by C. J.
Danny and Kevin heard more gunfire near them, but couldn’t ascertain the direction of the shots as they both had their eyes squeezed shut.
“Are you hit? Am I hit? Who got hit?” asked Danny. Each question increased in volume and franticness until he was screaming into Kevin’s ear.
“I don’t know. I can’t see.”
“Why can’t you see? Did you get shot in the eye?”
“I can’t see because I have my eyes closed like you, you nit.”
“Oh. How do you know I have my eyes closed?”
“If you had your eyes open, you would see that I have my eyes closed!”
“Ahh yes, that makes sense.”
“Danny, Kevin come over to our desk, and use it for cover.”
“Who are you and what desk?” asked Kevin.”
“It’s Mitchell, come over here behind the security desk.”
“I saw Mitchell get shot. You can’t be Mitchell. It’s a trick.”
“Very good, Kevin” complimented Danny. “I never would have thought of that. I wonder how Suzanne can sound so much like Mitchell.”
“Open your eyes guys, it is us. We are wearing Second Chance vests. We just got them and have been trying them out this last week. I didn’t think being hit would hurt that much. I’m gonna be sore for a week.”
Danny and Kevin screwed up their courage and slowly opened their eyes and see Mitchell and Roger motioning them to come over to their desk.
The desk was crescent-shaped with two computer monitors and various sign-in sheets; it could hold four people relatively comfortably upright or two lying down.
The only concealment that was available to Danny and Kevin, which they were currently using, was a directory board several yards away from the security desk.
“If we leave our spot, she’ll gun us down!” wailed Danny.
“Do a belly crawl,” whisper-shouted Roger.
Danny and Kevin were no strangers to the concept of the belly crawl as they looked forward to Monday mornings for one reason and one reason only. The floors of their lab were waxed on Sunday night, so on Monday mornings they’d have belly races on pieces of cardboard. (Kevin would bring in his own sanitized carton so not to muss up his clothing.)
“Belly racing,” they said in unison momentarily forgetting the danger they were in.
They took several steps back, ran a few feet and slid on their bellies, advancing only four measly feet. Apparently the lobby floor hadn’t been waxed in quite a while.
“Son of a bitch, mother fucker!” shouted Danny. He immediately realized he should use his inside voice at this crucial moment and mouthed “Sorry” to Kevin. He then began breast stroking his way across the floor to the security desk.
Kevin, who realized he was getting his clothes dirty, squat walked his way over to the desk.
While Kevin and Danny were attempting the arduous challenge of moving 25 yards to the security desk, Mitchell and Roger had unleashed the rest of their arsenal.
Kevin had always assumed that the many cabinets behind the security desk held reports and other security-related paperwork. He’d never wondered why the cabinets were locked. Those doors were now open when Keven reached the desk area. Taking in the sea of weaponry, Kevin spluttered, “My God, it looks like the NRA threw up in here.”
Mitchell and Roger were holding what looked like riot shields and had put on helmets with visors that covered their faces. With their free hands, they were firing shot after shot toward the decorative planters between the security desk and bank of elevators.
“We’ve got her on the run now!” shouted Roger as he threw what appeared to be a flat large metal spider toward the elevator bank. The spider winged its way past the potted plants and embedded itself above the up button on the wall between the elevators.
“Throwing star? You have a throwing star?” shouted Mitchell to Roger while simultaneously cracking him on the side of his helmet.
“Yes, that does seem a bit much,” laughed Danny.
“Where in the hell did you get that type of throwing star? I’ve been looking everywhere for the ones with the five blades. Why didn’t you tell me?’
“Over the internet, Bob’s Big Barn of Defense.com. They have everything. The reason I didn’t tell you about the throwing stars is.”
“Stars? You have more than one?”
“Oh yes, they sell them in sets of three and six. I purchased a few dozen assorted. The reason I didn’t tell you is that I was going to split them with you next week on your birthday.”
“OHHHH....” Danny and Kevin said as they looked at each other.
