Wanted

by Ho, Jo

  A fat cop shackled Sully and marched him inside an elevator. I watched the numbers until they stopped at B, then we darted out of sight and into a stairwell. Taking the steps two at a time, we shot down them until we arrived outside a door marked “Basement”. I grabbed the handle and twisted. As quietly as I could manage, I tugged the door opened and we stole inside.

  We found ourselves in a gray, windowless, stone security block. Cut off from the sunshine, the temperature down here plummeted and I found myself shivering. I studied the reception desk up ahead. It was manned by a lone female cop. Behind her, there were a bunch of adjoining glass offices where I could see Sully being escorted into a holding cell.

  I scanned the floor and located two cameras. One pointed at reception, the other overlooked the corridor that Sully had disappeared down. So our problem was threefold. We needed to bust Sully out of there while avoiding both cops and cameras. I was thinking the odds were majorly against us when I remembered I had a furry secret weapon on four legs.

  As I stared at the cameras, a plan came together in my mind.

  “Bandit…” I whispered. He pressed up against me and whined, waiting for my next command.

  “How’s your night vision?” I asked.

  CHAPTER 40

  SULLY

  I stared around my small cell. With nothing to do and no possible means of escaping, I contemplated how my life had changed over the course of only a few days. From hero to zero.

  At least that’s what the cops around here thought of me. HPA, the organization behind this whole shebang — if that was even their real name — were prolific with their lies. As I was marched into my cell, the passing cops glared at me like the leper they thought I was. One guy almost spat in my face. I wasn’t entirely sure whether he had missed on purpose or not.

  As soon as I was shunted into the cell, Sholtz had reluctantly released my hands from the cuffs. Out of protocol, I knew, as opposed to the kindness of his heart. I was no longer considered a threat now that I was locked up in a 12 x 12 cell. A tiny barred window stood nine feet from the floor. Even if I could’ve gotten up there and somehow managed to tear the bars away, no amount of watching my diet and exercising would have made me fit through that small square. Other than the window, my prison contained a steel urinal that stank to high heaven and a flat bench that was wide enough to sleep on but not enough to be comfortable. If I managed to get out of this alive, I knew I would never complain about Motel 6 ever again.

  I rubbed at the purple welts on my wrists, surprised they were all the injury I had sustained. Well, that, and the giant bruise that now covered my midsection. I poked gingerly at my side and inhaled a sharp intake of breath at the pain that caused, but happily, no ribs were cracked. I would take every small win right now.

  Sholtz had warned me that the FBI had been notified of my capture, and several agents were now on route to extract me. I couldn’t help the involuntary shudder the word “extract” had caused. Not knowing the real reason behind my reaction, Sholtz had grinned like the Cheshire Cat. Here was a man who enjoyed the suffering of others. The term “innocent until proven guilty” didn’t seem to cross his mind. Then again, I didn’t think Sholtz had much of a mind inside that gaping large head of his. I started pacing the small cell as panic set in.

  HPA’s men thought nothing of breaking into a person’s home and attacking them. Hell, they’d burned my clinic down. Once they had me in their hands, what would they do to “extract” the information they wanted? I stopped pacing suddenly and hoped to God Chase had managed to escape. If they ever got a hold of that girl…

  I shook myself, surprised by the level of my feelings. Since the day I had buried my wife, I had carefully cultivated a sense of detachment. Self-preservation really, so this new concern for the two’s welfare came as quite the shock. As did the realization that, for the first time in eight months, the thought of Emma didn’t bring a searing pain in my chest.

  I was still marvelling at this not-so-small miracle when the lights blew out, plunging the floor into darkness.

  CHAPTER 41

  SULLY

  I could hear shouts of alarm rising around me, though I knew it would only be moments before a backup generator kicked in. Even smalltown mall cops have a contingency plan. I sat onto the cold bench, waiting for the commotion to die down, when I heard the sound of heavy breathing.

  Wait, not breathing. Panting.

