Through the pain, she smiled and said, “Yeah, maybe you are right.”
“Of course I’m right, but flattery will get you nowhere.” Truthmore tapped his chin, then put his left hand up, motioning in a circle., “Ah, I’ve got it now. I know how you lean—"
Marisha brought her right hand down and back in one fluid motion, slapping the knife-wielding hand away. It wasn’t quite fast enough; the knife’s point grazed her lower back. She brought her left hand around, grabbing his wrist as her body pivoted to face him. Her right hand looped over the top, grabbing that same wrist. His hand bent backward, becoming nearly parallel to his arm. Truthmore yelped in pain and let go of the knife. Marisha’s left hand snatched the weapon, and she sliced it across right his shoulder, drawing blood. It all took less than a second, and it had reduced him to a sniveling pile of spinless garbage.
“You were saying something? I want to give you the opportunity to finish running your mouth.” Marisha put her hand up to her ear and waited. “Nothing? That’s weird, you had a lot to say earlier. I had this whole menacing villain thing pictured, and now, all I see is someone trying not to wet himself like a newborn baby.”
She felt the blood rushing back into her limbs. A devilish smile formed as her eyes clawed at his soul.
“Listen here you—” Her left backhand slammed into his face, nearly spinning his head around. Truthmore spat out a mouthful of blood and sneered.
“No. Just no,” she said, “What you are going to do is replace me in that closet over there. I don’t need you getting loose again,” she said, using the knife in her hand to point in its direction.
“You know you should have killed me when you had a chance,” he said, his words punctuated by a lisp.
“I considered it; I really did. In the end, we have to be better than you, and to do that, we can’t be killers when we don’t have to be. If that happens by sending you back to where you came from with your tail between your legs, then that is what I’ll do.”
A maniacal laugh escaped his throat, “Suit yourselves. You know I won’t give up until she’s dead.”
“I do, and for that reason, I will relish when we meet again, and hopefully next time I won’t have to show you mercy.”
He started to say something, but as he sat on the floor, defeated, she took her heel and dug it into the fresh wound. “Now, do me a favor and get your pathetic self into that closet.”
Twenty-Four
Colleen
The sound of glass crunching underfoot alerted Colleen that she had her first visitor. It’s the oldest alarm system in the book, but it worked every time. People will look up to see something swinging at their faces while ignoring the bomb beneath their feet. The sounds of heavy boots continue getting ever closer to her.
It looks like he didn't mind announcing his arrival. Nothing changes, I see.
The noisy footsteps stop, then start up again. They have to know someone can hear them.
Truthmore always did like to make an entrance, but even this is too much for him.
From her hiding spot in the front office, she didn’t dare tip her hand to Truthmore just yet. He was hoping that she would be weak enough to play his game with his rules. He had tricked her once, but it wouldn’t happen again.
She placed her ear against the steel door, held her breath, and listened. Either the intruder had stopped or he had made it past her system. She swallowed hard.
He has to be on the other side of the door, or—
Thunk!
The barricaded office door bounced off her head. Colleen wearily shook the pain off, but it caused the ringing in her ears to become more unbearable.
Gathering her thoughts, Colleen squatted and slowly backed out of the office's rear entrance that led to the imaging rooms. Her head pounded, swimming like she was bobbing up and down in an ocean of fog. With one errant step, her foot knocked the wood wedged under the door loose. She tried to stop it, but it was too late; its rusty hinges had already announced her movement. There was another violent attack on the door and in seconds, they would be through.
She turned and ran into the MRI room. The entire plan to be stealthy had gone out the window. Dropping to her hands and knees, she felt along the baseboards, hoping to avoid any obstacles she had previously placed. After what felt like an eternity, her right hand finally grabbed a door jamb while feeling around in the dark.
Colleen pulled herself up and flicked her flameless lighter. She was exactly where she wanted to be. There were three rooms on each side of the wide hallway. She had entered the one on the far right-hand side. Before she could take another breath, the sound of a shotgun blast filled the room. He’s coming.
