The Samaritan Cometh
Part 4: Truth & Consequences
By Brian Lewis a.k.a Red Vector
Benson was, despite his size whimpering like a whipped dog, and more than willing to
tell me anything I wanted to know. After yanking on an already dislocated shoulder, and
threatening to put a 50 caliber bullet into each knee cap, of course. He told me that he
and Watkins came to take Clayton, under orders from Linderman and Thompson to
Odessa, Texas.
“Why, for what purpose?” But, no sooner than the question was out of my mouth, I felt
a sensation of gathering power behind me. A split second later pulse of energy
resembling a ball of lightening hits Benson squarely in the chest. The man didn’t even
have time to scream, Watkins did however but his screams were abruptly cut short by a
second pulse. I had a brief glimpse of his head disappearing in the flash of the pulse’s
impact. The smell of ozone and charred human flesh was almost overpowering. I dove
out of the path of a third pulse before shooting out the lights, while simultaneously
going stealth.
“Fuck, I lost him.” I heard a man’s voice say. “He’s another Special; I can’t even see
him on infrared.”
I heard a fainter voice come from his radio respond. “You’re not equipped for bag and
tag, primaries have been taken out. The Special will keep for later.”
“Understood, withdrawing” was the man’s response. Not realizing that during his
entire conversation I was approaching him in the darkness. He could not see or hear
me despite his nightvision goggles. I however could see and hear him all too clearly.
“Surprise!” I shout as my fist snaps forward smashing his goggles and a large part of
his face, knocking him backwards. While he’s off balance I seize him by his forearms
and with a flick of my wrists breaking them like dry twigs. Switching my grip to his
upper arms, I repeat the process. He staggers backward blindly, screaming with his
useless arms flapping like a rag dolls.
“Now the only place you’ll be shooting lightening from will be your ass!” I scream at him
as I sweep his legs out from under him. His head hitting the floor silences his screams.
Kneeling down to check his pulse, I see that he’s alive but just barely. Just then his
radio beeps.
“Slayton report.” It’s the same voice I heard earlier.
I take the radio and answer in perfect mimicry of Slayton’s voice. “Slayton here, I was
able to get the Special after all busted him up real good.”
“Is he alive?” the voice queried.
“Yeah but just barely.” I answered smiling.
“Good, if he dies fine, the cleaning crew will pick up the body. If not, like I said before
he’ll keep. When you’re finished withdraw to rendezvous point for debriefing.” The
voice signs off.
“Understood, withdrawing.” I respond.
Not knowing how much time I’ve bought myself I knew I needed to act quickly. It
wouldn’t be long before Sparky’s buddies will get antsy, when he doesn’t show up for
his rendezvous. With that in mind I went to the garage to where I find the last item for
my journey. It’s with same sense of déjà vu that I felt earlier when I remove the cover
from Clayton’s car and reveal a heavily modified black Dodge Magnum. The car was
another of the things that his brother left him when he was killed. It hasn’t been driven
since he died almost three years ago. I touch the hood and I’m suddenly aware of
every part of the car down to the last screw, nut, bolt, and wire. I even know it’s fully
fueled and ready to go, and with that though the engine flares to life. It purrs like a
caged and dangerous animal.
“Behold a dark horse.” I say to myself as I get behind the wheel and drive out of the
garage into the iron grey predawn light.