Coming For You

On Day 1, it was a usual night in the suburbs. Mrs. Lomen's dog barked, and the teenage neighbor was up late playing loud rock music. Through it all, I was surprised that I could hear the sound of a car roll up the street. It parked near my driveway, the engine ceased, and the headlights prompted me to look out the window to see what was going on. The driver was male, and he was trying to retrieve something out of the backseat where four other passengers sat. Unexpectedly, I felt his head shift toward the bedroom window, so I ducked down to avoid his gaze. When I thought the moment was right, I rose to the window sill and found that the men had disappeared. I had no clue where the men went, but I knew something wasn't right, and later, I found out that I was correct. My front door caved in, and I realized that a burglary was underway. Just when I finished barricading the door, the men came upstairs and began to spray gunfire. Unable to think or comprehend, I threw myself out the window on top of the black pavement. Breathlessly with an intent to move, I stumbled until I saw that the men broke into my bedroom and were about to shoot down at me. I quickened my pace and evaded the bullets until I met with Deputy Doug, the neighborhood policeman. 

“What is going on,” exclaimed Deputy Doug.  

“I've been a victim in an armed burglary!” I turned, gripping my side, like an athlete. “There are four of them!”

Deputy Doug grabbed his walkie, "Stay here in the bushes, Im calling for backup."

I crept into the bush while the officer ran down the street to assess the situation.

Day two was devastating at best. I was at the police station when Deputy Doug informed me that the suspects fled the scene. He also told me that during their investigation, they found a lot of rummaging in my office. The perps stole photos, keys, books, and, most importantly, my Scouts documentation. That documentation contained all of my credentials and location information when I was a spy for the lookouts. It became clear that the burglars knew me and were coming to seek revenge for my intrusion in the past. After an hour in the deputy's office, we began talking about protection placement in a safe house up north. The house was tucked away on a grassy plain and had high-grade security details. A thick black wall wrapped the property, followed by a steal gate that allowed auto entry. Security cameras were placed in the ground, trees, rocks, and around the house. Even one false step would trigger the alarm and send you an electric shock. Sixteen burly security accompanied me at all times, even when I first laid my head to sleep in the bedroom suite by sundown.

On day three, I woke up around 8:00 in the morning to eat breakfast. The chef had made pancakes and omelets along with a fruit platter. The bodyguards surrounded me as I sat at the table before the bay window to view the luminous surroundings. I saw a deer, a fox, and a bear who hunted the spring for fish. He kept bobbing but could never get his mouth on one to chow. His attempts drew me in repeatedly until one of the guards told me I had a call.

"Hello," I answered.

"Good Morning," It's deputy Doug.

He continued, "I have some bad news."

"Okay, tell me what it is," I muttered.

"According to our data," he paused. "We have discovered that there has been a leak in your location." 

I immediately stood up from the table and began to yell out, asking how this could have happened. Doug told me that the men hacked the safe house database and found my location. I needed to leave immediately, or I would be in harm's way.

Day four consisted of endless paranoia. I kept thinking that at any moment, I could be shot by a sniper from the woods or blown up by a rocket. The security team told me that I would be okay if Id just relax and enjoy the smooth ride back to the police station to reevaluate. Once we arrived, I felt a sense of insecurity at the sound of a beeping noise. It increased each second and resulted in an explosion right on the roadway. The SUV whipped backward all the way until it stopped near the post office. 

"Were under fire, we're under fire," a guard called from his walkie.

Smoke flared the area along with a vivid fireball of madness. The SUV engine was down to its last spark before it blew me through a window onto the crumpled pavement. I believed that my life was at its end until I saw a bunch of figures gather to help me up to a durable car that sped near the sidewalk. 

"Get him in, get him in," a voice bellowed.

I felt the cushion underneath me as its stitching scratched my bare bottom. Whoever's car and who I was with, I was unaware.

On day five, around 9 in the morning, I woke up to a cluster of chatter and keyboard typing. As soon as I saw the blue wall and an engraved police symbol, it became apparent that I was at a secure police facility. I gestured from my chair to peer down the hall to see that an investigation was underway. The police and security were studying the explosive car incident and compiling street surveillance to identify the perpetrators. As I listened more, one of them revealed that Dane Wilson had involvement in my hurried escape from the safe house and knew which street I would take. His team planted bombs there and detonated them when we reached. I wasn't surprised as he was known for being conniving and strategic. He relentlessly strategized for the enemy spy league and tried to take down friendly spy operations from the start. He was undoubtedly making a comeback, but I didn't know why?  

Day six consisted of being suited with armor and questioned. The police told me that the armor was what all protectees had to wear. It was a big bulletproof get up that had room for two sizeable guns. One of them was a firearm and the other an eliminator with fifty thousand bullets in its magazine. I had to remain at the police facility while the authorities gathered more information about Dane and his hideout. I was questioned by a policeman about my past spy work against Dane.

The policemen began, "We have received consent from your spy league to tell us about your work."

"Yes, and I assume you would like to know about my work against Dane?"

"Exactly so," the policemen agreed.

I began, "I've encountered Dane many times and he always had something in store for his opponents. He set up boobie traps, concocted gases, used spy gadgets, and constructed disguises."

