by Jake Bible
Billy chewed on his lower lip until it began to bleed.
“Jesus, Billy!” Heather said, stepping forward and wiping the blood away with her sleeve. “Don’t you feel that?”
“The whole point is not to feel, Heather,” Billy laughed, but it sounded flat and fake to both their ears.
***
“Who do we have in Sin Circle?” Mr. Stone asked Reginald.
“There’s always an HAV with at least two Shock troops and six to twelve regulars on stand by,” Agent Turner answered from behind the wheel of the mag-skiff. “They’d be ready in less than a minute if called.”
“I didn’t ask you,” Mr. Stone grunted. “Reginald?”
“There’s always an HAV with at least two Shock troops and six to twelve regulars on stand by,” Reginald parroted from the back seat. “They’d be ready in less than a minute if called.”
Mr. Stone smiled. “Thank you, Reginald.”
“Of course, Mr. Stone.”
“American Unit or Special Branch?” Mr. Stone asked.
“LOMSD, Mr. Stone,” Agent Turner answered cautiously. “Sin Circle is a hot spot for the trafficking of sensitive information and we must be ready to act when needed.”
Mr. Stone turned in the passenger seat and appraised Turner. “You ever work Sin Circle?”
“It was my second assignment once I became an agent,” Turner answered proudly. “Stopped three sex slave trafficking rings and plugged a major information leak.”
“Well, Reginald, I think Agent Turner has more to offer than first thought,” Mr. Stone said. “Maybe he should take point?”
“That sounds like a very good idea, Mr. Stone,” Reginald grinned.
“Point? But, we’re to go to the American base!” Agent Turner exclaimed. “That was a direct order!”
“We’re taking a bit of a detour. It’s really part of the same mission,” Mr. Stone grinned. “You don’t have a problem with that do you, Turner?”
Reginald leaned in close to Agent Turner’s ear. “Right, Agent Turner? You don’t have a problem with that?” he said menacingly.
“No. No problem,” Agent Turner said, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.
***
Brian Lisbon hated being a Ghost. He knew it was just cowardice on his part, but from the moment he had been activated, he had lived in a state of anxiety. It was that anxiety that kept him from getting an assignment. The American brass wouldn’t even contact him anymore. Every communiqué he put out there was ignored. His existence was relegated to a constant feeling of inadequacy.
So, Brian found himself alone in Hailey Park in the middle of the night. He liked the park, it was close to the river, had some nice walking paths and near a café he liked to sit at and people watch. But, Brian couldn’t remember ever seeing any people in the park and the harder he concentrated the more confused he became. He tried to mentally backtrack how he got to the park, how he ever got to the park and he couldn’t even picture the route. All he knew was the grass and the river and the way the lamps reflected off the water. Brian truly questioned his sanity.
He never noticed the footfalls behind him. And when he felt the prick and heard the hiss of the injector he found himself conflicted. Conflicted over the danger he knew he was in and the relief he felt as the last bit of consciousness slipped away, knowing that if he wasn’t killed, he was at least going to be able to rest.
***
“Time to go,” Heather said tapping Melissa and Beth on the shoulders as she passed.
Melissa stood up, then froze as Billy came out of the men’s room.
“Hey, Mel,” Billy said quietly.
Melissa stared at him for a moment then turned on Heather. “Activate me,” she snarled.
Heather rolled her eyes. “No, Mel, I’m not going to activate you just so you can kill Billy.”
Melissa picked up her pint glass and flung it towards Billy’s head. The man easily dodged it, letting the glass shatter behind him on the men’s room door.
“I’m going to fucking kill him anyway!” Melissa screamed.
“It wasn’t my fault, Mel,” Billy said moving towards her.
“Don’t you fucking dare, you mother fucking scabhead junkie piece of shit!” Melissa yelled. “Don’t fucking talk to me!”
She stomped past Heather and Beth towards the door, but was immediately blocked by Shift.
“Hey now, where you going, pretty thing?” Shift said. “What’s the hurry? The man just wants to talk.”
