“Move!” Cooper grunted. The medic was a lot stronger than he looked. 13 expertly dropped out of his view and out of the way.
The medic twisted and chopped his fist at Cooper’s knee, eliciting a growl of pain. Cooper lost his grip on the man and limped back, placing himself between the medic and 13. “Go, sir!” he barked. Admiral Bennet and the interrogation officer slipped past and exited the cell.
“Just you and me now,” grinned the medic.
“Drop the knife—you’re not getting out of this,” said 13 from behind Cooper.
The medic waved the blade through the air. “Come take it, bitch,” he snapped. “Reginald sends his regards.”
At the mention of that name Cooper’s world turned red. He charged, feeling the need rip out the man’s heart as the two of them tumbled to the floor.
A split second later, he felt himself flung backward as the assassin flexed his legs and launched Cooper across the cell. The medic stood and picked up the knife as Cooper got to his feet. He heard Bennet yell for help outside the cell.
His situational awareness kicked in, and Cooper knew that 13 covered the door, trapping the assassin inside the cell.
Cooper accessed his training. Unarmed combat versus an opponent armed with a knife was not recommended but not impossible to survive. He had to assume the man was at least as skilled as himself at close-quarters fighting. Cooper brought his hands up in a defensive posture, turned himself three-quarters sideways and spread his legs. He stayed on the balls of his feet and used his legs as coiled springs. From this position he could attack in any direction.
Charlie and Jax came to his aid behind him, but Cooper knew the cell was too small for anyone to help. He was the only one that was going to be able to stop the assassin.
His opponent must have figured that out at the same time. The man's face showed he also knew his own death to be inevitable.
Cooper made the first move: a feint with his right fist.
The assassin lunged with the knife, but pulled back before he cut Cooper. He’d covered the feint and left no opening for Cooper to exploit. Both combatants assessed each other and stepped back, each in the same stance.
Cooper's attack was an attempt to determine the skill of his attacker. The man was good—there was no doubting that now.
A vision of Brenda flashed in front of his eyes again. The man in front of him worked within the organization responsible for killing her. Skill and training fought against fury for control over Cooper's next move.
Brenda’s dead.
Despite his training, fury won.
Cooper flung himself with a silent snarl at the assassin. He ignored the lance of fire from his left arm as the assassin lashed out with the knife. The slash opened the side of his bicep—Cooper's mind registered the damage instantly but blocked the pain.
His left hand snaked around the assassin's right arm, effectively locking it in place and preventing him from using the knife any further. The medic grunted and flung out his left fist, clamping down hard on Cooper's throat.
The hand squeezed like a vice on his windpipe. Warning bells went off in Cooper's mind, alerting him to the fact that he only had a few moments before he lost consciousness.
Cooper moved his right leg to regain his balance and heard the familiar squeak of his knee brace. He dropped his right arm and grabbed the metal side support. He twisted in just the right spot and pulled hard. The metal snapped and Cooper impaled the jagged strip under the assassin’s chin.
The medic coughed a glob of blood into Cooper's face before his eyes rolled up, and his hand lost its stranglehold on Cooper's throat. Cooper roared and drove the jagged metal piece further into the twitching body. He slammed the assassin against the wall and began to beat the man’s head with his fists.
It took Jax, Charlie, and the Admiral to pull him off of the bloodied mess in the corner of the cell. Even as they wrestled him to the floor, Cooper screamed Brenda's name and tried to free himself. A few Marines appeared and pushed him to the floor.
Cooper relaxed and soon felt his heart rate return to normal. He kept his eyes on the medic’s body as Charlie, Jax, and the Marines helped him to his feet.
13 sat down against the wall and tucked her knees under her chin. She wrapped her good arm around her shins and hugged her legs, staring at the floor.
"I've never seen anything like that, son," said Bennet, adjusting his uniform, “well done." He stepped away to speak to 13.
"Jesus fucking Christ," muttered Charlie, "remind me never to piss you off…"
“Hooyah, LT," said Jax. “That’s how you get shit done. Sir.” His face split with a smile, and he put a hand on Cooper's shoulder. "You cool?"
Cooper swallowed, his throat as dry as the sand dunes the Marines had plucked them from after their escape from San Diego. He blinked and then nodded. “Hooyah.”
Cooper looked at 13. She held his gaze and offered a sad smile. "I told you," she said in a soft voice. "I'm as good as dead now. Even so, thank you," she said. "No one's ever done anything like that for me before." She turned to look at the interrogation officer.
