A Night Out

            Jack Milton locked his door and descended the steps to the sidewalk, where Mark was waiting. He was wearing a conservative but stylish black coat, and a crisp, dark shirt underneath. He had allowed a couple days’ worth of stubble to grow – he’d had good responses the last time with that.

            “All right, Jack. Where are we headed tonight?” asked Mark. Mark had a light shirt, and he wore light brown slacks. Jen had clearly gotten to him. Only two weeks together and already Mark was looking like a married man.

            Mark was kind of a serial monogamist. Jack practically shivered at the thought, but the fact remained that Mark had always made a good wingman. He was like an asexual honey trap.

            “Asexual? Dude, I’m getting laid more than you are,” said Mark.

            “I doubt that very much.”

            “So, we going to Roundhouse?”

            Milton shook his head. “No, they’ve got a live band on weekends. Let’s go to the Rookery.”

            Even in the winter, it was rarely snowy in Reben, even though it was up in the mountains. Despite the cold, the streets were alive with college kids bar-hopping and street performers. Mark and Jack walked down Boulder Street, a wide pedestrian walk favored by clowns, jugglers, and musicians.

            The Rookery was relatively new, with an old-fashioned Retron vibe. It was coffee bar – they served both alcohol and coffee, making it extremely popular with RLAU students.

            They surveyed the scene. “Ok, short brunette in the corner,” said Mark.

            “Possibly…”

            “You don’t seem too enthusiastic.” Mark shrugged. He was a pretty accommodating wingman. Jack was aware that he had somewhat fickle tastes. They sat there for half an hour. Mark nursed a beer while Jack started off with his customary hard coffee.

            And then he saw her. There she was, right there, sitting in the bar. How could she be there? Mark leaned over. “So, the blonde?”

            “What?”

            “You seem interested in that blonde chick. Want your introduction?”

            Jack remembered why he was there in the first place. “I… hang on a second.” He tried to get a better look, make sure it really was that “June” woman. The blonde at the bar turned her head.

            No, of course not. The woman who called herself June was still several stories underground in Castlebrook. There was no way she’d gotten out. Even if she had managed to, they would have let him know immediately. He pulled out his cell phone. No missed calls – well, none except from his brother, but that wasn’t exactly uncommon.

            “So, Jack, are we go or not?”

            Jack put his phone back. Now that he actually got a good look at the blonde woman, yes, she was pretty attractive. Certainly worth a shot. He nodded to Mark.

            Mark got up and leaned up against the bar next to her. He ordered a round of beers and then, in his practiced and perfected way, nodded hello to the blonde woman.

            “Having a good evening?”

            The woman looked up. “I’m fine. How’s yours?”

            “Doing great. Just out here with my buddy Jack over there.” He pointed back to Jack. “He’s really wound too tight, if you ask me. Needs to relax.”

            The woman leaned back, smiling skeptically. “That so?”

            “Yeah, well, you know, he just closed a giant case. He’s with National Enforcement.”

            “Really?” Jack smiled. She was on the hook.

            “Oh yeah, heads his own team, and I keep trying to tell him to take it easy. He’s not even thirty, and he’s already put away… well, you know, I shouldn’t be telling you all this.”

            “Why, is it a secret? Some kind of secret missions?” She was clearly trying to play skeptical, but Jack could see her resistance wearing down.

            “No, nothing secret, I just think you should hear it from him. He tells the stories much better than I do.”

            The blonde woman shrugged and followed Mark to the table. “Hey Jack, this is…” He turned to her. “Sorry, what was your name?”

            “Hannah.”

            “Jack, I think you should tell Hannah about the time you fought off all four of those cultists at once while diffusing a bomb.”

            Hannah laughed. “Bullshit.”

            Jack nodded, smiling. “Absolutely. I don’t know what kind of drivel Mark’s been telling you. It was five.” Hannah burst out laughing. Clearly she wasn’t here for the coffee. Mark quietly left the table.

            Jack heard the crash and was awake immediately. He reached under the mattress and pulled out his gun. His head was throbbing. The night was a bit blurry. For a split second, he thought he’d imagined the crash.

            He got up, dressed only in his boxers, the gun held low. He could hear footsteps and low voices.  He flipped the safety off and approached the door. As he reached the knob, it swung open with incredible force, slamming him into the wall.

            Someone grabbed his wrist and smashed it against the wall until he dropped the gun. For a moment, Jack was disoriented, but then he realized he was on the ground. He could feel a bruise forming on the side of his face where the door hit him.

            There were five strange men in his room. Four of them were dressed the same, all black clothing, hoods over their heads just far enough to conceal their faces without blocking their view. The fifth was a very tall man in his mid-to-late fifties. He wore thick spectacles and was mostly bald. While the younger men carried submachine guns, the spectacled man was unarmed.

            “You just made a big fucking mistake,” said Jack, his voice weak from the hangover. “Do you know who I am?”

            Spectacles smiled. “We know exactly who you are, Commander Milton. You’ll be coming with us now. He leaned down and picked up Milton’s gun.

            “Like hell I will.”

            Spectacles nodded, and then pointed the gun down and fired. Jack’s knee exploded in pain. “All right, let’s get him on his feet. One and three, you get him up.”

            Two of the hooded men gripped Jack by his shoulders and lifted. Even leaning on them, the pain in his leg was like lightning all the way up his left side. One of the other hoods – presumably two or four – pointed out the blonde woman in Jack’s bed.

            “What about her, sir?”

            Spectacles lifted the covers, exposing her, naked. Jack struggled to turn around. “She’s just a…” yelled Milton.

            “Indeed she is,” replied Spectacles, and shot her twice in the chest.

            Jack twisted and shook, but the men holding onto him were too strong. They dragged him into the hallway, out the door, and down to the street. There was a steam-cart parked outside, long and dark-grey. The street-lights threw everything into stark, black-and-white contrast.

            A door slid open on the side of the cart and another hooded man leaned out. “C’mon, c’mon, quick,” he called. Suddenly, everything went dark. They had put a black bag over his head. Jack was shoved, and he flew head-first into the cart.

            They drove for a few hours. His head was reeling. He tried to remember the name of the woman who had come home with him. Ennah? Harriet? Something like that. He found it easier to feel guilty over what had happened to her than to think about what was coming for him.

            When they dragged him out of the cart, they marched him up an incline. He was absolutely freezing, his wrists tied together with tight knots. There was snow on the ground, and it bit at his bare feet.

            And then they were inside. At the very least the wind couldn’t chill him anymore, but it was still quite cold. He had traded snow for frigid concrete, then later linoleum.

            He found himself experiencing the world through his feet. No one spoke, and it was too quiet to gauge anything from sound.

            The linoleum was an elevator. They were descending. He found himself thinking of Castlebrook. They stepped out, and now they were in a place that smelled somewhat damp, though at least it was a bit warmer.

            “Ok, here is good,” he heard muffled through the bag. They pulled it off and dropped him. He landed on the wounded knee, and then fell to his side, crying in pain. They were in a large room, dimly lit. Spectacles stood above him.

            “What do you want?” Jack managed to get out between winces of pain.

            “We know that June Greene escaped. You’re not going anywhere until you tell us where she went.”

Copyright Daniel Szolovits 2012