Melissa took a couple steps back, more from the smell than from what Shift said.
“Leave her alone, Shift,” Billy said. “Let her leave if she wants.”
“Well, Billy, as much as I’d like to accommodate one of my best customers,” Shift said as Billy looked away in shame. “I think the girl should stay for a bit. Maybe you all should stay for a bit.”
Heather looked from Shift to Billy, then to the bartender and back to Shift. She glanced around the pub and noticed that the few people who had been in earlier had already cleared out. “How long do we have?” Heather asked Billy.
Billy shook his head. “I don’t know. My skills aren’t the sharpest lately.”
“How about you give it a fucking try!” Heather snapped.
Billy sighed and knelt to the ground, placing both palms flat on the pub floor. He closed his eyes and turned his head this way and that, then his eyes shot open. “Maybe a minute! We’ve got an HAV heading our way!”
“Okay, girls! Time to leave!” Heather shouted.
“I can’t let you do that,” Shift said menacingly, a scatter gun in his hands. “I can’t take you all, but I will put some holes in a couple of you. Trust me, where this shot has been, if you survive the blast you won’t survive the infection.”
Heather slowly reached into her pocket and Shift jerked the scatter gun towards her. “Calm down now,” Heather soothed. “Just pulling out some chits. Maybe we can work a deal.” Heather opened her palm to reveal a small cube of BC.
“Hey,” Shift said confused. “That ain’t chits.”
“No,” Heather grinned. “It’s not.” The BC melted and morphed into the familiar shape of microfilament, shooting out from Heather’s palm and wrapping itself around Shift’s neck. The man jerked and convulsed as Heather tossed the other end of the microfilament up and around the ceiling fan that lazily spun above the pub. Shift kicked out, his finger pulling the trigger on the scatter gun and a deafening roar filled the pub. Beth cried out and fell to the ground, Mel instantly at her side.
“It’s not bad! We can fix it on the go!” Melissa shouted.
“I got her!” Billy said, lifting Beth in his arms.
The sound of a shell being pumped into a shotgun chamber made Melissa look up to see the bartender pointing a 20 gauge at them.
“Get him down from there!” the bartender ordered.
Melissa kicked out, snagging a bar stool with her foot, then flinging it into the bartender’s face. He instinctively ducked, giving Melissa time to vault the bar, her right foot catching the man in the temple. An audible crunch could be heard and the bartender dropped dead on the spot. She hopped back over the bar and ran for the door with the others.
Heather pushed the door open and came to a halt as she watched an HAV roll to a stop in front of the pub. “Back inside now!”
***
“Um, hello?” Brian called out from under the canvas hood covering his head. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
He struggled against the restraints that tied his wrists to the arms of the chair he was seated in, but only succeeded in straining his muscles without gaining a single bit of freedom. He relaxed for a moment and placed his fingertips firmly against the chair.
“Don’t bother,” a woman’s voice said. “There isn’t a scrap of BC in this room. All wood, all the time. Water?”
“Where am I?” Brian asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” the woman responded. “Do you want some water or not?”
“What do you want with me?” Brian felt a hard slap upside his head. “Hey! What the hell?”
“Just answer the question, Brian,” the woman pressed. “Would you like some water?”
“Yes, please,” Brian answered, his voice shaking with fear.
“Excellent,” the woman said just before a violent blast of water hit Brian in the face.
Brian tried to scream, but his mouth just filled with water and he ended up gagging and struggling for breath. Five minutes seemed like an eternity as the water slammed against him. And then it was gone.
“Do you see anything?” the woman asked.
“Please, don’t do that again,” Brian pleaded.
“Shut up,” the woman ordered. “Don’t whine. Just tell me what you see.”
Brian waited in silence, snot dripping down his face, smearing onto the canvas as it rubbed against his skin. “Um, I can’t see anything…”
“No? Let’s try this again,” the woman said. “One more time, and if that doesn’t work we’ll move on to something else.”
