Authors notes: To any of the other artists that may be reading this: have you ever had one of those works that seemed to be made of magic? Like its almost as if the Muse itself reaches down and guides your hand creating art of pure perfection and you are just the portal from which it is born from? This? This is not one of those chapters. In the spirit of the holidays my family gave me the gift of germs and it keeps on giving. I have tried editing this chapter up one side and down the other and I am still not happy with it. My beta says its just because I don't feel well, but I feel unhappy still with this. Instead of getting so frustrated I delete it, I'm going to go ahead and post seeing as how I am already late with a new post. I cant believe its chapter five already. I sincerely hope you find it worth the wait. Thank you.
Once the door to the gas station bathroom was locked Rose sagged against the metal with a heavy sigh of exhaustion. The grimy paint on the women's room door stuck to her forehead but she could not find it within herself to care. The air in the small room was stale and filthy. The floors were unswept and various broken bottles, condoms, and cigarettes were scattered about. She tested the handle once more for good measure and left the keys with the small wooden block hanging from the lock.
She had chosen this gas station because from her vantage in the shadows, no security cameras could be spotted at the dated rest stop. The attendant had been far too engaged in the game playing on his portable tv to pay her much mind. If he had looked a little closer at the woman he might have seen a few things that would have struck him as odd. The way her jacket and sweat pants looked more like a young mans outfit, almost as if her clothes had been stolen. Or he might have seen the telltale limp in her step no matter how valiantly she had tried to conceal it. But the man cared more about his game than the woman who hid her face behind her hair and handed over the keys without a second glance.
There was no one else in the single person restroom and given how out of the way this station was, Rose did not anticipate being disturbed any time soon. She had work to do. Not bothering to hide her pain now that she was unobserved, the woman limped to the sink and hung her plastic pharmacy and thrift store bag from one of the broken handles.
Grasping the cool porcelain of the sink, Rose took a good long look at herself in the filmy mirror. The flickering fluorescent light sans its cover painted her worn face in sharp contrast. Bags under her eyes stood out nearly to the point of looking like bruises. Her chin length hair hung unwashed, her blond roots threatening to show through. Then there were her eyes. As worn down as she was, one would imagine that they would be defeated and hollow.
Instead they held a smoldering determination that would not be extinguished by mere exhaustion and injury.
Slowly and painfully Rose pulled off the stolen jacket and let it drop to the floor. Underneath was the same shirt she had been wearing that Friday. It was now soiled in sweat, filth, and blood. She pulled off the stained blouse and ripped a sleeve free from the article of clothing. Dropping the ruined garment in the floor with the jacket, Rose set aside the sleeve for later.
Carefully as to not jar her injured arm too much Rose slipped her bra off, the once beige lace also liberally stained with blood. She sighed in relief as the underwire that had been digging into her for days was finally removed. She had a fleeting moment of sadness as the once favorite article of clothing was unceremoniously dropped into the floor as well to be disposed of later.
Rose reached into one of her bags for the scissors she had purchased. In the aged porcelain of the sink a long lock of brown hair fell. And then another, then another.
Ignoring the pain lancing through her bandaged bicep as she methodically sheered away the strands, Rose stared at her dim reflection in fiery resolve. It hurt, to see her hair fall away like that snip by snip but she had never been one to back away from uncomfortable tasks when there was a greater purpose to be had.
It hurt because Jack had always loved her hair longer. He loved to slowly run it through his fingers as they lay entwined together. To feel it on his face whenever she would fall asleep in his arms. With each tug of the cheap scissors it felt like she was letting him down. But then again she had been letting him down a lot lately.
After the one month mark had passed without word from Jack Rose had been worried but not particularly concerned. He had run slightly late before when sending out a call could potentially give away his position, or if he ran the risk of losing his target if he had stopped for a day of video chatting. She had gone about her daily routine, frequently checking her phone for the message that she longed to see. John became nearly insufferable in his constant questions of when his father was going to call despite her repeated attempts to tell him that he knew as much as she did.
At the second month Rose began to get anxious. Worry crept in that her husband might have become injured or even trapped by those that he hunted. Rose checked her phone constantly. On her more worried days she checked it nearly hourly. By that time John had come to realize that something was wrong. Every time she would check her phone he would stare at her with those big blue eyes full of hope. It broke her heart every time to shake her head and see those eyes fall.
