The Second Rising

by Kevin Douglas

  Matthew’s insistence on Victor’s additional testing had only bolstered their recommendation for his return to duty. Something didn’t sit right, so he pulled Victor’s evaluation report to take a closer look. After his encounter with the mystery stalker, he hadn’t ventured out to grab a pint at night; it was the guard, work, and home, but today was an exception.

  Matthew brought the materials to a local bar to comb over the results. He sat in the corner booth for some privacy and ordered lunch.

  He didn’t doubt the psychological evaluation’s accuracy. He was unfamiliar with that field, and they were the experts. Instead, he skipped to the sections of testing he had insisted upon, he wanted to assure himself they hadn’t missed something in these.

  He browsed over the personality testing, stress test, general combat and weapons knowledge, physical fitness, and finally weapons performance of several types. They were right, nothing he saw would have caused him even the slightest hesitation in returning Victor to duty.

  He closed the manila folder containing the materials as his lunch was served. He was starving, the smells from his warm food causing him to salivate. He dug in, taking a large bite of his burger, and as he chewed, he thought about Victor and the report. Am I just losing it?

  He laughed at himself before taking a long swig of his beer. It still did beg the question of -- - Sounds of a newscaster speaking on a TV above the bar caused him to whip his head. He watched the news flash in progress.

  Former army, and current national guardsman Henry Whittaker is glad to be home after being lost in nearby Shenandoah National Park. His disappearance on Sunday caused alarm to his family when he hadn’t come home from a hike he had set out on earlier that day. The smiling Henry is relieved to be safe at home and is happy that things didn’t turned out worse for him. He said, ‘I set out on an ambitious remote hike and became lost. Without the proper amount of hydration, I became weak and sick to my stomach even. I eventually found the trail and hydrated at a watering station before finally retuning home.’ He says he’s slightly embarrassed but believes his training kept him calm and resourceful enough to survive.

  Confused, Matthew looked away from the TV. The one piece that didn’t fit for him was the disappearances. Were they coincidental, random, or something else?

  Henry had now re-emerged unscathed as well, just like the rest. He’d be curious to see Henry’s testing as well. The testing!…

  It sparked a thought about Victor’s report: it was perfect, too perfect. Specifically, his small arms testing. Victor always performed well with rifles, even sniper fire, but consistently struggled in small arms accuracy for some reason. Matthew dropped his burger down on his plate and flipped open the manila folder, locating the arms testing results.

  The small arms accuracy was immaculate, mountains above his previous testing and well above his excellent large caliber results. This went against years of data with his performing well below this mark on small arms fire. Matthew pulled out a highlighter and marked the small arms section.

  Being an E5, Matthew liked to know his men and took the time to learn a thing or two about each one. He flipped to the stress and personality testing to see if they matched his personal experiences with Victor. The results indicated low levels of stress in a range of duty-related circumstances with strong marks on leadership. Before his disappearance, Victor had a tendency to panic in extreme situations and was someone who needed leadership to perform well, not the other way around. Stunned, he highlighted this section and looked at the following page containing notes.

  Physician’s notes:

  Mr. Renique’s testing verifies he is mentally fit and effectively able to handle stress related to active duty. NOTE: Mr. Renique refused a physical examination, blood pressure measurement, blood testing, electroencephalogram, and urinary analysis. Despite this refusal Mr. Renique completed the physical fitness portion with ease and has been reinstated to active duty, effective immediately.

  Truth be told Victor was average when it came to the guard, this wasn’t an average guardsmen’s test results, this was an exceptional report. He highlighted the physician’s notes about Victor’s refusals and pulled out his phone to dial the medical department.

  When the receptionist answered, he asked for the attending physician that had performed Victor’s testing and wrote his report.

  “Hello, this is Dr. Mongrove. How can I help?”

  “Hello doctor this is Sergeant Matthew Davis, I need you to revoke Victors Renique’s active duty stamp of approval until further notice. Some things have come to light.”