Brian shuddered at the thought of something else, but that thought was pushed from his mind as the water was turned on him once again.
***
Mr. Stone’s cold hard eyes moved from Shock troop to Shock troop, trooper to trooper, as they stood at the back of the Heavy Assault Vehicle (HAV). “I want them alive if possible, especially the Ghost. Understand?”
All nodded.
“Good. With that said, if you blow them from the face of the Earth I won’t hold it against you.”
One of the troopers gave a short laugh and Mr. Stone closed on him quickly. “None of this is funny, trooper!” Mr. Stone yelled. “That Ghost in there will kill you faster than you can shoot your little dick load! You got me?”
“Yes, sir,” the trooper answered. “Sorry, sir.”
Mr. Stone nodded to Reginald and Reginald nodded to Agent Turner, who hit the ramp release, opening the entire back end of the massive vehicle.
“You ready for this, Agent Turner?” Reginald asked, gripping the agent’s shoulder.
“Of course,” Agent Turner said, not sounding ready in the slightest.
“Oh, and Shock troops? Don’t forget to not let the bitch touch you!” Mr. Stone cautioned. “She can control BC and will rip it from your skin before you get your first shot off!” Mr. Stone hefted his AR75 BC assault rifle. “After you, Agent Turner.”
***
“Still nothing, Bri?” the woman’s voice barked. “Come on, you’re going to have to do better.”
Brian gasped for air, his face swollen and bruised from the onslaught of water. “Please… Who are you? Why am I here?”
“You’re always here, stupid,” the woman answered.
Brian screamed as pain erupted from his left hand. “WHAT THE HELL?”
“That was your pinky finger,” the woman said. “Thought you should know since it’s hard to tell which one you lose once they start coming off.”
“You cut off my pinky? You fucking bitch!” Brian screamed. “You mother fucking bitch!”
Brian’s head snapped back and he felt a wave of nausea. Instantly he was in two worlds. One strapped to a chair while being tortured. The other was looking through someone else’s eyes, someone being carried. Through a pub? Was that a body hanging from a fan?
“What was that? Contact?” the woman asked, talking more to herself than to Brian. “I’m impressed, Brian. I thought I’d have to take more off.”
Brian felt his head firmly grasped between two hands.
“Tell me what you see,” the woman snarled. “Be specific. The more details you give the less, um, coaxing from me.”
***
“How bad are your skills?” Heather asked Billy. “Can you make us a hole?”
“Not in this shithole!” Billy yelled setting Beth down at the far end of the bar. “There isn’t enough BC to work with in this floor.”
“Then fucking blow a hole, Heather!” Melissa shouted. “Punch right through the floor and get us out of here!”
“I could bring the entire building down!” Heather responded grabbing up all available BC she could find and piling it close to her. “You still afraid of guns, Billy?”
“You know me,” he grinned. “I’m all about the vehicles, not about the boomsticks. All go, no blow.”
“Oh, I think you know about the blow,” Melissa hissed.
Billy frowned, but didn’t respond as he knelt by Beth and let two drops of BC fall onto her wounds. Instantly they split into a million microscopic sutures and began to repair the damage done by the shotgun, finding the shot and pushing it out of the wound before sewing the skin together.
Heather looked around in a panic. If it was just her, she wouldn’t have had problem; she could take the LOMSD fucks. But with Beth and Melissa to take care of and Billy an unreliable wild card, she knew she’d get distracted and end up with her brains splattered across the bar. Or worse, the girls’ brains splattered across the bar.
“Okay. I have a shitty idea that none of you will like,” she shouted, the sound of biochrome boots outside the pub quite audible. “Everyone in the crapper!”
“This isn’t like Naples, is it?” Billy asked, not bothering to disguise the disgust on his face.
“’Fraid so, Billy.”
“Fuck!” Billy cursed. “Hold on.” Billy dashed to Shift’s corpse and tore open his trouser leg, ripping the scabs off of the dead man’s calf and stuffing them in his pockets. “I can’t kick right now. That wouldn’t be good for anyone.”
