The Perfect Soldier

by B D Grant

  Glensy squints his eyes at Mick seeming to be seeing something new in Mick. “Your friends were getting shot at, and he had to threaten your life for you to help?” Glensy says in a low voice. Mick doesn’t respond just continues to stare at him. “You’re such a pal,” he tells Mick, giving him a hard slap on the back.

  “What’s going on?” Kelly asks from behind me, next to Mick.

  “You don’t want to know,” Glensy tells him.

  “Alright. So, I’m thinking we head for the main stairs in the Laurel building. If they’ve barricaded what they were supposed to, then we shouldn’t run into anyone once we’ve gotten to the stairs.” Glensy, Baudin, and Mick glance around at each other waiting for one of the others to object.

  “Sounds good,” Baudin says, tapping on Glensy’s shoulder for him to open the door. Kelly gives the nod, looking over the group holding a finger to his lips for everyone to be quiet as the door opens. Baudin steps out first, casually walking out into another hallway. He checks both ends of the hallway before looking back at all of us crowded at the door as Kelly steps out. One by one we walk out, Mom pushing Sidney.

  I’m just ahead of Mom and Sidney. Mick and Baudin are ahead of us with Kelly and Glensy continuing to take the lead. John keeps pace with Mom and Sidney with Bryant and Ben right behind them. Ben had randomly been mumbling as we go.

  “I could have used it to tie one doorknob to the other, and then we wouldn’t have had to move that filing cabinet,” I hear him mumble excitedly.

  “Really?” Bryant asks him faintly. “A rope would have kept trained killers from breaking into a room?”

  There’s a pause as if Ben’s thinking it over. “I would have tied it super tight,” he says finally.

  Bryant lets out an exasperated sigh. “You’re missing the point.”

  I can’t help but grin listening to them. They haven’t changed. I glance behind me wanting to see if Ben looks as serious about the rope as he sounds, but my eyes don’t from Sidney as soon as I see her. The bandaging that Mom did to Sidney’s abdomen with what John had in his backpack is dark red from where the bleeding hasn’t stopped. I snap my head back around. “How far are the stairs?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

  Baudin looks over his shoulder at me but doesn’t have time to answer; a door ahead of us opens. A single hand holding a gun appears and shoots wildly in our direction. I raise my right hand to take aim, but Kelly and Glensy don’t need the split second to lift their guns. They’ve been walking with their weapons raised since stepping out of the breakroom. One shot from each of them, and I see blood splatter. The hand disappears, and the door shuts with a resounding clunk.

  Everyone with a weapon has it raised now. Mick moves a little closer to Baudin eyeing the other doors around us. I scurry back to get next to Mom, telling myself it’s to protect her seeing as I have a gun and she’s pushing Sidney, but in reality I just feel safer beside her.

  “Are there cameras in this hall?” Ben asks, looking around.

  “Nah,” Baudin says. “That’s just some scared idiot with a gun shooting anytime they hear something. Not everyone made it to the safe rooms.”

  I want to ask about the safe rooms but don’t bother as we get to the door with blood splatter on it. Everyone’s weapon is trained on the door as we pass it, but it doesn’t open again.

  Tensions ease when we take a left down another hall. There are windows at the end that have natural light pouring through them.

  “Second door on your right,” Baudin says to Glensy and Kelly. He looks at Mick expectantly.

  “Hit nine-three-three-two on the pad,” he says to Glensy who’s on the right side of the hall.

  But the door doesn’t unlock for Glensy. We stand there, weapons in hand. Baudin grabs Mick’s arms and pushes around Glensy to the door.

  Baudin makes a show of lifting his chin to glare down his nose at Mcik lifting his gun, just enough to make sure Mick sees. “You playing with me, boy?” He reminds me of a cowboy in an old Western, standing there like that, all for show. But his finger isn’t even on the trigger.

  Mick doesn’t roll his eyes but the way he purses his lips as he returns Baudin’s gaze and then turns to the keypad exhaling through his teeth I can tell he isn’t impressed. He presses the numbers as he says them out loud: “Nine three three two.” And then grabs the door handle.

  It opens with ease.