The policeman took note of all I stated and reported it through a walkie talkie.

The policeman asked, "Can you give me a list of his hideouts?"

"When I left the spy league, he lived and operated in Shadysons, but he probably doesn't now.

"Okay, good stuff, the policeman remarked. "We'll be back with you with information on the search." 

Day seven was disappointing as the police did not find Dane. They searched Shadysons and various other places, but each location was empty. The fact that Dane was on the move and could strike at any moment was my biggest fear. For the day, I was moved into another secure room. The room I was in before needed cleaning. This new room was larger and had a surveillance monitor system on the wall. I saw a group of policemen talking outside, an ongoing conference in the meeting room, and the helipad. I was immediately thrown off the footage as the ceiling began to shake. A slight conversation ensued, presumably from the police, who I believed were preparing the helicopter. As time went on, steel fell from the ceiling, revealing a giant hole. Three men descended down three brown ropes that touched the floor. Bursts of smoke followed, obstructing my vision when I heard a voice.

"We got a break-in," a policeman yelled.

It was within a second when a wire sprung down and sucked me through the exposed ceiling. The men situated themselves to shove me in the police helipad, just before they took off into the sky. From below, the police made access to the scene gripping their guns to lock a shot on Dane. As every shot hit the helipad, Dane jerked and jerked until the shooting stopped.  

By day eight, night and rain had fallen and made the circumstance even worse. The helicopter remained in motion but dropped unstable under the constant heavy rain pour. Out of the window, a cluster of flying police helicopters left the area, killing all of my hope for rescue. Eventually, we reached a cloudy spot, where a slight noise broke out in the cockpit. One of the men presented a cloth of noxious liquid and folded it twice. I immediately began to think about my passing and how my family would come to terms with it. What would they do? Would I be found? Would there be a long-lasting search? I had no clue.  

On day nine, I woke up to a dim room that only had a chair in the center. To my left, a weeping man and woman huddled whom I recognized as Kent and Mariage Spadeson. They were fond partners of mine back in my spy days. It was visible that they had been in the room without food or drink for days when I saw Kent lick the sweat from his dirty arm.  

"Is someone with us, is someone with us?" his wife slurred.

I freed myself from the rope and crouched to the both of them to announce my presence.

I waved, "It's me, Brent Carrington, your spy partner from long ago."

The lady began to fight at me aggressively in an attempt to hurt me. She took a kick and a swing until her husband calmed her down.

"It's Brice Carrington, our former spy partner from long ago," he ensured.

The lady cried in apology, "Im sorry, Im quite delirious right now."

We talked for about 5 minutes. In just that short amount of time, I found out that we experienced the same circumstance. Outside of the room, I heard a group of men talking about who would come in the room, so I ran back to the rope to resume my previous position. Dane came in with a dish of rice and chicken and forced Mariage and Kent to eat first. Upon her first bite, Mariage instantly threw up when she noticed dung. Kent became enraged and focused on Dane.

 "Fuck you!" he called out. 

I gestured for Kent to stop, but he continued to curse. Eventually, Dane had enough and slapped him before returning back to his seat. A moment of silence ensued before Dane revealed his intent.

 "It won't be long before my thugs execute my plan." 

"What plan and why?" I exclaimed.

He stood up, embracing his voice, "My plan is to kill you all for drowning my brother in that flood twenty years ago," he turned his head to me, "Especially you Brent!"

The rest of that night into the next day, we waited till the Thugs arrived.

On Day ten, our actions would ultimately decide the outcome. A luminous ray of sunlight peered through a small crack in the room. The door burst open, and the Thugs had arrived and were instructed to increase the room temperature. The hotter it got, the more unstable we became, causing us to dose in and out of consciousness. Dane raised from the chair and walked to a lone water faucet by the door. He turned the knob with a squeak and broke it with a hammer. As the water gushed over the sides, it heightened up the wall. Dane caught one last look at the room and bolted the door to prevent us from leaving. As the final lock clicked, I ran to free Kent and Mariage before they swallowed too much water. I then took a piece of the rope and began to force it up the spout, even though the water kept flowing out. Kent stood lifelessly, analyzing the water-filled room for a way out. 

"Ova there, ova there!" Kent breathlessly exclaimed.

I turned to look and found that there was an imperfection in the wall. I clenched my fist, raised it to the wall, and bashed through to the other side. The more and more the wall caved, the sunlight entered and revealed a wooded area. I placed Kent and his wife before me and took the last position to ensure that no one was behind us. We met a busy roadway where a bunch of missing posters hung. I ripped one loose and ran up to a passing police car. The officer inside took one look at the picture and let us in the back of the squad car.

"Im going to get you all to safety," he promised.

I felt the shake of Mariage as she kept looking through the back window and moving back and forth in fear. I couldn't understand why until a car bashed into the back of us. 

She yelled, "It's Dane, he found us!"

The policeman kicked it up to about 100 MPH until we reached the police station. Dozens of armed officers ran out to support him and began to shoot at Dane's vehicle. One stray shot rang out and hit the gas tank, ending the reign once and for all.