The Eagle and the Wolf (544 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.86 on 21 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by HighVoltage900 (View user info) at 2007-07-05 10:41:29 EDT
My name is Jason Mathis, and eighteen stairs is a long way.
It's not a long way when you walk down them, but falling them is quite something else, and trying to shield the typewriter sized machine in my arms with my body wasn't helping. My right shoulder, already crippled from before when some wide necked Russian thug slammed a metal chair on it, that's going to be my point of impact. I have spun just right so that I can land on it and roll away instead of allowing the uninjured parts of me to be damaged.
At some point in initiation you begin to look at yourself differently. You are a machine, a biological machine that can suffer and function based on the care you give it. I take good care of my machine, I have to. Not too good as to be suspicious, but underneath a small layer of fat I am coiled muscle ready to spring.
Still, in these days it doesn't matter much. A bullet shot from a hundred yards away can end your life before your mind even registers the gunshot noise. Training helps you to not focus on that. Living in constant fear wears down a person, makes them paranoid and weak. Not that you shouldn't be paranoid, just in controlled amounts. Healthy paranoia keeps you healthy.
Though I'm not very healthy now. Hurling myself down eighteen concrete steps onto my shattered shoulder will not make me feel any better, but its better than being where I just was.
I had been in this installment for seven months. After I finished my work at Langley I was sent to Washington with a fake identity and a job application. Someone high up in the Soviet embassy who I had apparently known for years vouched that I was more loyal to the party than to my home country. The words I had to say were thick in my mouth but they came out. Lies and ignorance. I told them what they needed and wanted to hear. If there is one thing the Soviets like the most, it's corrupting Americans to their side. I met a few of them. The real traitors. I would have wrung their necks if I could have gotten away with it. It's not they they are actively killing Americans, killing my countrymen and their own, but just by going to work they are stabbing Uncle Sam in the back. Ungreatful wretches. Law or no law, I will destroy every last one of them before I see the hammer and sickle over The Capital Building.
I guess after a while my credentials didn't hold up, and I hadn't gotten any closer to the machine. My assignment, a machine with a file buried in mountains of paper work in the Pentagon. The file was headed "The Abacus 6", and it was top secret.
The Abacus was the American name for the Soviet code device that was used to transmit encoded messages from the Kremlin to their detachments around the world. Every few years a new Abacus machine comes out with trickier designs and harder codes. I'm not a math guy, I don't know the number of random codes it an generate, but whatever the codebreakers say they need, they normally get.
And that is where guys like me come in, which brings me back to the room with the Russian thug and the concrete stairs. After seven months of toiling in paperwork, I was taken into a room in the basement. I was, for all intent and purposes, not on Earth anymore. No one knew I was there, no one would know unless I told them.
That's when Boris McMeathead went to work on me. I can take punches, I can take kicks. But when he picked up the chair I was sitting in I got annoyed. As the metal chair came down on my shoulder, I took my chance. I took the hit and wrapped my arm around and between the legs of the chair and wrenched it from his hands. I used it as a gauntlet and jabbed it into his fat face. He began fumbling for a gun that was strapped to his side but it was too close range and his fingers weren't quick enough. I jammed the metal chair into his neck and crushed his windpipe. The shock made him stop going for his gun and reach for his neck. Stupid Russians, hiring common gangsters who are stupid and fearful whenever they meet their match. I kicked him in the stomach and shoved him to the ground before I grabbed the chair with both hands and beat his skull in.
This all happened in about.... maybe thirteen seconds.
The guard standing outside the locked door then made mistake number two. He was trying to open the door to help his friend. His machine gun was already drawn but he was fumbling for keys. Again a perspective of time is needed, this time for me. How long will he take to get his keys and open the door? Will he be quick which would require me to charge the door and make the fight close range, or would he be slow giving me precious seconds to grab Ivan's pistol?
My brain made up its mind immediately. Pistol. Go for it. I lunged onto the fallen Russian's body and began to pry the pistol, a TT-33 out of its holster.
Seconds ticked by. Nerve wracking seconds.
The door clicked as the lock gave up holding the door closed. It swung open and I spun around.
Two loud barks of flame erupted from my pistol and two hot slugs pierced the guards body. One in the chest, the other in the jaw. He dropped.
I was beyond fucked, I needed to get out but not without the Abacus. It's funny, it's a war to save American lives but mine is well worth this stupid machine. How many people would be spent to get the machine if neccessary? Would they send soldiers to die as long as there was only one person left to protect? I don't know. I'm not supposed to know. I'm supposed to follow orders.
I rushed out of the torture room and ran full speed down the drab hallway. I knew where I was, and where I should go.
A pair of soldiers entered the hallway, easy. Three pops and they fell. A few ounces of metal ended two human lives. Tragic right?
I normally would have acted nonchalantly and tried to blend in, but my shoulder looked fucked up. It was don't get me wrong, but it looked it, I couldn't hide that mess. So I ran with my gun drawn.
Targets everywhere, but some can't be targets. Who to kill? Who would I kill to get out? Everyone if neccessary, but it isn't. I just need to kill a few.
The Abacus room, it's a bolted room that any engineer would love to get into, but I'm in a hurry. I shoot out the bolt and kick the door open to reveal more enemies, more targets.
Targets. That's all they are.
In the back of the room is a dark man, short cut black hair. Black stubble on his face and a slender frame. When everyone looks at me, he is the quickest to react.
I fire a few rounds and drop behind a partition. Gun fire erupts. How many did I count? Four... no five. Five including the dark man. And I might have killed one, I didn't confirm it.
I sat there for what felt like days as the world around me banged and shattered. It was odd to get shot at, to know someone wanted you dead.