  Kelly reaches a hand out and stops Mick. “I should go first,” he tells him gently.

  “Be my guest,” Mick says. Looking past them, I see a wide staircase leading down.

  Kelly leads us down the stairwell, Mick a step behind him. Baudin follows. John volunteers to carry Sidney. He hands Mom his rifle and picks up Sidney, cradling her like an infant. Sidney’s eyes are still shut like she’s been since John gave her that injection from his backpack, but she winces a little when he lifts her out of the wheelchair and then again when he readjust his hold on her.

  Mom and I enter the stairwell behind John. To my surprise, Mom seems pretty comfortable with the rifle. She checks both magazines to see how much ammunition is left, handling the weapon with more care than I’d expect for someone who’d sit on our living room floor in front of the coffee table next to Dad and time each other to see who could disassemble and reassemble Dad’s Glock the quickest. Glensy, Ben, and Bryant are at the back. I hear the stairwell door shut softly behind them.

  Only once do we pass anyone in the stairwell. The man, a Dyna, had earphones in as he jogged up the stairs. His shirt is covered in sweat, cheeks flushed from his workout.

  When he registers our group coming down the stairs in front of him, his eyes fix on Kelly. He stiffens. Kelly reaches out toward him and the man leans back. If Kelly’s hand wasn’t as quick as it was snatching one of the guy’s earphones and pulling it out of his ear than I’m sure the guy would have done a complete back bend to avoid Kelly’s hand. “We’re in full lockdown,” Kelly says, looking pointedly at the door on the stairwell between him and the rest of us. “Get to an office and lock yourself in it.” The man mutters what I guess is an apology and then retreats.

  Baudin laughs as the door shuts. “I think he pissed himself.”

  Mick is less amused. “Wouldn’t you have, if you thought a Death Dyna was about to bash your brains in?” I look down at the floor as Kelly’s memories come back to me. Death Dyna is a good description of what the people here have turned him into.

  Before anyone answers, Kelly increases his pace heading down the remaining flights of stairs. The rest of us, except for John whose legs are just as long, jog to keep up.

  We pass the second floor entrance when an alarm goes off, an obnoxiously loud wail. Red lights above the doors in the stairwell flash in rhythm with the alarm.

  “Fire alarm!” Glensy hollers over the noise.

  I put my hands over my ears and follow the others, squinting against the bright lights. It’s not until we exit the stairwell onto the ground floor that the screeching ends. The lights are still flashing as the door to the stairs closes behind Ben.

  I walk out to a soaking wet carpet that squishes with every step. Water is still dripping from the sprinklers lining the ceiling every couple of feet.

  At the other end of the hall, the front doors leading to the street have been propped open. I can see the side of a fire truck parked outside and the flashing lights of more emergency vehicles reflecting off of its red paint. The entrance to the building has been taped off and there are more people in SWAT attire to the left of the doors huddled together too occupied by what they’re discussing to notice us. Outside, I hear indistinct shouting. Every head in the huddled group pops up, looking somewhere off to the right of the entrance. One of them yells for a gurney as the group disperses toward whatever is happening outside.

  “I’m not going out the front,” Mom tells our group. “They’ll detain me. Me and Taylor will go to my car out the side and meet ya’ll outside of the city.”

  “Not safe,” Baudin say
s immediately. “They’ll be watching to see who leaves the area.”

  “I’ve gotta get back upstairs,” Mick says, moving back toward the stairwell.

  “Hold it,” Baudin says, stepping in front of him. For the second time in less than an hour, Baudin points his gun at Mick. “What do you think is going to happen once you get back up there?” He pauses. “You’ll be considered a traitor.” Mick opens his mouth, but Baudin interrupts. “Your girlfriend’s parents can’t get you out of this one.”

  Mick squares his shoulders at Baudin. “I can’t leave Jessica.” There’s something desperate in his voice.

  “Then you’re an idiot,” Baudin grumbles.

  “Enough,” Kelly says. He looks over at Ben who’s moving around the group. “Do it.”

