Axel
I should have died on that stretch of road in the middle of nowhere, but I didn’t. The bullet they shot me with was pulled out, and when they patch me us they decided against putting another one in my head. Instead they offered me a choice: rot in jail for the rest of my life, or take on an impossible mission.
If I somehow pulled off their mission, they would let me go back to my family. I would have to go deep undercover behind enemy lines. It would take a year, easy. I was part of a team, all of whom posed as immigrants defecting from the states. We had military training, but they didn’t know that. We all had different stories; some of them even had a fake family to go with their fake names.
I was a loner before, and I was going to be a loner again in this new life. It wasn’t too hard to fool them. They expected a bad boy with an attitude problem and an issue with authority. That’s exactly what they got. I almost didn’t make it over the border, spent some time in a holding cell after taking a few swings at a military man, but it was worth it. He was an asshole, and my cover was more believable than ever.
I was assigned work at one of their factories producing weapons and ammo on an assembly line. It was mindless work, but they had me steal small samples on a weekly basis. It was never enough to really cause a problem, but enough for them to get a leg up on the enemy. That, of course, wasn’t my ultimate mission.
No, I was just biding my time until the real target showed up: the General of the EOF, chosen by representatives of its countries. The brains of the operation as it were. He was due to tour the factories at some point during my stay. It took almost a year before they gathered us all in the main hall and announced that the glorious leader of the EOF would be coming to tour our factory.
I didn’t sleep a wink that night. The mission involves killing the General, but that was just the beginning. Once it was done, we had to get out on our own. That way, if we’re captured, they could deny involvement. We were all draft-dodgers, but now, we were all going to do this together.
The phone rang in my one-bedroom apartment on the morning of the tour. I picked it up with a shaking hand.
“Oh-four-seven-two-six-victor-Charlie-Zulu, checking in,” I said.
There was silence on the other end for about ten seconds. I thought I heard someone’s breath crackling in the speaker.
“It’s just us,” a voice said.
“Sir?”
“Don’t ‘sir’ me, none of that matters anymore. Blackwell, they’re all dead.”
If everyone else was gone, that left myself and our squad leader, Patterson. He was undercover as a bodyguard for the General. Another of our agents was supposed to get a job catering the event, and still another was supposed to sabotage aspects of the plant to create an accident. We had multiple options for taking out the target, but now we were down to two: Patterson could kill the general himself, or I could try and come up with another plan.
“How do we proceed?” I asked.
“Report to your shift like usual, I’ll be at the General’s side. We’ll just have to improvise.”
I put the phone down and went through my usual routine to get ready for the day’s work. I was at my post, ready and waiting when the bells rang and the lines started up. The equipment they used was outdated and the items we were assembling were volatile. Other men have died on the line because of a misplaced firing pin, a loaded clip, or a botched grenade.
The door to my section of the factory swung open and a loud voice declared the arrival of the General. We were told to keep working like it didn’t matter. We had to showcase our skills to him and ensure that everything was being done properly. Despite the grinding metal gears and the hum of the machines, I somehow heard every single footstep, moving to the beat of my heart.
I made brief eye contact with Patterson. He eyed me with a glare as if he expected me to have done something by now. As the General approached from behind, I deftly assembled a grenade and placed the trigger pin beside it, as per protocol.
“Excellent time,” the General said.
I continued working as if he hadn’t said anything. He walked past me, along with Patterson. When the next grenade came, I assembled it, placed the trigger pin inside, and then pulled it out. The timer started. I threw the pin at Patterson. It hit him in the back of the head as the grenade slid down the assembly line. He spun around and looked at me as the General continued walking.
I pointed to the assembly belt and Patterson immediately understood. He dove away from the General just as the grenade detonated in a massive fireball. Smoke rushed past me as I was thrown to the ground. The factory alarms blared all around us as I struggled to climb onto my feet. Patterson appeared and helped me stand. My ears were ringing and my vision was blurry.
“That was some quick thinking,” Patterson said.
“Yeah, now comes the hard part.”
From within the swirling smoke, the General emerged. His face was burned and charred. I could see shrapnel protruding from his legs. He lurched toward us and grabbed Patterson by the neck. They tumbled to the ground as Patterson struggled to push him off. I reached down and pulled the pistol from the General’s holster.
He was growling words that I couldn’t understand. His lips could barely move.
“Blackwell, shoot! Do it now!”
I aimed the gun at the smoldering General, but I had trouble pulling the trigger. This would be my first time killing someone.
“Do you want to see your family again?” Patterson asked.
I pictured Jackie and Jacob. That I was all I needed. I squeezed the trigger and put two rounds into the General. Patterson stood up and took the gun from me.
“Hesitate again and I’ll leave you behind. Let’s go.”
We left the factory in all of the commotion. The military was moving in from every angle. The place would be on lockdown in mere seconds.
“How are we going to get out of here?” I asked.
Patterson looked around.
“Find cover, they should be here any minute.”
I followed Patterson to an outcropping hanging over a supply cache. Bombs started falling from the sky. The factory was awash in flames as we hid behind a stack of steel crates.
“An air strike? I thought they wouldn’t come for us?” I asked.
“Not until the job was done! The men on a suicide mission are the most desperate, and the most creative!” Patterson shouted.
“You knew?” I asked.
He nodded as he grinned. “Yeah, but I’m not a draft-dodger. Consider your sins absolved.”
I shook my head. Yeah, maybe one sin, but not all of them.