By the time that the third month rolled around Rose was officially alarmed. Keeping in mind Jack's instructions to seek help if he was MIA for longer than three months, Rose had immediately sent the call out. Hal and Roy were the first and foremost to rally at her side. After hearing the situation they had at once set out through their various channels to try and locate her wayward husband. Meryl and Johnny had also pledged their assistance and even a few former members of the Paradise Lost army had reached out to inform her of their efforts.
Three months soon turned to six, which turned to nine, which turned to twelve.
Those that had so enthusiastically come to help still searched on, although that initial spark of determination and hope had died. Every stone was upturned, every avenue explored, and yet as the months inexorably crawled past there was absolutely no trace of Jack. They still got in touch with Rose ever few months or so to inform her that they still kept an eye out but she could tell that this was done only for her sake rather than any true hope of finding anything.
Month after month the light slowly faded from her son's eyes. John no longer asked how the search was going. He would make it a point to leave the room whenever she was on the phone seeking any scraps of updates. The boy was building a wall around himself that she could not break through.
On bad days Rose found herself furious with Jack. Heavens knew that the man drove her up the wall sometimes but this was a level of anger that she had not had towards him before. Their separation in the past had been out of necessity. Jack returning to the battlefield after laying down his sword had also been born out of financial need. Rose even understood the significance and righteousness of his crusade. But did it have to be him? Could no one else have taken on these people? Did he really have to leave?
Doubt had slowly crept in as time had crept mercilessly on. Doubt that all those helping her would ever find anything. Doubt that she would ever hear his voice, ever see his face again. The nightmares of him laying amongst the rest of the corpses in some old nameless battlefield plagued her and made her cry out in her sleep.
John was the only thing that kept her going through this bleak depression. Rose did not like to think of what her fate might have been if she had not had her son to take care of. She could not give in to her depression when she had to fight against John's own alarmingly low spirits. It had been a rocky time for her coming out of that darkness, but like a storm all things eventually passed.
After two long years Rose finally gave up. Two years of waiting, worrying, and praying. Twenty four months without a single message or sign from Jack had finally wore her down. She had denied the truth for the longest time. She insisted that the mission may have went wrong but he would return, he always did. But eventually she became too tired to hold on to the lie any longer.
Rose had only just begun to tentatively accept the truth and the reality of life without the man she loved when she had received the phone call…
Rose had been fighting fiercely with the instant mashed potatoes for nearly fifteen minuets at that point. At first they had been dry and strangely clumpy. Some additional water and milk had turned the side dish into more of a side of soup. The addition of more instant potatoes had put her back at square one only this time there was substantially more chunky potatoes than before.
She had been trying to squish the lumps into submission with a serving fork when her cell had gone off. Without checking the ID, she picked it up and put it to her ear (no doubt getting some of the potatoes in her hair) and held the phone tightly with her shoulder as she continued her war with the meal.
"Hello?"
"Hello Rose dear." A familiar and well beloved voice sounded out over the phone.
"Roy!" Rose had been delighted and put down the food to fight with later. "It's good to hear from you again. How has things been with you? Meryl and Johnny keeping you on your toes with little JJ?"
"As much as I would like to say that this is a social call, I'm afraid I can't. It has to do with your husband."
Rose had immediately stopped cleaning the potato mash out from under her fingernails with a dishtowel. She had froze in place as if some specter had placed a curse upon her, blood running cold and all.
"Rose?"
"Have you found him? Have you found Jack?" Her voice was hardly more than a whisper.
"No I'm afraid we have no intel on him still yet." Roy's voice had sounded truly regretful. She had numbly wandered into the living to sit on the couch before her legs gave out from underneath her. The brief flash of hope being ripped away from her was gutting.
"Then...why…"
"I came across a bit of intel that may be connected with your husbands disappearance. I have no confirmation but if its a coincidence then its the biggest damn one that I've ever seen."
"I'm listening." Rose hid her face in her hand, heedless of the flakes of food coating them.
"You are aware of Jack's former unit, correct?"
"...Force XXI?" Rose struggled to dredge up the name that had been buried for a number of years.
"Ah, no. Before that. His first unit. In the Devils army."
"The Small Boys Unit. Yes, hes told me about that. But what does that have to do with his disappearance now?" An unsettling prickle began to creep over her at the reminder of her husbands torturous past.
"Like I said, it could be coincidence, but I have come to learn that in the past two years individuals formerly in the Small Boys Unit have been turning up either dead or missing."
"No." She pointlessly denied what her old friend and protector was implying.
