The Ethical Side

A Story by Denali Wolfe

The Ethical Side

By Denali Wolfe

Introductorily Note

To those who read this book and say to themselves about one of the characters, “Hey, that sounds like me,” or “...like (someone you know),” I feel like I must inform you that this is a novel. A work of fiction. Meaning that (for the most part) the events, settings, and characters of this book do not exist. Therefore, “any form of relations to any persons living or dead, is completely coincidental.”

Prolog

“A double wedding?” the interviewer wondered. “That sounds a little hectic. Wouldn’t you say?”

“Well, yes,” the woman answered. “Given the circumstances, I still think it was necessary.”

“But, I think we’re all want to know something,” the interviewer continued. “Why?”

“It was my parent’s idea,” she confessed. “They thought that I would burn in hell for eternity if I got married in my husband’s church instead of theirs. So, we made a compromise.”

“And what was that exactly?” the interviewer pressed, slightly sliding to the edge of his cushioned seat.

“That we would be married in both churches,” she answered plainly. “My parent’s church first, of course.” She then let out a small chuckle with the interviewer letting a smile come to her face. She knew she was faking. It felt abnormal smiling, since she had not smiled in close to three years.

“Yes, I think we would all agree that that was a good compromise,” the interviewer turned to face the camera. “For those who are now joining us, this is Susanne Williams, author of one of the most recent New York Times Bestselling novels, When You’re Alone, has just told us a little about her marriage to her deceased husband, Captain Micah James Bray, may he rest is peace, and the opener to her novel. It is 7:00 here with the sun setting over the grand city of New York, and we will continue the interview of Susanne next week, Saturday, June 22, here at the Coin 7 Studio. I am John Briges, and have a good night.”

Chapter 1

“I’m telling you, honey,” came the nasally voice that showed signs of living in New York and smoking for most of her life. “You gotta’ start goin’ out again! It’s bad luck!”

“I’m sorry, Gladidus,” the other voice confessed. “I’m just not ready to ‘go out’ yet.”

“But it’s been like twen’y years,” Gladius pleaded.

“Actually,” the voice interrupted. “It’s been five years, three months, and twelve days.”

“Ya see?” Gladius exclaimed. “You’ve even been countin’ down the days since he died! It’s a sign!”

“A sign of what?” protested the voice, growing angrier. “A sign of being attached to someone you’ll never be able to see again? I never even got a picture of his body, Gladius. We promised to die old, together. And now he’s dead! And I’ve got to live with the guilt of that!”

Gladius was stunned. “But, it wasn’t your fault that his convoy was bombed.”

“No,” sobbed the voice. “But I was the one who convince him to go to the war. That if he didn’t go now and get a less intense position, then he would be drafted to the front lines. It’s my fault he’s dead!”

Gladius, trying to find a way to change the subject, thought of an idea. “Why don’t ya’ come down for dinner. Jared wants to personally congratulate ya for your success with your book interview last Saturday. We’re having chicken.” The intercom was silent. “Makayla?”

“Sorry, Gladius,” Makayla confessed. “I need to get ready for Susanne’s interview tomorrow. Got to get prepped to answer that stupid list of questions they sent me. I’m so glad that I used a penn name on my book. Besides, I’m not in a chicken mood.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Gladius. “I’m so sorry! I forgot that Chicken was James’ favorite!”

“That’s alright,” Makayla sighed. “I’m just gunna order some take-out and go to bed early.”

“Yeah,” Gladius sighed. “Good luck tomorrow with your interview.”

“Thanks,” yawned Makayla. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” Gladius whispered as she switched off her end of the intercom.

Makayla sighed as she walked like a ghost across the floor of the living room of her apartment, taking the pin out of her hair, letting her hair bun unravel and fall down her back. Although she had been living in this apartment for close to two years by herself, there were still unopened boxes sitting on the floor next to the couch. All the necessities were setup. Basic kitchen utensils such as bowls, plates, cups, silverware, pots, and pans.

There were three other rooms available for setting up and transforming into livable space, but they were just being used for extra storage. There was only one other room that was setup. The master bedroom was designed to hold one large King-sized bed, two chairs, two nightstands, two dressers, and a television set with extra room to spare.

However, there was only a simple dresser was unpacked, a medium Queen bed in the corner, and an analog alarm clock on a mini fridge stood next to a lamp. The dark tan walls were bare with the previous owner’s nails that Makayla left in to hold future pictures that were not yet hung. Makayla slowly stepped into the room and flicked the lamp on.

She softly let herself down onto the edge of the bed, letting her shoulders relax. Makayla reached out her hand and opened the fridge door and picked up a small bottle of water that was drunk down to the half mark. She then picked up a small medication container that had a sticky note attached to the lid. “Take 2 before sleep, and 1 after waking up,” said the reminder.

“James,” Makayla sighed as she opened the medication. She tipped the container and tapped it with her index finger until two little red pills fell into her other hand. Tossing back her head and throwing the pills into her mouth, Makayla let the bottle of water pour down her throat, easing the pills down with it.

Makayla swallowed the mouthful of water and medication in one swift gulp. She stood up and walked into the bathroom, stopping in front of the mirror. Her brown hair had been brushed earlier that morning, but had gotten tangled later on. To herself, Makayla seemed more depressed than ever. Her eyes looked dead; lost all hope of life. Overall, her face was lost. Her tall figure had seemed to have shrunk in her mind. Sighing, Makayla walked back into the bedroom and sat down on the bed.

Before letting herself fall into a dreamless sleep, she picked up a packed brown box that had been open recently. On the lid, there was written in unmistakable black sharpie, “Wedding Day Stuff.”

Beginning to sob, Makayla opened the box to reveal a tattered and worn photo album with a picture of herself and her husband James outside of a beautiful white building. They were both wearing white; James in his suit, and Makayla in her dress. Snuffing her nose, and whipping away some tears, Makayla slowly opened the book.

The first thing that was displayed was a picture of a happily smiling Makayla being chased by her tall laughing blond haired husband. They were both dressed in simple clothes; T-Shirt and jeans. Makayla was wearing an old pair of hiking boots; whereas James was wearing no footwear. The grass was dried out, making the scene look like a wheat field. The rolling hills in the background were majestic. Besides the dying grasses, for plant life, there was only a mere old oak tree in the shot. It stood as a tower would in any big city; tall and seemingly unmovable.

If it did not bring back too many painful memories, Makayla would have laughed at the picture. Her hair was a tangled mess, and James looked almost like a jackal, or some other wild animal. But that was one of the things about this man that she missed, but not as much as his sensitivity and understanding personality.

“James,” Makayla almost shouted. In a final instant, almost defiantly, Makayla slammed the album closed and threw it back in the box. Kicking the old box under her bed frame and jumping between the sheets trying to go to sleep. Once again, Makayla fell asleep to the sound of her sobs and tears, and the faint beating of her broken heart.

Chapter 2

“Bringing you the information you need, when you need it most,” calls the recorded message. “This is Coin 7 News.”

“Good morning, and welcome to this special edition of Reader’s Report,” John Briges greets turning to face the camera. “We are joined today by Susanne Williams, author of When You’re Alone.” John turns to Susanne. “Good Morning.”

“Good morning,” Susanne barely fits in before John continues.

“So, Susanne,” starts John, almost slurring the words together. “How was it for you to write this?”

“For the most part,” answered Susanne. “It was relatively easy. The hardest part was digging up things I could use.” “Then deal with the pain,” thought Makayla.

“That sounds perfectly reasonable,” replied John in his usual abnormally up-beat tone. “Considering all the resources at your demand.” John turned back to the camera. “We have been receiving a few calls with requests of questions that some of our current audience wanted to ask you. So, if you don’t mind, we will now be taking some of those calls right now.”

“Wait,” Susanne interjected. “I was told that we wouldn’t be doing that today.”

John leaned toward Susanne. “Look lady,” John whispered coldly. “I don’t write the schedule, I just show up and do my job. So, make it easier for the rest of us and just go with it.” John leaned back into his, resetting his face for talking to the audience.

“Oh, that’s right,” Susanne lied. “Silly me.” Deep inside, Makayla was growing with pure rage and hatred towards this stuck up man. In the time when the camera was not rolling and the public was getting their minds brainwashed by pointless commercials, Mr. John Briges was a complete and, in plain words, total jerk. Constantly yelling at his assistants and demanding too much of the other workers to make him, “look good.”

“Anyway,” snapped John. “Let’s go to our fist caller. Hello.”

“Hello,” A deep voice greeted over a speaker. Makayla recognized something familiar about this voice. But she could not remember the last time she heard it.

“Hi,” John once greeted again. “Could you possibly tell us your name, Sir?”

“Yeah,” The voice called again. “You can call me, Denali.”

“Denali,” interjected Susann, cutting John off just to get his goat. “What do you want to ask me about my book?”

“Well, Susanne,” started Denali. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind telling me, if the name of your husband in your book, is his real name?”

“No,” answered Susanne, almost to the point of a whisper. “I used a fake name for him because I was asked not to reveal his name.” Makayla cursed herself inside for letting that slip.

“By whom, may I ask?” pressed Denali, cutting John off.

“I’m afraid,” Susanne answered. “I can’t answer that.”

“All right,” interrupted John. “If we want to have time for the rest of the interview, I’m afraid that we must move on to the next caller.”

“No wait!” interrupted Denali. “I just have one more quick question!”

The camera operator looked John in they from across the floor. The camera operator slowly shook his head. “All right,” John slowly let the words out. “Just one more.”

“Thank you, John,” sighed Denali. “Susanne?”

“Yes?” wondered Susanne.

“Why would you be asked not to reveal your husband’s name?” Denali waited patiently for her answer.

“He was a good soldier. He did a lot of things that the military and those in charge of his missions didn’t want leaked to the public,” Susanne almost sobbed. “Even I wasn’t allowed to know what he was doing other than serving his beloved country.”

“Thank you,” Denali sighed just before hanging up his phone. A little click sounded over the intercom.

“Now,” perked up John. “On to our next caller.”

Chapter 3

“Thank you,” sighed Denali slowly turning the switch on his headset to ‘off’.

“Now,” perked up John. “On to our next caller.” The laptop screen suddenly went black.

“Little punk,” whispered Denali. “Thinks the world revolves around him, doesn’t he?” Denali turned his head to look over his shoulder. A large dark figure with arms crossed over his chest and head angled so that Denali could not see his face was looming over Denali. He was wearing a black leather wide brim fedora with a matching black leather jacket and thick black camouflage pants. Denali could not see his feet nor his hands. Neither did he want too. To see what the man behind him had become always made him feel horrified. “Sorry, Wolf.”

The dark figure growled in response. “It’s all right,” Wolf moaned in his deep and powerful voice. In comparison, Wolf’s voice was more of a growl than Denali’s. However, still the same. “He’s not our target anyway.”

“I meant your,” Denali didn’t finish.

“I know,” Wolf almost sobbed. These past few days, Denali noticed how much his companion had been changing emotionally. He was always a little more depressed, or a little more edgy. With a few deep breathes, Wolf got a firmer hold of himself. “I’m gonna get the bike ready. Where did you put the toolbox?”

Turning back to face his jumbled net of cords and devices, Denali thought hard for a split second. “It’s strapped down in the back of the Beast.”

With a single push of a finger, the heavy re-enforced cargo hold door of Denali’s prized position, the Beast, slowly opened to reveal neatly stacked and organized boxes. One of witch, was a beat up metal box that had chipping blue paint and a replaced latch. Without hesitation, Wolf grabbed the worn handle and closed the door, almost slamming it.

Immediately, Wolf went over to an object covered by a large tarp. Carefully putting the toolbox down, Wolf pulled the tarp off of his motorcycle. It was a restored “Bobby,” with added cargo bags and four gun holsters. Two of which were made for shot-guns. The other two were designed for semi-automatic laser guided double-barrel handguns. The only gun, as far as his knowledge went, that has never been released to the public or even mentioned to the President’s secret service. Opening his jacket, Wolf reached inside and pulled out the hand guns and placed them in their proper slots. Reaching under the bike, Wolf also pulled out the shot-guns. To Wolf, the 19 gauge guns seamed lighter that the last time he held them.

Wolf shrugged his shoulders, remembering that the operation that he went through recently wasn’t fully healed on the inside. He was still getting stronger with the bare minimal exercise he had been doing for the past eight months.

Wolf slid everything into place that he could with his hands. Weapons first; which included guns, ammo, grenades, knives, and one his personal favorites, his collapsible titanium stath. Then he began tightening and greasing and cleaning the rest of the bike. Wolf looked after his bike, but he did not care for it as Denali did for his “upgraded” Jeep Wrangler Unlimited. A.K.A. Beast.

After double-checking that everything would fit and stay in place, Wolf took off his jacket to reveal his bare back. Wolf did not really like wearing so many clothes like he used to like most people do. But then again, Wolf was not much of a “person” anymore. Pair of loose fitting pants, hat and jacket was good enough for him.

Wolf opened the left cargo bag and reached inside. He pulled out what looked like a jumbled mess of straps and leather. Wolf slowly and carefully untangled them. When he was finished, Wolf was holding up what appeared to be shoulder holsters. Similar to what undercover police officers wore under their coats and jackets. But these were different. Instead of holding guns, they held machetes or daggers. And instead of carrying them under the arms, they were held just below the shoulder.

Wolf strapped them on almost instantly. The leather was cold at first. Wolf liked it. But they soon heated up with the excess body heat coming off him. He always felt over heated inside this confined living space. But it soon would be over.

Wolf picked up his jacket. Turning it over so that he was looking at the back, Wolf began lightly picking and some patch that you could hardly notice. When the patching was all removed, there were two holes that went down the shoulders. Smiling at his handy work, Wolf put his jacket back on. The straps were hidden by the jacket, but the holsters were at an easy reach for the blades to slide into their designed places.

After a couple of small fighting moves to cheek his maneuverability, Wolf reached under his bike and pulled out a large object wrapped in cloth. He held the object in his right hand, and grasping the loose end of the cloth with his left. Wolf jerked the cloth hard and tossed the wrapped object into the air so that it seemed to be unwrapping itself. When the cloth was fully removed, Wolf caught two long bladed machetes. The handles were both black with a silver lining. The same went for the blades. With the exception that they seemed to be more than decorations.

Breathing deeply, Wolf grasped one in each hand firmly. The silver on the blades grew dark. Then immediately lit up dark blue. Wolf could feel a strange energy slowly move through his body from his hands. His eyesight stayed the same, but the rest of his senses seamed to expand. Hearing was increased tenfold. Wolf did not even have to have his eyes open to be able to kick one of his guns out of its holster, grab it in mid air, and shoot Denali through the hold in his chair and bounce the bullet of his ribs to puncture his heart. Feeling was amplified to an unbelievable point. Wolf could literally feel the massive cargo barge push its way through the calm waters of the Atlantic Ocean. He could feel the crew moving around the ship. He could feel the muffled nuclear engine pumping as if his hand was on it. With the machetes in his hands, it was as if Wolf had become part of everything around him.

