Cursed Blessing

by J. M. LeDuc

  CHAPTER 21

  After he’d told Chloe to leave her house and meet him, Brent thought of the sound of her voice and how it reminded him what a fool he’d been. Not that he needed much reminding, between his recent nightmares and dreams. He craved Chloe. For now, her voice resonating in his ear would have to do. He rested briefly before heading to their rendezvous at The Loft.

  Brent looked at the supplies he’d dumped onto the pavement. A change of clothes, a thermal space blanket, first aid kit and a large utility knife, which Chloe used to call his Rambo knife. He checked each item before he placed it into his backpack in such a way that he could find and get to them easily.

  He held the knife, sliding it out of its sheath before placing it in the pack. A serrated blade that could cut through anything, wood, metal, even bone if it had to, was on one side. A smooth blade so sharp he could shave with it was on the other side. He slid it down his forearm, watching the hair fall to the ground as the blade sliced through it like butter. Brent unscrewed the handle that hid a small compartment. Inside was an ampoule of snake venom, a small hypodermic needle and a suture kit. He dumped the contents into the palm of his hand, looked them over and replaced them before he screwed the handle back on. The cap of the handle doubled as a compass. It had come in handy when he had to get off that mountain.

  Satisfied with its condition, Brent slid the knife back into its sheath and then thought twice about putting it into the backpack. Instead, he reached around his back and stuck it into the waistband of his jeans, pulling his shirt down over the handle. Feeling the knife against his backside brought back old, familiar emotions; ones he hadn’t expected to feel again.

  A quick glance at his watch told him he didn’t have much time to get to The Loft. He didn’t want Chloe there by herself, so he hurriedly placed the remaining items into the backpack and pulled it on. Before he started the six-mile run, he checked the alley once more, making certain that James was nowhere to be seen. With no James in sight, Brent ran across the street, jumped over the fence that bordered that section of the beach and then disappeared into the darkness of the mangroves and sand. Running along the beach would take longer and be more taxing, but he knew it was the smartest move.

  As he got closer to where Third Avenue dissected the beach, Brent left the sand to run on the asphalt. Staying out of sight of any traffic, he waited until there was no activity. Quickly, he sprinted across Beach Road and down the alley behind The Loft. When he didn’t see Chloe’s car, he was suddenly worried and thought about calling her again. The ringing of her phone could draw unneeded attention to her, so he decided against it. He ditched his backpack in the bushes then climbed the rickety, wooden stairs to the third floor.

  Although it was very late or very early, it was 3:40 a.m., Brent found that, like always, The Loft, a huge hangout for insomniacs and university students pulling all-nighters, was open. He opened the screen door, which led to the kitchen and stepped inside.

  Benny, the owner, turned when he heard the door. A big friendly smile came onto his face. He walked over to Brent, arms opened wide, wrapped them around Brent in a strong bear hug and kissed Brent on both cheeks. In a thick Italian accent, he said, “Ay, Brent, it’s been too long, my friend. Nice to see you.”

  “It has been too long,” Brent replied. “Have you seen—?”

  “You lady love? She’s inside waiting for you at you favorite table.”

  The only table on this floor, Brent thought.

  “Ay, Brent, it’s none of my business, but you two okay?”

  “It’s a long story, Benny, I—”

  “Ay, I understand. If you need anything, you let me know, okay? Now, go, go, I bring you two a hot cappuccino.”

  “Thanks, Benito, you’re a good friend.”

  Brent pushed his way through the kitchen’s double doors into the part café, part college bookstore. To his right he saw Chloe, sitting, waiting. He would later swear that his heart skipped a beat in that moment. She’s even more beautiful than I remembered, he thought. Standing there a moment, he drank it all in. She’d cut her long, thick, dark brown hair, but it made her even prettier. She was the only woman he knew who could wear a t-shirt and jeans and no makeup and make all heads turn when she entered a room.

  The sound of doors swinging open and the breeze they created caused Chloe to turn. Her eyes lit up when she first saw him. When he came closer, her expression changed to one of concern.

  He’s never been a fashion plate, she told herself. But he looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.

  She stood up to say hello. Not sure whether to extend her hand, give him a hug or plant a full-lipped kiss on him, she decided to wait and follow his lead.

  His eyes darted around the room as he walked toward Chloe, expecting to see someone he knew. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her in close and kissed her passionately. “God, I’ve missed you,” he whispered when the kiss finally ended.

  “Me too,” was all she could say as she held on for dear life. She was afraid he’d disappear if she let go.

  Her demeanor suddenly changed when she remembered the phone call that had brought them together again. Looking into his bloodshot eyes and softly moving his long hair away from his face, she asked, “Brent, are you okay? Is everything all right?”

  Brent let go of his grip on her. “Chloe, please sit,” he said, and he looked around the room once more.

  “Brent, you’re scaring me again. What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know where to start,” he said. Looking into her eyes and thinking out loud, he said, “My God, you’re beautiful. I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been.”

