Ch 12: Mission Impossible
Disclaimer: Dun own PR!
East Wind—was actually an inn, near the coast where the lighthouse stood proudly like a sea guardian. Jack brought nothing with him except for R.I.C. He was too devastated and disappointed by Sydney—his fiancée, his wife-to-be. Jack rubbed his face and realized that he was crying.
Memories flashed in his mind again and again. Jack stared at the cruiser's windshield, breathing hard. He was defying direct orders by carrying out this mission alone. Not that he even bothered now. R.I.C. sat on the passenger's seat, quiet but alert.
When Jack hit the Shore Road, he turned right, toward the East Wind Inn and the lighthouse. A crescent moon hung suspended in the midnight sky. Jack pressed on the gas and stepped out.
The lighthouse blinked on the headland, just a quarter mile beyond the inn. The beam flashed beneath dark nimbus clouds.
The last clue he received led him to the beach but what could he find on a beach.
XXX
Sky stared helplessly at Sydney who had thrown herself onto the floor, sobbing. Hot tears flooded her eyes as she crouched in a corner. Sky was conscious of a bitter sensation seeping through him like poison. Oh god, what had he done?
At the same time, realization dawned on him. Sydney must have regained part of her memory. Sky moved to touch Sydney, feeling the need to hold her in his warm, protective arms.
Sydney backed against the wall. When he tried again, she writhed like a worm caught on a fishing hook, sharp cries of distress breaking from her throat.
"Syd," Sky offered his hand gently, "at least come back inside, you will catch a cold like this."
"No! Sky. Leave me alone, just leave me… "
"Syd!" Sky carried her into the warmth of the building despite her hapless shouts throughout the hallway. He ignored the watchful eyes of the passersby, the cadets. Damn, he was going to lose respect like this.
"Syd, do me a favor and do yourself a favor—please, stop struggling and you can scold or hang me if you later. Just hush for another minute."
XXX
Jack noticed the sandy clay road had a few fresh tire tracks, probably from the lighthouse's caretaker. There were always things to repair in buildings close to the sea. "R.I.C., buddy, try picking out Miranda's scent." Jack said, holding Miranda's perfume to R.I.C.'s sensor.
Although it was dark now, the beam from the distant lighthouse flashed across the sky, helping Jack finds his way. The wind was blowing so hard. The beacon flashed overhead, telling her she'd come to the right place; that this was the end of the road.
R.I.C. barked excitedly and headed towards the lighthouse.
Jack walked around the lighthouse once. The white tower gleamed in a slice of moonlight. His foot crunched on glass; looking up, he tried to see if one of the windows had broken. He noticed there were more shards of glass at one particular corner.
Waves smashed against the rocks below, sending spray skyward.
Jack ran to the lighthouse door. Looking straight up, he saw the white tower rise overhead.
"Miranda?" he called, breathless. The lighthouse walls were thick white concrete blocks. No sound could possibly get through. R.I.C. couldn't be wrong, something was amiss. But what would Qudamah be doing at a lighthouse?
Jack shook the door, crashed into it with his shoulder and banged the latch. It was solid, locked tight with steel plates—the lock and plates massive, industrial, and impenetrable. Jack loses his balance and scrambled to his feet.
The rusty latch popped. Jack climbed six levels of flight. Twenty steps up, he came to another door. Like the first it was locked, and he used the Swiss knife he gotten from Sky on the rusty hinges. This one, too, broke open.
When Jack edged the big wooden door open, he found herself standing in a small anteroom. Light came in here: the bright occulting flash from the beacon.
"Miranda?" Jack called again.
"I'm right here."
When he looked down, Jack saw clumps of old, wet sawdust on the stairs. And when he looked up, there, camouflaged against the narrow and shadowed section of the tower just below the lens, just one story above, was a wooden box.
R.I.C. stopped in front of a wooden box at a dark corner. No one would have notice a box here.
"Are you in the box?" Jack knocked on the box.
"Yes! Jack? Have you come to rescue me?" Miranda's weak voice came out from within the box.
"Where's Qudamah?" Jack asked; his hands never stopped moving, struggling with the thick locks.
The lock unyields.
Miranda looked disheveled as if she hadn't bathed for so long and she looked very shagged.
"Can you make it down, Miranda?"
Jack had so many questions he needed answered but all that could wait. He helped Miranda out slowly. "Is Qudamah nearby?" Jack didn't want to risk any of their lives. If Qudamah was nearby—they weren't safe.
Miranda shook her head weakly. "Nope, there isn't anyone, just me. Qudamah got his men to put me here and they escaped to somewhere else already."
"Damn Qudamah. He used you as his escape route. All this and he were just trying to divert my attention. Any idea where his next destination be?" Jack piggyback Miranda as if she was weightless.
"Nope. I was drugged the whole time."
XXX
Jack was going to leave S.P.D. for the second time already. He was more determined than ever to leave this time without a word of goodbye. Their chopper had arrived. Miranda and the rest of the men boarded the chopper.
"C'mon Jack," one of the men called. Miranda peered out of the window, staring at Jack's forlorn back.
He stared at the tall building, where he once stayed and fell in love with—Sydney Drew and had his heartbroken as well, from the same person and the last person he had expected.
Sky, who had treated him like archenemies from the beginning and had fought in combats as allies a long time ago. Everything was gone within a night. It wasn't going to be the same for him, for them and for the both of them. It's the end of their story. With one last look, Jack stepped up the chopper and left, without a word.
XXX
TBC-Pls R&R! Thnks