Brink of Extinction | Book 1 | Sudden Impact

by Shupert, Derek

  My busted ribs screamed, and I grimaced at the man towering over me, using his greater mass to his advantage.

  He let go of my shoulder, putting his mitt on the needle hand, setting himself to give one final push.

  This gave me my opening.

  I drove my right leg straight back, connecting my kneecap with the side of his face. The impact knocked him off balance, and sent him stumbling back into a rolling cart of medical equipment.

  The syringe fell from his grasp and onto the bed. My frantic fingers scraped over the coarse sheets, finding the syringe.

  The man rebounded, pushing himself off the equipment, and went right for my neck. At the same moment, wielding the syringe, I plunged the tip of the needle into his forearm, and injected the substance into his body.

  His eyes went wide with what looked like terror mixed with shock. His hands vice-gripped my throat in what I assumed was a final desperate attempt to finish his mission before the substance took hold.

  Through narrowed eyes and flared nostrils, he squeezed harder, the syringe bobbing in his arm as I tried to break his hold around my throat.

  Worried he might outlast me, I swung my fist around, and burrowed my thumb into his right eye.

  He yelled out in pain, but kept his hands fixed in place.

  I gasped for air, each breath more difficult than the last. The lights overhead started to dim and turn fuzzy. I was on the verge of passing out.

  He held firm for a couple more beats before his grip lessened. One of his hands fell, allowing me to suck in several gulps of air.

  I heaved while the man crumbled to the tile floor.

  Even though I still desperately needed more air, I held back, waiting for him to rise.

  With the TV blaring another report about the oddity of Duncan’s death, I finally let loose an enormous sigh. The hit man was dead.

  It seemed logical Rhys wasn’t concerned with finding out what happened. His son was dead, and now my family was a loose end that needed to be tied up. I had to find a way to warn them.

  I had made sure long ago that Janet had a phone to use for situations such as this. She was to answer when it rang, day or night.

  A thought hit.

  I sat up and rolled out of the hospital bed. The laminate floor’s coldness shot into my feet, and sent a shiver that rippled through my body. I bent over, reached as far as I could, and fished through the hit man’s pockets for a phone. All this would have been easier if I hadn’t been handcuffed.

  Jackpot.

  I rapid-punched the number into the dead man’s phone.

  It rang and rang.

  My heart pounded harder with each second that passed.

  It clicked to voicemail.

  When I heard the beep, I kept it short and sweet. “You know what to do…”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CORY

  My family was dead, and I killed them.

  But I didn’t know if this was true or not; it was just how my mind ran—black and white acceptance. And that way of thinking always allowed me to act with absolute focus.

  All I knew was that I might still have a chance to save them. But only if I could free myself.

  I set my sights on my food plate, even though I had zero interest in eating. Steam lifted into the air from the moist mixture of dark meat and bright colored vegetables.

  Where the hell is it? Hopefully they didn’t bring a plastic fork.

  My eyes and fingers scoured the tray for something, anything that could be used to free me from the handcuffs.

  Tucked under the sterile white plate, I found a glimmer of hope. A silver fork signaling me with its reflection of the overheads.

  Perfect.

  The fork was my salvation, oddly enough. With one hand gripping the neck, the other pushed and maneuvered each point in various positions. I flipped it about, took one of the ends, and slipped the tip into the keyhole within the handcuffs.

  My hands trembled as I tried to work as fast as I could. Sweat from my moist flesh ran down my cheeks and dripped onto the floor below. But I barely noticed this, or the TV blaring so loudly that I couldn’t hear anything else. I really didn’t care.

  “Come on, damn it.” I said in frustration.

  After a few more minutes of twisting and turning the fork every way possible—and mounting panic rising—the cuffs unlatched and fell from my wrist.

  Next, I needed my clothes, or anybody’s clothes for that matter.

  They weren’t in the room. I checked the bathroom, and found nothing there as well. That left only one other option.

  The hit man looked heavy alive, but he was heavier dead. Still, I managed to drag him into the bathroom and strip him bare. A glance in the mirror, after donning his scrubs and shoes, confirmed my hope that this would work. Too bad this guy didn’t have a surgical mask or something similar to conceal my face.

  I stepped out of the lavatory, and closed the door behind me. More news of the tsunami devastation blasted from the TV’s speakers. It played in my ears, but I didn’t let it play in my mind. I had enough problems of my own.

  Now I had to play the part of an orderly, with a food tray in hand and a rounded cover on top. I cracked open the door to sneak a peek in the hallway.

  What I saw shocked me.

  The hallway was lined in a sea of occupied beds flowing in either direction. Shifting past them were hospital staff and regular people, all appearing haggard and beaten down. No doubt the result of the recent tsunami.

  Bad news for them. Good news for me.

  Even better news: no cops in sight. I had to make my move while I could.

  I slipped out, and dove into the sea of hospital personnel, then waded down the long corridor with my head tilted toward the floor.

  Shit.

  Two cops stood dead ahead at a vending machine, chatting with an older male gentleman who pointed in the opposite direction with frantic fingers. Up on my left, just a few steps before the cops, was a door that I hoped led to a stairwell.