"Whenever you're ready," he said. His pen hovered over a legal pad in a trembling hand.
She glanced at Cooper. “Do you swear you’ll get him—that you’ll stop at nothing to destroy Reginald?” She watched him intently.
Cooper stared at her for a moment. Brenda’s dead. “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.” He ignored the look of displeasure on Admiral Bennet’s face. The Brass probably wanted Reginald alive for questioning.
Brenda’s dead because of him. He’s a dead man.
She sighed and leaned back against the wall, her eyes locked on Cooper’s. 13 nodded, as if reading his thoughts and finding them satisfactory. Her eyes closed and she whispered: “I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
Admiral Bennet looked at the interrogation officer. He turned to face the Marines and SEALs crowding the entrance of the cell. “Everyone out. This is classified. Lieutenant, you stay.”
Cooper folded his arms and waited for the Marines and Charlie and Jax to file out of the cell. He listened as 13 told them of Reginald’s location—the Swiss Alps—his strengths, his weaknesses, his allies, who worked for him—everything Cooper needed to hunt the man down and bring him to justice.
Cooper clenched his jaw as he listened to 13. The only justice he’s going to get is a bullet between the eyes.
She continued to divulge information about Reginald and the Council. She spoke for twenty minutes straight. Her every word was recorded while the interrogation officer took notes.
Admiral Bennet frowned as the full scope of what they were facing became evident—Reginald was just the tip of the iceberg. “The Council is the real threat, then.”
13 nodded. “They have influence everywhere—including the White House. Both of them.”
She turned to Cooper. “Take down Reginald and he’ll lead you to the Council. Take them out and you’ll win the war and stop the Cleansing,” 13 said in a somber voice. She hugged her knees again and stopped talking.
Admiral Bennet stepped in front of Cooper, blocking his view of the girl. “You should go get cleaned up,” he said, indicating Cooper’s wounded arm. “You’re getting blood all over your uniform.”
He got the message—he was no longer needed or wanted. Cooper wiped the assassin’s blood from his face and saluted.
That was fine by him—he had a mission to plan.
The story continues with Firestorm.
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
THIS NOVEL WAS A whirlwind, from start to finish. I wrote the first draft during April of 2015. From start to finish it has taken 5 months, a new personal record. I could not have accomplished this feat with the incredible and never-flagging support and encouragement of my wife, Sara. She had some great insights that made it in to the book and was a tremendous help in the editing process (and by "help", I mean it would not be the same book without her) and never once failed to ask how I was doing at the end of a writing session.
I would also like to thank Rotag, my go-to beta reader. Without your valuable insights and encouragement, I could not have finished this story. Thanks also to the good folks at Survivalist Board Forums and Survival Monkey—you guys are great and your comments and suggestions provided the motivation needed to see this thing through to The End.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention Mike, who provided valuable insight and information on TyChem suits and SCBAs. With his help, I was able to up the realism in the book. Subject Matter Experts are an invaluable source of information for authors. Thanks Mike!
Thanks also to Flat-It, the creator of the Boycott font used in the cover design and for chapter headings inside the book. I’d also like to thank PublicDomainPictures (Pixabay) for the virus image used on the cover.
THANK YOU.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MARCUS GRADUATED FROM the University of Delaware and later earned his J.D. at the age of 26. Since then, he has at times been employed (or not) as: a highly over-qualified stock boy, cashier, department manager at a home furnishings store, assistant manager with a national arts and crafts chain, an acting store manager with the same chain, an unemployed handyman, husband, cook, groundskeeper, spider-killer extraordinaire, stay-at-home-dad, and writer.
He currently lives with his wife and children behind the cheddar curtain (he’s a Bears fan living in Wisconsin)—and he couldn’t be happier you’re taking the time to read this.
Discover more about Marcus on the FAQ page of his website:
http://marcus1776richards.wix.com/home#!faq/c4ks
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[Books by Marcus Richardson]
THE FUTURE HISTORY OF AMERICA
Book I: Alea Jacta Est
Book II: Sic Semper Tyrannis
Book III: Dux Bellorum
THE WILDFIRE SAGA
Book I: Apache Dawn
Book II: The Shift
Book III: Firestorm
Other books in the WILDFIRE series:
False Prey (Novella)
The Wildfire Bundle (Books I-III)
The Shift: Book II of the Wildfire Saga Page 43
