Page 82 of Ravaged By the Dark (The Righteous 2)
Arek leaned against the wall and listened to the yelling and gunfire. His eyes closed as the stench of death filled him and transported him to another time.
The sound of the helicopter flew overhead.
“We’re almost there. Keep moving!” Trev called out as they struggled to climb the final large peak standing between them and safety.
Bullets peppered the ground around them. There was no point in looking back. He either made it or got shot—they’d long ago used the last of their ammunition.
“Move!” Arek yelled and pushed on the back of the civilian man he was protecting.
“ I can’t.”
Arek gripped the man’s arm in his hand and began dragging him behind himself as he pushed for the final obstacle. All his training kicking in, he could see the light at the end of the tunnel.
“Pain was only in the mind. The body could take more than what your brain would allow. Push soldier, don’t you dare slow down,” the voice of his training officer was loud in his ears.
Rock and dirt rose in the air and rained down on them as the bullets made contact. “We’re almost there!” He called over his shoulder as they began to crest the top. Suddenly, he was jerked off his feet backward and crashed to the ground, rolling partially down the steep slope.
Arek shook his head and looked for his civilian. The man lay where he’d been running a moment ago. Blood ran down the side of his face, his eyes staring at nothing.
“Fuck! Fuck you, you mother fuckers!” Arek screamed.
“Let’s go!” Trev yelled from the top, his belly flat against the top of the peak, his hand outstretched. Arek scrambled to his feet and ran for his brother’s hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said to the man as he ran past and sprinted the final few feet to safety.
Arek took a deep breath, blinking away the sting of tears that threatened to roll down his cheeks just as the office door slammed open. Tyson ran in and was followed by two of his gang. Arek couldn’t have staged this any better.
“Grab the girl,” Tyson yelled, not bothering to look around the room as he approached his desk.
Like a panther, Arek moved with speed and deadly accuracy, thrusting the SOG knife through the spine of the first asshole. The strike was accurate, seizing him in place. He dropped to the floor, dead before he could take another breath. The second one spun around, and he brought the blade back to slit open his throat. The guy grabbed at this throat, eyes wide as his mouth gaped. He threw the blade as Tyson turned to face him, and the sharp, deadly instrument slid home in his shoulder. Tyson dropped the gun he was holding, the bullet harmlessly hitting the filing cabinet in the corner.
“What the fuck,” Tyson yelled and grabbed the knife handle, but Arek was already on the move and landed a hard right to Tyson’s jaw, his ass rolling comically over his metal desk. Arek stalked his prey around the desk, each boot landing heavily, letting his opponent know he was coming. Tyson pulled the blade out, blood running down his hand and shoulder.
“It’s you. Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m the Sandman.” Arek knelt, and Tyson tried to scoot backward, his eyes wide as the name sunk in. He’d made sure that the name was synonymous s with assassinations—everyone assumed he was an assassin for hire. And he was fine letting people believe it because whatever made people like Tyson shit the bed at night was fine with him. Arek pulled two knives from the sheaths on his chest, each one finding a new home in the tops of Tyson’s feet.
Tyson screamed and swiped at him with his blade. Arek stood and wandered casually around the other side of the desk, out of reach from Tyson’s waving arm.
“Get the fuck away from me, man! You don’t exist.”
“My blades would say otherwise.” Arek gave the guy a cocky grin.
“Who hired you?
Arek shrugged. “No one hired me.”
“Then why me? Why do you care about me?”
“I don’t care about you, but you hurt someone I care about.” Arek moved back as Tyson tried to lunge for his face with the SOG. “You see, Renee… she’s mine, and you hurt what’s mine.” He sighed and stood. He’d let Tyson wear himself out while he got set up. Arek wandered over to the corner and removed the binding that had strapped Cody to the wall.
“What are you doing,” Tyson asked.
Arek slowly walked back over to the center of the office and watched as Tyson pathetically dragged himself across the floor toward the door.
Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.
Arek smirked at his own inner joke, he wasn’t sure if that was what Edgar Allen Poe had in mind when he wrote that poem, but he thought it was fitting.
