Killswitch

by Cliff Hedley

  Chase burst forward with both arms raised, blocking the gun hand with his left and driving into the man’s chest with his right elbow. He stepped in close, wrapping his left arm around the gun arm, tucking the gun hand tightly in under his left armpit. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realised that his arms weren’t quite working right but it didn’t matter. He had the gun under control for the moment with what was left of his real left arm. He coiled his body back, then uncoiled to bring his right arm smashing into the guy’s head. It was clumsy but he held tight with the left and struck again with the right. He had a fist-shaped battering ram, nothing more now. This time as he recoiled he unwound and dropped his weight, smashing his right arm down onto the man’s right, releasing his grip on the gun arm a fraction of a second before.

  There was a cracking sound as his prosthetic met the man’s right forearm, just up from the wrist and the gun clattered onto the ground. The man roared in pain. I might be evening the odds here.

  The man lashed out to push himself clear. Chase had given up his grip to disarm him, and instead of continuing the fight the now gun-less shooter turned and ran. He was quick. Chase bolted after him but had lost the tactical advantage. Somewhere behind him he was aware of footsteps, multiple people, moving his way. He hoped it was the police. He also hoped they wouldn’t shoot him if they thought he was the one running away.

  Up ahead the shooter leapt upwards for a fire-escape ladder hanging around six feet off the ground. Chase was surprised that he managed to pull himself up it. Even if his right arm wasn’t broken, it sure as hell would be hurting right now.

  Moments later, Chase reached the ladder and leapt up for it but his powerless hands were balled into fists. They weren’t opening and couldn’t grip.

  The footsteps behind him pounded louder. Chase watched in frustration as the man pulled himself quickly up the ladder and safely away. Flashlights began to bounce off the alley walls around him. From somewhere behind him, he heard a bellowed command. “Freeze! Hands in the air!”

  Chase turned, slowly, arms raised. There was a powerful flashlight in his eyes, blinding him. More footsteps were coming towards him.

  “I’m with the Bomb Squad,” he gasped.

  “Stay where you are. You got any ID on you?”

  “No but check with them. Listen! You’ve got to go after the shooter. He just went up this ladder but I couldn’t go after him.”

  The flashlights scanned upwards, finding nothing. The man had made it all the way up.

  “I’m telling you, he’s getting away!”

  More footsteps arrived somewhere behind the flashlight. “Chase! Officers, stand down. He’s with us.”

  The flashlights dropped from Chase’s face as he blinked away the bright remnants in his eyes. “Grange? Is that you?”

  “Yep. Did you get a look at the shooter?”

  “Dark hoody, jeans and backpack. He went up this ladder just before the officers arrived. I don’t think he’s armed now. The gun he had is somewhere in this alley. So is mine — I mean, Brannigan’s. I didn’t get a look at his face.”

  “We’re on it.”

  Four men pushed past Chase and scrambled their way up the ladder. More stayed in the alley, sweeping the beams of their flashlights as they searched for the gun.

  “Are you OK?”

  Chase had almost forgotten about being shot. Oddly, he hadn’t felt it, other than the impact that knocked him to the ground.

  “I think I got hit but I don’t feel it.”

  Grange swept his light over Chase, checking his body, then his limbs. “It’s your left arm — or prosthetic. It has a bullet hole and some bent metal but otherwise you’re in one piece.”

  “What about Brannigan and Duke?” Chase asked, suddenly remembering his fallen friends.

  “Both still alive, for now. They’re already on their way to hospital.”

  Chase exhaled and felt a wave of exhaustion as the adrenalin began to seep away from his body.

  “You better come with me and give the officers a statement,” Grange said.

  He motioned for Chase to follow him, back along the alley, which was now being lit up by more flashlights bouncing across the brick walls, with brighter lights growing behind them.

  Grange led him to a sergeant who was barking orders from underneath a streetlight. Once he was finished, Grange motioned for Chase to come forward and recount his version of events. By the time he was done, the forensics team had arrived. They were a man and a woman, both around their early thirties, with kit bags and a camera. Beyond them there was already yellow tape blocking the entrance to the alley and the one Chase had first run into, further along the block. There were markers on the ground around where Duke and Brannigan had been shot.

  Now that he was back out on the street, there was light enough to see his arms for himself. The left one certainly did have a noticeable bullet hole. Carlton will be pissed but that prosthetic probably saved my life.

  He suddenly had a new appreciation for the titanium components of his arm that had acted as a shield and deflected the bullet. His frustration at losing his battery life and therefore the ability to climb the ladder, subsided. He was alive to fight another day.

  Then he looked at the right hand, balled into a fist just like the left, though something was on the end of it.

  “Excuse me,” he called to the forensics team as they walked past. “I might have some evidence for you.” He motioned to his right fist. “I think that’s the shooter’s blood.”

  “And there might be a bullet or bullet fragment in the left arm,” Grange added.

  “Wow,” the woman answered. “Can you come with us to our van, please? We’ve got better light there.”

