“No,” Carmen said. “We have to think of the little girl. We cannot put her in danger.”
Dewey’s head fell. Resignedly, he stood. “If you change your mind—”
“We won’t,” Frederica said.
“If I make it, I’ll go to the police. I’ll get you help,” Dewey said as he slipped out the door.
As he left, Carmen lifted a hand as if she were going to speak. But she let him go.
Dewey headed back down the hallway, staying low as he hustled past the windows. He wondered if the guard was still slumped on the ground. As he made it to the door, he tried pushing in again. No use. He risked a glance over the windowsill—no movement. Then turned to the door, mustered all his strength and courage, and kicked at the spot just beside the bolt lock. The pain in his ankle made him yelp and he fell to the floor. The door hadn’t budged.
He looked up at the door as if it was some frustrating creature he couldn’t tame. Racking his brain, he had to find another way. “Think,” he grumbled. “Think like a cocky-ass jerk. Where would you hide a key?” Dewey thought about the few times he’d seen ABCs. This was a biggish building. It probably required many different keys. Same for the warehouse and SUVs. But he’d never seen a keychain hanging from ABCs’ belt or any bulges in his pockets. Not that he looked for that sort of thing on another man, but so many keys would be...”
A revelation startled him from his thoughts and Dewey looked up at the door again. He stood gingerly and tried some weight on his foot. It felt okay. The shock had worn off, and whatever adrenaline his thin frame could produce was helping. He reached a skinny arm up and smoothed his fingers over the top of the door trim, searching the small ledge. At first, nothing but dust, then two keys on one ring fell on his forehead and clinked to the ground.
Elated, he wanted to run back down the hall and show the women what he’d found but got startled by more gunshots similar to the one he’d heard earlier. A larger gun. The cracks spaced evenly apart as if someone had to cock and reload each shot. A long-range rifle that could likely be used to take down anyone trying to run away. Realizing the women were right not to try and escape, he started to fumble with the keys when he heard the sound of an oncoming truck. Headlights filled the darkness behind the compound and suddenly illuminated the inside of the main room as an SUV swung around and stopped. Dewey froze in fear as the doors opened. Two shadowy figures emerged from each side of the vehicle.
Dewey returned his frantic attention to the keys. Fumbling with the lock, he was jolted again by the sluggish hammering of an AK47 coming in from the back of the building, shattering windows. He risked another look to see the two men begin to make their way through the newly created openings. The headlights behind them casting ominous shadows in the main room. The first key hadn’t worked. Dewey cursed and switched keys and pushed the second key into the lock and turned it. His shoulders fell as he let out a sigh of relief and pushed his weight into the door. Unlike the others, it slid open smoothly and Dewey had to set a foot out in front of him to catch himself. Then, suddenly, the room filled with light. Dewey looked up at the bright light in horror—a motion sensor fixture had illuminated the room and the opening of the door. Dewey’s head snapped around so he could see the back of the building. He leaned back slightly from the opening to see one of the figures had turned his attention to him. The silhouette was unmistakable. ABCs had seen him.
Then, out of nowhere, gunfire erupted from the opening of the courtyard. The silhouette paused and pulled an arm up to shield himself from the shattering glass and then disappeared from view, back into the shadows. Pure survival instinct took over. Dewey pulled the keys from the lock, lunged into the room, turned, and pushed the door closed behind him. Resting against the door for a moment, his head slumped. Breathing ragged. He gathered himself and turned around in the well-lit room to see a large wooden double door. A hatch that led down into the ground. It was locked with a hasp and padlock. Dewey looked down at the keys in his hand, silently praying for the first time in his life that the other key fit the lock. As he bent to try the key, the light went out and Dewey yelped in fear as he was plunged into darkness.
𓂓
Just moments before, when the approaching SUV had crested a small hill, putting it in plain sight, Michael aimed the Remington and opened fire. His skill with moving targets lacking, he had failed to make a deadly shot as they careened around the back of the building. Rather than pursue, Michael had retreated back to the safety of the outer wall and motioned for Jackie and Clay to huddle.
“They are heading to the back of the building. Not sure how many. Two, maybe more.” A soft glow from the headlights showed through the opening, confirming Michael’s statement. Jackie and Clay turned to take note, then refocused on Michael, who had paused to weigh their options. He didn’t have long to contemplate before a brief burst of automatic gunfire erupted from the back of the building. Even though they were behind the wall and out of view, they all crouched lower.
Michael snapped back into action. “Clay, both Jackie and I can shoot from one side of the opening since I’m taller. I need you to make it to the other side of the opening. You can do that?”
Clay nodded.
“Jackie, let’s take a look around the corner through the gap, then lay down some cover fire for Clay.”
Jackie gave a quick nod, then turned to make her way to the corner. She leaned low into the wall and slowly moved the muzzle of her AR15 around the edge, continuing with her head to gain a one-eyed view of the courtyard. Michael leaned his Remington on the wall, lifted his AR15, and did the same standing above her. They both saw shadows moving in front of headlight beams broken up by dusty motes and window frames.
“Go!” Michael said in hushed urgency. Then he and Jackie opened fire.