The pub door exploded inward and Melissa screamed.
“GO!” Heather cried looking down at the BC gathered at her feet. Billy scooped up Beth again and ran to the men’s room.
“Come on!” he screamed at Melissa.
Melissa hesitated, looking at Heather. “I can help!” she shouted. “Just activate me!”
“Get in that crapper dammit!” Heather screamed, not waiting to see if Melissa followed her orders as she melted the BC she’d gathered into two ReBault mini-guns, one on each forearm. Long, wide braces slipped up and over her shoulders, joining in the back to support the weight of the heavy caliber weapons and take some of the load off of her already fatigued body. Heather took one look behind her to make sure everyone was clear before she opened up on the fools coming through the front door.
***
Mr. Stone and Reginald both hit the street, belly down as the front of the pub, the two Shock troops, and Agent Turner, were ripped apart by 7.62mm BC bullets.
“He lasted longer than I thought,” Reginald said, shouting over the gunfire. “I figured you would have slit his throat and tossed him out of the skiff first.”
“Too much paperwork,” Mr. Stone yelled back. “Plus, now I can shove Turner’s corpse in Gein’s face. He should have listened to me.”
“They never do, Mr. Stone. They never do.”
Reginald settled the butt of the rifle against his shoulder and returned fire into the pub, hoping his bullets would find their mark. Mr. Stone flipped up his scope’s cap, toggled to infrared and tried to find his target. It wasn’t very hard since the mini-guns on Heather’s forearms put out some intense heat.
“Thirteen degrees right of the door frame,” Mr. Stone called out as the rest of the LOMSD troopers took a knee, brought up their rifles and began to fire.
***
As soon as the return fire started whizzing past Heather’s head, she dumped the heavy mini-guns and tucked tail, running full out towards the men’s room. She cranked up her BC sensitivity as high as it could go without compromising her mind’s stability and began dodging, diving and twisting her body out of the way of the bullets coming at her. To an outsider it would have looked like she was having a running seizure, but to a Ghost it was pure artistry.
But all the athleticism and training in the world didn’t matter if you couldn’t dodge that last bullet.
Heather burst through the men’s room
door just as that final bullet ripped through the case, tore into her back and burst through her chest, spraying blood across the stalls.
“HEATHER!” Melissa screamed, but Billy grabbed the girl’s arm and shoved her down the wide opening he had created by manipulating and widening the floor’s BC drain pipe. He pushed Beth after Mel then ducked low and crawled to Heather as the second round of gunfire tore through the cheap walls of the pub, showering him with bits of moldy plaster and ancient wallpaper. He hooked his arm in Heather’s and dragged her body to the hole, pulling her in after him. Together they fell into the darkness.
***
“I see… I see…” Brian began, the pain in his hand almost too much to bear. Not much of a Ghost, he thought. No wonder I don’t have an assignment. “I see a dark tunnel… No, wait… I see lights, bright lights… No, that’s not right.”
Brian jerked in the chair, his head swimming.
“What’s going on?” the woman asked.
“I think I’m falling!” Brian exclaimed.
Vertigo quickly overtook him and what little he had in his stomach came up, splattering the inside of the canvas bag.
“Ah, Jesus Christ!” the woman yelled.
***
Mr. Stone held up his hand and the troopers stopped firing instantly. He and Reginald listened intently, trying to figure out if their quarry was dead, incapacitated, waiting in ambush or gone. Mr. Stone sighed.
“Too quiet, Reginald,” Mr. Stone said. “I believe we may have lost them.”
“I agree, Mr. Stone,” Reginald responded. “I don’t have that warm feeling I get in my tummy with a kill.”
Mr. Stone lifted his hand once more and pointed towards the pub. The remaining five troopers ran inside and within seconds the calls of “Clear!” could be heard in the street. Mr. Stone and Reginald got to their feet, their rifles slung, as they stepped into the destroyed pub.
***