“Hey, Wolf,” Denali called over his shoulder. Wolf snapped back to reality, but the feeling had not left him.

“Yeah?” Wolf called back.

“If you’re done with the toolbox,” Denali asked standing up from his foldable desk. “Could I use it for a little bit? I need to do some cleaning in my laptops.” Wolf put the machetes in their holsters. The blades going back to black and silver. The energy slowly leaving him and his scenes going back to their normal state. If you could call it normal.

“I don’t see why you need to ask me,” Wolf commented as he picked up the toolbox and walked over to Denali. “When just about everything in here belongs to you.”

“I don’t see why you care so much about it,” Denali answered, opening the box, searching for the right tool he needed.

“I’m just practicing,” Wolf sighed.

“For what?” wondered Denali, suddenly remembering the plan. “We shouldn’t be doing this you know.”

“What? Helping a woman who’s been lied to for over five years?” Wolf demanded. Almost shouting.

“She doesn’t need to know that her husband is really alive,” Denali almost shouted back, carefully putting the tool back in its place and slamming the lid shut. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“No,” agreed Wolf. “But what she thinks she knows is destroying her! You have been keeping tabs on her. You’ve said so yourself that she’s currently taking medications for depression and thoughts of committing suicide!” Denali’s blonde hair looked as if it were beginning to stand up. As his arm muscles grew more tense with furry, Denali’s T-shirt sleeve was raised as to show part of what seemed to be an incomplete copy of a military tattoo.

“But a shock like this would kill her!” Denali was about to let all his anger out. He did not think that the plan would work. It would require the utmost delicacy and caution. Once they make their next move when they dock in New York, Roe would know. It was difficult enough trying to throw Roe off their tall in Canada. But in a crowded city like New York, they would be spotted easily. “Not to mention all the attention we’ll be getting from everyone!”

“We just have to move quickly and quietly,” Wolf whispered. “Ease her into it. Like we agreed.”

“And what about when Roe catches up with us?” Denali whispered back, crossing his arms. “What do we do when he finds us?”

“If, he finds us,” Wolf said correctingly. “Then I’ll do what I swore I would do.”

“You’d better,” snapped Denali, pointing his finger at Wolf. “Cause if he kills you, I’ll be next, and then he’ll kill Makayla. Don’t forget; he’s you.”

“He’s me without a grip on himself,” smiled Wolf. “He’ll be easy to beat. He loses control worse than you loosing at poker. Besides, he’s still more human than me. Still more predictable than me.”

Denali looked into Wolf’s eyes. The one part about him that still had a shred of human left. “The last time you two met, you barely made it out alive. Face it, you were lucky,” Denali looked scared, but strong. After all, he was James, for the most part.

“If all goes well,” Wolf whispered, putting a large furry paw of a hand on Denali’s shoulder. “We won’t need luck.”

Denali sighed. “Thanks, James.”

“You’re welcome,” Wolf replied. “But don’t call me James around Makayla. She’ll get too confused.”

“Alright,” Denali mumble again. “Are you ready?” Denali looked at James’ nightmarish figure. The surgeons did a good job at making James appear as what they thought a werewolf would look like transformed.

Smiling, James reached up and grasped one of his machetes. He held it until the color lit up. This time, the silver became a blood like crimson. The dark glow that was cast on Wolf’s face made Wolf appear as if he was prepared to slaughter anything. “Ready.”

Chapter 4

“Hey! Watch it!” shouted one of the crewmembers.

“You watch it! You’re in the way!” replied the crane operator.

A man wearing a black snowcap and matching parka came walking out of the wheelhouse carrying a clipboard in one hand and a mega phone in the other. He raised the mega phone to his mouth. “Will all of you shut up?” The crew looked up at their captain. “We were scheduled to have this cargo on the dock five hours ago! What’s wrong with you? I’ve seen rusted and broken down robots do better than this!” Deep down inside, the crew hated their captain. About half the crew wanted to throw him off the boat in the middle of a storm. However, none of them had the courage to do it. “Now get back to work!”

“Yes, sir,” mumbled the crew in incomplete unison. The crane was holding an oversized shipment container that had all its markings painted over in black.

The operator raised a radio microphone to his mouth. “Hey, captain?”

“What is it this time?” demanded a scratchy voice over the speaker.

“I’ve got a blacked-out container. And it’s huge! What do I do with it?”

“It must be the extra container that got put on our list at the last minute. It should be empty.”

“Oh it’s not empty, sir. Doll’s having a hard time holding it up!”

“For the last time, Gibbs! Stop calling that crane, Doll! Anyway, just put it down on the dock off to the side. When we’re finished, we’ll open it up and see what’s inside.”

“Yes, sir.” Gibbs switched the radio off. Gibbs slowly let the giant container down towards the paved dock. At the last second, one of the cables snapped. The container was only four feet off the ground, but it fell hard.

………………………………………………………………………………………

“What was that?” Denali whispered into the com-link ear piece, gripping the steering wheel a little harder.

“Just the crew messing around,” came Wolf’s opinion through the speaker. “Nothing to worry about. I’m sure that Beast is fine. You redesigned him to last longer than yourself.”

“Ha ha, funny joke,” mumbled Denali. “How much more time until they let us out?”

“From the sound of things going on outside,” Wolf went quiet for a minute. “About another hour or so.”

“Joy,” spat Denali to himself. “I knew I should have put the lock on the inside of this prison.”

“Wait,” interrupted Wolf. “Someone’s coming.” Denali and Wolf both held their breaths.

………………………………………………………………………………………

“What kind of an idiot are you?” shouted the captain, skipping steps getting off the boat. “You don’t hit the release until the container is touching ground!”

“I told you!” shouted Gibbs, sliding down the crane ladder. “I didn’t hit the release! The main cable snapped!”

“A likely story!” snapped the captain.

“This is going to be good,” mumbled a deck hand to one of the other crewmembers. Both let out a muffled chuckle. They were staring at the crane claw still attached to the container and the snapped cable.

The captain looked at the claw, following the auxiliary cables up to the main cable that had snapped. The expression that came over his face was confusion. But priceless to the observing crewmembers. “If the cable snapped,” mumbled the captain. “Then why didn’t the auxiliaries kick in?”

“I guess they weren’t tight enough to catch the falling container.” Answered another deck hand, glad to point out the captain’s stupidity. Everyone who used a crane knows that the auxiliary would only kick in when the cargo was falling from a greater height. Four feet is not considered “a great height.”

“Well, let’s see if the goods are damaged,” mumbled the captain, reaching for the keys to the containers.

………………………………………………………………………………………

“They’re about to open it up,” Wolf whispered into his head set from under his customized helmet. “Is the screen set up?”

“It’s been ready for days,” answered Denali. “And the hydraulic locks are ready too. All we have to do is sit still.”

The lock began to turn. It was time. Wolf revved his bike’s replaced engine. Denali had his foot on Beast’s gas pedal, ready to push it to the floor. Wolf was in front of Denali on his bike. Denali was sitting in the front seat of Beast with all their gear piled up and strapped down.

The greased doors swung open easily. Pulling the pins for Denali’s special smoke screen to be released. The hydraulics locked the doors fully open.

“What’s going on?” demanded the coughing captain.

“Finally,” mumbled Wolf. He flipped on his Brights and raced out of the container, barely missing the crew that stood in the way. Everyone who saw him race towards them jumped out of the way. Leaving a clear trail for Denali to fallow.

