Dire Consequences: The Alexander Matthews Chronicles Book 1

by Leji Albano

  This girl—and from his one-hundred fiftyish years perspective, she was a girl—had destroyed a century worth of brooding isolationism in a matter of mere months. Mentally sighing, he acknowledged that there was little he could do about it short of terminating her employment…and he just didn’t think he could bring himself to do that. Like it or not, she was a part of his life now, and one he refused to let go of. Basically, he was fucked, and he knew it.

  Tina slowly rose to consciousness. Something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t put her finger on it immediately. As time went by, she realized she wasn’t in her bed. In fact, she smelled Alexander. His scent permeated the pillow her head was lying on. She smiled lazily; it was…nice. Her eyes snapped wide open, and she rolled over to make sure he wasn’t actually in bed with her. Jesus Christ, Tina. You’re making a habit of sleeping in his rooms, she chastised herself.

  She sat up, curious as to where he might be. At first, she didn’t see him, but motion out of the corner of her eye drew her attention. His skin glistened with sweat as he swept through a series of moves, the sword he was using blurred in figure eights, then suddenly lashing out periodically. He was barefoot and only wearing a tight pair of biker-type shorts, his breathing shallow, frequently gusting out as he went on the offensive. The medallion on a chain around his neck slapped into his wet skin as he advanced and retreated across the floor. She watched raptly. It was like a deadly dance, but it was also strangely beautiful at the same time.

  It ended all too soon, and he noticed her watching while he was toweling off his face. He smiled at her, teeth gleaming in the bright sunlight streaming through the windows. Alexander quickly wiped down the leaf-shaped blade, which Tina now realized she didn’t recognize, before he placed it back onto one of the weapon racks near the dojo.

  “Hungry?” he asked as he walked toward the bed she was sitting in, knees beneath her arms, and chin resting on them.

  “Starving,” she replied.

  “Sweet. Let me grab a quick shower, and I’ll make breakfast while you rinse off.”

  She smiled at him as he walked by, went into the vast walk-in closet only to return holding some clothes, and entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

  When Alexander had finished his morning ablutions and gotten dressed, he set out a new toothbrush, still in its packaging, on the surface of the sink, and a button-up shirt just in case she wanted something fresher than the tee she had worn to bed. He grinned ruefully as he thought, Sorry, kiddo, I don’t wear boxers, so you are stuck with the panties you’re in.

  He ruffled his still-damp hair into a semblance of order and opened the door. Alexander jerked a thumb in the direction of the bathroom and said, “You’re up. I left a new toothbrush on the counter, and a shirt you can borrow if you want.”

  She raised an inquiring eyebrow at him. “Do so many women pass through your bedroom that you keep spare toothbrushes on hand?”

  His cheeks burned in sudden embarrassment. “No. I warned you I was anal. I buy in bulk when I go to Costco.”

  Laughter trailed her as she passed by him and disappeared into the bathroom.

  Breakfast was scrambled eggs, toast, coffee, and orange juice. As they finished up and he placed the dirty dishes in the sink, Alexander asked, “Do you have any plans for today? I know it’s Saturday, but if you aren’t busy, I would like to take you somewhere fun.”

  Tina gave him the hairy-eyeball and said, “Fun, fun? Or Alexander fun?”

  “Maybe a little of both?” he answered sheepishly.

  She considered that briefly. “OK, fine. But I want to go home and change first.”

  He allowed that he could work with that, and requested that she wear comfortable jeans and shoes that she wouldn’t care about getting dirty.

  She gave him some side-eye at that but said she would. They agreed that he would pick her up in front of her apartment building in forty-five minutes, and she bounced over to his private lift and was gone.

  Alexander disappeared into his dressing room briefly, only to reappear carrying a large black tactical bag, which he set on top of the bed. He reached behind the headboard and toggled a switch that released secret compartments built into the base of the sleeping platform. The drawer closest to the headboard contained an impressive array of blades and pistols. He selected two of the pistols and several magazines, then placed them on the mattress. The second drawer held several AR-style rifles. He grabbed a short-barreled version with a folding stock and a full-size model with a medium-size scope. More magazines joined the weapons on the bed.

