“I was afraid you’d feel that way,” said Snake Eyes, nodding to someone standing behind Mason.
Mason quickly spun around, as the pilot lunged, holding a sharp knife in his hand. He slashed down with the knife but Mason stepped back, narrowly avoiding the blade, as it sliced through the front of his jacket. The pilot swung the knife again, only this time from the side. Striking Mason on his right bicep, and leaving behind a deep, long, jagged cut.
Mason jabbed the man in the face with his left fist, and was rewarded with the crunching sound of his enemy’s nose breaking. He then knocked the knife from the pilot’s hand, as the man screamed out in pain. Mason quickly retrieved the knife from the ground, while the pilot frantically reached for his gun. Now armed with the knife, Mason tossed it into the air and caught it by the blade. He threw the knife in the same blur of motion, and watched with satisfaction, as it lodged itself in the man’s throat.
Mason quickly drew his gun from its holster and spun back around to face Snake Eyes, but it was too late. He’d already jumped into the black sedan and was now speeding away. Mason held his fire, not wanting to draw attention and turned back to face the pilot. The man had fallen to the tarmac and was lying sprawled out in a puddle of his own blood. He was holding the hilt of the knife, while choking on his blood, when suddenly his body began twitching violently and then he died. Mason immediately turned and started back toward the plane.
“That’s far enough,” called the co-pilot, from the top of the stairs. He held a gun to Cleo’s head and was using her as a human shield. “Take another step and the girl gets it.”
Mason smiled and lowered his gun, he knew better than to believe that Cleo was in any danger. Very slowly and deliberately, he holstered the weapon and displayed his empty hands for the co-pilot to see.
“You make it too easy,” taunted the man, as a grin spread across his face.
The co-pilot removed the gun from Cleo’s head and pointed it at Mason, which was his second mistake. His first mistake was taking Cleo hostage. Cleo didn’t hesitate. Once the muzzle of the gun was no longer pressed to her temple, she brought the heel of her boot down hard on the co-pilots toes, causing him to scream out in pain.
Then, with her left hand, she reached up and grabbed hold of the wrist that held the gun. She twisted his wrist, and broke the bone with one quick motion. The co-pilot never saw it coming and he dropped his gun, shrieking in agony. Cleo then turned to face the man and brought her knee up into his groin, as hard as she could. He grunted and fell forward down the steps, landing on the tarmac below.
Cleo quickly bent down and withdrew a small switch blade from within her boot and followed the man down the stairs. When she reached the bottom of the steps, where the man laid whimpering and holding his broken wrist, she grabbed a clump of his hair. Cleo pulled his head back to expose his neck and was about to slit his throat, when Mason stopped her.
“Wait,” said Mason, walking over to where the man lay defeated. Cleo followed Mason’s instructions and just stood there, holding the man’s hair so that Mason could speak to him.
“Please, please don’t kill me,” cried the co-pilot. “I was just following an order, that’s all. It’s nothing personal.”
“You tried to bloody kill us! It doesn’t get any more personal than that,” hissed Cleo in disgust.
“Oh I’m gonna let ya live,” replied Mason. “A dead man tells no tales and I want you to deliver a message to Snake Eyes. Tell him I’m willing to let things lay as they are, but if I so much as think that I’m being followed, I will find him and I will kill him. Do you understand?”
“Yes, yes I got it!”
“Good,” said Mason. “Let him go.”
Cleo immediately did as instructed, closing her knife, and replacing it in her boot. The two agents watched as the man stumbled away, holding his crippled wrist in his hand.
“Sorry about that mate,” said Cleo. “He got the drop on me.”
“No problem,” replied Mason. “We need to hurry up and get the plane refueled and then get out of here, before they decide to come back.”
“No worries,” said Cleo, full of excitement. “You create a flight plan while I get the fuel. Let’s get the hell out of here!”
