Quicker (an Ell Donsaii story)

by Laurence Dahners

  Bowers called out to one of the techs, “Gene, find out if any of the Olympians in that room were on the shooting team.” Then he narrowed his eyes. “White, that gymnast Donsaii was the only non-terrorist known to be up front when this went down! She was in the portapotty. Have you seen what she did yesterday in the arena to win four gold medals?”

  “Sure Chief, but there’s a huge difference between jumping around and shooting. Has she had any weapons training?”

  “She attends one of the military academies so I expect she’s had some. We’ll find out how much.”

  Gene said, “Chief? None of the athletes in that room were on the shooting team. Olympic shooting events don’t start for another 4 days.”

  Chapter Eight

  The police wanted to hold the athletes for “questioning” and for “protective custody” but the athletes themselves, as well as their coaches raised a storm of protest at this proposed disruption of the games. After all, disruption was exactly what the terrorists had wanted. But by the time the police relented and let the athletes go Phil was almost late to his afternoon match. When he walked out, they had a bus waiting to take him right over to the arena and, in view of events, the wrestling officials were understanding about his late arrival. At first he worried that the morning’s events would derail his concentration but the simple expedient of imagining his opponent to be a terrorist focused his attention nicely and resulted in a brutal takedown followed by a sudden pin of his adversary. He left the ring feeling somewhat sorry for his dazed opponent.

  After a few words with his coach he was finally able to pick up his AI, put on his HUD and check what the news was saying about the terrorists. The first item he came across was an announcement, “We are relieved to report that the US Olympic athletes who were captured by terrorists have been rescued. They were for the most part uninjured except, of course, for gymnast Anna Kernova whose shooting was broadcast by the terrorists and attributed to failure to meet their demands. Also wounded was shot putter James Olnos, struck by a stray round during the rescue. Both of the injured athletes have been taken to an undisclosed medical facility where, we are told, Ms. Kernova is currently undergoing surgery. At present no details regarding the rescue are available though experts confess to being astonished that it was accomplished without more bloodshed amongst the athletes. The location in which they were being held has been described as ‘fortress like’ and we are endeavoring to learn what methods the police used to break in so rapidly that they were able to subdue the terrorists before they killed or maimed many or most of the athletes. Apparently, almost all of the terrorists themselves were injured by gunfire and are also being removed to an undisclosed medical facility.” What the hell? Phil thought, how could they possibly not know that Ell rescued us? He pulled up another webcast on gymnastics. “As you probably know by now, all the female American gymnastic athletes were among the athletes abducted by terrorists this morning and Anna Kernova, the vaulting specialist was injured. The rest of them missed their events but officials are discussing ways for them to make up…” Someone tapped Phil on the shoulder.

  When he looked up a pretty young woman, one of the “guides” who escorted athletes from place to place, said, “I’m sorry Mr. Zabrisk, a couple of reporters would like to interview you. Are you able to take a few questions?

  At first Phil wondered why, surely the low level match he’d just won didn’t merit an interview? Then he realized they wanted to talk about the terrorists. At first reluctant, he then realized that he could make sure Ell got recognition for what she’d done. “OK.” He got up and motioned her to lead the way.

  When they arrived at the press area two reporters approached him. Their HUD headbands both mounted more sophisticated cameras than the standard AI equipment. “Mr. Zabrisk, you were among the athletes captured by the terrorists were you not?”

  “Yes sir.” Phil responded as his military training had taught him.

  “Were you injured in any way?”

  “No sir, they kicked me some but I get hurt a lot worse when I’m wrestling.”

  “No one seems to have any idea how the terrorists were stopped. Most of the athletes agree that the police arrived minutes after the shooting was already over. Were you able to see who rescued you or what happened that set you free?”

  “Yes sir. Most of the folks hit the deck when the firing started so I can see how they wouldn’t have seen what happened?”

  “Wait, are you saying that you did see what transpired?”

  “Yes, sir. It was Ell Donsaii.”

  “What was Ell Donsaii?”

  “She’s the one that stopped the terrorists.”

  “What? She wasn’t even there! She escaped when the bus was taken and we have video of her outside the parking deck after you had all been taken down into the ‘fort.’”

  “That’s correct. She initially escaped but then later came in the back way.”

  “Back way? We understood there were only two doors.”

  “Two doors and a big storm drain. She came in through the drain. I believe she let them think they’d captured her.”

  “Let them think?”

  “Yes sir. They dragged her in but I think that she actually forced one of their outside accomplices bring her in.”

  “But why?’

  “So she could rescue us.”

  “Oh, come on now Mr. Zabrisk. Do you really believe that a sixteen year old girl intentionally allowed herself to be captured by terrorists with a plan to free the other captives?”

  Phil’s eyes narrowed, “Have you watched the Olympics? Do you have any idea what that particular sixteen year old girl can do?”

  “Well yes… she is… amazing.” The reporter lowered one eyebrow, “But it’s a long stretch from the floor exercise to combating hardened terrorists isn’t it?”

  Phil colored a little. “Do you want to hear what I saw, or not?”

  The two reporters glanced at each other with their eyes, careful not to move their heads and disturb their vid shots. “Absolutely, what did you see?”