  Re-toggling the switch closed the compartments, and as they were doing so, he went back into the dressing room and walked out holding two inside-the-waistband holsters. The bag was considerably heavier when he was done, and he set it on the floor near the elevator. The last task he performed was to change into black tactical cargo pants, a SIG Sauer logo t-shirt, and black jungle boots.

  Quickly glancing around to make sure everything was copacetic, he nodded and grabbed the bag prior to entering the lift and punching the button for the sub-basement. Once the doors opened, he quickly made his way to a black BMW 850CSI and settled the tactical bag in the trunk. Seated comfortably behind the wheel, he reached out and patted the dash gently. “Sorry it’s been so long, baby, but you get to go for a ride today.”

  He exited the garage, and within minutes was parked in front of Tina’s apartment building. When she opened the lobby doors, she was greeted with the sight of him leaning against the side of the car, arms crossed nonchalantly across his chest, and wearing yet another pair of high-end sunglasses.

  Tina was shaking her head as she approached the car. “Are any of your cars normal?”

  His quick grin said it all. “Not if I can help it. Besides, this is a classic.”

  Both strapped securely into the car, and he had them rolling down the street. Simultaneously, Alexander continued to regale her with useless information. “She has a 5.6L V12 engine, a finely tuned suspension, and I’m sad to report that they only made this model for four years, ending in 1996. Consider her to be the older sister to your M4.”

  Tina patted the oversized brick phone located between the seats. “More like the grandmother.”

  His face contorted in pain, and he grabbed his chest with one hand. “Don’t listen to her, baby, she knows not what she says. I’ll have you know that this phone is an original that came with the car. If I wanted to, I could likely still pay for the service.”

  “Why the hell would you want to? That thing is ginormous.”

  He sniffed loudly. “Not the point. I could if I wanted to.”

  Alexander turned on the CD player and increased the volume as the first notes of Robert Cray’s Strong Persuader album filled the car. He turned his head and began singing along with the lyrics, and while Tina pretended to cover her ears and crouch down in the seat, but he could see the small smile of enjoyment that she tried to hide.

  He finally relented after the seventh song ended, and he powered off the CD player. “I love that album. I’ve seen him in small venues three times, and every show was amazing.”

  “I liked it. What is the name of the band?”

  “If you want, I can get you a copy. That was Robert Cray, and this CD is easily his best. Some people will tell you it isn’t true blues, but usually, I’d rather listen to him than someone like Muddy Waters or Robert Johnson.”

  They rode the rest of the way in companionable silence until he pulled the car into the driveway of his country house. As he killed the ignition, he turned to her and said, “No one knows about this place except for your aunt, and now you. As a matter of fact, it isn’t even on the list of company assets. I’d appreciate it if it stayed that way.”

  She nodded her head. “I can do that. Why so secret, though?”

  Alexander smirked at her. “It’s my zombie apocalypse bolt-hole.”

  She got out of the car as he went to the trunk and grabbed the bag. He led her to a large
metal outbuilding, set back about seventy-five yards from the main house. Tina wasn’t sure what it was used for as it was relatively narrow, maybe fifty feet wide, but almost one-hundred yards long. She quirked an eyebrow at him and said. “Bowling alley?”

  “Hah! Not quite.”

  Alexander opened the rugged-looking door and waved Tina in, hitting the lights as he entered behind her. As her eyes adjusted, she realized it was an indoor shooting range. He could feel the intense side-eye as he stood beside her, but he chose to ignore it. “Right this way, Madam.”

  He could tell that whatever else she had expected to be doing today, this most definitely wasn’t it. Her resigned footsteps as she reluctantly followed him, amused Alexander. If he had to guess, she had probably never fired a weapon before.

