Chapter 7
It was like a waiter in a tranquil restaurant had just dropped a tray of crockery. Erin and Young stood there, motionless, immobile, paralysed in the darkness. Decker sat on the bed staring at the repeating tormenting message that illuminated the screen. Decker always wondered how long they could evade the people that trained him. A third booming knock rippled through the deadly silence making all three of them jump with shock. Young's silhouette stood next to the bed, Erin's bag still in his hand dangling by his knees. His eyes were wide and bright like an alerted gazelle. Erin's silhouette shook with pure fear against the ghostly blowing net curtains.
"OPEN UP!" the voice commanded sounding artificial and unnatural. Young came to his senses and felt for the small pistol that Erin kept in her bag. He threw the bag to the floor whipping out the pistol and firing randomly at the doorway. The bullets bit violently through; punching marble sized holes into the wooden door that cracked and splintered. Screams were heard from downstairs, Decker darted up from the bed throwing the laptop to the floor, which still scrolled the teasing message. Cursing quietly Decker fiddled with his bag trying to find his sidearm.
"Out the windows! Now!" Young shouted turning around.
"They're barred!" came a whimpered cry from Erin who was pulling at the windows underneath the net curtains.
"What?" Young cried puzzled.
"They've got FUCKING SAFETY BARS OVER 'EM!" Erin screamed hysterically climbing the ornate barred grills that covered the bay window.
"WHAT THE FUCK!" Young screamed angrily throwing his hands up in the air. Decker found his weapon and scrambled across the bed to aid Young.
The door was violently kicked in; it swung wildly on its hinges embedding the rounded doorknob into the plastered wall. A single man stood in the doorway, nearly the same height as the doorframe, standing around six foot six; he was dressed in a black suit, which was dotted with bullet holes from Young's gun, a white shirt, and a thin black tie. Decker emptied his pistol at the man who reeled back with the force of each bullet, but still, he stood.
"Fuck me." Decker exclaimed standing in awe trying to reload his sidearm. The Man In Black walked into the room and grabbed Decker around his cheeks, squeezing his jaw with a massive hand that engulfed Decker's small head. Decker let out a muffled whimper as the man's palm squashed against Decker's nose and his thick fingers pushed Decker's cheeks against his back teeth with his clamp-like grip.
Young grabbed the metallic up-lighter from the corner of the room, he smashed off the saucer end that held the bulb and cried like a wild man. Young charged at the Man In Black using the up-lighter like a lance, spearing the man in the stomach. The M.I.B. made no noise as Young rammed the smashed end hard into his gut. Decker was dropped as the man let go of Decker's sore face and held onto the other end of the up-lighter in an attempt to dislodge it from his stomach. Using all his strength Young pushed the M.I.B. out onto the landing. Decker picked up his pistol and fired past Young hitting the Man In Black squarely in the shoulder three times.
The Man In Black lost his balance and reeled backwards, falling over the balcony and toppling down to the lobby. He hit the floor below hard, landing head and shoulders first. The man's neck vertebrae punched up through the base of his skull and split his spinal cord. A small signal that was continuously relayed from the brain to a self-termination device was severed. It was like taking a pin out of a grenade and letting go of the lever, the self-destruction device was activated. The body convulsed violently on the tiled floor below.
Young warily stood back from the banister he spotted the elongated shadows of the Majestic Twelve troops against the wall of the narrow staircase wind around the corner of the first floor. An explosion erupted from downstairs illuminating the hotel in a burning white flash. The shockwave of the blast rumbled throughout the building shattering all the hotel windows and rocking everyone off their feet. A ball of smoke plumed up from the lobby in a dirty grey mushroom cloud.
Decker's eardrums had burst from the sheer sound blast and hot congealed blood oozed out of his ears. He sat up slowly from the doorway of the apartment, choking on the smoke. He watched totally disorientated as the bright-oxygenated blood dripped from his nose covering the carpet in several dark circular spots in between his legs. Young, face bright red, had rose shakily to his feet and leaned over checking the foyer floor. The MJ12 troopers were in a pile at the bottom of the narrow stairs that lead upstairs to the second floor, scrambling for their weapons. Young seized the opportunity and fired wildly at the heap of moving bodies.
