As soon as the door closed, Smythe turned back to Henry. "Now that we have this little understanding, are you ready to tell me what part you—"
Henry flexed the muscles in his forearm, causing the frayed zip ties to snap. Once his hands were free, he lunged forward, swinging his fist with all of his might at Smythe's jaw. His fist connected with it, producing a dull thud and knocking Smythe onto the floor. Smythe was clearly stunned. He lay on the floor stupefied. Knowing that time was against him, Henry reached down and pulled with all his strength, breaking the zip ties that were securing his legs to the chair.
After he was free, he ran around the table where Smythe had recovered from Henry's punch. Smythe reached for something in his inside coat pocket. But before he could retrieve it, Henry grabbed Smythe's hand. Smythe reacted by slamming his right knee up into the side of Henry's chest, causing him to release his grip.
Smythe rolled over and away from Henry, putting some distance between the two. He abandoned whatever was in his coat pocket and rushed towards Henry. Just before he reached him, he lowered his head and sprung forward, spearing Henry in the gut and slamming him into the wall behind him. Henry grappled with Smythe for a few moments before he shoved Smythe away. As the two combatants moved apart, Henry spun around, kicking his right leg out, which struck Smythe right in the chest and catapulted him across the room, where he slammed into the table.
Smythe tumbled over the table, knocking his laptop and everything else on the table to the floor. He quickly regained his footing, grabbed one of the metal chairs next to him, and launched it across the room at Henry.
Henry dove to the left, dodging the flying missile, and rolled to absorb the blow before hitting the cement ground, allowing him to get to his feet. Before Henry was steady, Smythe picked up another chair and threw it at him. Henry tried to dodge it, but it slammed into his hip as he dove out of the way.
Pain exploded down his leg and up his back as he fell to the floor. Henry's instincts and training kicked in, and he quickly scrambled to his feet, grabbing the chair that had struck him and slamming it against the door at an angle. The door’s locking mechanism released. The chair wouldn't hold for long, but hopefully, it would hold out long enough for him to give Smythe one hell of a beating.
The guards outside the room threw their bodies against the door, trying to force it open, but the chair firmly held it in place. Henry smiled at his good fortune and charged forward.
Smythe dropped the device in his hand to the floor. Henry surmised that it must have been some sort of panic button, warning the guards outside. He kicked the metal table with his right leg, forcing it to slam into Smythe's thighs, knocking him backwards and pinning him against the wall. Henry then jumped on the table and attempted to punch Smythe's panicking face.
Smythe maneuvered to the left, blocking Henry's punch. Then, with his free hand, he smashed his fist into Henry's right kidney. When the blow hit Henry’s side, pain exploded throughout his midsection, causing him to stagger back, falling off the table in pain. Both men took a moment to gauge the other’s next move, as they clearly had underestimated each other’s ability.
The door behind Henry boomed with a steady cadence of thumps, coming from the guards who were throwing their weight against the door. One of the bangs caused a chair to move ever so slightly. Henry knew he was running out of time. Smiling, Smythe adjusted his tie, raised his hands up in the air, and slowly walked around the table.
It was the kind of smile Henry imagined on a cat when it walked up to a wounded mouse. Henry had to do something drastic and quick. He grabbed the metal chair that held the door closed and spun it around with all of his strength, slamming it into Smythe's face.
Henry heard the sickening crunch of Smythe’s nose as it collapsed under the impact of the chair. Blood gushed from the damage, staining Smythe’s dress shirt and pooling onto the floor beneath him, where he had crumpled unconscious.
The door burst open and four armed guards stood in the entrance with Mr. Perkins standing behind them. Henry tried to catch his breath from the exertion of the fight. Blood trickled down his chin from the corner of his lip.
He wiped the blood from his face and looked at Mr. Perkins grimly. "I'm glad to see that I've gotten your attention. Now tell me how in the hell you’re going to help me save my brother and his team."
The guards parted, allowing Mr. Perkins to casually walk into the room. He made his way over to where Smythe laid unconscious on the floor. He nudged his head with his leather loafers (which probably cost as much as Henry made in two weeks).
"Pray, tell me how you know about that?" Mr. Perkins inquired as he waved for two guards to take Smythe away for medical attention.
"What does that matter?" Henry snarled.
Mr. Perkins came further into the room and pulled out a chair for Henry. "Please take a seat."
Henry hesitated for a moment, wondering what kind of trap this could be. Mr. Perkins pointed towards a chair and asked him to sit down again. Rather than sitting in the chair Mr. Perkins offered, he pulled up one of the others and sat. Mr. Perkins shrugged and waved the remaining guards away. They left, but this time, they made sure to keep the door open.
After they left, Mr. Perkins walked over to the metal table and sat down on it, looking down at Henry. "Let me start by apologizing for your treatment this evening. I know Roger has held a grudge against you for some time, and unfortunately, with this attack on our servers by your friend in the next room—"
Henry interrupted. "Why wasn’t I notified of Rick's mission to Ireland?"
Mr. Perkins stood, adjusted his super expensive silk jacket, and slowly paced across the room before turning around to face Henry.
"Henry, may I call you Henry? I could give you so many reasons why, but legally I don't have to inform you of anything that pertains to your brother or the mission he is currently undergoing."
Mr. Perkins pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to Henry.
"The reason you were not informed is simple: it was none of your business. Plus, it had nothing to do with any of the departments you are in charge of. Was it a mistake to leave you out of the loop? Possibly. However, right now, we need your talented friend to disable whatever it is that is preventing us from shutting down your brother’s distress signal. If you can convince him to do that, then you and I can sit down and have a civil conversation about how we can help your brother and his team."
Henry sighed. "What assurances do I have that you will not just throw me and Lenny into a dark hole after he disables the security block?"
Mr. Perkins grabbed a chair next to Henry and sat down. "I assure you that I will not go back on my word. You are a valuable employee. And with your skill set and training and a little collaboration, I believe we’ll both get what we want."
The screech of a heavy sewer grate being scraped along asphalt echoed down the tunnel, produced by Rick, Jacobson, and Wells, who forced it from its resting spot of several years.
When they arrived, they immediately noticed that the grate hadn’t been serviced in a long time and that rust, mud, and other elements held it locked in place. It took the strength of all three men to move the heavy iron grate far enough to create an opening for them to squeeze through.
Jacobson was the first to squeeze through and then Rick. From the other side of the grate, Rick could see the sun slipping behind the western horizon. The orange and purple colors of the sunset stood out in vast contrast to the darkening clouds of the coming storm. Rick went back into the tunnel to help Wells get Sergeant McAvoy out of the sewers. McAvoy was walking much better and only needed the assistance of one man to help him hobble along, so Wells went to speak with Jacobson to determine their next course of action.
The pain meds and other medical precautions Jacobson had taken had saved the sergeant's life, and most likely his leg as well. Rick guided the sergeant out of the sewers, making sure not to bump into anything protruding from the walls of the narrow corridor. Once both m
en were out in the open, Sergeant McAvoy took a deep breath of fresh air.
"Man, it's good to see the sky again. I know we were only down there a day, but it felt like an eternity."
Rick mumbled his agreement as he helped McAvoy to sit down upon a rock.
Jacobson returned a short while later, asking Rick to help him with the inspection of the sergeant's wound. When they removed the bandage, they could see that most of the wound had healed. Jacobson grabbed an antiseptic spray from his pack and sprayed it over the wound, after which he applied a new bandage.
"Looks like the leg is healing well, Sergeant. Other than probably walking with a limp for a week or two and experiencing some pain here and there, your body should heal quite nicely."
McAvoy gave a nod of thanks to Jacobson and asked for a status report of their location and how long until the storm hit. Jacobson stood up and waved Wells over to join them. When he arrived, he informed the sergeant that the storm was another two to three hours out and that they were near the Moneyrannel Road that crossed the River Roe, which was about a half mile from their current location and the way out of town.