"So far nineteen of them have been targeted. Twelve dead and eight missing. I suppose Jack makes twenty now…"
That was the moment that Rose knew. Jack had not left her. He had been stolen from her…
The last tuft of hair fell down to join the brown mass in the sink. Rose ran her fingers through her newly shortened hair, turning this way and that trying to see it properly in the dim light and filthy mirror.
It was not professional, not by any means, but not exactly bad looking either. It could pass for that pixie style she had seen some of the other mothers at John's school wear. Tossing the scissors in the trash can nearby, Rose fished out a small box from the pharmacy bag.
It was not her natural shade of blond in the box of bleach hair coloring. It was more cool toned like her husband and son rather than her honey colored hair that she had said goodbye to when she had been assigned to Jack. What little remained of her hair would probably be left a wreck by the chemicals as she had picked the one with the most lifting power to combat the brown dye she had used for years.
Heedless of the smell of ammonia mixing horridly with scent of urine and feces that permeated the gas station bathroom, Rose mixed and applied the product. With naught to to but wait until her hair had time to process, Rose sank to the floor to sit upon the discarded clothes and lean against the soiled yet thankfully cool cinder blocks. She closed her eyes to rest and let her thoughts wander...
Waiting in the little airport coffee shop Rose twirled the folded letter over and over again in between sips of her latte. It had been delivered to her office nearly two weeks ago. The only thing the letter had read was: 'I wish to discuss finding your husband. Come alone.' Below that brief yet heart stopping message was a date, time, and location to meet.
A little research had revealed that the name belonging to the sender was a real person. The problem was that said individual was from the Netherlands and had died nearly a decade ago leaving no family behind. The return address had also been a false one, leading to a junkyard in rural Pennsylvania. Everything about this mysterious message set off Rose's instincts. Wariness warred with caution but even the barest hint of finding her husband was enough to override what reservations that she had held regarding the strange message.
Rose had arrived at the stated location an hour early. Her nerves were soothed by the fact that this meeting place was in a busy airport coffee shop rather than some abandoned building out in the sticks. She had ordered her drink while she waited and slyly observed those around her as she pretended to be scrolling through her phone.
Rose was confident that no one had followed her to the airport. Amongst the crowds there were no hint of weapons hidden discretely within folds of fabric. No trace of a hand lingering a little too close to ones side. People cycled in and out of the shop steadily, ordering their drinks and rushing along to live their lives. Rose had watched them with no small degree of jealousy. She had felt stuck in a bubble, separate from the world. Isolated from everyone and unable to live her life, only able to watch as others enjoyed theirs.
There were families everywhere. Children were tugging their parents along to hurry up with their vacations. Mothers carrying the littlest ones while the long suffering fathers were stuck with the lions share of the luggage. Elderly couples milled about, pouring over maps and struggling to get their smartphones to work. Business men and women with their ties and high heels, walking with purpose with little time to take in the sights from the windows. Rose watched them all with that folded little letter flipping over and over in her hands.
Her attention had snapped back to focus as someone was approaching her. There had been several other patrons that had been seated as long as she had. One was an elderly man, snoring away in the corner without a care in the world. A young woman that looked to be in her early twenties who had been fiercely and tearfully texting someone for the past fifteen minuets. There was also a man who was apparently nearing the end of his vacation. His rolling luggage at his feet while he scrolled through photos on his camera, sandals and socks contrasting horridly with his floral button up shirt. It was this last man who stood, gathered his things, and approached her.
It had been nearly twenty minuets until the meeting time so Rose had highly suspected that this man was approaching her to try and shoot his shot. She held her coffee in her left hand, making sure to flash the band of gold around her finger to the stranger. The notion that he had come to flirt was disrupted when he sat opposite of her and considered her in a coolly appraising sort of way.
The man's slightly sunburnt face stood out against his mousy brown hair and hazel eyes. He was of average height and build, perhaps a bit on the leaner side but Rose could see no definition in those arms that were propped up on the table, fingers drumming away. This was the form of a man that made his living while sitting down but there was a sharpness to his down turned eyes that suggested that he was no average soft bellied citizen.
Rose stared him down with as much intensity as he was looking at her with. Eventually the tension was broken as that razor edged look was dispelled with a chuckle, as the man let a mask of harmless friendliness fall over his face.
