by Gerry, Frank
The drones continued their pursuit, breaking off from time to time to avoid trees, power lines, and pedestrian bridges. The driver managed to get the bike up to forty then forty five miles and hour. By sheer luck, the targeting lasers lost their mark when the drones had to veer off to avoid hitting another tree branch. An anti-personnel missile, fired from a Reaper, lost it's target at the last second and landed no more than ten feet behind. Spraying shrapnel is every direction. Several pieces pelted the bike.
The driver of the Harley quickly looked back to catch a glimpse of the explosion. “Yee-hah, motherfuckers!” he yelled out triumphantly. He never saw the next aerial drone flying in fast from the side, and painting the bike with it's laser as soon as it was in range. By the time the young man noticed the red dot, it was too late. The incoming missile hit dead center on it's mark, just below the handle bars. The explosion blew out the front tire and killed the driver instantly. The bike flew forward end over end.
Joe was thrown into the air, landing head first onto the asphalt bike path. He bounced like a rag doll several times, shattering most of the bones in his body. Once he and the burning motorcycle came to halt, the Charles River bike path became eerily quiet. The traffic on Storrow Drive came to a stop. While all of the joggers and pedestrians jumped for cover or hurried away from the scene.
Joe regained consciousness moments later. He was on his back looking skyward. His body too broken to move. A hover drone flew in about twenty five feet directly above him. He stared blankly at the arcs of magnetized plasma shooting off in random directions. The sirens grew louder in the background. He tried to reach the capsule in his top shirt pocket, but couldn't move his right arm. It was broken and pinned behind his back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he murmured to himself. Blood spurt from his mouth as he swore.
He struggled to move his left arm, moving it only a few inches before giving up. He spit up more blood, then tried moving his left arm again with all his remaining strength. This time he was able to move the arm further, closer to his chest. He struggled for several more minutes. Finally, he was able to retrieve the little white pill and push it into his bloody mouth.
Joe laid in that spot unable to move for what seemed to him an extraordinarily long time, as if time had come to a halt. He shifted his gaze away from the hover drone and into the darkening sky, debating to himself when to bite down on the poison capsule lodged between his teeth. He could hear the police cruisers finally arriving, stopping on the roadway, no more than fifty feet from him. The first star of the night was out. No, it was a planet, he realized.
Hearing the pounding of feet from the Homeland Security police quickly approaching, Joe knew it was time. He bit down hard on the capsule and tried his best to swallow the liquid. He couldn't do it, his throat was too swollen to ingest the poison. Two Homeland Security soldiers came into his view, their guns drawn. The last words he heard before losing consciousness was one of the officers calling out, “Get the kit out. I think we'll be able to capture this one alive.”
THIRTEEN
Dylan rang the buzzer of the condominium, in the Mission Hill neighborhood of Boston, a little after seven o'clock Saturday evening. He stood in the brightly lit, glass walled foyer of the building, eying the pink marble stonework of the hallway on the other side of the glass. It exhibited a luxurious elegance, common for the upscale neighborhood. He was sharply dressed in a dark overcoat with a stylish blue suite and gold colored tie, carrying a bouquet of flowers at his side.
“Who is it?” a blond woman's face was displayed on the video screen above the buzzer. Dylan recognized Marla from the previous night. “Hi, it's Dylan.” A moment later the locking mechanism to the glass entryway door made a loud click. Dylan pushed the door open, walked down the corridor, and took the elevator to the ninth floor. Marla stood in the opened doorway, “Hi, come on in.” Before he could utter any kind of greeting, Marla turned and walked inside. He followed her in without saying a word. Shutting the door behind.
In the living room, she turned to face Dylan, “We never got formally introduced. Hi, I'm Marla.” She picked up her half filled glass of white wine from the coffee table and took a sip. She was dressed in a tight fitting tee shirt, about two sizes too small, cut off at her mid-riff, and a pair of black athletic sweat pants. “It's nice to meet you Marla,” Dylan said.
“Make yourself comfortable. She'll be out in a minute. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“I'm good, thanks,” he said.
