Reality

by Kenneth James Allen

Maxine launched the Jeep up the gutter, smashing a mailbox and crushing several outdoor tables and chairs belonging to a restaurant. People ran in all directions, attempting to evade the unpredictable path of the crazy driver. Maxine crunched the brakes, and the jeep skidded to a stop outside the front doors of an office building.

  “Leave the tech, grab the guns, and let’s go,” Xavier ordered.

  The three jumped out and abandoned the still idling four-wheel drive. Xavier caught a glimpse of the sports utilities as he ushered the others inside.

  “Hurry,” he yelled, throwing a bag to Maxine. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “What are you going to do?” Scott asked between breaths.

  “Slow them down.”

  Scott’s eyes rested on the bullet hole in Xavier’s shoulder. Whatever the impact, it didn’t seem to slow him down. Xavier noticed.

  “Don’t worry about it, I’ll be just fine.”

  Scott followed Maxine around a corner to a bank of elevators, her sniper rifle slung over her shoulder. She dropped Xavier’s bag in the middle of the floor and paced the hallway, checking her ordinance.

  “You going to call an elevator?” Scott asked.

  She shrugged. “Don’t need to.”

  It was his first opportunity to take all of her in, and he couldn’t help but stare. She looked identical to the Maxine when he used the Identity app, including her bright blue eyes that seemed to constantly scan the area.

  “Do,” Scott started. “Do you remember me?”

  She fixed her stare on him. Lust replaced with despondence.

  He watched as she skillfully ejected the magazine, checked the rounds, then slammed it home with a satisfying clack. She looked at the gun in Scott’s hand and nodded.

  “You going to check that?”

  Scott looked at it and held it up. “Do I need to?”

  When the two took off, Xavier watched the driveway entrance from the safety of a large, marble support pillar. The twin vehicles approached from either side of the driveway, blocking in the Jeep. Xavier smiled and pressed a button on his phone.

  The detonation was fierce. The carnage took place before anyone heard it. Amidst a red fireball, the primary shock wave split the two sports utilities in half horizontally. The secondary wave pushed the vehicles back like leaves in a storm. Xavier covered his ears as the three-story glass panels on either side of him erupted in a shower of fragments. Building fire alarms erupted and swirled with metal crunches of vehicles landing on concrete, activating the foyer sprinkler system.

  Scott cowered when the explosion shook the building. He could hear the hiss of the fire sprinklers take action, overshadowed by the quick pace of heavy footfalls heading towards them. When Xavier arrived, Scott followed them into the nearest elevator. Xavier pressed some buttons into his phone and the lift doors closed.

  “I didn’t think lifts worked when there was a fire,” Scott said.

  “Usually they don’t,” Maxine said.

  “But they do when you know how to override the system,” Xavier added, holding up his phone.

  Scott looked over at his companions.

  “How the hell are you two so damn calm?”

  Maxine smiled. “You’ll learn.”

  “You’ll remember,” Scott corrected.

  The lift doors opened into a small glass cubicle; a black, sleek helicopter sat just beyond. The five blades of the main rotor spun at a lazy pace, yet seemed to increase in speed with each passing moment. As the three ran towards it, Scott noted the shrouded tail rotor and absence of any markings.

  They bundled into the open door as the downdraft picked up in intensity. Scott jumped into one of the leather seats and buckled his belt as fast as he could, tightening the straps until he had trouble breathing. It was his first time in a helicopter, although it was also his first time holding a gun, his first time in a shootout. That was his life. A string of firsts.

  Xavier, seated backwards behind the pilot near the door, gave the order and the machine lifted into the air with ease. He kept his focus on the lifts and whispered to himself.

  “Hurry, please,” he requested, as a shower of sparks struck the helicopter.

  The pilot took evasive action and peeled off, nosing up to escape the shower of bullets coming from the roof.

  Maxine looked to Scott.

  “Jesus, you look like shit.”

  “Fuck you, Maxine.”

  “Just breath,” she said. “You’ll be fine.”

  Chapter 3

  Once the aircraft had leveled out and their mysterious attackers were left behind, Scott clicked his fingers towards Xavier.

