Christin Solomon
Chapter 37-Clinging for Dear Life
A/N: I only got one review So thank you to Lemonn-Limee. I really appreciate it. Please everyone who usually reviews. I love it when you review but if you're not going to, what's the point of updating and keeping this story going? I'm not trying to sound like I live off reviews but it's just not fun if you don't. Please enjoy.
Christin's POV
I looked around at the cell made of steel, maybe titanium. The door was probably four inches thick and there wasn't a door knob on the inside, and then again, when is there ever a door knob on the inside of a steely prison cell? Rosie wasn't in here and that worried me that this place was going to blow up when she released her fury. Standing up and leaning against the wall farthest away from the door, I tried to create an escape plan, but I drew up a blank. I've never really been held in this kind of an environment before or I already had information and knew how to get out. That might make me sound like I'm a bad spy, but with all do respect and modesty, I'm not.
"Knock knock," A voice echoed on the other side of the door. I got into fighting position, curling my fists and shifting my weight to the balls of my feet, ready to tackle, attack, or kill who ever was on the other side of that door.
"Don't try to strangle me Solomon, or I kill Newman," The voice threatened. They could be lying, but I wouldn't chance my friend's life. Suddenly, I heard a crunching sound like two heads colliding, an arm breaking, a gun clattering to the ground, and a two hundred pound body being thrown against a wall. The door opened to reveal Rosie. But her hair was dripping with a red liquid and there was a blood splatter a crossed her tank top. My hand instantly searched the back of her head for a wound but there wasn't one. I looked over at the knocked out guy and saw his bloody nose and cheek, it was his blood on her.
"Are you okay?" I demanded as she picked up the gun and stuck it behind her and covered it with her shirt.
"Why wouldn't I be?" I felt Rosie close off and go into protection mode and knew that if there was anything more dangerous then Rosie at the moment, we hadn't discovered it yet.
"Okay," I allowed her attitude to slide because I'm her best friend. The hallway was pure white without a mark on the pristine tile floor and I had that creepy hospital feeling. Wait, a hospital, oh, whoever kidnapped us is officially dead, no questions asked. Footsteps started making themselves known and Rosie and I sprinted in the other direction. There was an elevator or the stairs. Rosie didn't ask for my opinion, she went for the stairs. There was a sign that said we were on the sixth floor, delightful. My best friend headed upwards.
"Shouldn't we be heading down to the ground floor?" I asked sarcastically. Rosie didn't answer for a few moments before whispering, "Bad experiences," and I didn't question her choice further. We glanced in the window of the seventh floor door and my thoughts were correct, this was a hospital.
"Great," I cussed darkly as we shot for the eighth floor. We were half way up when a doctor opened the door.
"Hey, do you two know how to do a butterfly bandage? And why aren't you nurses in uniform?" He yelled. Rosie stopped automatically and glanced at me before looking extremely apologetic.
"Sorry, we're new. We're so lost it's not even funny. I know how to do a butterfly bandage. I'll be right there Dr. Clarkson," Rosie put on her best acting skills, looking confused and sorry and ready all at the same time. The doctor huffed and nodded before stalking back into the hall. We went into the hall and saw a door labeled Laundry. There were some clean scrubs and we put them on. Rosie's were a navy blue and mine were a pale blue. We exited and the room and spotted the doctor who had been so huffed up.
"Doctor Clarkson, where is the patient that needs the butterfly bandage?" Rosie asked gently. His head snapped up and he examined us inappropriately.
"Room 669," He informed, but leaned forward toward Rosie and whispered in her ear, "Don't take too long." She acted like she was flattered but I could see the dark fire in her eyes that knew four hundred and thirty three ways to kill him with his ball point pen and his tie. Moving through the crowded hall, we finally found Room 669. As we entered, a distressed cough came from a bed. An old man lay there, his white hair in a messy disarray like he didn't care anymore, his cheeks were hollow, and his skin ashen.
"We are here to change your wound," Rosie informed in a very professional voice. His patient information told us his name was Frank Olson.
"You two are new," He said without a doubt, both of us nodded.
"Well it's always good to see new faces in a place of death," Frank sighed and shook his head. The wound was on his shin and Rosie was treating it but stopped.
"Quite negative considering this place is where new life begins as well," His eyes took on a laughing light and Rosie finished with incredibly quick efficiency.
"I was in the Vietnam War, there were very rare positives there," He explained. I was ready to leave but Rosie obviously wasn't because a curios expression was on her face and it was like her ears were straining to hear every word.
