Last Light Falling (42 page)

“Have the other guard go check the status,” says Iakov.

I load another arrow, then creep up closer to the entrance, avoiding the four cameras on the front walls. I hear heavy footsteps coming around the corner, and I don’t hesitate to jump out and fire into the guard’s chest about twenty yards away. Not my best shot, but damaging nevertheless. He staggers back and hangs onto the front gate bars. I sling another arrow into him, this time to the heart.

The guard’s body leans against the gate just below the cameras, exposing his limp body to whoever is watching.

“Jesus Christ!” the operator yells out.

“Lieutenant, since when do squirrels carry bow and arrows?” Iakov asks angrily.

“Sir, I had no idea …” says the lieutenant.

“You rarely do, but I know this squirrel, and she’s not getting away today.”

“Call the exercise off now!” the lieutenant shouts.

“Hold that order, Corporal. Let’s just see how finely tuned your men are, Lieutenant. Commence with the exercise,” Iakov says.

Well, they know I’m here now. I guess I didn’t come in here alone for nothing.

I pick up the guard’s gun and aim for the front cameras, taking out each one and hoping Finnegan and the others won’t be exposed when they come to get me.

“Sir, we have lost all visual on the front entrance,” a voice says.

I search around the guards’ post to see if there is anything useful I might need. The gate booth is pristine and in order, but there’s nothing I see that can be of help. I hear static on the radio, so I switch the channels on the receiver until I pick up a clear signal. I turn around and notice a computer screen light up when I back up into it. Nothing of interest catches my eye except the instant messaging chat log at the bottom of the screen. I scroll up to see nothing but a mindless log chat between the guard and the tower operator when suddenly I hear a voice over one of the channels giving orders:

“Sergeant, we are in position ready to proceed. Private, flank your men to the west barracks two-by-two and wait for my signal, it’s going to be dark in here.”

With the training exercise started, I’m anxious to get the hell out of here, but this may just be my ticket inside the complex. Before I leave the post, I type in a message in the chat log:
your guards took an early retirement.
That should rustle some feathers.

To the east side of the compound are brick walls about ten feet high staggered throughout a large open area. To the west of me is a large group of clay and brick buildings clustered together like small bungalows in a village. Some are uncovered, exposed to the hot sun, while most have roofs.

I look up and around for any cameras before I go running toward the west side of the compound. I suddenly see a shadow appear behind the far side of the cluster of bungalows, so I quickly hide in one of the small covered buildings. The floors are made of compact desert sand, and the walls are almost thin enough to punch my fist through.

There’s an exposed corner of the shack that has been damaged, revealing wire mesh and cheap plaster. I’m guessing they were trying to reconstruct a small village resembling that in some Middle Eastern country. Glass jars and rags are spread out on a table near one of the walls, and straw baskets with stickers that say “Made in China” decorate the corners of the room. Yeah, I feel just like I’m in an Iraqi village.

I hear a boot grazing against the sand just behind the open door, but there is nowhere to hide and I’m completely uncovered in the open room. I haven’t time to think because I was so engaged in the stupid décor of the room and left myself exposed. I tense up as I see the barrel
of a gun protruding from the side of the entry ready to strike me down. I can shoot through the wall, killing the soldier, but I don’t know how many more are around the corner waiting to run in and gash me. For once, I feel vulnerable.

I aimlessly look around for a way out of this situation, but I can’t think straight, so I just draw my guns and try to shoot anything that moves in front of the doorway. Before I pull the triggers, I glance down at the table and it suddenly comes to me as I withdraw my guns. I quickly grab one of the rags on the table and sit down on a worn wooden chair near the middle of the room. I tie the rag around my head, sticking the rag in my mouth, and place my hands behind the chair just as two men come in the room, pointing their guns at me.

“What is this?” one of the soldiers asks.

“S1 to squad leader, we have a civilian in custody,” the lead soldier says as he radios back.

“Is this part of the exercise?” another soldier asks.

“Bring the survivor back to base,” orders a voice on the radio.

The two men withdraw their guns, hang them on their shoulders, and give me a limited but otherwise manageable option. The leader closes in on me, and I quietly grab my dagger behind my back. The darkness of the room is the only thing saving me from the men noticing my weapons.

“Hey, wait! She’s armed,” the man says. I jump up from the chair with full force and thrust my dagger into the soldier’s neck. He falls to the ground while the other soldier pulls his rifle toward me. His gun immediately locks up, giving me a brief, but timely moment to draw my gun and shoot. He falls dead, but not before the bolt catch unjams and fires off a couple of rounds.

I hear a few more soldiers racing down the left passage in response to the gunfire. Just as the soldiers rush in through the entrance, I turn the injured man around, grabbing his arm, and pulling his finger back that is still firmly attached to the trigger on his gun. Round after round, I empty the clip as six men drop dead in front of me, not expecting to have live fire return on them.

I stand there feeling a little more confident now, knowing that these men are not expecting a live enemy in this makeshift maze of tunnels. Static on the radio is buzzing again, so I quickly change the channel until I
get another signal. I can just barely make out the general’s voice in the background.

I pick up one of the soldier’s guns and proceed out the door, but as I look over the entryway, I notice a very small camera staring right at me. I realize I’m now at a disadvantage, that there are probably hundreds of cameras positioned in hidden areas throughout this battlefield.

“Is this what you had in mind?” I say to the camera before I destroy it. I’m sure to get the general’s attention now.