  “Hey! You going to tell me where we’re going now?”

  Xavier leaned forward. “We’re going to a place you won’t find on any map. A long-forgotten military base in the Pacific.”

  “You mean, like, the ocean.”

  “Given the context, is there another Pacific?”

  “Fine. Why are we going there and not to the police?”

  Maxine let out an exuberant laugh.

  Xavier sighed as he looked to Maxine. “You’re right, it isn’t fair.” Then to Scott, “I’m sorry, Scott. You’ve been on quite the journey and I’ve been holding everything back from you. But it’s been purposeful and for a very good reason. I promise I’ll tell you everything and answer any of your questions, provided you give me something in return.”

  “I don’t really have anything to give you, Xavier. In these days I’ve lost my wife, my identity. I’m pretty sure I don’t have a job anymore... won’t come Monday, anyway.”

  “Scott, you have more to give than you know. You are more than you think.” He looked down. “Let me start at the beginning. We’re going to a place called The Playground. Its primary purpose was for training and scientific research. Now it’s a bunch of derelict buildings. But we’re more interested in what’s under the surface.”

  “What’s under the surface?”

  Xavier paused, glancing at the black canvas outside. He turned back. “It’s easier to show you than tell you.”

  Scott chewed the response over. “Fine. But why there?”

  “Because it’s forgotten, because the people after us don’t know about it. Besides, it’s got the tools we need to help you. And before you ask, it’s like I said before. It’s easier to show you then tell you.”

  “So, what are you, ex-military? A rogue scientist? Is that why they’re after you?”

  Xavier chewed his lip. “I know it might not seem like it, but you’re asking a lot of complex questions that you might not like the answers to.”

  “Fine, Xavier. But you haven’t really told me anything yet.”

  “Geez,” Maxine said. “Was I this bad?”

  “Worse,” Xavier grunted.

  Scott looked at Maxine. “And just who the hell are you and where did you come from?”

  “Maxine was once just like you,” Xavier said. “She’s been following you around for months just to make sure we had the right person.”

  “What? What do you mean? I didn’t see anyone following me around.”

  “Exactly,” Maxine interjected.

  “You think you were some random fool I met in the airport bathrooms?” Xavier queried.

  Scott couldn’t answer.

  “The answer is ‘No’, Mr. Harris. I know there is a lot to get your head around, and when we land, I can tell you all about—.”

  The cabin erupted in a series of alarms.

  A voice came over the speaker system. “Sir, we have unidentified aircraft approaching fast.”

  Xavier grabbed a pair of headphones hanging against the cabin and thrust them on. “Where the hell did they come from?”

  “Out of nowhere, sir.”

  “Evasive maneuvers.”

  Scott’s limbs flailed as the helicopter took action, ducking and weaving, before hitting its ceiling elevation. The passengers looked out the window as two black, sleek helicopters moved up to the flank posi
tion. Scott noted the rocket launcher attached to the underside of the wingtips.

  Scott swore. Loudly. “But we’ll be okay, right? Like we’ve got air-to-air missiles or something?”

  “Mr. Harris, this is a civilian aircraft, not some Rambo special,” Xavier said. “I’m trying to figure out how the hell they keep tracking us. The only tech we have is mine, and that’s untraceable.”

  Scott’s eyes went wide. Slowly, he pulled his phone from his pocket.

  Xavier stopped mid-thought. “What the hell is that? I told you to leave it in the car.”

  “You said a lot of stuff, and I was confused, okay?”

  “No!” Maxine said. “It is not okay.”

  “God damn it, Scott. If you don’t want to die, you’ll do as I tell you!”

  Maxine reached over and grabbed the device, headphones and all, before moving to the door.

  “Hey,” Scott yelled, awkwardly escaping his seat restraints. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing.”

  “What you should have done when we pulled up to the building. I’m getting rid of this.”

  She slid open the door a foot and flicked the device out the window.

  Scott met her at the door. “Shit! That’s got my app on it. What the hell am I supposed to do now?” Something caught his attention over her shoulder and he moved closer to the door to inspect it.