After the river, they could follow the road until it intercepted with Baranalit Road, which would take them to the Loughermore Forest. Wells also proposed that they find a boat and float down the River Roe to the open sea and escape this hellhole. The sergeant immediately shot down that idea. He wasn't keen on floating out into the open waters of the Atlantic with a storm on its way, so he opted for the first option even though it involved a long distance of travel by land.
McAvoy studied the maps with Wells. Soon they decided on a course, and McAvoy gave the command for them to move out.
Rick assisted McAvoy to his feet, who quickly waved Rick away informing him that he would walk from here on out. Rick tried to argue with him, but McAvoy gave him that look of don't argue with me boy.
As Rick turned to leave, something down the tunnel caught his eye. Wells must have noticed it too because he shuffled past Rick to take a closer look. What he saw chilled him to the bone. Wells shouted a warning before shoving McAvoy and Rick out of the way.
From inside, the creature charged down the corridor. In a flash, it reached the metal grate, slamming into it with such force that the grate flew from its current resting place, crashing into Wells. The force of the impact blasted the air from his lungs and sent him and the grate tumbling to the ground several yards away.
Rick rolled back to his feet and opened fire on the creature as it came out of the sewers. McAvoy stumbled while he tried to quicken his pace to put as much distance as he could between himself and the creature. Once the sergeant was a sufficient distance away, Jacobson tossed a flash-bang grenade into the tunnel to try to distract the creature again. However, when the grenade bounced in the tunnel behind the creature, it did something unexpected: it scooped up the grenade and tossed it away, where it exploded uselessly in the distance.
Rick couldn’t believe his eyes, but wouldn’t stop showering bullets at the reptilian creature even though its thick scaly hide repelled the shots. The creature went for Jacobson first, ignoring McAvoy, who ducked behind a collection of large rocks near it.
The large reptile swung its massive arm, clubbing Jacobson hard on his right side, the thump blasting the breath from his lungs. The thing quickly turned, whipping its tail and tripping Rick in the process, sending him crashing to the ground. When Rick's head collided with the hard ground, his vision swam and danced. Then he heard Henry's voice in the back of his mind: Rick you need to get up and fight! You don't have the time to lie down. Your team needs you!
Groggy and shaken, Rick rolled over, struggling to put his feet under him. He forced himself to focus. Finally, he climbed to his feet and shook the dizziness from his head. Once he was up, the dizziness faded, so he searched for his gun. Luck was with him because the gun hadn't flown too far away.
The creature's focus was still on Jacobson, who tried to draw it away from McAvoy and Rick while doing his best to keep away from it too.
Rick glanced over to where Wells lay motionless on the ground. He wasn't sure if he was breathing, and he desperately wanted to go to his aid. Unfortunately, stopping the creature from attacking Jacobson was a more pressing matter at the moment; Wells would have to wait. Something clicked inside Rick, and his nerves steadied and the dizziness went away. He scooped up his rifle and knelt down next to a large rock, where he aimed at the creature’s back and let fire.
Many of the bullets zipped passed the creature, which darted back and forth as it tried to grab hold of Jacobson. The bullets that did strike the creature ricocheted off its thick hide. It was sheer luck that none of the rebounding bullets had struck Jacobson or Wells.
Sergeant McAvoy clicked on his comm. "Morgan, stop firing! This thing's hide seems to be bulletproof. Jacobson, how are you holding up? Do you see any possible weak points on that thing?"
The creature closed the distance between it and Jacobson, lunging for him again and again with its massive arms extended and its claws ready to rip into his flesh. Jacobsen ducked behind a rock, barely escaping the creature mauling him. He then scrambled to his feet and grabbed his side arm, firing a couple rounds into the side of the creature’s head. Seeing that it had minimal effect other than pissing the creature off, he ran towards the sewer opening.
He clicked his comm on, responding to McAvoy's query while trying to control his heavy breathing.