I move down to one of the left tunnels as fast as I can to the outer part on the far west side before any more soldiers show up. I come up to a small opening where light is visible from the outside. I slowly approach the end of the passage when I recognize another shadow on the wall parallel to the window outside.

I crouch down underneath the window and pull my dagger close to my side. As the soldier peers through the window, I quickly jab the dagger in the side of his jaw and pull him inside, throwing him to the floor. Right then, two more soldiers slowly round the corner. I pull my guns and swiftly shoot both at the same time in the head. I can hear voices bickering back and forth on the static radio signal. I carefully move down the hall and the signal becomes clearer every step.

“Now at what point do your men take out the enemy?” Iakov says.

“Sir, I assure you, this is the most highly trained military group we have put together. They are trained to do one thing and one thing only—kill,” the lieutenant says.

“Yes, well Lieutenant, your highly trained men appear to be distracted by a fifteen-year-old girl killing them,” says the irate general.

I move against the wall where the sunlight isn’t shining through and try to hide in the shadow. I find a dark corner that’s hidden in obscurity next to an open window that leads into another room. I stay buried in the shadow for a while, leaving myself an option to bolt into the other room if I’m forced to.

I can see a lone soldier deep down the south corridor slowly moving from side to side, shifting his head back and forth, anticipating an attack. I’m hidden enough in this dark space that I can’t be seen, so I quietly retract my bow and carefully rest an arrow against it. As I draw back the strings, the tip of the arrow just sticks out far enough into a small beam of light shining through the cracks of the roof, but the soldier is too far away to notice. I release the arrow, and it sails deep into his chest, piercing his heart. He falls dead to the ground.

I decide to hold my position a little longer and rest another arrow on the shelf of the bow. I keenly wait in anticipation for another soldier, who passes by and spots the dead man.

After shooting him in the chest, which is much lower than I would normally prefer, I should have a better idea of the arrow’s trajectory next time. I pull back, anxiously waiting for the next victim to expose themselves, when suddenly a voice muttering on another radio comes from the right of me. I slowly withdraw the strings and rethink my position, but another soldier down the long corridor has already spotted the arrow sticking out from the man’s chest.

I now have two men to think about—one in my sight ready to kill with the bow, and one to my right who is too close for comfort.

Without any hesitation, I aim for the soldier who is kneeling by the dead man and release the arrow directly into his skull. I drop my bow, draw my guns, and pop off two rounds into the soldier to my right. Just then, two more soldiers at the end of the long passage spot me out in the open light and begin to shoot. I pick up my bow and lunge through the opening in the next room while gunshots fly past me, grazing the upper part of my jacket. The gunfire is too heavy for me to fire back through the window without getting hit, so I scramble around, looking for a way out of this room.

I suddenly feel a tingle in my arm. I look over and see a bloodstain growing wide. I guess the shock of being hit has worn off, because I begin to feel the throbbing discomfort now. I hold my arm up, resting it against my side as I grimace in pain.

I quickly look around and notice this room has a window but strangely, no door. I race around, desperately trying to kick in the walls, hoping to find a weak spot in the hardened clay, but I’m trapped. I search anxiously around the room when I suddenly spot another camera protruding out from one of the corners.

The wires are exposed, hanging down and through the top of the wall where it meets the ceiling. I see a small bead of light where the wires have been installed, and a small ledge along the wall where the roof isn’t attached. I step back a few paces and rush forward, jumping onto the ledge. I pull myself up and kick open the partial straw roof by the camera wires, then roll over to the other side of the adjoined room.

The rooms are really beginning to look the same, except this room has two entries: one leading to another long corridor, and the other that leads into a hall with a window accessing the outside of this tunnel of hell. I make a mental note of this room and the outside window before
I head down the long corridor that leads to the north, closer to the main complex.

About halfway down the passage, I find a large crack in the wall. I lean against the side of the wall to catch my breath as I hear footsteps approaching in the distance in front of me and behind me.

The only spot left to hide is to my left in a small, dark crevice where the wall is split into an area large enough for me to squeeze my body through. I quickly conceal myself in the shaded corner, crouching down where the sun can’t shine on me.

I impatiently wait for the men to pass, and the sound of their boots pressing against the hardened sand floor begins to diminish. Another group of soldiers is coming. I draw my guns, preparing to fire in both directions when the soldiers pass by. I try to calm myself to keep my breathing from being audible as the men get uncomfortably closer. Suddenly, the soldiers to my right stop in their tracks, and my heart races. My fingers firmly grip the triggers.

“Sir, should I call in reinforcements from zone three?” a voice on the radio asks.

“No, let them be. This is what we trained them for,” says the lieutenant.

“Yes, and I train my dog not to shit on the carpet, but I don’t see the need to have it repeated if I do nothing to correct him,” Iakov so eloquently says.

“She’s just a girl, sir. I’m sure my men can handle this one,” says the lieutenant.

“Are you familiar with
The Mourning Bride
by William Congreve?” the general asks.

“No, sir,” answers the lieutenant.

“Too bad, or you would have known that Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

Beads of sweat crawl down the sides of my temples as I brace myself for an all-out attack. A sudden burst of adrenaline surges through my veins. I cling to the darkness as long as I can, hoping I go unnoticed. I close my strained eyes tight and pray to my Father for protection before I’m forced to sacrifice my position and storm the hall with guns a-blazing.

As the soldiers creep closer, the tension increases in my muscles. It’s not until I look down at the side of my pant leg that I notice a bulge protruding in the shape of a cylinder. I had completely forgotten about the thermal viewers Gabe gave me for my birthday back at the inn.