“Sounds good,” agreed Mason, as he turned and ascended the steps to the airplane. Back onboard the jet, Mason found the flight attendant crouched down behind one of the seats hiding. “Get out!” he ordered, and watched as she scurried from the plane. After refueling, they pulled up the stairs and taxied down the runway. Once they were in the air, Cleo joined Mason in the cockpit, and sat down in the co-pilot’s seat.
“So, where are we headed?” she asked, as she strapped herself in.
“Albuquerque, New Mexico,” answered Mason. “I have a storage unit there with supplies that we’ll need.”
“Is that where your family is?”
“No, but it isn’t far from there. Why don’t you patch up my arm and then get some rest,” he suggested.
The flight from Manchester, England to New York City took about eight hours from runway to runway. While Mason piloted the jet over the Atlantic Ocean, Cleo cleaned and bandaged the cut on his arm.
When the agents arrived in New York they discovered that the electricity was still out, leaving them with no way of refueling. So instead, they left the jet on the tarmac and headed toward the airport parking garage, in search of a car to steal.
Land of Enchantment
The Vanishing – Day 7
Albuquerque, New Mexico
It took Mason and Cleo several days of driving and siphoning gas to reach Albuquerque. Cleo awoke, when Mason pulled to a stop in front of his storage unit, number twenty-one. He unlocked the padlock, bent down to grab hold of the handle, and lifted open the large metal door. It made a clicking sound, as it rolled up into position above them.
The storage unit was the largest available and it was full of state-of-the-art equipment; including weapons, money, ID’s, a large black Hummer with tinted windows, and that was just scratching the surface. Over the years Mason had filled it with everything that he’d hoped he would never need.
“Wow,” said Cleo, clapping her hands together and laughing. “Who needs the Company? We’ve got our very own mobile government. But will any of it even work?”
“Of course,” said Mason, as he tapped the inside walls of the storage unit. “I encased this entire unit with a faraday cage in the event of an electro-magnetic blast.”
“That’s bloody genius mate,” exclaimed Cleo. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you knew this was all going to happen.”
“Let’s get it all loaded,” replied Mason, as he began filling the Hummer with weapons and equipment. Within the hour, they were fully loaded and back on the road, headed north to Santa Fe.
Mason had moved his family to Santa Fe, New Mexico about two years ago, after his wife had finally had enough of the hustle and bustle of Washington D.C. He had to admit that the move had been a good idea, especially now that the city no longer existed.
“Is this it?” asked Cleo, when Mason pulled to a stop in front of a quaint, two story adobe house.
“Yeah,” he answered, taking a deep breath.
“How long has it been since you’ve been home?”
“Too long,” frowned Mason, realizing it was close to six months since he’d last seen his family. His children would’ve grown quite a bit. Mason couldn’t seem to stop his hands from shaking, nor the butterflies in his belly. He laughed at himself a little, thinking of the countless dangers that he’d previously conquered. He’d no idea that seeing his family would cause so much anxiety.
“So what are ya waiting for?” asked Cleo. “Don’t you wanna see them?”
“Of course I do,” snapped Mason. “It’s just that it’s been awhile and, and…”
“And what?” encouraged Cleo.
“And, wait here for a minute.”
“Bloody hell ya cry baby, if I had any family lef
t, nothing could keep me from them, especially not nerves.”
“I said, wait here,” snapped Mason.
“Whatever,” hissed Cleo, as she folded her arms in front of her and leaned back into the seat, pretending to take a nap. “Let me know when you grow a pair.”
Ignoring Cleo’s comments, Mason opened the door and climbed down from the Hummer. He was halfway across the front lawn, when he saw one of the living room curtains move. When Mason reached the front door, he found it locked but what bothered him, was that his key wouldn’t unlock it. He knocked twice but no answer came. So instead, he tried ringing the door bell, still nothing. Mason knew there was someone inside, but he didn’t know why they weren’t answering the door. Where was everyone?