  “Mr. Davis, he passed his exams, I can’t withhold him from duty. Unless you have something, you’d care to share with me.”

  “It’s just until I can verify a couple of things…I also see some inconsistencies in the report you wrote.”

  “Are you trying to blackmail me? Look I can’t hold him back without cause, my report stands. You’re out of line Mr. Davis, and out of luck. Goodbye!”

  “Dr. Mongrove! Dr. I’ll bring you proof. Dr. Mongrove?...Damn it!”

  Matthew tapped to end the call, set down his phone, and rubbed his face before taking several bites from his burger. Lost in thought, he turned his attention back to the bar blocking out the news coverage, when a man at the end of the bar turned away abruptly and faced the bar for another drink.

  The man’s behavior made Matthew curious, but he had just been yelling at Dr. Mangrove on the phone. It was logical to have drawn the man’s attention. The mystery guest from a few nights ago stuck in his mind, leaving Matthew suspicious. He watched as the man nursed a drink, so much so, that it was debatable he was even consuming it. Just like his stalker had done days prior.

  The dead give-away was the man’s bowler hat. Who even wore those nowadays? The hat was tipped low on the man’s brow, making it difficult to see his eyes. Holy crap, he’s back! Several scenarios played out in his head; he needed to get information from the man, so he ignored the thought of walking up and kicking the stool out from under him. It was very tempting though.

  Matthew slid around the booth so that he faced the bar. Keeping an eye on the man, he pulled over his plate of food and continued eating.

  His eyes were locked on the back of the man’s head as he violently chewed and gulped his drink. Matthew had begun carrying a concealed weapon ever since his encounter a few days ago. He was glad he did. The gun would hopefully deter the man from attacking right away, allowing him to get answers before he pumped the man full of lead.

  Finally, the man slowly swiveled on his stool to face Matthew as if he knew he had been staring at him the whole time. Time in the bar seemed to stand still as Matthew focused solely on the man who had finally raised the brim of his hat. The man’s position at the far end of the bar left him mostly in silhouette, except for a smear of light reflecting off a bar glass lighting up the lower half of his face.

  It showed an exaggerated sinister grin ear to ear; a brief red glow shinned from under the brim, the red orbs of light dimed and disappeared as the man lowered the hat back down. Matthew didn’t spook easily, so he took the gesture as a challenge. Bring it on asshole!

  He took a one-handed bite of his burger, keeping the other hand wrapped around the cold steel of his Detonics 45mm handgun. The stalker tipped his glass in Matthew’s direction before downing it. Matthew finished the rest of his burger quickly, then pulled out a twenty and smacked it down on the table. The waitress walked over and picked it up.

  “Off already? I’ll get your change hun,” said the woman.

  “No need, keep the change. I gotta cut and run,” Matthew said as he slid out of the booth.

  The waitress admired Matthew as he passed her; he was clean cut, with short cropped hair and broad shoulders, athletic and easy on the eyes.

  “You find your way back now,” she said, giving him a quick wink.

  Matthew looked to the bar, the man’s stool was now empty, and the bartender was picking up his empty glass wi
th a bill tucked under it.

  Matthew’s head swiveled around the bar, then to the exit where the double doors swiveled shut. Not sure where he had gone, Matthew exited the bar into a dim dusk setting.

  Looking westward, he was blinded by a bright yellow sunset, shielding his eyes he looked in both directions. The streets were empty. He was pissed. He’d missed another opportunity to deal with the man and get answers. He decided to walk off his burger. Making his way down the street he kept one hand on his hip and an eye out for the stalker that may be hiding.

  . . . .

  The butcher jogged away from the bar, hoping that his target would follow. As he hid, the Butcher decided that tonight would be Matthew’s last. The butcher hadn’t consulted Ms. Likvold on anything to do with Matthew or explained that he was causing problems.

