A MAJORITY OF THE PEOPLE KIERA SAW EVERYDAY WERE GOING TO DIE WITHIN THE NEXT FORTY-FIVE MINUTES.
Kiera’s desk was devoid of any personal affects. Except for a treasure troll with neon green hair that seemed to be standing guard in front of a birthday card signed by everyone in the office. Alvin made sure of that. The card was actually his idea seeing as how not too many people cared that she even worked in this office. Though her birthday had passed several months ago, she kept the card on her desk and would stare at it from time to time, only reading one of the many signatures over and over. “You picked a great day to be born.” It read. She would repeat it out loud and smile sometimes blushing. I should just ask him out instead of playing hard to get, she thought to herself flashing back on the many times Alvin seemed to almost ask but froze when the time was right.
Her job wasn’t where she pictured herself to be at 24 years old but it wasn’t too bad. She started out as a temp agent but was soon hired for a full time position when management noticed her attention to detail. She was then moved to the fourth floor for filing which coincidentally was called department 4F. It was in here that Kiera spent most of her days diligently arranging the various files that came to her department via Alvin, the man who was the first to notice her smile.
Most of her day was spent alone yet Kiera’s desk drawers contained more than a dozen over the counter medicines for various everyday afflictions from colds and sinuses, to sneezing and headaches. The bottom drawer contained what some might think was enough Kleenex to wipe every nose in the fifty-five story building. This was a habit of hers. As a child she had been sick almost all the time. She drank flu solutions and other remedies with ease while others had to brace themselves. Most children did not want to play with her and most parents didn’t want their children around her as well. She got the nickname “Snot-box Ki-Ki” from one of the foster children she lived with. Not only was she always sick, the children would also make fun of her appearance. Growing up, Kiera’s identity crisis became apparent to her guardians when she began to wear dark lipstick and lip liner, along with baggy clothes and cornrows in her hair in an effort to look more black, but then the next year she would change and dress more like a teenage white girl with stockings and a skirt along with a button up shirt underneath a cardigan. Being mulatto was not easy for her.
Things changed the summer she turned sixteen. Inexplicably, the weight she had been trying to lose for so many years vanished within the course of two months. The head colds, runny noses and sneezing fits that she had grown accustomed to suddenly stopped. She hadn’t been sick a day in her life since then but was always afraid it would come back. She accredited this feat to the variety of medicines she took on a daily basis. It was this reason alone that kept her desk stocked with enough medicines to cure a small country.
While entering notes on her desktop an Outlook email indicator flashed on Kiera’s screen. Oh god…she hoped it wasn’t another lewd joke from Steve in accounting. She’d had enough of his antics and perverted looks. She opened the email to find that it was a reminder for the blood drive happening downstairs next to the big tree across from the bank. There would be free sub sandwiches and movie tickets for all that came down and participated. Her employers felt it was best to schedule these things on casual Fridays when everyone was more relaxed and ready for the weekend. Kiera wasn’t up on the latest trends but did look forward to dressing in her favorite pair of boy cut denims. This week she topped it off with a white open three quarter sleeve oxford that matched a white crew neck she tucked neatly into her jeans.
Kiera paused, adjusted her frameless glasses (which she didn’t need but liked how smart they made her look) then thought about what she would eat for lunch. Opening her bottom drawer for her purse it dawned on her that she had given her last five dollars to a homeless man while exiting I-95. Oh that’s right… darn it, what am I gonna eat? She looked back at the email then back into her drawer. Staring back at her was an open pack of stale saltines she’d brought from home last week along with an empty Evian water bottle. She shut the drawer somewhat upset with herself for giving away her last few dollars. She had only drawn blood a few times before when she was at the foster home. A doctor would come by to check on all the children to make sure they were all in good health. What was his name again? Dr. Mike? Light? Dwight ? No matter, she remembered how safe and calm she felt in his presence. Though she only saw him once a year his visits became something she looked forward to. He was her first crush. His brown eyes seemed to always smile back at hers. He stopped visiting the home around the time Kiera turned six or seven but she would always remember those eyes. They were almost Denzel Washington like, strong yet warm. She still kept the teddy bear he gave her on her dresser at home. Kiera snapped out of her trance when her stomach began to alert her to its current emptiness. Fine, free sub and save a life it is…
Kiera slid her feet into her Nike running shoes and slung her purse over her shoulder stuffing in it a book of poetry she kept with her at all times. The composition notebook was worn around its edges with most of its’ outside colored over in blue ink. It was also folded down the middle causing the pages to crease in making it difficult to write a sentence across the blue lines sometimes. She had been writing in it for years now and though she felt it was good, she never shared them with anyone.
As her luck would have it, the elevator was opening on her floor. As she headed for the open doors Alvin called out for her to hold on. She motioned to the occupants to wait and extended her arm to stop the doors from closing. Alvin half walked and half ran to the door, pretending to be out of breath when he arrived. His Converse sneakers were untied as usual with an untucked shirt to match.
“Thanks for waiting; I’m on my way to the blood drive. Where are you headed Ms. Vidal?” Kiera liked it when he called her that. Her light complexion made it easy to see when she was blushing. Wanda and Simone from the 9th floor were present and both sighed sarcastically upon seeing Kiera’s reaction. It wasn’t that Alvin was unattractive or anything but he was...Alvin. Everyone knew him around the office as the goofy guy with the always out of place curly hair that no woman took seriously. The men saw him as more of a pale faced geek that had no game when it came to women and probably wouldn’t know what to do with one if he had the chance. Kiera, mostly working by herself on the fourth floor, was not under the influence of office gossip therefore she saw him in a different light. He was funny and easy to talk to. His blue eyes seemed to smile at her green ones. He was a few years younger than she was but that didn’t matter. The way she saw it, it was destiny that brought them together. This same destiny would rip them apart in the next half an hour.
“I’m going to the blood drive also. I kind of gave all my money to a homeless guy and the crackers in my desk are so stale I may as well be eating ceramic tile. Maybe we could sit under the big tree and have lunch together?” She was doing it; she was taking that first step. Alvin’s face flashed red. He had intended on asking her the same thing. He practiced the speech a dozen times but now she had flipped things on him.
“Um, yeah... of course! I was gonna ask you but looks like you beat me to it.” He said nervously as the bell rang for the ground floor.
“Well alright, it’s a date. Let me grab something out of my car and I’ll meet you at the blood mobile, okay?”
“Sure, I’ll see you there.” It’s a date! Alvin couldn’t be happier. He made a noticeable dash to the blood mobile as if running there faster would somehow bend the laws of time and space so they could start their “date”. Kiera was happy. He may not have been the man of her dreams but he was a good guy with a good heart. The item in Kiera’s car was some perfume she kept in the glove compartment for special occasions. It had never been opened. It’s a date… She thought to herself, happy she had finally taken a step forward.
Once inside the cramped blood mobile Kiera saw her boss, Mr. Alexander Dawkins with a tube inserted into his arm filling a blood packet on the floor. Periodically he would squeeze a small stress reliever in order to keep the blood flowing. Mr. Dawkins reminded her of Baloo, the bear from the Jungle Book. He was a large man in his upper thirties who, at first glance, seemed very mean. Mention anything about Star Wars or Star Trek and you were in for an hour long conversation. He took a moment to stop staring out of the window at the rest of his employees sitting at what was known collectively as “the big tree” to greet Kiera with a head nod. Though he was a friendly man, he always made her feel nervous.
“Hello Mr. Dawkins, I’m surprised to see you here.” She wasn’t surprised to see him here. Mr. Dawkins made it his business to be anywhere else but at work doing his actual job.
“Ms. Vidal, so what’s it like seeing the sun for the first time in, what’s it been now, four months?” he let out an almost Santa Claus like laugh, slapping his thigh and thoroughly enjoying his own joke. He laughed a little too much for Kiera’s sake.
“Just about sir, but I don’t mind. Not too many people bother me and that helps me work better.”
“Well that’s great. We’ve got our eye on you Ms. Vidal. A person with your excellent work ethic and meticulous attention to detail is vital to this company. That’s why we snatched you from that temp agency! Temping’ ain’t easy!” This pun resulted in another stint of uproarious laughter for several moments. Kiera managed to crack a smile and even let out a small chuckle. It wasn’t so much that Mr. Dawkins was funny, it was more so because of how funny he was not.
Alvin had already completed the necessary paper work for the doctors and was being prepped for the procedure. He couldn’t get his mind off of Kiera. There was something about today that felt different then all the other days. As he stared at Kiera from his seat he wondered what it would be like to grow old with her. Sure, it was a bit presumptuous but it was his imagination and he could do with it whatever he so chose to do. Would her skin still have that same smooth creamy bronze look to it? How long would she keep her hair cut short like that or would she grow it back to the afro she had in a picture she once showed him from her youth? He pictured himself trying to keep up with her on her usual morning run and chuckled a bit when he saw himself running backwards and tripping on the pavement.
As he got lost in the beauty that was her as a whole, his thoughts lead way to an entire life with her. Kids were born and raised only to bring grandchildren home. The perfect house he pictured was sold and replaced by a cozy place somewhere up north where the seasons changed. He wondered what it would be like to die and be in heaven with her. He would only have to imagine dying just a little while longer before actually experiencing it.
Being that this blood mobile was really just a converted RV, Kiera felt almost at home. In her foster home, children had to occupy tight spaces and make them their own. She didn’t mind that the seat she decided to sit in put Mr. Dawkins’ feet right next to her face. It was almost cozy. The radio was tuned into Power 96, a station she didn’t listen to that often not because she wasn’t into popular music but more so because they had a tendency to play the same songs over and over again. One day while driving home she could have sworn they played Juveniles’ “Back that azz up” three times in less than one hour. She almost gave a sigh of relief out loud when they began to play the Fugees “Killing Me Softly”. Still though, Kiera tuned out the radio and decided to add onto a poem she had been working on while the nurse prepared a questionnaire for her. Just as she was about to open to her desired page, Alvin began to engage Mr. Dawkins in small talk. Whatever the conversation was about, it was Star Trek related, Kiera was sure of that.
“Ms Vidal?” Nurse Kelly had read Kiera’s name off of her security badge and handed her a clipboard and a pen, “Please fill out this form and take a seat near the rear when you are done.” Kiera refused the pen, pulling out a Cross pen with her name etched on the side. “Oh, I guess my pen isn’t good enough for you is it?” the nurse said with obviously heavy sarcasm.
