Hunter's Games (9 page)

Jesus Christ...

I hear what sounds like two gunshots, but they’re faint amid all this noise and chaos. I look around trying to see where they came from, but it’s futile. There’s too much smoke and too many people running around and screaming. My gaze rests momentarily on some scattered body parts on the road—probably what remained of the SWAT team…

I see Agent Johnson running over to a small crowd of people nearby, waving at them wildly and imploring them to get back. Agent Wallis takes his time standing up, and looks a little concussed. He would’ve been standing closer to the blast than the rest of us, so he probably caught more of it.

I know what that feels like…

“What the hell’s happening?” shouts Chambers. “Where is this guy?”

I shrug. “I have no idea!” I shout back.

A second explosion sounds out, further away than the first. We all half-duck again before realizing it isn’t nearby.

But it must be…

I look up, trying to see the tops of the buildings in the mid-distance in the vain hope of seeing a small figure looking down at us or something, but instead I see the chopper that's been hovering above us spinning out of control and plummeting quickly toward us in flames.

Straight for the bus.

“Oh, shit!” I yell.

Without thinking, and before anyone else can react, I race over to the school bus and yank the doors open, no longer caring about the initial bomb threat. The way I see it, if he was going to detonate the bomb under the bus, he would’ve done it already.

I climb on board and look at the sea of shocked and scared children. I have no idea what to do, and for a valuable second, I freeze completely as I gaze down the bus and see nothing but small faces, mouths hanging open in unimaginable horror.

Then my brain resumes normal service.

“Everyone, I need you to listen carefully and do exactly as I say. I want you all to make your way to the front of the bus as quickly as you can and jump off, okay? Single file, right now. Once you’re off, you have to run as fast as you can and get as far away from this bus as possible.”

I clap my hands together to speed them along.

“Come on,” I said. “Now!”

They don’t need telling twice. A stampede of small feet run to the front of the bus and jump down to the parking lot. I look for the teachers in the crowd.

“Hit the ground running and get them as far away from here as you can,” I yell. “You’ve got less than ten seconds!”

I stand watching as the last of the kids escape the bus. The last one jumps off and starts running, but loses their balance and falls forward on their face. It’s a little girl, probably about seven years old. She has pigtails in her hair…

I look at her lying on the floor, crying and screaming, and I think of my own daughter, Maria. She was roughly the same age when she was taken from me. Everything stops and I feel my heart breaking all over again.

I’ll be damned if I’m going to lose another little girl...

I jump off and rush to her, scooping her up in my arms and run as fast as I can. A couple of seconds later and I hear the flaming chopper hit the bus. The impact is deafening, and the explosion it causes knocks me off my feet. I’d managed to get maybe thirty feet from the bus, but the blast hits me like a freight train and I’m thrown forward. Instinctively, I throw the little girl out in front of me—I’ll crush her if I land on top of her. It’ll hurt her, but it’s better than the alternative and I’m sure she’ll forgive me.

I hit the ground hard, landing face down. My head smacks against the concrete. As my skull bounces up again, I catch sight of the little girl landing some feet in front of me, seemingly safe from the blast.

Everything goes quiet. People’s screams are reduced to a small echo, drowned out by the loud, constant ringing in my ears. My body feels hot and my eyes are stinging. Disoriented, I roll over on my back and look down my body.

Holy shit, I’m on fire!

I quickly roll over and over, mindlessly slapping at the flames to put them out. People are surrounding me that I don’t recognize. They cover me in a blanket and after a minute help me to my feet.

My eyes are sore and my vision’s blurring…

I wipe my hand across my face. It feels wet and I look down to see it covered in blood.

The world around me keeps fading to black and back again in slow motion. I look around and see blurry outlines of people running toward a body on the floor a few feet away, then toward me…

I’m lying on the ground again. I open my eyes. I must’ve blacked out. I struggle to push myself up on all fours, but Johnson and Chambers appear next to me and help me. They lift my arms around their necks and help me walk away. They’re saying something, but I can’t make out what.

I stumble and they guide me to the ground. I’m on a grass verge off the right, away from the carnage and chaos behind me. I wipe my eyes again and look over to the entrance of the Academy. On my left is a burning wreck that was once a SWAT van. Across the front of the building, whoever isn’t dead or injured are running and screaming trying to get away, but ultimately falling over each other. Just to the right of that is what’s left of the school bus, and the remains of a chopper sticking out of it on fire.

Sweet Jesus… this is insane!

I look up next to me and see Chambers talking hurriedly into her phone. Johnson’s kneeling beside me with his hand on my shoulder. I can’t see where Wallis has gone. He’s probably helping anyone who’s injured or something.

Johnson is saying something to me and nodding, but I have no idea what—his voice sounds hollow, drowned out by a loud ringing. Looking at his face, I think he seems positive…

My head starts to spin, and I lie back, preparing for the world to turn black once again. In my mind, all I can see is an image of The Shark looking on, laughing. I can’t believe he would endanger the lives of so many innocent people—innocent children—just to get to me.

This has to stop. It’s just too much. I’ve always said my anger is kept behind a closed door. Every now and then, someone will try to push that door open, and they never like what awaits them on the other side. This guy just kicked my door off its hinges… He has no idea what’s coming for him—what I’m prepared to do to put a stop to this. The scary thing is, as I close my eyes and feel the world slipping away from me once more, neither do I.

21:02

“He’s awake,” says the voice, sounding miles away. “Go and tell Agent Chambers.”

I open my eyes, blinking a few times to clear the fog. I look to my right and see Agent Wallis standing next to me. He isn’t smiling, but he seems glad I’m not dead, which is something I suppose.