  She’d just tell him to back off and explain to him like he was an idiot, that the list was simple, not to deviate. This mission had been under his discretion; however, Matthew wasn’t at all on his list of subjects to be neutralized. Matthew liked to ask questions, and many of the men he had already brought down worked underneath him. He felt compelled to act. He didn’t care what she thought, he only cared that this plan succeeded, she’d be too blind to see Matthew as a threat.

  The butcher had overheard his argument in the bar and had an intimate knowledge that his suspicions were leading to unwanted testing on Victor Renique. If left alone, he’d blow the whistle or convince doctors certain biological testing was needed on Matthew’s squad.

  The butcher knew his exposure to Matthew a few days ago had probably perpetuated the soldier’s suspicions, but he wouldn’t let an agitated stray drunk stand in his way this time. His brazen actions tonight, in his mind, would put to rest any ripples, despite a replacement for Matthew.

  His list was already complete. He’d report this back to Ms. Likvold when he’d finished with Matthew. She didn’t need to know about him.

  . . . .

  The sunset had now changed to a deep purple and would give way to night in the next few minutes. Matthew continued walking slowly, alert to slightest movement or noise. Natural lighting was replaced with street lights and neon, casting shadows that danced in his peripheral vision, making him jittery. Glancing across the street at one such shadow Matthew squinted then verified, it was just his mind playing tricks and continued.

  A loud bang in front of him caused him to whip his head forward and pull his gun out of the holster. The door to a club had been slammed open violently and smacked against the side of the building as two women clumsily stumbled outside, holding onto each other for balance.

  Music spewed out from the club into the street and the two laughing drunks caught sight of Matthew, his pistol pointed in their direction. He calmly holstered the weapon, but it was too late, the women were already screaming at the top of their lungs. One of them dove back into the club, landing half-way inside, the door coming to rest against her legs that were splayed out on the sidewalk. The other woman ran away from the club screaming but didn’t get far. She was quickly silenced after her heal snapped, causing her to fall, her head colliding with a car parked at the curb.

  “Hollllly crap!” he said to himself in disbelief.

  Matthew checked on the woman by the car, but she was knocked out cold; then he tried to talk to the woman in the doorway, but as he approached the woman began to scream again.

  “Please, please don’t kill me!”

  “Ms. I’m not gonna harm you.”

  “Get away! Don’t hurt me!”

  Knowing the situation was out of control and bouncers would soon be on scene, he left the area, so he didn’t draw any more attention. Two businesses down he spotted a figure that faced him then quickly darted into an alleyway. Matthew sprinted down the sidewalk after the figure he believed was his stalker.

  Matthew turned the corner and headed in the alley, drawing his pistol once again. Out of the dark came a fist that chopped down on his outstretched arm, causing the pistol to tumble out of his hand and clatter onto the ground.

  His assumption that the man wouldn’t attack if he saw a gun was proven incorrect. The next blow was high, but Matthew’s senses were heightened, and he blocked it, countering with an elbow to the man’s face. The blow knocked the man’s head sideways and sent his hat flying, but Matthew felt like he had elbowed a brick wall. The blow bruised his elbow badly and had caused little damage to the smiling stalker. The man grabbed Matthew’s shirt and pulled him in for a close look at his face.

  “Take a good look boy, we are the future. I’m going to enjoy killing you. Seems like forever since I killed one of you, ‘flesh bags.’ I might have let you live longer if you had just shut up and stopped asking questions.”

  The man’s grip on Matthew’s shirt was tight, and he knew he couldn’t twist his way free. While the stalker had been talking and trying to intimidate him, Matthew had drawn a large knife that he always carried on him. Creating space between them, he sliced up through his own shirt, severing the fabric the stalker held in his grasp. Matthew lashed out with the knife across the man’s face, but the man’s release of his hold on Mathew caused him to stumble backward, preventing a solid strike. Fluid dribbled down the man’s cheek and brow from the cut, then stopped abruptly as if drained. Matthew stumbled over debris in the alleyway and fell hard onto his butt, then rolled onto his back.

  The man wiped the fluid off his face and laughed, “You’re a damn nuisance.”