“Well, I'm topping off my drink. Speak up if you change your mind.” She looked back at Dylan as she walked off into the kitchen, checking to see if he'd thought it over and wanted anything.
Dylan took off his overcoat and sat down on the sofa, putting the flowers on the coffee table. A couple of minutes later Tien walked into the living room, just as Marla was returning from the kitchen. Tien was wearing a sleek red dress along with a pair of matching red high heels. Her black hair was done up in a fashionable style. Dylan stood up, stepped towards her, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Wow, you look beautiful. I love your hair, it looks great,” he said. Tien smiled, “Thanks.” Dylan handed her the flowers, “For you.” “These are beautiful. I'll put them in water,” she said hurrying off to the kitchen.
“Have fun you two,” Marla said, carrying her topped off glass of wine to her bedroom.
At the Maki Maki restaurant, they sat at a table off to the side of the main room. The restaurant was crowded and a bit noisy, typical for a Saturday evening.
“I'm guessing you were able to get a reservation here because you're a Party member,” Tien said coyly. “Another perk I suppose. Comes in handy,” Dylan replied. The waiter arrived with their drinks. “Cheers,” Tien said, holding up a glass of iced tea. “Skoal,” he responded likewise with his diet coke.
“So, how long have you lived in Boston?” Tien asked.
“I've lived here all my life. I grew up in the suburbs and moved to the city to go to school over at MIT. Lived in Allston after graduating. And when I had enough money, I bought a place in the South End. How about you? How long have you lived here?”
Tien sipped her iced tea and looked around the room briefly before turning her gaze towards Dylan. “Eight years now. I moved here to go to Harvard when I was eighteen. I've lived all over the metro area; Cambridge, Somerville, Back Bay. I lived in Allston for a year and a half. We were probably neighbors.”
“Yeah, we probably were. Seems like everyone I meet has lived in Allston at one time or another.”
“The student ghetto, as we always called it,” Tien said.
“So where were you born?” Dylan asked, while taking a sip of his diet coke.
“I was born up in Connecticut. Grew up in the same town. A little coastal village on the commuter rail were my parents could take the train into Manhattan.” She took another sip of her drink, then continued, “My mother is a professor at NYU, she teaches political science. And my father is a senior vice president at AmeriPharm, a big drug company. They still take the train in every day together.”
“So does your family still live in the area? Any brothers and sisters?” Tien asked.
Dylan rubbed his fingers across his chin. “I come from a big family. Three brothers and three sisters. All older. I'm the baby of the family. Mom and dad still live in the same house I grew up in down in Scituate.”
The waiter finally arrived with their food. “Sauteed udon noodles with vegetables for the lady. And tenzaru noodles with shrimp tempura for the gentleman,” he said. A second waiter arrived carrying a sushi boat of assorted maki and nigiri. “Is there anything else I can get for you?” the waiter asked. “I'm good, thanks,” Dylan replied. Tien smiled, “Everything looks good.”
Dylan poured soy sauce into his small dish and starting mixing in wasabi. “How about you, any brothers or sisters?” He asked while the two prepared their dinners. Tien leaned over her plate, “This smells so good.” She picked up her chop sticks. “I'm an only child. I think
my parents were too busy with their careers to have a big family.” She scooped out some of the noodles, swirling them in her chopsticks.
While they ate, they couldn't resist uttering the usual 'ummm's'. The food really was that delicious. “This place is every bit as good as everyone's been saying,” Tien said. She twirled her chop sticks in the noodles again to pick up another bite. “I know, huh. These noodles are 'oh my god' good,” Dylan said.
The couple were nearly finished with their sushi when Tien asked her first predetermined question of the night. “So what made you decide to work for Homeland Security?” Dylan looked directly into her eyes and gave a slight shrug of his shoulders, “It was the best job around after I got my engineering degree. And as far as the engineering work I do there, well, I work on some pretty cool stuff.”
Tien nodded her head as she thought to herself the best way to prod forward, “How do you feel about what you're doing there? I mean, how do you feel about the technology that you make and how it impacts people lives?” Tien took the last sip of ice tea in her glass. Dylan answered automatically with what he's been telling himself ever since joining Homeland Security, “I work on projects that help protect our country from terrorism. So, I feel pretty good about that.”
