Chapter 26

Pov Calla

I stagger on the alleys of New York. I still have some distance to the library, and my condition isn’t helping. The paramedic did a fine job, but after being twice shot, and cut with a scalpel, I’m not feeling that great. I have lost a lot of blood, although I’m in no danger to pass out, my vision is a bit blurry.

“fuck..” I mutter under my breath.

I feel like shit.

Other than my physical condition, my mind is wondering about things I rather not think about. Killing a subject brought many things to my mind.

I remember when I first shot a weapon, I was five I think? It was a revolver, and my targets were soda cans. Though at the time, I had no idea what soda was.

I remember when I first killed, it was my dog.

And I remember when I was the first time in combat.

I was nine years old then.

In the snowy forests where I grew up, one day, a car arrived.

From the car, four men came out, one of them was handcuffed.

They took the cuffs off, gave him a weapon and told him to run, and if he survives, he gets to live. Now that I think about it, he had probably betrayed the Caturix, or Al-Aman.

He ran off into the forest as we all watched silently. After ten or so minutes my trainer gave me a gun and told me to hunt him down and terminate him.

Only one of us were to survive.

I did as I was told, and started the hunt. First, I followed his tracks in the snow, but in order to avoid him ambushing me, I soon separated from the tracks. It took me four hours to find him. He wasn’t used to fighting in the forest, so it was easy to get close.

I advanced behind the trees until I was proximity twenty meters away from him. Being my first combat, I forgot to load the weapon beforehand. I cocked the weapon, and he heard it. He slowly turned around.

He tried talking first, suggesting we escape together, but I didn’t know anything at that time besides the forest.

He told me he was KGB, and he needed to report about the group. He tried pleading, while I just stood there aiming at him.

And finally, he tried shooting. Tried.

Before he could point the gun at me, I had already shot him. One through the head, one through the heart.

The sound of the shots echoed, and the forest came to alive, as birds fled from the vicinity.

I took his pistol and made my way back, waiting to be praised.

The praise never came though. My trainer slapped me with the back of his hand and told me that it took too long. Next time I would be faster, is what I thought.

…

I turn left and see the library. With pained steps I enter the building, making sure there is no one looking at me. My clothes are bloodied, and my gait is unsteady, but luckily, I didn’t attract too much attention as I kept to the small alleys.

I must call the Rabbit Hole and inform what happened. Also, I have to give them the contract. It's a bit bloodied but I don't think that will be a problem... At least it didn't explode with John. They do not need to know that the car bomb was meant explicitly for me.

And I will call Mox also. I’ll inform him that the one who came after me has died. There will probably be more coming after me, but at the moment I don’t think there is a threat.

I took 5xy’s phone with me. I have shut it down for now and removed the sim and battery. I’ll worry about it when I have healed.

…

It doesn’t take long to explain the situation to Mox and Rabbit Hole. Mox was happy now that the immediate threat is no longer, and he sounded like he worried about me.

Darrel though, didn’t take John’s death well, and he was practically fuming over the other end of the phone. I think if I play this right, I’ll gain a powerful ally in my fight against the Caturix.

I’m not going to lie to the Rabbit Hole in order to make them my ally, I’ll just tell the right truths to them and forget to mention some. It’ll be a slow process, but I have high hopes. If Darrel were the only one to decide, this would be easier, but he’s just the New York branch leader, and there are more influential people above him.

We agreed that I deliver the contract when I have healed. He tried to ask where I'm staying but I didn't feel inclined to tell. The fewer people know the location of the library, the better.

Now I’ll get some much-needed rest.

Before falling asleep on the mattress, my last thought is that I miss Linda…

Pov det. Anthony Simmons

“…And after that, she told to stop the car, and vanished into the streets. We came back here afterward.” The paramedic finishes his story.

Joshua has gone back to Washington DC so I’m alone now. I’m just helping the NYPD now, as I don’t have jurisdiction over here.