  He leapt into the air and came down onto Matthew to deliver a punch but was stopped by Matthew’s legs raised in the air. Matthew was still on his back, and the stalker’s limbs dangled downward like a puppet as he tried to keep the man away from his face.

  Their arms scrapped together for positioning, but Matthew had landed near the gun and now raised it toward the stalker’s head. The man saw the movement and caught Matthew’s arm before he could line it up with his head. He squeezed off several rounds in anticipation that missed, whizzing by the man’s ear as he stared, unfazed.

  The stalker wrestled his other arm free and began to beat at Matthew’s face, landing several hard blows. The punches were brutal, and he blocked out the pain, but the last blow left Matthew slightly dizzy. He needed to break free. Matthew hacked at the man’s elbow causing the joint to finally collapse, and the man’s next punch missed its mark. Now that Matthew’s gun hand was free, the attacker covered his face with an open hand, knowing the soldier would get off a few rounds before he could stop him.

  Matthew bent his legs, then extended them quickly, catapulting the stalker off him. Simultaneously, he fired several rounds at the man; two were absorbed by his hand that covered his face, and the other two found their mark, hitting his chest and shoulder. The man twisted from the rounds as he fell but landed on his feet in a crouched position, then rose.

  “Time to die pretty boy, before you do any more damage. It was fun playing.”

  Matthew had pushed himself off the ground, his gun still in hand, he released the empty clip letting it fall to the ground. He quickly smacked in another clip in and racked the slide closed.

  “Let’s do this you pile of junk! You gonna talk all day or you gonna fight!”

  The attacker exploded forward while ducking; Matthew’s rounds sailed over his head as he tackled Matthew with a smack, sending them both sprawling against the opposing alley wall. Matthew’s head contacted the brick leaving him dizzy once again, but he was able to shake it off. He surprised the man by quickly grabbing him and rolling them both, putting his attacker in an arm bar hold.

  Matthew rested the man’s arm on the stairs next to them and stomped down with his foot onto his attacker’s elbow, causing a muffled crack. The man swiped Matthew’s feet out from under him and quickly put him into a sleeper hold.

  “It’s time now,” he whispered into Matthew’s ear. The stalker slammed his twisted forearm against the wall, bending it back in the proper direction, more liquid squirting out of his torn flesh. The arm
was able to operate, but the joint was irreparable.

  Matthew struggled to grab something for leverage as the man dragged him out into the middle of the alleyway. He still had the gun in his hand, but the man held him tight. Unable to get off a shot, Matthew’s mind grew foggy as his air supply was being extinguished, his lips and face turning a light shade of purple, his eyes blood shot and bulging.

  “Shhhh, Shhhh,” the man taunted as he kicked Matthew’s legs out from under him, bringing him to his knees. Sirens were heard closing in on their location, their strobes illuminating the street beyond the alley. The man used his free damaged arm to batter Matthew’s ribs from behind with his fist, hitting over and over breaking his ribs, spit dribbling out onto Matthew’s deep purple lips.

  The man whispered once more as he loosened his grip, “I’m the Butcher pretty boy, and I’m coming for you. I’m coming for all of you.”

  The butcher released his grip on Matthew’s neck, which caused his chest to spasm as his body attempted to get oxygen into his lungs.

  Coughing and gasping, his vision was still pins and needles of light, mixed with a kaleidoscope of color. The butcher took Matthew’s gun hand and placed the barrel against his temple.

  “Just get it over with Matthew, they won’t believe you.”

  Matthew was confused by his senses, it felt as if the butcher had let go. Bright light blinded Matthew, and his muddled mind tried to sort out his surroundings. Mathew raised his other hand clumsily to block the bright light.

  “Freeze, drop the weapon now!” said several voices in unison.

  Matthew’s mind processed the scene these officers saw before them: a man that had threatened and harmed several women, then fired shots in an adjacent alleyway. That man was now down on his knees with a gun to his temple, bloodshot eyes, and drool spilling from his discolored lips.