  He opened a locker and tossed her the hearing protection and ballistic glasses she would need. The attractive brunette looked at him skeptically, but slid a band off her wrist and pulled her long wavy hair into a ponytail. Several boxes of ammunition were added to the bag at his feet, then they made their way over to the shooting bench.

  He pulled out one of the pistols and held it pointed at the ground. He showed her how to lock the slide back, ejected the magazine, and visually inspected the bore to ensure that no cartridge was present. “This is a SIG Sauer P320 XFIVE. This one is chambered for .40 S&W caliber, and each magazine holds fourteen rounds.”

  He frowned down at the weapon in his hand for a second then looked up to meet her eyes. “I know that you have probably heard this a thousand times in movies, and maybe even from someone you know, but I cannot reiterate this point enough. You never, ever, point a weapon at anyone, even if it’s unloaded. The only time it is permissible is when you intend to take someone’s life. And if the situation has reached that point, then you don’t hesitate, you don’t think about your actions, you just aim and pull the trigger. Life or death may depend upon it. Yours. Do you understand?”

  A subdued Tina lowered her gaze to the handgun. “I think so. I’m not sure if I could do something like that, though.”

  “Fair enough. None of us ever do until the moment arises, but if you train hard enough, burn it into muscle memory, then more often than not your subconscious will take over and do it for you.”

  For the next twenty minutes, Alexander covered range safety, the specific operations and functionality of the handgun, how to load the magazines, and demonstrated the proper stance and grip. In the end, he pointed at the safety glasses and indicated that she should put on the hearing protection. He attached a target and ran it out to twenty-five feet, then gave her one magazine, which she inserted and chambered a round as he had shown her earlier.

  Tina nervously took her stance and aimed over the sights as instructed, then pulled the trigger. She was startled as the weapon bucked in her hands, and also at the sheer volume of the discharge. Alexander had her clear and safe the pistol before running the paper target back to where they were standing. She could clearly see the bullet hole in the top right corner of the target.

  Alexander pointed to it and said gently, “Squeeze the trigger, don’t jerk it. This is what happens when you do that.” He then explained that she would be going through a process to zero the weapon to her needs. He affixed a red dot approximately one inch in diameter to the center of the target and ran it back out.

  “OK, when I tell you to, I want you to pick the SIG back up, insert the magazine, and slowly squeeze the trigger five times, taking time to aim between shots. Try to keep your grip and stance the same as you do so. Aim at the red dot, ensuring that you are looking down the iron sights. When all five shots are fired, clear and safe the weapon, then step back from the firing line. Clear?” She nodded that she understood.

  He gave her the go-ahead, and she tried to do as Alexander instructed. This time when he pulled the target back, there was another hole high and to the right, but the rest were closer to the center, although still off by about three inches. He made an adjustment to the sights and had her repeat the process after he covered each bullet hole with a white dot. They did this twice more until Tina was consistently hitting close to the zero mark. However, she still had the occasional flyer as he called them.

  Once the SIG was zeroed for her use, he had her shoot through a magazine, swap it out for another, and empty it as well. As he replaced targets in between sessions, she could tell that the groups she was creating were getting smaller…still not good enough, as he demonstrated with the other pistol he had brought. But better.

  “How are your hands and trigger finger feeling?” he asked after an hour.

  “Hmmm, maybe a little sore, but not too bad.” Alexander nodded and reached into the bag and pulled out a strange-looking pair of gloves. They had padding on the knuckles and ridged surfaces on the fingers. He handed them to her and said to use them for the rest of the day.

  “Let’s take a short break. Grab some water from the fridge over by the lockers if you want.”

  When she wandered back after doing just that, he had put the pistol in what he called an inside-the-waistband concealed carry holster. Slipping it through the belt she was wearing, he adjusted the fit until it was snug in the small of her back. He told her that she would carry it that way for the rest of the session, so she could get used to how it might affect her balance as they performed various exercises.