“Oh, no it’s just a habit of mine to write with my own pen, girl you know how it is.” The nurse nodded but actually did not ‘know how it was’. Kiera picked up on that and reminded herself she had to loosen up a bit. As she filled out the questions she found herself laughing on the inside at a few of them. Have you ever had sex for money or drugs since 1977? What kind of question is that? She marked ‘no’ but still found it odd that this occurrence could happen so frequently as to warrant the question being added to the questionnaire. I guess it’s for those junkies who donate for money but why would they tell the truth about it?
After filling out the forms and handing them back to the nurse, she was asked to now sit in the last compartment at the rear of the vehicle which housed a laptop computer. Kiera was then asked a few simple questions about where she lived, her social security number, and had she ever donated before. This made her chuckle when she thought about the sex for money or drugs question but she straitened her face quickly afterwards. Kiera was then asked to move back to her original seat next to Mr. Dawkins feet. Nurse Kelly placed a 250ml beaker filled to about 200 or so milliliters of a blue solution. Kiera caught a glimpse of the name on the side. Copper Sulfate? Isn’t that found in hair dye? Nurse Kelly signaled for Kiera to place her right hand in her own then dipped a cotton swab in alcohol thoroughly scrubbing the tip of Kiera’s ring finger. The nurse then withdrew a small yellow device which Kiera surmised would be used to prick her finger in an effort to draw her blood. After a quick snapback the lancet was tossed into the trash as the nurse turned Kiera’s’ finger over the blue solution giving it a gentle squeeze. The blood dropped into the solution and within moments dissolved leaving a clear liquid in its place. What the hell? Were the only words that could come to mind for the nurse. Kiera could see this wasn’t normal just by looking at Kelly’s face.
“That’s odd…” she looked at Kiera then remembered she didn’t want her to panic” but its okay I’m sure I made a mistake…”
“Um, something wrong?” Kiera didn’t like the sound of that lie. Mistake my foot…
“Uh… no I must’ve grabbed the wrong solution. Just wait here a moment, okay?” That was unsettling. Something Kiera couldn’t explain was tugging at her heart, telling her this woman was lying. The nurse scurried to the front of the bus breaking the conversation Mr. Dawkins and Alvin were having for a moment. From this vantage point Kiera could not see what was happening at the front of the bus where the doctor was located but she knew it wasn’t good.
Dr. Stevenson was sure his new nurse had screwed something up again. The problem with these interning nurses was that most of them were only here to cash a check, or get some credit hours for school. They never seemed to care about doing a good job. He had been practicing medicine for almost two decades now and found the work ethic of young people to be deplorable. In any case, Nurse Kelly seemed very adamant about this so, of course, he would have to tend to her screw up.
Dr. Stevenson briskly walked in between the now heated debate over who made a better villain, Darth Maul or Darth Vader, to take a look at the now clear solution next to Kiera. He then reached into the upper cabinet and retrieved a new bottle of copper sulfate, pouring a generous amount into a new, sterile beaker.
“If you don’t mind Ms. Vidal.” He motioned for her right hand presenting a new pricking device. Kiera didn’t have to brace for the device this time but was still caught off guard when the needle hit her finger. The doctor turned her finger over the solution, squeezing a single drop. The results were the same. After a moment of bewilderment he exchanged glances with Nurse Kelly whose face screamed “I TOLD YOU SO!”, then refocused his attention back on Kiera. “Ms. Vidal, this is a rather odd occurrence. I would like to study this a bit further so if you’ll give me a moment….” He reached underneath the cabinet this time opening a drawer holding glass slides, retrieved one then sat it next to the second vial of clear liquid. Kiera’s finger was still ripe from the second prick. With a gentle squeeze he secured another drop of blood onto the slide, and then took it with him to the front of the bus where his laptop sat.
Could he be on to something? Hematology was his field of study and in his college days Dr. Stevenson was fondly known around campus as “Count” Stevenson. It was more than just a hobby with him and a few of his colleagues and this tasty morsel would surely make him the envy of his peers. He decided he would send his findings to a few of his buddies and let them salivate over the possibilities of what he may have found. Connected to his laptop was a device used to analyze blood samples. He inserted the slide and ran the program. What he saw would spell doom for all but one of the passengers in the bloodmobile.
If Dr. Allen Stevenson’s machine was working correctly, then what he saw in front of him was impossible. He analyzed it twice. Same result. He ran it again. Same result. This can’t be... there is just no way… Dr. Stevenson compiled this data onto a disc, simultaneously emailing his findings to several of his comrades. Wait until they get a load of this… Traveling at the speed of information the email went out to Dr. Stevenson’s closest compatriots, and one who was not…
….
Herbert Gray had what he liked to affectionately call “the boring-est job in the world.” He worked for a private security agency in Aventura not too far from the mall that made the city somewhere interesting to visit for those without tons of money. Though he’d never met his boss and didn’t have any co-workers he still managed to have a great deal of his version of ‘fun’ while at work.
All around the office were various toys from GI Joe and Transformers to a make shift hockey goal he’d placed around the large office space. In his desk drawers one could find an arsenal of toy Nerf guns, with enough ‘ammo’ to engage in a fairly long shoot out. On his desk were pictures of exotic sports cars he hoped to own when his payday came in. His job was simple. For the past three years all he had to do was scan the internet and intercept any emails having to do with blood, hematology, “the one” or “the key”, or any series of about six hundred or so keywords.
It wasn’t long before Herbert figured out that his boss was looking for something and whatever it was Herbert was going to get what he deserved for finding it one of these days. For three years without so much as a phone call, the underappreciated Herbert Gray slaved in front of a monitor for sometimes eighty hours a week. That thought alone almost made him happy he had no social life. If he did he would truly be upset for all the time he missed not being around people. In three years he’d given himself at least twelve promotions, from ‘assistant vice president of information’ all the way to “Lord of all I survey”. His was an existence he had not pictured for himself at forty three years old. He knew that once he sold this information back to his employer, the cash would finally ‘get him some’. Today was payday.
Herb leaned back in his chair occasionally wiping cheetos residue on to his shirt as his search program ran. He was enjoying The Fugees remix of the classic Roberta Flack song (though he will admit that the Al B. Sure version wasn’t that bad either) when the search engine he had developed came across not only the keywords he was looking for, but an attachment as well. Within seconds the email was opened and checked for authenticity. Once completed it then found the point of origin, brought up a recipients list which included names, addresses, social security numbers, current employers and current locations.
“Yes!” Herbert couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with joy. He would finally have the means to getting what he had been wanting for so long now. Herb read the email, turning down The Fugees just a tad. This was it. He picked up the phone and dialed the number he was given all those years ago. It rang once.
“Yes Mr. Gray.” The voice on the other end reminded Herbert of a customer service agent he’d once called when his cable had gone out for no reason.
“Um, yeah I have what you’ve been looking for. I read it myself and,” this was it, and this was his chance to turn the tables on them “and I’ll tell you where it is…”
“Did you say you read it?”
“Well, yeah, I had to make sure it was real.”
“Thank you Mr. Gray, your data has been uploaded to our server. That will be all. Have a nice day.” He was treated to silence for his trouble.
“Well, hey wait!”
Once Herbert heard the dial tone he knew he’d blown his one shot. He turned the radio back up and began to hum along with Lauren. Maybe now they were going to deposit a ton of cash in his bank account. He quickly opened a new web browser loading up the Bank of America website as fast as his T1 line would receive the information. Had he been just a bit more astute the pudgy balding virgin may have noticed the automatic hurricane shutters closing around the office windows. Had he not turned the radio up he may have heard the doors lock as well. In his defense, he would have had to have been super human to smell the gas that had just been pumped into the ventilation system into his office. His heart began to fail just as “Killing Me Softly” began to fade out into a commercial.
….
Mason’s phone rang one time. He answered with no hesitation and listened attentively to what the caller had to say. Mason raised a silver eyebrow as the information being passed along was digested then let out a single breath. He cleared his throat walked over to a window to take in the New York City skyline. The instructions he gave were simple. The caller thanked him for his time then hung up to carry out his wishes. Mason then placed the phone back on his desk, then grabbed his coat. He had a plane to catch.
….
In some ways nineteen year old Jackson Wright’s room resembled that of the average kid his age. For starters it was messy. Somewhere in there, there was food that was probably growing new life. A collection of video games for his many game systems were strewn about in an order only he could decipher. On the walls were posters of a few rappers, among them Canibus (his favorite) and Andre ‘3000’ Benjamin of OutKast. Where there wasn’t a poster there was a television.
This is where the similarities of the average kid his age stopped. On his walls were about sixty flat screened television sets each tuned to a different channel that he watched simultaneously from the comfort of his desk behind six computer screens. His brown eyes may have been tucked behind a pair of Kenneth Cole frameless glasses but that in no way meant he couldn’t see everything that was going on in his room. Amongst the noise he played a bit of Bach to, as he put it, “smooth everything out”.
Currently, Jackson was playing several games of online chess against a few of the world’s finest players. Some wondered if he had somehow been able to channel the likes of Emanuel Lasker when in a pinch. There are even rumors that Garry Kasparov “spars” with Jackson just to keep his game sharp. Nevertheless Jackson’s’ current opposition were all about to meet sudden death when an icon began to flash on one of his open desktops letting him know he’d received an email from a friend of his.
Dr. Stevenson? I wonder what the old bird thinks he has now… Jackson opened the email and its attachment. Within seconds he’d mated all of his matches, and ran out of the room yelling for his older brother.
Jackson found Kennedy in the weight room downstairs. He had just tacked on the last twenty-five pound weight to the bar. Jackson as always, ran a small calculation in his head and could see that his brother must’ve been trying to max out today. He had never seen Kennedy put this much on the bar before. Adding the weights plus the bar, Kennedy was about to lift four and a half times his body weight.
“Damn, Ken, nine forty-five? Don’t hurt yourself.”
“I won’t. What’s up, I heard you yelling all the way down here.” Kennedy sat on the bench then lay back under the bar.
“I think we got a hit this time. That Doctor I was telling you about, he sent me an email and it looks to be the real thing. I think we should check it out.” Kennedy took a deep breath then prepared himself mentally for the weight he was about to lift. He wiped a few signs of perspiration from his shadow fade and exhaled.
Just do five and you’re good… Kennedy relaxed every muscle in his body and closed his eyes. He then raised the bar and began to breathe.
“Start talking. One.”
“I got an email from that Doctor I was telling you about. I think he may be on to something. I want to go over here and check it out.”
“You sure this time? We don’t want another New York. Two.”
“I was thinking the same thing until I saw the attachment he sent with the email. WBC’s are off the chain. Metabolic reactions that shouldn’t be occurring are doing just that. Almost like us but different.” He noticed Kennedy looked calmer than usual as he went for his third lift. Almost as if he was thinking something. “What are you thinking bro?”
