Authors: Priscilla Poole Rainwater
Now in a full-blown panic, her eyes opened wide as she looked at the open doorway in desperation, wondering where Zeke was, and if he had been thwarted somehow.
“What is this?” Brett murmured as he leaned back and saw her watching the open doorway with wide eyes. “Well well, so you HAVE been a naughty girl! You brought company along, didn't you?” he whispered in a voice so low only she could hear.
Nodding her head frantically, she only managed to gasp, “No, I..”
Releasing her blouse, he clamped a hand over her mouth, then grabbed a roll of gray duct-tape from his jacket pocket with his free hand, bit one corner of the roll to break the strip loose, then taped her mouth shut.
Rising to his feet, he did the same to Granger, then slipped out of the room quickly and quietly.
Closing her eyes and resigning herself to their fate, she sobbed yet again.
********************************
Hearing the sound of slow, cautious footsteps, Cassandra opened her eyes and felt her heart begin beating faster as both relief and hope surged within her. It was Zeke, who was backing into the room and training his leveled 9mm at the open doorway. Approaching her chair quickly, he leaned over, and with one hand removed the tape from her mouth as quickly and gently as he could, never taking his eyes off the open doorway. “I didn't know what room he had taken you to, sorry it took so long to find you. Are you hurt? Where is he?” he whispered as she gasped for breath.
“I don't know, he left a few minutes ago. He knows you're here, Zeke, we have to hurry!” she whispered frantically.
“Ok.” he hissed, “Let's get you out of these cuffs.” Placing the handgun down on the floor within easy reach, he pulled a small leather pouch from his jacket pocket and selected a tiny metal instrument that resembled a toothpick, then got down on his knees and concentrated on picking the locks on the handcuffs.
“ZEKE, LOOK OUT!” she screamed as she saw Brett suddenly appear in the doorway, brandishing what looked like a 38. caliber revolver.
Dropping the tool he had been working with, Zeke sprang into action. Lunging for his weapon, he grabbed it, leaped to his feet, then took aim with lightning-fast speed, but it wasn't quite fast enough to beat the weapon that had already been trained on him.
Screaming at the top of her lungs at the sound of a gunshot, Cassandra watched in helpless horror as Zeke grunted once, staggered backwards, then dropped his weapon as he crashed to the floor.
On his back, he clutched weakly at a quickly spreading bloodstain in his abdominal area.
“Zeke Zeke Zeke, I don't remember sending you an invitation.” Brett said with a puzzled expression on his face. Stepping inside the room, he walked to where the fallen man lay and nudged him in the ribs with the toe of one shoe. “And I never had you pegged as the party-crashing type. So what gives, why are you here?”
“Fu....fuck you.” he gasped, then spit at him.
“WRONG ANSWER, Captain America! You came to save the Lady Fair, didn't you? As if I couldn't figure that much out already. Just tell me, why?”
“I'll see you in hell. You and that sick, twisted bitch you call your cousin.” he grunted, then
tried to sit upright.
Kicking the fallen man's weapon out of reach, Brett cocked the hammer back on his revolver and pointed it at his head.
“Brett, stop, please STOP.” Cassandra cried.
“You just had to try to be a hero, didn't you, for whatever reason. What, did the little whore here give you a little Bit-O-Honey, Zeke old chap? Was that it? Tell me, how was it? No, never mind, don't answer that, I want it to be a surprise. You see, I'm going to sample a whoooooole lotta' that here shortly.”
“Let...them go. Take me instead.” he gasped, glaring defiantly straight into the barrel of the revolver.
Enraged that he wasn't getting the fearful reaction he wanted, Brett struck him on the side of the head with the gun, knocking him back to the floor.
“They're innocent, let's keep this between me and you.” he croaked.
“Awwwww, now isn't that sweet! Sorry, but no can do. Like you said....see you in hell. Hasta la Vista, Baby.” Leaning down, he pressed the barrel of the weapon to Zeke's forehead, then smiled as he began squeezing the trigger.
“Hasta la Vista Baby? Jesus, wasn't that expression done to death by the time 1985 rolled around?” a low, smooth, female voice mocked, then chuckled mirthlessly.
