Lights Out

by Amy Cross

  “Come on!” she shouts again, this time slamming her shoulder against the door. “I want to see you!”

  She throws herself against the door again and again, each time finding that it refuses to budge. Finally she steps back and fires at the lock area several more times, until her gun is out of ammunition. Then, as the sound of alarms gets keener and closer in the distance, she tries to kick the door open.

  “I'm going to see you,” she says firmly. “Even if it's only for one fucking second, I'm going to see your dead body.”

  She tries slamming the door with her shoulder again, and this time she feels something budge slightly. She tries again, then again, and finally she can tell that she's managing to force her way through. Forgetting about everything else for a moment, filled only with a burning need to see that Essien is dead, she throws herself against the door over and over until – with an angry cry – she forces her way through. The door swings open and Cassie stumbles forward into the darkness, landing hard on her hands and knees.

  She looks ahead, waiting to see what's in the room.

  And then everything goes white.

  For a fraction of a second, there's no sound. There's only a vast, all-encompassing white light that seems to be bursting up from a split in the floor. Cassie doesn't have time to pull back, she barely has time to even blink, before suddenly she realizes that the grenades have exploded in the elevator chamber. She stares into the brightness, hoping to spot some sign of Essien's corpse, but then she feels a force pushing against her body, and the whole world seems to spin all around her as the noise of the explosion finally hits.

  She screams as she's blasted out of the doorway and sent spilling across the front room.

  At the last moment she manages to grab one of the chairs, but then the chair itself starts sliding as the entire apartment begins to tip.

  Scrambling to her feet, Cassie tries to race back to the room, even as the floor tips higher and higher. She refuses to stop trying, however, until finally the floor is too steep and she's sent falling backward toward the open window.

  Grabbing onto the edge just as she's about to fall out, she manages to steady herself. A huge, ominous creaking sound is ringing out all around, and flames are bursting through the far end of the apartment's main room. For a moment Cassie tries to pull herself up, but then she stops as she sees that Essien's hiding place has already been blasted apart. Chunks of debris are falling down the floor and tipping out of the broken window, yet still Cassie holds on and finally she tries once again to climb back into the building.

  She has to be sure.

  The anger is urging her onward, pushing her with its horns. She barely even remembers her own name now. All she knows is that she has to get to Essien, that she has to wring the last drops of life from his body. And then? Maybe even that won't be enough. Maybe she'll have to slice him up, piece by piece, and burn whatever's left of his miserable body.

  Suddenly she slips, and this time she has no chance to grab hold of anything.

  As she falls, the entire top section of the tower tilts down with her, sending thousands of pieces of wreckage raining down. At first she can only stare up in disbelief as the tower's top few floors tumble down toward her, and then suddenly the uppermost section slams into the adjacent building. For a moment, she's consumed by a scream that comes from somewhere within her anger, a scream that makes her forget who she is until, at the last moment, a memory of Emily pops back into her mind.

  Suddenly remembering her parachute, and praying that it's not too late, she pulls the cord.

  The canopy immediately deploys, and by some miracle it's not immediately destroyed by falling chunks of the tower. Looking around, Cassie tries to spot some sign of Essien's body, hoping against hope that she might actually see him plummeting toward the ground. Then, feeling herself getting buffeted by the wind, she turns just as she's blown against another of the nearby buildings.

  As soon as she hits the window, her head slams against the glass and she – and the anger – are knocked out cold.

  Chapter ThirtyNine

  4:30am

  “Either you're heavier or I'm weaker or -”

  Finally Anders' knees give way and he falls, although he just manages to keep Cassie's unconscious body in his arms. He lets out a cry of pain, and then he has no choice but to slowly lower her down and set her on the pavement.

  Behind them, at the other end of the street, the Essien tower is still burning and debris has collapsed down against buildings and cars. The upper part of the tower has also fallen from the spot where it initially got wedged against another structure, and flames are raging.

  And all around, a chorus of alarms rings out now that the solar storm has passed.

  “Hey,” Anders says, patting one side of Cassie's face. “You. Disobedient, stubborn woman. You need to wake up so I can tell you how stupid you are.”

  He waits, and then he pats the other side of her face.

  “Hey!” he says, more loudly this time. “I have strong words for you. You are ill-disciplined and pig-headed, and if I wasn't out of this game already, I would tell you in no uncertain terms that I will never go on another mission with you again. Do you hear? This was it. We're through.”

  He waits a moment longer, and then he sighs as he sits back and tries to ignore the pain in his back.

  “Agreed,” Cassie murmurs suddenly, barely managing to open her eyes. “I wouldn't work with you again if you were the last agent on the planet.”

  Anders allows himself a faint smile.

  “I'm glad we're on the same page here,” he tells her, and then he helps her sit up. “So did you see him? Before the whole upper section went up in flames, I mean.”

  She pauses, thinking back to the split second when she burst through the door, before the burst of light. She wants to convince herself that she spotted Essien in the darkness, but deep down she knows that didn't happen.

  “I just wanted to see him,” she says finally. “I know it's dumb, but I wanted to see him, the way I saw...”

