Operation (7 page)

What the fuck is going on?

He kept his gun pointed at them as his finger began to gently apply pressure to the trigger. He stopped: if he fired his weapon, it would give away his location. Was it worth it to get rid of this odd but unthreatening discovery? No, he decided. No, it wasn’t. He needed to get up to the roof.

The two girls just stared at him and then they turned toward each other as if they were talking to one another, but he heard no words.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

The two girls looked back toward him. “Waiting,” the older girl said in a voice that showed no emotion whatsoever.

“Waiting for what?” he asked.

As Jonsey waited for an answer, he continued to observe them. It was difficult to make out much in the green glow, but he could tell they were filthy. They were both covered with smudges of dark dirt and their hair looked as if it was matted with mud. They had similar facial and hair characteristics, which made him think that they were possibly related to one another. They were dressed alike, in what looked like some form of coveralls, but they were so dirty he couldn’t be sure.

“I said, what are you waiting for?” Jonsey repeated.

“Waiting for this to be over,” the older girl said. “They will be here soon.”

It finally came to Jonsey what was wrong. The reaction of the girls wasn’t right. They weren’t scared or nervous. They were just sitting there as calm as they could be; waiting for someone or something to happen.

“Is he the last one?” the younger girl asked the older one, speaking for the first time.

“Yes, he is the last one,” the older one answered, as she slowly stood and faced Jonsey.

Jonsey felt his finger automatically tighten on the trigger as he faced the young girl. Now that she was standing, he could see that she had something around her neck, a metal band of some sort that looked like a collar. There was also something else that he saw but didn’t understand. Her eyes glowed red. There was nothing in this room that could have caused the color to be reflected in her eyes. He didn’t like it as she just stood there facing him, her eyes glowing. 

He also didn’t like the way she looked at him. For some reason, he found her gaze intimidating. He decided that he had had enough of this mystery. There was no time for any of this. His finger tightened around the trigger, even as the girl in front of him blurred for a second, confusing him as to what was happening. Before he even thought about what he had just seen, she returned to normal. Suddenly he felt an unusual surge of warmth at his throat, followed by a wet feeling. As he raised his free hand to feel what had caused the sudden warmth, his sense of smell recognized it: the sweet smell of blood, spilling freely.

In a heartbeat, he knew the blow had been fatal. He could smell his own death, but it didn’t scare him. He had been around it so much, usually by his own hand, that it felt comforting, like a long lost friend. During what he considered to be his illustrious career, he had discovered that most of the men he killed, when faced with the realization they were going to die, did not possess any sense of rationalization. Their words and phrases were irrational and at times incoherent, focusing on how they just saw their lives ending. For him, the realization that he had succumbed so easily to an obviously planned deception did bother him. He had always thought he would die in the throes of a fierce battle of overwhelming odds. Instead, he had fallen to someone like himself: an assassin. 

The blood flowed freely from his neck. He could feel it saturating his clothing. The world was beginning to turn gray: the entryway to death. He looked at the girl and wondered how she had done it. He saw no weapon, but her hand dripped a dark liquid. His eyes followed the outline of her hand: it looked as if she had dunked her fingers into a can of red paint. As he continued down to her fingertips, he saw that her nails on her hand had become very long, several inches in length. It became obvious to him that she had opened his neck like a bag of potato chips with those talons. But how?

There was no time for questions now, he thought. He had to be rational in the last few seconds of his life. He could think of only one thing: how he would go out of the world he despised so much, leaving it to the soft pudgy creatures who were bound to fuck it up by being so God-damned politically correct. No, that wouldn’t do; not at all. He summoned all of his remaining control and fired his weapon into the young girl who had brought about his death.

He managed to get off three shots which he clearly saw enter her chest. He felt her blood splatter on the side of his face. He wiped at it with the back of his hand, yet a curious burning sensation remained. He didn’t care. Why should he? He was going to die anyway.

He watched as the momentum of the bullets forced her to stumble backward until she slammed into the wall. Then, she slowly slid down the wall to a sitting position. For the first time since he had seen this girl, Jonsey finally saw a look of surprise on her face and the feeling of success flowed through him. He smiled. The gun dropped from his hand, hitting the floor with a resounding thud. As his last bit of strength left him, he took a step toward the girl and then fell to the floor.

When he opened his eyes, he assumed that he had blacked out for a second from the forcefulness of the impact because the blood had continued to flow from his neck and had barely begun to pool on the floor. Lying there on the floor, he turned his head to the side to gloat over the girl’s body, which he expected to see slouched down in the sitting position next to the wall. There wasn’t any body. Had he imagined shooting her? Had he been delirious? No, he had shot her—he was sure. Then where the hell was her body?
The bitch did not just get up and walk away after receiving three 9mm slugs to the chest—I saw her hit the wall and go down—point blank heart shots. What the fuck is going on?

He felt something touch his skin, a breath of air, but a heavy breath, which stank of something sour. He rolled his head back, expecting to see the ceiling of the room, but instead saw that her face was only inches from his. She was standing over him, glaring at him. Her eyes were a deeper red now and her teeth had elongated, hanging over the edge of her lips. His first thought was that she looked like an animal—an angry animal. He voided his bowels into his clothing, and he didn’t care—he was too scared.

His eyes searched her chest for the three spots where he thought he had seen the bullets enter. There was blood in the fabric of her clothing near the corresponding holes, but what was happening didn’t make sense to him. The holes were slowly closing up as if he were watching a video played in reverse. He was convinced he had truly gone mad or that he had already died and was starting his term in hell.

His eyes were drawn to the neck of the girl. What he had thought looked like a cloth neckband or collar before he saw now was something much sturdier. He thought it was made out of some sort of metal, like slaves or prisoners had worn in earlier times. There were two protrusions from it, one on each side. He thought he could see something within them, possibly a liquid of some kind—but he wasn’t sure. What function the collar served he had no idea—and he didn’t think it mattered.  