Tien was slow to respond, not wanting to push any harder than she felt could, “Have you ever given it any thought as to who those terrorists are?” Before he was able to answer, the waiter approached the table to check if the couple needed anything else. Tien raised her hands to indicate no, “I'm all set, thanks.” “We'll take the check. Thanks,” Dylan said, shifting his glance from the waiter to Tien.
“OK, uhm, you asked about fighting terrorism,” Dylan said, as soon as the waiter left. “You know, I don't really bother myself with politics. I mean who does, right? I just do my job. Go home, have fun. The big bosses can figure out who the scumbag terrorists are. That's their job.”
After dinner the two caught the ten o'clock movie at the old art deco movie theater in Brookline. The classic Beatles film “A Hard Days Night” was playing. The theater was pretty much packed. Typical for the ten o'clock show on Saturday night. Dylan and Tien sat in the back row sharing a medium popcorn. “I like sitting in the back. It's more comfortable for me,” Tien whispered, while the movie was just getting started. “Yeah, I feel same way. I hate being crammed in and surrounded by a lots of people while I'm trying to watch a movie,” Dylan whispered back. Each had seen the movie numerous times in the past, so it wasn't like they had to pay a lot of attention to the Fab Four up on the screen.
After the movie, Dylan drove Tien home. He pulled his StarCruiser SUV into an available guest parking spot near the front of her condominium building. “I had a great time tonight,” Dylan said, trying to act nonchalant. He thought how to kiss her at the right moment without being awkward. That first kiss is always tricky to pull off. Tien was quick to respond, “I had a wonderful time tonight, as well.”
“Well, good night,” Dylan said. He leaned over and gave Tien a kiss on her lips. She responded with a short but passionate kiss. “Uhmm, would you like to come up for a drink?” she asked. Though before he could answer, she stipulated, “I mean just for a drink. I'm not inviting you up for sex. I really just don't want this night to end. Not yet.” Dylan looked into her eyes making sure he understood what she was saying. He let out a quick nervous laugh, then responded, “I promise. I won't make any moves. In fact, I promise even if you break down and make any moves on me, I'll stop you. How's that?” A huge grin spread across his face. Tien let out her own laugh, “Come on, let go upstairs.”
They sat on the living room sofa drinking lemon flavored seltzer water, chatting about pop culture and anything they could think of. Tien kicked off her shoes and dimmed the lights to make the room more cozy. “That's cool that you're a Beatles fan too,” Tien spoke quietly, trying not to wake Marla who had gone to bed early. “I love that movie. Besides the music, I just love watching those guys ham it up. It's kind of funny,” Dylan said, speaking softly. A silence ensued between them. They looked into each others eyes, communication a feeling between them that something special was going on. Dylan moved slowly towards her. Tien lunged for him, kissing him passionately. He pulled her close, feeling her breasts pressed against him. She ran her hands wildly through his hair as they kissed.
After several minutes, Tien pushed back. “Wow, that was......... that was........ something,” Tien couldn't find the right words. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push things,” Dylan cut in. “That's OK, that was both of us. It was nice. You're a really good kisser,” she said. “You're pretty good yourself,” Dylan returned the compliment. Tien stood up and offered him her hand. “Come on. Let's go into the kitchen. I'll make some decaf,” she said. He took her hand and followed her.
They sat on the tall stools to the kitchen island drinking their coffee, listening to jazz music playing on an old fashion radio, and talking into the early morning hours. Eventually Dylan spoke aloud what he was thinking, “Educated, athletic, christian, conservative. Come on you can't be that perfect. You have to have a flaw in there somewhere.” Tien laughed, “Hopefully someday you'll find out and still like me.” In wasn't much later on when Tien noticed Dylan trying to suppress a yawn. She gave him a knowing smile, took his coffee mug, and put it down on the counter. She gently took hold of his hand and led him to her bedroom. Reaching the bedroom door, Tien turned to face Dylan, “Remember what we said in the car?” Dylan nodded, “Yeah I said I wouldn't let you take advantage of me.” She let out a quiet laugh, turned and led him into her bedroom.