  For a moment, she thinks back to the sight of Tom's severed head.

  “I know,” Anders says, putting an arm around her. “I wanted to see the bastard too. Not enough to risk my life like that, but it would have felt good.” He turns and looks back toward the burning tower. “Still. Stabbed in the belly, stabbed in the throat, then left on top of a building that blew up... That's pretty conclusive. And I suppose there's some irony in the way the grenades went off. The whole damn tower got its head taken off.”

  Cassie turns and follows his gaze for a moment, and then she starts getting to her feet.

  “Easy,” Anders says, helping her up. “Your landing wasn't entirely smooth, considering you weren't conscious at the time.”

  “What are the authorities going to say?” she asks.

  “Oh, they'll say they're horrified and that there must be a full investigation.” He smiles. “And then they'll toast to Essien's death and agree not to worry too much about who was responsible. If there were any more of Essien's men anywhere in the tower, and if they managed to get out, they'll melt away into the night. I doubt any of them feel particularly loyal.”

  “It's really over,” she whispers. “It took ten years, but we finally avenged Tom.”

  “We did.”

  “And now what?” she asks, before turning to him.

  “What else?” he replies. “We go home.”

  Chapter Forty

  6:10am

  “Still no power from the grid,” Anders mutters as he turns the wheel, bringing the car onto Cassie's street. “I suppose they're being extra-cautious before they flip the switches.”

  “In some ways, I wouldn't mind if the power stayed off forever,” Cassie replies. “It kind of evens the playing field.”

  “And you wouldn't start missing your creature comforts?” he asks. “The coffee machine. The dishwasher. The laptop?”

  She pauses, and then she smiles.

  �
��I suppose I have softened a little,” she admits, as Anders parks the car outside her house. “Then again, maybe that was necessary. What would happen to someone if they spent their whole life doing the kind of thing we used to do.”

  “Well, I was out there in the field for thirtyfive years,” he points out, cutting the engine. “I don't know what it did to me. If I had my time over, though, I can promise you one thing. I wouldn't change it for the world.”

  “You never had a family,” she reminds him. “No wife, no children.”

  “And I was okay with that,” he says, before peering past her into the front garden. “Although I do believe my dog is on a rope over there.”

  Cassie turns and sees Milo sitting next to the gate, wagging his tail.

  “Steve has allergies,” she replies with a sigh. “I was hoping he might relent and let Milo sleep with Emily tonight, but I guess he was being over-protective. It's a shame. I'd like a dog.”

  “What I said back there, to Essien, was -”

  “I know.”

  “But -”

  “I figured you were keeping him occupied,” she replies, turning to him, “and then when you mentioned your protege Milo, I realized you were signaling to me. You were letting me know that it was all bullshit. You didn't have to do that, but thanks anyway. I'm just sorry the knife went into his throat. I was aiming for the heart.”

  “You're getting sloppy in your old age.”

  Smiling, she gets out of the car and goes into the garden, where she takes a moment to untie Milo. Then she heads back over and lets the dog onto the passenger seat, where he immediately goes crazy and starts licking Anders' face.

  “Are you sure you don't want to come inside for a while?” she asks.

  “That's very nice of you,” Anders replies, “but I want to get home. I have a neighbor I want to check on. A very nice lady.”

  “You could come to dinner some time,” she continues. “I cook a mean -”

  “I don't think so,” he says, interrupting her as Milo continues to lick his cheek. “This reunion was fun, Cassie, but people like us shouldn't get together and reminisce about the old days. I'm glad that you've found a family life that you enjoy, but I was built to be alone. Well, as alone as one can get when one has an animal such as this scruff-bag. I appreciate your offer, and I hope you won't be offended that I must turn it down.”

  “Is this goodbye, then?” she asks.

  “Don't feel the need to come to my funeral,” he says, reaching past Milo and shaking her hand. “Not that I intend to die for a long time, but when the day comes... Raise a glass, if you must, but don't shed a tear. As a life-long loner, I can assure you that I am, and always will be, completely fine. Unless I am literally licked to death by Milo, in which case I suppose I might consider that to be an ignominious end.”

  “Maybe I'll call you some time.”

  “You don't have my number.”

  “Yes I do. There's a car insurance document in the seat pocket. I added the contact number to my phone.”

  “How do you know it's not a fake number?”

  “I don't.”

  “I wouldn't pick up, anyway.”

  “I know. But at least I have it.” She pauses. “I guess you'd better get going and find John the Pig. Get him to patch you up. I might go along in a day or two.”

  There's another brief pause, in which both Cassie and Anders consider saying something else, before finally she steps back and shuts the car door.

  Anders nods.

  Cassie waves.

  Milo wags his tail.

  As the engine starts and the car drives away, Cassie is left standing alone on the pavement. The sun has begun to rise, but the power grid is still down so most of the houses are completely dark. She waits until the lights of Anders' car have disappeared around the far corner and then, realizing that her old life is now definitively at a close, Cassie turns and wanders toward the garden gate. For a moment she's lost in memories, thinking back to the death of Tom Dansing, but as she closes the gate she tells herself that she has to look to the future now. And by the time she's at the front door, she's come to accept that she really can move on now.

