Beloved Weapon

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Beloved Weapon Page 11

by Jonathan A. Price


  She stormed past Marc and Silk, where her bike sat waiting near a curb, the engine humming.

  “Good luck,” Marc said.

  Nia nodded and faced the road. The roar of her motorcycle engine filled the air and roared away.

  Nia sped toward an expressway, heading south, toward the location as ordered by Alvarez. Her bike leapt upon an on-ramp and soared across the open three-lane road, overtaking many cars and trucks with its incredible speed.

  If anything happened to Bobby, I swear… she thought.

  Dazzling white light suddenly surrounded her—the high beams of a black van that pulled up her behind her motorcycle.

  The passenger-side window of the van slid down and the figure of a muscular man dressed in black leaned halfway out. Tightly gripped in his hands was a high-powered submachine gun.

  Nia glanced back and gasped.

  Machine gun fire tore through the air, bullets screaming directly at her.

  Nia quickly swerved to the side as the shots ripped through the asphalt of the highway.

  The van swerved toward Nia’s bike in an attempt to crash, but Nia reacted quickly, leaning hard on her side and turning away. Screaming horns of passing vehicles blared by as other drivers spun out of control at the sight and sound of the gunfire. Nia’s bike and the van zoomed away from the rest of traffic, narrowly escaping a vicious pileup of multiple cars crashing.

  These guys don’t give a damn who gets hurt, huh? Nia thought angrily. No more holding back.

  Nia slowed down, positioning herself behind the van.

  “She’s behind us!” said a voice.

  “Open the hatch!” another voice shouted. “Bust her right in the face!”

  Nia increased her speed and began to control her bike with a single hand, her other one reaching within her coat. She clutched the handle of a machine gun, her finger grazing the trigger.

  Nia stopped to think. Was she going to do this? Would she —

  Bobby’s words echoed in her mind.

  “…you need to put some of them out of your misery…”

  Nia jerked her head to the side as machine gun fire whizzed past her head.

  Back to reality.

  She had no choice.

  She drew one of her AK-47s and aimed it at the back of the van, listening carefully. She heard a click, and she knew the back doors of the van were unlocked. As soon as the doors flew aside, Nia pulled the trigger.

  Rapid-fire bullets made a soldier dance in place, blood soaring past in the wind.

  Her heart thundered in her chest. She’d carried guns for years, but for the first time in her life, Nia killed a man with one.

  It didn’t feel as strange as she’d expected it would.

  “Johnson!” screamed a voice while the body slammed on the van’s floor and slumped out. His body crashed and rolled on the street, the wheels of passing vehicles crushing the corpse with a sickening rumble.

  Nia tightened her grip on her bike’s handles and sped up, swerving until she placed herself back in front of the van, to get a good look at the occupants. Like the men in the Hallegan Building, they wore black spandex outfits under body armor with full tactical gear, and ski masks hid their faces.

  Nia shoved her machine gun back into her jacket, reaching for another weapon.

  The van sped up, bumping into the back tire of Nia’s bike. Her vehicle began to wobble back and forth, but Nia stiffened her muscles and held onto the handlebars with all her might, forcing the bike back under her control.

  Nia yanked a grenade from her coat, flicked the pin off with her thumb and raised it in the air. Without hesitation, she hurled it at the van.

  The driver gasped in horror as the round object struck the front grate of the van, and instantly exploded.

  The blast forced Nia to lean forward, a fireball of orange and white erupting behind her with a thunderous boom.

  She breathed a sigh of relief and looked back again…in shock.

  The van slashed through a plume of smoke and flame, continuing to speed toward her; its frame damaged and smoking, but intact.

  Nia twisted around, aiming behind her as her motorcycle steadily kept ahead of the van, an invisible bridge of distance maintained between the two vehicles as they sped along the road. She drew her AK-47 again, firing directly at the windshield. Nia was astounded when her bullets didn’t even dent. The rounds bounced off the window like dust in the air.

  The driver stared at Nia and nodded cockily, his cheeks stretching the sides of his mask and betraying his confident grin. The vehicle was designed for combat. They knew what they were up against, and they came prepared.

