by J. P. Sumner
‘That’s for making the last week of my life as shitty as it was, you piece of shit!’ I yelled at him.
I holstered my guns and looked over to the detonator. I’ll get that in a minute. I then turned my attention to Clara.
She’d managed to get up to one knee, and was shaking her head and holding her neck, trying to get her bearings. It reminded me of the first time we’d met, in Ted Jackson’s hotel suite. I walked up behind her, and when I was a couple of feet away, I launched a right roundhouse kick to the side of her head. I turned my right hip over as I swung it, making sure I followed through for maximum effect. Her body lurched to the side and she was out cold before she hit the floor.
‘And that’s for betraying me, bitch!’
I was breathing harder now; my adrenaline was flowing and my anger was gradually rising. I wanted revenge. I wanted to make them both pay for everything they’ve done and everyone they’ve hurt. My door was opening and I could feel myself allowing my self control to leave me, so that nothing remained but my inner Satan.
They were going to suffer for what they’d done.
I heard shuffling behind me, and I turned to see Ketranovich on his feet, slowly moving toward me. His eyes were wide, with a crazed look on his face. He was screaming at me, half in English, half in Russian. His arms were raised, ready to attack. I walked over to meet him, ready to fight. He could barely stand. Half his right arm was blown apart and he would likely have a few cracked ribs now too.
I was going to make him suffer.
We were only a couple of feet apart now. I raised my arms to meet his, grabbing his left arm with my left hand and launching a right hook to his kidneys. I caught him clean and he bent over to the side as he let out a grunt of pain.
As he doubled over, I moved in for the kill. My plan was to bring my elbow down on the back of his head toward the top of his spine. I could hear him coughing blood, and he dropped to one knee in front of me. I raised my elbow, aiming to finish him off there and then.
But in the blink of an eye, he stood up and extended his left arm. I felt the blow against the right side of my stomach – I was exposed due to my arm being raised, ready to drop the elbow.
I stumbled backward a few steps. I stared at him. It took me a minute, but I realized he was holding a knife in this left hand. The blade was covered in blood. I looked down at my stomach, where he’d punched me. There was a dark stain spreading across my top.
I never saw it coming. Never expected he had enough left in his tank to even lift a knife, let alone use one. I staggered back a few more steps and dropped to my knees. The pain exploded across my entire body. The warmth from the blood gushing from the wound countering the icy shiver I felt up and down my spine. I instinctively clasped at it with my hands, but the damage was done.
I fell forward and the whole world turned black.
SIXTY-FIVE
I’m not religious in any way. It would be a bit hard-faced to say you believed in God and then went around killing people for a living, I guess. But I’ve never needed the comfort that religion can bring people. As a result, I’ve never been very spiritual either. I believe what I see with my own eyes. Anything else is fiction until its right in front of me.
But I swear to you, right then, I was floating above that compound. I can remember looking down and seeing myself, lay motionless and barely breathing on dark, blood-stained sand. Ketranovich was struggling to his feet, searching for the detonator. Clara was still lying there, not moving after the kick to the head.
I looked around. There was nothing else. The world outside the compound was a flat, barren desert, decorated only by mountains in the distance and the odd rock or bush dotted here and there.
There was no sign of the cavalry, charging over the hill to the rescue. No sound of trumpets as the soldiers approached, guns raised and ready for war.
I remember wondering if I was dead. Rejected by God and Lucifer, left to roam around in my own personal Purgatory for eternity. Forced to witness my own death over and over again, as penance for my lifetime of sin.
But then I remembered that I don’t believe in all that crap… Whatever I was doing right then was a dream, created by my own mind to show me that this isn’t over. You think because I’ve been stabbed, my fight is finished? I’m Adrian Fucking Hell, goddammit! I’ll decide when I’m done fighting – not you, not Ketranovich, not anybody.
The image of my body came flying up toward me at great speed, and then…
SIXTY-SIX
I opened my eyes. The world was covered in a light fog all around me as my vision struggled to focus. My mind was just as clouded. My entire body was screaming at me to not move. But I had to. I lifted my head slightly and turned to look the other way. I could make out a figure ahead of me, staggering across the courtyard.
Ketranovich.
Then everything came flooding back to me.
The detonator!
I bent my arms and prepared to push myself up. I brought my knees up to my chest and in one colossal, painful effort, I managed to lift my body from the ground and stand up. I couldn’t straighten my back - the knife wound on my stomach meant I had to bend forward a little to take some of the pressure off. But I was up. That was the main thing.
I rubbed my eyes, trying to clear the haze in front of them. I looked ahead and saw Ketranovich slowly making his way over to the detonator on all fours.
I tried to walk, which was harder than I would’ve liked. Everything was unfolding in slow motion.
‘Hey!’ I yelled.
Ketranovich looked behind him, almost losing his balance as he did, his face a mixture of shock and anger.
‘Is that all you got?’ I asked.
He went to turn away from me, to return to his quest to reach the detonator. I had to distract him.
‘Hey!’ I shouted again. ‘Don’t walk away from me, you coward!’
That stopped him in his tracks. He turned to me once more. He too wasn’t able to stand up straight, thanks to the damage my kick had done to his ribs. He was holding what was left of his right forearm in his left hand.
I continued toward him, stopping a few feet in front of him. We looked the same – hunched over, covered in blood, barely able to stand, hurting more and more with each breath we took.
‘I am no coward, Adrian Hell,’ said Ketranovich. ‘I am a hero. I was a great warrior, fighting for my country since you were just a child.’
‘You’re a maniac,’ I replied. ‘You’d kill hundreds of good men and women in the blink of an eye. And for what? Some self-righteous cause you use as an excuse for the fact your country screwed you over? You’re just an angry old ex-grunt who wants to stomp his feet and relive the old days of killing without consequence, and you justify it by saying it’s revenge.’
‘You think your opinion matters to me? You’re an insect. A parasite of western capitalism who thinks they’re superior to the rest of the world, just because you sit and talk and offer an opinion about other people’s problems. You know nothing of true war. Of real struggle. Of real values. Time and again, people like you use warriors like me for your own battles, then cast us to one side the moment we’re no longer of any use. Well no more! Today, I will send a message to the whole world, showing them that everyone is expendable – not just the men and women who choose to fight for their people!’
‘Roman, you’re certifiable, do you know that? This ends now.’
I leapt forward as much as I could, under the circumstances, leading with my left elbow. He wasn’t expecting it, and caught it flush on his right cheek. We both fell to the floor – him flat on his back, dazed; me onto my hands and knees.
I couldn’t let him get any kind of advantage. I didn’t have much left. I was losing blood rapidly and it was harder fighting to stay conscious than it was fighting with him. I crawled forward so I was level with him, and then hammered my right fist down into his face. Once, then twice. His lip split and blood ran slowly down his chin.
&
nbsp; I went to stand, figuring I could stick the boot in a couple of times. As I stood, Ketranovich’s left hand grabbed my ankle. I could see what was happening, but was moving too slow to stop it. He rolled over and slammed his right elbow into my left knee. It immediately gave way, and my borderline dead weight lost what little support it had. I crashed to the floor, my left leg throbbing in pain.
I rolled onto my back, bringing both legs up to my side. I was rubbing my knee to get the blood flowing again, as well as trying to take some pressure off my knife wound - which wasn’t looking or feeling too healthy.
I looked over, prepared to defend the inevitable onslaught from Ketranovich. But there was nothing. He simply struggled to his feet and slowly set off once more for the detonator.
I rolled over onto my front and reached behind me for a Beretta. Lay on the ground, as straight as I could with my right arm outstretched, I closed one eye and took aim. I could see a dark blur, with a lighter blur either side dancing around. I blinked rapidly to clear up my vision, but to be honest, right then I could’ve easily just closed my eyes and lay still.
I took a few deep, painful, breaths and took aim once more. The dancing blurs were slowly merging into the central one. He bent down, then stood up and turned toward me. He had the detonator in his left hand. It was now or never. I only had one shot, and if I missed, he’d hit the switch and it’d be game over.
I fired once.
The second it took for the bullet to reach Ketranovich felt like a lifetime. I held my breath and waited.
The gunshot echoed around the compound.
The bullet hit him in the chest, dead center. He let out a scream of pain as he flung his arms into the air and staggered backward. The detonator once again flew out of his hand. He took a couple of steps backward and fell to the floor.
I let out a long breath and dropped my gun.
It was over.
SIXTY-SEVEN
I rolled over onto my back and closed my eyes. I wanted to take a nice, deep, relaxing breath, but I was in far too much pain for such luxuries.
God, I felt like I'd been stabbed in the stomach or something.
Oh, wait.
I propped myself up on my elbows and looked down at the wound.
I huffed dismissively. I'd had worse.
I rolled onto my side and pushed myself up into a sitting position. I hugged my knees to my chest and sat, squinting in the afternoon sun, listening to the eerie silence that had descended on the compound.
What a day.
I looked over my shoulder and saw Ketranovich lay on the ground, not moving. I breathed a sigh of relief.
That was a good sign at least.
I reached for my gun, then slowly and painfully made my way to my feet. I staggered over to his body, one hand clutching my stomach. I needed to be sure he was dead. And Dark Rain along with him.
I approached him and tapped his leg with my foot. There was no movement. I raised my gun and aimed at his head, then fired three times. His skull all but disappeared, dissolving into a dark red puddle on the sand, which slowly expanded around him.
Better safe than sorry.
I looked around and quickly found the detonator. I holstered my gun and picked it up. I looked behind me, back to the main gate. No sign of the cavalry just yet. Sadly, there was no sign of Clara either. I had a bullet with her fucking name on it.
I held the detonator in my hand, regarding it for a moment. Hard to believe that such a small device could control such devastating power. I put it in my pocket, then took out my phone and called Josh.
'Adrian, thank God!' he said as he answered. 'You alright?'
'Yeah, I'm good,' I said, wincing in pain as I walked. 'It’s all over. Ketranovich is dead and I have the detonator. I just wish I could’ve stopped them shooting down the airstrike.'