  “I saw,” Phil ground out, “Ell Donsaii dragged into that room from the back storm drain by a couple of those Arab terrorists. I saw–her get viciously kicked for whispering to tell me that she was OK. I heard–her ask me to arrange a distraction while she was in the toilet. I saw–her get up and wait until two guards, both armed with pistols, escorted her to the portapotty in the front of the room where most of the terrorists were standing. I watched them undo her handcuffs so that she could ‘do her business.’ Two of the swimmers provided the distraction she had asked for and my friend, my friend and team mate and academy classmate.” Phil realized to his dismay that he was about to choke up and rushed to finish. “That friend, Ell Donsaii, came back out of that portapotty, moving like only Ell Donsaii can move. She took a weapon from one guard and shot them all. She should get a medal!”

  The reporters glanced at one another again. “Can we get a copy of the vid from your AI to back this up?”

  “No! They took our AIs away from us! Don’t you guys even know the basic story?”

  “So you’re the only one that saw this?”

  “I don’t know. Everyone hit the floor when the shooting started. I crouched down too, but I was worried about my friend and so my attention was focused on her when she did what she did.”

  “Sooo…” The reporter’s eyebrows expressed his disbelief. “You believe that Ms. Donsaii took a weapon from one of the terrorists and used that weapon to shoot all seven of them with no harm to herself?”

  Phil lowered his voice, “I don’t ‘believe,’ I know. But if you’d rather think a fairy appeared and shot all those Arabs with her wand, well you go ahead and believe that.” He turned and stalked away.

  ***

  Yousef stared out the window of the office they’d rented for him and wondered what had gone wrong? Everything had seemed to be going perfectly. The police were stymied outside and Hamid had been in complete contr
ol of the situation. Yousef had watched with enormous satisfaction as Hamid had made his demands. He had been daunted at the rapidity with which the police had arrived, cordoned off the area, brought in vehicles and prepared themselves. The assault vehicle that had rolled down the ramp into the building had looked very intimidating but, as Hamid had predicted, the heavy concrete walls must have been too much to breach without severe risks to the hostages. Yousef had greatly enjoyed watching the American girl’s struggles before Hamid shot her. Though he’d been disappointed when Hamid didn’t finish her off, he’d understood the increased pressure her wounds put on the Americans and admired Hamid for his restraint. Yousef at first had not been able to believe it when Hamid told him over the intercom that Jamal had brought in the gymnast Donsaii but it had seemed to be further proof that Allah was on their side.

  Then, over the intercom he’d heard several bursts of automatic weapons fire. Like Chief Bowers, he’d thought that the Americans had rebelled and Hamid was putting the dogs down with the assault rifles and Yousef felt a frisson of delight at the thought of their broken bodies blown aside by the weapons. But then to his dismay he heard Hamid say “No! Kill me!” Then several loud bangs and much shouting ensued. Later he distinctly heard Hamid say, “It was Donsaii! She tried to murder us all!”

  Evidently, all their plans had come apart. He watched ambulances enter and leave the parking deck. Then, with mounting disappointment he saw the American athletes come out of the deck in small groups and get into vans and buses. They came out in fits and starts so it was a little hard to keep track but he thought he had counted all but two or three of the hostages walking out on their own!

  When the police began breaking down their equipment and leaving, Yousef realized that his team’s “grand gesture” was finished and sadly dismembered. But the Americans didn’t have Yousef! He could still make them pay!

  Yousef knew he wasn’t a great planner, but, even if he merely killed some people at the Olympic facility, the fear it would generate would be a thorn in the side of the great Satan. He un-taped his Beretta and its two spare clips from the bottom of the office desk. He put the Berretta in the waistband of his pants, the clips in his oversized left front pocket and pulled the baggy t-shirt down over it.

  He walked down the hall to the bathroom and inspected his appearance. The weapons weren’t evident and for a moment he was thankful for the loose clothing that was in style here in America. He went down the stairs and started walking to the Olympic facilities. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get in with his weapons, but he would just wait outside for Donsaii to leave, then kill her and as many other Americans as possible.

  ***

  Coach Benson was beside herself. Ell had arrived in the gymnastics area dressed like a spectator with a ball cap covering her signature hair. At first the coach was ecstatic that her star gymnast had arrived to compete, but then Ell had told the coach she just didn’t want to participate any more. “But Ell, I got them to give special permission for you to do your ‘all around’ events this afternoon! You could get another couple of gold medals! You’re gonna knock ‘em dead!”

  Ell winced at Benson’s choice of terms but continued staring at the floor. “Sorry Coach, just don’t feel up for it. Be good for someone else to get a gold medal anyway, four’s enough for me.” Her thoughts returned to an incessant cycling through the shooting. Her mind’s eye riding once again behind the barrel of the Beretta as it traveled the big concrete room. Over and over she tracked the fusillade of bullets fired from her weapon.

  “But Ell!” She paused, “Did you get hurt?”

  “No Coach,” her voice sounded flat and lifeless, “Just not happy about what happened.”

  “Are you worried about Anna? I’m told she’s out of surgery and expected to do well.”

