u/BlackDenisV313

The Black Communion, a horror thriller short in the vein of classics like Longlegs and Se7en.
SYNOPSIS: When a series of gruesome murders uncovers an elite secret society of wealthy sociopaths, a pair of grizzled FBI agents race across Metro Detroit to stop the cult before it can complete a satanic ritual decades in the making. As the body count rises and the conspiracy deepens, the chaos draws a retired vigilante out of hiding for one last hunt before it's too late.
Lead roles will be paid, plus IMDB credit and meals provided. Minor roles are unpaid but meals and IMDB credit provided. Shooting around Westland/Ypsi/Canton/Wayne around Sept/Oct. Please hmu here or at jyrdprod1992@gmail.com

The companion show(pun intended) to the smash hit ENT1701, Doctor Who reborn is available on Youtube, Spotify, and Applecasts! Come along, Ponds!

Hey there, I dropped my Black Female LGBTQ crime thriller(CHOICES) in here last month, and wanted to share an excerpt from its direct follow up for anyone that may have purchased in this sub!

Synopsis: After bringing down Detroit's most feared drug kingpin, Jason Hawkins believed the city finally had a chance to heal. Instead, his victory ignites a vicious turf war as the ambitious Reynolds family clashes with the remnants of Giovanni Davis's empire for control of Wayne County. By day, Jason designs the future of the American automobile industry. By night, he is Lethal—a vigilante who refuses to kill, even as the city around him embraces violence. With his former lover plotting in the shadows, rival crime families tearing Detroit apart, and a showtunes-obsessed serial killer turning murder into theater, Jason must confront the greatest challenge of his young career: saving a city that may already be beyond saving.

Please let me know either via dm or via email @ jyrdprod1992@gmail.com If you'd like to be an ARC reader for this! Thanks and enjoy!

Night descended upon the yellow-and-black-painted tire shop, casting an eerie glow on the surrounding area. A weary streetlight, positioned just next to the bus stop out front, struggled to maintain its flickering illumination. The streets lay mostly empty, except for a few cars speeding through blinking traffic lights, en route to joining the flow of I-94 traffic. 

Two rusted, white Chevy Express box vans pulled into the otherwise vacant parking lot, their brakes squealing as they came to a halt. Mia, her long black hair cascading down her back to her waist beneath a black tank top, peered through the glass on the shutter door of the first bay. 

"They're here. Get ready to grab this stuff!" she shouted in flawless Spanish, a language she hadn't used much growing up as the daughter of a Muslim nurse in Dearborn. 

After a few months of making drops in southwest Detroit for Lexi's crew, she had become nearly fluent. It was no surprise, though, as working for Lexi meant being bilingual or risking the loss of revenue. Several of the tire technicians, who also moonlighted for Lexi, rushed to the first two bay doors and began hoisting them upward. The vans eased into their respective bays, and the drivers stepped out.

 "You all were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago," Mia scolded one of them as her co-workers started unloading the vehicles.

"Relax and check out that traffic before we bounce. It was backed up on I-94 all the way to Ecorse," the driver replied defensively. “You know these fools can’t drive. That’s why our insurance is so high in the city.”

Mia rolled her eyes at the feeble excuse. One of the shop's workers hurried over to Mia with a bundle of cash, which the driver didn't bother to count before passing it to his partner. "Stay quiet on the streets tonight. State troopers have been crawling around like damn cockroaches," the second driver warned Mia. "They running plates on any car they even think looks suspicious."

"You know we know how to move outta here. We'll be good," the driver told her with boldness. 

She nodded toward the worker who had handed her the cash and indicated that he should continue unloading. The drivers climbed back into their vans once they were empty, the roar of their engines filling the garage. Mia had the techs who weren't stowing the bricks of fentanyl raise the bay doors once more. To her and everyone else's astonishment, a fleet of brand-new 2023 Ford F-150s sat in the middle of the parking lot. A group of stern-faced men in their late thirties emerged from the vehicles, each one with a meaner scowl than the last.

Mia noted their custom-fitted designer suits and recognized them as Sicilian, a fact that sent her heart sinking into her stomach for the first time on this job. Her hand twitched toward the pistol she had concealed in the back of her jeans. Thankfully, for the time being, her rationality overruled her fear. She chose diplomacy over confrontation.

"Can I help you gentlemen with something? As you can see, we're closed, and this is private property," Mia attempted a warm smile, knowing full well that they were unlikely to respond to it. Men in Gucci loafers on this side of town had to have a very specific agenda at this hour.

"Why don't you do us a favor?" one of the men in a brown-collared shirt and matching slacks spoke up, taking a few confident strides towards her. He seemed far too pleased with himself. "Bring out all the merchandise they just dropped off, and tell your boss she won't be getting any more shipments here."

Mia chuckled, which aggravated the slovenly Sicilian thug. “Or… what exactly? Because you know all that shit you just suggested ain’t an option.” 

"Alexis running that garbage through these streets is over. Starting tonight," he asserted, his voice growing firmer.  As he spoke, the rest of the men gathered around, each producing their preferred firearm. Before they could press her any further, the sound of an engine roared like a hunting lion from a mere block and a half away. Mia recognized the distinctive noise of the twin-turbocharged V8 engine, a sound well known throughout the city.

Mia watched warily as the truck's owners also realized what, or more specifically, who was approaching, their faces draining of color. A black SUV with windows tinted to an impenetrable charcoal hue barreled around the corner, hurtling onto the same block. Mia's relief was palpable as Lethal's custom-designed vehicle accelerated toward the parking lot. 

Turning to the armed men who were backing her, she urgently gave them instructions, "Get everything you can out of here! Call Lexi and let her know we've got an emergency! He’s here!"

Inside the limited-edition Sails Motors mountain range SUV, Lethal slammed on the brakes right in front of the stunned mobsters. Without hesitation, they opened fire on the vehicle. With its heavy-duty snow tires, it resembled a cross between a classic Ford Bronco and a deluxe Tahoe. Lethal watched the monitors on his dashboard closely, scanning the interior of the building as bullets harmlessly ricocheted off the windshield.

"Sean, give them a simple warning. No need for things to escalate any further," he ordered, seemingly addressing no one as his helmet's voice modulator activated while he spoke.

Six black spheres shot out of the SUV's grill, rolling harmlessly to a stop on the concrete in front of the gunmen. Once they settled, each sphere emitted a powerful sonic pulse, propelling the gunmen through the air and landing them with bone-crunching thuds across the parking lot. The hefty thug who had threatened Mia gawked in astonishment, his eyes darting from side to side as bodies collided with the windshields of their trucks or crashed onto the street.
"I've got a handful of guys inside the shop, all armed, and a Kia taking off out front," Sean Price's composed voice came through the truck's speakers. A heat signature scan of the tire shop appeared on the digital dashboard. "Are you cleaning up here or following her?"

Lethal pressed a button on the back of his steering wheel, causing the armrest to slide back and reveal a handgun with a barrel resembling a miniature RPG. He retrieved the weapon, loaded it with a handful of gel capsules, and stepped out of the SUV. "Mia's going to lead us straight to wherever Lexi is tonight, but these guys are some of Val Reynold's personal bodyguards." He answered.

His car door slammed shut without Lethal touching it. He immediately locked his gaze beneath his redesigned helmet onto the remaining thug scrambling into his truck. Aiming with his miniature cannon-shaped pistol, he fired at each of the truck's front tires just as it attempted to speed away. A thick, tar-like goo substance hit the tires, adhering them to the pavement. The sudden halt sent the truck somersaulting forward and crashing upside down in the middle of the street. Lethal strode over to the overturned vehicle and dragged the barely conscious thug through the shattered driver's side window, hauling him across the broken glass.

Lethal didn't waste any time assessing the identity of the thug sprawled on the street; his advanced facial recognition software had tagged him via his helmet’s HUD. His focus shifted abruptly as a dark green Kia Acura skidded around the corner, bald tires screeching from the aggressive driving. Mia's shocked, wide-eyed gaze met the cold, black visor of Lethal for just a moment before she sped down the street toward the freeway. 

"Get a tracking drone on her while I wrap this up," Lethal instructed Sean, his trusted partner who helped him with various tasks from their hub on East Warren in Harmony City.

"Perfect time to finally test this out, so I'm on it," Sean replied. A square, block-shaped drone emerged from the top of Lethal's SUV and swiftly flew off in the direction Mia had driven. Lethal turned his attention back to the tire shop and began making his way there. "Whatever you're planning, don't linger," Sean warned with urgency. "DPD is ten minutes away, maybe less."

