by Bryan Tann
Before they could raise their rifles, John exploded with a kick to Hughes’ ribs, then sent his leg into the side of the head of Ward sending both men to the ground.
Hughes pulled himself to his feet readying his automatic rifle. John reached forward and snatched the collapsible baton from his hip with his right hand, then struck the barrel to the rifle upward with his left hand as Hughes pulled the trigger.
John extended the baton and struck Hughes in the knee, dislocating the joint.
“Fuck!” Hughes roared in agony firing another automatic burst into the ceiling before falling to the ground.
Ward got to his feet and took aim at John’s head. Looking over his shoulder, John dropped, turning to face Ward as he landed on his front, barely dodging the rounds from the barrel of the other automatic.
John lifted his right hand, striking the barrel of the weapon, sending a burst of rounds into the floor. He exploded to his feet, then jumped, planting his feet into Ward’s chest sending him to his back with a loud thud.
“You mother fucker!” Ward grunted trying to get air back to his lungs. John snatched the automatic rifle and attempted to fire the weapon at the prone soldier only to have the trigger remain locked.
“Remember John, we are not registered to this weapon. The guns we had are gone!”
“Dammit!”
John moved to face him, tossing the rifle to the ground then snatching the collapsible baton from Ward, then began removing his duty belt.
“Wait. I know you. I know you!” Ward coughed. “You fucking…” Ward kicked out at John causing him to retreat back. As he staggered back, Hughes reached out grabbing at his ankle, sending him down to the ground.
“Get on him, Joey!” Ward yelled.
“I got him, Cam! I got him! Get the Taser! Get him in the heart! Get him, Cam!” Hughes yelled, trying to keep his weight on John as the two wrestled on the ground for leverage.
“I got him in my sights, Joey, move!” Ward roared.
John gripped Hughes as tight as he could, kicking at his knee to get more leverage causing the soldier to cry out in pain.
“Dammit, Joe, I can’t get a clear shot!”
John pulled his own knees to his chest, rolling so that Hughes was directly on top of him then kicked out, sending the wounded agent into his partner.
Nipping up to his feet nimbly, he extended the second baton striking Hughes in the nose sending blood exploding all over the plain white wall.
“Fucking traitor again, huh? Don’t you get over this shit?” Ward growled as he got to his feet. “You have a hard on for that cunt and her temper tantrums?”
John exploded forward, sending a kick to Ward’s chest. His body flew through the air and dropped in a heap five feet away. Both soldiers lay still.
John snatched Hughes’ belt off, removing the holster for the collapsible baton, then took the second holster from Ward’s belt and fitted them onto the stolen belt from Hughes, then secured one of the batons. Taking a step toward the doorway, he stopped and grabbed the radio and earpiece and secured them.
Rushing back into the office, John took a firm two handed grip to the shaft and sent a single stabbing at to the corner of the window with all of his strength.
When the metal hit the edge, the window shattered. He hissed as his wrists and hands were cut open from the glass, despite the wounds healing as soon as they opened.
“Well. Here goes nothing,” he muttered to himself, taking two steps back then running toward the window to jump.
He roared in agony, having missed a hanging glass spike that slashed him from the top of his head down to the small of his back as he went through the window. When he landed, he immediately broke off into a run for the perimeter fence.
“This is Matheson! Do you fucking have eyes on Baker?”
“Sir! Just saw it now, sir! He’s outside! Charlie Quadrant. He was in Denton’s office, sir! Hughes and Ward went to search the floor, and are dark!”
“Goddammit, Alpha, Bravo, Zulu, Whiskey, get to that quadrant and get there double time! I’m in route! Get the security measures in place! He does not leave here!”
John took off running toward the fence. He could hear the whistle of bullets flying past him as he went. A stab of agony hit him, went through the right shoulder. He continued running, the fence growing closer to him.
Heat and force sent him flying, then rolling awkwardly all radio chatter silenced as he felt the radio crushing under his weight, the hard plastic stabbing into his hip.
When his body finally stopped rolling, he could see the crater where the grenade had landed from the launcher. A burning, stabbing pain in his head alerted him that there was a large piece of shrapnel in his head.
“He’s down! Baker is down!” he heard someone shout.
“Down. But not out,” he muttered to no one.
13
“Alright boys, I want you to pin him in. Pin him in close. He’s a tough sumbitch.” Matheson barked as the squad began to advance on the prone body.
“Sir, a grenade round just sent him flying to the deck! He’s got to be done, right?”
Matheson turned to glare a hole into the voice that questioned him. A middle aged member of the clinic security detail looked to him. Matheson could tell that, in his day, he was a tough guy. Now he looked as though his best days were behind him, but he couldn’t be told that.
“What’s your name?” Matheson demanded.
“Blake. Sergeant Paul Blake. I’m the shift supervisor,” the man replied coldly.
“Well Sergeant, you have any military training?” the Commander growled.
“Can’t say I do, sir. Former C.O.,” Blake replied.
“Fair enough. Listen here, Blake, what goes on at this research facility is top secret. You know that. But you can bet your bottom dollar to Shamu’s cunt hairs that if I say this guy is still a threat, then he is still a threat. Now that needs to be enough for you. Do you understand that? Sergeant?” Matheson glared. He added the man’s rank at the end with a hint of venom and malice.