  Then Nia noticed something… the grate that protected the van’s engine fell away and clattered onto the road. It must have been dislodged by the grenade’s blast.

  Nia put away the AK-47 and drew a shotgun, and lost no time pulling the trigger.

  The blast from her shotgun tore a large hole in the van’s engine. A plume of smoke quickly rose, pulled by the drift. The smoke covered the front of the van like a billowy blanket.

  “Damn it!” the driver yelled. “I can’t see!”

  The van swerved back and forth as if in the hands of a drunk. Frightened drivers zooming by in the opposite direction frantically steered away from it. The other men in the van followed their instincts and leaped out, rolling and tumbling on the road.

  Nia forced all of her weight on her handlebars and pressed the brake, which forced the rear wheel of her bike to lift from the ground, performing a stoppie. Balancing forward, she skidded ahead, her elevated rear wheel narrowly missed by the careening van behind her.

  The van tore through the restraining gate on the highway and tumbled down a massive hill, sinking into the river.

  The remaining soldiers pulled handguns, but suddenly realized the folly of wearing all black on the highway in the dead of the night. Horns blared and blinding headlights whipped about as the other cars flew by, forcing the men to ignore their target and concentrate on their own survival.

  Nia Black sped away.

  She eventually pulled up to the warehouse and turned off her bike’s ignition, laying it on its side within the dying reeds. She observed the scene.

  The building was old and dilapidated, its wooden planks peeling from the foundation and had several windows cracked or broken, the once colorful ‘Riley Distributing’ logo faded and weathered with age.

  Despite the desolation however, the area was akin to a lively military base. Nia could make out black-uniformed men, armed with pistols and assault rifles, pacing back and forth within the building. Several vans like the vehicle Nia dealt with on the highway sat at rest around the building. From the number of vans parked, Nia guessed there were at least two dozen soldiers waiting for her.

  She slid shells inside of her shotguns, attached fresh magazines to her AK-47s, and slammed new clips inside of her pistols before slowly stepping up to the warehouse’s large double doors.

  Nia stopped in her tracks when brilliant beams of light suddenly shined on her, the intense glare stunning her vision for an instant. Mounted strobe lights sat on top of the building, manned by guards. A booming voice, amplified by a public address system, filled the air.

  “Nia Black!”

  “What the—who are you?”

  “You know me, baby,” the voice continued. “We met the other night in the Hallegan building! Name’s Armstrong! It’s good to see you again. Now, let’s get straight to the point, all right? Drop your shit, put your hands up, and come inside, or your friends are dead!”

  “Where the hell’s your boss?!” Nia screamed. “Where the fuck is Alvarez?”

  “Bitch, I am the boss!” Armstrong bellowed. “I’m running this operation! If you think I’m playing with you… yo, bring her over here!”

  Nia heard the sounds of a scuffle echoing over the PA system. She made out Charlene’s yelps.

  “Get off me! Get off my hair!”

  “Shut the fuck up!”
/>   Then the sound of bone smacking flesh echoed and Nia flinched as the thump of a body hitting the ground echoed in the air.

  “Like I said, this is all my call. I will snap this skinny bitch like a twig if you don’t do what I tell you, right now! You know what I can do!”

  Nia stopped to think. She thought about Bobby, all those nights of passion she shared with him. She always worried it would be temporary, and wondered if she would eventually have to uproot, or risk her dangerous lifestyle becoming a threat to the fragile peace that he and Charlene enjoyed, despite her strong feelings toward Bobby.

  But it was far too late to worry about that. Nia cared for Bobby, and he loved Charlene, so she couldn’t allow anything to happen to either of them.

  “Let Bobby and Charlene go now!” Nia demanded. “You want me, right? Fine, let them ride away on my motorcycle. Then I can’t get away! But if you hurt them, I will be out of here so fast…”

  “Drop your guns first. No games!”

  Nia watched as the warehouse doors opened. Soldiers emerged, leading Bobby and Charlene out, both with the barrels of assault rifles pressed into their backs.