“Isn’t that nice. Why don’t you ever get me anything usable like that on my birthday?” Danny asked Kevin.
“Oh for Christ’s sake, this is not the time or place for birthday analysis,” whispered Kevin.
“Oh, sure, it’s never the time or place. Wait, that sounded a little weird. What are those?” Danny asked as he pointing at an object that Mitchell was lovingly holding.
“This, my friend, is a flash bang. It also goes by the name of a stun grenade.”
“It looks like a small bug zapper” commented Danny.
“Well it would certainly ruin any bug’s day that happened to come into contact with it, that’s for sure!” laughed Mitchell.
Roger looked at Mitchell and said, “On the count of three, I do the West side you do the East, and we’ll drive her back.”
“One, two,” they chimed, and at “two” they high fived each other. When the Tweedles got to three, they threw their respective flash-bangs.
“So what is a flash-bang exact”
Danny was cut off by a blinding flash, followed by an even bigger bang, followed by another bang and flash. “Oh, it’s self- explanatory. Did I say that out loud? I can’t hear myself. Test, test, testing. Oh crap, I’m deaf.”
While Danny was counting and snapping his fingers by his ears, the Tweedles were chest bumping and whooping with joy. Of course, no one in the vicinity could hear their delight since all were now equally deaf.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MITCHELL AND ROGER wanted to recap the last few glorious minutes of their shift and motioned each other and the boys to the security office. There, Mitchell and Roger continued to high five and chest bump while Danny jumped on one leg and then the other, trying to regain his hearing as though he had just come out of the deep end of the pool. Kevin, however, had glued his eyeball to the peephole in the security door, searching for Suzanne.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” screamed Danny at the Tweedles, as he couldn’t monitor his own volume.
Kevin ignored Danny given his own temporary deafness. The Tweedles stopped in mid-high five with Mitchell slapping Roger in the shoulder and Roger missing Mitchell entirely, which caused him to spin in a circle from the momentum and Mitchell’s slap. Mitchell found this hilarious and laughed uproariously until he had to sit down from the effort.
“This has been by far the best drill this stuffy company has ever come up with.” wheezed Mitchell as his giggling wound down. While saying this, he was removing his shooting earplugs, as was Roger.
“I know this is so much better than the fire/disaster drills we have to put on twice a year. This is so kick ass,” Roger agreed.
Kevin and Danny’s hearing was slowly returning from registering only a steady hum to actual sounds and voices. At the mention of a “drill” they turned toward the Tweedles.
“Drill? This is no fucking drill you.” Before Danny could complete his sentence, Kevin put his hand over his mouth and whispered in his ear, “Don’t piss them off. They just saved our lives.”
“Right, shit, right, okay. Umm, guys, this wasn’t a drill, Suzanne is not who we all thought she was. Mad Maxine here is some sort of industrial spy or just a complete nut job or possibly a combination of both. Whatever Suzanne is, she is using live bullets, as you can see in your vests. She wants to kill us, and you guys were simply in her way. So, police, for God sake has anyone called the
police?”
The Tweedles tried to process this latest information while looking at their vests and each other’s body armor. Kevin and Danny exchanged a look and then grabbed the phone in the security office. The line was dead. They frantically checked all their pockets for their cell phones and simultaneously cried, “Fuck!”
The Tweedles slowly caught up to speed. Roger searched for his cell phone, as Mitchell was scanned the video screens for Suzanne.
“There’s no sign of her on any of the levels. Of course, she could be hiding in a bathroom or a camera’s blind spot,” Mitchell said to no one in particular.
Kevin and Danny both stopped looking for their phones, glanced at each other and started slowly backing up toward the security door.
“You know, maybe our phones slid out of our pockets when we were crawling to your desk,” Danny said as he casually felt around for the doorknob behind him.
Roger cried out, “Found it! And waved his phone in the air.”
“Um, Roger, take a closer look at the phone, I think there might be a slight problem with it,” Kevin said overly casually as he edged himself and Danny toward the door.