"Noted. I just need to confirm a few working theories," Lethal reassured his friend as he moved through the tire shop, one of the businesses the Hernandez sisters owned through their parents' names to launder their money.

He wasn't overly concerned about Lexi herself but more about the potential chaos her involvement could create. As he walked past grease spots and rows of used tires of various sizes, his HUD scanned for any trace of the sought-after drugs.

Lethal mused that there was no way they could have removed the drop unnoticed while he dealt with the thugs out back. Lexi must have had a plan in place in case any of her drop spots were compromised. However, he didn't have much time to figure out the specifics.

Before he could investigate further, one of the vans roared to life, its high beams illuminating Lethal as if in a spotlight. Tires screeched as one of the drop-off drivers floored the gas pedal, driven by anger and a desire for vengeance. Lethal barely dove aside in time to avoid being crushed against a retaining wall, but the van smashed into it, shaking the building and demolishing its front end. 

Lethal scrambled to his feet as the second van burst through the shutters on the other side, making a hasty escape. The driver of the first van, who had tried to ram Lethal, stumbled out, clearly concussed from the violent collision. As he reached for his Desert Eagle, he felt a gloved hand grip the back of his neck. Lethal flung him forcefully against the side of the van like a rag doll, causing him to collapse onto the garage floor, writhing in pain. A frustrated Lethal grabbed the driver by the collar of his Charlotte Hornets starter jacket. Two gunshots rang out, the first shattering the backseat window. The second shot struck Lethal's helmet, deflecting off the side and only slightly rocking his head due to the impact.  

He released the driver and turned his attention to the shooter, a nervous young man clad in the tire shop's coveralls. He tried to steady his trembling hands as Lethal approached, but he couldn't summon the courage to fire another shot. In a moment of surrender, he dropped his gun and bolted toward the front door, sprinting in a high-step fashion. Lethal's lips curled into a sly grin as he covertly retrieved a sleek, ruler-shaped stick from a holster on his waist. Crafted with precision from experimental steel, this unique weapon harbored a concealed trigger at its center. With a deft click, he activated it, then launched the stick overhand like a fastball toward the retreating gunsel with a flick of his wrist. 

In a mesmerizing display, the stick unfurled in midair, transforming into an elongated Bo staff that struck the back of the young man's head with a resounding thud. With a painful thud, the man sprawled face-first onto the cold floor. He groggily pushed himself up, crimson droplets seeping from a freshly bitten lip. Before he could regain his composure, Lethal was upon him, moving with a speed that defied his opponent's expectations.

"I know Lexi has other drop points," Lethal mused aloud, his voice tinged with a cold, calculated edge, as he forcefully pressed the already concussed man's face into the unforgiving plastic keys of the cash register. Blood mingled with the register's digital display, creating a gruesome tableau. "If I have to ask again," he continued, his words dripping with menace, "your skull will be shattered, leaving nothing but shards on this cheap-ass carpet."

The wailing sirens grew nearer, setting Lethal's nerves on edge. He muttered a string of expletives under his breath as he released his vice-like grip, allowing the young man to slump back onto the blue frieze carpet. The injured thug scrambled away in a frenzy, desperately attempting to put distance between himself and Lethal, who now seemed preoccupied.
On his forearm gauntlet, a digital touchscreen pad let Lethal control his SUV, which glided smoothly to a halt out front. As the terrified thug watched the car vanish from view once Lethal got inside, the cacophony of red and blue police lights filled the shop. Four 2022 Dodge police cruisers screeched into the parking lot of the chaotic scene. Lethal activated his car's autopilot as it sped down I-94, following the trail left by the drone Sean sent ahead.

In the heart of Harmony City's east side, nestled just off Warren Road, a seemingly derelict auto body clinic concealed a state-of-the-art mechanic shop and private garage. Inside, an array of SUV body shells, reminiscent of Lethal's current vehicle, lay at various stages of assembly. Stacks of reinforced tires, made from an exotic composite rubber, loomed beside towering hoists. Sean, his skin caked in grime and oil, donned gray mechanic's gloves now almost indistinguishable from the blackened engine parts he was meticulously working on. 

His hands paused momentarily as he answered Lethal's question over his earbuds, his gaze locked on the monitors displaying the drone's proximity. "I'm running an infrared scan from the drone. Lexi doesn't make a move without her security detail."

Sean wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, leaving streaks of dirt behind. He stepped away from the engine, exhaling with a mixture of concern and understanding. He knew Jason well enough to anticipate his recklessness, much as Jason had disregarded Sean's advice on his ambitious engine project. Their shared stubbornness had forged a deep friendship and led them into this audacious undertaking. Watching the radar blip slowing to a crawl, Sean couldn't help but worry about his friend's safety, hoping that Jason would return unscathed, as he always did.

Lethal's SUV blended seamlessly into the shadows as he staked out near a street corner, his unwavering focus fixed on a nearby Chevy dealership that appeared closed for the night. The drone, which had scouted ahead, returned and neatly docked itself back into its housing on the SUV's roof. The dashboard lit up with a series of photographs captured by the drone. Lethal's eyes narrowed as he spotted the license plate of the vehicle that had eluded him during the botched robbery, and his fists clenched in determination.

Mia paced restlessly across the worn, gray carpet within the dealership manager's office. Her rapid-fire Spanish spilled forth as she lamented their compromised schedule, her anxiety palpable. The young woman behind the manager's desk, her honey-blonde hair and fair skin a striking contrast to her Puerto Rican heritage, listened with only a hint of interest, her disdain thinly veiled.

"I barely escaped DPD and that weirdo," Mia continued, her desperation mounting. "I had one of our drivers tail me once he could slip out," she admitted. 

Lexi's initial disinterest gave way to a flash of anger, leaving Mia to wonder what she had said to trigger it.

"Why the fuck did you let him follow you here?" Lexi's voice dripped with exasperation as she rose from her seat, her mind racing to solve this new dilemma. "Maybe, just maybe," Lexi muttered aloud, more to herself than to Mia, as she contemplated their predicament, "He didn't tail you. Maybe he's squeezing every one he can at the tire shop…"

"That's what I figured he would do," Mia said, her voice tinged with remorse. "I didn't think—"

"That's right, you didn't think!" Lexi snapped back in Spanish, her own anxiety bubbling to the surface.

She fought to keep her emotions in check. She knew that panicking wouldn't help her assess the situation. Glancing up at the flat-screen mounted in the corner, she monitored the camera feeds from eight different areas around the automotive dealership. The box van that had followed Mia from the previous botched drop-off point had pulled towards the dealership’s service area. Several of Lexi's armed guards patrolling the premises gestured to the driver, directing them toward the main building.

Lexi heaved a sigh and rubbed her temples, her thoughts racing. "Before anything else goes wrong, we need to get this merchandise out of here. If those bastards were bold enough to pull up at the tire shop, they won't stop coming."

Mia nodded in understanding, absorbing Lexi's instructions. "What about that other lunatic?" Mia inquired, her concern still lingering.

Lexi dismissed the question with a wave of her hand, attempting to reassure herself as much as anyone else. "From what I know of that guy, he's not usually reckless enough to try coming in here."

Downstairs, one of Lexi's security guards patrolled the showroom, filled with gleaming new Blazers and Equinoxes in every imaginable color. Lexi had a reputation for hiring former Wayne State athletes as her muscle, a fact that Lethal kept in mind as he stealthily entered the building through a salesman's office window. He moved silently behind a portly guard as they both walked along one of the platforms, where a classic Malibu was on display. Lethal's eyes darted to the nearest security camera and then to the shadows cast by the moonlight filtering into the showroom.

The guard, visibly bored by the uneventful night, glanced up and down the corridor leading to the staff bathrooms. He reached for the two-way radio clipped to his belt, intending to check in as per his hourly routine. But before he could speak, Lethal swiftly straightened up and delivered a precise, closed-fist strike to the guard's temple.

The guard crumpled, and Lethal caught him in a chokehold, pressing his forearm against the guard's windpipe. Small electrical discharges emanated from the knuckles of Lethal's gloves, rendering the guard unconscious within seconds. Lethal then discreetly disposed of him in the ladies' bathroom, remaining wary of the ubiquitous surveillance cameras as he continued to navigate the dealership's maze-like layout.

Lexi's pacing continued unabated, her anxiety palpable in the dimly lit office. On the other side of the manager's desk, Mia observed her boss with a mixture of concern and apprehension. After a moment of silence punctuated only by Lexi's restless footsteps, Mia received more orders. "Get downstairs. Throw the driver a little something extra for the trouble he went through tonight," Lexi commanded. Mia sprang from her seat, her eagerness to follow instructions evident, and hastily exited the office.