"I thought I was punctual. But then again, isn't the saying in the service: if you're early you're on time, if you're on time you're late? Old habits die hard Rose?" The man propped his chin on his fist, mushing his cheek slightly in a way that only deepened his knowing smirk.
Rose kept the jolt of shock from showing on her face. Knowledge was power. Her name and her time in the service had been dropped so casually, but it suggested in no uncertain terms that he held the information and thus all the power of this exchange.
The woman carefully and unhurriedly set her coffee aside. She placed the little folded square of paper in her purse and then turned to look at the man square on. Unflinching.
"I left the service years ago. This meeting isn't about that."
"Isn't it?" His voice rose in pitch in feigned confusion. He tilted his head slightly that was almost sincere enough that Rose believed his ignorance. Almost. He continued on happily. "I've done some deep digging and you have quite the record. A data analyst with a side of espionage? Such interesting paths those rabbit holes lead me down, let me tell you." The man leaned back in his seat, true delight showing through his mask of causal openness. It was the first sincere expression that he had displayed since this little exchange began."All highly classified stuff, very patriotic. But nothing that a little diving into the wonderland that is the net couldn't dig up."
Mastery of her emotional responses came in handy once more. This was a man that prided himself on knowing. His sword was information and he took a sadistic delight in holding his blade up against the throats of others just to watch them squirm. If he thought he could make her flinch with all that he knew and had uncovered when the Patriots themselves could not bend her to their will then he was sorely mistaken.
"Enough." Rose bit out. "My husband. Where is he?"
"Oh, dear Jackie boy? I have no idea." The stranger shrugged honestly.
"What?" She had said sharply, briefly seeing red at being toyed with. The man continued on before she could gather steam.
"And nobody else knows either. A little birdy told me that you've been seeking out help for a few years now. Asking anybody and everybody. Too bad that they can't find him. But I can. For a price." His voice dropped with dark glee.
"And how do I know you can actually do what you say you can do?" Rose was thankful for the crowd around her as the man in front of her gave her the chills while simultaneously pushing every one of her buttons with his taunting smarmy attitude. "For all I know you are the one who took him and this is an attempt at a ransom. One that I will pay, make no mistake, but I don't like mind games."
"A bit belated to be putting out a ransom, isn't it? How many years has it been now?" Rose shot the man a look but had to turn away. The reminder of how long its been threatened to crack her mask. She grounded herself then turned back to the man.
"Don't get me wrong. If you can find him then I will pay any and everything within my power to do so. But I have no assurance of your ability other than your word. If you are aware of my history then you must understand why I would be skeptical of accepting such a claim on face value."
"Alright. Fair, fair." The stranger leaned back, scratching at a sunburnt ear. "I cant blame you for not knowing that hunting down information is my specialty. My kung fu, if you will. One of the big problems with being anonymous is that no one has ever heard of you." His delivery clearly indicated that he thought he was being funny. When she didn't laugh he went back to scratching."Out of curiosity, me being able to dig up your info wasn't enough to convince you? Why?"
"I've had someone once tell me that our information is not as secure as we like to believe it is. I am friends with a number of technologically talented individuals and if they could not find Jack, then I sincerely doubt you can either." Rose thought of the fruitless efforts of both Hal and Sunny and highly doubted that this man who didn't even have the sense to stop irritating his burnt skin could compare to either of them.
"Ouch." The man dramatically clutched at an invisible arrow embedded in his heart. "Such harsh words. You're spicy. No wonder he likes you." His amusement grew as Rose's frown deepened. "They may be good but they are not me. I know they lost his trail in Romania. I tracked him there too. But unlike your little friends I have a lead and know where he was taken next."
"What?" Rose nearly shouted. Thankfully no one paid her any mind as the young woman texting had broken out into full blown sobs. Rose lowered her voice and leaned in closer to the smug man. "Where? Where is he?"
"Shame shame. Expecting such information for free. I think I've already mentioned something along the lines of being paid. I could follow that lead further if you want to employ my services."
"How much?" She forced out, hope warring with anger.
"We can hammer out the details of that later. But I will tell you, I don't work for cheap." The man got to his feet giving a great back popping stretch."I'll be honest with you Rose, Cases like this usually bore the hell out of me. My spouse is missing!" He said in a mocking falsetto voice, hands clasped together. "My son ran away from home! Fido's gone." He had waved a hand in disgust as if the very concept of family issues left a foul smell in the air.
"Why the change of heart then?" Rose asked, trying to get a read on the man and fish for whatever information that she could.