  Chloe’s face turned red. “Brent, I—”

  “Please don’t say anything right now, Chloe.” Brent reached across the table and held both of her hands in his. “Just listen…” Over the next hour-and-a-half and two cappuccinos, Brent told Chloe everything that had happened over the past four days. She sat, hands in his, amazed and frightened about what had taken place. When it seemed he had finished, she spoke.

  “That’s the most incredible story I’ve ever heard,” she said.

  “Too bad it’s not a story,” he replied.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We? Oh no, I won’t get you involved in this any more than I already have. I want you to get in your car—car? Chloe, where’s your car?”

  “First of all, I’m not going anywhere, so don’t even think I’m leaving you.”

  “Chloe, please. I want you to drive north, until you cross the state border, then hide out in a small motel until I call you.”

  She ignored that and continued. “And second, my car is in the alley behind the building. I bought a hybrid.”

  He smiled. “Hybrid, huh, I knew you’d see it my way.”

  “Kiss my butt,” she said sarcastically.

  “Later. Right now, we need to get you out of here.”

  “Brent, I’m in this to the end. I’m not going anywhere unless you go with me. Besides, you’ll need my help moving Lucille.”

  He was about to argue when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the front door open. Thomas and James walked in.

  Brent looked at Chloe and said, “Get down on your knees and crawl into the kitchen, now!” With that, he dropped to the floor and pulled Chloe off her chair onto the floor with him. Benny walked nonchalantly over to them when he saw them crouching on the floor and dropped onto his knees.

  “Are you looking for something? You lose a contact or something?”

  “Benny, the two men who just walked in are looking for us. They have guns they intend to use.”

  Benny thought for a moment. “Okay, you two get outta here and I’ll stall the men.”

  “Benny, I owe you big time. I’m sorry about this.”

  “Whatsa this? It’s just like Palermo, Si
cily, when I was teenager. Now get moving and take care of your belladonna, capisci?”

  “I understand,” Brent said. “Thank you, my friend.”

  He kissed Benito on both cheeks and signaled Chloe with a nod of his head to start crawling toward the kitchen. Once there and out of view of the swinging doors, they stood up and ran to the back door and down the stairs to the alley. The sun was starting to come up. Brent knew they’d have to act fast. He reached into the bushes, pulled out his backpack as Chloe got into the driver’s seat. Brent opened the passenger door and tossed his pack into the back seat. He leaned over and kissed Chloe briefly.

  “I have an idea how we can slow them up. Drive the car across the street and meet me behind Amelio’s—the pizza place.”

  “Brent, please just get in.”

  “I’ll be fine. If I’m not there in ten minutes, go to our spot on the beach. I’ll meet you there. I love you,” he said. He kissed her once more, shut the door and disappeared behind the side of the building.

  CHAPTER 22

  As Chloe watched Brent disappear, she suddenly felt very alone. She wanted to yell out to him, but she knew better. The knot in her stomach told her she may never see him again, not a feeling she wanted to live with. Knowing she had to trust his instinct, she drove out of the alley, across Third Avenue and in back of Amelio’s. She cut her engine and shut off the lights. She checked the clock on her dash. It read 5:45 a.m. She waited nervously for Brent to arrive.

  Brent crept along the side of building until he came to the front corner of The Loft. He peered around and spotted the black Hummer parked directly in front. He heard Benny talking to Thomas, telling him that he might have seen the man in the picture Thomas flashed but not the girl. He thought the man had left an hour or two earlier. Thomas asked if it was okay to ask the others in the place if they’d seen either one of them. Benny said he didn’t mind and he’d get them a cup of coffee. In order to succeed, Brent knew he’d have to move fast. He reached for his knife and then waited for the exact moment to strike.

  The group stood in a plane hangar, their makeshift classroom. “If you encounter the enemy in their territory, it’s always better to retreat. A dead hero is not a hero, he’s just dead.”

  Someone in the group laughed at the statement. Seven snapped his head around in the direction of the snicker.

  “Corporal, you in the tank top and shorts. Step forward.”

  “Who, me?”

  “Yeah, you. What’s your name?”

  “John.”

  “John, you think that was funny?”

  John looked at the others in the group. Not wanting to look weak, he looked back at Seven and said, “Kinda, yeah.”

  Seven walked a few steps away from the group. Without turning to look in their direction, he asked, “Whose territory are we in right now, John?”

  “Yours, I guess,” he said with a sly smile.

  “So, if I were the prey, would you retreat or attack?”

  John was silent. Whatever answer he gave, he knew he might be walking into a trap. “Come on, ain’t that hard an answer. How about I help you out?” Seven said.

  Turning to look at the group, Seven said, “Let’s see, you’re about six-foot-three and about 230 pounds, with maybe eleven percent body fat. That right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” John answered.

  “And I’m five-foot-six and about 165 pounds. I’m carrying a little more around the gut than I need. That right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.” John had started to get a little ticked off with this line of questioning. He thought the others were probably laughing, even though they didn’t make a sound. Seven swiveled around, faced away from the group and walked away as he continued, “So, what’s the big deal? A big guy like you, would you attack or retreat?”