Although we decided we would stop chasing Calla, it’s a different matter when there is a car bombing and shooting that claimed the lives of three people. I walk to the alley by the bar and meet up with Major Shelia.

She is looking at the corpse of the blond man. I glance at the dead homeless, that is about to be bagged, and walk over to the Major. I wonder if the homeless was somehow involved but now is not the time for that.

“…” She says nothing and keeps looking at the dead man, her face is complicated, and I know why.

“The resemblance is too big for it to be a coincidence.” I voice her thoughts out loud.

“I…” As the Major is about to say something we are interrupted.

“We’ll take over the scene now. The police can go to the perimeter.” A man comes and orders. I remember this guy, he’s the man from the Pentagon.

Again, he’s interfering with this investigation.

He’s accompanied by multiple men wearing suits, and they start shooing away the police.

“Mr. Wilson.” The Major greets him with a grimace. I think she isn’t a fan of him getting involved with this.

“Major Shelia. This has nothing to do with the J.A.T.F. so I’ll expect you to leave now. The D.O.D. will take care of this.” He simply says with a smug look.

I expect Linda to object, but on the contrary to my expectations, she agrees. “Very well, we’ll be heading off. Come Anthony.”

We walk in silence as we are nearing the car and I can’t keep my mouth shut anymore.

And since when did she start calling me by my first name instead of detective Simmons?

“Major! Why didn’t you object? I’m sure we could have remained involved if we explained that we have been investigating this a lot longer than the D.O.D.!”

“Anthony… We need to talk…” She says as we are entering the car, holding a serious expression.

…

During the car ride Linda explained a little more about who Calla is, and about what she found out about this ‘Caturix’, and also, she told me about the real identity of Gregory Wilson, A.K.A. Red.

“…”

I’m speechless.

The information about Calla is disturbing and makes me hate the organization that put her through that kind of childhood.

And our government is involved too, and it doesn't look like it's the only government that is a part of this Caturix.

What have I gotten myself into…

Though isn’t this what I wanted?

The bigger fight. Instead of taking some drugs off the street I wanted to join the fight the J.A.T.F. is fighting.

“Does this mean, you are accepting my request to join the J.A.T.F.?”

“It won’t be official or anything for now, but yes. I can’t give you a rank, but it’s in my authority to appoint you as an agent for the intelligence unit. The rank can come later when I meet with General Raven.” She explains to me.

“This is all complicated since officially you are still part of the Washington D.C. police, but for now, they’ll be ‘lending’ you to me. We’ll figure it all out in time.” She continues.

As we talk about the small details her phone rings.

*ring*ring*ring*

She looks at the number before answering. It didn't look like she recognized the number.

“Major Shelia”

“…”

“Alright”

She ends the call.

“Anything important?” I ask her.

“…”

“Major?”

“It was Mox.”

“What?!”

The legendary, ever elusive Mox. No cop has ever come near catching him or even getting a description of him. In fact, we are not even sure he is a he and not a she.

And now he just calls Linda?

“Yes. He wanted to meet. We need to dump our phones first.”

…

After dumping our phones, we follow the instructions Linda got. We drive to an empty parking hall and park next to the only car that is there. It’s a normal white car, nothing extraordinary, aside from the bald man sitting in the driver’s seat. He is wearing rectangular shades, a flower pattern shirt, and jeans. Is that Mox?

We enter the car, the Major taking the seat at the front while I enter the back.

“Linda, Cop.” He greets us.

Well if you can call that a greeting.

“Mox I take it? So what’s this about?” Linda moves the conversation along as Mox starts driving the car.

“It’s about Calla. She has told a great many things about you.” He answers.

Linda is obviously nervous now, though she tries to hide it.

“Is she okay?” She asks.

“She will be. It’s her emotional state I’m worried about, hence I called you. She called me earlier and sounded pretty shaken up. She mentioned me earlier that you have ceased your hunt for him, and from what I have understood, your reasons for chasing after her was always for her best interests?”