“What the fuck?” Brett yelped, whirling around and leveling his gun at the doorway, but much like Zeke's attempt to defend himself moments earlier, it was too little, too late.
A shot rang out, and Cassandra screamed again as she saw blood splatter from Brett's left kneecap.
Screaming like a woman being flayed alive, Brett dropped his weapon and grabbed his knee, then crumpled to the floor, still screaming and writhing in agony.
Now in mild shock, Cassandra looked on in both hope and horror as a tall African American woman stepped into the room. The woman was clad in tight fitting black leather pants, black leather vest and boots, and the way she moved reminded Cassandra of a deadly black panther stalking
its
prey.
Strolling casually to where Brett lay, she delivered a swift, vicious kick to his gut that knocked the breath out of him, silencing him. Placing her own 9mm in the side holster around her trim waist, she reached down and picked the fallen man's weapon up and put it in her pocket. Shrugging a small backpack from her shoulders, she squatted down next to him. Opening the bag, she removed a set of handcuffs, then rolled him over on his stomach
and cuffed both his hands behind him.
“Who..who are you?” he wheezed, beginning to get his breath back.
“For such a smart man, you sure are slow to figure things out. I mean, I DID just shoot you, didn't I? I'm the person who's going to kill you.” the stranger mocked, then flipped him onto his back.
“Please!” he blubbered, “Help me, my knee, OH GOD it hurts!”
“Oh, and why should I do that? You never showed any mercy to your victims, did you? And Jesus you reek! I see you've never been properly house-trained.” she replied as she looked at the spreading wet stain in his groin area with disgust.
“PLEASE!” he begged
Ignoring him, the woman grabbed her backpack and stood, delivered another kick to his gut, then approached Zeke and knelt down beside him. Grabbing what looked like a military first-aid field kit from the backpack, she opened it, then unbuttoned his shirt gingerly and examined the wound. “What's your name?” she asked in a pleasant voice as her fingers gently probed the wound.
“Zeke.” he gasped, then winced in agony as he felt her fingers probing a little deeper.
“Zeke. I always have liked that name. Zeke, I want you to do something for me, alright?”
“What?” he gasped.
“I want you to
lie
perfectly still, just for a moment, Ok?”
“OK.” he croaked, then did as she asked.
Taking a tiny mag-light from a vest pocket, she clicked it on and looked him over carefully, from head to toe. “Zeke, I think you're going to be alright. It's a nasty wound, but I don't think the bullet struck any vital internal organs. You look like a very strong, healthy man, I think you'll make it. I'm going to give you something for the pain in just a second, alright?” Taking a compress from the bag, she placed it over the wound. “Hold that down firm, but not too hard, I'm going to give you that pain medicine now.”
“Thanks.” he whispered, then closed his eyes as she removed a syringe of morphine from the pack and injected him with it.
“You just sit tight, you hear? Help will be on the way as soon as I finish looking at these other two.” she said, then patted him on the shoulder gently.
Grabbing the first aid-kit again, she rose to her feet and approached the hospital bed, where
she examined Granger's broken arm in silence.
“His name is Granger.” Cassandra addressed the stranger in a trembling voice.
“I know who he is dear, and I know who you are too.” the woman said quietly as she pulled another syringe of morphine from the kit and injected him with it.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Turning to look at her, the woman was silent for a moment, then replied, “You don't want to know, you really don't. But I met your friend
Cynne
' in Mexico, and I have one hell of a case of jet lag, trying to get here in time to help you. Doctor Parker will pay extra for that, too.
There are
very few things I hate more than having to take a military flight with a bunch of clueless, fat ass Generals. I loathe having to listen to their tired rhetoric, and their plans to make the free world a better place. The truth is, they're the worst kind of oppressors themselves. Oh well, what can you do?”
“But..” Cassandra stammered as the woman walked behind her chair.
“Hush now.” the woman said as she took a small set of master keys from her pants pocket.
A moment later, and Cassandra felt the blessed relief of her hands being freed. Leaping to her feet, she ran to where her husband lay in a morphine induced haze, and embraced him as best she could under the circumstances. “Oh Granger.” she sobbed, then turned to see the woman approach Brett once again.