Wolf popped a wheelie and slammed his front tire on the gate, busting the lock and pushing the door open. Denali wasn’t far behind. Shoving creates out of the way as he went. Skidding into the rushing traffic, Wolf captured a split second mental picture of the sign that stood on the other side of the street in bold lettering. “Welcome to New York.” Wolf then looked at the police motorcyclist coming at him from his left, and two more cars coming up from behind.

“Hey, Denali,” Wolf called over his head set. “We’re gonna get some company really soon. Let’s not disappoint them, shall we?”

Denali looked in his mirrors. “I’ll take theses duds. You get those wheels.”

“See ya at the rendezvous.” And with that, Wolf’s headset made a click sound, and saw Denali drive away in his mirror, with the cars fallowing close behind.

“Let’s see what that fancy toy of yours can do,” Wolf mumbled as the officer pulled up next to him. All of a sudden, Wolf slammed on his front breaks, forcing his bike to do a flip. In mid air, Wolf tilted his weight so the bike would spin and switched off his lights. Landing in front of the police bike, facing him. Wolf flashed his Brights twice, blinding the officer.

The officer slowed down, giving Wolf a few more feet of space. Smiling at his stunt, Wolf pulled his back breaks and turned the handles, making his bike skid to go with the flow of traffic. Wolf looked into his mirror and saw the police officer put a radio mouthpiece to his mouth.

“Back up, huh?” Wolf looked ahead to see a low hanging flagpole reaching out from a building a couple of hundred feet down the crowding street. “Got’ cha.”

Chapter 5

“Come on,” Denali whispered to himself. “Just a little closer.” The Police Officer’s Dodge Charger was edging closer.

“This is the New York Police!” the officer shouted. “Pull over immediately!” Denali had his hand on a joystick that was wired to the dashboard. His thumb was hovering fractions of an inch above a small round red button. The Charger was now only a few feet away from Denali’s bumper.

“Got’ cha,” mumbled Denali as he pushed the button. All of a sudden, a small canon popped out from under the bumper. The officer tried to swerve out of the way of the weapon, but Denali had him trapped in the narrow ally. A blue light shot from the barrel and hit the Charger head on.

Lightning was buzzing around the car. All the lights on the outside exploded into sparks. The engine began to smoke. The flames were blazing from the Charger’s power brakes. The driver side door opened and the driver rolled out of the car. Still carrying close to two hundred miles per hour of momentum, the car began to spin out of control. Ramming the sides of the abandoned buildings. Eventually, it stopped with the car wedged in place and exploded like a stick of dynamite.

Denali knew that the officer would not be able to call for back up. His ion canon had never failed him in the middle of a chase.

………………………………………………………………………………………

The bikes were closing in fast. Wolf had planned for this. He sped up and cut off a semi truck, cutting across the lanes until he was on the opposite side of the road as the police bikers.

Wolf whipped out a grenade from his saddlebag and chucked it a couple hundred feet ahead of him. The grenades were a special weapon designed by Denali. Ion grenades. The cars suddenly stopped in a massive heap, leaving only one lane open on the right side of the road. Instinctively, the officers moved to right side of the road.

Wolf pulled on his breaks, and swerved around the truck. Pulling into traffic directly behind the police officers. Wolf pulled out another grenade and chucked it at the police. The bikes toppled over and clumped together just after they passed under a low hanging flagpole.

Tightening his legs, and reaching above his head with open hands, Wolf grasped the pole and hung on for dear life. Wolf flew through the air like a baseball being thrown at nearly one hundred and twenty miles per hour. Wolf landed fifty feet away from the wreckage. He clicked on his head set.

“Denali, you there?” Wolf called.

A beep came on in Wolf’s ear. “Yeah.”

“Head for the rendezvous when you can. I’m heading over there now.”

“See ya in a couple of minutes.”

………………………………………………………………………………………

Wolf was standing in a wide, dark and damp dead end ally behind an old dumpster next to his bike. The engine was still a bit warm from its last run. Wolf looked down at the silver ring on his right index finger. He rubbed his thumb over it, and a small LCD screen appeared. The digital clock read 9:47.

“He’s late,” Wolf mumbled under his breath. The screen went blank again, making the ring appear as nothing more than metal band. Wolf could hear the hum of engines from various vehicles coming and going. But none of them the one he wanted to hear. Wolf put his head set back on. “Denali, where are you?”

“Sorry Wolf,” Denali replied. “I’m stuck in traffic.”

“You’ve got’ a be kidding me,” Wolf mumbled.

“From what it looks like, a bunch of cars piled up on the left of the street, and some more police bikes crashed together on the right,” Denali continued. “I’ve got’ a say, you did a pretty messy job getting away from the cops.”

“How did you know it was me?” Wolf questioned.

“Well, from where I’m sitting, I can see that a flagpole has claw marks, and two of my grenades are empty in the middle of the road.”

“Just get your butt out of there and haul it over to the rendezvous. We need to be in hiding right now!”

“Fine, relax. I’ll be there soon.”

Denali flicked up a little lever in the middle of the steering wheel and began turning it to the right. He could feel the tires scraping against the pavement as they realigned. Denali stuck his head out of his window to look at his wheels. They were now perfectly perpendicular to the lines on the road.

Denali put the gear into reverse and slowly pushed the gas. The Beast slowly made its way into the right shoulder. He turned the wheel back to the left, flipped the lever down, and dropped the transmission into drive while he floored the accelerator.

The shoulder was clear, except for a construction project a couple of blocks down the road. A gaping hole was partially surrounded by orange traffic cones and stacked pipes. Denali tapped a glass button on the stirring wheel with his thumb. Shortly after, a holographic diagram of the Beast appeared in front of the radio. Using his right index finger, Denali pointed to the Beast’s grill and dragged his finger back, then swerved down.

“Forward vents, activated,” announced a computer like voice. Steadily, the front end of the jeep began to rise. The diagram disappeared, and a view of the road ahead took its place. Denali zoomed in on the cones and pips.

“Computer,” Denali announced in a causal voice. “Activate Nitro boosters at appropriate time to make that jump,” Denali commanded while creating a circle around the hole.” Denali could feel the Nitro rockets charging, preparing for the jump. A little screen underneath the speedometer flashed the words, “NITRO READY.”

“Boosters charged,” said the computer. “Ignition in Three, Two, One. Boosters ignited.” The Beast lurched forward and the speedometer suddenly began to climb at an alarming rate. “Warning, the tires are no longer in contact with the pavement.”

“Understood,” answered Denali with a smile.

“Jump made in Three, Two, One. Jump completed,” informed the computer after the Nitro shut off. “Forward vents disabled. All four wheels will regain surface contact.” Denali could barley feel the impact. The shock reverse springs he installed focused all the impact down to the ground, keeping the rig frame up.

Denali made the Beast swerve back into traffic, and sped down the road toward the rendezvous.

Chapter 6

“What do you mean they escaped!” shouted a man in a dark green uniform. “You have the best security in the known universe, and two specimens, who were also caged and unarmed, blew half the compound into oblivion!”

“We,” stammered a man in a slightly singed, and badly repaired, white lab coat. “We don’t know, sir.”

“Well, you’re not being paid to stand here and look like a blubbering fool, find them!” the man shouted, and then slammed his fists on the table, leaving two identical craters in the metal. “Find them!” the rest of the men in the room scattered from the room like cockroaches from light. “Find them!” he shouted again, growing even louder. He listened in silence as his voice and the pounding footsteps of those who fled the briefing room echoed through the emptying corridors.