And sitting next to me on a desk covered in gadgets and papers, as though placed by the will of God himself, is an Abacus. It's funny how things sometimes work out like that, I don't question providence, but I do curse misfortune.
I fired the last few rounds I had and eject the magazine. I slam a fresh one in that I stole from a fallen guard and open fire a bit more before lunging for the Abacus. Three men are down as I glance around. The dark man is still up and firing methodically and calmly at me. I grab the tip of the Abacus and roll to the door near me. The door pings and pangs as bullets hit it after I scramble out. I slam it shut and watch the two men inside rush it. Closing the door will maybe buy me two seconds.
I run, full out. I run because I'm afraid, I run because I feel like I've gotten the game winning pass in a football game, I run because I want to go home, but I run faster than hell.
Stairs. A flight of stairs leading to an emergency exit. It certainly is an emergency.
The door behind me opens, and the lead flies by me. I jump down the stairs and collapse on my bad shoulder. The machine takes a nasty knock but not as bad as I do. I flip onto my feet and race for the door, hardly pausing to touch the handle. It's open, I'm out. Air. Fresh air. Sky. Sun. Death. More death. I have to deal more death before safety.
The guard post that protects the entrance to the Soviet Embassy compound has two guards and a road block built to stop cars. Not me. I am an angel, I am guided by the hand of god, I am on fire, I am unstoppable now because I see my safety. I plug one guard's head with lead and his friend begins shooting at me. He's scared, I can tell. I end his fear and any other feelings he had.
I run between the road blocks and keep going. I'm on Washington streets now getting crazy looks and amused grins.
I walk to my drop point. It's a long way, I'll leave it at that.
It's June, 1978. I am the American people. I am their arm.
I am their Eagle.
User Reviews
Submitted by orph (user info) at 2007-07-16 11:02:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by loki (user info) at 2007-07-11 14:28:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I thought I rated this.
I'm sure I had something pithy to say but fuck if I know what it was now.
One itty bitty point and keep in mind that I was up at 3 am chasing a cat that was chasing a mouse, but he didn't fall down 18 flights of stairs so much as he fell from a height of 18 stories.
I could be wrong though.
I'm sleeepy.
carry on
Submitted by HighVoltage900 (user info) at 2007-07-06 10:23:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Wow that's one of the few reviews that actually has constructive criticism in it.
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2007-07-06 08:41:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by DrogoRoch (user info) at 2007-07-05 11:36:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2007-07-05 11:34:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This is a boy story.
--
Yeah? so what's a 'Guuuurllll' doin readin it then? huh? huh?
Ewww Guuuurlllls have germs.
See you behind the bike sheds after class.
===============================================
+1 for the story - Zebra has some good feedback for you below.
+2 for that review above.
Submitted by Zebra (user info) at 2007-07-05 16:44:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
This was okay. It's certainly ambitious, length-wise, for this site, (and it's really not very long for short fiction so that's sad) but I honestly found this to be rather boring.
A thriller needs to be thrilling, and this, while interesting, didn't draw me into the plight of the protagonist.
It wasn't poorly written, but it could definitely use more careful crafting. Get a thesaurus and work on your vocabulary. Think outside the box and give the guy a personality quirk, or a better sense of humor (I think you attempted this) or something else unexpected.
The problem with writing stuff like this is it's hard to keep it from sounding boilerplate. This sounded like a thousand spy novels and there was nothing to make it stand apart. Very hard to take such an oft-used genre and freshen it up.
I liked the comparison of the man as a machine who was damaging his parts to rescue an actual machine, but it really didn't go anywhere.
Much of this felt derivative, as if you were imitating things you've read and/or seen as opposed to writing with your own voice. I would guess you are probably pretty young. Very few writers find a truly distinctive style at all, let alone before they've been writing for years or lived a lot more life than is evidenced by your work.
I thought your first line was very good.
I thought your last three sentences were terribly melodramatic.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2007-07-05 15:17:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
good job, McGuyver
Submitted by BobLobla (user info) at 2007-07-05 14:29:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Fuck this, i'm not reading all that
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2007-07-05 14:26:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by raebuf (user info) at 2007-07-05 12:40:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I quite liked this.
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2007-07-05 12:15:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Do continue this. It's necessary.
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2007-07-05 12:14:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"No comment."
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2007-07-05 11:39:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent piece.
Submitted by DrogoRoch (user info) at 2007-07-05 11:36:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2007-07-05 11:34:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This is a boy story.
--
Yeah? so what's a 'Guuuurllll' doin readin it then? huh? huh?
Ewww Guuuurlllls have germs.
See you behind the bike sheds after class.
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2007-07-05 11:34:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This is a boy story.
Submitted by DrogoRoch (user info) at 2007-07-05 11:27:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I would say go with it. This was a good read. I shall look forward to more.
Submitted by HighVoltage900 (user info) at 2007-07-05 11:25:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I really should have put "Part One" in the title.
I have toyed with an idea of a Cold War spy story for a while and I figure Uber can help me write a few chapters.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2007-07-05 11:25:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
comment
Submitted by DrogoRoch (user info) at 2007-07-05 11:18:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked this a lot.
Also I liked 'Boris McMeathead ' it's strange how just putting a 'Mc' in front of a name makes it a hell of a lot funnier.
Submitted by Susie_Derkins (user info) at 2007-07-05 11:08:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I like that there was no dialogue in this.
Submitted by HighVoltage900 (user info) at 2007-07-05 11:06:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
\/ I hate comments like that \/
Submitted by Mike-Mc (user info) at 2007-07-05 10:53:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment