Danger Close

by Allen Manning

  His eyes bounced back and forth between Curtis and John. “Hardly a fair hunt, Stone.”

  John could see the fear in the man’s movements, but his words communicated an almost admirable bravado.

  Curtis picked the revolver up and opened the loading gate, dumping the spent shells and last few rounds. “Oh, I’m not here to participate. I’m only here as a spectator. I’d hate to take this opportunity away from my friend.”

  “You’ve got a better shot at surviving than you give the people that you've terrorized,” John said, still moving toward his quarry.

  Damien saw the pain in John’s gait. He eyed his opponent up and down, making a mental note of all the injuries he had suffered to this point. And then he smiled, his posture straightening.

  John rolled his sleeves up as he covered the last couple of meters between them. They stood toe to toe, Damien standing as tall as John. The frenzied chatter from the hyenas added another audience to the show. They rattled the bars of their enclosure, barking and growling, begging to be let loose.

  Damien looked over his shoulder at the animals. He used the glance to wind his body up for the sucker punch he launched. The right cross struck John across the jaw. Damien sank his stance and followed with a pair of alternating hooks to his opponent’s ribs. The blood drained from Damien’s face as John shook off the blows, wiping a hand down his cheek.

  A smile stretched across John’s face. Damien launched a hook for the head, but John’s forearm stopped the blow, sending a jolt of pain through his elbow and shoulder. John’s fist plowed through Damien’s defense, crunching cartilage.

  Tears streamed down his face as blood poured freely from his broken nose. Damien lashed out again. His fists found their marks as John did nothing to stop them. The first had little effect, but the body blow that followed struck solidly against one of the many cuts and wounds covering his opponent.

  John winced as the fist dug into the puncture wound underneath his ribcage, sending the bit of shrapnel just a bit deeper. Damien’s renewed hope dropped away once again as John’s expression switched from mild amusement to an emotionless mask.

  Before Damien could redouble his efforts, John buried a fist into his stomach. He fell to all fours, struggling to suck in a breath as he retched. John grabbed the back of his collar and pulled him up, snapping a short left hand into Damien’s jaw.

  As the brute walked him down, Damien whipped a sloppy hook. John swatted it away and drove a jab into his face, staggering him away. He fell onto his back, tripping on his own feet. He rolled over onto all fours and spit a glob of blood into the dirt. Two of his teeth mixed into the muddy mixture.

  Grabbing a handful of Damien’s hair, John pulled him upright. He latched onto John’s wrist struggling to his feet.

  “Alright, you win,” he said. “Just take me in.” Blood poured from his mouth and nose as another tooth fell free.

  John released his grip and shook his head. “No. I’m not here to lock you up. I’m here to make sure you can’t hurt anyone else.”

  Damien’s face twisted into a snarl as he let loose another flurry of blows. John swatted most away but allowed a few to sneak in, absorbing the ineffectual punches. He swiped the back of his hand across the beaten man’s face. Damien lost his footing, grabbing the bars of the hyena enclosure to prop himself up.

  He turned and pressed his back to the gate as John stalked him. The wild animals rushed the cage, tearing at his shirt and pants, yipping and chattering. Damien stepped away, trying to escape the nipping jaws, but John put a hand on his chest and shoved him against the bars again.

  “The Hyena,” John said, looking the man up and down. “You must be proud of that nickname. Makes you sound tough and ferocious, doesn’t it?”

  Damien’s legs buckled, but the pack of animals pulling at his clothes kept him upright. “Please, just take me in. Arrest me!”

  “Why, so they can lock you up until your high-power lawyers bribe the right people to let you out?” John’s face hardened. “There’s only one cage you belong in.”

  He brought his knee up and thrust his foot forward. The sole of John's boot crashed into Damien’s body, driving him backward into the gate with tremendous force.

  His ribs gave out with an audible crunch a split second before the metal latch holding the bars in place. Damien’s body reeled backward into the enclosure as the hyenas descended upon him, tearing away at his flesh and crushing his bones with powerful jaws as he screamed in terror and pain.

  John pressed a hand to one of the many wounds on his body and made his way to the exit. Curtis dropped the revolver and joined him.

  “Hey, should we be worried about those wild animals eating Blanchard alive?” he asked.

  “We’ll be fine,” John said. “They’ll be tearing chunks from his corpse long after we’ve left the building.”

  * * *

  “Thank you, thank you,” the skinny man said to John and Curtis as they exited the building. “I do not know what we can ever do to repay you.”

  John smiled. “Just get home to your families. All of you.”

  “Of course, if they want to cook up something to eat, I wouldn’t turn you down,” Curtis said.

  “It would be an honor,” the man said.

  John and Curtis helped them load up into the jeeps and trucks around the compound, not wanting them to walk home in their conditions.

  “I saved the best one for us,” Curtis said, waving to the vehicles driving past the gate.

  Looking over his shoulder, John’s eyes locked onto Blanchard’s monster truck. His smirk bled through the stoic front he tried to put on. It was gaudy, loud, and cartoonish. Perfect for an egotistical man like the Hyena.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Curtis said. “What’s eating at you? No pun intended, considering our friend downstairs feeding the zoo animals.”