  Only a few steps more. Their heads were still fixed in the opposite direction. Then the old man switched positions and pointed at me.

  I jumped, discarding the tray onto an empty bed by the door, and slipped inside a room just as the cops’ heads snapped toward me.

  The pain in my side was unyielding. My ribs felt like they were shattering with each breath, and my throat radiated pain from being choked. My head wasn’t exactly back to a hundred percent yet, but I was free. I just had to keep moving.

  The orderly’s phone had been secured in my pocket. I fished it out and fingered Janet’s number. It rang three times before dumping me back into her voicemail again.

  Damn it.

  “Janet, it’s Cory. Call me back as soon as you get this.”

  My shoulders sagged. A heavy sigh fled my lips. I pocketed the phone and kept moving.

  The stairwell seemed to go forever, and every one of my steps felt like a punch to my chest, and sounded like thundering claps that echoed along the walls. But no cops or killers. Finally, something was going my way.

  I made it to the first floor of the hospital.

  The exit door opened up into more chaos; wall-to-wall injured filled the wide-open space. More cops drifted among civilians.

  They’re not interested in you, Cory, I told myself.

  I ventured out from the stairwell, and hugged a wall. When I was sure no eyes were on me, I made my way to the front doors.

  Cops passed by me without offering so much as a single glance.

  I pressed through the crowd of people and emerged on the sidewalk. Relief. Or was it?

  It had been a few days since I had seen the outside world. The streets were buried under scads of different colored tents and military vehicles.

  Smoke plumed into the air. Fires ravaged buildings. A burnt smell filled my nose. The sky overhead looked dull and gray. Thick, bulbous clouds blotted out the sun’s rays. A haze clung to the air, making everything murky and forlorn. It d
idn’t feel like California. Not by any stretch.

  The nearby buildings, hammered by the tsunami, felt familiar.

  What hospital is this?

  The marquee in front of the hospital said Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center. That told me my hotel, the Crown Vista, was close. Another break.

  “Hey?” a voice called out from the right.

  My chin dipped to the ground. I glanced to the right, and found a cop walking my way. I thought about running, but figured that would draw too much attention. Plus, I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or not. I didn’t want to hang around to find out. Instead, I waited for a moment, and turned in the opposite direction.

  My hands slipped inside the pockets of the scrubs, and I pushed my way through the crowds of people as the man’s voice continued to ring out behind me.

  “Hey, you there. Wait a minute.”

  My pace hastened, and I continued down the sidewalk, with my heart hammering. I wasn’t sure what I’d do if he caught up to me.

  Rhys was known to have cops on his payroll, regardless of the city. Just a few phone calls was all it would take.

  “Move out of the way,” the cop said, his words fierce and chopped.

  He was close. Not more than a few paces behind me.

  Up ahead was an alleyway that veered off to my right. From there, I could disappear, and work my way to the Crown Vista hotel where I had been staying.

  There was a problem, though. A group of volunteers had gathered in front of the space, blocking my discrete getaway.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I felt the cop get closer. I made fists and steeled myself before I turned to face him.

  The cop brushed past me, and didn’t give me a single look as he pushed through the crowd, yelling at a man who turned back toward him. This man’s eyes went wide, and he took off in a mad dash.

  The cop charged after the homely looking man.

  The volunteers stood clustered together, chatting and pointing away from the hospital to the nearby ravaged buildings. I slipped past them with my head tilted toward the ground.

  “Excuse me, but that area isn’t accessible,” a gruff voice said.

  I had to think fast, and said the first thing that sprung to mind. “I’m here for the relief effort.”

  The man narrowed his eyes at me, and chewed the right side of his lip. My face flushed.

  “Hey, Dan, do we have any vests and hats left?” the man asked. “We could use the additional help. We’re pretty snowed under at the moment.”

  A baritone voice called out from the sidewalk to our left. “Yeah. We got a few extra here.”

  The man tilted his head to the left. “Get your vest and hat. We could use your help on the next block over. Ask for Tracy.”

  I stepped away from the mass of volunteers, and located Dan standing near a cardboard box.

  He pulled out a bright-orange vest and hard hat. The gear was shoved into my arms as he pointed to his left down the bustling sidewalk. “Head down this way and take a right at the intersection. Keep straight and you’ll run right into her.”

  “Thanks.”

  I headed down the sidewalk with gear in hand, slipping on the vest and the hat.

  Phew. That was close.

  I didn’t look back, walking as fast as my banged-up body would let me.

  I needed a plan. And fast. I was in way over my head. Lives were at stake. So many decisions. So little time.

  I hooked a right, and continued on down the sidewalk. Other volunteers strolled past, offering nothing more than a simple nod. I replied in kind and kept my head low.

  The flood waters had pounded the area. Trash and debris littered the streets, making me clomp through the mushy remains.

  Fortunately, the flood waters had receded, but everywhere I looked, there was nothing but a soggy mess of ruined and abandoned buildings. The air reeked of wet garbage and fecal matter.

  It felt surreal. Something from a science fiction movie—not real life. Not my life. Not my family’s life.

  Since the hospital, the local law enforcement and military had been nowhere to be seen.