Suddenly the second floor landing was pelted and peppered from underneath with bullets that bit and splintered through the thin floor. Three Majestic Twelve commandos stood next to the smoking crater left in the tiled floor by the explosive Man In Black firing upwards from their gauntlet mounted machine guns. Part of the balcony was disintegrated with the ferocity of the firepower.
Erin scrambled past Decker to aid Young, who was curled in a ball on the landing, hands over his ears protecting himself from the loud fiery chattering of the guns. She was screaming with anger, firing down at the approaching group of MJ12 troops who had managed to creep up to the brink of the second floor stairs. Decker still sitting in shock looked at his bloodied hands shaking rapidly. He heard a mumble and looked up, Erin was screaming and beckoning Decker with her hand, face red and mouth snarling. Decker picked himself up and staggered over. Young was back on his feet shooting at the MJ12 troopers, who were retreating back down the stairs awaiting the heavily armoured MJ12 commandos arrival.
Young ran down the landing and started to run up to the third floor. Decker did not follow he fiddled with his bag and pulled out a LAM, he activated it and hid it on the small wooden skirting board next to their door. Young ran back and pulled him away and they both went up a level. The other tenants were scattering back into their rooms, slamming and locking the doors tight, hysterically shrieking.
"IT'S CLEAR! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!" the commandos shouted as they reached the second floor landing. "Proceed to the third floor." They instructed. A searing flash followed by a rippling boom shook the second floor rooms as the LAM was triggered. The door of room twenty-eight disintegrated firing out a lethal ball of splintering shards of shrapnel. A small ball of flame and smoke scorched the surroundings. The blast wave threw the oncoming MJ12 troops backwards and some were catapulted sideways through the posted balcony rail scattering their burnt carcasses across the lower floor. The shaking explosion overpowered the screams of the troopers. Young, Decker, and Erin ran up the tight cornering stairs and then across the upper floor.
Young stopped, stopping the other two as the third floor landing ended with an abrupt stop and was replaced by an elevator door. Young kicked in the door of the closest room, it was empty. They wedged the door with the portable television cabinet and entered the small bathroom. Young shot out the window, Decker and Erin looked at him. "GO!" Young screamed. Erin looked with fear and Decker with bewilderment.
"Climb out of a third storey window! You fucking mad?" Erin said.
"D'ya wanna get shot? Get out the window!" Young said seriously.
Decker looked out of the broken window, down the four-storey drop. Below was the back alleyway with the hotel dumpster directly underneath. Decker's legs shook intensely; he felt all the blood drain from his face and his brain kept reminding him about the rule of acceleration. Nine point eight, one, two, seven, four metres per second, the speed that Decker would accelerate to the floor. He kicked out the remaining glass from the frame and clambered out the window trying to find the top of the second floor window as a foothold.
He clambered down each floor stopping every time a sudden breeze whistled passed. His hands were getting sweaty and slippery and the strength was leaving his arms. Before his knew it the rules of acceleration were put into action. His breath left his body as he fell, landing backside first, crumpling into the overflowing garbage bags and cardboard boxes. It was like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his back, which was dotted with blood from the shards of broken bottle. Young cursed as he picked out his semi conscious body and flopped him over the edge of the bin; there was no time for sympathy. With one arm over Young's shoulder they hobbled down the alleyway and out onto the street.
They made it down the corner of the street, a saloon car raced down the road and screeched outside where the three hobbled. A shadowed face emerged from behind the driver's seat it was Jacques the arms dealer.
"Get in!" he said through the window of the vehicle. Young sighed in relief and Decker was placed carefully in the back. Henri Rota was also in the car; he was in the back with a sawn-off shotgun between his legs scanning outside through the window. Decker groaned on his lap clutching his neck trying to rub away the sharp, teeth grinding tingling. The car's tires span and two doors slammed shut as Decker's body jerked further back on the seats.
The car sped off. Jacques never spoke just focused on the road ahead, speeding down the tree-lined street that was obstructed with parked cars. "Is every one alright?" Jacques finally spoke, as they were a significant distance from the hotel. Young nodded, Erin also nodded, Decker groaned out a no. "Good" Jacques whispered, looking in the mirror at Decker. "Take the next left" Henri instructed, Jacques nodded. The trio were being taken back to a Silhouette hideout.