“True… I care about her. So where are we going?”

“To her hideout. I’m taking you to her. And Cop, can we trust you?” At his words, I can almost feel the vein on my forehead to be about to burst. Linda, on the other hand, is pleasantly surprised.

“You can.” I simply answer, not letting my anger show on my face and luckily the Major decides to back me up.

“You can trust him. He may still be part of the police force, but he’s going to join the J.A.T.F. officially soon, and be working directly under me.” She explains.

Mox only nods, as he continues to drive.

…

Sometime later he has parked the car, and we are walking towards a four-story building with white walls and support pillars at the front. It’s quite charming.

As we enter I realize what this place is. A library.

We walk to the staircase, avoiding the stacks of books that are everywhere and accent to the upper floors.

There Mox opens a secret door, hidden behind a book shelve, and we follow behind him.

Isn't it a bit of a cliche to hide a secret door behind a book shelve?

There is a room with a table that has monitors which shows multiple feeds from the library and the street outside.

Next to the computer on the table, there is a grenade launcher, which I recognize from the shooting in Washington. There are six grenades next to it.

Aside from the launcher, there is numerous passports, clips, and bullets on the table also.

Linda expertly ignores them as we walk deeper into the secret room and arrive in a room with only a mattress.

And there on the mattress is the person I have been searching for. I immediately recognize her from the time I knocked on her apartment door in D.C. I shudder as I remember how close she was shooting me at that time.

She is wearing a white shirt that has been ripped apart and covered with blood, and black briefs. She has bandages on her side and shoulder, that has leaked a bit of blood through and sullied the mattress.

She's hugging a sniper-rifle to her chest while laying in a fetal position and her pistol is close to her head. I can see that she has been crying, in her sleep or while awake, impossible to tell as she isn’t crying now.

Linda has stopped and just stares Calla with a complicated expression somewhere between worry, sadness and caring.

Carefully she closes towards her and kneels by the mattress.

With a start, Calla wakes up, and the next moment her pistol is aiming at the Majors forehead.

Her eyes widen, as she recognizes the Major, and lowers her gun instantly.

“Linda!” She yells as she jumps at the Major, hugging her and burying her face in her chest.

The Major wraps her arms tightly around Calla, as if she will never let her go, as Calla’s silent sobs are heard.

Mox tugs at my arm, and I turn to look at him. He nods towards the door and starts walking. I understand his meaning and follow him out, closing the door behind me.

I do not wish to interrupt their reunion.

…

Pov Linda Shelia

I’m not sure how long I have been hugging Calla, minutes or hours. It doesn’t matter. All that matter is that she is here now, in my arms, safe.

My heart almost stopped when I saw her. Hurt and wounded. Those were the only words to describe her.

The happy smile she had when I bought her muffins in France were nowhere to be seen. Only a face, sullied by blood and tears along with a battered body that has been through many battles during the past months.

When I caught her in Lebanon and brought her with me, I thought she would not have to suffer anymore. I was wrong. Her first suffering was just exchanged with another.

As time passes her silent sobbing stops and she loosens her hold of me, backing up and looking at my face.

And there is a small smile on her lips now.

“How did you find me?” She asks.

“Mox brought me here. He was worried about you. And I was too. What were you thinking when you left me in France? You know you could have come to me when you were attacked.” I berate her. I wasn’t going to start nagging at her, but I can’t help it now. Doesn’t she realize how much I have worried about her during this time? I feel like I aged ten years in the past two months.

She looks down, guilt written all over her face as she makes herself smaller and lumps to her knees

“sorry” A barely audible apology escapes her lips and my heart melts. I cannot be angry or frustrated at her, as I take her back to my arms and hug her again. She returns the hug and once again we stay there as time passes by.

…

Pov Calla

Linda is here!!

All my worries washed away when I jumped into her hug.

Then she scolded me for leaving…

Then we hugged again, and everything was right in the world!