“If this is what we’re looking for, (three), then we better be ready for anything. Any word yet from your people in the streets about those guys from last time? Four.”
“A few whispers here and there but for the most part same as usual, no one knows anything. If they are here then hopefully we can get to her first.”
“Then let’s ride. Five.” Kennedy sat the weights back on the bar slowly showing total control of the lift. He didn’t seem winded at all. “Do you have any idea where they might be?”
“I took the liberty of memorizing his schedule so I know he’s doing work for the blood drive in downtown, but I can just call him and ask. How bout you drive?”
“Okay but I don’t want to hear anything about your rims getting scratched up,” Jackson turned on his heel to leave “And one more thing Jay… get the guns.” Jackson smiled inward and jogged excitedly with an almost military ‘yes sir!’ reverberating in his head.
….
The Bravo team set up a perimeter around the bloodmobile. Bravo team leader and ex-special forces captain, Howard “Dent” Denton surveyed the area alongside his second-in-command, Lt. Carl Banks, also ex-special forces. The two men served in the same company and were discharged for the same reason. Though a lot of what they did was still considered classified they faced a trial and were found guilty of treason and murder. Technically they should still be in “The Castle” but after a few deals were made, the two were able to ‘escape’ and are now considered fugitives. If asked if they were guilty of the crimes they allegedly committed they would quickly say “Yes.”
“Mason wants this one to be ugly Dent. How you wanna run it?” Denton removed his Ray Ban’s and took a puff from the cigar he kept on him at all times. He had an old habit he’d picked up a few years ago while in Detroit that bothered him to this day: he wanted to scratch his pinky and ring fingers on his left hand but couldn’t.
“If those boys are as smart as we know they are then they are gonna be here. Circle around and anything that looks like it might move, lay it down. Silencers on, we don’t wanna spook her if she’s still in there.” Banks made a motion on turn and give the orders when Dent stopped him. “And Lt. Banks make sure it’s her this time. No fuck ups. We move in five minutes.”
….
Dr. Stevenson’s cell phone rang. Kiera tried to listen in but couldn’t hear anything outside of Alvin and Mr. Dawkins debate. All she could make out was him giving the location of the bloodmobile and “…so you think you’ll be here in about ten minutes?” Everything else was him trying not to talk too loud in fear she may over hear. Nurse Kelly passed by the entrance between Kiera and the rest of the occupants and noticed two black SUV’s parked across the street. She counted at least twelve men who were all dressed in black like some sort of SWAT Unit she had seen on television.
“You guys should see all these cops outside.” Kelly said out loud “It looks like they are about to storm the building. Maybe it’s some kind of terrorist plot about to go down.” Mr. Dawkins and Alvin each took a peek out of the windows behind them then turned to begin forming their own theories as to why a SWAT team would be about to invade the building they were in.
“Well, someone from the office would have called if there was a huge problem.” Mr. Dawkins stated. Alvin then one-up’d him.
“Yeah, but what if they didn’t want the terrorist to know they were here so they had everyone to just act as if nothing were happening?” They went back and forth like that for a while until they both concluded that no matter what, something was about to go down.
The silence in the bloodmobile had become deafening. Kiera sat on the side of her chair now with Alvin and Mr. Dawkins who were done with their conversation and focused in on what seemed to be happening with her. Several minutes had passed since Dr. Stevenson had sent his email. Alvin could see that Kiera was shaken and decided to take what they had already built just before this venture to add a few brownie points. He sat next to her and took her hand. They were just as soft as he’d hoped they would be. His hands were cold and this sent a small chill through her body causing her skin to goose bump. They both smiled awkwardly at that phenomenon.
“Did you know that goose bumps serve no real purpose in human beings any more but animals still use them for some reason?” Alvin touched her arm inciting another fit of this seemingly useless reflex. Kiera tried not to blush but it was futile. “Did he tell you what was wrong?”
“No. Something is up though. He just got a call from someone and I guess they are on their way here. I knew I should have checked what I was giving that homeless guy instead of just handing him all my money. I’m always doing that, ya’ know?”
“It’s okay, Kiera, you’re a kind person and that’s the kind of thing kind people do. If it’s any consolation I once picked up a hitch hiker right on the turnpike and ended up having to buy my car back from some guys in Liberty City.” Kiera chuckled at the anecdote as Alvin went on to describe how uncomfortable it was standing in the parking lot of a Burger King with four armed men, trying to sell them on why his brand new Honda Civic was actually a piece of crap. “All in all, the ordeal cost me about six hundred bucks so I say I got it for a steal.” Kiera laughed out loud at that line as did Mr. Dawkins and Nurse Kelly who couldn’t help but listen in.
As the laughter went on Kiera felt another chill go down her body. It was unexpected as she was not cold this time, nor particularly excited about anything. Something inside her was telling her she needed to leave and she needed to do it now. This is taking way too long. I should be under the Big Tree with Alvin right now… Dr. Stevenson was still at the front of the blood mobile typing away at his computer. She could hear the click-clack of the keys along with a commercial on the radio for HyperMax energy drink.
She personally couldn’t stomach these drinks that seemed to take over not only the entire country, but the world as well. HyperMax was touted as being able to help athletes perform better for short periods of time and anyone that wanted a physical advantage in any sort of activity. What set this product apart from all other energy drinks was that it actually delivered on its promise. This drink single handedly changed the way most professional sports were played and was thusly banned from the Olympic Games. It was the perfect drink for those that could stomach it. Its effects only lasted a few minutes but made its shareholders billions. At first it was believed that a product with such extraordinary capabilities had to have some sort of illegal addictive substance. The McMillan Group, which owns the bottling plants (including the one in South Florida’s own Port Everglades) that make the drink came under fire a year or so after its introduction when three teenagers died from what looked to be a HyperMax overdose. The McMillan Group settled out of court with the parents for an undisclosed amount (though rumors were in the tens of millions) and since then the company has altered the formula. There have been no fatalities in the last forty years.
This particular commercial was introducing a new flavor (which wasn’t new, it was taken off the market fifteen years ago and was just being introduced to a new generation of kids) called Mountain Berry Max. Kiera cringed at the thought of the taste in her mouth. Granted she did like it as a kid, it seemed she couldn’t stand it as an adult.
Kiera heard the sound of a pane of glass breaking. It sounded like it came from the front of the vehicle and that struck her as odd. She turned to the front to see a small hole in the windshield. Instinctively her eyes followed the line of the hole in the window, past Dr. Stevenson, past Mr. Dawkins and finally to a red splatter on the rear door. She looked down to see Nurse Kelly’s eyes stare blankly into space as blood began to spill from the hole in her forehead. Just then the rear door swung open and a SWAT team member appeared, his weapon trained on Kiera. Alvin was frozen with fear and Mr. Dawkins didn’t seem to be doing any better himself. Mr. Dawkins managed to gain enough composure to look at Kiera who, from his perspective, was sporting a red dot on her forehead. Next to him was a box of syringes which he slowly reached for, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. He believed he was out of the gunman’s sight for now and this would be his chance to swing the momentum of this stand-off.
Dr. Stevenson ducked below the steering wheel then reached in his coat pocket for the keys to the bloodmobile. His sudden movement sent two more shots through the front of the vehicle now, neither hitting anyone inside. Mr. Dawkins had taken a handful of needles and removed the protective caps, then looked Kiera and Alvin in the face as to say, “On three, move your asses”. On a three count he then let out a yell and dived at the assailant plunging twelve syringes into his right arm. The attacker let out a yell tossing his gun near Kiera’s feet. Kiera grabbed Alvin by the arm and threw him to the ground just as a series of bullets riddled the area they were both just sitting at. It was at that moment Dr. Stevenson jammed the keys into the ignition bringing the RV to life. Still ducking behind the wheel, he released the brake and put it in drive. The beast roared forward when he slammed his hand on the accelerator and then jerked the wheel to the right, effectively shaking off the gunman.
“What the hell is going on! Why are they shooting at us?” Alvin had regained the ability to speak and tried to stand to his feet as the blood mobile swerved across a curb and into the Bayfront Park.
“Alvin get down!” Kiera shouted as a hail of bullets tore through the side of the vehicle. SHIT! Alvin slapped his hand on his neck as if he had just caught a mosquito. For a second or two he seemed totally fine and even managed to smile at Kiera. It wasn’t until he removed his hand that Kiera saw a small hole with blood pouring from it profusely. Alvin looked as if he wanted to say something but could not get the words out. His eyes said it all though. I’m sorry I waited this long to do anything. Then he collapsed.
“ALVIN!” Kiera lunged towards him but instead flew past him as the bus came to a crashing stop. Dr. Stevenson had collided with the side of a bank.
This couldn’t be any better, Denton thought as he surveyed the damage just caused by the botched get away. Now it could look like a bank robbery. He ordered his men to fall back and wait for movement. There seemed to be something coming from front of the vehicle. Banks ordered two men to check it out and almost ducked when he heard gun shots coming from the bloodmobile.
“FALLBACK! We’ll gas’em out!” His men then inserted custom gas mask into their nostrils and then lobbed a few tear grenades into the transformed recreational vehicle. Kiera had never fired a gun before and was still a bit rattled after the few rounds she let off. The sound of the glass breaking as the grenades began to dispense their contents had her trembling even more-so.
Crap! She immediately held her breath and closed her eyes. Inside of those moments of darkness she prayed this wasn’t happening. She knew that if she opened her eyes she would have to see the unthinkable. If she took one breath she would have to admit that this was really happening right now. Kiera did not want that and held tight as long as she thought she could. A few more seconds had passed and Mr. Dawkins along with Dr. Stevenson were both convulsing from the harmful effects of the gas.
Kiera opened her eyes not knowing what to expect. At first the gas stung but with one blink her eyes were fine. She dared not inhale though thinking the effects of the gas were not intended to blind. She needed to breathe but was too afraid to go outside. Her vision inside the cramped bloodmobile was clouded. Every cell in her body was telling her to breath or she would pass out. She ignored them for as long as she could but knew she couldn’t hold out much longer. Inhibitions aside, she took a breath.
Her breathing was normal.
“Kiera,” Mr. Dawkins was trying to tell her something, “your arm…” was all he managed to say before he was hit with a series of coughs. Kiera hadn’t felt the wound that went straight through her left bicep and exited her triceps. As soon as she noticed it she began to feel the sting of the injury. Kiera scanned the shelves to see what she could use as a bandage.
She reached into the upper shelf where the bandages were kept and began to wrap her arm. She knew it would only be a matter of time before those men would approach her location. Dr. Stevenson and Mr. Dawkins weren’t looking too good. As soon as she was done with her arm she tried to lift Mr. Dawkins but he was too heavy.