"Merde!" Henri screamed. There was a tremendous loud shattering sound and a tinny sound of automatic fire penetrating the metal doors coming from the right side. The car jerked and the tires screamed as it was pelted hard with gunfire. The car was flooded with fragments of glass and the smell of burning; Decker glanced up from his lying position, the streetlight pierced through the red bloodstain on the front windscreen. The saloon ploughed off the road and crunched into a doorway of a white building. The front airbags erupted cushioning the now dead Jacques and the passenger Young. Decker was hurtled into the backs of the front seats and lay in between the legs of Henri and Erin.
"Merde, MERDE! MERDE!" Henri cursed fiddling with the sawn-off shotgun. He fired two smoky shots off and opened the door flooding the car with night air. Erin dragged Decker by the feet out the car and then pulled Young out of the left side door. She screamed as she saw Young sitting back in his seat, his eyes blinking furiously on his powdered face. Jacque's body was slumped in the collapsed airbag bloodstained and dripping. The chattering of fire restarted as a sentry robot, a Bravo-3 Peacebringer, bounded down the pavement, firing from the revolving mini-gun attached to its torso, which hung between its bouncing legs.
The tri-toed machine showered the car again with a hail of fire. Young fell out of the door and rolled on the floor, Henri fire aimlessly at the robot, screaming at them to leave. The building the car had hit was a deserted 17th Century house; the wooden double doors had been removed on impact so the trio ran inside as Henri tried to slow down the oncoming robot with his shotgun.
The house was spacious as it had been stripped bare in a riot. The white washed walls were now covered in black damp mould and had been vandalised with spray painted graffiti. Decker was still trying to shake of the shock of the car crash and Erin had turned pale, her eyes were once again wide and alert. They climbed the stairs waiting halfway for Henri to retreat into the house.
As Henri turned towards to doorway, a screeching whistle overpowered the sound of gunfire. The car exploded in a bright orange flash engulfing Henri in a ball of flames. The vehicle was thrown through the air crushing Henri's burnt corpse against the far wall. The flames entered the house rolling across the ceiling in a small flickering surge. The remains of the twisted vehicle grinded to a halt and sat like a blackened, broken eggshell across the road, pumping out thick, black, petrol-reeking smoke. The high-pitched whistle was heard again as a rocket-propelled explosive exploded against the doorway, shattering the double doors into matchwood. The stone doorway cracked as another impact drove into it illuminating the darkened corridors of the house.
A dark black van pulled up outside across the road and Majestic Twelve troops jumped out on to the street. The squadron poured out in groups of four, black helmets shining in the streetlights and flames. The three of them retreated upstairs as the screams of the instructing commandos and the trampling of feet got closer and entered the house. Searching torches flickered on piercing through the banisters on the stairs seeking out the fugitives.
Once again they were on the run, their thumping footsteps echoed, pursuing them as they ran past rows of empty raided rooms. Some rooms contained brown, squashy mattresses of the numerous squatters and bags and fragments of waste. The house they were hiding in was a layered with spacious oak floored rooms, and had miles of corridors. It was a labyrinth.
Although they had only been running for a few minutes Decker's legs now started to burn, his hamstrings felt like they were about to tear open, but he carried on the adrenaline allowing him to ignore the painful signs from his body, which was trying to prevent injury. Erin and Young who were fitter were a few metres ahead, Erin leading the way. Lactic acid was flooding into Decker's old muscles slowing him down by causing painful burning aches, it was like someone was putting lead weights on his legs but panic kept him going.
The trio ran through the corridors of the old abandoned 17th Century house, clobbering down the long warped floorboards, running from room to room, in the blue nightlight. The MJ12 troops were not far behind their pounding footsteps echoing down the house like a chasing wind. Erin climbed the staircase running ahead. Young awaited Decker who was desperately panting burning breaths.
"COME ON DECKS!" He let Decker in front of him while he checked the passage behind them, and then with his one hand firmly in Decker's back forcefully pushed him up the staircase. Every stumble Decker made, Young hoisted him to his feet and pushed him further up the winding staircase. Erin was at the top looking over the wooden posted banister. She looked down the eternal flights and grabbed Decker's exhausted body and pulled him up the final steps. Young kicked the fire escape door inwards and they all entered the final stairwell.