“Yes, sir,” Blake replied, his eyes narrowed to slits.
“Good. Now listen we are not going to get into a dick flapping contest here. You all are under my orders. That’s just a fact. Now listen, I want a group of you to surround him. Ensure he doesn’t move.”
A group of six, a mixture of the company’s security detail and Matheson’s own men made their way toward John’s body.
“Cooper you have the lightning right?” Matheson asked a soldier to his right.
“Yes, sir. The rifle will fire the claw and it should be pumping just about one hundred k volts just like you used in SC,” Cooper replied.
“Good work, son. Get in the fray and blast that bastard when he leaps.”
“Will do, sir.” Cooper made his way along with the group.
Matheson watched as the group moved in on John’s fallen body. One of the soldiers stepped forward and rolled John over, poking at his chest with his rifle.
“Commander, he’s still down. He looks completely unharmed,” the soldier said over the radio.
“Well Barr, you and I both know that he is just fine and dandy. You just be on the steady. Cooper is about five or six steps behind you. You wait for him to put the claw into his chest. Understand?” Matheson asked.
“Roger wilco, sir,” Barr replied.
“Woah!” Barr yelled loudly as he was pulled to the ground. John slammed his fist into Barr’s throat and got back to his feet with unnatural speed.
“Fire! Fire! Fire!” a soldier roared out. The soldiers began to open fire.
“No! Cease fire! Cease fire! Cease…” Matheson roared out. The group opened fire, centered on John. As the bullets sprang out, John dropped to the ground. As soldiers fell to the ground having been tricked into shooting each other, John exploded back up. As a nearby soldier raised the barrel of the assault rifle toward him, John gripped the barrel with his left hand and turned it to the center mass of a nearby
security guard.
As the bullets riddled his body sending him into a macabre dance that ended with him in a heap, covered in his own blood.
John shot his right arm toward the soldier, sending his elbow into his nose then rebounded his fist into the soldier’s groin dropping him to his knees. He finished the assault snapping the soldier’s neck without any effort.
He hissed in frustration as he felt bullets tear in his flesh from behind. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a security officer holding a Glock forty five. Another four rounds were unloaded into him. He pulled the collapsible from its holster, hurled it toward the guard. When baton connected with the guard’s face, John followed up shoving his open palm upward into the guard’s nose sending him to the ground dead.
John’s eyes widened when he saw Cooper advance on him with a rifle trained on him with a thick metal claw shoved down the barrel.
“Fuck,” he muttered as the claw hurtled toward him and sank into his flesh sending electrical currents through his body. John dropped to his knee clutching to the claw roaring in agony. He knew what would happen if Matheson were able to get a hold of him again.
“How do you always get yourself in trouble?”
“Queen, come on! I don’t have time for a lecture! I have a claw in my chest and its sparking!”
“You didn’t notice that we’re not incapacitated have you?” Queen asked with a tone of amusement.
John looked around, seeing Matheson step forward, the other soldiers and guards standing on guard.
“Good fucking job, Cooper!” Matheson shouted. “Someone put a round in the back of this fuck’s head to keep him from moving!”
One of the guards stepped forward with his gun drawn, ready to follow the orders given. John reached out to grab the guard’s hand, twisting it until it reached its limit causing a stomach-turning crack. The man screamed in agony as the perimeter floodlights reflected off the exposed bone.
John used his free hand to yank the claw from his chest and shoved it into the chest of the guard. He hoisted the guard’s dancing body and threw it toward the mixed group.
“How the hell?”
“It is quite simple, John; bone does not conduct electricity.”
“What in the fuck? Cooper reload! Reload! Re…” Matheson’s orders fell on deaf ears as John dove forward toward Cooper, picking up his discarded baton and in one motion extended it and struck the man in the groin. As he was hunched over, John hooked him into a front face lock and lifted his body savagely, then hurled the body behind him as though he weighed nothing. Cooper’s light extinguished before he hit the ground.
He extended both collapsible batons, twirling them with inhuman grace. A soldier advancing with his field knife was disarmed effortlessly, a vicious swiping attack to his throat brought the soldier to the ground spewing dark blood into the air as he lie motionless.
“Goddammit!” Matheson roared. “Drake! Get the fucking Hueys in the air! They better have the shit like I like on them and I want this freak dead inside the hour!”
“Roger that, Commander!” Drake replied over the radio. As gun shots sounded out, Matheson knew that nothing they had on the ground at the moment was going to stop John Baker. He was a flurry of extermination. His dance of death almost poetry in motion.
“Looks like I trained you too goddamn good, didn’t I, boy?” Matheson muttered going to the rear of the Jeep he’d arrived in to claim the high caliber sniper rifle. “Let’s see how this tastes to you.”
Matheson took aim on Baker. His entire naked upper body was covered with blood and gore as he dismantled everyone that came his way. He stopped just long enough to see Matheson drawing down on him.
“Choke on this, you son of a bitch.” Matheson didn’t give him a chance to say, or do anything else. He fired a single shot to the heart.