  Nia looked at them and saw the anguish in their eyes; Bobby’s sorrow and dread, his secret exposed; and Charlene, whose bruised face only made the bitter rage emanating from her more apparent as she glared at her hated rival. Armed soldiers nudged Bobby and Charlene in the direction of Nia’s bike as Armstrong approached Nia.

  “Throw your weapons away. Do it now!” said Armstrong as he aimed his weapon at Nia’s head.

  Staring down the barrel of his rifle, Nia tossed her shotguns and her AK-47s into the grassy field.

  Armstrong turned his weapon toward Bobby and Charlene.

  “You know, we might as well ventilate these two right now. Why wait?” Armstrong muttered, his finger twitching on his Magnum’s trigger. “There ain’t no cops or other witnesses out here, so it doesn’t even need to look like an accident. They just got murdered out on the streets one sad night and buried in a field; that’s what the news can say.”

  “I’ve got no problem with that,” replied one of the soldiers. “Already got our contact at the newspaper on speed dial.”

  “What?!” Nia screamed.

  “‘Kill the civilians’?” Charlene gasped. “Hey wait, that’s…no…NO!”

  The soldiers cocked and leveled their weapons.

  Fifteen

  Nia turned toward Bobby and Charlene.

  “Get down.”

  “Nia…what…?” Bobby stammered.

  “Now!” Nia hollered as she reached inside her jacket.

  Bobby immediately threw his arm around Charlene, dragging them both to the ground.

  Armstrong’s lips parted; he started to say something, then a red blast popped from his forehead as three bangs echoed in the air. His accomplices tumbled to the ground after him, their heads sputtering blood.

  Nia lowered her smoking Baby Eagle.

  Charlene suddenly squealed, her body jittering uncontrollably as the soldiers fell to the ground dead. “H-h-how…you…you killed…”

  “Damn, ain’t you ever seen a person get shot before?”

  “N-not in real life!!” Charlene cried. “You…you’re crazy! You’re…you lost your mind or something!”

  Nia sheathed her weapons, rushed over to her motorcycle and lifted it back up.

  “Charlene, what, I wasn’t supposed to kill them? You think they were playing? This shit is real! It was us or them! Now, get your asses on this bike!”

  “What the hell is going on, Nia?” Bobby said. He tried to calm Charlene by grabbing her shoulders. “Who are these guys? What they want with you?”

  “I don’t care who the hell they are!” Charlene snapped, thrashing about and forcing Bobby off her. “Just get me the fuck out of here!”

  “Just get on the bike and get out of here! I’m going to make sure they don’t bother any of us anymore,” said Nia.

  Charlene followed Bobby as he climbed on Nia’s bike. Charlene reluctantly wrapped her arms around Bobby’s waist as he started the ignition. She was still shuddering at the sight of the deaths. But Nia could tell Charlene hadn’t forgotten about her rage toward them. Charlene looked disgusted that she had to rely on them for her safety, the revolting pair that betrayed her so mercilessly.

  “Charlene…” Nia shouted out.

  Charlene slowly turned to Nia.

  “What?”

  “…I’m sorry.”

  Silence followed. Charlene looked at Bobby, then back at Nia.

  “Go, Bobby.”

  The motorcycle roared away, wobbling back and forth. Nia hollered.

  “Don’t crash my ride, Bobby! Damn, do you even know how to drive?”

  Nia turned back toward the building as the bike shrank in the distance. More soldiers poured out of the facility, including the men who’d been manning the strobe lights before. They were off now, the area illuminated only by moonlight. The men leveled their weapons and stood in formation before her.

  “Kill her! Kill her now!”

  Nia wasted no time. She whipped out her AK-47s and their thunderous chatter crackled the air, while she leapt out of the way of their gunfire, swirling her body in the air like a gymnast.

  Shredded bodies collapsed in heaps under Nia’s gunfire, showering the air in crimson rain. Nia began to grin. She thought she’d have trouble killing her assailants, but after what they put her and her friends through, Nia felt no remorse.