The man let out a soft chuckle. “So, James,” he mumbled to no one in particular. “You finally did it. You outsmarted the world’s best system.” He began to pace around the iron oval table. “After all, we invented it. Or rather, you invented it.” The man walked over to a wall that was darker than the others were. It suddenly lit up white, and then faded to show the rest of the compound, some parts were still on fire after the explosion two months ago. They were high in the hidden hills. It was cold up there, but there was no snow. Out in the distance, just before the sky touched the horizon, the ocean was barely visible.

“Where are you going to go?” he whispered. “Where can you go? It is only a matter of time. No matter how far you get away, I will find you. We are more alike than you think.”

“General Roe,” came a voice. Roe turned his head to face the soldier who just ran in. “We have a surveillance video we think you should see.”

“Bring it up on screen,” ordered Roe turning back to the giant screen window. The window went blank again. A loading icon appeared with ‘0%’ over it. A single red bar came into view, then another, and another, getting closer to green as it went forward. When the icon flashed ‘100%,’ the screen went blank. As it faded into the video, the screen showed a tanker loading dock. “And what am I supposed to see, exactly, soldier?” Roe demanded.

“You’ll see,” the soldier mumbled under his breath as he lightly tapped on a hand held screen. The video on the window screen began to play.

“Keep it moving, keep it moving!” called a voice from the movie. “I want this boat loaded and launched before sun-up!” A forklift came into view carrying nothing. It stopped in front of an office, someone stepped off the cart, and then it drove on. The man was wearing a brown suit and matching hat. He seemed out of place in regards to the shipping dock. “Well, if it isn’t our lovely rich sponsor,” called the voice again. “What brings you to this moldy old dock?” wondered the voice as the owner stepped out of the office.

“Business,” his voice was so low that Roe had to concentrate hard to hear him. “I have a crate I want you to pick up at Boston.” The man handed a yellow envelope to the dock manager. The manager opened the envelope and took out two sheets of paper. “It’s a big hunk of steel, but it should be empty.”

“What do you want me to do with it once I’ve got it?” the manager kindly demanded in his usual gruff business tone.

“Drop it off at the port listed on the letter,” the man answered in the same tone. “Next time you come by the same port, take it to New York. Then you don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“Might I ask why?” the manager demanded.

“Double if you don’t,” the man replied. The manager glanced at the seconded paper.

“Deal,” the manager reached out his hand and the two men shook.

Before letting go, the man in the suit ordered, “Make sure that it doesn’t get inspected.” The screen went blank again.

“And I needed to see this, because...” questioned Roe as he slowly turned to face the soldier. The soldier hastily handed Roe a sheet of paper with a single sentence written on it.

“We received this today by an untraceable fax number,” mumbled the soldier, afraid of what his commanding officer was about to do in response.

“YOU’RE SLOWING UP A BIT, COPY CAT.” In anger, Roe ripped the page in two and crumpled them together.

“Clever, James. But not enough,” Roe mumbled. “Get me Princeton!” Roe demanded. The soldier ran out of the room. “We’ve got some hunting to do.”

Chapter 7

“It’s about time you showed up,” mumbled Wolf into his headset as Denali pulled up.

“Sorry,” Denali mumbled back in the same tone. “You know hard it is too sneak past these people after an incident like that.”

“It’s that bad?” Wolf wondered as Denali leapt out of the Beast.

“You should know,” Denali answered with a smile. “You caused it!”

“Whatever,” Wolf grumbled and turned away while waving his hand as if dismissing an unwanted odor. Denali and Wolf both gazed up at the backside of an apartment building, as if decided who would be the one to rob it. “Okay,” Wolf mumbled. “I’m going up.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Denali wondered, reaching out his hand as if to grasp the hand of a loved one about to fall off a cliff.

“I’ll be fine,” Wolf managed to spit out after a minute of silence. Wolf sounded like he usually did before barging into someone’s home to get something, but he didn’t feel like what he was about to do was right.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” Denali called as Wolf ran up to the wall of bricks and windows. A few steps before running face first into the wall, Wolf gripped the Machetes and dug the indestructible blades into the bricks and mortar.

With the metal secured in the building, Wolf pulled himself up high enough to jump to a nearby overhanging fire escape. From there, it was just a few simple jumps and maneuvers to the fourth floor.

A locked window was missing a pane of glass that had been neglected for the past few years, which made breaking in much easier than planned. Not to mention that the lock an ordinary bolt. All he had to do was lift and push with little effort.

The minute he stepped into the room, a flood of smells, feelings, and memories rushed into his mind like a dam bursting. A sun bleached field, an almost god-like girl with beautifully flowing brown hair fluttering in the wind running away from him, a white suit being shown to him from a magazine, and pumpkin seeds being roasted. It was the pumpkin that caught him off guard. They smelled of homemade gumbo and barbequed pork being smoked over a burning stove. Wolf could also taste something very familiar and almost personal, but he could not remember what it was exactly. All he knew was that the feeling came from one of the happiest moments in his life.

Wolf broke down in an instant. He fell to his hands and knees immediately and began to silently sob. He wanted to howl. Howl till the world shook from his anger and loneliness. Howl till the fiery depths of hell crumbled into oblivion. Howl such a howl that would make his enemies flee from him, and make his allies fall to their knees with the same depression that constantly hung inside his broken, and shattered heart.

About twenty minutes passed before Wolf came back to his senses. Once he recovered to some degree, Wolf stood and lurked about in the dark room. If Denali was in the room, he would be shuffling about like a blind fool. But Wolf was not Denali, entirely. Wolf had eyes that could look into a dark cave and see everything as if it were in the moon light. Not to mention his scenes were now being heightened by the mysterious weapons in his hands, which cast about an eerie blue glow that gave form to objects several inches away from them.

“Where are you?” Wolf whispered to himself. At last, he found a light switch that had no labels. Wolf flicked the switch, but no light turned on. Instead, a key hole bigger than the size of his thumb appeared in the opposite wall. Wolf lurked over to it and transferred his both of his machetes to his right hand and dragged a key from his left pocket. Wolf inserted the key, twisted a half turn to the right, and pulled out the entire mechanism. He then flipped the switch back to hide the hole in the wall.

With the lock in his hand, Wolf stalked into what he believed was the kitchen. He reached up over the refrigerator and pulled off a ventilation grate. Wolf then put one of the machetes away and stuck the other one inside the dark hole.

There, about three inches up the shaft, was a much smaller hole that diverted to the left, which appeared to have been carved out by someone other than the person who installed the vent to begin with. Smiling, Wolf took the lock in his left hand and inserted it into the small opening. Almost instantly following, an area of the counter next to the oven puffed with dust and slid out an inch.

Wolf removed the secret key from the vent and replaced the grate before walking to the counter. He curled his large fur coated fingers around the edge of the sliding secret door and pulled it out several more inches. Inside, was a neatly folded map with a grid like pattern drawn onto the map, along with blue dots scattered around, and two handguns and a set of keys.

Stuffing the map and guns into the deep pocket of his jacket, and holding the keys as if his life depended on it, Wolf quickly slid the counter piece noiselessly back into place until a soft click resounded from the wall. Wolf then back stepped through the process of getting the complex key from the wall.

“Denali,” Wolf whispered into his headset.

“Yeah?” Denali answered back.

“Catch,” Wolf quietly opened the window and let a sinister smile explode on his face.

“Catch what?” Denali wondered. Before he could react, Wolf chucked the set of keys at Denali from the window. Wolf could not see what happened, but he heard the keys bounce off of something soft before plummeting to the ground. “Ow!” Denali spat into his headset. “Thanks for the bruise!”