"Shouldn't surviving be a positive?" Rosie asked, raising an eye brow. A weak smile spread a crossed his face and he shook his head.
"If you survive, it means you have to live with the dead," Frank told her. Rosie nodded and I knew her mind had flown to her parents.
"Did- Do you have a family?" Rosie continued with her questions which surprised me. Even when we were young, Rosie knew the answers, but now she didn't and she wanted too.
"Did, little lady, did, my wife's name was Rosanne," Rosie's eyes widened and she looked hungry for more, "She died with cancer ten years ago," Rosie seemed to already know this.
"Did you have any children?" Rose demanded eagerly and I wondered where she was going with this.
"Yes, two little girls, the oldest name was Janna, and the younger one was Pearl," Pieces started to fall into place but yet I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
"Janna was always a joy. She was happy and optimistic. She had a zest for life. Janna married a man named Shawn who was a good man. Twelve years ago they both went missing, but only a few weeks ago were they discovered dead," Rosie bit her lip and looked at him with a sudden ferocity.
"Did they have children?"
"Yes, Michael, Grant, and Rosie, Rosie was named after Rosanne but we all agreed it was just a little too old fashioned so we gave her something more modern," Frank's eyes became distant and looked like he was blinking back tears.
"I know," Rosie finally said. His eyes shot to her and widened considerably.
"How could you let them dump me and Grant at Aunt Pearl's feet?" Rose whisper yelled and Frank frowned. Those were the sad magic words. Frank was her grandfather and in turn, Rosie was his granddaughter.
"I didn't feel like I had a right to my grandchildren after your mother disappeared and I couldn't save her," Frank admitted and now Rose looked surprised.
"You still could've taken us in," She muttered and for once, I was allowed to glance into the pain that Rosie held.
"No, because this would've eventually happened," Frank continued. Rose looked at him and raised an eye brow.
"Rosie, little Rose, I'm dying," He told her and she shook her head quickly, refusing the words.
"You're being treated here," She told him.
"It doesn't mean I'm getting better . . . But I'm glad I had the chance to see my precious granddaughter's face one more time," He coughed and tried to act like he wasn't in pain. Rosie sat beside him and offered her hand, which he took.
"There is something I must tell you," Frank murmured meekly. Rosie nodded and squeezed his hand.
"You always thought I was a soldier in the Vietnam War, I wasn't," Rose's brow furrowed and he smiled slightly.
"I was spy,"
"No kidding." My friend replied sarcastically and he let out a weak laugh.
"Just like your father," He gasped and coughed and Rosie went to push an emergency button but he shook his head, "Tell . . . Grant . . . I said . . . hello and good bye . . . and that . . . I . . . love you both," Frank Anthony Johnson took his last breath. Rose brought his hand to her lips and kissed it before laying it down and standing up.
"I love you too," She answered and left with me on her heels. I wanted to wrap an arm around her and tell her it was going to be alright but Rosie hated being comforted because from her point of view, it would never help or fix anything, which was true, but it was still nice to know people cared from my point of view. Rosie entered the bathroom and I followed.
"Rosie, I-" But she cut me off, "We have a tale."
"How can you think of that right now? You just watched your grandfather die," I snapped and she smirked, holding back her emotions.
"I want to survive, even if that means living with the dead," She responded and exited the bathroom. I sighed, knowing she wasn't worth fighting at the moment when she was like this and met with her in the hall. The doctor who had assigned us to Frank's room was our tail. We chose a crowded elevator and went up two floors and then got on another elevator and went down three floors. The hall that had been where we escaped was now crowded with doctors and nurses. Rosie got off and we looked at each other. One of the CIA rules clearly states that you are not to return to the place where you were contained by enemy forces. But rules are designed to be broken, right? But the room that had been made of steel was now some patient named Stuart's room.
"What ever they don't want us to find has to be on this floor. Everything has changed because they didn't expect us to return or didn't think we were that idiotic to return," Rosie spoke in Farsi. I nodded in agreement and we searched for anything out of the ordinary. There was a medical supplies room and we went into it where it was filled with monitors and all that other techy stuff that I hate. We started searching every computer for information. We were about half way through the room after three hours when we heard the door close. I thought of excuses but Rosie yanked me behind her shelf and pulled out the gun. Footsteps approached on our right and Rosie inched toward the direction set herself in shooting stance. I inched back a few row until I knew I was behind him.
