Kill on Command (10 page)

“You here to watch us crush those guys?”  Steve asked, checking out her long legs.  She ignored them.

“Hey!  You hear me?”  Steve asked again.  Sandy looked down at them and removed her sunglasses.  She stared at him.  A cold sensation ran through Steve.  He suddenly was afraid.  Something in her eyes. 

“Fuck off,” she said.  She put her glasses back on and looked forward.  “Damn that feels good,” she thought.  Steve and the other two turned and walked away.

“Let’s not do that again,” one of them said to the other.

The refs blew the whistle – game time.

“It’s coming to you off the face buddy,” Brian said to him and stopped at the middle of the field for the face off.  Sean jogged to the far sideline and took his position.  Steve was standing there.  Sean turned and stood next to him.  At midfield Brian looked over at Sean.

“Remember what I said!”  Brian shouted.

“You two are a couple fags,” Steve snarled.

“Thanks eunuch,” Sean replied and at that same moment the whistle blew.  Brian won the face and the ball shot across the field like a laser towards Sean.  He caught it and immediately headed for the goal.  However, Steve was good, moving into position to check the ball out of Sean’s stick.  But Sean was not the Sean of old.  He moved too fast.  In Sean’s mind, the rest of the men on the field were moving in slow motion.  The speed in which impulses were sent to Sean’s brain was unrivaled, providing him with reflexes and speed that was unmatched – on the field and everywhere else for that matter.   He gave Steve a face dodge and ran right past him.  Steve stood there, mouth open.  Brian stopped too.  Sean crossed mid-field, heading for the goal.  A Harrisburg defenseman moved up to stop him.  Sean made a sharp cut left, shifting the stick to his left.  The defenseman stumbled trying to slide over to check Sean.  He fired the shot out of the d-stick.  It went in top left.  It appeared as if the goalie’s feet were stuck in concrete.  The whistle blew.  Sean stopped running and turned to go back to his position.  Brian still at midfield, walked towards his friend.

“That’s some kind of fast! Where has that been?” 

Sean shrugged.

“If I run all that way, I’m going to shoot,” Sean said, with a broad smile.

“Let’s do it again,” Brian said, tapping him with his stick.  Sean lined up again with Steve.  Sean looked at him.

“They must have taken your legs too, eunuch,” Sean taunted.

“Asshole.  I’m going to ear-hole that prick,” Steve mumbled.

The whistle blew.  Brian won the face again and snapped the ball to Sean.  Another laser, right to him.  He snatched it out of the air and made a beeline for the goal.  He was too fast, too quick for Harrisburg.  He crossed mid-field again and ran straight for the goal.  The shot came out like a rocket.  The goalie didn’t have a chance. His second goal in less than a minute.  Play stopped.  Sean stopped to turn and head back to mid-field.  Steve Vaughn did not stop, however.  He had a fourteen-step jump and crosschecked Sean high, right to the head.  

The lights went out.

Sean’s head snapped violently to the left.  His feet left the ground.  His gloves flew off and he landed on his left side.  He did not move.  Several things happened at once.  Tom Ryan grabbed the back of Steve’s jersey, and slammed him to the ground.  Tom began punching him like he was a human jackhammer.  Several Harrisburg players pulled Tom off Steve.  Michelle and Stacy covered their mouths with their hands in shock.

Sandy stood up.  “No!  No!” she said.  She feared he was dead.  Bill and Bob got out of the truck and walked to the edge of the fence.

Sean was still unconscious. 

Brian ran over to his friend and got down on his hands and knees.  “You OK, buddy?  You OK?”  Sean did not respond.  Brian put his hand on Sean’s shoulder. 

“DON’T MOVE HIM!  DON’T TOUCH HIM!”  Michelle yelled, as she bounded down the bleachers.  She vaulted the fence and sprinted across the field.  The players from both teams surrounded Sean.  Brian ran back to his duffel and pulled out his radio.

“This is Officer Brian Ippolito!  I need an ambulance and a patrol car at Shadyside Prep!”  The dispatcher acknowledged the request.  Both were on the way.  Brian ran back to Sean.  Michelle was on her knees trying to bring Sean around.

“She put her ear to his facemask.  Remarkably, his helmet was still on.  “Thank god!  He’s breathing!” she shouted back to Brain.

“Sean!  Sean!  Wake up!  Wake up!” she got no response.  Brian kneeled down next to him.  Tom Ryan was rubbing his knuckles, still staring at Steve. 

The ambulance and the Pittsburgh Police arrived simultaneously.  The grounds keeper, Tony, opened the fence and let the ambulance onto the field.  Two large cops headed straight to Brian.  The EMTs jumped out of the ambulance and jogged over to Michelle.  They both knew her.

“What happened?” the first EMT asked, bending down, looking at Sean.

“He was blindsided, hit in the head,” Brian answered.  The two Pittsburgh cops stood behind him.

“We need a board.”  Both EMTs ran back to ambulance and came back with a backboard.

“Careful.  Careful.”  Michelle cautioned the EMTs. 

Sandy was still standing.  She was dialing her phone and calling a number she dreaded.  Robert Waters picked up on the first ring.

“What is it?”

“Number two is down,” she said.

“What do you mean down?” he asked with impatience.

“He is being placed on a backboard.  He’s unconscious.” 

Waters sighed. “This program is shut down.  You are to leave Pittsburgh immediately and be in Boston by Monday.”  He hung up.  

Sandy looked towards Bill and Bob.  They were looking at Bob’s phone.  Bob put it to his ear and motioned for Bill to get in the truck.