  “Attack,” John answered with an edge in his voice. Seven was now about fifteen feet away from John. He turned once more to face him. He could see that John was losing his cool—his perspective. Seven spit a good-sized wad of tobacco across the room. It landed on John’s boot. The Corporal looked down at his boot and looked back up at Seven with a sneer. John emitted a rumbling grunt from his closed mouth.

  Seven took a step closer to him and smirked. “That’s what I thought,” he said, “all those muscles are good for is posing. You’re no soldier, you’re just a useless piece of s---“

  John had taken all he was going to. He was sure that the others were now laughing at him. There was no way he was going to let this little peckerwood get away with talking to him like that. With a deep, primal scream that seemed to begin in his bowels, he rushed Seven at full speed.

  With a lightning hand movement no one saw coming, Seven pulled his knife from its sheath and threw it the length of the plane hangar. The knife almost floated in the air, spinning in its movement like a boomerang, and then, as if it were slicing butter, cut through a thick rope attached to the ceiling. In an instant, the wing of a plane in for repair flew down and hit the corporal square in the back of his head. He dropped like a rock, out cold before he hit the concrete floor. As Seven walked past him to retrieve his knife, he kept talking.

  “Never attack in someone else’s territory, never attack out of anger and never attack head on.” He picked up his knife, inspected it, placed it back in its sheath and faced the three who were conscious. “Now, if you encounter prey in territory you’re familiar with and if you have the element of surprise on your side, attack. It’s actually safer in those circumstances than to retreat.” Seven spit tobacco juice on the floor of the hangar. “If you retreat, you may find yourself encountering the same prey later when you no longer have the advantage. You have to make the most of any advantages you get because you won’t get many.” Walking past them, he continued, “Bathroom break, take ten, and drag that carcass out of my classroom. When he comes to, tell him his stuff will be waiting for him in the main office. He’s out of the squad.”

  Brent checked the street in front of The Loft one more time. The advantage was his for the moment. “It’s as secure as it’s going to get”, he said to himself. To his left, he saw the traffic light turn green. He readied himself to make his move. He tucked in behind the last car, quickly maneuvering to the far side. As the car passed by the Hummer, he crouched low and scampered to its far side. With a hard, fast thrust, Brent brought the blade forward, cutting through the sidewall of the front tire. He went to the back tire and did the same thing. He placed the knife back in its sheath and looked around the rear of the Hummer into the plate glass window of The Loft where he saw Benny drinking coffee and talking to Thomas and James. Brent looked back at the intersection and waited for the light to turn green again. When it did, he tucked in behind the last vehicle and ran across the street and down the length of Third Avenue.

  He didn’t slow down as he turned into the alley that ran in back of Amelio’s. He resisted the temptation to turn around to see if he was being followed. He didn’t stop running until he stood next to Chloe’s car. Chloe saw Brent through her rearview mirror. She turned the key in the ignition and unlocked the doors. With one smooth movement, Brent slid into the passenger seat, shut the door behind him and leaned forward to plant a kiss on Chloe’s lips before she could say anything.

  “It’s been twelve minutes,” he said as he finally let her go. “You should have left two minutes ago.”

  “Shut up,” Chloe said. “If you ever do that to me again, I swear I—”

  “Oooh, I love it when you’re authoritative,” Brent interrupted, changing the mood. “Let’s get out of here. Drive to our spot along the coastal road. We can talk safely there.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Thomas and James finished the coffee Benny brought them and completed the search of The Loft.

  “I don’t get it,” Thomas said. “I know that Ferric’s Intel is the most advanced in the world, yet, everywhere we go, it’
s a dead end. How’s this guy staying one step ahead of us? He’s only a stinking librarian.”

  He looked out the front window and saw a police cruiser pulling up in back of the Hummer. “Great, this is all we need.”

  They walked outside and Thomas apologized for having parked illegally. “Officer, I’m so sorry. My friend and I just ran in to get a cup of coffee and ended up running into an old friend. I’ll move the car right away.”

  The officer, in the process of writing a traffic ticket, didn’t look up when Thomas spoke to him. “I don’t think you will,” is all he said.

  “Officer, again, I apologize, and we’ll be leaving right now. You can watch us leave, if you’d like.”

  “Don’t think so.”

  Thomas was getting mad. He walked around the vehicle to where the police officer stood. “Look, I said I was sorry, so what’s your problem?”

  The officer tore off the ticket from his pad. Handing it to Thomas, he said, “I don’t have a problem, but you do.”

  He gestured with his eyes toward the wheels then he walked back to his cruiser. Thomas looked to where the officer had gestured. “I can’t believe it!” he yelled. “He was here. When I catch him, I swear I will kill him, but not until I make him watch me torture and kill his little girlfriend.”

  He made a fist with his right hand and hit the side of the car hard enough to leave a small dent.

  “James,” he yelled. “Get your stupid self over here.”

  James came running from the other side of the car. “Yeah, boss?”

  “Give me your phone, you idiot,” Thomas screamed.

  James looked down at the two flat tires and said, “What happened to the wheels?”

  “Are you stupid?” Thomas yelled. “That jerk we’ve been chasing was here. When I catch him, he’s going to beg me to kill him.” Thomas snatched the phone from James’ hand and dialed information.