Finally, Lexi halted her relentless pacing, her hands resting on her hips as if she were a weary NBA star during a grueling game. She knew she needed to make a call but hesitated, not wanting to disturb the person she had in mind at such a late hour. That person was Tommy Vargas, the man who had entrusted her with overseeing a portion of what remained of the operation his cousin had originally orchestrated. Lexi's main concern, however, was the individuals dispatched by the Reynolds family to lay claim to their product. Valerie, the eldest daughter of Dominic Reynolds Sr., had been growing increasingly aggressive in her efforts to encroach upon territory once controlled by Giovanni Davis.

Lexi, the last of two remaining lieutenants under Tommy's employ, was uncertain about the source of the cocaine she helped move. The only certainty in her recent dealings was that it had enabled her to pay off her mother's mortgage and secure her nieces and nephews’ education in Bloomfield Hills. Lexi cared little for her own fate; she had already ensured her people were set for life.

Returning to her desk, she found her momentary respite did little to ease her nerves. Her attention was drawn back to one particular video feed: Camera six, which provided a view of the main floor showroom, displayed an unsettling stillness. Lexi glanced at her Richard Mille watch, a gift from Tommy upon her appointment, which read five minutes past the hour. Whoever had been stationed in the showroom should have checked in by now.

Contemplating whether to contact Lamont, her head of security during her tenure at the dealership, Lexi eventually succumbed to her growing unease. She swiftly rifled through the bottom drawer of her father's desk, where he often sat, until she found the radio she used to communicate with her team.

"Lamont, what's your status?"

"I’m in the garage, loading this shit into the trucks for upstate. What’s up?" Lamont's response was swift and assertive.

Lexi raised an eyebrow, her gaze still fixed on camera six with an almost bewildered intensity. "Did you guys check in yet?" Her words hung in the air, met with a disconcerting silence punctuated only by static before she received another reply.

"Yeah, just a few minutes ago. Everything straight?" Lamont's question carried an undertone of confusion, mirroring Lexi's growing unease.

Lexi's hesitation lasted but a moment before her instincts overcame her. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. One man, the shadowy figure responsible for Tommy's recent elusiveness, played a significant role in her unease. Swiftly, she exited the office, following in Mia's footsteps. "Check out the showroom and lock down the garage. Nobody moves out of that place until I get down there," Lexi ordered with a sense of urgency.

"Understood," Lamont replied dutifully as he pivoted into action. Lexi descended the stairs, heading toward the salesperson's area with a determined stride.

With a sharp nod, Lamont signaled to a couple of his men overseeing the wrap-up of the drop-off. The shaggy-haired driver, his curly brown bangs obscuring his eyes beneath a beanie, climbed back into his van, watching as the men salvaged the remaining boxes from the earlier incident. He rhythmically tapped his pack of Newports against his palm, his nerves getting the better of him.

Lamont, flanked by two of his subordinates—stout former offensive linemen—stepped forward. 

"Sweep the showroom," he instructed them after casting a glance around the service garage. "Duane hasn't checked in, and I want answers before Lexi gets down here." With an air of urgency, the two men hustled toward the showroom, their apprehensions mirroring Lamont's.

Mia passed by them, clutching an envelope she had grabbed from the receptionist's desk on her way over. She approached Lamont, who appeared visibly on edge as he eyed the envelope's thickness. 

"Where's Lex?" he inquired while Mia stood before the driver's window, envelope in hand.

"On her way," Mia replied over her shoulder before sliding the envelope toward the driver. He tugged on his Newport, his eyes widening with surprise as he counted the money inside.

"What's this for?" The driver asked, his wariness tempered by gratitude.

"The trouble," Mia stated plainly before heading back over to Lamont.

Meanwhile, the pair of ex-All MAC team members dispatched by Lamont continued their journey, passing by the staff break room in search of their fellow guard. Suddenly, one of them froze in their tracks upon hearing a loud beep. He instinctively pressed a hand to his partner's chest, signaling him to halt as well. Both men looked down in confusion as a brilliant blue beam of light passed through their knees. There were no tripwire security systems they were aware of in the dealership. Still, their recent employment with Lexi hadn't given them the chance to familiarize themselves with every facet of its security protocols. The unexpected development left them perplexed and on edge.

Before the baffled guards could fully comprehend the issue, a small plastic cartridge, filled with an eerie, mucus-like substance, shot out from the source of the blue beam. It clipped onto one of the men's shirts like a makeshift tie, causing him to stumble backward in shock.

"What the fuck is this thing—"

"I don't know! Yank it off!" His partner hastily suggested, and they both attempted to remove the strange attachment. However, the moment they tampered with it, a noxious yellowish-green gas burst forth from the cartridge, rapidly enveloping them. The effects of the gas took hold within seconds, forcing the pair of stout gunsels to retch and cough violently, their eyes watering. Convinced that the gas had rendered them incapacitated, Lethal emerged from his hiding spot and continued his approach toward the service garage. The sounds of the two guards collapsing echoed with a resounding crash, their coughing and dry heaving serving as a testament to the gas's potency.

As Lexi made her way through the garage, the atmosphere grew tense. She arrived just in time to witness the bay doors being raised to allow the handsomely paid driver to depart. Lamont attempted to provide an update, but Lexi's curt glare silenced him.

"Let me fucking guess. Whoever's in the showroom didn't check in?" Lexi's sharp words hung in the air, and Lamont hesitated, fearful of confirming her suspicions.  The van pulled out of the garage just as Lexi's nightmarish premonition materialized.

A trio of disc-shaped plastic objects suddenly flew out of nowhere and struck the van's rear-right tire with explosive force, tearing it apart on impact. The driver desperately tried to regain control, but the blown tire sent the van careening into a support beam with a deafening crash. Lexi's furious reprimand of Lamont came to an abrupt end as her worst-case scenario was realized before her eyes.

Lamont reacted instinctively, pushing Lexi out of harm's way as he fired his nine-millimeter TS2 handgun in the direction from which the explosive discs had come. Lexi swiveled her attention around, her eyes locking onto the vigilante who had relentlessly pursued Tommy. He deftly evaded Lamont's bullets with an almost surreal grace, moving like a nimble dancer. In a display of astonishing dexterity, he disarmed Lamont with his bare hands, leaving Lexi to watch in awe and trepidation as the enigmatic vigilante confronted her head of security.

Lethal acted with swift and calculated precision, striking Lamont in the throat and wrenching his left wrist into a painful hammerlock, forcing him to release his gun. With Lamont now at his mercy, Lethal turned his attention to Lexi, his voice distorted through the modulator in his helmet.

"I didn't want to come in here and do this. Not tonight, at least. But I need to know where he is," Lethal stated, his gaze locked onto Lexi. "You give me a location on Tommy, and I'll give you twenty minutes to clear this place out before DPD shows up."

Lexi didn't hesitate to respond, her bravado fully on display as she threw down a challenge. "The first person to put a bullet in this motherfucker," she declared, snatching a stack of cash in her hand as more guards entered the garage, all of them aiming their firearms at Lethal and, by default, Lamont, "I've got five grand for you right now, on top of your nightly take-home." She turned, brandishing the money toward her employees, captivating their attention, including Mia's. Lexi then turned back to Lethal, a wicked grin forming on her lips. Lethal assessed the situation, watching as some of the guards began to inch closer, their weapons raised.

"Riot suppression protocol. Engage," Lethal whispered under his breath before flinging Lamont into the crashed van. 

At the same moment, the van's driver leaped out and fled across the dealership lot. Lethal's SUV, passing him by, sped directly toward the building, firing shells into the garage. The powerful blasts of air from the compressed shells sent tools, tires, equipment, tables, and freshly packed bricks of fent hurtling through the chaotic space. Some of the gunmen were buffeted by the shockwaves and sent crashing to the ground in disarray.

Lethal sprinted toward his SUV, bullets whizzing in his direction as the remaining guards desperately tried to put him down before he could escape. He dove into the vehicle, and the door sealed shut behind him. The SUV reversed at breakneck speed with bullets ricocheting off it. Lethal made a hard right turn and sped toward I-275, seething with frustration at having obtained no answers from Lexi's operation.

Inside the car, Sean materialized on the console dash, shaking his head at the harrowing ordeal his partner had just survived.

"I don't know what the fuck you were thinking running in there," Sean stated flatly.