"I was touched by art." The man said cryptically. At her confusion he reached over to steal her coffee before leaning against the booth and explaining. "I don't know if you are aware of this, but your man isn't the only one that has been disappearing. Lets just say some of his childhood friends have been having some troubles as well. One is a rising artist, turning trauma into paintings or whatever. Was nearly the next one to disappear but escaped by the skin of his teeth. Was on the news." The man took a drink of the stolen coffee then pulled a face at her preference.
Rose filed away every word to look up later. The mention of Jack's former unit by both Roy and this guy was enough to convince her that this stranger knew his stuff. On the Emmerichs level? Doubtful, but Rose had little other hope but to try.
After another drink with the same reaction, he sat the coffee back down in front of Rose. She slowly pushed it away from herself as he continued.
"I've known about your little problem for a while now but I never gave a shit. Well the night that piece came on the news I was hammered and did some digging because what else are you gonna do while drunk? Well I'm glad I did. I found a familiar name, remembered you, and dived in further. Oh so many fascinating secrets you and your husband have. My interest was immensely piqued and after turning up a lead I magnanimously came to offer my services to you." He gave her a deep bow then offered his hand out to her. "What do you say? Do we have a deal?"
Rose looked up at the man. She knew that while his exceptionally convenient little story held some accuracy to it, it was by no means the truth. It was believable enough to be plausible but Rose was no fool. This man was lying to her and what more, he knew she knew. They also both knew that she had no other choice.
Rose looked at the offered hand as if it were a coiled viper. She took it and shook briefly.
"It is a deal."
"Good." The man joyfully clapped his hands and briskly rubbed them together. He grabbed his rolling luggage and began to walk away.
"Wait." Rose shot a hand out and snagged a floral sleeve. "Who are you and how do I stay in contact with you."
"You don't. I'll contact you. And its T. W. Rabbit. Good day."
Rose slowly and painfully stood up, injured leg threatening to buckle underneath her. Irritation at the insufferable man gave her the strength to overcome the gravity intent on holding her down. She stiffly made her way back to the mirror to check the process of the hair bleach. The short strands still seemed mildly brassy but Rose figured that this was the best that she was going to get. Rinsing her hair in that small filthy sink was a task but eventually the mirror reflected back to her a shock of gold rather than the brunette that he liked so much.
She pulled her gun free from where it had been tucked in her waste band and gently set it on the edge of the sink. Rose slipped her shoes off and slid the pants and undergarments off. She let them join the pile of clothes on the floor to step on so she would not have to touch the filthy surface with her bare feet. Using the sleeve that she had set aside and a small bar of soap from her purchases, the woman took to methodically washing herself off.
Swipe by swipe the blood and sweat lifted away. Although she could do with a hot meal and a cup of coffee, the washing went a long way toward making her feel more human. After a second working over with the sleeve and soap Rose decided that this was as clean as she was going to get.
Hands still scent stained with the cloying floral smell of the soap, she began to unwind the bandages made from a ripped sheet on her right bicep and upper thigh. Her arm had only been grazed and while it was painful to move, movement was not hindered too severely. Taking what medical supplies she had been able to afford with her emergency funds, Rose began to treat the more worrisome of her injuries.
It was her leg, her damn leg that was giving her grief. She was no expert but she had her fair share of medical training back in her old life. It seemed like a simple through and through. Not too much muscle damage. If she was lucky enough to avoid infection she should regain full use of it once it healed. Unfortunately it would leave a rather ugly scar. That is, if she managed to get somewhere safe enough for it to be able to heal into a scar.
The woman shivered and it had nothing to do with the damp on her bare skin. She had gotten lucky. Very lucky. Rose had been convinced that day that she was going to die. She and the driver of the black vehicle had been exchanging fire when she had landed a lucky shot. The other vehicle had not had bulletproof glass after all and her round broke through to embed itself in the skull of the driver.
Before Rose had an opportunity to celebrate, the death spasms of the driver had caused the other vehicle to careen into hers. The next few moments passed in a whirl of glass and steel. She knew that she would be revisiting those moments and the events following many times in her nightmares...
The airbag going off left her dazed and disoriented. Rose stared dumbly at the white fabric in front of her before things started slotting into place in her memory painfully slowly. It was the slamming of a car door in the distance that snapped her back to full awareness.
The door closing meant that there was someone more than just the driver. A quick glance at the mirrors told her that they were coming around back. Rose then realized that her gun had slipped from her grip in the chaos. She groped around for it wildly amidst the broken glass and scattered items, all too aware of the approaching footsteps.
