Just Another Job (34 page)

“Fair warning, Erik!” said Chris from behind
the cubicle. He had his hand ready to drop the soldering iron to
hopefully ignite a cannon that had been sitting dormant for who
knows how many years with or without gunpowder packed in it. “There
really is a bomb in here.”

Erik bellowed out a laugh and then said,
“Don’t give me that bullshit bluff. You don’t have a bomb, but I
do. You three little fucks are going to be stuck in here with my
real bomb to suffer a noble or traitorous death. I’m not sure yet
how I want it spun in the media.”

Chris stood up to peek over the cubicle
wall. They were separated by close to twenty yards, but Erik
quickly caught sight of the fading gold helmet on top of Chris’s
head.

“Is that you? What the hell are you
wearing?” asked Erik genuinely amused. Johnykin stood up too and
Erik let out another laugh. “My God, those can’t be
comfortable.”

“Trust us or not, Erik,” said Chris, “But
we’re not going to stick around to let you blow us up.” Johnykin
grasped Chris’s hand.

“Then we’ll just shoot you in the head, I’ll
pry the bullets out of your skulls, and then I’ll fucking blow you
up,” said Erik. “It still works out so nicely.”

Johnykin had Chris’s shield and began
slipping it on his back as added protection. Chris went along but
was careful to switch hands with the iron so he could drop it when
ready. Erik walked slowly towards the cubicle with his four men
behind still keeping their hands close to their hips. Then Erik
moved his good arm to one of the men. The man pulled a sling over
his head that was attached to a black bag identical to the one
Chris had on the floor beside them. Erik took hold of the strap and
stopped walking, while his men moved forward and took their guns
from their holsters.

Chris looked into Johnykin’s eyes. She
looked back only for a moment then plucked their black bag from the
ground and heaved it at the four approaching men. The sight of the
black bag soaring and hitting the floor in front of the men was
like a grenade. They all jumped or stumbled for cover and threw
their arms around their heads.

Erik was the only one not to react. He
walked the couple feet to the bag and gave it a hard look before
kicking it open. The tools scattered across the floor and the four
men scrambled to their feet trying to hide their embarrassment by
heading into a run for Chris and Johnykin’s hideout.

Johnykin flung her prop sword in the
direction of Erik’s henchman. The heavy sword hit one squarely in
the head sending him toppling over like a prop tree. Chris finally
dropped the hot iron into the cannon’s vent and Johnykin took the
lead for their escape to the second floor stairwell.

There was no successful sound of explosion.
Chris turned his head to peer back while still running. The cannon
sat where they left it undisturbed, but the now three men with guns
came up to it. They hesitated and stepped around it slowly but
didn’t want to face the same shame for falling for a trick twice
and hurried on.

A gunshot rang out and Chris, looking ahead
to the stairwell again, saw a chunk of drywall burst in front of
him. Another shot made a loud clanging noise and pushed the shield
into his back. The shield actually worked.

Next came the most surprising sound. An
explosion that made the whole floor vibrate. Chris and Johnykin
threw their arms over their heads and stopped to see. The cannon
fired and without a brake holding it in place it had surged
backwards into one of the gunmen. He lied in a crumpled mess,
clutching a severely broken leg trapped under one of the wheels.
The two remaining stared back at their fallen comrade in shock
until Erik finally made his way up to the scene.

Erik walked over to the cannon's new resting
place and looked down almost sympathetically at his employee
writhing in pain. The man cried as Erik slunk down next to him, but
Erik moved his attention a few inches over to the gun the man
dropped on the floor. Erik picked it up and quickly rose to take
aim at Chris.

Johnykin and Chris swiveled back into their
run for the second floor. Chris felt relieved when another push on
his back and clanging of metal told him the shield was holding up
still. More gunshots from the two men following Erik's lead echoed
in the first floor but Chris and Johnykin were now only steps away
from the door.

They were going to make it, thought Chris
until he remembered Frank was still in the basement. Johnykin
slipped through the door and ran up the stairs but Chris stopped
just inside the door. He watched their pursuers, Erik walking and
not even bothering to shoot anymore while his two men jogged in
front with their guns firing randomly into the metal door.