Lethal removed his helmet, revealing his true identity as Jason Hawkins. He ran his fingers through his curly, drop-temple fade, his smooth, cocoa butter-moisturized skin unmarred by the dangerous encounter. "I figured I might get lucky," Jason replied, clearly annoyed by the outcome at the dealership. "Nobody's caught a glimpse of Tommy since that shooting outside the Crawford Lounge. With the way he's been clinging to their territory, I thought maybe he'd be desperate enough to lay low at one of their drop spots."

Sean completed his work on the truck he was standing over and set his tools aside, still bemused by Jason's daring approach. "I've got a couple of drones keeping an eye on the cops wrapping things up at the tire shop," he informed Jason, shaking his head. "It looks like your favorite detective is interrogating everyone about you before they get taken in for booking."

Jason clicked his tongue in annoyance but dismissed the thought of Detective Miller. "I'm not going to concern myself with her. I'm too busy doing her job," he retorted. His cell phone began to vibrate quietly in the cupholder, and when he saw the caller ID, his face lit up.

Sean chuckled, realizing what could have caused his friend’s sudden shift in temperament. 
"Marie calling you, huh? I'll head out anyway; I need to pick up my kids from my mom's. I'll have the docking bay ready for you to pull in. I've got some work to do at the plant tomorrow."

Jason inserted one of his AirPods and nodded, ending the call with the dashboard display before answering the next one. "I didn't expect to hear from you for another hour. The show must be over early, huh?"

On Woodward Avenue in downtown Detroit, just outside a martini pub, stood Marie Lennox. She was clad in a head-to-toe Gucci outfit, complete with boots, and wrapped in the gray mink coat Jason had gifted her for her birthday the previous winter. She held her phone to her ear, shivering slightly as she spoke. 

"Yeah, it wrapped up about fifteen minutes ago. We're having drinks down the street," she replied, glancing back inside the bustling venue at the high table where her roommate and friends were seated, enjoying their cocktails. "Think you can pick me up from around here?"

Jason Hawkins AKA LETHAL

The sun was already bearing down hard on the streets of Timbuktu as the morning got underway. Ezekiel and Janay moved through the block, passing some farmers carrying loads of grain on their rusty flatbeds. Janay had begun to wonder if Ezekiel’s idea to walk from the hotel to their posting was the absolute worst idea he had ever conjured up. The city of Timbuktu was a far cry from Dakar in every sense of the expression.

The streets were less busy, with most people traveling on foot or in animal-drawn carts. Every once in a while, a motorcycle carrying two passengers or a Jeep full of turban-wearing men sped by them. Ever since they had landed in Bamako, it felt almost as if she had entered another world entirely. She felt a twinge of guilt, too scared to look too long in one direction or another as they continued on their path. Ezekiel looked over at her every so often. He was slightly amused by the gamut of emotions swirling through his companion as she took in the sights and sounds of early morning Timbuktu. 

“Not exactly the kind of vacation you were expecting, huh?” He asked while leaning closer to her.

She shook her head, partially in disbelief at what she was getting to be in the midst of. The hotel receptionist had told Janay that she was lucky to be in the city as an American. Janay hadn’t quite understood why that was, and they were already heading out of the building before she could get a chance to ask. But fortunately, or maybe it was unfortunately–she wasn’t quite sure which yet—she was getting the opportunity to see exactly what the young woman had been referring to firsthand. Dust kicked up around them as city traffic picked up another speed or two.

They passed a small pocket of what looked to be soldiers or some sort of police taking a smoke break. The pair was only another block away from their destination when Janay finally got around to asking more of the questions burning on her mind. 

“The place is pretty scarce when it comes to police presence.” She pointed out as a way of putting the topic out in the open.

“Scarce is putting it mildly. Or are you trying to keep yourself comfortable with your choice of phrasing?” Janay shot an annoyed glance at him before he continued on. “The police and army are mostly volunteers, and they primarily have to keep the city’s checkpoints manned. That leaves very few boots on the ground in the streets, unfortunately. Notice how people keep hustling. Nobody lingers too long, even at some of the shopping stalls.”

“Was it always like this? This sense of…anxiety in the air?” Janay asked. 

She couldn’t find a better way to describe the palpable tension she felt walking the streets of Timbuktu. She never got an answer to her question, either. Maybe it was the events that transpired before they arrived there that colored her emotions. She certainly wasn’t emotionally unaware enough to realize that could be the case. But something in her gut, the same thing that made her a damn good nurse when it mattered most, told her that she should trust her instincts, as she often tended to.

They approached the small, mostly clay-constructed two-story hospital where they would be working for the next few months. Janay was immediately surprised to see them approached by a pair of armed soldiers manning a ramshackle security gate blocking the path to the facility. Ezekiel stepped forward, raising both his hands to shoulder height in case either of them was particularly jumpy. Tyree warned him that their soldiers weren’t exactly well-trained and, given some of the situations they dealt with, could be trigger-happy.

“What is your business here, American?” The more dog-faced of the pair demanded to know.

“My name is Doctor Ezekiel Drake. This is my colleague, registered nurse Janay Lincoln. We’ve been assigned by Doctors Beyond Borders to have a residency at this facility. Dr. Adeji should have left a word.”

The soldier turned his wary eye back towards the shack, where another soldier quickly checked a clipboard pinned to the wall next to him. He gave the dog-faced guard a firm nod, and the soldiers in front of Ezekiel and Janay relaxed their posture, but only slightly. “I apologize, doctor. Please head inside; we will radio ahead and let them know you have arrived.”

Ezekiel gave them a polite nod before he and Janay passed through the barbed-wire gate the soldiers were guarding. They were greeted at the front desk by a young man and a young woman, both in green-and-white scrubs, with a far warmer reception. Ezekiel pulled out a copy of his ID and passport, and Janay did the same, setting them on the counter between them and the receptionists. 

“Welcome, Dr. Drake, Nurse Lincoln; we have been waiting with anticipation for your arrival!” The young man reached across the desk to shake both of their hands. The young lady passed them both a clipboard with a short form attached and a pen at the top once her coworker was done being friendly.

“I hope your travels were kind to you.” She told them both as they scribbled through the form. Janay rolled her eyes while Ezekiel merely chuckled, enjoying a private joke.

“More or less, I suppose.” He said. He passed the clipboard back before Janay reached past him to do the same.

“Emphasis on the less. Which is why I am sure Dr. Drake here would agree with me that we are eager to get to work.” Janay told them.

“We won’t keep you waiting any further.” They turned away from the desk at the sound of the gentle voice responding to Janay’s statement. A beautiful, ebony-skinned woman in navy-blue scrubs with a stethoscope around her neck approached them with a smile as kind as her voice.

“Ms. Light called us and told me you faced a bit of trouble in Dakar. I hope that you both are okay.” Dr. Adeji told them both while shaking each of their hands.

“Nothing we can complain about. Or that we’d care to, at least.” Ezekiel clapped his hands together excitedly. “So, where and how can we be of service now that you've got our extra bodies?”

“You two really like to dive right in, don’t you?” Dr. Adeji looked between them both.

“It’s how we do things back home, doc. No sense doing anything with your foot halfway on the gas pedal.” Janay replied. Dr. Adeji smiled as she turned to Ezekiel while leading them down the hallway.

“I see why you brought her along.” Dr. Adeji told her new colleague.

“Actually, that bit of flying by the seat of my scrubs was all my own doing,” Janay admitted. Dr. Adeji turned back to her with intrigue in her soft, brown eyes. “As to why this decision was made, I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“Our locker rooms are just up ahead on your left. Once you’re changed, meet Aliah at the nurses' station over there. You can’t miss her, I swear to you.”

Janay gave Dr. Adeji a friendly salute as she headed to the women's locker room. “Aye yi, captain.”

“I’ll catch up with you later, Janay.” She replied with a lazy wave while he continued down the hallway with Dr. Adeji. “What do you think they’ll have her get started on?”

Dr. Adeji sighed, showing the weariness behind her friendly exterior from the toll her job took. “Our lobby is in shambles at the moment. With her background, I’m sure our team will get the boost it needs. I’m optimistic we can have a few empty chairs out there by lunchtime.” Dr. Adeji paused, looking around the crowded ER with practically every room or bed filled at the moment. “That is, if I even get to have lunch…”

Ezekiel saw the slight melancholy cracking through on Dr. Adeji’s face and gave her a friendly, assuring pat on the shoulder. “Let me get into some scrubs, and we’ll get down to business. You, Janay, and I are going to your favorite place in town for lunch. My treat.”