I look around. I’m in a hospital room, lying in bed hooked up to a heart monitor. The door on the right is open. I look briefly out the window on the left; it’s dark outside. I turn back to Agent Wallis.

“Where am I?” I ask.

“You’re in San Francisco General Hospital,” he replies. “You’ve been here just over four hours.”

My head’s killing me. I try to turn on my side, but all the wires stuck to my chest restrict my movement. I look at the machine, which is beeping steadily. That’s good—I’m definitely not dead… first bit of good news I’ve had all day.

“Christ. What the hell happened back there?” I ask, remembering the scene outside the Academy. “Is everyone alright?”

“The kids are safe, thanks to you. I don’t know if you’re a hero or just plain stupid, but you were on that bus before any of us even registered that the chopper had exploded. That was some good work, Adrian… Thank you.”

“I’m just glad they’re alright. What about the SWAT guys?”

Wallis purses his lips together and shakes his head solemnly. “All dead,” he says. “I’ve no idea how the sonofabitch managed to rig a bomb to a fucking SWAT truck...”

“Shit. I’m sorry, man.”

“None of us saw it coming. We were too focused on the school bus.”

His voice trails off. I look at him. He’s maybe six months into being a fully trained agent, but nothing you do at Quantico can prepare you for a day like he's just had. He’s probably still in shock.

“How are we all doing?” I ask, feeling compelled to offer some level of comfort to him.

He starts to answer, but Agent Chambers walks in, followed by Agent Johnson, and he stops himself. They both look like they’ve been dragged ass-backward through a trash heap, but they’re in one piece at least.

“Can you give us a minute?” she asks Wallis.

He nods and heads out of the door. Johnson follows him, but stops and turns back to look at me.

“Everything else aside,” he says. “That was a real gutsy move back there, Adrian.”

He walks out without waiting for a reply and closes the door behind him.

I look at Agent Chambers. Grace. She stands next to me, where Wallis had just been. She smiles a weary smile.

“You alright?” I ask.

“I’ve had better days, but I’ll live.”

“I’m just glad we all survived. You might not believe me, but I do genuinely feel for those SWAT guys. I know this is my fault.”

“This isn’t your fault,” she says, putting her hand on mine and squeezing gently. I try to return the gesture, but don’t quite have the strength. “This is The Shark’s fault. And whether I like it or not, we were lucky you were there.”

“Ah, team effort,” I say, smiling. “Hey, where’s Josh? I don’t remember seeing him in the chaos back there.”

Chambers says nothing, but looks down and squeezes my hand again.

“What is it?” I ask, with growing concern.

“Your friend was hit,” she says. “He’s in the ICU now and he’s listed as critical. I’m sorry, Adrian.”

I feel sick to my stomach. Like I’m on a rollercoaster and I’ve just been flipped upside down at a hundred miles an hour. The room starts spinning almost as fast as my mind is. How the hell could Josh have been shot?

I replay the scene in my head as best I can. Parts of it are still blurry to me, thanks to what I can only assume is a fairly significant concussion.

The first blast was over to our left. That was the SWAT van. The second blast was high above, which was the chopper. That crashed down on the school bus, causing a third blast—that was the one that just about got me. So how did Josh get shot?

I close my eyes and rub my temples, trying to make sense of everything.

The gunshots…

There were two gunshots. They were barely audible at the time, but there was no mistaking them. I remember hearing them in the few moments between the first two explosions. I dismissed them as random at the time, but I was wrong. The timing of them was too specific. Two bullets.

The Shark intended to take Josh out.

I don’t have the energy to get angry. I’ll save that for later. I’ll save that for when my hands are around The Shark’s throat.

I look at Chambers. “I need to see him,” I say.

“You need to rest,” she replies.

“I wasn’t asking...”

I sit up, pulling all the leads off me and causing the machine to sound the constant beep of a flatline. I swing my legs over the side of the bed just as the door bursts open and three nurses run in shouting.

“Sir, you must stay in bed!” barks one of them.

I wave them away and stand up slowly, adding weight to my legs gradually to make sure I can actually get out of bed under my own strength.

“Sir, please,” continues the nurse. “You need to rest.”

I look at her. She seems like a nice person. Short brown hair and brown eyes. Probably mid-forties. A career nurse, for sure.

“Where is he?” I ask, calmly.

She looks confused and glances at Agent Chambers for some kind of verification. I see the look on her face as she realizes who I mean.

“Your friend is in critical condition,” she says.

“I know. What happened to him?” I ask.

“He was shot in the center of his chest and at the top of his left thigh. We’ve done our best to remove the bullets, but the damage was extensive. The loss of blood was significant and one of his lungs has collapsed. Luckily, the bullets managed to miss any major arteries, so we were able to stop the bleeding, but he’s still suffered a massive trauma. We’re keeping him in a medically-induced coma until he stabilizes.”

I nod, taking in the information while at the same time barely hearing a word. That’s Josh she’s talking about. My friend. My partner. My brother. And he’s lying in a hospital bed because of me.

“I still need to see him,” I say, standing and staggering over to the door. “Where is he?”

The nurse sighs, giving up the argument. “He’s down the hall to your left, through the double doors and it’s the first room on the right. Let me get you a wheelchair.”

I wave my hand dismissively, refusing the offer, then set off to find him. I realize I’m wearing a hospital gown and underwear and nothing else. But I don’t care. I have to see Josh. Even if he’s in a coma, he’ll hear me.

I need to tell him I’ve just figured out who The Shark really is.