  “The Alphas,” John said. “I expected them to be here with Blanchard, but there was no sign of them.”

  Curtis put a hand on John’s shoulder. “I get it, man. We need to make them pay for Parker’s condition.”

  “They’re dangerous. I don’t like the idea of them running free.”

  “Let’s get back to Travis and the others first,” Curtis said. “We can figure out the next step then.”

  John nodded and took the offered keys. “How did you do that with the whip back there?”

  “I wish I could tell you. It’s something I saw on TV one too many times as a kid. Figured, how hard could it be?” Curtis circled around and climbed up into the passenger seat.

  Taking the ladder up, John settled in behind the wheel. “Maybe it’s something you should keep in your toolbox.”

  Curtis chuckled, staring out the windshield into the smoky sky in the distance. “I guess I’ll have to rethink my loadout for future missions.”

  CHAPTER

  33

  A pair of SAMIL 20s sat along the side of the road, engines still rumbling as the remaining soldiers climbed on board. Millie helped to pull any sensitive materials and weapons from the shredded Mambas, passing them to one of the soldiers that had arrived to support the convoy and help clean up the battle.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Travis said, adjusting his sunglasses.

  Millie climbed onto the Mamba’s rear bumper to peer over the vehicle. A truck on monstrous tires rounded the bend. Mounted on a higher suspension, it absorbed every bump and hill in the road, the cab almost gliding to the convoy.

  Jimenez took his hat off and wiped a hand back, smoothing his sweaty hair. “It seems that Curtis and John have decided to roll up in style.”

  The monster truck wheeled around, stopping next to the Mamba where Travis stood. The driver’s door opened, and John climbed out.

  “Do I even want to know what the monthly payment is on this thing?” Travis asked.

  “It’s a rental,” John said.

  “More of a loaner,” Curtis added, circling around from the rear of the truck. “The own
er let us use it as long as we like.”

  “You always gotta show off, don’t you, Clarke?” Jimenez said.

  Millie joined the group, arms folded across her chest. “What happened to Blanchard and the Alpha assets?”

  John turned, lips pressed together. “The Alphas are gone. We don’t know where they went.”

  “But Blanchard decided to change his ways and start a small business making hyena food,” Curtis said. “More of a one-off, really.”

  Travis cocked his head to the side. “Are you saying he was eaten by hyenas? We should really get a full debriefing and exchange notes once we’re done here.”

  John looked at the soldiers packing the remaining crates into the pair of trucks. “The people still need those supplies we were hauling.”

  “We’ll load them all up into another convoy and make the drops,” Travis said. “But the problem is bigger than that.”

  “I know. Blanchard has people in the government on his side,” John said. “Even with him out of the picture, some other maniac could fill that power void and pick up where he left off. They need to be dealt with.”

  “Not by us,” Travis said. “We can’t have American forces cleaning up the South African government. That’s something they’ll have to do. We can serve in a consulting role, but that’s it. No more boots on the ground.”

  John nodded. “We still need to track down the Alpha assets. It’s too dangerous to leave those loose ends.”

  Travis adjusted his collar. “Millie has a lead on their chain of command. I know a guy that can help us on that end.”

  “Good.” John rolled his sleeves down and rubbed a thumb hard along the palm of his right hand. “Just let me know when we roll out.”

  “You and Clarke need some downtime first,” Travis said. “We’ll have to make a stop once we land in the States.”

  John’s brow furrowed.

  “It’s a good thing,” Travis said. “Just got word that Parker is awake now. Looks like he’s going to make a full recovery.”

  CHAPTER

  34

  St. Augustine, Florida

  John hesitated at the door. He stared at the number placard on the wall, clutching the baseball cap in his hands. Facing the enemy was something he had grown accustomed to over the years. Losing friends on the battlefield was always hard, but losing civilian friends and family caught in the crossfire was something that John never expected to deal with.

  Tracking down Blanchard and the assassins, he had to put the thoughts of Parker, Jennifer, and Emily out of his mind. Like a machine performing a given task. But all the guilt and fear of putting them in harm's way in his quest to take out The Order flooded back as he stood in the hallway of the hospital.

  Taking a deep breath, John let the air out through his nose in a long, slow exhale. He stepped into the room, knocking on the wall next to the door frame. Parker had a funny look on his face as he looked down at the sandwich in his hand.

  He continued chewing for a second before looking up at John. His eyes lit up, and he swallowed the food in his mouth.

  “John!” A look of concern fell over his face as his eyes darted up and down. “You look terrible.”

  John laughed. “I’m glad you’re up and about. You look well.”

  “Yeah, I guess I don’t look so bad for a guy that just woke up from a medically-induced coma,” Parker said. “You look like you forgot the sunscreen while hanging out at the beach. Why do you look like a lobster?”

  “Doc says Curtis and I suffered first and second degree burns from the fires,” John said looking at his arms. “Curtis more so, considering he jumped through the flames like a madman.”