“Who are you?” he said. His voice gurgled from the blood in his mouth, and streams of blood exited his mouth and dripped down the sides of his face.

“You are not a nice man,” she said, her voice sounding deep, very deep. Her breathing was heavy, like an animal that had labored arduously.

This is not a little girl,
he thought,
but something else—something not human.

“You’re evil and deserve to die. Not like the others that we have killed tonight,” she said.

“Who are you?” he repeated.

As he waited for an answer, the sight of the girl leering over him faded into nothingness. As she vanished into the darkness, Jonsey died, feeling defeated.

The young girl remained standing over the man’s body for several seconds. Her breathing slowed as her anger dissipated. Now calmer, she appeared to be contemplating the dead man’s question, somehow feeling that she owed him an answer.

“I don’t know,” she said in a soft voice, which sounded normal for her age. “I don’t know what I am.”

Chapter Four

Lights flickered into life in the building as the two girls sat quietly on the floor. The older girl held the younger one in her arms and slowly rocked her as if trying to sooth her. The sound of men entering the building, the thumping sound of heavy boots on the wood floor, came to their ears. They didn’t move, but remained seated, as if they were expecting the arrival of the men.

Four men entered the room. They wore military uniforms, but these men also had something covering the areas of exposed skin from head to toe, especially the neck and facial areas. Others waited in the hall outside the room. One of the men stepped forward and stared at the girls for several seconds, then went over to the body on the floor. He knelt down and checking for life, then stood back up.

“Secure,” said one of the men into a tiny microphone near his mouth.

Moments later, another man entered the room. Unlike the others, he did not wear the clothing that covered the skin as the other men and he carried no weapon. He walked over to the man that had spoken earlier into the microphone.

“All confirmed kills?”

“Yes, General. Five confirmed kills.”

The general smiled. He looked at the dead man’s body on the floor and then he approached the girls.

“I watched you in action,” he said as he pointed toward the ceiling. In the corner, a small camera silently swept the room back and forth. “You were told to kill him quickly,” he said to the older of the two girls. “By waiting, you might have caused more harm to yourself. You were lucky he didn’t kill you.”

“Lucky?” she said in a voice that was too full of cynicism for her age. “If this is what life has in store for my sister and me, then death may be better.”

The general’s smile quickly vanished. “Remember our little talk,” he said. His voice was low and threatening. “Your sister will suffer if you don’t do as you are told.” His hand moved toward his pocket and removed a remote control device. He held it up in front of her. “Do we need to remind you?”

“No,” she said, her voice fighting to sound regretful.

“Good, good,” he said, placing the device in his pocket, the sharp edge of his voice slowly fading away. “Even considering your hesitancy tonight, you still did very well, but I know you can kill more efficiently, as you did with the homeless man at the beach a few weeks ago.”

“I felt pity for that poor man. He had done nothing to me. I knew I had no choice but to kill him so I made it quick and as painless as possible. This one,” she said, pointing to Jonsey’s body, “was just an evil man that enjoyed killing. If he suffered, it was of his own doing.”

“I see,” the general said, eyeing her cautiously. “Still, you neutralized five targets, one of which was one of our best.” He glanced toward Jonsey’s body. “His skills were well-developed and he was dependable in accomplishing his tasks. He was just getting a little too risky to keep around anymore.”

He turned his attention back to the girls.

“You have done well and I have good news for you. Because you have proven yourself in our little test, we are moving you to a new home. You will have a lot of room and be much more comfortable.”

“And these?” she said, touching her collar and wincing in pain.

“You know you can’t touch them,” the general said. “If you do, the poison will be released and you will die a horrible death. You must remember that.”

“I will,” she said. “I will remember many things from now on.” Her voice was full of hatred and contempt.

“Do I detect an attitude problem?” he said. His hand disappeared into his pocket. The older girl tensed as she prepared for the result of her insubordinate statement. Instead though, the younger girl who she still held in her arms jumped. She screamed as her body was wracked with severe and painful spasms

“Stop!” the older one cried. “Stop. I will do as I am told!”

The general moved his hand within his pocket.

The little girl’s body stilled and the older girl caressed her gently, trying to soothe her.

“Now, I hope we are clear about the consequences of your actions. You may not suffer but she will. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” the older girl said without looking at him. “I understand.”

“Good. Then if there is nothing else, we need to clean up and move you to your new quarters. The sun will be up shortly. You need to get your rest. We have some busy times ahead of us. Some catching up to do, so to speak.”

The general turned and motioned for the one of the men to follow him outside into the hall. Once in the hall the general spoke, “Move them carefully. Never trust them. Never turn your back on them. You’ve seen how fast they can be. Never speak near them because they can hear much better than you or I. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Always follow the two-man rule protocols. Never allow all of the guards to be in one area with them. The older one will kill without any remorse now that I have pushed her into a corner. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dispose of Jonsey’s body as I suggested—take him into the Ocean View area and leave him on the beach. With the suspicion of his drug affiliation leaked to the press, it will appear as if his buddies broke him out and then killed him. They were worried he might talk to save his ass. Make sure you leave some drugs lying around the scene as well.”

“Sir?” the man asked.

“What?”

“But he’s a SEAL. Don’t you think it will look strange that he didn’t fight?”

“Put the shackles and cuffs back on him. That should even the score enough so it won’t look suspicious.”

 “Yes, sir.”

“And make sure you clean him up. He has some of her blood on him and if was tested, it would add a mystery where we don’t want one. The rest of the men that picked him up are to be killed in a training accident here when you blow up this building. Understood?”