Mason tried to peer in the window, but couldn’t see much because all of the curtains were drawn closed. He started walking around to the backyard, to check the rear door, and as he did, he glanced toward the Hummer. Cleo was still sitting in the passenger seat, with her arms folded, pretending to not be interested.
*******
“They’re here,” said Bruno, into the hand-held radio. “What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing,” replied Snake Eyes, from the other end of the radio. “Just don’t let them out of your sight.”
“Are you sure?” asked Bruno. “I have a clear shot. I can take them both out, no problem.”
“I said no!” hissed Snake Eyes. “I need them alive, do you understand?”
“Yes,” replied Bruno, disappointed. He’d been lying in wait for several days now and was becoming a little impatient. Bruno Salvador was not a government agent like Mason and Cleo. Although he’d worked for many different governments, he had loyalties to none. He was a contract killer who worked alone, preferring to avoid the restrictions and entanglements of operating under a chain of command.
“What are they doing?” asked Snake Eyes.
“He can’t get into his house,” replied Bruno. “Now he is going around to the back.”
“And the woman?”
“She is just sitting in the car waiting.”
“Alright, let me know if anything changes,” instructed Snake Eyes. “We’ll be there shortly.”
“Of course.” Bruno didn’t like being told what to do, but this time he was willing to make an allowance. If someone wanted his services they had to pay, and the price was very, very high.
Bruno had arrived on the scene within hours of receiving the call from Snake Eyes. Although he didn’t like working for the man he did enjoy the deep pockets of the United States government. And lately, under the new administration, they’d been seeking his services more and more frequently. The majority of his clients hired him to kill, which was what he specialized in. But this time, he’d been hired to capture.
When Bruno arrived in Santa Fe, it didn’t take him long to locate Mason’s house. He spent the first few hours sitting in his car out on the street, watching and waiting. After a little reconnaissance, he came to the conclusion that of all the houses surrounding Mason’s, the one directly across the street offered the clearest line of sight. The unfortunate couple who lived in the house had just sat down to eat, when they heard Bruno’s knock on the door.
After hogtieing and gagging the couple, he locked them in the upstairs bathroom. Bruno quickly set up his cameras and sound equipment near the front windows. He then positioned his sniper rifle on the dining room table, facing Mason’s house. When everything was set, Bruno helped himself to some of the stew that the couple had been eating when he’d arrived. He sat at the end of the table and ate in silence.
Now, several days later, his prey had finally arrived and he wouldn’t have to endure the pleas from the couple upstairs for very much longer. Bruno settled into position behind the dining room table and peered down the scope of his rifle. A grin slowly spread across his face, as he took careful aim. He wasn’t supposed to kill them, but no one had said anything about maiming them, just a little.
*******
Mason opened the tall wooden gate that led to the backyard and walked through. The yard was just as he remembered it, with the exception of the upkeep. The lawn needed mowing, and the trees and bushes needed pruning. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, as he walked across the overgrown grass, toward the back door.
Once again, he found the door locked. However, the top of this door was made out of thin glass, which Mason broke easily with his fist. Reaching his hand through the broken glass, he unlocked the door and turned the knob. The door creaked, as it slowly swung open and Mason peered inside to find the kitchen empty. Judging by the dirty dishes and the dust on the counter, the kitchen hadn’t been used for some time.
“Hello?” called Mason, but there was no response. “Honey, kids, I’m home,” again there was no answer. Mason quickly withdrew his gun.
He was halfway through the kitchen, headed to the dining room, when he heard a thump from upstairs. He quickly headed through the living room toward the staircase. As he rounded the corner, he saw two shadows disappearing out the front door.
Mason started to chase after them, when a hard object came crashing down on the back of his head. Everything suddenly went dark, as though a heavy, black curtain had just been dropped over him. Mason felt himself falling for what seemed like an eternity, before hitting the floor with a thud.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself lying on his back, at the foot of the steps. His head was resting in Cleo’s lap and she was gently dabbing at the dried blood on his scalp, using a damp washcloth.