“Please Mr. Dawkins you have to try and stand up, those guys aren’t gonna stay out there forever.” Mr. Dawkins was trying his best to stand but his movements were sluggish. Whatever this gas was it wasn’t the average tear gas. She couldn’t leave Mr. Dawkins here though. She peeked out of the broken window and could see the men were about to make another approach. Grabbing Mr. Dawkins and holding him up to no avail, she closed her eyes and began to pray. Please God, help me…
What sounded like a crack of thunder to the men on approach to the Blood Mobile was music to Kiera’s ears.
….
“Get ready to take the wheel Jay; you should be able to handle most of these cats while I try to get those people out of harm’s way.” From an expanded sunroof in their custom Dodge Magnum, Jackson Wright had fired his AS50 from what most would consider an astonishing distance while accounting for wind and the fact that he and his brother were approaching a hot zone from almost 1500 yards away at sixty miles per hour. He had not switched the .50 caliber anti-sniper gun into full auto yet but had still managed to take out three hostiles in just as many shots in under eight seconds.
“No problem I got you covered. Heat signatures are clumped near the tail of the vehicle so it’s a safe bet she’s there but there are multiple unfriendly inbound on them. I’ll be coming in hot when you give me the signal.” Jackson ducked back into the Magnum as bullets began to bounce off the vehicles front end and windshield. He reemerged with a custom M32 grenade launcher and let off a smoke round to provide his brother much needed cover.
Once back inside Kennedy pressed a button under the steering wheel that shifted it from the left side of the vehicle to the right side effectively giving his brother control of the Magnum. He then cocked his twin Glock 37’s and made his way to the roof of the vehicle moving to the rear. When Jackson saw that his brother was in position he slung the car around catapulting Kennedy through the air and into the dense smoke.
Now airborne, Kennedy’s reflexes kicked in. He quickly assessed the situation from above as if he were taking a panoramic photo. Amidst the sounds of traffic and screams, he could hear guns reloading, heartbeats and heavy breathing. I got two on the left ducking behind those SUV’s and at least three more making their way to the bus. Is that who I think it is over there? Kennedy didn’t let his mind wander too far and pushed the incident with Denton to the rear (though the sight of Denton’s gloves was kinda funny to him.) Kennedy landed with a graceful tuck –n- roll and immediately began to empty his handguns into all opposition while making a b-line for the back of the bloodmobile.
“GOD DAMN IT SHOOT THAT MOTHER FUCKER!” Denton yelled as he retrieved a Heckler & Koch G36 and began to unload the weapon’s 100 round drum in the general direction Kennedy was heading. With only revenge on his mind Denton almost took down two of his own men in the process.
What looked like only a few seconds on the outside looking in seemed to take place in Kennedy’s mind in slow motion. Around him bodies were flying to and fro as muzzle flashes provided the location of his enemies. Kennedy could hear the sound of the G36’s contents floating his way and decided to take evasive actions to prevent them from doing their job effectively. The bullets were coming from his right side. He knew that at his current running speed he would be able stay ahead of them for only a few seconds more before getting to the blood mobile but then he would be stuck inside with a hail of mini missiles mixing with his insides.
Can’t have that… gotta get low. Kennedy slid headfirst as if diving for home plate and let the bullets sail over him. From Jackson’s vantage point he knew his brother was about to do something crazy and decided not to interrupt. Instead he put his attention on taking out the remaining henchmen when something caught his eye. A few stray shooters were near the back of the SUV’s peeling off lettering that read ‘SWAT’. Just as soon as this happened local news crews were arriving on the scene accompanied by a news helicopter.
What the hell? How did they get here that fast? Jackson hated asking himself questions he didn’t have the answers to. He took aim through the high powered lens of the AS50 and began to scan the area. The rifle was hooked in to an onboard computer and ran a program of Jackson’s own design. One component of the program was a pair of specially designed contact lenses which served as the interface for the targeting program. The user need only to look at an object, be it a vehicle or a person or weapon, and then blink for about a second. This would cause the Heads up Display (HUD) to appear. The HUD projects information in directly in front of the user in virtual space, as if the words were hanging in front of them about two feet away in the air. Selecting a target was as simple as looking at it then, using retinal scanning technology, along with infra red lighting to measure distance, one could effectively point at the target with their finger and ‘paint’ them friendly or unfriendly. In a tight situation, a person could also look at a target and navigate the system menus simply by moving their eyes and looking at the options in front of them, then blinking to confirm as if clicking a mouse. The program detected threats and tagged them, giving important info such as range, preliminary vital signs, heat signatures, and also color coordinated and separated threats and non-threats. Civilians were tagged blue while hostile threats were tagged red. An enemy firing a weapon would flash red. If the picture were clear enough the program could also tell Jackson what type of weapon an enemy was carrying and also predict that weapons current ammo status. Jackson had developed this system he called ‘Shoot 1st’ (as there was no need to ask questions later) to also work with a pair of contact lenses that his brother was wearing right now.
Kennedy had little time to think. Now with the blood mobile on his six and Denton on his eleven he decided to buy himself a little time. The remainder of the faux-SWAT team was converging on him quickly. One team member appeared directly in front of Kennedy through the dense smoke. Kennedy sprang to his feet pulling out his Glock and rushed the hired gun as if he were about to tackle him. Instinctively the mercenary tried to duck to avoid what he thought was about to be gun fire but was caught totally off guard when Kennedy somersaulted over him grabbing his left arm in mid flip hurling him almost 30 yards. Denton saw the body flying towards him but could not react in time. He was struck by the flying body and knocked off his feet. Lt. Banks watched these events from behind one of the SUV’s and tried his best not to be in awe of his enemies. In under a minute the Wrights had almost gone through their entire unit. Banks could see the news crews setting up shop and figured he and his men still had the upper hand.
With Denton out of the way for now, Kennedy made his way for the bloodmobile. Kiera was holding on to Mr. Dawkins tighter than ever now. She had peeked out from the door a moment ago to see a figure perform some peculiar gymnastics then hurl a body out of her sight. Oh god, he’s coming this way! She thought as the man ran towards her location.
“Ms. Vidal, come with me please,” Kennedy reached his hand into the doorway. “Jay, I’ve got eyes on the prize I just need you to watch over me.”
“No problem but we have to move fast. There are news crews out here and I’m picking up police chatter, they will be here in two minutes. Get her and bring your ass on bro.”
Kiera didn’t like this situation one bit. How did he know my name? Is all this for me? Who the heck are these people? “Mr. Dawkins is hurt and everyone else in here is dead, get him out first.” She demanded. Kiera took a look inside to see Alvin, his face still showed a smile.
“I’m not the police Ms. Vidal and I don’t have time to save your friend. Please trust me on this okay? Those men are not who they appear to be.” His words weren’t convincing enough for her. She grabbed the rifle from earlier and aimed it at Kennedy. Her hands shook profusely.
“If you’re not the police then who are you?” Kennedy put his hands in the air and tried not to make any sudden moves. Though she didn’t look like she wanted to kill him, he wasn’t sure if there were any rounds left in the rifle and didn’t want to take that chance.
“I will explain all of that but right now you need to come with me.” She looked him deep into his eyes. Why are they so familiar? Her mind raced and as it did so, police began to arrive on the scene.
“Kennedy! Get her and let’s go man!” Jackson shouted into the earpiece.
“Make a hole Jay, we still got a few guys breathing and I…” Just then, bullet holes appeared to the left of Kennedy before he could finish his sentence. In a single motion he grabbed Kiera’s weapon and slid his finger over hers and onto the trigger. Using his instincts over his brothers advanced contacts; he fired a short burst of rounds where he felt the threat was coming from. “Please Ms. Vidal we really don’t have time for this!”
“I’m not leaving my friends!”
This is some bullshit… Were the only words that came to Kennedy’s mind. He took a look at Mr. Dawkins and assessed that he had to be at least two hundred and fifty pounds. “Fine, you see that black Magnum over there?” she shook her head after following Kennedy’s finger pointing. “Haul ass to that car now.” With a slight grunt Kennedy slung Mr. Dawkins over his shoulders and began to sprint to his brother’s location.
“Ken, if you gotta knock that bitch out and drag her here then do it. There is way too much press and way too much heat on the way. By my calculations we are not going to make it out of here. Drop that fat bastard and get going now!”
“Shut-up Jay, I’m bringing him. Keep the cops busy and don’t shoot any of them!”
Great. Next he’ll want me to river dance for these bastards. Jackson made his way to the back of the car and pulled out some more ammunition for his grenade launcher. He would have to use non-lethal force for the police that were now arriving on the scene but still wanted things to go bang.
After a few moments Denton had regained himself and was now more pissed off than ever. He radioed in for the second phase of the plan to the remaining men. The media was right on-time of course, and the police were just now setting up a perimeter. He signaled for them to move on the bank and avoid the Wrights at all cost. Fuck a fair fight…he thought as the police helicopters and news choppers began to loom above them.
Running with a two hundred and something pound man across his shoulders wasn’t something Kennedy was used to doing. Jackson was a good hundred yards away and Kiera’s timid behavior still had her near the bloodmobile door.
“Ms. Vidal c’mon, we’ve got to get you out of here!” Kennedy waved as he sprinted to the custom Magnum. Jackson had since loaded his grenade launcher and fired a series of sting grenades at the cops now on the scene. This distracted them from his brother and Kiera for a moment allowing them a few more seconds to get to him. Once that was done, Jackson reached back into the Magnum and retrieved a custom AR-15 which also fed into his Shoot 1st program. “Ken you got some guys behind you man, I got no shot from here. “Drop that fat dude and let’s move! The cops are starting to shoot back!”
Kennedy wouldn’t hear any of it. He turned to see how far back Kiera was and just as he did he heard a series of gunfire erupt from all around him. Kennedy let his reflexes take total control over his actions and fired two shots from his Glock without so much as looking. Kiera let out a scream.
“ALEX!” Everything went silent for her. Kennedy was almost to the car when he realized that the man he was carrying was dead. “I’m not going anywhere with you! POLICE HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!” Kiera ran back into the bloodmobile as Kennedy slowly placed Mr. Dawkins on the ground.
“Damn it!” I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. Kennedy rolled his fingers over Mr. Dawkins eyes closing them shut.
“Jesus Christ Ken, she’s getting away and we don’t have time to grab her let’s go!” Jackson snapped. Kiera ran to the nearest police officer she could find and began to babble her story. Kennedy and Jackson sped off and thanks to a few anti pursuit devices of Jackson’s creation, were able to flee relatively undetected.