'Adrian, don't blame yourself for that, okay? It was a tragedy, but forget about it now - it'll be handled by all those government folks. You’ve done enough. I’m just glad you’re alive.'
'Me too. I just wanna get out of here, Josh. I need a vacation.'
'I'll book the flights right now, Boss,' he said, laughing. But his tone soon changed. 'What happened to Clara?'
I'd looked around again, but there was no sign of her anywhere. Her motorcycle was still there, resting on its side from earlier. The hangar door was still open. I wanted so badly to go after her and put a bullet right between her eyes. But my energy was being spent simply trying to stay conscious.
'No idea,' I said. 'She disappeared while I was fighting Ketranovich. I don't know if she's still on site or not, and to be honest, right now, I don't really care. If she's alive, I'll find her and kill her. But not now.'
'That's the smartest thing you've said all week,' said Josh, laughing once more. 'Get outta there, Adrian.'
I looked over at Clara's motorcycle once more.
'Way ahead of you, my friend.'
I hung up and walked over to the bike. Taking one final look around, to make sure Clara wasn't laying in wait and planning to shoot me or anything, I used what strength I had left to lift the motorcycle up and climb on. I started it up, took one last look at Ketranovich, then sped off across the courtyard, through the main gate and out onto the desert track.
It'd been a long time since I'd ridden one of these things. But like the saying goes, it's not something you forget.
I blasted down the track, past the warning sign about the compound, and headed for the main highway. After a couple of miles, I spotted the first helicopter in the air. Quickly followed by two more. Ahead of me, I could see a convoy of vehicles speeding towards me, leaving a thin trail of dust behind them in the distance.
The helicopters approached and hovered above me as I turned off the track and hit the highway. I immediately slowed down, then eventually stopped. I sat with the engine idling, one foot on the ground, my arms folded across my chest. My right hand was resting on top of my stab wound. The convoy came up on me a minute later and came to a stop.
As the truck in front stopped, the passenger door opened and Robert Clark jumped out and walked over. He was wearing a dark gray suit with the jacket open, flapping in the wind.
'I took your advice and stayed out of your way, he said, shouting a little over the noise of the helicopters overhead. 'Definitely one of the better decisions I’ve made in the last few days. You’re a very resourceful individual, do you know that?'
He was smiling. I still didn’t completely trust the guy, but I’ll concede that I was starting to like him.
'I just don’t like people who go out of their way to do bad things,’ I shouted back.
I gestured to the troops behind him with a small nod as he stopped next to me.
'Impressive,' I said.
'They're not all mine,' he shrugged, humbly. 'Most of the men here are Army. But I've got fifty of my best guys watching our backs.'
'You're late for the party. I've already had all the fun.'
'We mobilized as fast as we could. It was a short-notice joint operation, and not the easiest thing to arrange, unfortunately.'
He gestured to my stomach.
'You alright?' he asked. 'You look like shit.'
'Thanks. I got stabbed a little bit, but I'll be fine. It's all over, Bob.'
'So I heard. Your British friend is one hell of an asset, Adrian. You're lucky I don't try and poach him from you.'
He laughed at his comment, which was probably half serious. I simply smiled.
'You can't afford him,' I said.
He smiled back.
'Fair enough. Can you tell us anything about Dark Rain's operation?'
I shrugged.
'Not much to tell, really. Despite what Clara told us, it was mostly smoke and mirrors, combined with some very clever bullshit. But their hardware was top notch... Well done for funding all that, by the way.'
Clark held his hands up in resignation, acknowledging my sarcasm.
'Hey, you're preaching to the choir about t
hat,' he said. 'I'm still trying to clear up the shit-storm that Jackson left me.'
We fell silent for a moment. I looked at Clark as he scanned the horizon all around, looking across the vast expanse of unforgiving desert, as I had done on occasion this past week.
He looked back at me.
'So, where you heading?' he asked.
I shrugged.
'I have no idea,' I said, quite honestly. 'Away from here.'
He nodded to my stomach wound.
'Please tell me you're going to a hospital first?'
'Why, Bob, I never knew you cared.'
He smiled.
'I don't, I just want you to move so I can get these guys to that compound and clean up the mess you've made.'
We both laughed.
'Take care, Adrian. We're going to gut that place and gather everything we can on Dark Rain.'
He turned to walk away, but looked back.
'I'll let you know if we turn anything up about Clara, okay?' he said.
I smiled, but said nothing. He then walked off back to his truck.
I sat there and thought about everything Dark Rain had done. Everything they’d put me through. All the times I’d come close to death. I even thought of all the members of Dark Rain that Ketranovich used, lied to and killed in the name of his pathetic little cause. Then I thought of all the innocent people who had been caught in the crossfire. The pilots of those F-22s who I couldn’t save. Then I realized that every single shred of data relating to Dark Rain was in that old military base. They didn’t exist anywhere else in the world, except in that goddamned compound.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the detonator, looking at it in my hand for a moment. Ultimately, there wasn't anything to think about. I knew what needed to be done.
'Bob,' I shouted after him.
He stopped at the side of the truck, one hand on the door and looked over. I held the detonator in my hand, held high in the air for him to see.
