at that face. His skin seemed to gleam with a deathlike pallor. The jet black hair growing from his head came past his ears and hung close to midway his neck – two curtains that seemed to part neatly down the middle of his head. His thin lips pursed at first, then morphed into a shape suggesting mild surprise, then the corners finally lifted slightly in a sort of predatory smile. It was those eyes that unsettled me the most: deep and pitch black, like a couple of bottomless pits. Unlike Knight’s. though, I could instantly read what was in the ones in front of me. What I saw made me wonder why I ever felt apprehension when Knight looked at me. These were the eyes that saw not a human, but something beneath him. Something to toy with. To explore. “Well,” the man began in a voice with a slightly high pitch that did nothing to rob it of whatever was in it that caused gooseflesh to erupt on my arms, “This is a surprise. Is that you… Christina?” I couldn’t speak at first. My mind seemed to draw a blank on what to do. My hands, still holding my pistol, shook slightly. No. No. No, no, no… “W-Who the hell are you?” I managed to choke out, my mouth seeming to utter the words even as my brain required no answer to the question. “Don’t say you’ve forgotten me,” he said in that same sinister pitch that I hated hearing. Of course not. Of course I haven’t forgotten. I could never… My legs were trembling, not by a lot, but damn it they shook all the same. I begged them silently to stop, but it was impossible to get through to the muscles in those limbs. Equal parts fear, confusion, and revulsion rose from the pit of my stomach like acid, corroding me from the inside. “Wha… What… What are you doing here, Rhodes?” I managed to stammer out, my mind still struggling to keep up with the developments before me. “Oh, please do call me Theo, Christina. We’re friends, aren’t we?” “S-Shut up…” “What, no hug at least? I’m disappointed, Chris—” “Shut up! SHUT UP! STAY BACK, YOU SICK FUCKER!” I screamed at him, rubbing my throat raw in my desperation as I warned him to stop before he could take a step closer to me. He put his foot back down on the floor as I struggled to keep my gun trained on his chest. He sighed emphatically and then ran his eyes over me in a way that made me feel even sicker. “How have you been, Christina? It’s been a while since I last saw you. Imagine meeting in Calgary again, of all places.” No. No. This can’t be. No. No no no no no “You’ve caught me at a rather inconvenient time, unfortunately. As you can see, I’m tending to a guest.” I found my voice again. “What… What are you doing here, Rhodes?” I demanded, gripping my pistol tightly in a bid to stop my hands from shaking. “Business,” Rhodes replied simply, then gave me a disconcerting little smirk. “You know that’s all I ever do.” “W-Who… is…?” “Ah, but where are my manners, of course. You haven’t been introduced yet.” Rhodes lowered his arms as though he’d just forgotten he was at gunpoint. He placed the switchblade down on the surgical cart next to him and stepped to the side of the man bound to the bedframe. Reaching up to grab the man by the hair, he directed the wounded man’s hazy gaze toward me. “Sebastian, this is Christina Valentine, an old friend of mine. She and I haven’t seen each other in a long time. To think we’d meet here again! Christina, this is Sebastian. We met just this morning, in fact.” Rhodes made a show of gesturing between me and this ‘Sebastian’ as he introduced us. This… morning? Rhodes thumped Sebastian on the chest heartily, making the wounded man grimace in pain. “I’m sorry, but he’s a bit out of it,” Rhodes told me apologetically, “We’ve been playing Q and A and Sebastian here isn’t being very cooperative. I had to motivate him some, but he’s playing hard ball. It’s all rather frustrating, really.” Rhodes turned back to face me, still smiling that unpleasant smile that made me feel uncomfortable beyond words. “I don’t believe in coincidences, Christina. I think you being here is significant. Maybe you can help Sebastian here with answering some questions he hasn’t had an answer for?” “What are you—” Rhodes reached into his coat for something. I tensed up immediately and cocked my gun at him. “Don’t—!” “Relax! I’m not going to pull a weapon out,” Rhodes said in an ‘assuring’ tone I knew better than to trust for a second. More carefully and slowly, he pulled out a small object from an inner pocket. It was rectangular, thin, about the same size and shape as a— My stomach sank even deeper and my heart leapt into my throat. It wasn’t in a cradle or wrist brace, but one good look at it was all I needed. A TACPAD. “Where did you get that?” I demanded as he turned the pad over in his hand. His eyes appeared to glint like obsidian