  “Sure,” Chase sighed. “Uh, do I need to give you my prosthetics to bag for evidence?” He was worried now not only about what Carlton would say about the damage but also handing them over and not having anything useful for himself. He was just getting used to them and the old plastic and piano-wire option did not appeal.

  “No, we’re not that mean”, she smiled reassuringly. “We’ll take photos, swab the blood and take any evidence of the bullet. I wouldn’t leave you without your prosthetics.”

  “Great, thank you.” Chase exhaled the breath he had been holding.

  He followed her to the forensics van, which was awash inside with bright white light.

  “Put your right arm on the counter top, please,” the guy with the camera said, then took close-ups from different angles. Next, the woman swabbed it carefully for blood, moving across each finger and around each knuckle, collecting everything she could find. She tagged the swabs into evidence canisters, which went into plastic bags with labels on them. Chase watched her work and was glad to see that she had pretty well removed all of the blood that he could see. He figured Carlton would be squeamish at the evidence of violence, as well as annoyed at the damage. He wasn’t sure which would take the higher priority.

  “OK, all done with that arm. Let’s see your left please,” she said when she was done.

  The guy with the camera leaned in close and focused on the bullet hole. There didn’t seem to be an exit hole, so he took a bunch of shots before the woman leaned in again, peering into the bullet hole with a pair of tweezers in one hand and a bright light in the other.

  “You mind if I fish around a little?” Chase appreciated how respectful she was being. They weren’t real arms but she and her partner were doing their best to keep the proceedings dignified.

  “Go right ahead,” Chase chuckled. “I won’t feel a thing, I promise.”

  Grange was waiting for him on the curb when they were finished.

  “Any word on the shooter?” Chase asked.

  “No. We had four guys head up to the roof straight away and more followed but they found nothing.”

  “Find both the guns?”


  “Bagged and tagged while you were doing your thing here.”

  “Great,” Chase blinked hard. It had been a long day.

  “I don’t think there’s any more we can do here. We haven’t found anything near the hydrant where you first saw the shooter, so whatever he was going to set up, he didn’t get a chance to do it.”

  “Now what?”

  “How about I give you a lift back to the hospital? I’m sure you could use a good night’s sleep and your Doctor Carlton will probably want to assess the damage.” Grange nodded at Chase’s arms.

  “Yeah, he’s probably going to freak out. If they’re still working I’ll probably just need to recharge them, then I’m good to go again. You want me back on patrol in the morning?”

  “Absolutely. Our people will carry on with what you’ve showed them and I’ll introduce you to more tomorrow. We’ve got some guys coming in from the other precincts, so if you’re OK with extending your lessons, we’ll keep doing this.”

  “The more eyes, the better.”

  Grange clapped him on the shoulder and walked off towards one of the Bomb Squad vans. He opened the door for Chase, who pulled himself up into the front passenger seat using his elbows and moments later they were on the move.

  Chapter 18

  The man with the scars had not had a very good look at his adversary but he fought well. From the brief glimpse of his face he got up-close, there was something familiar about him but no matter. He would die if he continued to be a nuisance.

  The evening had not gone as planned but as always he had a very careful exit strategy laid out which had served him well. The night was not a total loss: two police officers on routine patrol had been shot by an unknown assailant with a backpack on an average street in the city. If that made the news, which he would ensure, then the doubt and fear bubbling away in New York’s citizens would start to crawl its way up into their everyday consciousness. Once they were truly living in fear, he could herd them like sheep.

  He flexed his hand, open and closed. The burn scars on his arm were long-since healed but he suspected that he had a fractured wrist. The man who had struck him had used something unusual. He hadn’t seen him carrying a weapon in the gloom of the alley, other than the gun but it felt as though he’d been hit by a baseball bat. He wrapped the wrist tightly with a bandage and pinned it in place, flexing his hand open and closed to test its effectiveness. Satisfied that he had patched himself up adequately, he returned to his work.

  It was time to move to the next phase and there was much to do.

  Chapter 19

  Grange dropped Chase off at the back entrance of the hospital, closer to Carlton’s lab, where he found both Carlton and Jane still working. She was the first to speak.

  “You look like shit, Master Sergeant.”

  Chase laughed in response.

  “Grange called ahead,” Carlton said. “He told us what happened, said you were getting a bullet pulled out of your arm. Are you OK?”

  “Yes, thank you. Uh, the arms ran out of juice while I was chasing the shooter. I got in a fight with him and they pulled a bullet from the left one. Sorry, I know I should take care of the tech. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

  “Are you kidding? None implied. These things are built for soldiers, Chase. You’re a soldier and tonight you went after a guy who could have killed a lot of people. As far as I’m concerned, I’m here to help you do what you do, nothing more.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be so cool about me damaging the merchandise.”

  “You are the merchandise. The prosthetics can be replaced. You can’t. Get it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Good. How about we plug you in and see what we’ve got.”