Wolf began his decent out of the window and down the side of the building. Just as he let go of the window sill and hopped to the fire escape, the front door to the apartment burst open. Wolf pressed his back against the wall and waited.

“You stupid door!” laughed the man inside, obviously drunk. “I told you to stay unlocked!” Wolf heard the man try and kick the door closed, but must have missed, because something fell to the floor hard. “Now you wan ‘a fight!” Grumbled the man as he got to his feet. “But I got ‘a warn ya, I know karate!” Wolf risked a look at the drunken idiot. The man proceeded to land extremely slow, weak, simple lunches into the door frame. Wolf smiled and left the man to attempt besting a door in a heated battle.

“He’s at it again,” Wolf whispered into his headset on accident.

“Who is?” wondered Denali, almost instantly concerned.

“Huh? Oh,” Wolf thought whether or not to tell the truth. “An old friend of mine. He owns the apartment where I stashed everything.”

“OK, whatever,” replied Denali. “Let’s just get out of here!” Wolf leaped off of a platform on the second floor and landed on his hands, which he use to start a roll and finished on his feet.

“Ta da!” whispered Wolf. Denali smirked as he crawled back inside Beast.

“Now what?” questioned Denali. Wolf jumped into the passenger seat of Beast. Wolf snatched the set of keys from Denali’s hand and brought up the screen.

“Scan,” ordered Wolf as he held the keys to the screen.

The computer made a few light beeping sounds as a blue light began to emanate from a small sensor bar. As the keys were being scanned, the monitor screen began to display a list of places. A majority of them highlighted in red, some in black, then in green.

“Pick a color,” Wolf joshingly asked Denali. Denali smirked back, not trying to hide his humor at the pathetic joke.

Wolf gazed at the list when the scan was complete. “Sort,” he ordered. Almost instantly, the list was rearranged by color, with green on top, followed by black, then red. “Discard,” Wolf commanded while dragging his left index finger down the list of red.

“Why are you getting rid of those?” Denali questioned, climbing into the driver’s seat to get a better look.

“The red means that that location is unable for us to use,” Wolf answered. “The black means useable for a quick stop but not a long stay. And the green is what we need.”

“Why’s that?” Denali pressed further.

“Because they’re supplied, protected, and not occupied,” Wolf answered again.

“If we can’t use the red ones,” Denali wondered. “Then why is that one still here?” Denali pointed to the red line on the bottom of the screen.

“That one,” Wolf stated. “Is being occupied by our target.”

“That’s Makayla’s apartment,” Denali whispered.

………………………………………………………………………………………

“Be very quiet,” a man called over his soldier in a hushed whisper. “The next one’s gunna’ be here soon.”

Six men were crammed into a small alley way off of a side street.

“I want the next one,” the shortest demanded.

“Shut it!” the other five ordered at once.

“We agreed that you’ll get the last one,” the strongest one said. “Not the next one.”

“So shut your mouth before I cut it off!” ordered the tallest.

“Shut it! All of you!” ordered the one closest to the street. “Here it comes!”

………………………………………………………………………………………

“Pull to the curb,” ordered one of the officers. The converted Dodge Challenger slowly stopped on the side of the road. “Stay here,” the same officer ordered as he stepped out of the car. A glint of light shown off of his NYPD badge. “I’ll check it out.”

The officer ran over towards an ally. “Good evening,” he called before a jumble of hands grabbed him and covered his mouth to keep him from screaming and pulled him further into the ally, out of sight of the other officer in the car.

………………………………………………………………………………………

“Get his stuff!” ordered the strongest boy.

“Keep him down!” complained the tallest.

“Move,” ordered the leader. He pulled out a revolver and slammed the butt of the handle down on the officer’s head, knocking him unconscious. “Check his size,” he ordered again.

“Small,” replied the strongest. “Dang it!”

“Looks like it’s mine this time!” whispered the smallest.

“Hey, Dubo,” whispered the tallest. “Shut up!”

“You shut up, Amery!” Dubo, the shortest, replied.

“Keep quiet!” ordered the leader. “There’s still one more.”

………………………………………………………………………………………

“Almost there,” whispered Denali to himself. He felt edgy while in the city. He felt as if he was stuck in the middle of a horror scene were the killer is about to jump out at you and eat your heart.

Just as Wolf turned a corner, he saw a police officer being dragged out from his car and into an ally. Wolf slammed on the brakes, forcing his bike to a calm yet sudden stop. No sound came from the braking system due to the intense care that Wolf went to too keep it ready for anything and everything.

The officer looked dead from his limp body and the blood running down the left side of his face. Wolf shut off the motor and lifted the motorcycle onto the side walk. Denali came around the corner a matter of seconds later, just as the officer was out of sight from Wolf’s view.

Denali pulled up alongside Wolf and rolled down the passenger side window. “Everything all right?” Denali asked.

Wolf quickly replied by putting a finger to his lips and mouthed the word, “quiet.” Wolf then reached up and drew both machetes, letting the blades grow a dark blue. Wolf aimed the point of his right machete at the ally and mouthed, “Ambush.”

Denali nodded his head while the window rolled up. Wolf watched as Denali reached back behind his seat and put on a dark blue jacket and a black hat with a golden star in the middle. Wolf almost laughed at Denali for actually packing the guard uniform from where they escaped. Fortunately, the disguise looked like an ordinary police uniform. Denali hit a button that Wolf couldn’t see, and red and blue LED light bulbs grew out of the roof of the Beast. A second later, the lights flared and a patrol serine sounded.

Wolf saw shadows move inside the ally as Denali slowly drove up to the dark passage and stop. Wolf silently got closer to wait for the right moment.

“Sorry to bother you this evening,” Denali stated as he walked up to the small crowd inside the ally. “But I’m looking for two other officers who went missing a few days ago.” Wolf almost believed Denali himself.

“Sorry dude,” came a stoned voice.

“Haven’t seen any officers around here,” said another voice, a little softer.

“Except for the officers that came by in this car, right?” Denali pressed.

“Those guys don’t count,” came the stoned voice again. “One’s my dad, and the other’s his girlfriend.”

“They come by every night,” continued a new voice.

“Thanks for your patients,” Denali finished. “Good night.” Denali slowly headed back towards the Beast. Wolf could feel some one getting up out of the ally. He was carrying something like a brick.

“You too,” said the boy. Wolf didn’t hold back. Wolf howled from deep in his chest, startling the boy. Then, Wolf jumped on top of him and broke his left arm. Wolf tossed the boy into the street and brought up his machetes as he turned to face the rest of the group. All appeared horrified and angry at the same time. Except for the one in the back, who had half of a police uniform on and a lifeless body in front of him.

“What did you do?” Wolf demanded in his low growling voice. Before anyone could respond, the kid from the street chucked his brick at Wolf and hit him in the head, knocking his hat off and forcing him to the ground.

“Pop this guy!” ordered the kid. Almost instantly, two of the boys in the ally jumped at Wolf, but staggered back when they got close enough to see his face.

Wolf slowly got up and stood at his full height, watching the boys he towered over grow white. His black fur was glistening, shrouding his face like a dark mask. A pair of horn like ears pressed as far forward as possible. Two ghostlike eyes, a shining gold with small but noticeable tints of silver, were locked on the cowering boys, sucking in every movement made. But the most startling feature was the long muzzle, with lips pulled back reveling Wolf’s black but healthy gums and fangs which had the appearance of polished ivory. And the blood dripping from the right side of his face, from biting his tongue when he hit the concrete, and the now red glow of the machetes only increased Wolf’s menacing appearance.