As she backed away, heavy footsteps echoed against the tile floors. With each step, she listened, waiting for Truthmore to say something. Colleen slid behind the radiation barrier in the back corner and waited.
“Vhere…are…you,” a soft, if not utterly unthreatening voice asked. “Come out, my lee-ttle dove. Do you not vant to play?”
His voice, although muffled, sounded different. The tone, the intonation, and even how he said his W’s were all off. She had to admit she hadn’t actually seen Truthmore walk through that door; it was just something that had been taken for granted. Truthmore sending someone else to do his dirty work felt off.
“Lee-tle dove,” there it was again. Unless Truthmore had picked up a foreign accent on the trip over, she had to be dealing with someone else.
“Vhere are—"
It only took her a second to realize who it was. It all made sense; this had to be the shooter. She heard the door to the room next to her fly open, slamming against the wall.
Why would Truthmore send someone else? He would want to be here. Why would he let someone else have the opportunity to kill what he wants most?
The steps slowly receded into the next room and then back out again. From her vantage point, she saw a shadow appear in the doorway, nearly blocking out all the light. Instead of entering, the male figure stood there, peering in, trying to make out the objects in the room. Almost as if on cue, they back out and took cover behind the door, clearly startled by something.
“Tricky, tricky,” his muted voice said from behind the wall.
Damn, I almost had him. He’s smarter than I expected. Maybe he just needs some motivation.
Digging into her back pocket, she fished out her slingshot. Colleen hadn’t replenished her collection of ammo in a few days and only had a few small stones, nothing with much weight. She sifted her hands over the floor, looking for anything that might cause more damage. Her hand passed over a magnet, still not exactly what she wanted, but with a pinpoint shot, even a mountain of man would crumble.
“I would've thought Truthmore would have sent a more formidable foe to take me on,” she paused then let out a sarcastic chortle.
He patiently waited outside the door, keeping any body part he thought was vital was out of view. Unfortunately for him, he had underestimated her opportunistic spirit and his cover. She placed the object in the leather pouch and fired in one fluid motion. The sound of a knee shattering resonated throughout the room. Immediately, she was up, moving around the MRI machine and out the door as he remained down on one knee, moaning.
Thinking she had cleared the door before he could react, Colleen didn’t see his arm reach out to grab her leg until it was too late. It was like a lasso had encircled her, pulling her down. No matter how hard she tried to yank herself free, it was useless. His fingers tightened with every pull.
In the light that crept through the open door, Colleen could make out a patchwork face, covered with a mixture of fresh cuts and old ones that hadn’t healed properly. His hair grew in patches and was long enough to reach his eyes. They weren't full of anger, but devoid of emotion. Looking down at her leg, it became apparent why only one hand had taken hold. On his left arm was a crude metal pinching hook, fashioned from iron and wood, a lethal weapon attached at the elbow. She pulled away again just
as his weaponized arm hit the ground where her leg had been. Sparks flew up, and shrapnel exploded in a puff of smoke, causing her to flinch.
“Let,” she kicked her leg straight down, landing hard on top of his head. He held tight. “Me,” she kicked again. This time, even harder, but he still held his death grip on her ankle. “Go!”
With the last kick, she stunned him enough to make him let up. His hook shot forward, nearly missing her but drawing the faintest bit of blood. She grabbed for anything within reach, coming up empty. He prepared to slash at her again, but she spun around and drove her foot into his skull, knocking him temporarily unconscious. Colleen howled out in pain as she came down on her leg wrong, the weight shifting awkwardly, but she was free.
The room directly across from her was open and full of enough errant equipment to at least provide a temporary hiding spot. All she needed to do was get away long enough to get her plan in motion again. With an obliterated knee cap, he wouldn’t be able to keep up. She read the sign above the door.
CT Scanning in progress.