Being a spy means taking risks that will put you in extreme danger, but we cling to dear life, and that's what gets most of us home to our families a few days later. Not always, nothing is set in stone. There's your office desk job where you make an hour commute both ways everyday and you come home to a husband who kisses you on the cheek and two children who are peacefully watching SpongeBob Squarepants and run up to give you a hug when you come into view. You eat dinner in a nice house that belongs in a perfect sub division with neighbors who ask you for a cup of sugar once in a while. That life is set in stone, very little will ever change.
Now take the spy life. One day you're eating spaghetti and you go to your refrigerator to get a little bit of parmesan and you find the little flat screen has the Director's face on it, ready to give you a mission. You leave and could possibly be on a one hour to a fifteen hour flight to some city where there is a bad person trying to do bad things. You wing it most of the way because saving the world does not come with an instruction manual like a computer. Everything goes fine for once. You make a thirteen hour commute back home where your husband holds you in his arms, kisses you deeply, and says that you are never allowed to leave the house again. Your two children are in the backyard play fighting, using the Kowalski move that they both promised never to do in public again. You don't trust your neighbors and your neighbors don't ask you for sugar because you and your family are fairly intimidating. But then you get called away on another mission where you could possibly die. The spy life is not set in stone, and everything can change in a heart beat.
It's strange how everything can pass through your mind in a matter of seconds, exactly how I spun and wrapped my arms around the bad guy's neck and he went to the floor, gagging the whole way before I took my hold off. He spun to attack but stopped when he saw Rosie's gun pointed at his head.
"You'll never find it. It's not recorded on a stupid computer or text messaged on a phone," The doctor sounded like he had done this a hundred times before a violent shock ran through him and he was dead. Rosie carefully moved his shirt up to reveal a device that electrocutes your heart at a set time, no pressure.
"It has to be in a computer," Rose and I said at the same time. We stuck the body in a closet in the very back that was empty and started opening computers up to look inside. It was another two hours before Rosie whistled and I was beside her a moment later.
"Look," It was a tiny scrap of paper but on it was wrote to words, The Roof.
"They have to be planning something on the roof," Rosie said in Swahili just in case somebody was listening in.
"What if it has already happened?" I asked.
"This hospital is still standing so I assume it hasn't," Rosie cleared up my question and we left the room to get on an elevator that went to the roof. Rosie pulled out the gun and barely peaked out before there was a gun shot, the bullet had missed her nose by a couple of centimeters. Rosie dove and shot at the same time for some boxes that would give her better shooting options. I felt helpless but I couldn't do anything without a gun. There were two thuds and Rosie whistled to tell me it was safe. I crept out and saw two dead bodies and four bombs, each placed at the four corners of the roof.
"Start stopping them," Rosie commanded and we launched toward a bomb each. It was a huge version of a pipe bomb and I pulled out a couple of wires I knew would stop it. But the numbers on the other two bombs started speeding downwards. Rose and I got to them but these were actual terrorist bombs. There were ten seconds left.
I examined the bomb and knew that it was only the red wire that would stop it now. It had some super glue that was holding the wire and I was unable to pull it, six seconds. Since I didn't have a knife, I used my other tool. My steel K-9s and started to chew until I felt the wire give and the ticking sound stopped, Rosie had used the same thing. There's a clear lining on the back of our teeth except for our K-9s where there is a piece of steel covering the back of them which is designed for biting through rope and wires. Just your normal, everyday spy tool.
A helicopter was coming toward us but I recognized it as a CIA owned helicopter. It hovered a few feet away from the building. Rosie half smiled at me and jumped in. I walked over and went to jump but my shoe caught the edge of the building and my jump was cut short. I reached out and clung to the landing things on the bottom, clinging to them for dear life. The helicopter swayed and my grip slipped until I felt a pair of strong hands grip me from under my arms and haul me into the safe part of the helicopter. Johnny nodded his head like an old fashioned cowboy and sat down right when James wrapped his arms around me tightly.
"Do not do that to me," He scolded and kissed me for a few moments before Rose heeled him in the back of the knee.
"That wasn't very nice," I told my friend and she only grinned in innocence. A cell phone rang and Johnny handed it to Rosie, she listened to the speaker without saying a word before hanging up and sighing.
"Who was it?" I asked.
"The Director," I stared at her, waiting for the news. Johnny's arm tightened around her shoulders and he kissed her forehead. I could cling to dear life but I couldn't cling to my best friend to stay and be safe for two whole seconds.
A/N: PLEASE REVIEW!