  My nose caught an undeniable scent. Dog breath. In disbelief, I called out quietly.

  “Bandit?”

  My reply was a soft, “Woof.”

  Something metallic clattered onto the floor. I dropped on all fours, moving towards the general direction of the sound, until my fingers brushed against a set of keys. Relief swam through me in waves. Feeling my way around, I found the lock and inserted a key. It wasn’t the right one. Fingering a larger key, I tried that next.

  “Come on, we don’t have much time,” came Chase’s bodiless voice.

  She had appeared like a ghost. I hadn’t even heard her arrival. Someone not too far away shouted.

  “We found the breaker!”

  As power surged back into the building, I inserted the right key and twisted.

  By the time the lights flickered back on, the cell was empty.

  CHAPTER 42

  CHASE

  Bandit couldn’t contain his excitement as Sully snuck out of the cell, and did several circuits around him, but if I was expecting gratitude, I had another thing coming.

  “Of all the stupid… I told you to run,” Sully hissed at me through the dark.

  “Seriously?” I managed back. “I think the words you’re looking for are, thank you!”

  “This isn’t a game, Chase! They could catch you both… I can’t believe you came back…”

  I was too concerned with our predicament to do this particular dance right now. “There’s no time to argue, let’s just get out of here,” I instructed. My eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, but even then, I could barely make out three steps ahead of me. I grabbed onto Bandit’s makeshift collar with one hand and Sully with the other. “Hurry boy, get us out of here.”

  Bandit barked softly, then shot into action, weaving quickly and surely through the corridors. We’d been going maybe five seconds when the strip lights above us started to flicker.

  “Duck!” Sully cried out.

  We dropped into a crouch, flattening ourselves against the wall, Bandit pressed up against me. Light flooded the room. In preparation for this, I had shielded my eyes. Consequently, my recovery time was fast. I blinked the haze away and took in our surroundings.

  We were in one of the glass offices. Luckily, this one was empty. Unluckily, we were surrounded by four glass walls. If anyone came down either of the flanking corridors, we’d be seen. Sully pointed ahead of us.

  “That’s the reception desk. If we can make it there, the exit’s just beyond.”

  I nodded. So now we had a plan.

  “Bandit. You first. Head for the door.”

  Knowing stealth was of the utmost importance, he didn’t bark, but pawed the ground at me. At my nod, he took off, a streak of brown across the floor. He was going so fast, he almost overshot the door. I saw him dig in his back heels and skid to a stop. He leapt up, grasped the fire exit door handle in his mouth, and tugged down. The door opened silently. He waited, propping the door ajar, head tilted towards us.

  Sully gestured, and now it was my turn to make a run for it. I kept low, which wasn’t hard for me since I’m pretty short anyway. My sneakers squeaked on the linoleum floor, but I figured they wouldn’t hear that over the noise the cops were generating: self congratulations and war stories if you can believe that. I made it to Bandit and slid past him into the stairwell.

  Sully came after us. He was halfway across the floor when his injured ankle gave out. He dropped, and a cry escaped his lips, drawing the attention of the reception cop.

  “What the… you! Stop right there!”
she yelled.

  Sully scrambled up and half ran, half hopped over to us. I lunged forward to help him, but he shook me off, pointing at the wall behind me.

  “The fire axe!” he shouted.

  I bolted to the cabinet housing the axe in question and smashed my elbow inside. Safety glass shattered into shards, raining harmlessly over my feet. I wrenched the axe from its moorings and rushed back to Sully. He grabbed it from my hands and wedged it between the handle of the door we’d just come through and the top step.

  The cop came flying into the door just then, but the axe held. She threw herself at the door but wasn’t able to get it open more than a foot. She pressed her face into the gap.

  “You’re in enough trouble as it is! We can do a deal if you stop running and turn yourselves in.”

  I stared her directly in the face. “ Whatever they’ve told you about him, it’s all lies. Sully hasn’t done anything.” Before she could respond, I slid under Sully’s arm to ease some of the weight off of his injured ankle, and together, we hobbled up the stairs as more cops threw themselves at the door.