Glass shattered as the weapons broke the silence of the lonely, darkened hills. Clay made a low and hasty sprint to the other side of the gap. He crouched and scanned the landscape behind them. He spotted movement out in the open a few yards away. His vision settled on the body of one of the burnt guards lifting an arm. Clay saw the glint of a handgun and lifted his weapon, firing at the movement. Dirt flew up beside the guard. Clay adjusted his aim and squeezed the trigger again, this time, striking the fallen guard. His arm fell, motionless once more. Clay crab-walked out to make sure he was done and saw lifeless eyes staring into some unknown distance.
He turned to see Jackie and Michael had retreated back around the corner. They stared at him, expressionless looks on both their faces, then nodded, appearing to understand. Clay had just made his first kill.
𓂓
The Alphabet King slipped on broken glass scattered across the floor as he tried to retreat under fire. Bullets struck the wall to the side of the kitchen where an electric panel was located. Sparks flew at him from the panel as he stumbled backwards. He fell back through the broken window as he scrambled outside, then he crawled on hands and knees, moving himself behind the back wall of the kitchen for cover. The guard made his way back to the SUV. ABCs saw him take cover behind the open door and reach in to grab an extra magazine for his AK. ABCs figured that would be enough for cover fire while he performed his ritual.
ABCs darted over to the open passenger door. “Make sure they don’t get through the gap,” he barked. “I only need a minute.”
The guard nodded, a grave look on his face. He removed his sunglasses and tossed them on the seat. Then he stepped from behind the door and moved toward the opposite wall, sending a spray of bullets out into the courtyard to cover his progress, which had the added benefit of shattering more glass, improving his view. He noticed the injured guard in a motionless heap along the wall in the courtyard to his right and wondered how the man had gotten out there.
At the same time, ABCs grabbed another AK47 from the backseat and the glass jar from the cup holder in the console then clambered back behind the kitchen wall. Sparks shot out from the electric panel again as he closed the gap. ABCs leaned the weapon on the wall and carefully set the jar in the dirt. A noticeable calm settled over him as he prepared for the ritual his Shaman had described to him. He took a meditative position on his knees, then pulled the talismans and a small fire starter stick from his pocket. He mounded the sandy dirt a little to support the starter stick so it wouldn’t flame out and then lit the ends. Next, he reached for the jar and placed it just behind the building flame. On each side, he laid out the two small talismans his Shaman had recommended, completing his improvised altar.
The Alphabet King closed his eyes and drew in his breath, repeating the breathing ritual he’d performed earlier. The flame from the small log had begun to build. This time, he called up a different mantra. His voice rose as he repeated it. Louder. More insistent. He raised his arms toward the night sky as he shouted out the final repetition. His body stiffened as energy swirled around him. A red mist materialized from all sides. The mist rushed in, forming an eerily lit miniature dust devil as it took him. Glints of red popped in the swirling air around him as the mist became more focused and condensed, similar to an ice skater’s spin becoming more intense as the arms are drawn inward. Within moments, the swirling mist had condensed and risen up between his arms with the base seeming to rotate on his upturned forehead, at the point where his third eye would reside. Suddenly, he jerked up inhumanly off his knees, supported only by the toes of his prostrate feet in some sick deformed ballet stance. The Alphabet King shook violently while the swirling mist descended into his forehead as if someone had unclogged the drain of some filthy sink. After a short pause, he collapsed back to his knees, arms at his sides.
The guard looked at ABCs’ motionless form before sending more cover spray into the courtyard. He scanned the area with the rifle, looking down the iron sights of his weapon. But he was distracted when he noticed a red glow growing around the back of the building where ABCs had been kneeling. The guard looked over to see him rising effortlessly from his kneeling position as if pulled up by a set of strings wielded by a master puppeteer.
Red slits glowed along his still-shut eyes as The Alphabet King rose. He tilted his head back as newfound power surged through him. A deep baritone laugh erupted from his throat as he opened his eyes, sending narrow columns of intense red light up to the sky. He leveled his head as the light settled back into his eyes, which took on the form of burning embers set cruelly into his skull. The Alphabet King looked down at his hands in amazement, then into the building, and then looked around the landscape as if seeing it for the first time. His gaze settled on the guard, who stood frozen, holding his rifle. The monstrous evolution of Armando Beltrain Cardentias reached down for his AK47, then motioned for the guard to move into the building. Without fear, they stepped through the shattered windows, the red glow from his eyes casting a sinister light before them.
𓂓
Unfazed by the notion of taking a life, Clay moved back to the wall. They had a job to do. It was me or him, he allowed himself to reflect only briefly. Suddenly, automatic weapon fire erupted from inside the courtyard. The sound of glass shattering and falling to the ground pierced the night air. They remained behind the cover of the wall as the first volley ended. Then, before they could work back into position, more gunfire erupted from inside, this time, less glass falling and more bullets hitting the block walls running parallel in the opening. Dust from the block floated from the gap, mixing with the acrid smokey air around them.