Dr. Adeji found a smile spreading across her face again thanks to Ezekiel’s infectious enthusiasm. “I’ve got a gunshot victim in number eight over there that could use your skills.”

Ezekiel smiled and pointed in the direction he assumed the male locker rooms were. She nodded to confirm his guess. “Let whoever you got over there handling it now give me just five minutes.”

A handful of miles away from the hospital, a small boy waited patiently between a pair of grilled fish stalls alongside the main road. He spotted the hatchback truck he was waiting for, which was extremely out of place. But the driver’s intention was to stand out in the first place. The truck pulled to the side of the road in front of the fish salesmen. The sight of the teenage armed men in the front seat and in the truck bed drew looks of fear from the men and the small crowds that had gathered at their stall. After receiving the go-ahead from the driver, Reo, a heavier-set but intimidating young man, placed his rifle on the floor of the truck bed and hopped out. He walked over to the eager little boy who was dressed in clothes that were as dusty as the streets.

Reo could tell from the way the boy smelled that he’d been out in the heat for some time. “What you see today?”

“Only three guards at the checkpoint near the square. About five or six by the solar panel station.” The boy said with breathless excitement. Reo dug in his pockets for the boy’s fee. He made sure to give him something extra for his diligence.

The boy stared at the bundle of cash with wide-eyed glee, but his smile went away when he saw Reo wave his hand with a short gesture. “Eh, eh, what are you doing? Put that away, yeah?” The boy nodded and stuffed the money in his pocket. “Any army patrols roll through here?” The boy shook his head no. “Good.” Reo handed him another couple of bills, bringing the smile shooting back across the boy’s face like a star in the night sky. “Never be flashy with your money, you understand?  What you have is nobody else’s business.” The boy stuffed the rest of his money away while watching Reo climb back into the truck bed.

The hatchback pulled away and scuttled down the street. The driver glanced back through the window to the truck bed and yelled over at Reo. “What da boy say, eh?”

Reo glowered at the back of the driver’s head. He didn’t like to be rushed. “Things should be light. They picked the wrong day to be thinned out.” 

The driver nodded in response to Reo’s information without glancing back at him again. Reo rolled his eyes at the back of the driver’s head. He knew that his brother in arms was only jealous that he’d been placed in command of the operation they were sent to carry out. His envy was nothing but a slight annoyance to Reo at best. He’d been given the privilege of command due to his sterling work ethic. He didn’t care in the slightest about what the rest of his fellow soldiers thought about how he’d gotten there.

“We’ve got another hour till it's showtime. Let’s make sure everyone else is in position and go over the details once more.” Reo suggested. The truck slowed to a plodding pace as they got stuck in the midst of a flurry of people on foot, bikes, and a few farmers in older hatchbacks.

“We know our roles, Reo. What is the point of drilling us through the paces again?” A man to Reo’s left with a nasty, still-healing scar on his cheek asked next.

Reo looked him directly in the eyes, hoping to convey how serious he was with his response. “We ain’t never had a shot like this, and it's one we cannot afford to miss. Do you want to go back to him and explain why we are empty-handed? Because I don’t plan to.” He looked around the truck bed and into the front cab, waiting for one of them to disagree or argue further. When they sat in subdued silence for a long moment, he decided to continue. “That is what I thought. Now get everyone on the radios, and let’s run through it one more time.” Reo growled to the rest of them. The scar-faced soldier passed a bulky two-way radio to Reo, then grabbed a couple more and handed them around.

Inside the ER, Dr. Drake finished walking a young resident through the care of a nasty cut on an elderly woman’s leg. He slid back with the rolling stool and let the young man working with him take point from there. The young man nervously stepped forward as Ezekiel hopped off the stool and passed it to the rookie doctor so he could get comfortable and up close. “Alright, now, what do you see?”

The young doctor, whose badge with his smiling, hopeful photo read ‘Marin’, carefully examined the wound with a slender flashlight. His eyes widened with surprise when he spotted what Ezekiel was hoping he would. Behind Marin, Ezekiel nodded but didn’t speak. He wanted to allow him to work through the rest of the patient’s care as much on his own steam as was safely possible. “I think I still see some debris or foreign material…” Marin finally spoke up.

“Good, which means we need to double, even triple down on sterilizing the wound. Don’t be afraid to get in there and get that debris out yourself. In a place like this, where there’s always a constant mix of heat, sand, dirt, and sweat, we want to be as thorough as possible when it comes to cleaning the area.” Marin nodded, then turned back to the patient and got to work. Ezekiel looked up when he heard a knock on the door and motioned for Janay to join them when he saw her through the window. “Better safe than sorry is a motto that has gotten me through a lot of situations just like this. Trust me.” He looked up at Janay just as she entered and stood on the other side of the patient.

“Dr. Adeji was just wondering how much longer you would be. She wanted to see if you had a minute to catch up since we’ve all been running around like our feet are on fire all day.” Janay asked him after giving the patient a polite wave and smile, not wanting to be rude.

“It looks like Marin has gotten this wound pretty clean; now all I need is his assessment on the best way to close this up so I can get you back home where I’m sure you're missed.” Ezekiel gave the elderly patient a friendly smile as he heard her giggle at his flattery.

Janay leaned over the bed a tad, taking a peek at the injury. She straightened back up and looked at Marin, raising her eyebrows. “Your first suture, huh? Yeah, I remember when he walked me through my first one like that. Don’t worry, he won’t let you screw up. Just be confident; rely on what you learned in school.” Marin nodded, and Janay gave him an encouraging smile before looking back up at Dr. Drake. “We’ll be at the nurses' station waiting for you.” 

Janay walked out of the room, and Ezekiel turned his attention back to assisting Marin. He hoped that Janay’s small pep talk had given him some confidence, but from the look on the young doctor’s face, it appeared he still needed some prodding. “Her skin is fragile based on the bruising, so I shouldn’t make the sutures too tight.”

He leaned over towards the tray next to him and grabbed what he needed to begin stitching the wound closed. Ezekiel nodded behind him, a smile forming on his face. “Don’t choke the tissue, and it should be fine. And you want to make sure you leave room for the wound to drain. Our number one fear is and always should be in these cases is–”

“Infection!” Marin finished his thought, bringing a broad smile to Ezekiel’s face.

“Exactly, Marin.” Ezekiel looked up at the patient. “Ma’am, you couldn’t be in better hands with this young man.”

Ezekiel exited the room a couple of moments later. He had more than enough faith in Marin to go over aftercare with the patient. He looked around the busy room and realized it was far later than he’d realized when Janay had interrupted him. He spotted Dr. Adeji and Janay chatting with a couple of nurses, including the charge nurse, Aliah. Most of the nurses, along with a majority of Dr. Adeji’s staff working the day shift, seemed to be in much better spirits than when Ezekiel and Janay had arrived. While walking over towards the nurses' station, he decided to be bold and take a glimpse at how the waiting room was looking now that they were just about halfway through the day. Much to his immediate surprise and wonder, it looked almost half as full as it did that morning. There were more than a few empty chairs now scattered around the lobby area. Ezekiel couldn’t help but smirk as he headed over to join his new temporary co-workers alongside Janay. 

“Couldn’t help but reap the fruits of your labors, huh?” Dr. Adeji teased him as she cut her eyes in the direction of the windows that saw out into the lobby. 

“I’m just here to be a spoke on the wheel. I’m just glad to see it looks like the wheel is greased and moving.” Ezekiel told her.

“Which reminds me, Vaya here mentioned you said something about treating us to lunch if things looked maintained around here. I’ll refer to the resident doctor’s decision here, but things are looking pretty handled at the moment.” Janay said.

Ezekiel raised an eyebrow and turned back to Dr. Adeji. “As much as I don’t like passing up a free meal, things can get pretty hectic around here at any given notice…”

Aliah waved off Dr. Adeji’s grim prognosis. “Riq just clocked in. Dr. Samuel is making his rounds now. Go enjoy yourself for once. Stop acting like you haven’t earned it, Vaya.” Dr. Adeji looked around at the rest of her nursing staff. All of them stared up at her with eager eyes, almost urging her to make the right decision. Dr. Adeji smiled and turned around to face Ezekiel and Janay. She pulled off her gloves and hung up her lab coat on a nearby coat rack.

“The cafe is not too far from here. We can have some of the guards give us a ride.” Ezekiel gave her a small smile she couldn’t help but return. He waited for her and Janay to pass before following them out of the building.