stones. The corners of his lips rose slightly with a tiny twitch. “So you do know what it is,” Rhodes answered casually, then jerked his head toward the other man. “Sebastian was wearing it on his arm. I’ve asked him over and over what it was, or who he works for, all that fun stuff. Unfortunately, he seems rather tight-lipped about it and… well, this thing doesn’t seem to even turn on anymore.” Either it’s out of battery power, or it was purged prior to it falling into Rhodes’ hands. I‘m going to bet on the latter. I hope it’s the latter. “What are you doing here, Rhodes?” I asked again, my gun still aiming at him. “Why here?” He lowered the TACPAD to his side and turned his attention fully back to me. “Like I said, Christina,” he replied in that almost genuinely cordial tone, “Business. The US Army’s no slouch, but sometimes there’s nothing that can replace a professional touch. You know that.” “Northstar?” He smiled more widely, his deathly pale skin seeming to glow in the light of the lamp. “Ah, you remember us too. For a while there, we wondered where you’d went.” “Shut up, Rhodes.” Red hot anger began to rise and fill me up. “No, I don’t think I will. Where did you go, hmm? Better yet, why? What was it, the last operation? Four years ago now, was it?” “I said, SHUT UP!” I took a step closer to him and jabbed my CZ Shadow 2 in his direction. The fear and revulsion in my gut gave way to burning hatred. “You never could make the big decisions. Or the hard ones.” Rhodes’ voice shifted to mock melancholy as he shook his head a little. “You really are just a scared, helpless little girl. That’s all you ever were. Always tagging along with Michael.” “God damn you, Rhodes – you don’t get to talk about Mikey!” I cursed at him, gritting my teeth, wanting more than anything to pull the trigger and shoot. Rhodes sighed again, then lowered his head. When he lifted it again, all the playfulness had vanished from his expression. “It seems I’ve struck a nerve. Well. In any case, you know it’s true. Now you’re playing, what, soldier again for someone else?” “That’s none of your business. Get on the fucking ground. Now. Don’t fucking test me.” “Listen to yourself. Do you think you’re in control here? You haven’t changed – you’re scared. Just like you were back then. Do you remember that?” I depressed the trigger just a little bit. I wanted to pull it back all the way, to take the shot and kill this skeleton in my closet. So why was I hesitating? He shook his head again, looking almost regretful. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. Again, I’m here on business. I’ve got a job to do, Christina, and frankly this contract is a lot of… fun.” His eyebrows lifted a little as if he remembered something, and his sickening smile came back on his face. “I apologize, it looks like our time is up. This won’t be the last time we’ll see each other, I’m sure.” “What do you—” Rhodes tossed the TACPAD at my feet. My eyes fell to the floor as the device clattered over to me and bumped against my boot. Before I could turn my gaze back to Rhodes, two thunderous cracks filled the otherwise quiet building. At the same time, something thudded into my chest and stomach with enough force to send me falling backwards, off my feet and onto my back. Sharp pain exploded from the two areas of my torso where I’d been hit by whatever had knocked me down. For a moment, my mind was too preoccupied with processing the debilitating pain. My lungs screamed for air. Somewhere toward my feet, I barely heard Rhodes as he chuckled and jeered at me, the amusement returning to his voice. “Go on. Run. Run, Christina. You’d best hurry if you want to live.” A second after he said that to me, he said something else that wasn’t directed at me. “Hostile in the barracks, third floor. Requesting all available friendlies to contain and neutralize. Repeat, this is Hornet, requesting immediate backup at the Currie Barracks.” “Fuck,” I gasped, still partly dazed as I scrambled backwards like a crab. Before I could take cover to one side of the doorway, a couple of rounds tore into the wooden floor mere centimetres away from where I lay trying to catch my breath. I got to my feet, realizing just then what Rhodes had said about requesting backup to this building. I broke into a sprint and headed for the same stairwell I used to get up to reach the third floor. I briskly thundered down the stairs, my heart pounding rapidly in my chest. I was aware of the sharp, searing pain on my chest and stomach, but I fought to ignore it. Odds were that I’d broken or at least fractured something in those places, but I was still breathing. As I neared the landing of the second floor, I heard several voices coming from the flights below. The heavy thudding of boots seemed