Denton ordered his men to search the bloodmobile. Banks returned with a vial that simple read: VIDAL, K.
All of this was now worth it.
Kiera’s desk was devoid of any personal affects. Except for a treasure troll with neon green hair that seemed to be standing guard in front of a birthday card signed by everyone in the office. Alvin made sure of that. The card was actually his idea seeing as how not too many people cared that she even worked in this office. Though her birthday had passed several months ago, she kept the card on her desk and would stare at it from time to time, only reading one of the many signatures over and over. “You picked a great day to be born.” It read. She would repeat it out loud and smile sometimes blushing. I should just ask him out instead of playing hard to get, she thought to herself flashing back on the many times Alvin seemed to almost ask but froze when the time was right.
Her job wasn’t where she pictured herself to be at 24 years old but it wasn’t too bad. She started out as a temp agent but was soon hired for a full time position when management noticed her attention to detail. She was then moved to the fourth floor for filing which coincidentally was called department 4F. It was in here that Kiera spent most of her days diligently arranging the various files that came to her department via Alvin, the man who was the first to notice her smile.
Most of her day was spent alone yet Kiera’s desk drawers contained more than a dozen over the counter medicines for various everyday afflictions from colds and sinuses, to sneezing and headaches. The bottom drawer contained what some might think was enough Kleenex to wipe every nose in the fifty-five story building. This was a habit of hers. As a child she had been sick almost all the time. She drank flu solutions and other remedies with ease while others had to brace themselves. Most children did not want to play with her and most parents didn’t want their children around her as well. She got the nickname “Snot-box Ki-Ki” from one of the foster children she lived with. Not only was she always sick, the children would also make fun of her appearance. Growing up, Kiera’s identity crisis became apparent to her guardians when she began to wear dark lipstick and lip liner, along with baggy clothes and cornrows in her hair in an effort to look more black, but then the next year she would change and dress more like a teenage white girl with stockings and a skirt along with a button up shirt underneath a cardigan. Being mulatto was not easy for her.
Things changed the summer she turned sixteen. Inexplicably, the weight she had been trying to lose for so many years vanished within the course of two months. The head colds, runny noses and sneezing fits that she had grown accustomed to suddenly stopped. She hadn’t been sick a day in her life since then but was always afraid it would come back. She accredited this feat to the variety of medicines she took on a daily basis. It was this reason alone that kept her desk stocked with enough medicines to cure a small country.
While entering notes on her desktop an Outlook email indicator flashed on Kiera’s screen. Oh god…she hoped it wasn’t another lewd joke from Steve in accounting. She’d had enough of his antics and perverted looks. She opened the email to find that it was a reminder for the blood drive happening downstairs next to the big tree across from the bank. There would be free sub sandwiches and movie tickets for all that came down and participated. Her employers felt it was best to schedule these things on casual Fridays when everyone was more relaxed and ready for the weekend. Kiera wasn’t up on the latest trends but did look forward to dressing in her favorite pair of boy cut denims. This week she topped it off with a white open three quarter sleeve oxford that matched a white crew neck she tucked neatly into her jeans.
Kiera paused, adjusted her frameless glasses (which she didn’t need but liked how smart they made her look) then thought about what she would eat for lunch. Opening her bottom drawer for her purse it dawned on her that she had given her last five dollars to a homeless man while exiting I-95. Oh that’s right… darn it, what am I gonna eat? She looked back at the email then back into her drawer. Staring back at her was an open pack of stale saltines she’d brought from home last week along with an empty Evian water bottle. She shut the drawer somewhat upset with herself for giving away her last few dollars. She had only drawn blood a few times before when she was at the foster home. A doctor would come by to check on all the children to make sure they were all in good health. What was his name again? Dr. Mike? Light? Dwight ? No matter, she remembered how safe and calm she felt in his presence. Though she only saw him once a year his visits became something she looked forward to. He was her first crush. His brown eyes seemed to always smile back at hers. He stopped visiting the home around the time Kiera turned six or seven but she would always remember those eyes. They were almost Denzel Washington like, strong yet warm. She still kept the teddy bear he gave her on her dresser at home. Kiera snapped out of her trance when her stomach began to alert her to its current emptiness. Fine, free sub and save a life it is…
Kiera slid her feet into her Nike running shoes and slung her purse over her shoulder stuffing in it a book of poetry she kept with her at all times. The composition notebook was worn around its edges with most of its’ outside colored over in blue ink. It was also folded down the middle causing the pages to crease in making it difficult to write a sentence across the blue lines sometimes. She had been writing in it for years now and though she felt it was good, she never shared them with anyone.
As her luck would have it, the elevator was opening on her floor. As she headed for the open doors Alvin called out for her to hold on. She motioned to the occupants to wait and extended her arm to stop the doors from closing. Alvin half walked and half ran to the door, pretending to be out of breath when he arrived. His Converse sneakers were untied as usual with an untucked shirt to match.
“Thanks for waiting; I’m on my way to the blood drive. Where are you headed Ms. Vidal?” Kiera liked it when he called her that. Her light complexion made it easy to see when she was blushing. Wanda and Simone from the 9th floor were present and both sighed sarcastically upon seeing Kiera’s reaction. It wasn’t that Alvin was unattractive or anything but he was...Alvin. Everyone knew him around the office as the goofy guy with the always out of place curly hair that no woman took seriously. The men saw him as more of a pale faced geek that had no game when it came to women and probably wouldn’t know what to do with one if he had the chance. Kiera, mostly working by herself on the fourth floor, was not under the influence of office gossip therefore she saw him in a different light. He was funny and easy to talk to. His blue eyes seemed to smile at her green ones. He was a few years younger than she was but that didn’t matter. The way she saw it, it was destiny that brought them together. This same destiny would rip them apart in the next half an hour.
“I’m going to the blood drive also. I kind of gave all my money to a homeless guy and the crackers in my desk are so stale I may as well be eating ceramic tile. Maybe we could sit under the big tree and have lunch together?” She was doing it; she was taking that first step. Alvin’s face flashed red. He had intended on asking her the same thing. He practiced the speech a dozen times but now she had flipped things on him.
“Um, yeah... of course! I was gonna ask you but looks like you beat me to it.” He said nervously as the bell rang for the ground floor.
“Well alright, it’s a date. Let me grab something out of my car and I’ll meet you at the blood mobile, okay?”
“Sure, I’ll see you there.” It’s a date! Alvin couldn’t be happier. He made a noticeable dash to the blood mobile as if running there faster would somehow bend the laws of time and space so they could start their “date”. Kiera was happy. He may not have been the man of her dreams but he was a good guy with a good heart. The item in Kiera’s car was some perfume she kept in the glove compartment for special occasions. It had never been opened. It’s a date… She thought to herself, happy she had finally taken a step forward.
Once inside the cramped blood mobile Kiera saw her boss, Mr. Alexander Dawkins with a tube inserted into his arm filling a blood packet on the floor. Periodically he would squeeze a small stress reliever in order to keep the blood flowing. Mr. Dawkins reminded her of Baloo, the bear from the Jungle Book. He was a large man in his upper thirties who, at first glance, seemed very mean. Mention anything about Star Wars or Star Trek and you were in for an hour long conversation. He took a moment to stop staring out of the window at the rest of his employees sitting at what was known collectively as “the big tree” to greet Kiera with a head nod. Though he was a friendly man, he always made her feel nervous.
“Hello Mr. Dawkins, I’m surprised to see you here.” She wasn’t surprised to see him here. Mr. Dawkins made it his business to be anywhere else but at work doing his actual job.
“Ms. Vidal, so what’s it like seeing the sun for the first time in, what’s it been now, four months?” he let out an almost Santa Claus like laugh, slapping his thigh and thoroughly enjoying his own joke. He laughed a little too much for Kiera’s sake.
“Just about sir, but I don’t mind. Not too many people bother me and that helps me work better.”
“Well that’s great. We’ve got our eye on you Ms. Vidal. A person with your excellent work ethic and meticulous attention to detail is vital to this company. That’s why we snatched you from that temp agency! Temping’ ain’t easy!” This pun resulted in another stint of uproarious laughter for several moments. Kiera managed to crack a smile and even let out a small chuckle. It wasn’t so much that Mr. Dawkins was funny, it was more so because of how funny he was not.
Alvin had already completed the necessary paper work for the doctors and was being prepped for the procedure. He couldn’t get his mind off of Kiera. There was something about today that felt different then all the other days. As he stared at Kiera from his seat he wondered what it would be like to grow old with her. Sure, it was a bit presumptuous but it was his imagination and he could do with it whatever he so chose to do. Would her skin still have that same smooth creamy bronze look to it? How long would she keep her hair cut short like that or would she grow it back to the afro she had in a picture she once showed him from her youth? He pictured himself trying to keep up with her on her usual morning run and chuckled a bit when he saw himself running backwards and tripping on the pavement.
As he got lost in the beauty that was her as a whole, his thoughts lead way to an entire life with her. Kids were born and raised only to bring grandchildren home. The perfect house he pictured was sold and replaced by a cozy place somewhere up north where the seasons changed. He wondered what it would be like to die and be in heaven with her. He would only have to imagine dying just a little while longer before actually experiencing it.
Being that this blood mobile was really just a converted RV, Kiera felt almost at home. In her foster home, children had to occupy tight spaces and make them their own. She didn’t mind that the seat she decided to sit in put Mr. Dawkins’ feet right next to her face. It was almost cozy. The radio was tuned into Power 96, a station she didn’t listen to that often not because she wasn’t into popular music but more so because they had a tendency to play the same songs over and over again. One day while driving home she could have sworn they played Juveniles’ “Back that azz up” three times in less than one hour. She almost gave a sigh of relief out loud when they began to play the Fugees “Killing Me Softly”. Still though, Kiera tuned out the radio and decided to add onto a poem she had been working on while the nurse prepared a questionnaire for her. Just as she was about to open to her desired page, Alvin began to engage Mr. Dawkins in small talk. Whatever the conversation was about, it was Star Trek related, Kiera was sure of that.
“Ms Vidal?” Nurse Kelly had read Kiera’s name off of her security badge and handed her a clipboard and a pen, “Please fill out this form and take a seat near the rear when you are done.” Kiera refused the pen, pulling out a Cross pen with her name etched on the side. “Oh, I guess my pen isn’t good enough for you is it?” the nurse said with obviously heavy sarcasm.
“Oh, no it’s just a habit of mine to write with my own pen, girl you know how it is.” The nurse nodded but actually did not ‘know how it was’. Kiera picked up on that and reminded herself she had to loosen up a bit. As she filled out the questions she found herself laughing on the inside at a few of them. Have you ever had sex for money or drugs since 1977? What kind of question is that? She marked ‘no’ but still found it odd that this occurrence could happen so frequently as to warrant the question being added to the questionnaire. I guess it’s for those junkies who donate for money but why would they tell the truth about it?