  Moments later we burst onto the mall’s main parade and headed quickly but discreetly to an exit. A few shoppers cast raised eyebrows our way, but no one intervened.

  When we got outside, a bus was just pulling up. We didn’t even see the destination sign, we just climbed on and hunkered down by the back. Only when the bus pulled away did we allow ourselves to breathe again. I couldn’t believe we’d just engineered our first jail break.

  Sadly, it wouldn’t be our last.

  CHAPTER 43

  THE MERCENARY

  The Mercenary popped an aspirin and chased it down with a can of red bull that he downed in one gulp. He flexed his fingers until the can flattened into a metal disc, compressed in his gorilla-like hand.

  He’d picked up news of Sullivan’s capture on his police scanner and was heading to the mall when the blackout had happened. The Mercenary had been at this line of work almost his entire life and knew better than to believe in coincidences.

  It was that damn dog again. He was sure of it.

  He swung the unlicensed sedan into the parking lot and opened the glove compartment. Inside was a multitude of fake ID’s. The Mercenary fished around until he found the one he was looking for. He stared down at his own face, only the one in the photo was neater and dressed, as he was now, in an all-black suit. The Mercenary checked his reflection in the rearview mirror. He wasn’t a vain man, but took pride in pulling off a passable disguise. The face he saw smiling back at him was strong, with eyes that challenged anyone foolish enough to disagree with him. He nodded to himself, pleased. A believable official.

  Sliding a government-issued firearm into his shoulder holster, The Mercenary emerged from the car and made his way inside.

  A few minutes later he was standing by the reception desk. A frazzled young cop stared back at him. Seems she hadn’t had a good day and was now taking it out on him. Or so she thought. The Mercenary wasn’t anyone’s punching bag. Unsmiling, The Mercenary flipped her his FBI badge, gestured at the cameras, and demanded to see the CCTV footage of their prisoner’s escape.

  She took offence at his tone but called her superior, a man named Sholtz. Sholtz was typical of these generic mall staff. Overweight and full of self-importance. The Mercenary would have fun taking him down a peg or two.

  Sholtz reluctantly lead The Mercenary into the CCTV booth. A bank of monitors were already cued up with the requested footage. The Mercenary leaned forward and twisted the navigational cog. On the screens, the images sprang to life. The Mercenary recognized the corridor he had walked down only moments before, but as the camera panned left and settled on the reception desk, the screens fell black.

  “We found a bunch of wires pulled from the breaker box. The kid, no doubt, but it doesn’t make sense. If he kidnapped her, why would she sneak back to help him?”

  The Mercenary stared down his nose at him. This fool hadn’t noticed the girl or the dog, despite The Mercenary’s fake police report. As far as he was concerned, Sholtz wasn’t good enough to lick his shoes. “You haven’t heard of Stockholm Syndrome, when a victim begins feeling trust and affection towards their captor? That’s unfortunately what must be happening here.” The Mercenary hoped that would be enough to shut him up, but Sholtz however, had no idea the repulsion he caused in The Mercenary and continued talking in his irritating voice.

  “Not sure what you’re hoping for unless you can see in the dark.”

  Without a word, The Mercenary retrieved a pair of glasses from his pocket. They had a retro wayfarer style, though the lenses were tinted red. If truth be told, they were far too hipster-looking for his taste, but since they weren’t a vanity item, The Mercenary slipped them onto his face and triggered a barely perceivable switch on the right arm. Electricity hummed through the frame as the glasses powered up. He stared through the red lenses until the augmented imaging kicked in. Suddenly, he could clearly see the reception desk on the monitors. The glasses were a high-tech IED — Image Enhancement Device — designed and created by one of the Boss’s many genius lackeys, and The Mercenary’s favorite weapon of choice.

  “Are those what I think they are?” the hapless cop asked.

  “Yes,” came The Mercenary’s curt reply.