“Are you alright?” she asked, her eyes full of concern and worry.
“Yeah I think so,” answered Mason, as he sat up and looked around. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” Cleo helped Mason, as he clumsily climbed to his feet and stood there teetering. “I saw two kids come running out of the house, followed by an older bloke a few ticks later. They looked homeless, judging by the clothes they wore and the packs that they carried.”
“And you didn’t stop them,” moaned Mason.
“I didn’t know I was supposed to,” hissed Cleo. “Besides,” she teased, “look at the damage they did to you. They might have been dangerous.”
“Please? I was distracted. It won’t happen again! What’s your excuse?” Mason grumbled, rubbing his head and leaning against the wall.
“Ya told me to wait in the bloody car. Remember? You haven’t slept for a really long time. You need to get some rest.”
“I’ll rest when I find my family.”
“If you last that long,” retorted Cleo. “Speaking of your family, where are they?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Have you searched the house yet?”
“Yes,” answered Cleo, “but I didn’t find anything. The house doesn’t seem to have been lived in for some time,” she added reluctantly, not wanting to give him the bad news.
Mason was a hero to Cleo. She’d never known a man with such confidence and capability. A man who could endure so much, yet always come out on top. Over the years, she’d never seen him fail at anything. Which was why she was so worried about him now. The fact that he’d been surprised and taken down by a mere homeless man was shocking. Cleo tried to shake the thought that Mason could be losing his edge. He was probably just tired and distracted over the loss of his family.
Mason walked through the house, conducting his own search. He was looking for any sign of what had happened to his wife and kids. It appeared, as though they’d departed quickly. He found two suitcases missing, as well as some of his wife’s clothes. Yet for some reason, none of his children’s clothes were missing. Why would she pack a bag for herself and then leave without packing anything for the kids?
“What do ya wanna do?” asked Cleo, as Mason descended the staircase.
He walked past her, without answering, and opened the living room curtains. Through the window, he could see directly into the next door neighbor’s house. Across the lawn, staring back at
him was a little old woman with silver hair, tied up in a bun. Her eyes were full of horror and she seemed to be trembling.
“Let’s go next door and speak with the neighbor,” said Mason, as he turned and headed for the door. “Perhaps she saw something.”
They walked next door and up onto the porch of the little old lady’s house. Mason knocked on the door but no answer came. He rang the doorbell, but again no response.
“Maybe no one is home,” suggested Cleo.
“She’s here,” said Mason. “Step back from the door.”
“You aren’t gonna kick it in are ya? Here,” Cleo grabbed hold of the door knob and turned it. The door was not locked and it slowly swung halfway open. “Ya see mate, sometimes nice and gentle is the best approach.”
“Hello,” called Mason, through the open door. “We know you’re in there ma’am, we just need to talk to you.” He stuck his head through the door and then quickly pulled it out. “Look out!” yelled Mason, as he grabbed Cleo and shoved her to the ground. The blast from a double barreled shotgun barely missed them, as it blew a hole through the door.
“Hold your fire ma’am,” called out Mason. “My name’s Michael Mason, I live next door and my family is missing. Can we come in and talk?”
Mason slowly got into a squatting position and peered around the door, which now hung on its hinges. He saw the little old lady crouched at the end of the hall. Her small quivering hands held a double barreled shotgun, pointed at the entrance. Small tendrils of smoke were rising from both barrels. Mason slowly walked into the house, holding his hands up high where she could see them, as Cleo quickly popped out from behind the wall to cover him.
“What’s your name?” asked Mason, bending down and gently taking the shotgun from the old woman’s trembling hands.
“I, I don’t want to die,” cried the old woman.
“No one is going to hurt you,” said Mason, holding the old woman’s hand in his. “I’m just trying to find my family. They lived next door. Have you seen them?”
The Vanishing (The End of Time Chronicles Book 1) Page 14