Ten minutes later, they were dropped off in front of a sloping concrete building with a shabby sign. Dr. Adeji led them iintothe crowded eatery and scanned the room for a place fo sit. A waitress hurried past them with a tray full of drinks and smiled widely when she spotted the doctor. “Vaya! You’re a sight for sore eyes! Please, I just cleared a booth in the back. Hurry up and grab it before one of these vagrants does.”

Dr. Adeji thanked the waitress and guided her guest through the smoke-riddled cafe until they found the booth. She slid into the far side while Ezekiel and Janay decided to take up the other. Janay looked around the room once she was settled in. She was trying not to judge the place on first impressions, but so far, practically everything in Timbuktu was making it very hard for her to do so. “I gotta say, doc. Not exactly the kind of place I’d expect to be on your list of favorites,” Janay said. She held back a grimace as a string of men with a curious odor passed their table. “And at the top spot? Kinda crazy.”

Dr. Adeji couldn’t help but giggle at Janay’s remarks. “There aren’t too many choices around now. And don’t bang your gavel until you’ve tried the food. I swear they’ve got some of the best cooks in Africa back there. And trust me, I’ve been all over this continent. Much like your friend there.”

Janay looked over at Ezekiel with surprise. He decided to pretend he didn’t notice the way she was staring at him. “That’s what I’ve been hearing since we’ve been on this trip. I can’t wait to share some of these stories with the crew back home.”

Before they could continue the conversation that Ezekiel very much wanted to shift away from him, the waitress in a purple hijab who had greeted them upon entering hurried over to the table. She wiped the sweat glistening on her brow with the sleeve of her shirt and pulled out her notepad.

“I’m so sorry about the wait, but I wanted to take care of Dr. Adeji personally. My name is Oumou. What can I get you all?”

“It's so good to see you, Oumou. How is your father doing?” Dr. Adeji asked politely.

Oumou smiled back, considerate of Dr. Adeji's inquiry about her dad. “He’s maintaining. Back on his feet and out in the fields, against your direction. But you can’t tell that old pack mule a damn thing.” She chuckled softly.

“All parents get that way when they hit a certain age. I suppose it's just part of the life cycle.” Dr. Adeji replied. She glanced down at the menu for a moment or two before looking back up at Oumou with a decision in mind. “Some lemonade sounds good in this heat. Light on the ice, though, please.”

Janay realized that Oumou’s eyes were on her, and she slid her own menu closer towards her chest. “Hmmm, I think an ice-cold beer would do me a couple of favors. I’ll take whatever you guys got back there in your cooler.”

Ezekiel handed back the drink menu to Oumou after she finished scribbling down Janay’s selection. “A ginger ale, no ice for me, if you have any. If not, then just some coffee.”

“I’ll be back in just a moment. I promise not to have you waiting.” Oumou hurried off to the kitchens to grab their drinks, leaving the trio to resume their conversation.

“Is every day at the facility like this morning?” Janay asked. She picked through the cafe’s selection of entrees while waiting for an answer from Dr. Adeji.

“Most days are a lot worse, and then some.” She nodded her head to underline her point when she saw Janay look up at her with her mouth agape in shock. “Night shifts get hit the hardest, mostly because that’s where we are understaffed both inside and with the guards. Things inside the city can get wild enough when the sun goes down. But a lot of villages and settlements across the desert are attacked overnight. Leaving us to deal with the fallout.”

“Who the hell is rolling around all night attacking civilians? And why? Sounds like a bunch of bastards to me.” Janay grumbled loudly. Her ill-intended words drew a few curious and even upset glares from some of the men at the tables and bar near them.

Dr. Adeji chuckled dryly. “Take your pick. We don’t have much protection. Bandits and insurgents are charging fees to fight for our ‘liberation’. The stress is never-ending, and people suffer. We are very fortunate to have the two of you here to help us, even if it is only short-term.”

Oumou returned with their drinks and took their food orders. The kitchen was not only fast, but every bit as advertised by Dr. Adeji. Janay was far too busy enjoying her plate of Yassa Poulet to talk. She resigned herself to listening and nodding along as Dr. Adeji continued talking about life in Mali, while Ezekiel enjoyed the rack of grilled lamb that he’d chosen for his lunch. Janay had chastised him for being a typical Michigander when it came to enjoying lamb. Dr. Adeji seemed to enjoy their company, and Ezekiel was glad he got her away from the hospital for a brief time.  

As he was ruminating on how worn out he figured Dr. Adeji was, based on her discussion with Janay, the entire cafe seemed to shake. Loud French rap music blared from at least half a block away from the building, yet Ezekiel could see the window pane of the cafe shaking slightly from the sound. Janay’s fork clattered on the table once she saw Dr. Adeji and Ezekiel joining the rest of the cafe patrons in turning towards the front windows. As she was barely 5’5”, Janay got on her knees in the booth next to Ezekiel in order to peer over the top of it. She, along with everyone else in the cafe, was eager or anxious to see what the source of the disturbance was.

Ezekiel looked over to his left when he saw Oumou gasp, nearly dropping the tray of food she was carrying. He sprang out of his seat and caught the tray before its contents could slide over the edge. He eased it onto the table next to them, then turned his focus onto the young waitress to figure out what had caused her sudden outburst. “Are you alright–”

He stopped short of asking as she slowly backed away towards the kitchen. She finally shook her head in response to the question that he’d begun to ask. Ezekiel turned to follow her gaze as the music grew ominously louder and louder. The pair of worn-down, clearly stolen Egyptian army-surplus Humvees rolled into the middle of the square. Both of the Humvees blasting music were packed with young men, none of them older than twenty-one or two, Ezekiel guessed, all of them wearing low-grade body armor and carrying various assault rifles. Ezekiel snatched up his cane and moved through the restaurant to get a better look at the militants filling the square.

“Stay here.” He turned back to tell Janay and Dr. Adeji. 

Janay looked at him with stunned disbelief. He knew she was wondering what he could possibly think he was doing, but he wasn’t quite sure himself yet either, and he didn’t have time for an argument with her about it.

The crowds and vendors on the streets seemed to scatter and clear out as a handful of the young, armed militants, with faces covered in scarves, bandannas, and dark sunglasses, piled out of the vehicle and into the street. Giving credence to the bad feeling he had stirring in his chest, Ezekiel watched as one of the young men smiled wickedly and stared directly at the cafe storefront. Ezekiel grimaced as his mind put together what was likely about to transpire. He whipped his head around and found Oumou cowering next to the bar, near the kitchens and his table. 

He hurried back over to her, ignoring the worried looks he was getting from Dr. Adeji and Janay. He grabbed Oumou by the shoulders more forcefully than he would have liked, but time was critical. “Miss, is there a back way out of this building?!”

“Uh…um, through the kitchens. But–”

Ezekiel whipped back towards Janay and Dr. Adeji, fear beginning to clutch at his heart. “Both of you, follow me. Oumou, you too!”

Ezekiel glanced towards the square just in time to see one of the young militants being handed an RPG. He cackled with his buddy about some dumb joke and promptly aimed the weapon at the cafe.

“What is going–”

“Just go, Janay! Move!”

The group was halfway through the kitchen, ignoring shouts from the cooks and staff. Ezekiel spotted the door ahead and yelled for Oumou to go ahead when the explosion rocked the building. Janay snapped up first, her head ringing like Sunday church bells. The kitchen was filled with nothing but smoke and a few flickering flames as far as her eyes could see in front of her. Realizing her legs seemed just fine, she gingerly pulled herself to her knees first, then her feet, with the help of the wall next to her.

She spotted something moving on the floor beside her and realized it was Dr. Adeji. Janay reached down quickly as she could, with her head still throbbing, to help the doctor off the floor. She noticed immediately that there was blood seeping from her forehead. Vaya put a hand to her forehead where she could feel the wet, warm substance dripping down the side of her face. There would be plenty of time to tend to her own injuries; right now, both she and Janay were just concerned about where Dr. Drake and Oumou had gone after the rocket hit. 

“Are you alright?” Vaya asked her new friend. Janay shook away the question dismissively. Her own aches and pains were an afterthought at the moment.

“I’ll be fine.” 

Janay stared back towards the front of the cafe. All she could see beyond the kitchen was thick, acrid smoke and flames dancing in the distance like diamonds on a chain. She heard the faint sounds of screams as bullets tore through concrete.

“There are people out there who will need our help. We need to get as many people off the streets as we can.” Vaya’s suggestion was cut short as a meat freezer door swung open behind them, banging loudly against the wall behind it.