"I can't see any weakness in this thing's armored hide other than the soft spots of its shoulder, knee, or elbow. Too be honest, it would take an expert marksman to hit one of those places. There might be other soft spots that would be easier to hit, but I don't want to get close enough to find out."
Jacobson continued to run, dodging in and out of trees and rocks, doing his best to keep ahead of the creature. The small brush and boulders helped to hinder the creature from reaching him, but the possibility of climbing up one of the trees was not an option. Jacobson began to tire from the exertion of staying one step ahead of the creature. All it would take is one slip up, and the creature would level him in an instant.
Knowing he didn't have much time, he yanked off his pack and plucked a grenade from one of the pockets. He pulled the pin and tossed it with what strength he had left towards the creature. The grenade rebounded off the base of a tree, bounced off another rock, and rolled across the ground, where it, luckily, stopped near a pile of small broken branches in front of the creature. Jacobson ducked behind a group of large boulders as the grenade detonated.
The explosion blasted dirt and debris passed the boulders that Jacobson hid behind. The creature let out an ear-piercing cry that echoed over the concussion of the explosion. He clutched his pistol tightly, not wanting to lose it.
After a few moments, the air cleared and the sounds of the creature’s cry faded. He slowly began to breathe normally again, and when his hearing returned, he listened for the creature. Jacobson took a chance to glance around the boulders to see if he could spot it and saw that the area was clear; the creature was gone. Jacobson nervously spun around while glancing in every direction, looking for the creature, in fear that it would pounce upon him at any moment. He relaxed when he found a small trail of blood heading south, away from him and the others.
His comm clicked on, and he heard Morgan on the other end.
"Jacobson, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm still here," Jacobson replied.
"Thank God! We saw the explosion and feared the worst."
Jacobson was about to respond when he noticed a large reptilian tail lying on the ground, winding around a set of large boulders nearby. He also noticed his MP5N rifle that he dropped during his mad dash lying upon the dirt, not too far away from him. He carefully walked over to it, trying not to make a noise. When he picked it up, he did a quick inspection, making sure the gun was in working order before slowly moving towards where the creature was probably hiding.
The comm clicked on again with Morgan
requesting his location; Morgan's voice seemed to have more than his usual amount of concern in it. Jacobson clicked off his comm completely. He didn't want the creature to be made aware of his presence. He stalked in like a mountain lion moving in for the kill. He inched forward, steadying his breathing and making sure to stay away from dry twigs and branches.
When he got close enough, he could see that the tail wasn't moving and was covered in blood and mud. If the luck of the fates were with him, he would find the creature dead or unconscious. If not, Jacobson would just have to blast it back to whatever hell it had crawled out of.
He clicked his safety off and leveled his rifle. Stealing his breath, he went around the boulders to prepare to open fire on the wounded creature. The blood in his veins went cold, his hands began to tremble; and his eyes darted back and forth frantically. The creature wasn't there; all he found was a mixture of blood and dirt and the creature’s badly maimed tail. Jacobson ran back around the boulders, quickly scanning the area and searching for any signs of the creature. Nothing but a small trail of blood heading back in the direction of Morgan and McAvoy could be found.
Jacobson clicked on his comm. "Morgan, are you there?"
"Jacobson, you don't know how happy I am to hear your voice. When your comm line went dead, we thought—"
"I've lost visual on the thing! It's severely wounded, and I believe it's heading your way. Do you copy?"
There was no response from Morgan or McAvoy. A roar rolled out from across the open field, cleaving through the silence like a herald of destruction. The horrifying sound was quickly followed by the sound of gunfire from multiple rifles, ringing out like little metallic bells in the evening air. Jacobson gripped his rifle and quickly dashed off in the direction of his companions.
Rick let out a relieved sigh when he finally heard Jacobson's voice return on the comm. He had feared they had lost him. McAvoy hobbled over and asked Rick if he had seen any movement from Wells. Rick shook his head no.
The Shadow Above The Flames Page 11