  I tried Janet’s phone once more. Keys were pressed in haste; my eyes fixed to the phone’s screen.

  Come on, damn it. Pick up.

  Someone bumped into me and knocked the phone from my hand. It clanged off the ground.

  “Excuse me.” I bent down and retrieved the phone. I wiped the screen clean on my scrubs, then looked up.

  My blood froze.

  I’d swear I smelled strawberries. Out of the blue like.

  Staring back at me was a stern-faced, bald-headed man dressed in a bright-orange vest that almost hurt my eyes.

  He didn’t respond.

  After a pause, I stepped to the side, and continued on my way.

  I glanced to the left, and looked back toward him.

  Still no response, but his eyes were drilled into me. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow, elongating a giant scare that ran across his eyebrow.

  Did Rhys send two hit men?

  My body was on guard. Nerves frayed and on edge. I tried to keep the man in my periphery vision while I searched the area for Tracy—the female volunteer. She wasn’t in sight.

  It was better that way. No curious eyes watching me. I had my opening and needed to take it.

  I darted across the street and onto the center median’s mushy grass, then to the other side of the road.

  The faint scream of sirens and horns blared in the distance, stealing my attention, snapping my head back over my left shoulder.

  Shit.

  Alone on the curbside, near the building I had just left, stood the man I’d bumped into a few moments earlier. He was there, eyes locked onto me, watching every move I made.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SCARFACE

  Cory Lawson was a dead man walking.

  He wasn’t getting away. He might try and crawl into whatever hole he wanted. It wouldn’t matter. I was going to get him and collect the bounty on his head.

  Lawson scurried across the street in the direction of the Crown Vista Hotel. He had just made me. I made sure of that. What was the fun of hunting prey who didn’t see you coming? He went exactly where I wanted him to go.

  “Target is on the move. He’s coming right to you,” I said into the concealed mic within my shirt.

  “Copy that,” replied Jackal in his raspy voice.

  Jackal was wild and reckless at times—a loose cannon— but together, we got shit done.

  Ring. Ring.

  My eyes remained locked on Lawson as I fished out my phone from my back pocket. It was payday. “Yes, sir.”

  “Has the mark been terminated?” Rhys asked.

  “He’s heading to the hotel as we speak. I’ve got my man on the inside already. Won’t be an issue, sir. I’ll make certain of that.”

  “Good to hear. I was hoping the local guy would handle Mr. Lawson, but he didn’t check in. He obviously failed. I’m glad I had you on standby. I know you were on another job, so your flexibility is much appreciated. I also have some backup en route. Just to make sure things go as planned.”

  I gnawed at the gum rolling in my mouth. Jackal and I worked alone, but I didn’t dare tell Rhys that. He paid well, and you didn’t bite the hand that fed you.

  My eyes remained fixed on Lawson as he slithered along the rubble filled front of the hotel. I responded in a steady tone. “It’s not a problem, Mr. Coleman. We’ll get this resolved.”

  “Perfect. Exactly why I wanted you on this. Clean this up quickly and bring me his head.”

  The line went silent.

  I pocketed the sleek phone, and headed for the hotel as Lawson slipped inside the darkened entrance.

  The Crown Vista Hotel looked battered and beaten from the onslaught of water that had pounded its cream-colored textured façade.

  Seaweed and debris covered the street that ran along the front of the sprawling posh establishment. The beach looked
like a graveyard for boats that had been washed up on shore. Their hulls were busted and filled with gaping holes.

  I’d been in some shit parts of the world on various jobs, but had never seen anything as catastrophic as this.

  I strolled across the street and over the spongy grass toward the entrance. Traffic was nonexistent—not a single soul in sight in either direction. Any volunteers who were in the vicinity had been redirected to other areas by Jackal and myself. We wanted Lawson without any interruptions.

  The roar of an engine in the near distance snared my attention. A black SUV came into view. In-bound from my left, making a beeline in the direction of the hotel. Rhys’s backup. Great.

  My partner and I loathed working with other contractors. We didn’t play well with others. For us, the rules were simple.

  Finish the job.

  Get paid.

  Simple as that.

  I maneuvered through the piles of rubble and abandoned cars in the street as the SUV came to a screeching halt before me.

  The doors flung open.

  Three guys dressed in black tactical garb stepped out.

  Not overly conspicuous in the least.

  “Nice vest,” the brawny leader of the trio said. “Where’s the mark?”

  His mirrored shades—aviator style—concealed his eyes. The bill of a black ball cap hung low over his brow, further adding to his comical getup.

  I nodded in the direction of the hotel. “He’s already inside. My partner is waiting for him upstairs near his room. We’ll have to work fast, though, lots of eyes and ears in the area. I’ve bought us some time, not sure how much.”

  Brawny glanced at the other two mercs and nodded. They took off toward the hotel in a dead sprint, their automatic rifles close to their chest.

  Brawny brushed past me when I shoved my palm into his chest. He stopped cold, and squared his shoulders.

  “Let’s get something clear here,” I said. “That is my mark in there. Neither you nor your men are to lay a finger on him. You feel me? You are support. Nothing more. If I need your assistance, I’ll let you know. Am I clear?”