“I’m sorry,” called Denali laughingly. “I believe that we forgot to introduce ourselves. First off,” Denali tossed the hat and jacket to the side. “I’m not a cop. My name’s James. And this is Denali.” Denali extended his hand in the direction of Wolf.

“Why isn’t this guy dead?” shouted the kid from the street, practically running at the boys in the ally. Wolf turned his head sharply to glare at the kid whose arm he broke, who then stopped and grew pale as he fell to the ground from his sudden stop. He instantly began to stand up and try to walk away, but could not move from where he now stood.

“A little something that you all should know about Denali here,” continued Denali. “He doesn’t like to be threatened. Especially by those who think that they’re better than the world.”

Wolf took three quick steps towards the kid in the street and rammed his elbow into his chest, fracturing his chest bone instantly. The kid fell to the ground and began to roll around like a worm that had just been chopped in two. Wolf could hear some windows opening up and down the street. But the click of a bullet being loaded into a gun behind him gained Wolf’s attention.

Before Wolf looked, he knew by the pitch of the click the gun was a Jericho 941. The boy holding the pistol was trembling with fright. Face wiped of all color, clammy sweat gathering on his forehead and hands, and the scent of urine being collected by his oversized cotton jeans. Wolf let a small smile show. But he refused to get cocky. The boys were a small and almost insignificant threat, but a threat nonetheless. Any animal that has been threatened and backed into a corner with a fighting chance will take it.

“Don’t move, freak!” shouted the boy, his voice cracking. Wolf took a step back and lowered his blades. But before anyone could react, Wolf ran up to the boy and with a downward stroke sliced the gun in two. Wolf then used his momentum to swing his left foot up and plant a solid heel kick to the boy’s throat, paralyzing his vocal cords. Wolf heard another click of a gun to the back left, this time a Buck Mark .22 LR Target Pistol. Wolf continued his momentum so that he was standing on the chest of the boy silently falling. Wolf pushed off and heard the gun fire and bullet whizzing past his ear. In mid air, Wolf twisted and swung a right jab at the boy who just fired. Wolf’s fist hit the gun first, crumpling the barrel like a newspaper. But Wolf continued moving forward. Soon after the gun was demolished, Wolf collided with the kid. The boy knocked his head against the wall, falling to the ground unconscious.

Wolf felt something hit his right shoulder before he stood. He looked to the ground to see an OTF Scarab switchblade. The blade was out, but the owner threw the knife wrong, making the handle, rather than the blade, hit his intended target.

“You idiot!” shouted one of the three remaining boys. Wolf grabbed the knife with his right foot and launched himself into a left side flip, using his speed to send the knife hurdling towards the owner. The blade impaled itself into the boy’s left shoulder. When Wolf landed, he noticed that the boy was wearing a police officer’s uniform, and that two officers were stripped of their uniforms lying against the wall unconscious. Only one boy was wearing a uniform. The other set lay sprawling across the mold strewn concrete.

Wolf chucked his left machete at the boy furthest from him as he ran to the closest. The blade dug deep in the boy’s right thigh and though his bone, until the cross guard stopped the weapon’s flight. The last boy tried to jump out of Wolf’s way. But before he could, Wolf planted his right foot on the boy’s left and spun himself down and to the left, bringing a punch down on the boy’s knee that would have easily demolished doors.

Both boys fell back, but Wolf did not lift his foot off of the defeated punk. Wolf reached down with his left hand and vaulted the boy skyward while releasing his foot. When the boy came back down, with tears pouring from his eyes, Wolf caught him again.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Wolf demanded in his most menacing growl.

“We, we, we, we,” stammered the boy.

Wolf raised his machete to the boy’s nose, the red glow almost blinded the boy. “I asked you a question.” The boy looked like he would die of fright. “Answer me!” Wolf shouted as he shook the boy, letting his broken knee slam into his only functional leg.

“We wanted to look cool!” the boy finally shouted. “We wanted girls to like us! We thought that if they thought we were cops they’d go out with us! Please don’t kill me!”

Wolf brought his machete down, and pulled the boy closer so that he could look him in the eye. “You thought wrong.” Wolf head banged the kid, making him go straight to sleep. The boy down the alley with the machete in his leg seemed to have passed out.

Wolf let the kid drop to the ground and slowly walked up to the unconscious boy with his weapon. “Trying to look cool,” Wolf mumbled. “Trying to look cool? Stupid kids.”

Wolf could suddenly hear rain falling, but he didn’t feel rain coming down. It took him a minute to realize that the sound of rain was really the sound of clapping. Wolf looked at the spectators that had witnessed the entire event from their windows.

“You rock, freaky dude!” Wolf heard someone shout.

“Wolf!” Denali called. “Cops are coming!” Wolf yanked his machete out of the boy’s leg and whipped the blood on the kid’s shirt. Wolf could now feel the cars fast approaching.

Wolf ran while he slid his weapons back into their proper place and picked up his hat from where it had fallen. By the time Wolf was on his bike, Denali already began to speed away. Wolf wasn’t far behind, but neither were the police. It would be easier for them to track them down now that people had seen Wolf, and no doubt they had taken pictures that were being uploaded to their favorite site at this very moment. But Wolf’s worries didn’t lie with the local authorities. His worries were with the fact that Roe would very soon know where he was.

Chapter 8

A soldier, the same one who had given Roe the faxed note from James, was relaying the current leads as to where James might have escaped to. Roe was not listening completely. He caught bits and pieces now and then, but he mostly just stared blankly at the man’s forehead, listing the things he would rather be doing right now.

Eating, sleeping, hunting, killing, practicing, maybe even a little musical lesson, reading a book, Roe listed.

“Mr. Princeton arrived a few hours ago, and he wants to speak with you,” finished the soldier. Roe was waiting for this.

“Send him in at once,” ordered Roe immediately.

“Yes, sir,” stated the man quickly.

Mental note, Roe thought. Keep this kid as a possible replacement.

In a few minutes, the soldier ran through the open door way and moved to the right, allowing a tall man carrying a black handbag, and wearing a hat that concealed most of his face, to enter the room unobstructed. The metal doors, which were bent inwards at the handles, lay to the sides of the doorway to be replaced by the maintenance crew.

“Princeton,” Roe acknowledged in his low, dark tone.

“Roe,” Princeton replied in the same tone, but slightly higher. “Shall we?” Princeton questioned, gesturing to the chairs around the oval table. Roe shook his head and turned away, gazing at the screen. Princeton took a seat anyway, at the far end of the table from Roe, the also directed his attention towards the screen. The monitor revealed a moving image of the compound, which had been mostly repaired from the explosion, but repairs were still needed. “Have has the re-construction progressed?”

Roe refocused on Princeton. “They are a head of their schedules,” Roe gestured towards the doorway as four workers filed into the room to collect the doors. “But behind mine.” The workers split up to take the doors in one trip, but each group had difficulty in lifting the doors off of their last hinge. The doors crashed down after barely clearing the sockets. All the workers stopped to catch their breath.

Princeton looked at the doors from the corner of his left eye. “How did that happen exactly?”

“They were locked, and the bozo handling the keys wouldn’t open them fast enough,” Roe answered coldly. Princeton then noticed a blood stain on the handles of each door.

“I do wish you would stop killing off members of your own security force. They are hard to replace and even harder to train,” Princeton commented with a hint of cold humor in his voice.

“I didn’t kill him,” Roe mumbled angrily. “Just put him in the infirmary.”