Caturix, my past, the stress I’ve been under, the subject I killed, the memory of the girl I killed in Lebanon, my wounds, the weird pain in my chest, all that vanished the instant she hugged me.

I do feel guilty for leaving her in France though…

Guilty huh?

The fact of having committed a specified or implied offense or crime.

Or in psychology, the term Guilt refers to an emotion where an individual feels responsible for some action or inaction that is perceived as having negative results.

Some dude called Freud wrote a whole book about it which I skimmed through.

It was a boring book. It only highlighted how fucked up I am...

I remember thinking about guilt when traveling to New York. I thought about how I have never felt it, not before now.

What a weird emotion...

But I did call her to tell I’m okay and shared some information, so she can’t be too angry, right?

The door to the room opens slowly, and I fight the urge to empty my pistol to whoever decided to interrupt us.

It’s the policeman who chased me from my apartment in Washington D.C. Why is he here?

I separate from Linda and notice that she pushed the pistol away from my reach when the door opened.

Was I that obvious?

“*ahem* I don’t like to interrupt, but it has been a few hours already…” The pest starts his lame ass excuse for ruining my alone time with Linda.

He flinches back as he looks at my face.

My expression must have been one promising death and thousand years of torture for his crimes against me, but Linda gently pats my back and everything is alright again!

“Yeah sorry about that. I didn’t notice it has been that long already.” Linda says to him while looking at me.

At my body to be precise.

“And you young lady, you need a shower and to change your bandages. Wouldn’t want your wounds to get an infection now, would we?”

“Okayy” I meekly respond as I start taking my clothes off.

“Calla! About time you learned some modesty!” Linda continues as Anthony quickly turns around

It’s the scars, right?

Well, no matter. I run towards the shower, intending to get it over quickly so I can spend more time with Linda.

…

After a quick shower, I join the rest in the room with the monitors, a towel wrapped around my body.

“You were fast.” Linda smiles to me before continuing “Mox here told about what happened to you and I still have some questions for you, but first things first, who was the second body that was in the alley? The one leaning against the wall?”

“The shady looking guy?” I ask. Why does he matter?

“Shady? I mean the homeless looking guy.”

Homeless, huh? Well, not like I have a real home either.

“I don’t know. He looked shady, so I removed the potential threat.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“What?” They are all looking at me, and not saying anything.

“You shot a man because he looked shady? You can’t do that!” The pest… I mean cop yells. I remember hearing his name but can’t remember it.

“The cop raises a valid point Calla. You can’t do that.” Mox continues. But I did it, though, so why I can’t do it?

And Mox also calls him a cop, so I guess it’s okay for me to do so also.

“I can’t? I did, though.”

“No Calla, you can’t just execute people if they look shady to you. I know this is still all new to you, but not everybody is a threat here.” Linda reprimands me.

Since even Linda says so, it must be so.

“You mean I should have just kneecapped him?” Crippling does not lower the threat status to zero like killing, but I guess I can do that in the future…

“…”

“…”

“Calla…” The other two are silent while Linda just said my name while shaking her head.

“Let’s talk about this another time. Come, I’ll disinfect your wounds and dress them.” She continues while walking to the bedroom. Mattressroom? Whatever.

I follow her and close the door behind me.

I sit on the mattress while dropping my towel as Linda starts taking out bandages and a bottle, alcohol probably.

When did she get those?

I lay there silently as she does her thing.

I’m pretty sure Mox said something about knowing a good doctor who doesn’t ask questions. I should probably see him. I have always healed fast and I don’t think seeing a doctor is necessary, but it would probably speed up my healing time.

My lung was punctured after all, and even if it has clogged and stopped bleeding, the hole still remains. If it opens up, my lung could collapse again.

And the faster I heal the faster I can start moving around, doing jobs, and ultimately, wiping the Caturix from the face of the earth.

They will be only a bad memory when I'm done with them...

And so, I fall asleep again, while Linda is still treating my wounds.