Out of the corner of Chris's eye he saw what
he had hoped for. Frank burst through the basement door as a poor
man's Achilles. His armor was the worse for wear but he wore it
with tall pride along with a spear that could only look menacing in
his hand. With a quick decisive conclusion, Frank reared back his
arm and launched the spear in the direction of Erik's hired
guns.

The spear wobbled horribly in the air but
struck into the outstretched arm of one of the men. A splintering
of wood and bone sent the gunman toppling over himself. The point
of the spear did nothing just like Johnykin's sword, but the force
of the throw dropped Erik's team to two.

Even after the shock of losing another
member so quickly, they had guns and were still aiming to kill.
Chris pulled the shield from his back and took it in hand while
sprinting to Frank's position. Frank began his own run for safety
after throwing the spear. They met halfway and Chris skidded to a
stop in order to turn back to the second floor access. Frank ran to
the inside of Chris, who held the shield facing the new barrage of
bullets.

“Shoot around the fucking shield!” said
Erik, but Chris and Frank already jumped inside the relative safety
of the stair well and swung the door behind them.

Chris heard Johnykin’s footsteps pound above
him. He and Frank took the stairs in twos to catch up. On the
second floor they stopped. Johnykin was nowhere in sight and they
couldn’t hear her running anymore. The space was only lit by a few
grimy windows, which left plenty of spots in the dark.

They couldn’t stand around looking.
“Johnykin!” said Chris and Frank together.

“Up here!” said Johnykin. She was in one of
those dark spots. With a second sharpened glance, Chris saw her
standing five rungs up on a ladder connected to the wall fidgeting
with something on the ceiling.

The door to the stairwell banged open
signifying Erik’s arrival. Chris immediately threw his shield to
the ground and picked up one of the hundreds of computer monitors
and tossed it down the stairs. Frank followed it with a pair of
towers. The two continued with every piece nearby they could grab.
Curses and shouting from the bottom of the stairs spurred them to
throw more of the computers and parts to build up the blockade.
Eventually Johnykin joined in until there were only the mouses left
behind. A small sense of satisfaction spread over the sweaty faces
of the three Greek clad warriors. They had bought at least some
time to plan out their next steps.

“I can’t get the hatch open,” said Johnykin,
“To the roof. I figured that was safer than here but —”

“Come on,” said Chris. His breathing still
came out in tired gasps, but he picked up the shield and jogged
over confidently to the ladder Johnykin stood on moments ago.

With a sense of modest security that Erik
and his henchman would need a few minutes to break through the mess
of computer parts, Johnykin and Frank walked over to Chris to watch
his performance. At the top of the ladder, Chris eyed the handle to
release the hatch for the roof. The lock looked older than the one
hanging broken on the stairwell door behind them. Chris looked down
at the shield that had surprisingly stood up to so much already,
but on closer examination it might have been more about luck.

Five bullets had stopped just short of
puncturing through the metal while a couple more gave glancing
blows that still dented the shield quite a bit. Chris lowered the
shield and steadied his balance on the ladder. Then he widened his
eyes to take in every detail of the lock and swung the shield up
without holding an ounce of strength back. The metal on metal hurt
his ears and his arm tingled from the hit. A quick glance showed
him a small indentation in the lock and a large crumpling of the
metal edge on the shield. He hit it again with the same marginal
progress.

Then Johnykin and Frank whipped around from
their steady gaze at Chris’s work back to the stairwell. Chris
looked also to see the pile of computer debris shift. He
immediately went back to the lock and hit it again. Frank and
Johnykin kept watching the inevitable and stepped slowly backwards
to get as close to the ladder as they could without interfering
with Chris’s increasingly frantic swinging.

Chris’s arm ached and the sweat dripped into
his eyes, still he could see the old lock slowly succumbing to his
relentless battery. The shield was now splitting around the edges
and generally falling apart in his hand.

More rumbling and shifting of plastics from
the stairwell urged Chris on. They had to get out now. Erik and his
man had less than fifty yards to get to them. Johnykin bumped into
Chris’s leg. He stopped to look down. Johnykin and Frank were
transfixed on the emerging hands and then head of Erik. Chris gave
the now deformed shield hanging limply on his arm a prayer before
throwing it again at the lock.