She spotted the gun partially hidden under a displaced floor mat and lunged for it. A figure appeared in the passenger side window. Both raised their weapons at the same time and fired.
The gun fell from her stunned fingers as the shock of the bullets graze sent pain lancing down her arm. Outside there was a dull thump and a crack, the sound of a body dropping and a head splitting open on the asphalt.
For one brief joyous moment Rose thought it was all over for now. She clumsily took up the gun in her trembling left hand and cautiously exited the vehicle. The other car set at an angle to the road dividers, steam hissing steadily from the front. Shadows obscured the driver, but the figure sagging over the wheel was motionless. Lifeless.
Dazed from the wreck and ears ringing horrendously from the gunfire, Rose cautiously made her way around the car towards the body on the ground. Her shot had been true once more as a halo of red was slowly spreading out from her fallen opponent. The woman stood there stunned, looking down at the still twitching body with her mouth hung open in shock. It was not the horror of taking a life that had her motionless.
The person she had killed was just a child. The boy couldn't have been any older then seventeen, nineteen tops. He wore ripped jeans, sneakers, and a shirt with a logo of some band or another. His light hair and complexion sickeningly reminded Rose of her own son. The young mans face held none of the fear or rage of death. The expression was oddly blank, like a mask made of flesh. The gun laying in his slack grip...that was real however.
Screeching tires pulled Rose back to focus.
She whirled around to see a middle aged man in business causal hop out of his car. The woman quickly took note of his ports and implant scars on his neck and temples and tensed up for trouble. Rose relaxed somewhat as his rotund physique came into view judging his cybernetic work more software than hardware.
"Aye lady you awright?" He rushed around to check the driver, only to pull back. "Christ…" He pulled the sunglasses off of his balding head where they had been perched and ran a hand over the beading sweat. "Shit, your bleedin. We gotta put the call out. Are you...whoa now." It was then that he spotted the gun held in her hand.
"I'm going to need your car." Rose said in a voice made of steel.
"Take it. Take it. I don't want no trouble." Hands in the air he steadily backed away, sidestepping to put the black wrecked vehicle betwixt the two of them.
Rose did not give the man a reply. She turned back towards her own car and began hunting for her phone. The contents of her purse had been scattered all over the back seat and floor. Rose grabbed her wallet and shoved it into her bra and continued looking for the electronic device
She had been in the middle of contacting Maverick Security Consulting desperate for help. The woman had only just managed to relay the coordinates given to her for Jacks location and to plead for protection for John before the firefight had started. She needed that phone to tell them what else she had discovered in those long months that had followed Rabbit contacting her. She needed to warn them about the risks, the plots, targets, but most of all she needed to warn them about the Hunter.
As she spotted her phone and lunged forward to grab it a gunshot rang out.
The bullet hit the seat only inches from her head causing her to cry out in fear. She leaped inside and pulled the door shut behind her. Rose dove for the floor in the back seat just as another bullet impacted the car showering her with foam from the seats. She quickly opened the door on the other side and scrambled out of the car, keeping her head down.
Initially she had thought that the driver was not as dead as she had first suspected and had regained consciousness to continue their pursuit of her. On the asphalt amidst the broken glass and chunks of plastic was her side mirror that had broken off which gave her a glimpse of her assailant. To Rose's shock, it was the man who had so timidly backed off only moments earlier. He must have retrieved the gun from the other vehicle and he wore the same eerily blank expression on his face that the young man had.
Peering under her car, Rose lined up a shot despite the awkward angle and fired. With only the thin straps of his sandals to protect his foot, the round sent shards of bone and gore everywhere from what used to be an ankle. From her vantage point under the car, Rose saw the man collapse to the ground onto his back. She fired off a few more rounds into his exposed midsection, certain that she had hit something vital.
The woman took the opportunity to bolt while she could. Rose sprung up and made for the cover of the trees just off of the side of the highway. She had nearly made it to cover before she hit the ground tumbling over and over, the pain only catching up to her a moment later. A white hot pain enveloped her thigh. The only thing keeping her from screaming out was the fact that she had winded herself badly when she had crashed to the ground.
Rose twisted about despite the searing pain, trying to bring her weapon up to bare. She had known deep down that she was going to be too late, that she was going to see the man pointing the weapon at her, perhaps a flash from the muzzle, then it would all be over. Before Rose had time to lament the fact that John would be without a mother or that she had never got to see Jack once more, a clatter caught her attention.