After filling out the forms and handing them back to the nurse, she was asked to now sit in the last compartment at the rear of the vehicle which housed a laptop computer. Kiera was then asked a few simple questions about where she lived, her social security number, and had she ever donated before. This made her chuckle when she thought about the sex for money or drugs question but she straitened her face quickly afterwards. Kiera was then asked to move back to her original seat next to Mr. Dawkins feet. Nurse Kelly placed a 250ml beaker filled to about 200 or so milliliters of a blue solution. Kiera caught a glimpse of the name on the side. Copper Sulfate? Isn’t that found in hair dye? Nurse Kelly signaled for Kiera to place her right hand in her own then dipped a cotton swab in alcohol thoroughly scrubbing the tip of Kiera’s ring finger. The nurse then withdrew a small yellow device which Kiera surmised would be used to prick her finger in an effort to draw her blood. After a quick snapback the lancet was tossed into the trash as the nurse turned Kiera’s’ finger over the blue solution giving it a gentle squeeze. The blood dropped into the solution and within moments dissolved leaving a clear liquid in its place. What the hell? Were the only words that could come to mind for the nurse. Kiera could see this wasn’t normal just by looking at Kelly’s face.
“That’s odd…” she looked at Kiera then remembered she didn’t want her to panic” but its okay I’m sure I made a mistake…”
“Um, something wrong?” Kiera didn’t like the sound of that lie. Mistake my foot…
“Uh… no I must’ve grabbed the wrong solution. Just wait here a moment, okay?” That was unsettling. Something Kiera couldn’t explain was tugging at her heart, telling her this woman was lying. The nurse scurried to the front of the bus breaking the conversation Mr. Dawkins and Alvin were having for a moment. From this vantage point Kiera could not see what was happening at the front of the bus where the doctor was located but she knew it wasn’t good.
Dr. Stevenson was sure his new nurse had screwed something up again. The problem with these interning nurses was that most of them were only here to cash a check, or get some credit hours for school. They never seemed to care about doing a good job. He had been practicing medicine for almost two decades now and found the work ethic of young people to be deplorable. In any case, Nurse Kelly seemed very adamant about this so, of course, he would have to tend to her screw up.
Dr. Stevenson briskly walked in between the now heated debate over who made a better villain, Darth Maul or Darth Vader, to take a look at the now clear solution next to Kiera. He then reached into the upper cabinet and retrieved a new bottle of copper sulfate, pouring a generous amount into a new, sterile beaker.
“If you don’t mind Ms. Vidal.” He motioned for her right hand presenting a new pricking device. Kiera didn’t have to brace for the device this time but was still caught off guard when the needle hit her finger. The doctor turned her finger over the solution, squeezing a single drop. The results were the same. After a moment of bewilderment he exchanged glances with Nurse Kelly whose face screamed “I TOLD YOU SO!”, then refocused his attention back on Kiera. “Ms. Vidal, this is a rather odd occurrence. I would like to study this a bit further so if you’ll give me a moment….” He reached underneath the cabinet this time opening a drawer holding glass slides, retrieved one then sat it next to the second vial of clear liquid. Kiera’s finger was still ripe from the second prick. With a gentle squeeze he secured another drop of blood onto the slide, and then took it with him to the front of the bus where his laptop sat.
Could he be on to something? Hematology was his field of study and in his college days Dr. Stevenson was fondly known around campus as “Count” Stevenson. It was more than just a hobby with him and a few of his colleagues and this tasty morsel would surely make him the envy of his peers. He decided he would send his findings to a few of his buddies and let them salivate over the possibilities of what he may have found. Connected to his laptop was a device used to analyze blood samples. He inserted the slide and ran the program. What he saw would spell doom for all but one of the passengers in the bloodmobile.
If Dr. Allen Stevenson’s machine was working correctly, then what he saw in front of him was impossible. He analyzed it twice. Same result. He ran it again. Same result. This can’t be... there is just no way… Dr. Stevenson compiled this data onto a disc, simultaneously emailing his findings to several of his comrades. Wait until they get a load of this… Traveling at the speed of information the email went out to Dr. Stevenson’s closest compatriots, and one who was not…
….
Herbert Gray had what he liked to affectionately call “the boring-est job in the world.” He worked for a private security agency in Aventura not too far from the mall that made the city somewhere interesting to visit for those without tons of money. Though he’d never met his boss and didn’t have any co-workers he still managed to have a great deal of his version of ‘fun’ while at work.
All around the office were various toys from GI Joe and Transformers to a make shift hockey goal he’d placed around the large office space. In his desk drawers one could find an arsenal of toy Nerf guns, with enough ‘ammo’ to engage in a fairly long shoot out. On his desk were pictures of exotic sports cars he hoped to own when his payday came in. His job was simple. For the past three years all he had to do was scan the internet and intercept any emails having to do with blood, hematology, “the one” or “the key”, or any series of about six hundred or so keywords.
It wasn’t long before Herbert figured out that his boss was looking for something and whatever it was Herbert was going to get what he deserved for finding it one of these days. For three years without so much as a phone call, the underappreciated Herbert Gray slaved in front of a monitor for sometimes eighty hours a week. That thought alone almost made him happy he had no social life. If he did he would truly be upset for all the time he missed not being around people. In three years he’d given himself at least twelve promotions, from ‘assistant vice president of information’ all the way to “Lord of all I survey”. His was an existence he had not pictured for himself at forty three years old. He knew that once he sold this information back to his employer, the cash would finally ‘get him some’. Today was payday.
Herb leaned back in his chair occasionally wiping cheetos residue on to his shirt as his search program ran. He was enjoying The Fugees remix of the classic Roberta Flack song (though he will admit that the Al B. Sure version wasn’t that bad either) when the search engine he had developed came across not only the keywords he was looking for, but an attachment as well. Within seconds the email was opened and checked for authenticity. Once completed it then found the point of origin, brought up a recipients list which included names, addresses, social security numbers, current employers and current locations.
“Yes!” Herbert couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with joy. He would finally have the means to getting what he had been wanting for so long now. Herb read the email, turning down The Fugees just a tad. This was it. He picked up the phone and dialed the number he was given all those years ago. It rang once.
“Yes Mr. Gray.” The voice on the other end reminded Herbert of a customer service agent he’d once called when his cable had gone out for no reason.
“Um, yeah I have what you’ve been looking for. I read it myself and,” this was it, and this was his chance to turn the tables on them “and I’ll tell you where it is…”
“Did you say you read it?”
“Well, yeah, I had to make sure it was real.”
“Thank you Mr. Gray, your data has been uploaded to our server. That will be all. Have a nice day.” He was treated to silence for his trouble.
“Well, hey wait!”
Once Herbert heard the dial tone he knew he’d blown his one shot. He turned the radio back up and began to hum along with Lauren. Maybe now they were going to deposit a ton of cash in his bank account. He quickly opened a new web browser loading up the Bank of America website as fast as his T1 line would receive the information. Had he been just a bit more astute the pudgy balding virgin may have noticed the automatic hurricane shutters closing around the office windows. Had he not turned the radio up he may have heard the doors lock as well. In his defense, he would have had to have been super human to smell the gas that had just been pumped into the ventilation system into his office. His heart began to fail just as “Killing Me Softly” began to fade out into a commercial.
….
Mason’s phone rang one time. He answered with no hesitation and listened attentively to what the caller had to say. Mason raised a silver eyebrow as the information being passed along was digested then let out a single breath. He cleared his throat walked over to a window to take in the New York City skyline. The instructions he gave were simple. The caller thanked him for his time then hung up to carry out his wishes. Mason then placed the phone back on his desk, then grabbed his coat. He had a plane to catch.
….
In some ways nineteen year old Jackson Wright’s room resembled that of the average kid his age. For starters it was messy. Somewhere in there, there was food that was probably growing new life. A collection of video games for his many game systems were strewn about in an order only he could decipher. On the walls were posters of a few rappers, among them Canibus (his favorite) and Andre ‘3000’ Benjamin of OutKast. Where there wasn’t a poster there was a television.
This is where the similarities of the average kid his age stopped. On his walls were about sixty flat screened television sets each tuned to a different channel that he watched simultaneously from the comfort of his desk behind six computer screens. His brown eyes may have been tucked behind a pair of Kenneth Cole frameless glasses but that in no way meant he couldn’t see everything that was going on in his room. Amongst the noise he played a bit of Bach to, as he put it, “smooth everything out”.
Currently, Jackson was playing several games of online chess against a few of the world’s finest players. Some wondered if he had somehow been able to channel the likes of Emanuel Lasker when in a pinch. There are even rumors that Garry Kasparov “spars” with Jackson just to keep his game sharp. Nevertheless Jackson’s’ current opposition were all about to meet sudden death when an icon began to flash on one of his open desktops letting him know he’d received an email from a friend of his.
Dr. Stevenson? I wonder what the old bird thinks he has now… Jackson opened the email and its attachment. Within seconds he’d mated all of his matches, and ran out of the room yelling for his older brother.
Jackson found Kennedy in the weight room downstairs. He had just tacked on the last twenty-five pound weight to the bar. Jackson as always, ran a small calculation in his head and could see that his brother must’ve been trying to max out today. He had never seen Kennedy put this much on the bar before. Adding the weights plus the bar, Kennedy was about to lift four and a half times his body weight.
“Damn, Ken, nine forty-five? Don’t hurt yourself.”
“I won’t. What’s up, I heard you yelling all the way down here.” Kennedy sat on the bench then lay back under the bar.
“I think we got a hit this time. That Doctor I was telling you about, he sent me an email and it looks to be the real thing. I think we should check it out.” Kennedy took a deep breath then prepared himself mentally for the weight he was about to lift. He wiped a few signs of perspiration from his shadow fade and exhaled.
Just do five and you’re good… Kennedy relaxed every muscle in his body and closed his eyes. He then raised the bar and began to breathe.
“Start talking. One.”
“I got an email from that Doctor I was telling you about. I think he may be on to something. I want to go over here and check it out.”
“You sure this time? We don’t want another New York. Two.”
“I was thinking the same thing until I saw the attachment he sent with the email. WBC’s are off the chain. Metabolic reactions that shouldn’t be occurring are doing just that. Almost like us but different.” He noticed Kennedy looked calmer than usual as he went for his third lift. Almost as if he was thinking something. “What are you thinking bro?”
“If this is what we’re looking for, (three), then we better be ready for anything. Any word yet from your people in the streets about those guys from last time? Four.”