The force of the last blow severed the lock.
Chris quickly shifted the dilapidated shield to the arm hooked
around the ladder rung. His now free arm grabbed the lever to open
the hatch, but he couldn’t get a grip. The metal from the shield
shredded the top of his hand and knuckles. The blood had spread all
over his palm and down his arm.

Chris jumped down and said, “Johnykin open
it.”

She saw the blood and climbed up. Johnykin
tugged on the lever and it moved freely. She pushed the hatch open
and climbed up. Frank followed as Chris stood watching the
stairwell. Erik had his torso clear of the rubble and he stared
down the room at Chris. Then Erik looked down to his waist and
pulled up a gun. Chris jumped out of his trance. He turned back to
the ladder. Frank and Johnykin were looking down and yelling at
Chris to hurry. He slung the shield over his back as gunfire echoed
across the second floor. The shots missed and Chris climbed,
careful not to lose his grip with the blood-slicked hand.

Frank held one arm down to help and Johnykin
copied him. Two more rungs and he could reach up to them. Another
gunshot echoed and then pain. The bullet hit. Chris looked down to
see the damage he felt in his leg. A golf ball size of skin and
muscle was missing. Then the blood pumped out and trickled down to
his shoe. Chris pulled the injured leg from the rung to hang loose.
He didn’t want to bring it back and put pressure on it, but he had
to get to the roof.

Chris had to move. He couldn’t wait with
Erik now running towards the ladder. Johnykin and Frank’s arms
reached down further. Chris gripped the ladder as tight as his
hands could get and skipped up to the next rung with his good leg.
It worked until his bloodied hand slipped, but he was far enough
for Frank to grab hold. Frank pulled his arm to a point where
Johnykin could grab the other just as another gunshot blasted
through the air.

Frank and Johnykin heaved Chris on to the
gravel rooftop. The tiny pebbles immediately stuck to Chris’s open
wound causing even more pain. Once on their feet, Johnykin and
Frank pulled Chris’s arms over their shoulders. The three of them
hobbled along to the edge of the rooftop opposite the access hatch
they just came from and the one Erik would be coming out too.

Overhead flew a news helicopter. It reminded
Chris about the original plan. They hadn’t checked to see if the
video loop played. At the end of the roof, Chris pulled his phone
out. Frank followed his lead while Johnykin supported Chris and
watched. They tapped the internet browser and immediately it popped
up.

“Try an app. Try FaceBook,” said Chris.

“It’s running,” said Frank. He smiled but
reluctantly as if not to jinx the success.

Johnykin squeezed Chris’s shoulder. He
smiled too and felt the pain of everything fall away. Johnykin
squeezed him again. Chris looked up and saw her staring straight
ahead. It was Erik. Chris knew it before looking for himself.

Erik stepped out cautiously onto the rooftop
with his gun ready, expecting an ambush. Right behind him was the
last of the henchmen. Erik noticed the helicopter too and lowered
his gun as he walked over to Chris, Frank, and Johnykin still
dressed up in their Greek armor.

“Do you really want the world to see you
like this?” asked Erik, pointing at the tarnished metal.

“They've already seen who we really are,”
said Chris, and he held up his phone.

A confused look touched Erik's face for the
briefest of moments but with the swipe of his arm a confident smile
took its place. The movement also allowed the black bag hanging
across his back to be positioned into his hand for a bolder
sight.

“They see whatever I tell them to see,” said
Erik. He pulled his phone from the bag and stared a moment.
“Although that's not what I would've preferred, I can work around
it. It doesn’t change the past. You can’t stop what I’ve done.” He
put the phone away.

“I’m not changing anything. I just can see
it now. It’s like a rerun,” said Chris.

“Did you see this coming?” said Erik, and
pulled out another item from the black bag; the bomb he had
promised existed back at the lobby. Chris had never seen one in
real life but it looked straight out of a movie. There were four
steel pipes wrenched together with end caps screwed on, along with
four wire fuses connected to a small, plastic trigger case. It fit
in Erik’s hand like an oversized ballpark hotdog.