The man standing in the road drenched in red had collapsed to his knees, gun falling from loose fingers. He sagged over onto his side, weakly reaching for the gun. She didn't know how the hell he had been standing on that foot or with the injures that she had given him, all she knew was that the hair on the back of her neck prickled up at that blank expression without the slightest hint of pain. She knew that the only reason that she had not received that final shot was because that soulless marionette of a man physically no longer hold the weapon up.
Rose didn't stick around to see any more of the unnerving display. Limping heavily, she left the highway behind her. She needed to find shelter, she needed to tend to her wounds, but most of all, she needed to get away from those blank soulless eyes that followed her retreat even as the light left them...
Rose sighed heavily as she wrapped the last of the gauze around her arm and awkwardly and taped it off. If it hadn't been for that damn shot she would have tried to join up with Maverick when they came to pick up her son. As it was, the woman had been lucky that she had managed to find an empty apartment to hide in before she had fallen unconscious. She was even luckier that she had not bled out or had been found during that time. But despite Rose's thankfulness of her continued existence, she was met with a host of entirely different problems now.
Rose was being hunted. Any attempt she made now at getting in contact with Maverick or Rabbit, or any of her friends really, would be intercepted and another random citizen would most certainly brain-jacked to get to her first. If she were back in the states then it would be easier for Roy or Hal to send her some help. But here in New Zealand so far away from everybody else they would be far too late to come to her rescue once she had given away her location.
If fate was kind to her then Maverick would still be looking for her despite her silence over these past several days. If it was unkind then the people that she had pleaded to for help had been hacked and she had sentenced her boys to death. Rose was not the type of person that believed that things were determined by fate anyway. That was another reason Rose had requested Boris to include Sunny in these circumstances. If anyone could combat a hacker the caliber of the individual that had taken her husband and was now after her, then it would be Sunny.
Rose wrapped resolve and determination around herself like armor. If she could not get in contact with anyone without risking the lives of her and her contact then she would simply have to do without. Rose would find a way to Maverick herself, even if she had to swim the Pacific to do it. There was also the added benefit if this person was busy with her, then Jack and John were all the safer for it. It was the least she could do for her boys while she tried to make her way back to them.
The nude woman pulled the cheap clothes from the thrift store bag and dressed. She had never considered herself a fashionista. Mature and professional had always been her preferred style. Even back in her twenties on some of her more frisky dates with Jack, her clothing had always been socially appropriate. It was not that she was a prude, quite the opposite, but rather that she was of the mind that when it came to showing skin, less showing was more. How else was one supposed to entice a mans imagination if there was nothing left to imagine? This outfit didn't quite follow her typical style of dress.
Rose pulled on the black leggings, feeling slightly embarrassed that she was dressing like a woman half her age. To dress completely unlike herself was the point after all. The leggings with the short skirt were accompanied with boots that were slightly too small for her feet and pinched uncomfortably. The sleeveless shirt was slightly sheer making her uncomfortable without a bra but thankfully she was mostly covered by the red denim jacket. The cheap pharmacy brand foundation, lipstick, and heavy eyeliner finished off her outfit. Rose took a step back and observed herself in the restroom mirror.
The sight pulled an unwilling snort out of her. The woman covered her mouth to try and hold in the laughter.
She looked like a hooker. No one looking at her would recognize her for the family minded therapist that was pushing forty. Rose had always been good at molding herself into whatever she needed to be, and right now she needed to be someone that could pass unnoticed by her pursuer. Her drastic change in appearance should fool anyone looking for her, and the heavy makeup would skew any facial recognition from surveillance feeds. But good heavens did she look ridiculous.
Tucking her gun in the back of her skirt to be hidden by her jacket, Rose began to gather everything she had managed to accumulate and shove it in the trash can below the beer bottles and used tampons. The rest of her severed hair was gathered up and rinsed down the sink, surely to clog but honestly she did not give a shit. Had the owner actually taken care of the restroom then it might be another story. As it was, she hoped it clogged bad enough for them to have to shut this bio-hazard down. Rose prayed that the scent of the overly floral soap would be enough to override the foul scents that were sure to linger on her from this restroom.