  The accompanying helicopters sliding door had opened, and something pushed forth from the black interior.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Scott asked.

  Xavier and Maxine looked. “Yes!” they shouted in unison.

  Tracer rounds from both sides lit up the sky and struck the cockpit. More alarms sounded as the pilots slumped on the controls, and the aircraft dipped into a flat spin.

  “What the fuck are we going to do now?” Scott said as he struggled to hold keep his feet.

  “Well, I’m going to make sure we don’t crash.”

  Maxine extracted two small devices and thrust them into Scott’s ears. He could feel the objects bury deep into his ear canal, like tentacles trying to get to his brain. Then she ripped a beanie out of Xavier’s bag and pulled it over his head.

  He looked at her with questioning eyes.

  “Because, it’s cold outside,” she said.

  “Excuse me? Outside?” Scott questioned.

  Ignoring the query, she held up a device and strapped it to his forearm.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “That, as you put it, is on a three-second delay, and will countdown once you hit the external air pressure.”

  “What the hell do you want me to do?”

  She looked over his shoulder and slid the door open. “You’re going to go fix your fuck up.”

  “What? How?”

  She smirked. “You’ll figure it out!”

  With the final word, she pushed him backwards.

  Scott's eyes went wide as his view of Maxine standing in the cabin shrunk. He reached out to grab something to stop his fall, but everything was beyond reach. The mixture of rotor downforce and gravity dragged him down and away. The turbulent force spun him around. With arms and legs thrashing against the wind, Scott had enough time to see aircraft running lights below him. Then he blacked out.

  Chapter 4

  Scott shot through the dusk air like a bullet at terminal velocity. Reds and oranges spread out over the horizon, the sun looking like someone had smashed it against the ground in a fit of rage. He breathed in oxygen from a tank attached to his chest and viewed the GPS coordinates on a panel attached to his forearm. A voice came over the device in his ears.

  “Mr. Harris, this is Deputy Director Krantz of the National Clandestine Service. I’m glad you’re part of this mission, and sorry we couldn’t do this in person before your departure. This mission is simple, Mr. Harris. Two four-wheel drives, carrying mercenaries loyal to Dimitrijevic and Miroslav, are headed to the airport to intercept your G6 private jet. If they compromise the jet, they could extract the coordinates of our top-secret base, along with the names and identities of every agent in the field. This is an unacceptable outcome. You will stop those cars reaching their destination, in any way possible, and eliminate all potential threats. They are fighting for the deaths of their crime family’s leaders. We are fighting for the execution of Special Agent Rollinson. God speed Mr. Harris. Out.”

  When he hit three thousand feet, an alarm sounded in his ear that matched the alert on the screen on his forearm. He pulled the cord, and a chute opened, arresting his descent to a reasonable speed, as he positioned himself over one of the cars. He unclipped the parachute landed deftly with a solid thud, surfing the vehicle as it tore down an empty motorway.

  On one knee and jamming a foot under the roof rack, he removed his Smith & Wesson nine-millimeter and aimed it at the driver of the opposite vehicle. Easiest damn mission ever, he thought as he pulled the trigger. The vehicles turned suddenly, the centrifugal forces causing Scott to lose his balance. He fell backwards, gripping onto the side of the roof rack at the last second, his feet skipping over the roadway. His gun skipped away over the asphalt, out of sight. Shit!

  Looking through the rear passenger window, he could see the mercenaries inside gearing up for their assault on the G6. Machine guns were being loaded and readied. The soldier closest to him looked around to him, then did a double-take. He screamed something and the driver instantly swerved, Scott's legs flying as he struggled to find any purchase.

  The man placed his machine gun against the glass, right at Scott’s head. Scott closed his eyes, waiting for the impact. There was a thud and Scott looked into the spiderweb of cracks that resulted from a round being fired into the bulletproof glass. He smiled as the mercenary grimaced and pulled himself back onto the roof.