  Ben’s gun is ready. Kelly steps out of the way as Ben steps forward, a couple feet from Mick standing with his back to him and shoots Mick in the back of his upper arm with a tranquilizer. Mick grabs his arm, knocking the tranquillizer off, but it’s done its job. Kelly catches him as his legs go slack and hoists him over one shoulder.

  “All right,” John says, carrying Sidney around them to the front of the group. She‘s limp in his arms. “We need to get a move-on.” Ben helps Kelly with Mick, wrapping Mick’s left arm around his own shoulders so that Kelly can do the same with the right.

  Mom slides to the back of the group where Bryant is standing keeping his eye and his rifle pointed on the stairwell door. She grabs Bryant’s arm and whispers just loud enough that I can hear her say, “You’re coming with us.” Bryant doesn’t react, but I know he’s understood.

  We hang back as John starts down the hall with Sidney. Kelly and Ben follow him dragging Mick between them. I wave Baudin ahead of us, who looks back as if he’s about to tell me to go ahead of him. Bryant and I slip out of the hallway, following Mom through a door to the right of the stairwell, as everyone else starts heading for the front doors.

  This must be the way Mom got into the building, because there are no signs directing us to any exits, but she brings us straight to the side exit. We make it out and into Mom’s car without incident. Bryant climbs into the passenger seat with his rifle tucked beside his seat and the center console. I slide into the back seat behind the driver’s seat. Bryant turns in his seat to look at me and then out the back glass. He turns to my mom. “Maybe she should lay down in the seat.” Mom turns to look at me sitting in the seat buckling my seatbelt. She glances out of the windows and back glass. I start doing the same, wondering if there’s something that they’re seeing outside that I haven’t picked up on.

  “He’s right,” Mom says as I look out the back of the car but see nothing besides the tall fencing that blocks the alleyway from view of the traffic passing in front of the buildings. I can see the red of another fire truck but there’s no one in the alleyway or any officers peaking over the fence. “In case that guy was right about them having people watching for Seraphim leaving.” I unbuckle and lean down putting an arm under my head as I stretch out on the backseat. Mom frowns, looking back out through the back windows. “You’re still to visible.” She turns to Bryant. “Hand me that,” she says, pointing at the floor below his feet. He pulls out a blanket. “Here,” she says, handing me the blanket. “Lay on the floor and cover up with this.” I do as I’m told, dropping down to the floorboard that smells faintly of wet dog and tossing the blanket over me. “Make sure your head’s covered,” she adds as she puts the car in gear. With a groan, I pull the blanket over my head trying to find a comfortable position laying on my side.

  When she starts the car, I uncover my head so that I can see what’s happening. The carpet rubs against my elbow as I prop myself up just a little. Mom won’t see that I’ve sat up some since my lower body hasn’t moved and that’s all she can see if she looks over her shoulder at the backseat floorboard.

  “Thanks for picking me to be the third wheel,” he tells my mom as we pull out onto the street. The alleyway must not be fenced from the other side, because she pulled straight onto the road without having to stop.

  “Wasn’t much of a choice,” she tells him. “John had Sidney, Ben’s a buffoon, and all of the others were Rogues.”

  I smile. Man, I’ve missed her. “How does that make you feel?” I ask Bryant from the floorboard.

  He shrugs. “All I heard was that I was the best choice.”

  “So,” he says after a moment, turning to look at me out the corner of his eye, “Should I ask why I suddenly got the feeling you were in danger and somehow knew your exact location?”

  “You shouldn’t ask anything,” Mom says rather harshly.

  “It should have been more of a vision than a dream,” I mumble.

  “Taylor,” Mom snaps. I lean down some expecting her to turn around and glare at me, but she doesn’t.

  “Well, if I was your daughter, I’d want to know why you skipped town before the raid.” The center console creaks under his elbow as he turns his torso towards her. “I mean, I’d want to know if my mother was a Rogue.”

  That gets her attention. I feel the car speed forward. “I am not a Rogue.”