They both breathed a welcome sigh of relief as Dr. Drake emerged from the freezer. Oumou was next to him with her arm slung around his shoulder. He walked her over to Vaya and Janay while helping her nurse the injury she was struggling with. “All of you, get back to the hospital. I’ll tend to everyone here I can. This is only going to escalate; I’m sure of it.” He passed Oumou over to Janay and Dr. Adeji, then snatched up his cane off the dusty floor. Janay stared at him in disbelief as he walked past them both. 

“What do you think you’re going to do? They have a small army out there, Ezekiel!” Janay told him.

Ezekiel glanced back over his shoulder at her as he stood in the archway that led back into the destroyed cafe. “I’ll figure it out. But I need you to do what you do best. What we came here to do: save lives, help people who need it.”

He turned back towards the acrid black smoke spilling from the main dining area and disappeared out of sight. Despite the nagging gut feeling that he was making a dangerous mistake, Janay felt Dr. Adeji's calm hand on her shoulder. She realized that their only course of action was to get out of the thick of the fray and back to the hospital, as Ezekiel had told them. Oumou was in no condition to move around too much. Her ankle was beginning to swell up; Janay figured she must have twisted it when the blast hit.

They helped Oumou out the back door of the cafe and exited into complete pandemonium. Sirens could be heard blaring down the block past them. Bullets echoed in every direction, followed by screams that rippled through the afternoon air. 

“C’mon. We can stick to the back alleys. We should be able to stay out of sight. Keep your heads low, just in case. The last thing you want to catch in Africa is a stray bullet.” Janay nodded and followed after her while keeping her warning at the front of her mind.

Ezekiel sprinted through the burning cafe. His eyes focused on the first Humvee as the trio of insurgents who had hung back to man the vehicle enjoyed their comrades' antics. He pulled the Glock G-19, which no one knew he occasionally kept on him, out of his waistband before running through what was left of the front doors of the cafe. He dropped his cane to the ground momentarily and took aim at the driver behind the wheel of the Humvee. 

A police SUV screeches to a halt directly in front of the Humvee, causing Ezekiel to hesitate momentarily. The pair of officers hopped out of the Humvee and shouted at the insurgents in French to get out of their vehicles and drop their weapons. Ezekiel watched as a troop of insurgents exited a building that they had just terrorized and saw the standoff. One of them cackled loudly before raising his rifle. The rest of them followed suit, aiming directly at the outgunned and outnumbered cops. The cops quickly realized their dire situation and lowered their weapons. 

“We don’t recognize that dog talk, you hear me?” One of the men near the first Humvee yelled at the terrified officers. Ezekiel recognized the common street tongue of the city, which was an offshoot of the Songhai language. “Tell your god that was your mistake if you see him.”

Ezekiel watched in horror as the insurgents all opened fire on the pair of cops and their vehicle, riddling them all with bullets for the sheer sport of it. He saw them cackle with unmitigated glee at the bodies strewn in the middle of the street, kicking them out of the way as if they were animals that were hit by a car. “Rascadi, what you want us to do now?” One of the men by the Humvee called out to another.

The man Ezekiel saw, who must have been running the show, whom the ruthless insurgent had called ‘Rascadi ’, looked in the opposite direction up the road. “Keep the authorities busy. We will go collect it while there is less opposition.” Rascadi turned to the rest of his group that had exited the storefront and jerked his head towards the Humvee up the street. “To the library. Bayat, you drive. Alou, I want you on the gunner. In case we get any soldiers trying to play hero on the way.”

Rascadi and his group piled into their Humvee and sped down the block like hell on wheels. The remaining group did as they were instructed. They sprayed bullets in every direction, at anyone still stupid enough, in their eyes, to be on the street. But they hadn’t spotted Ezekiel, which was their mistake. While they were playing their sadistic games, Ezekiel managed to make his way to their Humvee and slide under it. He pulled his pistol once more, and once he got a clean shot at one of them, he fired, popping him clean in the back of the head.

The shot jerked the insurgent forward, sending him face-first into the dusty street. The man should count himself lucky, Ezekiel thought to himself. His bullets held a synthesized chemical compound that merely knocked their targets out for 12-15 hours, depending on their size. It was far more than that bastard deserved, but he was a physician first and foremost, and he only saved lives, never took them. By the time the others had realized one of them had fallen, Ezekiel slid back from under the Humvee and cold-cocked the driver before yanking him from behind the wheel.

Ezekiel ducked down in the driver’s seat as bullets clanged off the Humvee he’d decided to hastily commandeer. He sped through the streets of Timbutku, honking his vehicle's horn to clear his path. His cane sat in the passenger seat next to him as he weaved around pedestrians and abandoned carts left in the midst of the pandemonium. He finally spotted the other Humvee up ahead and floored the gas.

“Rascadi,” Alou called from the gunner seat in the Humvee behind him. “I think we got a problem. Rascadi glanced in his side mirror from the passenger seat and saw the other Humvee gaining on them with a man he didn’t recognize at the wheel.

To him, if it wasn’t the cops or the army, it didn’t matter. His only focus was on what they were sent to obtain. “So take care of it!” Rascadi spat.

Alou nodded and gripped the heavy artillery gun. He locked the Humvee in his sights and ripped bullets down the road.

 “Ah, fiddlesticks…” Ezekiel mumbled before yanking the wheel sideways just in the nick of time. Alou didn’t let up his assault, yanking the gun towards the Humvee and opening fire again. Ezekiel stopped and yanked right this time, sliding behind a derelict market stall for cover.

He let out a short sigh of relief before he spotted the man called Rascadi hanging out of the passenger side window. It wasn’t until he had fired that Ezekiel realized another rocket was heading straight towards him. He knew there was only one option left, and he dove out of the Humvee just as the rocket struck. Rascadi slid back into his seat and passed the weapon back to one of his men. 

“You want something done right, do it yourself, huh?” He shook his head, annoyed.

Ezekiel dragged himself out of the dirt and snatched his cane up. Frustrated after a sideways glance at the flaming Humvee, he continued after the insurgents on foot. He had heard them mention heading towards the library. He could only wonder what they could possibly be after by targeting one of the city’s crown jewels of culture. Whatever they were planning or after, Ezekiel felt that, at this point, it was his duty to intervene.

A couple of miles ahead, Rascadi’s group finally came to a stop in front of the Ahmed Baba Institute. It was weakly guarded, as he had predicted. His men wasted no time cutting down the trio of guards that tried to cut them off as they approached the entrance. They kicked in the doors and spewed bullets into the ceiling in order to assert dominance over the scholars inside. Rascadi swept through the great hall that served as the atrium of the renowned library. His men forced everyone in the room to their stomachs or knees at gunpoint. Rascadi climbed onto the stone slabs that made up the desk for the atrium clerks. He held his gun up and let off another handful of rounds until the chorus of screams and squeals from their hostages came to weak whimpers and sniffles.

He made sure that every eye in the room was focused solely on him before he spoke. “If you want to survive today, do exactly as you are told!” His voice boomed through the atrium. Fearful eyes stared up at him as his eyes swept over the room like a hunting hawk. “The library director– one of you will take me to him. Or we will start shooting everyone in this room one by one.” Alou cocked his rifle and pointed it at a young father and his children cowering in a corner nearby. Rascadi looked back and forth around the room. When no one moved, he turned to signal Alou to fire.

“WAIT! PLEASE!” A soft voice caught Rascadi’s attention. A young woman stood up among the hostages, her face and head covered, but he could see the kindness in her eyes even from where he stood. “I will take you there. Just don’t hurt anyone.”

Rascadi hopped down from the desk and walked over to the woman. He stood in front of her for a long moment. Staring into her eyes, he could see an innocence that refused to be shaken. He nodded. She would make do. He turned to the rest of his men. “Alou, Rahm, Trega, with me. The rest of you hold down the fort until we return, and make sure we have a clear path out of here.” His loyal group of makeshift soldiers nodded. They scurried around the lobby to take up guard spots of their choosing. Alou, Rahm, and Trega hurried to Rascadi’s side as he turned to the fearful young woman. “Lead the way.”

She nodded and turned around, saying a small prayer that she would not be shot in the back, and marched forward. Rascadi led his group carefully behind her. Ezekiel slipped inside just in time to see them disappear between a set of stone doors at the other end of the atrium. He hurried behind a pillar to keep out of sight when one of Rascadi’s men turned in his direction. He needed to be as discreet as he could—a commotion would only further endanger lives. He crept from behind the pillar, past a soldier who decided to light up a smoke in celebration of their success thus far. His eyes bulged as Ezekiel gripped him in a tight chokehold, applying just enough pressure to his windpipe as he gently lowered him to the floor.