Another pause, then another round of fire from a lone AK47. Michael could recognize the slower firing repetition anywhere. He shook his head. What is going on? As soon as the last round ended, he motioned Jackie around to his back, pointed his weapon down, and slowly moved his head to peer from the corner of the opening. He knew the AK wasn’t a terribly accurate weapon, more for creating chaos with a generous spray of bullets. No gunfire came his way. He noticed the other SUV on the right of the courtyard. He leaned a little bit further out and saw what looked like a soft red glow on the left. He became transfixed as the glow brightened. He heard inaudible shouting, which sounded as if it reached a crescendo before ending. Then the red glow flickered out. He pulled his head back and looked over to Clay, who stared back at him. Michael shrugged then gave Clay the signal to look into the courtyard.
Clay moved his head out around the corner just as slowly as Michael had. At first, he didn’t see much because of the broken-up glow of the headlights, until a flash came from the left side, sending beams of red light up to the sky. They all heard the monstrously deep laugh echo through the hills. Clay fell back behind the wall and motioned for them to look up. Jackie and Michael looked up into the night sky but didn’t see anything, only a red line of light spilling over the edge of the roof above them before it disappeared. Jackie looked over at Clay, mouthing, “What the fuck?” She shook her head in disbelief.
Silence once again. The inaction tore at Michael. We have to move. Now. He peeked back around the wall to see shadows moving again in front of the headlights. This time, he could make out two distinct red points of light at head height, which seemed to move along with one of the forms. He wondered what that could be as he leaned back and picked the Remington up. He had a few more rounds left. The night scope would give him an advantage.
Remembering he had chambered a round, he swung the barrel around the corner and took aim at the dark figure moving on the right. Michael squeezed the trigger and felt a small jolt of satisfaction as he heard the muffled grunt of the guard, and then saw him fall out of sight of the scope. Gunfire erupted in response as he crouched back behind the corner. He leaned the Remington back against the wall, knowing it was impractical for what came next.
He pulled the stun grenade from his pocket and showed it to Clay. Then pulled the pin, stepped out, and lobbed it into the courtyard. The sudden explosion lit up the courtyard, sending dirt and debris in all directions, several cheap metal trash cans loudly tumbled over, spilling their contents on the ground. Michael raised his AR15 and stepped out from behind the wall into the gap. Clay did the same just a beat behind him. Jackie followed. As before, Michael walked toward the middle and opened fire in the direction to his left where he’d seen the other figure and the red points of light. Clay opened fire as well, shooting into the darkness on the right. Jackie stayed left and opened fire to that side. Random reports from the AR15s marked their progress.
Michael made it through the gap first. Stepping fully into the courtyard, he continued randomly firing his AR until the mag was empty. Jackie and Clay had moved up to the inner corners of the gap and continued firing as well. As soon as Michael had reloaded and cocked his weapon, a series of three gunshots rang out from his left. Jackie stumbled back from the corner. Falling backward, she saw Michael collapse. Clay swung his weapon around to see a figure crouched on the opposite wall and opened fire, only getting two shots off. His magazine had run out. Unsure if he’d hit the dark figure, he fell back into the gap out of sight. He reloaded his weapon and looked over to Jackie. She stood and did the same. They’d had enough ammo for one extra mag each. Jackie looked up, then made her way back to the corner. Clay slid himself along the wall, both ready to open fire on the dark figure on their left. Jackie made the corner first and swung herself out in a low stance and fired at the barely discernible guard. As she squeezed the trigger a second time, the sagging gunman got off another shot, which struck her in the outside of her left leg, sending her to the ground with a sharp scream.
Seeing the source of the shot, Clay stood and fired several times as he walked toward the gunman. Not sensing any movement, he stopped and knelt beside Jackie. “I’m okay,” she said. “Go check on Michael.” But before he could, gunfire erupted once again from inside the building. Seeing bursts of dust kick up in line and heading toward him from the left, he ran diagonally forward to his right, shooting into the gunfire. He heard an unfamiliar metallic clang as the gunfire from inside suddenly stopped, followed by an unrecognizable curse.
Clay stopped and knelt in the center of the basketball court, scanning around through the site of his weapon looking for movement. He rested his aim on a red glow coming from inside the building. The resolution sharpened in the dark as The Alphabet King raised his head and stood holding a bloodied right arm. Clay had struck his trigger hand. The figure dodged to the right, inhumanly fast, as Clay stood and opened fire again. After only a few shots, his weapon ran out of ammo. Clay dropped the gun and reached for the revolver in his back pocket. But before he could bring it around and take aim, the dark figure appeared suddenly before him, red eyes glowing like embers in the night. The blow came from nowhere. A viscously strong uppercut that caught Clay under his already hurting chin. Clay fell backwards to the ground, his legs folding in an ugly angle beneath his limp body.
The Alphabet King turned his gaze on Michael’s fallen form, which had begun to stir. With his good hand, he reached down and took Clay’s .38, then walked over to Michael, stopping to point the gun at his head. He glanced at Michael’s AR15 lying on the ground beside him. Knowing he couldn’t use it with one hand, he disregarded it. Jackie had gotten herself turned around and leaned up against the wall, holding her blood-soaked leg with one hand, the other behind her back, reaching for her Sig.