  “I’m glad coach.” Ell stood and turned away. She couldn’t tell the coach about it but she had to talk to someone. “I’m gonna go find my Gram and my Mom.”

  Coach Benson followed behind her a few steps, then turned her palms up, shrugged and turned away. For a moment she wondered where Ell had obtained the vaguely uniform-like blue pants and shirt she wore over her leotard. Surprising really, that Ell would be the one who couldn’t take the events of the morning. The other girls seemed much flightier. Benson could understand being terrified after being held hostage, but giving up years of effort toward Olympic gold? Without being injured? Without even giving it a try? She shook her head, then resolutely Benson turned her attention back to the rest of her team.

  Ell queried her AI and Allan located Ell’s Gram and her Mom back at the room that had been rented for them. They had been to the parking deck during the crisis, then when Ell had been bussed directly to the Olympic center they’d begun to follow her there, but apparently Gram had been overcome by the excitement and Kristen had taken her back to the room. She had Allan message them that she was coming to the hotel and started for the main entrance to the complex. Then she heard Phil’s voice in the distance, “Ell, wait up.” She turned and saw the big blond man trotting her way. She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to him but she stopped and waited. When Phil caught up, he stopped, stared at her for a second then threw his arms around her. “Ell! I’m so sorry I didn’t get to say ‘thanks’ earlier. They had you sequestered when they let me go to come back for my match.”

  He squeezed her so hard she wondered if he knew what he was doing to her ribs. But the hug was wonderful. She put her arms around his broad back and squeezed him back. She leaned back a little, “Thanks for what?” she said with a trembling lip. On one hand she hoped that he, like the others, didn’t know the terrible things she’d done in that room. On the other hand, she desperately wanted a friend to talk it out with.

  “For taking those bastards out! I and every other person in that room owe you our lives!” To his dismay Phil saw her eyes fill with tears.

  Ell buried her face into his broad chest. “Oh Phil! I think I might have killed two of them!”

  Phil leaned his head back to look down at her, not at all sure what to say in response to that. “They deserved a lot more than a ‘kick in the nuts,’ you know?”

  She leaned back and grinned crookedly up at him through her tears. “You are never gonna let me live that down are you?”

  “Actually, my greatest fear is that you’ll tell all my friends about the day you kicked my ass. Ruin my reputation.”

  Ell put her face back into his chest and snuffled, “You have friends?”

  He squeezed again, “The one that matters most is you.” One hand rose to muss her hair. “Can I take you somewhere? People are starting to stare.”

  Ell peered past his pectoral and saw a crowd had gathered to watch an Olympic athlete hugging someone, but now some of them were pointing at her and she saw one mouthing “Donsaii,” so evidently they were seeing through her disguise. She wiped her eyes on the front of his jacket and said, “Yes, take me to my Mom’s hotel.” He let go the hug, turned them both back toward the main entrance and, to her surprise, took her left hand in his right.

  The two reporters who had interviewed Phil earlier had been walking along behind him, not following him, just discussing other possible interviews. He had jogged ahead of them and they’d lost sight of him but then they’d come up on him again, stopped, hugging a young woman. They’d stopped to watch, wondering if there was a story here? At first, like most of the crowd, they were only looking at the big, good looking Olympic athlete. But then they noticed that the girl had strawberry blond hair. She seemed to be sobbing, then she leaned back. It was Donsaii! Zabrisk and the girl started walking toward the entrance and most of the crowd respected their emotional state by drawing back to let them go but the reporters followed, this could be a great interview!

  As Phil and Ell opened a door to go outside into the heat, the reporters jogged a few steps to catch up and one of them called out, “Mr. Zabrisk, Ms. Donsaii, can we have a couple minutes of your time?”

  Ell shra
nk inside herself but Phil picked up their pace, turned over his shoulder and gruffly said, “Leave her alone!”

  The reporters trailed behind, undeterred. “Ms. Donsaii, Mr. Zabrisk says you are responsible for rescuing the athletes. Is that true?”

  Phil flinched as Ell darted a wide eyed look up at him. He said “I thought you’d want the world to know. I would. I am so, so, sorry.”

  Ell took her hand out of his and turned her eyes to the front but continued to walk beside him. One of the reporters again said, “Ms. Donsaii?” A movement ahead of her caught her attention. A man who’d been leaning against a car in the large lot outside the arena stood up and stared at her. Initially she thought he was Hispanic, but then, looking at his nose she thought he might be Arabic. His right hand reached down and lifted the hem of his oversized t-shirt, then grasped his waistband, though it didn’t bring anything out. Ell had slowed, causing Phil to look back over his shoulder at her. The reporter caught up and touched her right elbow, thinking that she was slowing for him. Impatiently, Ell shrugged his touch away, like she would an insect. The Arabic man’s eyes narrowed, then his arm jerked convulsively as he pulled a Beretta out of his waistband. Ell felt the zone crash over her once again!

  As her world slowed, Ell took note of the crowd of bodies around her. She looked down for something to throw at the man whose Beretta had cleared his shirt but she saw nothing but concrete and pavement.

  In her slowed world she considered running at the man but discarded that as hopeless. Fast as she was, he would get off several shots.