  “Always wondered what they would be like to use.”

  In response, The Mercenary deliberately turned his back on him. “You may leave.”

  Sholtz bristled, finally comprehending the brush off. From the corner of his eye, The Mercenary could see Sholtz hesitating, wondering if he should retort back. He must have thought better of it, as he spun on his heel and left. The Mercenary turned his attention to the screen and proceeded to watch Sullivan breakout.

  CHAPTER 44

  CHASE

  We’d been riding silently on the bus for hours. Sully stared moodily out of the window, hands gripped into fists that only seemed to squeeze tighter the farther we got from his home. He didn’t say anything, but I knew his mind was on his wife and the life he’d left behind. While I still wasn’t super keen on the idea of his tagging along, part of me was learning to deal with it. Like, what was I gonna do? Send him away? The man could barely function. Besides, we had bigger problems to deal with, like how he didn’t have a clue where we were heading. My mind wasn’t much help either, drawing blanks as it was.

  I shifted my position. Not for the first time, I wondered why the seats were designed to be so uncomfortable. It’s like they didn’t want you to ride the bus for a long journey. I looked down at Bandit, lying on the floor between my feet. He seemed more subdued than usual. I think something was bothering him, but he wasn’t able to voice what.

  Which reminded me.

  I took out the easiest book we’d bought from the Dollar Store and laid it by his feet. The bus was pretty empty, and most passengers preferred to sit up front. I think actually because of Bandit. Seems the general public don’t like to be near a dog in a contained space. Made me wonder what kinds of dogs they were accustomed to. Bandit instantly perked up and pricked his ears forward. I bent down and whispered at him.

  “We’ll do a quiz later, OK?”

  His tongue snaked out and licked my nose making me regret being so nice to him.

  The bus chugged through several New England neighborhoods. We passed a cheerful sign that said SCRANTON, Pennsylvania. WELCOME HOME! It looked like a nice enough place. The sidewalks were free from litter, shopfronts were clean with fresh coats of paint. Any people I could see were busy moving to and from work or meeting up with friends. I only counted one homeless person, which is generally how I measure a town’s success rate. I felt the bus slow down and craned my head around. We were turning into a bus terminal, where a small strip of sad looking businesses did trade.

  “End of the line, folks,” the bus driver called out.

  Somewhere along our ride we’d lost most of the passengers, so there was only an elderly couple who made their w
ay to the exit with us. I moved aside to let them pass first. The old woman smiled at me, then looked at Sully.

  “What a polite daughter you have.”

  Sully’s eyebrows shot up so high I worried they would shoot right off his face. He went to correct her, but I elbowed him silent.

  “Thank you ma’am. I try.” Why draw more attention to ourselves, right? Our motley “family” descended the bus and headed into the adjoining diner, which was clean, if uninspiring. Tablecloths covered plastic furniture that was yellow with age. We found a table, whose leg somebody had shoved a piece of cardboard coaster under to keep it steady. We sat down. I instantly grabbed a menu and pored over the offerings. That was the thing about being broke and homeless; food is a BIG deal. The biggest.

  Sully signalled a nearby waitress. She was big-chested woman, with even bigger red hair, all done up in a towering beehive. I couldn’t stop staring. Must’ve been a whole can of hairspray up in there.

  “I’m Rose, what can I do for ya?” she said, chewing a piece of gum noisily with her mouth open.

  “Can I just get a bowl of water for the dog while we look at the menu?” Sully barely looked at her, but he seemed to have an immediate effect on Red. She stopped chewing her gum and batted fake eyelashes at him.

  “Well of course, Sugar. I’ll be right back for your order.” She headed for the kitchen, swinging her hips as she went. I was pretty sure it was all for Sully’s benefit; shame he wasn’t looking. He opened his wallet and took out the remaining cash. It was a pitiful supply. We’d have enough for a light meal here, but there wouldn’t be much left after eating. He rubbed at his eyes, the weight of the world sitting on his shoulders.