  What's that phrase?

  She steps inside and gently shuts the door.

  The past is another country, something like that.

  She pauses in the hallway, listening to the silence of the house, grateful that somehow she survived the insanity of the night. Having barely had time to think during the mission, it's only now – as she drops her backpack, slips out of her jacket and heads through to the kitchen – that she realizes just how crazy the whole thing was. Reaching the kitchen, she instinctively reaches out and flicks the switch on the wall, before remembering that the main power isn't back on yet. Sighing, she heads to the sink and finds that at least the water supply is back up and running, so she pours herself a glass and then pauses to look out at the back garden.

  Behind her, there's a faint bumping sound.

  She turns, not expecting to see anything, and then she freezes. And in that second, her heart feels as if it's about to explode.

  Michael Essien is in the darkness at the far end of the kitchen, holding a knife at Emily's throat. There's blood all over the floor, and the breakfast bench has been pushed aside.

  Cassie blinks, not believing what she's seeing.

  This has to be wrong.

  An illusion, maybe. The product of a broken mind.

  And then, slowly, Essien smiles the smile of a dying man.

  “Mummy,” he says finally. “We've been waiting a couple of hours. What took you so long?”

  Cassie immediately starts thinking about what she can use. She dropped her backpack in the hallway, and she has no weapons.

  “You have a lovely daughter,” Essien continues, wincing slightly with pain. “Not very communicative, but pleasant-enough company.”

  Cassie steps forward.

  “No, no closer,” Essien says, pressing the knife harder against Emily's throat. “I'm sure I don't have to bore you with the details of how I made it out of the tower alive. You can think of several ways, can't you? Back doors, back-up parachutes, other windows. As for my injuries, I admit that I'm not the man I once was, but sheer hatred can drive a man onward, can't it?”

  Cassie looks at Emily and sees her daughter's terrified, tear-filled eyes.

  “Nice place you have here,” Essien continues. “A long time ago, I had Randall write up a list of every possible enemy of mine who might still be out in the world. I barely even noticed your name on that list, but it came in handy this morning, didn't it?”

  “Mummy,” Emily whimpers, “please -”

  “Don't sob,” Essien hisses, pulling her tighter. “I'm sure you have a little bit of your mother in you. Be brave, like she's always brave.”

  “If you hurt her,” Cassie stammers, “I -”

  “You'll what? Kill me?” He grins. “You've pretty much done that already. This is basically just revenge. No, if I kill her, there's nothing you can do.”

  Cassie looks over and sees that there's a carving knife on the kitchen counter.

  “It's too dark,” Essien says, having noticed that she saw the knife. “You hit me in the throat earlier, but I imagine you were aiming for something more vital. Do you really trust your aim now, in the gloom? Maybe in proper light you could hit me, but right now there's too much of a danger that the blade would slice straight into your pretty little girl's face.”

  “What do you want?” Cassie asks, turning back to him.

  “I don't -”

  “I'll give you anything,” she continues, struggling to hold back. “You can take me, all of me. Just leave her alone.”

  “Like you left me alone?”

  She opens her mouth to beg him, but for a fraction of a second she sees – actually sees, right before her – Tom Dansing's decapitated body slumping down against the Middle East sand. She blinks, and she's back in the unlit kitchen again.

  �
��She's the perfect trap, isn't she?” Essien says as he slowly glides the blade's edge against Emily's throat. “A weakness you allowed yourself to bring into this world. Have you noticed that a recurring theme with me is the cutting off of heads?”

  “You wouldn't,” Cassie says through gritted teeth, as Essien's smile grows.

  “Really? You think so?”

  Before she can reply, he reaches over and opens the kitchen cupboard.

  Cassie lets out a brief, horrified cry as Steve's dead body tumbles out and slams down against the floor. Even in the gloom, she can see that his throat has been cut open, and there's still blood oozing from the gashed wound.

  “He thought I was you, coming home,” Essien explains. “He came into the kitchen, complaining that you'd gone off to see your sister, something like that.”

  Cassie puts her hands over her mouth as she starts weeping.

  “If it's any consolation,” Essien continues, “I came up from over his shoulder. He barely knew what happened.”

  Tears run down Cassie's face as she puts her hands behind her, on the counter.

  “Still thinking about making a move for that knife, huh?” Essien asks. “Are you going to risk making a mistake? How would you feel, if you were the one who killed your little princess?”

  “Let her go,” Cassie stammers, her bottom lip trembling now as she sees Emily staring down in shock at Steve's corpse. “She's just a little girl.”

  “You think I won't have the guts to cut her fucking head off?” Essien sneers. “You're wrong there, Cassandra. After all, I already decapitated her father right in front of her.”

  Cassie stares at Steve's dead face, and then she looks at Essien again.

  “No,” she says finally, “you didn't.”

  “I think the proof is -”

  “You decapitated her step-father right in front of her,” she adds, gripping the counter-top a little more tightly now. “Not her father.”