to draw nearer. At the same time, several rays from torches danced up the stairs and on the walls around the staircase. Shit. Can’t go that way. I shouldered the door to the second floor corridor open, taking a look left and right to check for enemies on this floor. There were none at the moment, but the sounds of several angry voices and footsteps coming from behind me were quickly catching up. The south staircase…! I pivoted in that direction and made a break for the other staircase, making it to the landing in just three seconds. When I opened the door to the south stairwell however, I caught sight of two or three soldiers starting up the last flight of stairs not fifteen metres ahead of me. They shouted something as I backpedaled and slammed the stairwell door closed. Not one second after I ducked to the side, a burst of gunfire punched several holes through the wood. If I’d stood where the door was just a moment longer, I’d have been riddled with rounds. I ran back in the direction of the north staircase, skidding to a halt when I caught sight of the beams of light on the corridor floor ahead of me. “Shit, shit!” I swore under my breath. I had three seconds at most before the soldiers in the north stairwell came barging out into the hallway I was in. In that same span of time, the soldiers in the south stairwell would box me in. No way out. The only way I could go was a room directly to my left. The room was open and unlocked, and in the darkness that my eyes had thankfully adjusted to, I could see that this room was identical to the one upstairs where I confronted the hooded man. No choice…! I burst into the room and shut the door behind me. The door didn’t have a lock or a deadbolt, so having the door closed wasn’t going to help me at all. Whirling, I quickly assessed my surroundings. Bedframes. Tables. Abandoned foot lockers. Shelves… Window. Wasting no time, I hurried over to the window and grabbed at the handle, yanking hard on it. The thing wouldn’t budge. It was stuck fast. The voices and thumps of heavy boots were out in the hallway now, rapidly closing in. I grabbed my Vector from the side of my backpack and holstered my pistol. Quickly flipping the gun’s fire mode to full auto, I brought the stock to my shoulder and aimed at the inert window. I fired a burst of .45 ACPs at the glass, punching several holes through it and weakening it before I slammed the stock of my Vector into it to smash the glass. “Possible hostile entered this room,” I heard a man’s voice boom from right outside the door I had closed. “Stack up!” No time. I swept broken glass off the windowsill with my gloved hand and mounted it. A quick look out the window revealed that this side of the building appeared clear, even if I had a few metres’ worth of a drop to make if I wanted to escape. If I stay here, I’m dead. I tossed my Vector out the window and unclipped my backpack. It was slightly bulky, not as much as Knight’s or Josh’s, but right now it would have to do. Holding my backpack over my chest and stomach like a makeshift shield, I took a couple of quick breaths and pushed off the windowsill. The door behind me crashed open a split-second later. I dived belly-down and plummeted to the ground like a stone. The fall was over much more quickly than I had expected. When I hit the ground, my backpack took the brunt of the impact but the force of my pack jamming against my torso sent a fresh wave of sharp pain spreading from the two spots where Rhodes’ bullets struck my ballistic vest. I took a couple of seconds to recover from the fall, then shakily got to my feet and reattached my backpack. Several angry, overlapping voices from above me came floating out the window. I located the Vector I had thrown out the window ahead of me, picked it up, and half-sprinted, half-limped over to the buildings I had traversed on my way to the barracks. Just as I had broken out into the open ground between the barracks and the nearest building where I had been contemplating a prison break, two soldier came rushing in my direction from the parking lot just by the south gate to CFB Calgary. I lifted my Vector and placed my sights on the nearer contact, then fired a burst that cut him down quickly. The other soldier stopped when his buddy went down and returned fire. I lowered myself to the ground a little – it was the best I could do with no viable cover within reach – and fired another burst at the other soldier. Some of my rounds caught him in the legs, and he toppled over like a domino. Staying mobile, I pushed forward while keeping my holographic sight’s reticle on his fallen form. When I was in a better range for my weapon, I fired again and the fallen soldier became still on the ground. More gunshots rang out from behind me, accompanied