It was Waters.  Bob and Bill closed the door to the truck.  “This project has ended.  You both are tasked with taking care of loose ends.  Make sure number two never wakes up.  I am sending you help.  You need to eliminate Sandy as well.  She cannot leave Pittsburgh.”

“I understand, but we don’t need help.”  Bob said.

“You do.  She is more dangerous than you know.  I am cleaning up this mess before it explodes in my face.”  He hung up.

Sandy looked at her iPhone.  She tried to call Bill and Bob.  Her phone was now out of service.  “Shit,” she said to herself.  She took one more look at Sean being placed on the board and watched Bill and Bob roaring way in the truck.

She bounded down the bleachers to her bike.  She knew this could have happened at anytime. It was one of the reasons she had to watch him so closely.  Three things could happen.  One, Sean would never wake up.  He would die.  Two, Sean would wake up a vegetable. 

Three is what they all feared.  Total recall.  Sean would wake up.  He would remember everything.  He would know it all.  Instantly, he would become a threat.  A threat they would have to neutralize.  Or try to neutralize.

The EMTs were rolling Sean onto the board very slowly.  The group held their collective breaths.  Sean was now on his back.  He had not regained consciousness.  The EMTs did not want to risk removing his helmet.  They pulled out small electric drills and began removing his facemask.  They got it off and threw it to the side.  Tom picked it up and held it, staring at his friend.  They lifted Sean and started moving to the ambulance.  Michelle followed them and got into the ambulance.  They placed him on a gurney, strapped him down and cut away his jersey and compression shirt.  Heart monitors were placed on his chest and an IV was started.  Michelle looked at the heart monitor.  His heart was strong.  His blood pressure looked good.  She held his hand.  The ambulance started off the field and made the short trip to UPMC.

The two cops turned to Brian.  Both were huge and dwarfed him.  They had their hands on their belts. 

“I want you to put the cuffs on that guy,” Brian said nodding towards Steve Vaughn.

“On what charge?  You guys were playing a game,” one of them said to Brian.  The Harrisburg players were visibly nervous.  The Pittsburgh guys wanted their blood.

“Assault!  What he did transcends this game,” Brian said putting his index finger into the other cop’s chest. 

The two cops briefly looked at each other.  One shrugged.

“You got it.”  The two cops walked towards Steve, who was trying to staunch the blood pouring from his nose. His mouth was split open.  One of the cops reached behind his back and produced a set of handcuffs.

“You’re under arrest.  Assault,” the cop said in a booming baritone.   Steve put his hands behind his back.  He apparently knew the drill.

“Wait!  Wait!  I’m a lawyer.  What is going on?   We were playing a game,” a smarmy Harrisburg attack-man said walking forward as they were slapping the cuffs on Steve.  The other cop turned towards him.
 

“I am sure you are.  All you guys are big important punk lawyers or doctors, ri
ght,” he laughed.  The lawyer took a breath.  He was a bit of a punk.

“Look at his face!  Who was assaulted?” the guy asked.  The cops looked at Steve’s face, and turned towards Brian.

“What happened to his face?”  The cop asked, looking Brian’s way.

“We didn’t see nothin’!”  Tom Ryan shouted.

“Good enough for me.”  The cop pushed Steve towards the car.  The second cop stopped in front of Brian and whispered,

“You know this is not going to stick.”

“Yeah, but thanks for doing it,” Brian acknowledged.  The referees walked towards Brian.

“We starting back up?” one asked.

“No.  That’s a bad idea.”

Brian told them thanks and walked over to Andrew and his squad.

“Andrew, the game is over.”

“I understand, Brian.  I am sorry about today.”

“That guy is not welcome here ever again! Tell your guys that they had better not speed until they hit the city limits,” Brian said, pointing at Steve and looking over at the rest of the group.

“They going to hold him?” Andrew asked.

“No.  Send that prick lawyer over there downtown.”

“Will you make a call for us?

“No.”  Brian turned and jogged back to the team. 

‘I am heading over to UPMC,” he said to the Pittsburgh squad grabbing his stuff and running to the Jeep.

“We’ll be there!” Tom shouted. 

Amazingly, the Jeep started on the first turn of the key.  Brian backed up and took off for the hospital.

Sandy was on the bike heading back to the duplex.  She took an indirect route.  Something didn’t seem right.  Her phone was not working.  She dumped the bike a block away and walked between houses until she had a clear view of the duplex.  Crouching down behind a hedge, she could see Bill and Bob in the big window on the second floor.  There were two more men she did not recognize in another car out front.  They were dressed like they were FBI, but they weren’t.  Sandy knew the look.  They were killers.  Assassins.  Just looking at them, she knew she was in trouble.  She sprinted back to the bike and threw the phone into a storm drain.  Keeping it would be foolish.  They could easily track her. She hopped on the bike and furiously pedaled on back streets heading towards Walnut Street. 

She stopped briefly in the parking garage behind the shops on Walnut Street, and then pedaled to the top of the structure. She sat on the bike.  She thought.  She thought some more.  She realized she was as good as dead if she sat still.  What was their next move?  What would they do?  She knew Bill and Bob were not bright.  She didn’t know about the other two. She had never seen them before, but she knew the type.  They would take care of the easy work first.  They would kill Sean.  It was easy as long as he was out cold.  Then they would try to find her.  They would assume she was going back to Boston as she was told.  Would they get her at the airport?  Would they shoot her from a distance on the way up US 60?  They could get her in Boston.  She wasn’t going to make it easy for them.