Marx Girl

by T L Swan

  We can’t use guns…yet.

  The guards have to be taken out by hand so the others aren’t notified.

  One walks around the corner and I jump him, twisting our bodies until my hands are around his throat. I hear the swift, sharp crack as his neck breaks. His body falls to the ground.

  I wait in silence for the other one to appear.

  He walks around the corner. I jump on him and slam his head into the wall until he is unconscious.

  I walk back around to the front corner of the house.

  “Position?” I whisper into the headpiece.

  “In front.”

  “I’m going in the back door,” I whisper.

  “Affirmative. Say the word and we come in the front.”

  If I can get into the house undetected, I can locate the weapon before all hell breaks loose. We have a truck waiting a few kilometres up the road, ready to transport the weapon.

  We are all fitted with cameras. The White House is watching our every move.

  They see what we see.

  I step over the bodies of the two guards and check the back door, thankful that, miraculously, it’s open.

  My heart is beating hard.

  I twist it slowly and walk in as I grip my gun in front of me.

  I’m in the kitchen and I can hear them talking in the living area at the front of the house.

  I will have to come around the corner and shoot the lot of them in five seconds or I’ll be dead.

  “I’m in,” I whisper through the headpiece.

  “Roger that.”

  I walk up the darkened hall, past the doorway of the room where the family sit, bound and gagged.

  The man sees me and his eyes widen in fear. I put my finger to my mouth to tell him to remain silent.

  He nods, terrified of what’s about to happen.

  I stand in the hallway, gun drawn, and I listen to them for a moment. I take a quick glance at the stairs behind me, mentally giving the place an internal risk assessment.

  I need to secure upstairs first. We have no idea who’s up there, if anyone.

  “No weapon sighting,” I whisper. “I’m going upstairs.”

  “Be careful.”

  I get down low and sneak up the stairs. The second top stair creaks loudly and I close my eyes.

  My heart hammers as I stand still for a moment.

  Clear.

  I check upstairs room by room. Nobody. “Upstairs clear,” I whisper.

  “Roger that.”

  “The front door is separated from where they currently are. I’m going to come at them from the back. Wait for three shots, and then come in through the front.”

  “Copy that.”

  I sneak back down the stairs and out into the back of the house, making my way into the kitchen. I peer into the living area. I can see the weapon sitting in a box on the table.

  “Visual on the weapon. I repeat: visual on the weapon. Shoot to kill,” I whisper.

  I wait for a moment and then I twist my body, emerging from the corner.

  I shoot one.

  I shoot two.

  They all jump and reach for their weapons, and I shoot another.

  The room turns to chaos.

  The front door bursts open and my four soldiers run in, spraying bullets in all directions.

  All men down.“

  Get the truck around here now.” I growl. “Get it outside!” I cry.

  The soldiers all grab a corner and carry it out the front, but it’s heavy. I can’t image the damage it could do.

  I run into the room and begin untying the family.

  “You speak English?” I ask as I untie the man first.

  The man shakes his head.

  The woman and children are crying.

  He helps me untie the others.

  I hear the truck pull up out front.

  “Buzz, get out here.”

  I struggle to untie the little girl.

  “Buzz, get out here now!”

  I struggle with the ropes.

  Gunfire rips through the air.

  Fuck. I pick up the little girl.

  “Buzz. Where the fuck are you?”

  “Go without me. I can’t leave them here,” I cry.

  “Get out here!”

  “Go, get the weapon out of here now!” I yell.

  The truck takes off at full speed, and I grab the family. We run out the back and to the barn.

  Gunfire explodes everywhere

  We make it across the paddock and hide in the darkness of the barn.

  I listen.

  So many male voices.

  I hear the truck leaving and I hear a car take off after them.

  The truck is armoured.

  Just a kilometre up the road and the weapon will be safe.

  They’ll be outnumbered and killed.

  We have many soldiers waiting. We couldn’t risk them coming in in case the weapon was detonated.

  There is car in the barn and I open the door.

  “Key?” I say.

  The man looks at me, not understanding.

  “Keys...” I whisper. I make a hand gesture, trying to turn an imaginary key, but he shakes his head and points to the house.

  Fuck it.

  I get in, rip the dash off and begin to hot-wire it.

  I can hear voices getting louder as they approach, obviously after the car.

  Fuck.

  The family are huddled in the car in the dark. The woman is sobbing in fear.

  I gesture for the man to get into the driver’s seat.

  “When I start it, you drive,” I whisper.

  He frowns.

  “Go!” I point to the road. “Go, I’ll cover you.”

  He seems to understand and I zap the wires together. The car starts with a roar.

  I run to the side of the barn and begin to fire at the men. I need to cover the car or they won’t get away. I shoot one man, and then another.

  Only two more to go.

  The car screams down the driveway. I keep shooting so that they can’t pull their weapons.

  They get away.

  Thank God.

  I run around to the outside back of the barn and I check my ammunition.

  Six bullets.

  Two men.

  I close my eyes. I can’t miss.

  I grip my gun in my hand as I hear them approaching.

  My heart is pounding so fucking hard.

  Bridget. I need to get home to Bridget.

  I pant as I try to catch my breath.

  With renewed determination, I grip my gun.

  Nobody is going to stop me getting home to her.

  Not today, motherfuckers.

  Not ever.

  I spin my body around, appearing out of nowhere to fire a spray of bullets at the enemy.

  Both men down.

  I pant, desperately trying to catch my breath, and I fall to the ground in relief.

  “He then walked twenty-two kilometres alone until he made it back to camp,” The President continues and I am brought back to the present moment.

  I have no idea what he’s been saying.

  “Congratulations, son. You are the army’s finest.” He puts the medal on the blue ribbon around my neck and shakes my hand with a broad smile on his face. The crowds cheer.

  I turn to see Bridget laughing, clapping, and crying with pride, and I smile.

  A medal is just a medal.

  But her love is my lifeline.