While Roger was bringing his phone to eye level and examining the round hole in the center of the screen, Kevin and Danny eased open the door and crept out.
“Maybe we should’ve told them we messed with their video system,” whispered Danny as he and Kevin crouched down, scanning the floor for any signs of a phone.
“Are you kidding? The video system is like their child. If they knew we even messed with one camera, let alone the entire system, they would have a shit fit.”
“Oh God, I forgot. They even named it. Now what do we do?” Danny asked.
“See if we can get back to the security desk. If our phones are anywhere, they are behind the desk.”
“Good, let’s go.”
They were halfway to the desk when Kevin, who was slightly ahead of Danny, abruptly stopped, causing Danny to run into his back.
“What the fuck? Why did you stop?”
“What if Suzanne is behind the desk? She’s disabled the phones, and she knows we are going to have to either leave through the front or the rear entrance. What’s a better place to hide than the security desk? She can use for cover and see which entrance we choose to leave by,” Kevin said in one breath.
“Now what, now what, now what?” chanted Danny.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SUZANNE HAD GATHERED her gear and took refuge from the Tweedles’ onslaught in the stairway by the elevator bank. She was currently giving herself a pep talk.
“This is not a retreat, Hemlock; this is just a regrouping to assess the situation. I can still salvage this, and by salvage, I mean Sodom and Gomorrah this place. By the time I get through with this sorry ass company, there won’t be an eyebrow pencil left to find. What’s this now?” Suzanne said to herself conversationally as she stooped down to pick up an Android phone. “My, oh my, someone carelessly dropped. I should return it to its owner as soon as possible. Return it right to their cold, dead hands. Now, on to the business at hand.”
Suzanne had already planted the C4 in Danny and Kevin’s lab, which only left the upper level containing the management offices and the main lobby level. She felt sure she had put enough C4 in the one lab to take out the other labs on the lower level including the NMR room. She wasn’t sure what would happen when that exploded, but it would be worth watching when it did, from a safe distance of course, possibly Europe.
And with that thought she began to climb the stairs to the management level with her bag o’ explosives.
CHAPTER NINE
ROGER WAS LOOKING AT the hole in his iPhone, trying to turn it on and failing. “Mother fucker, I just got this fucker. It’s brand new, and I just installed the arms cartel app. Damn, damn, damn. “
“Forget your phone, Roger. What happened to Betsy?” Mitchell said in a near sob.
“Betsy, what about Betsy? Don’t ever kid about Betsy” said Roger as he dropped the forgotten iPhone, which now had a convenient hole for a neck-chain.
Roger joined Mitchell who was caressing the monitors in an attempt to get them online again.
“That bitch messed up our Betsy” shouted Mitchell.
“Bitch, you can shoot us and kill my phone but taking down Betsy is going too far. This is war.” Mitchell’s voice cracked with emotion.
Roger and Mitchell turned to each other. With eyes misting over, they grasped each other by the shoulder and in unison said, “Vengeance.”
Then they realized they were alone in their office. Roger was the first to count heads and after calculating this problem twice and coming up with the same number twice, two he turned Mitchell.
“Where did Kevin and Danny disappear to?”
Mitchell whirled around and came up with the same headcount and smiled, “They’ve gone to recon. They’ve finally gotten into the spirit of things.”
Kevin and Danny were still playing living statues not sure whether to go back to the office or try for the desk where Suzanne might be lying in wait.
“Why doesn’t one of us go to the desk while the other covers him?” Kevin casually suggested as he moved alongside Danny and then behind him in two quick moves.
“Okay, who is the one going and who is the one covering the one going?” whispered Danny, whipping his head frantically in all directions trying to catch a glimpse of Suzanne and failing to notice that Kevin was no longer in front of him.
“Let’s not quibble about who gets to be the hero,” Kevin whispered in Danny’s ear as he slowly pushed his friend forward and then took two giant steps backward near a potted plant.
“Hero? Who would be the hero, the desk person or the cover person?” asked Danny as he tiptoed forward toward the desk.