  “Sit,” Jane ordered as she pushed Chase into his customary seat. “Arms up.”

  He held his left arm aloft as she helped him out of it. The mechanism released and she put it on the table next to him, connecting it to Carlton’s diagnostic computer. After a few moments, one of the LED lights started blinking, indicating that it had started recharging. Chase held up his right arm and Jane moved around to help him out of that.

  He slumped back where he sat and let out a sigh. “Hey,” he said, suddenly remembering the carnage at the front entrance. “I came in the back way just now. How is everything here?”

  “As good as can be expected,” Jane solemnly replied. “Four dead, a dozen wounded. Oh, and your girl is stable.”

  “How are you both holding up,” Chase asked.

  “Combat trauma, remember?” Jane answered. “I’m unfortunately all too used to this. I’ve been running backup to the general staff since the bombing but came back in here when we knew you’d be on your way. I think we’ve got it under control now.”

  “Thanks for your concern, Chase,” Carlton stammered. “It has been rough but we’ve worked through it. I’ve learned a lot from Jane here about handling trauma. There was only so much I could do out there myself but we’re doing OK. The front entrance is a bunch of plywood boards right now, though.”

  Chase sensed that Carlton had gained a harder edge over the past day or two. It was something he had seen in Jane already and in other combat veterans. Carlton had just had his first taste of real danger and something in him had changed. It wasn’t his mugging or losing the use of his legs that had put this new edge on him — it was an attack on his hospital, his people.

  Chase closed his eyes and slumped back again.

  “Go to bed, Chase,” Carlton ordered. “I don’t need you here to run diagnostics. You want to take him up, Jane?”

  “Sure. With me, hero.” She was teasing him again but somewhere in there was a degree of respect, Chase thought.

  He rocked to his feet and she led him back to his room. “You don’t seem to be able to stay out of trouble, do you?” she remarked as she strode along beside him.

  “I’m a combat soldier. It’s an occupational hazard, I’m afraid.”

  “So you’re not content just being a guinea pig for us?”

  “Happy to be. I’ll just look to keep myself busy elsewhere if I’m needed.”

  “Fair enough.”

  She paused. “Did you get a good look at him?”

  “Who? The shooter, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not really. It was dark. He had a hoody. What I did notice was that he could fight. Fight well. He had combat or martial arts training of some kind. He fought back and bionic arms or no, not many people can call a draw with me.”

  “You’re pretty confident.”

  Chase cracked a grin. “I train a lot. It’s kept me alive thus far.” The conversation was starting to get all too serious for him and he didn’t like talking about himself too much. Somehow, though, he felt comfortable talking to Jane. She was a kindred spirit in this place.

  They hit the stairs and she bounded up them with her usual energy. Chase had contemplated the elevator but he followed along. He was weary and his body felt heavy. Sleep was going to be very welcome. When they reached his room she held the door for him.

  “I could get used to this service.”

  “Don’t push it. Why don’t you take a load off? I’ll find a nurse to help if you want to shower.”

  “That would be great, thanks. I’d have no objection if you wanted to do it, either.”

  “I have to get back to work running diagnostics on your arms. Maybe some other time, hero.”

  Chapter 20

  Chase woke early, as he always did. It was still dark out, probably somewhere around six. It would be an hour or two before Carlton and Jane would be back in. He hoped like hell that there hadn’t been any problems with his prosthetics. He wasn’t sure they had been designed to resist blood and bullets specifically. Pushing the thought aside, and intent on keeping himself busy, he swung upright then dropped to t
he floor. He padded barefoot to the gym and was pleased to find it empty. He tapped the light switch on the wall with a gentle front kick and went to the middle of the floor.

  He started with a few stretches, then did his rehab exercises. It was amazing that they now seemed so easy and had become a part of his routine. The physios will be pleased. Next, he moved on to practising his kata, or at least his adapted handless version. He spent a good amount of time on them, before seeing his bokken lying against the wall collecting dust.

  Next time.

  ***

  It was still early but there was a light on already in Carlton’s lab.

  Chase pushed his way through the doors. “What’s the news?”

  “Good news and better news.”

  “What’s the good news?”

  “I wasn’t up too late running diagnostics on your arms. They’re fine, apart from a little bent metal, but perfectly functional.”

  “Great. So what’s the better news?”

  “Well, I figured I’d spend a bit more time on getting your upgrades done, so we can give those a quick test run.”

  “Are you kidding? They were a bunch of parts last time I saw them!”

  Carlton pushed away from his desk and wheeled himself over to a large locked drawer. He fiddled with his keys before finding the right one. Chase crowded in next to him, barely able to contain his excitement. Carlton slid the drawer open, revealing a pair of black and silver arms, much sleeker than the original prosthetics.

  “Wow. Those are sexy. Can I try them out?”

  “That’s the plan,” Carlton grinned back.

  Jane pushed her way through the doors moments later. “Morning, boys. I see you got started without me. You like what you see, Chase?”