Rose slid her wedding ring into her skirt pocket for safekeeping. She gave the room one last look around, scanning for any trace of her presence that she had not yet cleaned up before she was satisfied. Swallowing down the pain from her leg Rose strode towards the door, getting a feel for the high heeled boots rather than her usual flats. The wound screamed at her but she pushed it down as she settled in to her new persona for her mission. This new woman was never in a firefight. No firefight, no bullet wound. The pain took a back seat as she let herself lie once more.
The humid night air hanging thick with the scent of motor oil and gasoline was like a divine wind after being stuck in that room for nearly two hours. With the exception of one man filling up a beater at the pump, the station was thankfully empty. Through the window Rose could see the attendant animatedly yelling at the television screen, still engaged in his sports. The man at the pump looked unkempt and rough in his black shirt and torn jeans. 'One of the local tough guys,' she assumed.
Perfect.
Pain in her arm and leg a distant thought, Rose stalked over to the car making sure to put a little extra sway in each step when she noticed him looking. She made a show of appraising the vehicle as if it were an expensive ride rather than the rusting shit can it was. She leisurely meandered over towards the openly leering man.
"See anything you like?" He casually leaned up against the pump, none too subtly trying to flex. The doughy unshaven face was a picture of lust. Rose kept the revulsion from showing on her face.
"Indeed I do." She purred, trailing one finger lightly over the hood ornament. "My ride left me here, so lets just say I'm looking for a replacement. What do you say? Take me for a ride?" Some gasoline splashed out in the mans haste to remove it and put it back in its holster.
"Hop on in babe." The man pulled out a bill from his wallet and tossed it on the ground amidst the beer caps for the inattentive attendant to find and eagerly slid on in the car. They peeled out of the parking lot into the night. They were hardly outside the range of light from the station before the man's free hand predictably began to wander.
"So where are you heading and more importantly, do you want to take the fast lane...or the scenic route?" He gave her upper thigh a squeeze regrettably where her bandages were located. The single minded man must have taken the look on her face with her head tilted back as an expression of ecstasy rather than the pain it actually was. He pulled the car over on the side of the road and began to clamber over towards her.
Only to be met with the cold muzzle of a gun under his bristly chin.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me." He grumbled as he closed his eyes, moving his mouth as little as possible.
"I've had a very hard past few days. Do not test me." Rose dug the muzzle of the gun deeper under his jaw to emphasize her point. She watched him intensely, alert to any movement or tensing that may indicate that he was thinking about going for the gun. The sleazy man must have seen the truth in her eyes that she would not hesitate to murder him if she needed to.
"Alright lady you win. What do you want from me?"
"I want you to slowly take out your wallet and throw it in the back seat. Then you are going to get out of the car slowly, go over to the other side of the road, and sit with your back to the car until I leave."
The man obeyed Rose's orders and moved slowly as to not provoke her into letting off a round into his skull. The wallet hit the back seat with a heavy thunk. She had seen that it held plenty of cash back at the station. The man slid away from her slowly back into his own seat to Rose's relief. The brute could not be any more different than her husband if he had tried. Having this strangers hands on her rather than those beloved ones was loathsome.
There was a brief moment where it seemed as if he were considering on going for the gun but the slight tightening of her finger deterred that thought. Rose would not be sorry if she had to murder him. Not. One. Bit. It was uncharacteristically dark of her, but she could not find it within herself to care.
The man slipped from the car grumbling maledictions towards her along with numerous and colorful insults. Once he had made it to the other side of the road Rose slipped into the drivers seat and pulled the door shut, locking it. She shot the man one last look as she put the car into gear. He sat with his back towards the car as instructed but he peered over his shoulder. Rose wasn't sure that she had ever received such a dirty look before.
Without another glance back she drove off down the dark highway. Rose was on a mission and she did not care what she had to do, or who she had to take it from to evade detection and make her way back to her boys. She was going to find her family. That was a promise.
Post notes: We will get to hear from Rose again but not for a little while yet. I had planned for her chapter to be a little later but she insisted on showing up now. I was iffy about an oc (side character, not the focus don't worry) but as soon as I ran my ideas by my beta they instantly latched on and said that this gremlin was their favorite. I had to readjust several ideas due to this. Thanks homie...
I cherish every kudos and comment that comes my way. After I'm done being a coward lol. I make my beta read every scary notification first before I have the courage to look. After that they go into a file to make me smile when I feel discouraged. BTW, that gas station bathroom is based off of one that I had the misfortune to encounter during a road trip once. I thank the powers that be that my sense of smell is practically non-existent.