“Queen?” John asked nervously. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing the worry on his face.
“Ummm move?” Queen replied, matching his anxiety.
As the bullet struck, John staggered into an advancing soldier. He quickly gripped the soldier and turned him around as Matheson pulled the trigger again and took off running.
“He’s rabbiting, Drake! Where are my fucking Hueys, boy?” Matheson roared. As he fired, he could hear the blades cutting the air.
“They’re inbound on your six now, sir,” Drake replied.
“Good! Tell them to use the floods, put a spotlight on him and light that bastard up with anything and everything they’ve got!” Matheson roared.
“I don’t like the sound of that, Queen!”
“Nor do I, John. I believe they are calling in the big guns!”
“Really? You think?”
Looking over his shoulder four helicopters were advancing on him. He looked forward to see the gate was only another fifty yards away, and then there was wilderness after another fifty yards of open field.
“Fuck!” he roared as he ran. “If those are what I think they are, we aren’t making it to the tree line!”
“Nonsense! If we get away from the flood lights it will be harder for them to see us won’t it?”
“They have lights too!”
“Oh,” Queen replied sheepishly.
“Why in the mother fuck don’t I hear the beautiful sound of M134s?” Matheson roared into the radio.
The four Hueys opened up, destroying everything in their path as they fired on the retreating John Baker.
With a burst of speed, he jumped for all that he was worth, clearing the ten foot fence. He roared in pain as a stray round from the mounted miniguns hit him, causing his leg to catch on the barbwire, taking three yards of the metal with him as he hit the ground. He pulled himself free, tearing his pants and continued his run as the wounds healed.
The Hueys remained in hot pursuit firing on him recklessly.
“I want you to light that fucker up! Right now!” Matheson roared.
Almost in unison, the Hueys began firing their M129 grenade launchers in the direction of John as he ran.
“Haven’t these mother fuckers ever hear of fucking overkill?” John roared as he felt the heat from the explosions all around him. He began to leap to where he hoped he would miss their trajectories to make it harder for them to get aim on him.
He cried out in pain as shrapnel from the M129 dug into his leg, and a M134 round plunged through his stomach. He staggered to the ground, crawling into the shadows as best he could as he spit blood from his mouth. The pain threatened to take him into the darkened void, but he called upon his will to pull himself up and keep running.
“Don’t stop, John! If you stop we die! Pass out later!” Queen yelled.
He could feel a warmth wash over him and the exhaustion that began to overtaken him faded. He felt invigorated, recharged. He looked over his shoulder. He saw the light coming on him and he exploded like a bullet before the light could land on him.
“What did you do?”
“Adrenalin. You needed more. You’re almost at the tree line! Get us out of here!”
The tree line came closer. When he disappeared into woods, he continued to run harder, trying to put as much distance between himself and the complex as he could before exhaustion came for him.
“Do you have eyes on him?” Matheson roared.
“Negative, sir,” one of the pilots replied. “He’s in the wind.”
“Well for fuck’s sake goddammit!” Matheson roared. “Drake! I want every available man on this fucking building’s security detail called in. I don’t give a Peter, Paul, Mary, and Christ mother fuck! Get them here! Get me more men on the ground! I want roadblocks as far out as a hundred miles! This fucker is fast and he is deadly, and I want him found!
“I want dogs! I want big fucking bad ass Cool Hand Luke hound dogs out there! There is enough of this fucker’s blood spilled! Get them the scent and get me his ass! Do you get me?”
“Sir, yes, sir! I have the guards coming in now, and they know to get suited up and
ready for ass kicking. Info is being sent to local and state PDs as well. We will get the media involved as well sir. However I just found out something interesting that you’ll want to get back to base to see for yourself,” Drake replied.
“The fuck is it, Drake? In case you haven’t noticed I have a shit sandwich on my plate and I have to put in a call to the President to report in!”
“Sir, with all due respect, you really want to see what I’ve got, sir,” Drake replied.
“Alright Drake. You have two minutes.”
“I don’t even need that much, sir.”
14
John continued running through the forest, knowing that it would only be a matter of time before ground units were after him. Even as his wounds healed, his body felt sluggish.
“What’s the matter with me?” John groaned as he continued to force his body over the logs, and rocks in his way.
“You need to eat! What? Did you think that you didn’t have to eat food or drink water like a normal person?” Queen asked slightly amused.
“I guess I wasn’t thinking about it,” he admitted as he continued to run.
“Yes well you had better start thinking about it. A body needs fuel after all, John. This one more than most to be quite honest,” Queen replied.
“What do you mean by ‘more than most’? What the hell else do you know that I don’t?”
“That if you do not eat or drink anything soon, I will not be able to produce anymore nanobytes. You need to stay hydrated and full for me to work at my best,” Queen instructed.
“Alright well the deeper I can get into the forest, the better it will be. Is there anything implanted in me that could allow them to track me?” John asked curiously.
“No. They know that anything foreign going into your body will be ejected.”
“Good. Jesus this is Oregon, you would think that it would start raining at some point,” John grumbled.
“Well we need to do something soon. I’m getting too tired and that’s not good.”