  Tina noted that his handgun was different than the one she was using. He explained that he was using a Walther PPQ M2 .45 caliber. It had fewer rounds per magazine, but compensated with greater knock-down. He knew a lot of what he had told her today had gone straight over her head, but she truly seemed to be enjoying the time at the range. Initially, she had been somewhat timid because it was obvious that no one had ever taken the time to teach her how to shoot. Guns were scary and unnecessary, according to a large portion of people in the world. Yet after spending only an hour or so with Alexander, she seemed to be changing that worldview…. As he had told her, weapons had some inherent dangers, but that could be mitigated by using proper safety procedures, and the single greatest threat came from the user.

  He prepped another target and ran it out almost to the end of the range. Alexander reached down into the bag and pulled out what was obviously a military-style rifle. “This is a SIG Sauer 716 G2 rifle. It fires a 7.62mm round and is extremely reliable.”

  They once again went through operating procedures, and he explained how the scope worked. One section of the waist-level bench was raised, revealing a yoga mat and two sandbags that were on the floor. He helped her get into a proper prone position. Alexander had Tina adjust the sandbags until the barrel of the rifle sat at the right height when she snugged the stock into her shoulder. She observed that the bullets being loaded into the plastic magazines were much larger than what had been used in the pistol.

  Again, he had her go through the zeroing procedure. When the scope was dialed in, she fired several magazines while she got comfortable with the weapon. By the time he had her safe the rifle, her shoulder was starting to get sore, but he insisted that she handle one more weapon. According to him, it was an AR-15 set up very similarly to the M4 rifle used in the military. There was a different type of sight called a Red Dot, and the stock folded to make the whole thing smaller. Additionally, there was a handgrip toward the end of the barrel that allowed her to control the rise of the barrel and more easily aim it. She learned that this weapon fired a smaller NATO standardized round in 5.56mm.

  Instead of having her fire from the prone position this time, he allowed her to stand. He ran the target out to fifty feet, and she established a zero relatively quickly. Unlike the more massive rifle, this one was light and shorter overall, which made it easier for her to use. While she fired it, she realized there was considerably less kick, which was evident from the look of relief on her face, as her shoulder was almost certainly a bit sore.

  Using the red dot sight proved to be almost intuitive, and her shots were hitting very close to where she wanted them
to, spanning only a couple of inches on the target.

  All too soon, Alexander stopped her and determined that they had trained enough for one day. He took the weapons she had used and put them in an empty locker near the entrance, along with the shooting glasses and hearing protection. “These are yours if you decide you want to continue learning how to use them. If that is the case, I will show you how to clean them next time, along with the proper maintenance each needs to stay in good working order.”

  She nodded thoughtfully.

  “I come out to the range several times a month, and you are welcome to join me if you want.”

  Once he had locked and secured the building, they got back into the car and headed into town. Twenty minutes into the ride, a visibly troubled Tina asked, “Alexander, why did you take me out to your place and teach me how to use these weapons?”

  She chuckled a bit, then said, “Don’t get me wrong, I totally enjoyed myself after a while, and I’m feeling pretty badass, but what was the purpose?”

  “Other than just for the fun of it?

  “Yeah.”

  He turned to look at her with a level gaze. “The world is not always a safe place, and sometimes a knife just isn’t good enough.”

  Tina rode in silence, left to consider what he had said…and what he hadn’t.

  10

  “…As time went by, the technology they had brought with them began to wear out, becoming increasingly more difficult to maintain and manufacture. The decision was made to triage what was most essential and to come up with other, less technical, and more sustainable methods to perform day-to-day tasks….”

  Excerpt from the diary of Alexander Matthews

  May 1962, Beirut, Lebanon

  The elusive scent continued to lead Alexander along the Rue de Phenicie. The night air was filled with music and laughter as people enjoyed themselves at any of the many clubs that lined the street. This town was a jet-setter's dream with its five-star hotels, happening nightlife, and cosmopolitan feel. It was difficult not to be drawn into its seductive embrace.