by L. M. Vila
A fist slammed against the flipped van. The newly established dent was an easy measure of the rider’s frustration. Nearly a dozen scenarios flooded his mind. If they fled on foot there had to be something that would give away what direction they escaped towards. Rain began bouncing off the lenses of his glasses. Even though the sun had departed many hours ago, its main design was far too important to be tucked away in the pocket of his coat.
The surrounding area was otherwise quiet. This storm had kept most of the residents indoors. Los Angeles hadn't seen such bad weather in years. Local law enforcement must be scrambling in other areas of the city to be bothered with one van full of ruthless murderers. Lucky for them. They’d only get in his way.
Glancing around the immediate area proved futile. Every moment he waited was another they had to gain distance. Picking the wrong direction would be disastrous. The rider clenched his fists, almost breaking through the skin in his palm. This thunderstorm limited any tracking capabilities. However, it was actually in the process of giving him a subtle hint.
Lightning quickly struck into the far off hills. The rider turned his attention north towards the site of the flash. In the foreground, a few apartment complexes engaged his vision. Between them, a church sat as the divider for splitting two roads. He peered closer at the building. An unusual disturbance began to catch his eye. Finally, the howling winds of this storm had a purpose other than driving the rider's senses mad. A building as finely kept as that one would have little reason for the front door to be hanging on a single hinge.
The rider dragged his body as best as he could towards the holy sanctuary. His prey would no longer have room to escape. A fitting place for their demise.
Meryl didn't want to admit it, but the storm had gotten to her. Of course the timing of this particular situation would lead her to forget an umbrella or a jacket of all things. Her body continuously shivered reminding her of the blunder. Nonetheless, Meryl couldn't be bothered with minor details. The storm really wasn’t too bad. It was the clapping of thunder clapping really threw off her senses.
She positioned herself against a parked car towards the east side of the building. Seeing beyond the closed doors was out of the question. The fear of the unknown kept her away from any potential risk despite her heart's desire to press forward. Conceding to Lt. Perkin's orders was the most viable option at this point.
Five minutes passed with Meryl's patience waning. Stakeouts were pretty high on her list of pet peeves. Conversely, standing in the rain without a coat started to climb to the top. The storm remained unyielding. It became daunting just to stay calm let alone vigilant. Meryl was so focused on the ominous building she couldn’t even hear the footsteps approaching from behind.
“Excuse me.”
Without hesitation, Meryl drew her pistol and aimed it against sound's origin. Her speed was remarkable. The man standing before her was just a kid himself, barely looked above legal age. His L.A.P.D. shield hanging on his hip spoke otherwise. It’s about time he showed up.
“Deputy Miller?” She asked with mixed confusion and relief.
“Sergeant Lewis?” Replied the young man somewhat worried about a potential misfire. Meryl holstered her pistol hoping the embarrassment would be a brief afterthought.
“Sorry Deputy, the weather is killing my focus.”
Miller sighed. “No problem ma'am. How long have you been waiting?”
“About ten minutes too long Deputy,” she joked. Meryl filled him on all of the amazing details; the two dead bodies in a van as well as the five heavily armed men stationed inside the church. As an added bonus, she regaled him with the tale of the maiden who went on a stakeout in the rain and forgot her jacket and umbrella. Much to her chagrin, the deputy was equally prepared for this stakeout.
Miller felt at ease hearing her jovial sense of humor. He had officially been sworn in no more than ten days ago. The only thing he had to bring to the table besides an athletic body was a serving of inexperience and a generous helping of complete obedience. These fresh academy types always responded well to authority. Meryl’s duty required her to keep him alert and safe.
“So far it seems they've made camp and aren't moving anytime soon,” Meryl finished.
“Any chance they've got hostages inside?” Asked Miller.
Meryl had to ponder that for a bit. She wasn't raised in a religious household. Even so, many years of experience dictated that all sorts of people sought the advice of a higher power. Lucky for them, God didn't have a day off.
“We haven't gotten any confirmation but for the sake of reason, we should assume there are.” Meryl didn't like the sound of that. The truth hurt. She was reminded of something her mother always told her.
Hope for the best, plan for the worst.
“Our best bet is to play it safe and not alert them to our presence. If they believe they're in the clear then they won’t do anything to screw that up.”
I hope she replied in her mind.
“Have they exited the building since you arrived?” Miller asked. Another good question. This kid was properly trained.
“There's another door on the opposite side but I doubt it. They've got nothing to fear if no one knows they're inside.” Every answer Meryl gave just affirmed the point of staying outside and waiting for them to make the first move.
“What about that noise that came from the van?”
That struck her as an odd missed detail. “What noise Deputy?” If it were not for the rain, the silence that followed the tension could be cut by a knife. It made Miller all the more nervous.
Miller pointed south towards the direction of the flipped van. “I heard a crash over there on my way to your position.”
Meryl pressed further for more details. “You sure it wasn't the sound of the van crashing Deputy?”
Rain splashed off of his short blonde hair as he shook his head. “No ma'am,” Miller responded. “I'm positive someone,” he paused, “or something is over there.”