“A few whispers here and there but for the most part same as usual, no one knows anything. If they are here then hopefully we can get to her first.”
“Then let’s ride. Five.” Kennedy sat the weights back on the bar slowly showing total control of the lift. He didn’t seem winded at all. “Do you have any idea where they might be?”
“I took the liberty of memorizing his schedule so I know he’s doing work for the blood drive in downtown, but I can just call him and ask. How bout you drive?”
“Okay but I don’t want to hear anything about your rims getting scratched up,” Jackson turned on his heel to leave “And one more thing Jay… get the guns.” Jackson smiled inward and jogged excitedly with an almost military ‘yes sir!’ reverberating in his head.
….
The Bravo team set up a perimeter around the bloodmobile. Bravo team leader and ex-special forces captain, Howard “Dent” Denton surveyed the area alongside his second-in-command, Lt. Carl Banks, also ex-special forces. The two men served in the same company and were discharged for the same reason. Though a lot of what they did was still considered classified they faced a trial and were found guilty of treason and murder. Technically they should still be in “The Castle” but after a few deals were made, the two were able to ‘escape’ and are now considered fugitives. If asked if they were guilty of the crimes they allegedly committed they would quickly say “Yes.”
“Mason wants this one to be ugly Dent. How you wanna run it?” Denton removed his Ray Ban’s and took a puff from the cigar he kept on him at all times. He had an old habit he’d picked up a few years ago while in Detroit that bothered him to this day: he wanted to scratch his pinky and ring fingers on his left hand but couldn’t.
“If those boys are as smart as we know they are then they are gonna be here. Circle around and anything that looks like it might move, lay it down. Silencers on, we don’t wanna spook her if she’s still in there.” Banks made a motion on turn and give the orders when Dent stopped him. “And Lt. Banks make sure it’s her this time. No fuck ups. We move in five minutes.”
….
Dr. Stevenson’s cell phone rang. Kiera tried to listen in but couldn’t hear anything outside of Alvin and Mr. Dawkins debate. All she could make out was him giving the location of the bloodmobile and “…so you think you’ll be here in about ten minutes?” Everything else was him trying not to talk too loud in fear she may over hear. Nurse Kelly passed by the entrance between Kiera and the rest of the occupants and noticed two black SUV’s parked across the street. She counted at least twelve men who were all dressed in black like some sort of SWAT Unit she had seen on television.
“You guys should see all these cops outside.” Kelly said out loud “It looks like they are about to storm the building. Maybe it’s some kind of terrorist plot about to go down.” Mr. Dawkins and Alvin each took a peek out of the windows behind them then turned to begin forming their own theories as to why a SWAT team would be about to invade the building they were in.
“Well, someone from the office would have called if there was a huge problem.” Mr. Dawkins stated. Alvin then one-up’d him.
“Yeah, but what if they didn’t want the terrorist to know they were here so they had everyone to just act as if nothing were happening?” They went back and forth like that for a while until they both concluded that no matter what, something was about to go down.
The silence in the bloodmobile had become deafening. Kiera sat on the side of her chair now with Alvin and Mr. Dawkins who were done with their conversation and focused in on what seemed to be happening with her. Several minutes had passed since Dr. Stevenson had sent his email. Alvin could see that Kiera was shaken and decided to take what they had already built just before this venture to add a few brownie points. He sat next to her and took her hand. They were just as soft as he’d hoped they would be. His hands were cold and this sent a small chill through her body causing her skin to goose bump. They both smiled awkwardly at that phenomenon.
“Did you know that goose bumps serve no real purpose in human beings any more but animals still use them for some reason?” Alvin touched her arm inciting another fit of this seemingly useless reflex. Kiera tried not to blush but it was futile. “Did he tell you what was wrong?”
“No. Something is up though. He just got a call from someone and I guess they are on their way here. I knew I should have checked what I was giving that homeless guy instead of just handing him all my money. I’m always doing that, ya’ know?”
“It’s okay, Kiera, you’re a kind person and that’s the kind of thing kind people do. If it’s any consolation I once picked up a hitch hiker right on the turnpike and ended up having to buy my car back from some guys in Liberty City.” Kiera chuckled at the anecdote as Alvin went on to describe how uncomfortable it was standing in the parking lot of a Burger King with four armed men, trying to sell them on why his brand new Honda Civic was actually a piece of crap. “All in all, the ordeal cost me about six hundred bucks so I say I got it for a steal.” Kiera laughed out loud at that line as did Mr. Dawkins and Nurse Kelly who couldn’t help but listen in.
As the laughter went on Kiera felt another chill go down her body. It was unexpected as she was not cold this time, nor particularly excited about anything. Something inside her was telling her she needed to leave and she needed to do it now. This is taking way too long. I should be under the Big Tree with Alvin right now… Dr. Stevenson was still at the front of the blood mobile typing away at his computer. She could hear the click-clack of the keys along with a commercial on the radio for HyperMax energy drink.
She personally couldn’t stomach these drinks that seemed to take over not only the entire country, but the world as well. HyperMax was touted as being able to help athletes perform better for short periods of time and anyone that wanted a physical advantage in any sort of activity. What set this product apart from all other energy drinks was that it actually delivered on its promise. This drink single handedly changed the way most professional sports were played and was thusly banned from the Olympic Games. It was the perfect drink for those that could stomach it. Its effects only lasted a few minutes but made its shareholders billions. At first it was believed that a product with such extraordinary capabilities had to have some sort of illegal addictive substance. The McMillan Group, which owns the bottling plants (including the one in South Florida’s own Port Everglades) that make the drink came under fire a year or so after its introduction when three teenagers died from what looked to be a HyperMax overdose. The McMillan Group settled out of court with the parents for an undisclosed amount (though rumors were in the tens of millions) and since then the company has altered the formula. There have been no fatalities in the last forty years.
This particular commercial was introducing a new flavor (which wasn’t new, it was taken off the market fifteen years ago and was just being introduced to a new generation of kids) called Mountain Berry Max. Kiera cringed at the thought of the taste in her mouth. Granted she did like it as a kid, it seemed she couldn’t stand it as an adult.
Kiera heard the sound of a pane of glass breaking. It sounded like it came from the front of the vehicle and that struck her as odd. She turned to the front to see a small hole in the windshield. Instinctively her eyes followed the line of the hole in the window, past Dr. Stevenson, past Mr. Dawkins and finally to a red splatter on the rear door. She looked down to see Nurse Kelly’s eyes stare blankly into space as blood began to spill from the hole in her forehead. Just then the rear door swung open and a SWAT team member appeared, his weapon trained on Kiera. Alvin was frozen with fear and Mr. Dawkins didn’t seem to be doing any better himself. Mr. Dawkins managed to gain enough composure to look at Kiera who, from his perspective, was sporting a red dot on her forehead. Next to him was a box of syringes which he slowly reached for, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. He believed he was out of the gunman’s sight for now and this would be his chance to swing the momentum of this stand-off.
Dr. Stevenson ducked below the steering wheel then reached in his coat pocket for the keys to the bloodmobile. His sudden movement sent two more shots through the front of the vehicle now, neither hitting anyone inside. Mr. Dawkins had taken a handful of needles and removed the protective caps, then looked Kiera and Alvin in the face as to say, “On three, move your asses”. On a three count he then let out a yell and dived at the assailant plunging twelve syringes into his right arm. The attacker let out a yell tossing his gun near Kiera’s feet. Kiera grabbed Alvin by the arm and threw him to the ground just as a series of bullets riddled the area they were both just sitting at. It was at that moment Dr. Stevenson jammed the keys into the ignition bringing the RV to life. Still ducking behind the wheel, he released the brake and put it in drive. The beast roared forward when he slammed his hand on the accelerator and then jerked the wheel to the right, effectively shaking off the gunman.
“What the hell is going on! Why are they shooting at us?” Alvin had regained the ability to speak and tried to stand to his feet as the blood mobile swerved across a curb and into the Bayfront Park.
“Alvin get down!” Kiera shouted as a hail of bullets tore through the side of the vehicle. SHIT! Alvin slapped his hand on his neck as if he had just caught a mosquito. For a second or two he seemed totally fine and even managed to smile at Kiera. It wasn’t until he removed his hand that Kiera saw a small hole with blood pouring from it profusely. Alvin looked as if he wanted to say something but could not get the words out. His eyes said it all though. I’m sorry I waited this long to do anything. Then he collapsed.
“ALVIN!” Kiera lunged towards him but instead flew past him as the bus came to a crashing stop. Dr. Stevenson had collided with the side of a bank.
This couldn’t be any better, Denton thought as he surveyed the damage just caused by the botched get away. Now it could look like a bank robbery. He ordered his men to fall back and wait for movement. There seemed to be something coming from front of the vehicle. Banks ordered two men to check it out and almost ducked when he heard gun shots coming from the bloodmobile.
“FALLBACK! We’ll gas’em out!” His men then inserted custom gas mask into their nostrils and then lobbed a few tear grenades into the transformed recreational vehicle. Kiera had never fired a gun before and was still a bit rattled after the few rounds she let off. The sound of the glass breaking as the grenades began to dispense their contents had her trembling even more-so.
Crap! She immediately held her breath and closed her eyes. Inside of those moments of darkness she prayed this wasn’t happening. She knew that if she opened her eyes she would have to see the unthinkable. If she took one breath she would have to admit that this was really happening right now. Kiera did not want that and held tight as long as she thought she could. A few more seconds had passed and Mr. Dawkins along with Dr. Stevenson were both convulsing from the harmful effects of the gas.
Kiera opened her eyes not knowing what to expect. At first the gas stung but with one blink her eyes were fine. She dared not inhale though thinking the effects of the gas were not intended to blind. She needed to breathe but was too afraid to go outside. Her vision inside the cramped bloodmobile was clouded. Every cell in her body was telling her to breath or she would pass out. She ignored them for as long as she could but knew she couldn’t hold out much longer. Inhibitions aside, she took a breath.
Her breathing was normal.
“Kiera,” Mr. Dawkins was trying to tell her something, “your arm…” was all he managed to say before he was hit with a series of coughs. Kiera hadn’t felt the wound that went straight through her left bicep and exited her triceps. As soon as she noticed it she began to feel the sting of the injury. Kiera scanned the shelves to see what she could use as a bandage.
She reached into the upper shelf where the bandages were kept and began to wrap her arm. She knew it would only be a matter of time before those men would approach her location. Dr. Stevenson and Mr. Dawkins weren’t looking too good. As soon as she was done with her arm she tried to lift Mr. Dawkins but he was too heavy.