She ducked inside and found a place to set up. Drawing her assailant in here would buy her just enough time to return to the MRI room. When he hobbled inside, she landed another shot to his knee. He buckled when he tried to lunge after her, “You b—”
Digging into her pockets, she fired her last rock, a bullseye to the Adams apple. He was barely phased, still coming after her with white-hot rage. Colleen knew he saw her, and she had let him get closer than she liked. She disappeared through the back door, knowing he would get turned around inside.
Once Colleen had returned to the MRI room, she checked to make sure that everything was still in working order. She heard Artem on his arduous journey back to the exit, his hooked hand loudly scraping against the wall. It was time to take her place again.
Dragging his left leg behind him, the mountain of a man was limping to the beat of the metallic click of his right leg. His pant leg had pushed up, displaying his marvel of post-Shifting engineering. While crude and industrial, the contraption had a steampunk quality. With polished steel, rusted springs, and aluminum, it was crafted with pride. Colleen was confident that it was probably never his intention in life to be a mercenary for a weak-minded fascist, killing people without thought or conscience. If she could've just walked away, she would’ve, but it wasn’t a choice. He wouldn’t stop until she was dead.
He shuffled by the closet door, not taking notice of it being slightly ajar. Once he was in the middle of the hallway, she pulled the bandage attached to the skeleton. Its shadow moved enough to get his attention, causing him to approach the MRI room again. She pulled again, only this time harder. He perched on the outside of the door; his right leg was exposed this time. Reaching inside his jacket, he winced and then unholstered a snub nose revolver. She pulled the gauze gently as he aimed and pulled the trigger. The pistol let out an earsplitting boom, setting off the ringing in her ears again. She yanked as hard as she could, pulling the wheels out from under the bone and metal contraption. He slid back behind cover and waited.
“Ah, lee-tle one. You have chosen poorly.”
She pulled again, “Oh my dear, I'm bleeding. Please, sir, please have mercy. Have pity on me.” It might have been a tad too dramatic sounding for her taste, but it did the trick. She let out a wet, sickly cough on top of it all, to make it even more convincing.
“Oh, I have mercy on you. I’ll show you mercy.”
As he entered the room, he stayed to the left, cautiously approaching. As soon as Artem was out of sight, she left her post and moved out the door and into the hallway, careful to avoid his periphery. The maintenance closet that held the breaker box was still a tight fit, but she slipped in and waited.
“Lee-tle da-uve,” he said, “I have vour medicine.”
“No,” she said under her breath, “It’s time for you to take yours.”
Colleen flipped the breaker, and the electricity hummed to life. A huge thunk filled the MRI room. She exited the closet and sprinted to the door. Inside, Artem had fallen to the floor as the colossal magnet pulled him to towards the machine. He struggled to get up, but his arm flew back and violently collided against the machine, shattering the brittle plastic. A sizeable hole had opened up, exposing the blindingly fast-moving internals. He struggled to remove his arm, but his leg was too weak to resist the magnetic forces.
“I…see…you ‘ave…tricked me,” he said, fumbling aimlessly with the leather fasteners that held on his prostheses.
His right arm, still holding onto the pistol, struggled to pull free. The tendons flexed and veins pumped in his hand as he turned his wrist to aim. Colleen grabbed a metal tray and flung it towards the machine. It hurtled towards him at extraordinary speed, knocking the gun free. He said nothing and didn’t call out in pain.
The lights flickered but stayed lit. Colleen wouldn’t have much longer before the limited reserve power would be gone. His head was slowly drifting towards the center of the machine. A look of acceptance crossed his face. She could let him go or end it all. Letting him go would only serve to grow the hate inside him, and she would have to live in fear. Yet, mercy was still an option. Her mother had taught her that. The lights flickered again, faster now, as the hum of the machine began to slow. She walked to him and waited, keeping her hand on her necker knife.