The MJ12 footsteps got nearer, tailing the fugitives like a preying shark. They were halfway up the stairwell as the torch lights crept into the dark void at the bottom of the stairs. Shimmering helmets filled into the darkness looking like black crabs on a seabed. The torches lifted up and a volley of fire chattered upwards rattling through the metal staircase. Young returned fire from his pistol and the troops retreated to the safety of the doorway. Erin pushed the safety bar on the old fire door and the night air and noise burst into the musty stairwell. She ran out onto the roof. Decker grabbed Young away from the edge of the stairs and pushed him out the fire exit. Young beckoned him with his hand as Erin ran off into the distance. Decker fired down into the blackness then stepped outside.
As the night air hit Decker's lungs, he suddenly sensed something was not right, something was wrong, it niggled him in his mind. Decker felt dizzy, his head felt light and his vision was moving in slow motion. Young shouted muffled, Decker winced as he tried to work out what was said. Decker's tried to run but his legs were heavy. He could not breathe properly, a slight tightness grasped around the centre off his chest.
Decker tried to keep with Young but it was like he was being held back by something. Young dragged Decker behind an old chimneystack.
"Decker…………u…….kay?" Decker could see Young was shouting but it only sounded like a whisper. Decker took in a deep, exhausted breath and fell back against the chimneystack. A vomit taste rose in his mouth, polluting his tongue, as the bile flooded into his throat. Decker looked up at Young whose face had gone from a painful tired wince tp wide-eyed concern. Decker felt cold, sweat dribbled down the sides of his temples and itched his stubbly beard. Suddenly his left arm fell limp and the grip on his pistol loosened. The compressing pressure returned in his chest and his breaths turned wheezy. Decker's jaw locked and a sharp pain crawled across his back. Decker was having a heart attack. Young slapped his cheeks gently as Decker's eyes rolled around in their sockets.
"Go……leave me……" Decker gasped wincing form the pain. Erin had returned and she stared down at Decker with big tearful eyes. "GO!" Decker croaked wheezy. Young nodded and winked at Decker placing the gun in Decker's right hand. Young picked him to his feet and propped him against the chimney.
"Thanks…See you again my friend." Young whispered then turned and ran dragging the shaken Erin with him. Decker clutched his chest and threw his body around the corner. He slumped to one knee, aiming at the doorway and waited. Decker closed his eyelids and let the cold sweat dribble off his eyelashes. He waited. The ripping pain blurred his thoughts as he tried to concentrate at the doorway. He quickly glanced over his shoulder and saw two silhouettes in the distance on a lower roof running far.
"They'll make it." Decker thought. There was a squealing whistle Decker looked back at the doorway. Like a death angel a commando rose from in between the stairwell hovering in his vision.
"I have a visual lock." The MJ12 commando growled through its insect like visor. The two machine guns erupted from the rhombus shaped arms like fiery snake tongues. Decker fired two inaccurate shoots that embedded themselves into the door and sidewall. MJ12 troops crept up the stairwell hiding in the commando's shadow that continually fired at the locked target.
Decker's body was suddenly punchered and riddled from the mounted machine guns; the impact threw him down to the gravelled rooftop. Decker could not move, he lay there looking upwards at the sky in shock eyes. Then the pain hit, in his chest, a constant hammering pain, his heart had been ripped open from the bullet, Decker could hear the desperate rubbery beats thumping in his head. There was a fluttering in his chest like a deflating balloon, it was his cardiac muscles trying to squeeze blood through his severed pulmonary artery as his body went into a spasm. Panic hit instantaneously as the confusion became reality; he was dying. His chest heaved violently, not with breath but with the nervous sparks and jolty muscle spasms. He could not move or breath, tears rolled down Decker's wide doe eyes his mouth tried to scream out but his tongue had rolled back in his mouth and stopped any whimper.
Decker just lay there, body in a pulsating in shock. It was like someone had pulled the plug on his bodies system only his brain had not done it and it was trying to work out why nothing worked. The burning metallic blood rose quickly filling Decker's throat and mouth, his body was drowning itself. His eyes started trying to roll back. Decker heard muffled steps as the MJ12 troops stormed past. Dropping in and out of death Decker looked up at the padded leg of the MJ12 commando.
"He's bleeding out." Came the distant voice from behind the mask. "Terminating target."
A glaring flash, a fiery crack followed with a sharp electric crackle that shot through Decker's brain opening up the back of his head like someone putting their foot through a water melon. Decker felt no more sensations. He did not even have time to blink. His body lay on the roof; eyes still fixed open around a depressed fist sized hole. The grey hairs on what was left of his head blew gently in the breeze.
Decker was officially retired.
End.
Matthew Wragg