Panicking at that news seemed justified but Meryl couldn’t lose her composure. Not here. Not now. If one of the residents had been driving through and hit the van they could be in danger. Should fate be in their favor and they didn't sustain any injuries they would still be in the direct firing range of the men inside. Any other debate was futile.
Meryl drew her pistol and crouched towards the end of the vehicle. “Alright, I'll check it out. Watch the door.” The last part came out with more authority than Miller anticipated. It sent his memory back to a month ago while he was in the academy almost forcing Miller to stand at attention. Old habits certainly die hard.
Looking over the trunk, Meryl had direct line of sight to the van. Rain constantly beat down against her eyes preventing them from working at their full capacity. Thankfully, it wasn't enough to hide the fairly large man moving towards the building. Details were scarce. His eyes were masked behind sunglasses which matched the color of his tattered trench coat. Crimson colored stains splashing against the sea of black decorating the rest of his outfit.
Signs of combat were painfully obvious. They could be seen from space with the naked eye. Blood pressed against a wound in his leg. His stride was off, most likely to the injury. It could be best described as lurching. Still, nothing was going to stop him from entering the building.
Nevertheless, something about this man struck Meryl as familiar. As he slowly approached it started to become clear. His short black hair slapped her memory back into place. Meryl's heart sank.
“Michael?”
Richard slammed his phone shut with a sense of satisfaction. “We've got a ride boys.” He could feel their relief pouring through. Apparently there was still some honor among scumbags. It cost a bit more than a taxi but well worth it given the circumstances. “Sit tight and shut up until then.”
His men breathed easy but remained cautious. Society might not know where they are but one person could still be on their trail. Any oversight to would take this evening in th
e wrong direction. Vigilance was required, now more than ever.
“What about the holy man?”
Richard knew the hostage was a potential bargaining chip but then again, he still had a reputation to uphold.
“When our ride is outside,” he remarked with a certain sense of sin on his tongue, “Put a bullet in his brain. That should put me on God's good graces. Maybe that’ll give me the devil's luck.”
Thunder wickedly clapped outside. The storm raged on. As long as they stayed put they would survive and live to fight another day. That thought put Richard's mind at ease.
Then the building went black.
The weather continued its unrelenting wrath over the city. Street lights snapped off on every block. This prompted an immediate call to Perkins. Meryl only hoped the rain hadn't done any permanent damage to her phone. Technology was the only thing she could count on tonight. The call reached Perkins immediately. He must have been anticipating contact.
“Go ahead Lewis.”
“What's going on? We've lost power. Everything went dark.”
Perkins nodded to himself, “The storm has taken power out of several grids in the city. We're not sure when they'll be online again.”
Meryl felt like hitting something very hard at that moment.
“All we've got is moonlight, how long on backup?” That came out with a great sense of desperation.
“We're still jammed to capacity. Give us another ten, minimum.”
Meryl wanted to chuck her phone into the street. Another ten minutes in this weather was one thing, but trying to stage a stakeout in the dead of night was a whole other story.
Then there was him. She didn't know how else to bring it up so instead of sugar coating it, Meryl opted for the direct approach.
“Lieutenant, there is one more thing.”
“Go ahead.”
“Someone else arrived on the scene.” That prompted an immediate response.
“Who? L.A.P.D.? County sheriffs? Fire and rescue?” Perkins was so caught up with organization something may have slipped through the cracks.
“Not exactly,” this part became particularly hard for her to say. “Do you remember Michael Madison?”
For a man who had a quick answer to every question, Perkins was at a loss for words.
“What the hell happened to our lights?!” Screamed Richard.
One of his crew members peered outside through one of the small windows. “Power outage boss. The entire block is dark.”
Richard slammed his boot into a lacquered pew. Even though no one would be able to see them inside they would have just as many issues looking out. Being in a dark, cramped building suddenly appeared much more dangerous if a certain visitor started snooping around.
“Watch the doors! Keep your eyes on the windows. If someone steps within a hundred feet of this place, I wanna know about it!” Saliva spewed from his mouth showing great urgency yet hiding a tinge of fear.
The tight surroundings of the church made fortifying the building easy but that still didn't relieve the swelling anxiety. Silence filled the church. Rain continued to deal blows to the city. Richard started to feel like a bird in a cage. That above all else infuriated him dearly.
Suddenly, an annoying tapping sound began vibrating through his ear canal. It would start for a few seconds then briefly stop only to start again. After a while, this would break down even the most patient of men. However, for one so close to the edge, it had already worked.
Richard drew his revolver from his hip and held it closely. His eyes poured over every crack of this building, frantically trying to pinpoint the source. The rain dulled his hearing. Richard tried to convince himself that irreverent patter was all in his head.
That is, until he looked toward the entrance of the church and watched as the door he kicked in danced with the raging storm. The only thing keeping it in attached to the building was the sole surviving hinge.