“Please Mr. Dawkins you have to try and stand up, those guys aren’t gonna stay out there forever.” Mr. Dawkins was trying his best to stand but his movements were sluggish. Whatever this gas was it wasn’t the average tear gas. She couldn’t leave Mr. Dawkins here though. She peeked out of the broken window and could see the men were about to make another approach. Grabbing Mr. Dawkins and holding him up to no avail, she closed her eyes and began to pray. Please God, help me…
What sounded like a crack of thunder to the men on approach to the Blood Mobile was music to Kiera’s ears.
….
“Get ready to take the wheel Jay; you should be able to handle most of these cats while I try to get those people out of harm’s way.” From an expanded sunroof in their custom Dodge Magnum, Jackson Wright had fired his AS50 from what most would consider an astonishing distance while accounting for wind and the fact that he and his brother were approaching a hot zone from almost 1500 yards away at sixty miles per hour. He had not switched the .50 caliber anti-sniper gun into full auto yet but had still managed to take out three hostiles in just as many shots in under eight seconds.
“No problem I got you covered. Heat signatures are clumped near the tail of the vehicle so it’s a safe bet she’s there but there are multiple unfriendly inbound on them. I’ll be coming in hot when you give me the signal.” Jackson ducked back into the Magnum as bullets began to bounce off the vehicles front end and windshield. He reemerged with a custom M32 grenade launcher and let off a smoke round to provide his brother much needed cover.
Once back inside Kennedy pressed a button under the steering wheel that shifted it from the left side of the vehicle to the right side effectively giving his brother control of the Magnum. He then cocked his twin Glock 37’s and made his way to the roof of the vehicle moving to the rear. When Jackson saw that his brother was in position he slung the car around catapulting Kennedy through the air and into the dense smoke.
Now airborne, Kennedy’s reflexes kicked in. He quickly assessed the situation from above as if he were taking a panoramic photo. Amidst the sounds of traffic and screams, he could hear guns reloading, heartbeats and heavy breathing. I got two on the left ducking behind those SUV’s and at least three more making their way to the bus. Is that who I think it is over there? Kennedy didn’t let his mind wander too far and pushed the incident with Denton to the rear (though the sight of Denton’s gloves was kinda funny to him.) Kennedy landed with a graceful tuck –n- roll and immediately began to empty his handguns into all opposition while making a b-line for the back of the bloodmobile.
“GOD DAMN IT SHOOT THAT MOTHER FUCKER!” Denton yelled as he retrieved a Heckler & Koch G36 and began to unload the weapon’s 100 round drum in the general direction Kennedy was heading. With only revenge on his mind Denton almost took down two of his own men in the process.
What looked like only a few seconds on the outside looking in seemed to take place in Kennedy’s mind in slow motion. Around him bodies were flying to and fro as muzzle flashes provided the location of his enemies. Kennedy could hear the sound of the G36’s contents floating his way and decided to take evasive actions to prevent them from doing their job effectively. The bullets were coming from his right side. He knew that at his current running speed he would be able stay ahead of them for only a few seconds more before getting to the blood mobile but then he would be stuck inside with a hail of mini missiles mixing with his insides.
Can’t have that… gotta get low. Kennedy slid headfirst as if diving for home plate and let the bullets sail over him. From Jackson’s vantage point he knew his brother was about to do something crazy and decided not to interrupt. Instead he put his attention on taking out the remaining henchmen when something caught his eye. A few stray shooters were near the back of the SUV’s peeling off lettering that read ‘SWAT’. Just as soon as this happened local news crews were arriving on the scene accompanied by a news helicopter.
What the hell? How did they get here that fast? Jackson hated asking himself questions he didn’t have the answers to. He took aim through the high powered lens of the AS50 and began to scan the area. The rifle was hooked in to an onboard computer and ran a program of Jackson’s own design. One component of the program was a pair of specially designed contact lenses which served as the interface for the targeting program. The user need only to look at an object, be it a vehicle or a person or weapon, and then blink for about a second. This would cause the Heads up Display (HUD) to appear. The HUD projects information in directly in front of the user in virtual space, as if the words were hanging in front of them about two feet away in the air. Selecting a target was as simple as looking at it then, using retinal scanning technology, along with infra red lighting to measure distance, one could effectively point at the target with their finger and ‘paint’ them friendly or unfriendly. In a tight situation, a person could also look at a target and navigate the system menus simply by moving their eyes and looking at the options in front of them, then blinking to confirm as if clicking a mouse. The program detected threats and tagged them, giving important info such as range, preliminary vital signs, heat signatures, and also color coordinated and separated threats and non-threats. Civilians were tagged blue while hostile threats were tagged red. An enemy firing a weapon would flash red. If the picture were clear enough the program could also tell Jackson what type of weapon an enemy was carrying and also predict that weapons current ammo status. Jackson had developed this system he called ‘Shoot 1st’ (as there was no need to ask questions later) to also work with a pair of contact lenses that his brother was wearing right now.
Kennedy had little time to think. Now with the blood mobile on his six and Denton on his eleven he decided to buy himself a little time. The remainder of the faux-SWAT team was converging on him quickly. One team member appeared directly in front of Kennedy through the dense smoke. Kennedy sprang to his feet pulling out his Glock and rushed the hired gun as if he were about to tackle him. Instinctively the mercenary tried to duck to avoid what he thought was about to be gun fire but was caught totally off guard when Kennedy somersaulted over him grabbing his left arm in mid flip hurling him almost 30 yards. Denton saw the body flying towards him but could not react in time. He was struck by the flying body and knocked off his feet. Lt. Banks watched these events from behind one of the SUV’s and tried his best not to be in awe of his enemies. In under a minute the Wrights had almost gone through their entire unit. Banks could see the news crews setting up shop and figured he and his men still had the upper hand.
With Denton out of the way for now, Kennedy made his way for the bloodmobile. Kiera was holding on to Mr. Dawkins tighter than ever now. She had peeked out from the door a moment ago to see a figure perform some peculiar gymnastics then hurl a body out of her sight. Oh god, he’s coming this way! She thought as the man ran towards her location.
“Ms. Vidal, come with me please,” Kennedy reached his hand into the doorway. “Jay, I’ve got eyes on the prize I just need you to watch over me.”
“No problem but we have to move fast. There are news crews out here and I’m picking up police chatter, they will be here in two minutes. Get her and bring your ass on bro.”
Kiera didn’t like this situation one bit. How did he know my name? Is all this for me? Who the heck are these people? “Mr. Dawkins is hurt and everyone else in here is dead, get him out first.” She demanded. Kiera took a look inside to see Alvin, his face still showed a smile.
“I’m not the police Ms. Vidal and I don’t have time to save your friend. Please trust me on this okay? Those men are not who they appear to be.” His words weren’t convincing enough for her. She grabbed the rifle from earlier and aimed it at Kennedy. Her hands shook profusely.
“If you’re not the police then who are you?” Kennedy put his hands in the air and tried not to make any sudden moves. Though she didn’t look like she wanted to kill him, he wasn’t sure if there were any rounds left in the rifle and didn’t want to take that chance.
“I will explain all of that but right now you need to come with me.” She looked him deep into his eyes. Why are they so familiar? Her mind raced and as it did so, police began to arrive on the scene.
“Kennedy! Get her and let’s go man!” Jackson shouted into the earpiece.
“Make a hole Jay, we still got a few guys breathing and I…” Just then, bullet holes appeared to the left of Kennedy before he could finish his sentence. In a single motion he grabbed Kiera’s weapon and slid his finger over hers and onto the trigger. Using his instincts over his brothers advanced contacts; he fired a short burst of rounds where he felt the threat was coming from. “Please Ms. Vidal we really don’t have time for this!”
“I’m not leaving my friends!”
This is some bullshit… Were the only words that came to Kennedy’s mind. He took a look at Mr. Dawkins and assessed that he had to be at least two hundred and fifty pounds. “Fine, you see that black Magnum over there?” she shook her head after following Kennedy’s finger pointing. “Haul ass to that car now.” With a slight grunt Kennedy slung Mr. Dawkins over his shoulders and began to sprint to his brother’s location.
“Ken, if you gotta knock that bitch out and drag her here then do it. There is way too much press and way too much heat on the way. By my calculations we are not going to make it out of here. Drop that fat bastard and get going now!”
“Shut-up Jay, I’m bringing him. Keep the cops busy and don’t shoot any of them!”
Great. Next he’ll want me to river dance for these bastards. Jackson made his way to the back of the car and pulled out some more ammunition for his grenade launcher. He would have to use non-lethal force for the police that were now arriving on the scene but still wanted things to go bang.
After a few moments Denton had regained himself and was now more pissed off than ever. He radioed in for the second phase of the plan to the remaining men. The media was right on-time of course, and the police were just now setting up a perimeter. He signaled for them to move on the bank and avoid the Wrights at all cost. Fuck a fair fight…he thought as the police helicopters and news choppers began to loom above them.
Running with a two hundred and something pound man across his shoulders wasn’t something Kennedy was used to doing. Jackson was a good hundred yards away and Kiera’s timid behavior still had her near the bloodmobile door.
“Ms. Vidal c’mon, we’ve got to get you out of here!” Kennedy waved as he sprinted to the custom Magnum. Jackson had since loaded his grenade launcher and fired a series of sting grenades at the cops now on the scene. This distracted them from his brother and Kiera for a moment allowing them a few more seconds to get to him. Once that was done, Jackson reached back into the Magnum and retrieved a custom AR-15 which also fed into his Shoot 1st program. “Ken you got some guys behind you man, I got no shot from here. “Drop that fat dude and let’s move! The cops are starting to shoot back!”
Kennedy wouldn’t hear any of it. He turned to see how far back Kiera was and just as he did he heard a series of gunfire erupt from all around him. Kennedy let his reflexes take total control over his actions and fired two shots from his Glock without so much as looking. Kiera let out a scream.
“ALEX!” Everything went silent for her. Kennedy was almost to the car when he realized that the man he was carrying was dead. “I’m not going anywhere with you! POLICE HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!” Kiera ran back into the bloodmobile as Kennedy slowly placed Mr. Dawkins on the ground.
“Damn it!” I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. Kennedy rolled his fingers over Mr. Dawkins eyes closing them shut.
“Jesus Christ Ken, she’s getting away and we don’t have time to grab her let’s go!” Jackson snapped. Kiera ran to the nearest police officer she could find and began to babble her story. Kennedy and Jackson sped off and thanks to a few anti pursuit devices of Jackson’s creation, were able to flee relatively undetected.
Denton ordered his men to search the bloodmobile. Banks returned with a vial that simple read: VIDAL, K.
All of this was now worth it.