  “And I believe her,” I add, propping myself on my elbow again hoping to give Bryant some peace of mind and defuse the tension growing between them. I have been in her head. She was willing to sacrifice her life to revenge what she thought was my death. She’s a great mother, and that alone would make her a terrible Rogue. Rogues have had no qualms attacking Seraphim who openly opposed their core beliefs that Seraphim were meant to control more than help to nonSeraphim population. Having a family or young children didn’t stop Rogues from retaliating on those who they deemed an enemy to their cause. My mother would never harm a child, much less their parent just because they didn’t share the same beliefs.

  I hear sirens, barely audible over the sound of traffic. I watch Bryant’s expression to judge whether or not I should get nervous.

  His eyes are locked on his rearview mirror as we begin to slow down. I slide back under the seat, pulling the blanket up to my chin. I hear the sirens right behind us. Bryant places his hand on his rifle. I hold my breath.

  Over the top of the armrest, I see Mom set her hand on Bryant’s arm. He keeps the gun down. I lift my head a little to see the top of the blue flashing lights as the police car passes us.

  I release my breath and lean the back of my head against the bottom side of the seat cushion. Bryant’s grip relaxes. With tension still high, Mom takes two snack-size bags from the center console. She passes one to me and gives the other to Bryant. “Thank you,” we say in unison.

  My bag is full of cashews and pistachios. I eat half before passing the bag back up to Mom. She takes a handful as the radio plays a peaceful piano melody. I twist around on the floorboard as much as I can so that I can see her better. I take a fistful of the blanket and tuck it under my head.

  I wake when the back of my head meets something hard. I try to stretch my legs; everything is sore.

  I’m jolted again. Pothole. Mom used to get onto Dad anytime he ran over one—she said it was going to mess up the tires. This is going to be a long ride.

  Mom and Bryant are talking softly in the front. I close my eyes again and twist my torso, but the kinks in my back aren’t going anywhere. “He shot a defenseless old lady—”

  “Her name is Sidney,” Mom cuts Bryant off. I try to go back to sleep but I’ve caught on to what they’re talking about and can’t help but listen.

  “Sidney,” he repeats. “Then, instead of taking you out, he goes after his partner, who he only knocks out.”

  “I’m telling you, he was stone cold when he shot Sidney.” She doesn’t know how right she is. Connecting to his memories through the lie he told showed me how void of emotions he had become. It’s like he had become a machine by the time he finished Elite training.

  Bryant shifts uncomfortably. “Stone cold?”

  “No emotion,” Mom repeats.

  Bryant scratches the back of hi
s scalp giving her a questionable sideways glance, which she catches. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you,” he says quickly, “it’s just, it’s not Kelly. He could have been in survival mode. I mean, I’m sure he knew he was being watched,”

  “The other Rogues were leaving when Sidney and I got to Taylor,” Mom says. “I barely saw them. He could have shot a wall for all they knew. But instead he shot a sick, old woman.” I’m starting to nervous the more Mom talks about Kelly shooting Sidney. Yes, it was definitely weird how out of it Kelly was, but she’s about to get to the part where I grabbed his arm and somehow pulled the real Kelly back to the surface. Bryant already knows there’s something strange going on, even by Seraphim standards, thanks to Sidney doing everything she could to get me out of there. I don’t want him thinking I’m some kind of freak when I don’t even know with one hundred percent certainty that I did anything.

  “You said he was going to shoot you next,” Bryant says, and I tense waiting for Mom’s response. She doesn’t answer. “But he shot the Rogue instead. Doesn’t that tell you something?” Bryant’s voice rises despite himself. Mom starts to look over her shoulder. I quickly close my eyes, relax my face. I let myself feel my own breathing, the vibrations of the car floor.

  “It wasn’t humanity that changed his mind.”

  “Please stop talking,” I think to myself, but she doesn’t say that I stepped in front of him. I know she saw me yanking on Kelly’s arm begging him not to pull the trigger when he snapped out of it.

  “No humanity?” Bryant says. “That’s harsh. I mean, I’m not saying I don’t believe you,” he repeats. “It’s just that Kelly hates them. He fought just as hard as I did against those jack wagons in the basement and he would have killed every last one of them if he’d had the chance.” He turns to look at my mom. “He’s not some dumb kid.”

  “I get that,” Mom says. “But they were able to turn him into something else.”