by yells from however many other soldiers at my heels. I felt several rounds cut through the air around me as I ran as fast as my injured body could allow. I cut between two of the buildings by the south fence to avoid most of the lead being thrown my way. Just as a stitch in my side was beginning to form from the sudden burst of running I’d been doing for the past few minutes, I became aware of a voice right in my ear practically yelling at me. “Angel, come in! Angel, can you hear me? Do you read? Angel!” I quickly tapped my earpiece but did not stop moving toward the south gate, my nearest available exfil point. “Ar-cher,” I gasped into my mic. It was all I could do to keep from falling over and risking a brief stop to catch my breath. “I copy…” Genel’s voice gave me a tiny boost of confidence. “There you are! What happened in— No, never mind that. Where are you?” “Buildings… behind the buildings… by the south fence… I’m making my… way to the south gate…” “Roger that. I’ve got dozens of hostiles tearing through the grounds on the other side of those buildings you’re at. I’ll do what I can to thin them out, but I can’t stop them all. Keep moving! The south gate is clear!” I was nearly there. As Genel promised, the gate was unmanned; the guards must have mobilized toward the barracks just moments ago and missed me. Before I broke from cover behind the closest building to the gate, I leaned out and put rounds on another three soldiers on the other side of the building. All three went down, though one of them was nearly incapacitated by the rounds I managed to land on his legs. “Hurry, Angel! They’re closing in – don’t get pinned down there!” I hastily detached an M84 stun grenade from my belt, primed it, and lobbed it to the north, toward the other side of the building. The blast wouldn’t be as effective since I was tossing the grenade outdoors, but right now I was going to take any helpful distractions I could get. Just as the blast rang out, I burst out from cover and ran for the south gate. I ducked under the crossing gate as more bullets whizzed by all around me. “Come to my position. There are more places to lose them on this side of the highway! Don’t stop moving!” Genel barked at me as her rifle boomed through the night. I didn’t respond, but I sprinted across Crowchild Trail all the same, hopping the middle barrier between the northbound and southbound lanes a bit clumsily. The longer I ran, the more my chest stung. The pain wasn’t quite incapacitating, but it was impossible to ignore it completely. Not only that, but by now I was running on fumes, stamina-wise. It was harder to breathe with surely some bruising to my chest and abdomen. Still, I kept moving even if I knew I had slowed considerably in the last minute. When I had made it to the residential properties on the other side of Crowchild, I allowed myself to slow to a brisk walk as I continued down Ypres Green, a street to the north of the retirement home. “Angel? I just lost sight of you. Are you clear of the highway?” Genel said, her SRS ringing out again through the darkness. My legs finally gave out underneath me. I stumbled to my knees and collapsed to the snow covered sidewalk, drawing in deep, desperate lungfuls of air. “Angel? Angel!” I tapped my earpiece again as I gasped and coughed harshly. “Still here.” “Thank God. Where are you?” “Ypres Green… I think. Not far from you.” “Okay. We need to leave this area. The soldiers stopped pursuing you once you left the base. Must have been discouraged by the thought of you leading them into a trap. By now though they know there’s a sniper on this rooftop, so I gotta displace before they send troops to root me out.” “Un-derstood…” “Hey, are you okay?” “I’ve been better.” “At least you’re still with me. Look, I’m leaving the roof now. You’d best get a move on back to the truck. We’ll RV there. Can you make it?” “Sure… no problem.” “All right. I’ll see you in a few. Out.” I struggled to pick myself up off the snow. I was still panting rather raggedly, but at least now I didn’t feel like my lungs would burst. Glancing down at my torso, I pulled back the left half of the front of my parka to check on my ballistic vest. There were two small brass bullets – crushed by their impact to the protective armour – lodged in the material. One practically sat above my heart, while the other was lodged further down, right around where my last rib was. I plucked the two bullets from my vest, tossed them away, and staggered across the street and headed south. As I resumed moving, I couldn’t help picturing that pale, haunting face in my mind again. Gritting my teeth, I shook my head wearily. Impossible. What is he doing here? Why did it have to be him? |
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