“I hope he recovers soon,” Princeton commented. But paused before continuing as the workers began to drag the doors across the floor, causing a deathly screech to fill the room. “You’ll need all the men you can get.” The screeching continued on.

Roe could feel the vibrations in the floor and his head, causing him to move. More on impulse that need, Roe stomped over to the doors. The workers quickly moved away out of fear. Using his right foot, Roe pushed the door to his right, sending it down the hall and breaking through the wall. He then picked up the other door and used his spinning momentum to send it flying after the first door. The workers ran out after the doors that Roe sent into the room down the hall.

“Where were we?” demanded Roe as he took the seat across the table from Princeton.

“We didn’t start yet,” Princeton answered.

“We have two new targets for you to catch,” stated Roe with a voice like ice. Roe picked up a remote like device that was completely transparent, and pointed it at the screen. The wall switched to several photos of James before he was transformed into the monster he became. “This is Captain James A. Nama. He was originally part of a radio patrol team near the front lines in Europe. His convoy was attacked by Spanish rebels allied with Al Qaeda forces just outside of Portugal. None survived.”

“Except James,” Princeton commented.

“Nama survived, but was near death when he was found,” Roe clarified.

“Then why was he counted among the dead?” Princeton questioned.

“He, needed to be dead,” Roe answered. “To prevent, complications else where.”

“Is he one of the targets?” Princeton wondered.

“Not exactly,” stated Roe. The picture changed to a video of Wolf dressed in black camouflage pants with a grey shirt, attached to heart monitors and other sensors, practicing hand to hand combat with large fighting dummies. “He was transferred to a top secret R & D lab, doing DNA processing.”

“He was transformed into,” Princeton sounded confused. “That?” pointing at the screen.

“Yes,” Roe said surprisingly calm. “Nama was planed to be the start of the next generation of super soldiers. Stronger, faster, smarter, and the physical ability to intimidate almost anything. He was the first success. The same lab then tried to replicate their results with other test subjects. All failed.” Roe tapped the remote to end the video, just as Wolf shredded the manikin into three separate parts in a single attack. “The lab quickly lost funding and fell into bankruptcy. They were replaced with a different lab that also specialized in DNA work.”

“What were they supposed to accomplish?” Princeton wondered.

“They were ordered to replicate new subjects similar to Nama,” answered Roe while bringing up another picture that resembled James. “Here is the first successful clone. He was code named Denali 254.”

“What was the system that was used to label the different clones?” pressed Princeton.

“The scientists went through the English alphabet for the first letter in each ‘name’ and the number is the which one the subject is,” clarified Roe.

“So you are?” Princeton immediately questioned.

Roe looked Princeton in the eye. “I am Roe 256.” Roe turned back to the screen. “Denali is the other target.”

“Tell me,” Princeton demanded. “How did they escape?”

Roe tapped the remote, making a new video start.

Chapter 9

It was snowing in the compound. The white, crisp flakes gently falling from the sky made the prison look almost romantic. The glow of the almost new moon was enough for James to make out some of the smallest details in the wire fence with his new eyes. The fence was thick and high, and separated the compound into eight sections. All the entrances and exits were blocked by at least five guards at any given time.

James slunk over to his cot and reached under the mattress. James pulled out a series of small interlocking spikes and a small war hammer. James quietly brought them to the multi-lock door that kept him trapped until the next morning.

As James knelt down in front of the door, he thought of how much longer it would take him to get out. James began to use the hammer to nail the spikes into the corners of the square tiles in front of the door. After almost a year of doing the same routine of nailing the spikes that he stole from maintenance into the floor, James thought that he might get out of here sooner than later.

James knelt until his knees felt like lead, then kept kneeling. He hammered until his hands felt swollen, but continued on. Constantly thinking of how he would get out.

………………………………………………………………………………………

By 3:00 AM, James had used all of his twelve spikes and covered the heads with basic paint, which he made using the cleaning products he also stole and paint chippings off his cell wall and ceiling.

“Three more hours until wake-up,” James mumbled to himself. “Nap time.” James quietly slunk over to his bed, where he laid face up, eyes closed, mind racing. “The floor is approximately five feet thick, or sixty inches,” James mumbled to himself as he fell asleep. “Each spike is six inches. Ten spikes per corner for this to work. Just five more spikes, and then freedom.”

James went to sleep slower than usual. By the time the alarm blared for wake up call, he had only gotten two hours of sleep.

“All right, Princess!” the jailer called. “Time to wake up!” James did not want to get up. The surgery had taken a lot out of him, and demanded more. Not to mention the lack of proper rest he was getting recently. “I said wake up!” the jailer shouted again. He fumbled with the key to the door and stomped in. James cracked open his right eye enough to see the name tag.

“Go away, Rade,” James mumbled as he turned onto his left side. James could hear something being pulled out, and clicked on. He did not wait to find out what. James kicked off his bed using his left arm and leg, which vaulted him into the air. He flew about an inch above Rade’s reach, and landed on his right hand and knee on the other side of the cell, now facing Rade.

James looked up to see what appeared to be a cattle prod protruding from Rade’s left trembling hand. Rade soon got over his surprise and lunged at James with the prod, electricity buzzing through the device. As Rade ran at him, James got to his feet and spun on his left heel.

While spinning, James caught the prod just below where he would have been shocked in his left hand. Using his momentum, James was able to pull the weapon out of the guard’s hand and shove his right elbow into Rade’s neck, just below his jaw.

Rade was sent sprawling across the polished tile, banging his shoulder into the wall. James took a few quick steps towards Rade, and picked him up with his right hand. Rade, barley conscious, looked in glazed horror at James. James pulled Rade closer to him.

“You people took my life,” James growled in his new, deep throat. “You took my humanity, who I was. I will keep my rest.” James then shoved the activated prod into Rade’s left arm pit, and threw him out of the cell.

James slammed the door shut and, with out Rade seeing, yanked the key to his door off of the ring. Using the paint he had left over from last night, James drew a copy of the key’s dimensions on the under side of the board under his cot, making notches that he would use as a reference as to the different sizes of the key. Length, width, and so on.

Rade slowly stood up, turning the electric prod off and disconnecting the high voltage battery pack. Noticing that his keys were on the floor, Rade bent over to pick up the set, but saw that the key to James’ cell was missing. Rade turned on his radio.

“Code Red, Code Red,” Rade spat into the device. The compound wide speaker system reiterated every word that Rade spoke. “The subject has his key. I repeat, The Subject has his key!”

James could feel the entire compound vibrate with the pounding of hurried feet. While Rade had his back turned, James threw the key as far from his cell as he could. The short metal rod went hurdling down the hall, stopping just above the intercom station by the furthest door and made an indent in the steel lined walls half of an inch deep.

Red lights flashed and an alarm blared so intense, that it made James wince. The doors at both ends of the hall burst open and soldiers filled the entire floor. Everywhere James looked, he saw assault rifles locked of him. Millions of tiny red dots from laser guides aiming at every lethal kill zone on his body. Very slowly, James raised his hands in show of submission.

“Return the key,” called a voice that James assumed was the commander of the soldiers. “And we won’t shoot you.”

“How can I return something,” James replied. “If I don’t have it?”

“Don’t play innocent!” Spat Rade, rubbing his arm. “I know you took it!” James pointed at the dent in the wall by the door. A few soldiers took their eyes off of James, but only for a moment to see what he was pointing at.

“Why is…” some one started to say. But stopped when Roe walked into the hall.

“Because he’s trying to fool you,” Roe whispered loud enough for his voice to softly echo. The soldiers parted and backed away from the cell. Roe hovered just inches from the door