  She instinctively listened for the sound of their fingers touching the triggers, the sound of the mechanisms moving bullets into the chambers and the hammers igniting the gunpowder, and her body moved out of the line of fire almost automatically.

  Nia continued to blast away at every attacker that crossed her path, her arms extended, and her fingers locked on the triggers. She sidestepped every shot that flew her way and answered the shooters with bullets, their heads cracking like coconuts, their bodies bursting into blood-soaked lumps.

  Where is he?! Nia thought. Where is that Alvarez dude? I could have sworn he was running the show. But nobody’s giving orders now that that Armstrong guy is down. I just don’t see his big dumb ass pulling off nothin’ like this. Something’s not right.

  The rattling sound of the AK-47s changed to a rapid clicking, and Nia tossed the empty guns aside as she stepped closer to the building.

  Bullets rang out and struck the ground where Nia was standing an instant after she leaped backwards out of the way. Six more agents, trying to ambush Nia, leaped from behind the doors of the warehouse and landed in front of her.

  Nia pulled out her shotguns and fired one shot from both guns simultaneously, knocking away all six soldiers with a thundering boom, their perforated bodies flailing in all directions away from Nia like bloodstained rag dolls. The recoil from both guns discharging at the same time was so powerful that it forced Nia to take a step backward.

  Is that all of them? Nia thought. She turned around to make sure and—

  Whoosh!

  She sidestepped just in time to avoid a massive fist, dodging a punch that nearly took her head clean off.

  Nia faced her attacker, and her jaw dropped.

  The man called Armstrong stood before her, but he looked different. His torso had tripled in size and his muscle mass made his head look comically small. His pupils shrank and his eyes were almost full-on white. He looked like a demon.

  Her eyes met his fierce glare as blood trailed from the bullet dent in his forehead, tracing a path down and across his round nose. The bullet itself sat imbedded in muscle mass pulsating from his skull, barely penetrating his flesh and bone.

  Armstrong growled like a beast as he leveled his gigantic fists, his monstrous shadow looming over Nia like a towering tree in the moonlight.

  “Oh my God…” Nia mumbled.

  She realized that Armstrong wasn’t just a heavy hitter, as she thought after her initial encounter with him in the Hallegan Building. She hadn
’t imagined his hand growing and shrinking before—there was something different about him…something corrupt about his body.

  Armstrong reached out for Nia.

  Nia raised her shotguns and pulled the triggers just as Armstrong covered the barrels with his hand. The discharge sounded like a muffled explosion.

  Blood shot out like spikes from Armstrong’s clutched fist. He tightly gripped the barrels of Nia’s cannons within his left palm, the length of the weapons held between his fingers.

  Blood dripped across the bottom of his wrist. He flashed teeth and swung his arm skyward, yanking the guns out of Nia’s grasp. The shotguns swirled into the starry sky and vanished.

  Armstrong immediately threw a punch at Nia, his massive fist trembling the ground as it slammed into the surface. Nia barely dodged.

  She rolled on the ground and retrieved her remaining grenade. In a split second, she flicked off the pin and hurled it at Armstrong.

  He caught it, and it detonated in his hand like fireworks, the force completely suppressed by his grip. He wagged his fingers as if he touched a steaming pot on a stove, and then growled, leaning toward Nia.

  Nia’s eyes bulged.

  The small woman darted forward and shot her foot towards his crotch—

  Armstrong grasped her foot in his right hand. Apparently, he was as fast as he was strong.

  Armstrong swung his right arm skyward, hurling Nia into the air.

  Reacting quickly, Nia outstretched a Baby Eagle in midair and sent bullets booming toward him as she soared back down to earth. The shots met their mark, blood shooting up like small volcanic eruptions on his shoulders and chest, but Armstrong did not so much as flinch.

  He met Nia’s falling frame with a shot from his left hand, sending her stumbling into the reeds.

  Nia kept a firm grip on her pistol as she crashed into the ground. She watched Armstrong rush toward her, his hideous, elongated arms flailing in the air as his boots thumped in the earth. Nia jumped to her feet and opened fire, bullet holes bursting in Armstrong’s flesh as he continued to swing at her.

 

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