His body lunged forward, inches from her face. It was too fast for her to get her knife; Colleen slammed her palms into his chest, knocking him back into the machine. She gasped at the sickening thud coupled with a crack of his skull as it bounced off the spinning internals. He was powerless as his body was sucked into the middle of the machine. She could see the light go out in his eyes and his body go limp.
A pan zoomed by her head, flying end over end, and slammed into his chest. Next, flashes of silver and black flew like slow-moving ammunition. One by one, they bounced off his lifeless body; the sharpest implements implanting themselves in him.
“Who the—” Colleen said, snapping around. Behind her stood Marisha, eyes glazed over, and her arm raised with more items to throw. Colleen reached down and pulled the plug on the machine. She saw Marisha wipe her forehead and then run her fingers through matted hair.
“You never can be too sure. Besides, I’m not losing anyone else today,” she said.
Twenty-Five
Colleen
“Where’s Truthmore?” Colleen asked, in between labored breaths as she doubled over with her hands on her knees.
“You’re welcome,” Marisha said coldly, her eyes expressionless.
Colleen reached toward her, hoping to snap her out of the trance, “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. I just… I just want to be absolutely sure he’s gone. Where is he?”
Marisha motioned with her head down, and to the left, her body was trembling just standing there. Her breaths were short and ragged as she struggled to focus. Colleen stepped forward and threw her arms around her stiff body, enveloping her. Within seconds, Marisha melted into her and cried. Colleen couldn’t remember seeing her like this before, and they had been through much worse.
“I need to know you are okay,” Colleen said, her voice sounded like her mother's, “It’s okay. We did what we had to do, and it’s over. He’s dead.”
“You don’t, you don’t know…” Marisha picked at the cuticle of her middle finger on her left hand. Slow at first, quickly ramping up. Quickly, it turned red, and eventually, it started bleeding. Her face betraying no signs of pain. The right hand could no longer stay still as she wrapped an index finger around a lock of hair, twisting and untwisting it. As soon as she would let up even a bit, Marisha would sob once more.
“I don’t what?” Colleen waved it off, “it is, we will be fine. Trust me.” She took a breath and continued, “I need to know if he’s dead. The one who came for me today, Truthmore.”
Marisha shook her head and pulled away, motioning for Colleen to follow her. They descended the stairs, passing all the carnage once
more.
“He’s in there,” she said, pointing to the closet where she had locked him up.
“You just left him there?”
“I didn't have any other choice.”
Colleen ran towards the closet but stopped short before trying the door. It all seemed so anticlimactic. If she was brutally honest, there was some disappointment that she wasn’t the one to have taken him down.
Was this really how it would all end between the two of us?
Colleen unholstered her weapon and drew it out to the ready, then placed her other hand on the door handle and opened it. Instinctually, she jumped back and yelled, “Don’t move!”
But instead of a cold-blooded killer, she was greeted by emptiness.
“He was just here,” Marisha said. “I, I locked him up, and then I, I came to help you. How could he have escaped?”
“Did you search him?”
“No, there wasn’t enough time. Oh, my god! I’m so sorry. I promise you; he was just here.”
Colleen rubbed her temples, taking long, purposeful breaths. She then cupped Marisha’s face in her hands, kissed her forehead, moving down to her perfectly symmetrical lips. The cold weather had dried hers, almost to the point of soreness, but Marisha’s were still the same soft, rosy pink pillows that carried an electric charge. This wasn't the time to be upset with her.
“It’s okay,” she said, pulling back, “if I know him like I think I do, he’s long gone by now.”
The door slammed behind them, and Colleen turned around. Marisha pulled her down behind the desk as they took cover, both drawing their guns.
“It’s us, it's us! Don’t shoot. Seriously, Copper,” Chenoa said, “You know, a less dramatic entry would have been more logical.”
“She’s got a point,” Marisha said.
“She’s got the point,” Cooper mocked, sticking his tongue out at her.
The Maddening: Book 2 in the Terror Saga Page 11