“Who are you, WHAT DO YOU WANT?” he screamed, then began blubbering in hopeless pain and abject terror.
“You just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?” the stranger asked.
“What are you TALKING ABOUT?” he wailed.
“I'm talking about the mess you made, Brett, calling down unwanted attention to certain very powerful people in Washington, the people who were financing that little brainwashing mind-control project you and the others were working on.”
“WHAT?” he sobbed.
“When Doctor Garrison went missing, we covered it up as best we could, and it was successful, at least for
a while
. You see, you were never a master criminal, or even a particularly clever killer, we covered up all the shit you were doing, up to this point. Three years later, Mrs. Mortensen regains her memory, and suddenly the local police, the State Police, a private investigator, and at least one FBI Agent that we know of all started digging around. And that digging has uncovered information that is very embarrassing to some very powerful people. Information about a very unethical experiment that could
potentially create a public backlash greater than anything since Watergate. Information about a LOT of unsolved murders. So you see, the moment Mrs. Mortensen regained her memory, you became a liability, and not an asset. And now I have to clean up this fucking mess, and I hate cleaning up other people's messes. The only good thing coming out of this, besides me eventually killing you, of course, was that while I was in Mexico checking on Doctor Santos and his wife, I got to kill me a human trafficker who was selling very young girls to brothels.”
“WHO ARE YOU?” he screamed again.
“I've already told you that, I'm the person who's going to kill you. I was ordered to make everyone here disappear, but I've always had a problem with authority, so they live, but you don't.” she replied with a smile that sent shivers down his spine in spite of the incredible pain he was feeling. “And believe me when I tell you that in the days to come...that's right, I said DAYS....you'll suffer a fate a thousand times worse than your victims.”
Turning to face Cassandra, she studied her in silence for a moment, then spoke. “Sit tight, I'll phone for help once I get the good doctor outside and into the trunk of my car. Like I told this shit bucket a minute ago...” she said, then kicked Brett again, hard, ” I was sent to kill all of you, so I suggest you tell the authorities I was never here. When Doctor Parker shot Zeke, Zeke returned fire and wounded him, then Doctor Parker ran away. Tell them the drugs and bandages on Zeke were already here, in an old supply cabinet or something. I've never killed an innocent, and I don't intend to start now.”
“Uhhh, what about Martina, his cousin? She's still out there. She tried to kill me too.” Cassandra asked as she licked her lips nervously.
The stranger gave her an apologetic shrug of her shoulders. “Wish I could help sweetie, but that's domestic, and I don't do that kind of clean up. I'm sure the fine men and women in blue will find her and take care of her for you.”
Turning to face Brett, the stranger smiled viciously. “Well, Dr. Frankenstein, you ready for the adventure of a lifetime?” she laughed. Saying that, she reached down an
d grabbed the collar of his shirt
with one hand and began dragging him from the room as easily as if he was a small child.
“Oh God oh God oh God HELP ME! Cassandra, HELLLLP!!! Cassandra heard Brett scream as he was dragged from the room and out of sight. Closing her eyes wearily, she thought she didn't have any tears left to spare, but found out she was wrong. Touching Granger's face, she whispered, “It's over, he
can’t
hurt us anymore. Time for us to go home and start over.”
***************************
Dark clouds hovered over the grounds of Windgate Hospital as a steady sprinkle of rain, mixed with occasional rumbles of thunder, set a grim and bleak stage for the events
unfolding. Overhead, a local news helicopter took aerial footage while over thirty law enforcement officials worked the scene, doing their best to understand the true scope of horrors Brett Parker had perpetrated.
Nora Timms, a young, attractive, tall brunette who was a news reporter for one of the local television stations, stood in the worn, pothole-filled parking lot, microphone in hand, excited that she had beat the competition to the scene, thanks to an inside tipster she had in the local police department. She didn't have to be a seasoned veteran to realize this story had the potential of going national, and if she was really lucky, perhaps it would be picked up by international news agencies as well. It was her first, and best, shot thus far at making it into the big leagues, and she considered her offer of an intimate night with the officer who had tipped her off a small price to pay for such a huge scoop. Brett Parker, it seemed, would be her springboard to the majors.