  The vehicles took a motorway exit and Scott steadied himself for the change in speed and dynamics. Unprepared for what happened next, the grunt poked his head up. Held on by their comrade, the soldier leaned out and aimed. Scott slammed a foot down on the weapon, jamming the man’s hands underneath. He screamed as Scott kicked at his face, the force enough to shake him loose from his safety grip, and he tumbled across the roadway. Scott looked back to see the prone body skid to a halt on the asphalt.

  Then he roared in pain as he fell to the car roof with a smack. He carefully investigated the knife handle sticking out from his calf. He took a few deep breaths as he wrapped a hand around the handle, preparing himself to yank it out. But before he could complete the backyard medical procedure, a body was straddling him.

  “Welcome, comrade,” the man sneered and threw a punch into the side of the unwanted guest’s head.

  #

  Day turned to night in an instant. Pain engulfed his body. Scott screamed in agony as he attempted to get his bearings. Gushing wind enveloped him, causing noise to disappear and reappear every second. To his right, he could make out some flashing lights. He knew he was in a helicopter; he just had no idea how he came to be there. There was a weight on his chest, making breathing a near-impossible task.

  “I said, where are you going?” the man said, his voice deep and rough.

  Scott looked at the pale eyes behind the balaclava. Opened his mouth but had no idea what to say. Invariably out of his depth, all he could manage was a weak groan. All he could think about was the pain he was about to endure. The man pulled his fist back, ready to unleash a disturbing blow. Then his head snapped back, and he fell to the side.

  Scott looked over to the helicopter hovering to my right and noted a rifle barrel sticking out from a hole in the cockpit. That’s when he saw it. He focused on the small device on the cabin floor. He wasn’t sure how it came out, whether by impact or force.

  Another covered face hovered over Scott, this one upside down.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he shouted.

  Scott jammed the device back into his ear canal.

  #

  Scott looked up into the masked face
. Scott wasn’t sure how or when they got on the vehicle roof, but there they were. They said something in their native tongue, and even though their words and meaning were lost in the hectic nature of the battle, the handgun indicated an undeniable intention.

  Reaching down, Scott grabbed the knife handle. With a guttural groan, he yanked the knife out of his leg and into the groin of the attacker. The solder howled, dropping his weapon instantly to solve the issue. He wasn’t going to find a solution to that problem. Scott kicked, and the man flew off the back of the vehicle, his landing the least of his problems.

  Scott got to shaky legs with the support of the machine gun, courtesy of his first encounter. He turned to the front and leaped up. Time seemed to stand still as he flew through the air, yet he was confident the inertia would carry him to his intended target. He landed heavily across the windshield, rendering it useless.

  The driver, whether by shock or strategy, hit the brakes. The four-wheel-drive skidded to a halt. With nothing holding him back, Scott flew off the front, rolling several times on the road before coming to a halt. Blood and bruises covered his entire body, and he was looking forward, more now than ever, to a cold beer at the end of the day.

  A foot kicked at the damaged windscreen. Once, twice, three times before he kicked it out onto the hood. They glanced at the prone body lying on the ground and smiled as they idled forward. It would be an easy kill.

  Suddenly, Scott rose into a seated position. Before the driver and passenger could react, Scott released two shots in rapid succession. Both men slumped forward, blood draining from their faces. This, however, did not stop the vehicle, as it slowly crept towards him. Scott lay flat on the road, his weapon across his chest, and kept his appendages clear from the slowly rotating, large tires.

  When the vehicle had come to rest against a light pole, Scott pulled himself out and inspected his ride. It would have to do. He yanked open the door of the idling SUV and pulled the driver out by the collar, the body landing with a wet crunch. He climbed in and looked over to the dead body in the passenger seat.

  “You ready?”

  The sun was almost extinguished as the second mercenary transport busted through a secured, wire-mesh fence. Dirt and stones kicked up as the vehicle skidded onto the tarmac and sped towards the lone G6. Suddenly, the vehicle swerved out of control as the rear tires disintegrated amidst a torrent of machine-gun spray. The driver pressed on towards its destination, despite leaving shredded tires in its wake. Sparks flew as the rims hit asphalt, creating an impressive shower of sparks.