  “Sounds like something he would do. That guy’s a man of action.” Parker took another bite of the sandwich, scrunching up his face as he chewed, lifting the bread to look inside.

  He raised his eyebrows and swallowed. “Wait, what fires?”

  “I take it you didn’t get a chance to talk to Travis before I arrived.” John took the seat next to Parker’s bed. “Do you remember what happened earlier this week? Why you were in the hospital?”

  “I gotta be honest, I don’t know much. But the doctors told me that I had been shot,” Parker said. “The last thing I remember is you tackling me. And then automatic gunfire. The rest is sort of a blank.”

  “The men who attacked us were connected to The Order,” John said. “They were working for Damien Blanchard.”

  “I knew that weasel Blanchard was going to be trouble,” Parker said. “So, is that it? You took care of them?”

  John clasped his fingers together, resting his forearms on his knees. “Millie helped us track Damien and the assassins to South Africa. We went there to shut his whole operation down for good. But the men who shot you were gone by the time I got my hands on Blanchard.”

  “Millie? You guys brought the Hard Core back together?” Parker asked, sitting up in his bed. “Did Ty do anything crazy this time around?”

  John chuckled. “It was just Millie. I don’t know where Ty is these days. I’ll have to tell you all about it over a beer when you get out of here.”

  “Knock knock,” Jennifer Colt said, rapping her knuckles on the opened door. “Is this a good time to visit?”

  “Uncle John!” Emily shouted, jumping into his lap.

  Jennifer set a bag on the tray over Parker’s legs and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “How are you doing? We heard you were awake and I figure you would need a care package.”

  “I’m doing fine,” Parker said, checking the bag.

  His eyes lit up as he pulled out a handheld game system and his cell phone. He fished out the chargers, looking for a place to plug them in. Jennifer helped out as Emily hopped down and stood next to his bed.

  “How’s the food?” she asked.

  “Not bad,” Parker said. “Not good either. I can’t tell.”

  “Can I have your Jello?”

  John rubbed his hand over her head as he smiled. Emily and Parker continued negotiations for the dessert as John gave Jennifer a hug.

  “How are you holding up?” Jennifer asked.

  “Not bad. Is Emily staying out of trouble?”

  “Of course not,” she said.

  John laughed. “I’ve got to go now. Let me know if you two need anything.”

  “You’ve already done so much for us, John.”

  He smiled and nodded. “Take care, Parker.”

  Epilogue

  Miami, Florida

  The sounds of children at play mingled with the grinding of car tires on gravel as Travis pulled into the unfinished driveway. The breeze slipped through the opened windows, carrying the scent of grilling meats from a backyard party further down the street.

  “This is it,” Travis said, shutting off the engine and slipping his finger through the ring of the keys.

  John undid the seatbelt and climbed out, stretching his shoulders and back as he took in another breath, enjoying the smells of the neighborhood barbecue. Travis dropped the keys into the pocket of his slacks and pushed the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows.

  “Does he know we were coming by?” John asked, adjusting the holstered 1911 inside the waistband, just behind his hip.

  “Yeah,” Travis said, his expression communicating otherwise. “I’m pretty sure he knows.”

  “What’s his connection to all of this again?”

  “He and I had a few run-ins with Russians back in the day,” Travis said. “He’s the kind of guy to hold a grudge, so I know he's got some pretty in-depth files on the major players that could help us out.”

  “You’ve worked with him before?” John asked. “Were you partners in Vice?”

  Travis scrunched his face. “You could say that, I guess. He was a homicide detective when we first crossed paths.”

  “And what does he do now?”

  “Probably sit in a lawn chair and drink cheap beer,” Travis said, walking toward an older man seated in a lawn chair, holding
a can of off-brand beer.

  “Travis Chambers,” the man said. “I thought you were dead.”

  “We spoke on the phone yesterday.”

  “I meant I hoped you were dead.” The older man crushed the can in his fist and tossed it into a pile of weather-worn bottles and cans of various beer brands.

  He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt and walked over to Travis. John’s body tensed, uneasy about the encounter. The two men exchanged hearty handshakes and a hug. Travis held his friend out at arm's length.

  “Man I forgot how big you were.” Travis squeezed one of the man’s biceps.

  He turned to John. “He looks like your drunk uncle.”

  The man wiped a hand over his mouth. “While you’re buttering me up, what is it I can do for you again?”

  “Look, I’m not going to tap dance around the issue,” Travis said. “We’ve got some troubles, and I’m hoping you can help us uncover some more information about the players we’re dealing with.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Russians.”

  The older man’s eyes narrowed. The muscles in his jaw worked like he was chewing on the words he wanted to say. “I’m in.”

  “Hey, man, you don’t need to dust off your gear,” Travis said. “We just need you to point us in the right direction.”

  “I’ve been living and breathing this stuff for a while. How bad do you want this intel?”

  Travis and John looked at each other. Travis saw the look in his eye and just shrugged. “Your call.”

  John held his hand out. “Welcome to the team.”

  The man’s handshake was firm as he locked grips.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name. I’m John Stone.”

  “Pleasure. Name’s Scott Maverick.”