Given he was scanning the area, head whirling around as if possessed by the devil, Danny walked directly into the desk. Hitting the Tweedles’ workstation, he shrieked causing Kevin to shout. “Damn it, Danny, I’ve got your back!” He grabbed and threw what he thought was a plastic potted plant next to him toward whatever or whomever Danny was shrieking at. The houseplant, however, was not plastic nor was the planter, and Kevin nearly ruptured himself trying to throw what turned out to be freshly watered and fertilized soil clumps at Danny’s back.
“Oh God, Kevin, she’s shooting at me, I’ve been hit. Save yourself!” Danny screamed as he belly-flopped onto the desk, slithered over the top and landed in an un-heroic heap on the floor, weeping amongst what appeared to be hundreds of spent cartridges from the Tweedles assault. “I’ve been hit, I’ve been hit.” Danny moaned repeatedly. “I’m losing a lot of blood!” Kevin forgot the plant and dirt clumps and the possibility of Suzanne hiding nearby and rushed over to Danny, curled up behind the desk.
“What do you mean you’re losing a lot of blood? No one hit you. Well, at least Suzanne didn’t hit you, you asshole.” Kevin punctuated asshole with a not so gentle nudge with his foot in Danny’s behind.
“Ahh! Don’t kick me I’m wounded. I can feel the blood running down my back.”
Kevin pulled up the back of Danny’s shirt, grabbed a clump of dirt that was trickling down Danny’s sweaty back, and showed it to him.
“Here’s your wound, you nit. God, you’re such a pussy. Ewww, my hands are all slimy now. Where’s the Tweedles’ hand sanitizer? They must have some around here somewhere.”
Danny regarded the clump of dirt Kevin had just handed him, “Why is there dirt running down my back? Who was throwing dirt at me? Hey, asshole, why were you throwing dirt at me, and why was I the one that had to go first behind the desk?” As he was asking these pertinent questions, he punctuated each inquiry with a kick to Kevin’s shin.
Kevin had found a family size pump container of hand sanitizer and was trying to back away from Danny’s kicks while remaining behind the safety of the desk. Since was still trying to kick him, Kevin squirted the strawberry scented hand sanitizer in Danny’s general direction.
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“Hey, fuckface, you’re going to get your fat face shot off dancing around like that,” Danny hissed with one final kick to Kevin’s shin.
Kevin realized the wisdom of Danny’s words. Due more to the thin coat of hand sanitizer on the floor than grace on Kevin’s part, he slid to the floor alongside Danny who was still giving Kevin dirty looks.
“Listen you can kill me later if Suzanne hasn’t killed me or both of us first. We need to find our phones and call for help and then get the hell outta here,” Kevin said to Danny and then stuck out his hand for a truce.
“Okay agreed. If we don’t get killed, I can pumelize you later.” Danny grasped Kevin’s hand, and they both shook.
“Do you see either of our phones?” asked Kevin
“No, but there’s a lot of shit that came out of the drawers and off the desk. They could be under it. You know when I’ve lost my phone before, I’ve called it from another phone. Maybe we can find our phones that way.”
“Yes, good idea. I’ll just find my phone and then call yours so we can then call for help. Do you have any idea where my phone is, Einstein?”
“Christ there’s no reason to get snotty about it. So my logic broke down a little. I am under a teensy weensy bit of stress here. Wait, doesn’t your phone have that app where if it’s stolen it gives its location?”
“Yes, but again that doesn’t help us, I’m pretty sure it’s in this building. The app just gives you the address or location of the phone; it doesn’t give you blueprints of the building it’s in.”
“I thought it had a feature where you could remotely ring it from a website.”
“Oh my God you’re right. I can check it from one of the Tweedles’ IPads. One of them has a green camouflage cover, and the other has a desert camouflage cover. In fact, you can check yours too; I put the same app on your phone.”
“When did you do that and why didn’t I know you did that? Danny was rummaging around in more of Tweedles’ cupboards and finally came up with two iPads. “Found them! Here’s the desert camo one.”
