Speedwalk

I step out of my apartment, moving at a speedwalk. I try to hurry while locking the door behind me and in doing so fumble with the keys, costing me more time than I'd like. I know my commute like the back of my hand. I know at the rate I'm going, I'll be about one minute late to work. I also know if I drive like a crazy person, I can shorten my commute by about three minutes.

I've got to try.

It's not that I think anything bad will happen if I walk in a minute late, but I've already been late once this week and I know if it happens again everyone will look at me weird. I reach my car, ignite the engine, and take off.

___________________________________________

I step into the museum. A beeping sounds from an alarm panel near the door, and I turn to punch in a code I got. It works, thankfully, and the alarm system goes out. Now to get that tablet.

It's a small town museum, the kind that's run by a county park district. Too small for more security than the alarm panel. How exactly did a place like this end up with the tablet? I don't know. Do I recommend stealing local attractions from small town museums? No way. But this is a special case. You don't want to see what happens if the other guys get their hands on this thing. All I need to do is get the tablet before they do.

___________________________________________

I stare at the screen, waiting for the script to finish loading. Being a hacker is so not as cool in real life as it is in the movies. Mostly it involves sending a lot of bogus phishing emails and hoping somebody falls for one. If you're lucky enough to have someone fall for one, then hopefully you get access to enough information to do something with it, such as writing a script to open a few doors. And maybe you do have to copy and paste some of that script from a forum you found in a search result, so what? As long as it gets those scary mobsters into the place, it's not like they'll shoot you in the face over it.

The script finishes.

>>> NameError

Misspelled one freakin' word. And right when I least want them to, my comms crackle to life.

“Hey, how're those doors comin'?”

“Uh, just gotta, you know, rewrite a few things real quick.”

“Well don't take too long about it, ya hear?”

“I hear.”

___________________________________________

When I hear the doors shut behind me, I know I'm in way over my head. I don't have much experience in the field, but I've got just enough to know I ain’t got enough for this. How did I end up in the killer's layer all by myself? No backup. No comms. And he knows I'm here. With my pistol in my right hand, my flashlight in my left, and one hand bracing the other, I whirl for the doors, expecting to see him there. I don't. But those doors didn't just shut themselves.

He's in here somewhere. It's dark, but I've got to keep my eyes open. The floorboards creak like hell every time I take a step, but I've got to keep listening. I've got to keep moving, but I freeze.

When I hear a gun cock behind me, I know there's six feet of dirt over my head.

___________________________________________

Something hits me in the head, and I'm falling off the wall. I land hard on my back, and for a while I can't breathe. Somehow, breath comes back to me. Somehow, I'm alive and whole. I sit up. The sounds of battle are still coming down from the ramparts.

Before me, I see the Lamassu, the winged lion with the head of a man, standing guard over Babylon. It takes me a moment to realize the Lamassu is set in gilded steel upon the great gate of the city. The gate still holds. Babylon stands. Good. I grope on the ground around me, not sure what I'm searching for until my hand closes around the shaft of a spear. My spear. I set the spear's butt into the gleaming marble roadway and pull myself to my feet. I stand. Babylon stands. All is well. I bend down to pick up my buckler and re-fasten it to my arm. The last of the fog fades from my mind and I see a man standing at the gate. A priest of Marduk. He's half turned around, staring at me with wide eyes. Perhaps he was surprised to see a man falling from the wall.

His hand is on the gate's lever.

“Sir?” I ask, “What are you doing?”

The man grimaces, squeezes his eyes shut, and yanks the lever down. There is a sound as of great weights shifting within the wall, then a sound like a winch being turned. The great gate of Babylon slowly begins to grind open. The Lamassu is split at the waist.

I feel a fire in the back of my head, an impact in my arms, and the man's face is inches from mine. He is impaled on my spear. I want to weep.

“Why?” I ask.

He doesn't answer. I fling him from my spear.

The gates are open wide enough now for Persians to begin slipping in.

“To arms!” I bellow, “The Persians are in the city, Babylon to arms!”

I don't know if anyone heard me. I don't know if there's anyone around. I fling myself upon the Persians.

The Persians are armed lightly as if to fight on horseback against barbarians in the steppe. Their spears are flimsy, their armor is cloth, their shields are wicker. Their weapons and bodies shatter against the gleaming bronze of my armor and my spear. They did not come well prepared to fight Babylonian soldiers. Despite that, they are many. Several manage to skirt around me and into the city. I think I hear more sounds of battle behind me. I think my spear brothers are coming to help.

“Babylon stands!” I roar, sounding in my own ears like the Bull of Heaven.

“Babylon stands!” I hear several cries from behind me.

I'm too close to the gate, and the Persians are too many. The enemy comes on like a wave and bears me under. Thousands of feet grind me into the road. I struggle to stand.

I must stand. Babylon must stand.

___________________________________________

It's dark under the water. Dark and cold. I'm close enough to the surface that the storm and its wind-blown waves still give me a sense of being tugged this way and that. In the total darkness of the sea at night, the only sign I'm still sinking is the waves above feeling weaker and weaker with each moment. The deeper I go, the more peaceful the water gets.

I need to breathe. There might be some planks from the ship still afloat on the surface. If I can just grab one and hold on til morning, maybe this will all be okay. I swim up.

Something tightens around my ankle.

A rope?

I've been a sailor all my life, and this isn't my first time being close to drowning. I feel like I should be panicking. Usually, there's a pain in my chest that makes me panic til I claw my way to the surface. I don't feel that pain. I can't panic. All I feel is cold.

I reach down to my ankle. My fingers bump against something, but I can't feel its texture. It's got the right shape to be a rope. I try to grasp it, but can't. My hand won't close around it.

I don't care.

It's too cold to care.

___________________________________________

I pull into work. Grimacing, I check the clock on the dashboard. Two minutes late.

“Shoot.”

I step out of my car, moving at a speedwalk.

Whatever. It's not that important.