Meryl anxiously awaited her superior's response. There had to be a damn good reason for Michael to show up here and now. She hadn't spoken to him since the day of that horrifying incident. Michael quit as soon as he recovered. He didn’t even say where he was going. Or goodbye.
Barely a handful of seconds had passed since she revealed this information to Perkins. Meryl didn't even notice Miller trying to sway her attention.
“Excuse me ma'am.” This might have been the fourth or fifth time he said it but persistence paid off.
The Deputy continued his plight. Meryl finally paid notice to the deputy and turned to face him. “What is it Miller?” Her grip remained tight on the phone hoping to not miss Perkin's response.
“That man,” Miller began, “Just walked inside.”
Suddenly, what the Lieutenant had to say didn't seem very important.
Slipping into the building was easy. Their attention focused on covering the other entrances that they wouldn't even begin to think that someone had the balls to come in through the front door. That would be crazy. Michael had an extra helping of that tonight. Fueled by unadulterated vengeance, he planned his steps carefully. Rain and winds helped keep the attention Montalv's hearing outside. They were probably already overwhelmed with the power going out. Imagine how they would feel once they saw Michael’s visage standing in the darkness.
Another crack of thunder allowed Michael to take another few steps forward. He reached into his coat. One last surprise for Montalv and his men. From out of the pocket he pulled a small cylindrical canister. The label read M84 Stun Grenade.
Just a little something he picked up from number three on the list which made wearing sunglasses so important. These things were designed to protect against something much stronger than the sun’s UV rays.
Rain poured with continued ferocity against the church. Michael kept moving. He slowly dragged the grenade towards his mouth, pinching the safety pin between his teeth, and giving it a tug. With the safety now released, he would be free to engage. The pin spat out of his mouth. Time to start the fireworks.
Worrying seemed ridiculous at this point. No one could have made it inside without them knowing. That's what Richard had to keep telling himself. Sweat began to form between his fingers. If he held on to that gun any tighter the handle would break through his skin.
The newly mounted tension bogged Richard's senses. The fear of unknowing. Having your weaknesses exposed. Even a bit of self pity.
No! He tried to reassure himself. This was all coincidence. Nothing out of the ordinary. Richard's mind was playing tricks on him. He had to keep calm. Clear his thoughts. There was nothing to be worried about. The church went silent. Even the rain outside faded away in his forced concentration. All was as it should be.
Then he heard a pin drop with the force to shatter this pleasant world.
“The door!” Terror swept through Richard's senses. He began unloading his pistol in the direction the sound emanated. His crew followed suit.
Michael had prepared for this response. He stayed low and ran forward; the grenade still firmly gripped in his right hand. Their shots were wild and without focus like panicking little children. It only helped Michael's approach. The muzzle flashes guided him towards the targets and avoid the hail of hot lead.
Richard swore he saw that lunatic in this room. No tricks or hallucinations this time. Every frame of light given by the exploding gunpowder showed demon running wild with his dreadful black coat. For the first time in his life, Richard prayed. Prayed for this nightmare to end. Prayed to survive.
Bullets whizzed past Michael's left side, inches away from making contact. They were getting close, but so was he. Michael flung the grenade straight into the air. He dove forward and prepared to roll. This would aid in shielding the oncoming blast.
No one in Montalv's crew saw the projectile leave the target's hands. This could complicate matters. An indirect blast may cost Michael a few seconds. As Michael hit the ground the grenade detonated. And a magnificent blast at that.
Sudden
ly, there was light. Horribly, painful light. Richard believed God himself had intervened. He fell to his knees, clutching against the searing anguish ripping through his face. Fingers dug into his skull. Tearing his eyes out may subdue this horrible feeling but it would only be a temporary solution. The other crewmembers shared his suffering. They planted their backs to the wall, still writhing from the blast. Michael’s chance to react had struck.
Rolling paid off. Michael lifted himself off the ground and sprang to his feet. The glasses had completely protected him from the explosion. Absorbing the full force of a flash grenade certainly was no easy task. Michael knew they would be a welcomed addition to his arsenal. Unfortunately, his ears did not share the same fate. The stun grenade lived up to its purpose. It disoriented Michael's balance but what little he felt must have been excruciating for his prey.
After finding a solid base, Michael slapped his coat from within using both hands. He reached into his lower back and drew a pair of custom made Desert Eagle pistols. Yet another gift from a fallen member of his list. This sort of stopping power may seem excessive but proved necessary in completing these kinds of operations.
Two and a half seconds had already passed. They would be coming out of it soon. Michael didn't have time for two separate well aimed shots. He had to perform them simultaneously.
Michael pulled both triggers at once; the sights locked on two stooges Montalv had watching the doors. Pairs of shots sharply ripped from each gun sounding like a single burst. His victims were too unsettled to even know they were being marked for death.
The first bullet tore through its targets' open jaw, cutting right through his mouth and extending the opening by five inches. Blood spewed from the gaping hole staining the pure church interior. More shots tagged his chest and right shoulder. Juices exploded, coating everything within the splash zone in crimson goo. His last memory was the sheer anguish the human body could endure before being silenced by the mercy of death.