Tien issued a voice command for the computer, “Lights on, fifteen percent.” She walked over to her bureau while at the same time letting out her hair. “You can have that side of the bed,” she said pointing to the right side. “I like to sleep on the left side.” “That's fine with me,” he said. Tien removed her bracelets and placed them on the top of the bureau in a small open box. “The bathroom is down the hall first door on your right. There's a new toothbrush in the cabinet, you'll see it.” “Alrighty then,” Dylan said before heading out of the room.
Tien took off her dress, then her bra. She slipped on an old tee shirt and headed out of the room to use Marla's bathroom. When she returned she found Dylan in bed, lying on his side, his arm propping his head up. He looked tired yet managed a bright smile. His clothing was in a pile on the floor. She smiled back at him and shook her head in a playful manner. “Computer, lights off,” she said, before climbing into bed and snuggling up to him.
FOURTEEN
“Match point,” Dylan yelled to the other side of the brightly lit indoor tennis court. “Come on bro, give me what you got,” Brooks called back. Dylan served the ball, it was good. Brooks hit a nice return. The ball went back and forth, both men scrambling from side to side, until Dylan was able to hit it to the far side of the court where Brooks couldn't get over in time.
“Yes!” Dylan yelled. He pumped his fist in the air. Brooks threw his racket to the ground in frustration. He bent over and put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He didn't look so good.
The two friends played tennis at the Watertown indoor tennis club every Monday night. In the warmer months when the sun was out until much later in the day, they usually just found local public courts. But by the late Fall, it was time to play indoors. “Good game, man,” Brooks said as he met up with Dylan at the net in center court. “Yeah, good game,” Dylan answered.
They were evenly matched tennis players. Though lately, Dylan had been on a roll winning almost every set they played. The next two players who were waiting behind the fence jogged out to take their place. Dylan walked over and sat down on one of the benches in the warm up area, opening his water bottle and taking a gulp. Brooks tossed his racket on the bench and sat next to him.
“I have to stop smoking if I ev'ah want to beat you again,” Brooks said.
“Then it looks like you're nev'ah going to beat me again, man.”
/> Both were covered with sweat and tried catching their breath in between gulping down mouthfuls of bottled water.
“Lindsey called me today and confirmed they'll meet us for drinks at the Oak Bar at nine thirty tonight,” Brooks said. He took another swig of water and wiped his forehead with his towel.
“What do you mean 'they'll meet us'. Who's 'they'? You said that maybe your new girlfriend might join us for dinner. That was it,” Dylan responded. “I could have sworn I told you we were meeting Lindsey and her friend Karen tonight. Anyways, Lindsey told me that Karen is smoking hot and she loves to party. You can thank me later.”
Dylan shook his head. “I'm not going out with you tonight. I'm not meeting any of your bimbos.” Dylan got up and stood in front of his friend. “I told you how I felt about Tien. I'm serious.”
Brooks stood up and confronted Dylan. “Come on! This is me you're talking to. I know you better than anyone. Maybe better than yourself. Tien is a nice slice, sure. But she's just another slice. You've had, what, four dates so far. And you haven't even slept with her yet. So why are we even having this conversation?”
Dylan tossed his towel on the bench and took a few seconds to respond. “I'll say it again one more time. All I think about is her. I think about her when I get up in the morning, when I go to bed at night, and every moment in between. I've never felt this way about a woman before in my life. Ever!”
Brooks put his hand on Dylan's shoulder. He had a serious look and an even more serious tone in his voice. “Trust me, I know you. After you finally get her into bed, you'll be head over heels in love. Then after a few weeks, six weeks tops, you'll be eying out another delicious slice. Come on, you've been in love how many times now? I can't even keep track. Buddy, this is who you are. I know it and you know it. And you're going to kick yourself tomorrow if you pass up on this opportunity with Karen.” He took his hand off Dylan's shoulder and reached down to pick up his tennis racket.