“Heyi! Wenza ntoni kanye kanye?” 

Damn, Ezekiel thought to himself as he released the unconscious soldier and stood up slowly. He turned towards the armed man approaching him with his rifle trained on him. He waited until he was within range before firing his cane’s grapple hook. The wiring cable wrapped itself around the man’s neck, and Ezekiel yanked him forward. The soldier smashed face-first into the pillar and dropped next to the other man. Ezekiel looked momentarily pleased with himself until a spatter of rifle fire tore through the column behind him. He scurried out of harm’s way, diving behind the atrium desk as another soldier hunted after him. He clutched his pistol tightly as he listened to the booted footsteps moving towards his position and the angry yelling between the young militia members left to hold down the area.

“Who was that guy?” He heard one of them yell to another in Xhosa, a language he thought was not predominant in this region of the continent.

“Didn’t look like a cop or soldier; must be some damn fool who wants to get his head blown off,” His comrade replied, annoyed.

The Black Communion, a horror thriller short in the vein of classics like Longlegs and Se7en.
SYNOPSIS: When a series of gruesome murders uncovers an elite secret society of wealthy sociopaths, a pair of grizzled FBI agents race across Metro Detroit to stop the cult before it can complete a satanic ritual decades in the making. As the body count rises and the conspiracy deepens, the chaos draws a retired vigilante out of hiding for one last hunt before it's too late.
Lead roles will be paid, plus IMDB credit and meals provided. Minor roles are unpaid but meals and IMDB credit provided. Shooting around Westland/Ypsi/Canton/Wayne around Sept/Oct. Please hmu here or at jyrdprod1992@gmail.com

Hey there folks, looking for ARC readers for one of my next books dropping, attached in the body is an excerpt from the novel. It will be the 4th release in the Lethalverse. Please dm me or email at jyrdprod1992@gmail.com if interested in an advanced copy.

Logline: By day, Ezekiel Drake teaches trauma medicine at a Michigan community college and saves lives in the ER. By night, he's a gentleman treasure hunter who steals priceless relics back from the empires that looted them — one heist at a time. But when a museum's mysterious envoy strong-arms him onto a plane to Mali weeks early, and a depraved cult called the Black Communion starts hunting the very same artifact, Drake's two lives are about to collide in the most dangerous way possible.

The sun was already bearing down hard on the streets of Timbuktu as the morning got underway. Ezekiel and Janay moved through the block, passing some farmers carrying loads of grain on their rusty flatbeds. Janay had begun to wonder if Ezekiel’s idea to walk from the hotel to their posting was the absolute worst idea he had ever conjured up. The city of Timbuktu was a far cry from Dakar in every sense of the expression.

The streets were less busy, with most people traveling on foot or in animal-drawn carts. Every once in a while, a motorcycle carrying two passengers or a Jeep full of turban-wearing men sped by them. Ever since they had landed in Bamako, it felt almost as if she had entered another world entirely. She felt a twinge of guilt, too scared to look too long in one direction or another as they continued on their path. Ezekiel looked over at her every so often. He was slightly amused by the gamut of emotions swirling through his companion as she took in the sights and sounds of early morning Timbuktu. 

“Not exactly the kind of vacation you were expecting, huh?” He asked while leaning closer to her.

She shook her head, partially in disbelief at what she was getting to be in the midst of. The hotel receptionist had told Janay that she was lucky to be in the city as an American. Janay hadn’t quite understood why that was, and they were already heading out of the building before she could get a chance to ask. But fortunately, or maybe it was unfortunately–she wasn’t quite sure which yet—she was getting the opportunity to see exactly what the young woman had been referring to firsthand. Dust kicked up around them as city traffic picked up another speed or two.

They passed a small pocket of what looked to be soldiers or some sort of police taking a smoke break. The pair was only another block away from their destination when Janay finally got around to asking more of the questions burning on her mind. 

“The place is pretty scarce when it comes to police presence.” She pointed out as a way of putting the topic out in the open.

“Scarce is putting it mildly. Or are you trying to keep yourself comfortable with your choice of phrasing?” Janay shot an annoyed glance at him before he continued on. “The police and army are mostly volunteers, and they primarily have to keep the city’s checkpoints manned. That leaves very few boots on the ground in the streets, unfortunately. Notice how people keep hustling. Nobody lingers too long, even at some of the shopping stalls.”

“Was it always like this? This sense of…anxiety in the air?” Janay asked. 

She couldn’t find a better way to describe the palpable tension she felt walking the streets of Timbuktu. She never got an answer to her question, either. Maybe it was the events that transpired before they arrived there that colored her emotions. She certainly wasn’t emotionally unaware enough to realize that could be the case. But something in her gut, the same thing that made her a damn good nurse when it mattered most, told her that she should trust her instincts, as she often tended to.

They approached the small, mostly clay-constructed two-story hospital where they would be working for the next few months. Janay was immediately surprised to see them approached by a pair of armed soldiers manning a ramshackle security gate blocking the path to the facility. Ezekiel stepped forward, raising both his hands to shoulder height in case either of them was particularly jumpy. Tyree warned him that their soldiers weren’t exactly well-trained and, given some of the situations they dealt with, could be trigger-happy.

“What is your business here, American?” The more dog-faced of the pair demanded to know.

“My name is Doctor Ezekiel Drake. This is my colleague, registered nurse Janay Lincoln. We’ve been assigned by Doctors Beyond Borders to have a residency at this facility. Dr. Adeji should have left a word.”

The soldier turned his wary eye back towards the shack, where another soldier quickly checked a clipboard pinned to the wall next to him. He gave the dog-faced guard a firm nod, and the soldiers in front of Ezekiel and Janay relaxed their posture, but only slightly. “I apologize, doctor. Please head inside; we will radio ahead and let them know you have arrived.”

Ezekiel gave them a polite nod before he and Janay passed through the barbed-wire gate the soldiers were guarding. They were greeted at the front desk by a young man and a young woman, both in green-and-white scrubs, with a far warmer reception. Ezekiel pulled out a copy of his ID and passport, and Janay did the same, setting them on the counter between them and the receptionists. 

“Welcome, Dr. Drake, Nurse Lincoln; we have been waiting with anticipation for your arrival!” The young man reached across the desk to shake both of their hands. The young lady passed them both a clipboard with a short form attached and a pen at the top once her coworker was done being friendly.

“I hope your travels were kind to you.” She told them both as they scribbled through the form. Janay rolled her eyes while Ezekiel merely chuckled, enjoying a private joke.

“More or less, I suppose.” He said. He passed the clipboard back before Janay reached past him to do the same.

“Emphasis on the less. Which is why I am sure Dr. Drake here would agree with me that we are eager to get to work.” Janay told them.

“We won’t keep you waiting any further.” They turned away from the desk at the sound of the gentle voice responding to Janay’s statement. A beautiful, ebony-skinned woman in navy-blue scrubs with a stethoscope around her neck approached them with a smile as kind as her voice.

“Ms. Light called us and told me you faced a bit of trouble in Dakar. I hope that you both are okay.” Dr. Adeji told them both while shaking each of their hands.

“Nothing we can complain about. Or that we’d care to, at least.” Ezekiel clapped his hands together excitedly. “So, where and how can we be of service now that you've got our extra bodies?”

“You two really like to dive right in, don’t you?” Dr. Adeji looked between them both.

“It’s how we do things back home, doc. No sense doing anything with your foot halfway on the gas pedal.” Janay replied. Dr. Adeji smiled as she turned to Ezekiel while leading them down the hallway.

“I see why you brought her along.” Dr. Adeji told her new colleague.

“Actually, that bit of flying by the seat of my scrubs was all my own doing,” Janay admitted. Dr. Adeji turned back to her with intrigue in her soft, brown eyes. “As to why this decision was made, I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“Our locker rooms are just up ahead on your left. Once you’re changed, meet Aliah at the nurses' station over there. You can’t miss her, I swear to you.”

Janay gave Dr. Adeji a friendly salute as she headed to the women's locker room. “Aye yi, captain.”

“I’ll catch up with you later, Janay.” She replied with a lazy wave while he continued down the hallway with Dr. Adeji. “What do you think they’ll have her get started on?”

Dr. Adeji sighed, showing the weariness behind her friendly exterior from the toll her job took. “Our lobby is in shambles at the moment. With her background, I’m sure our team will get the boost it needs. I’m optimistic we can have a few empty chairs out there by lunchtime.” Dr. Adeji paused, looking around the crowded ER with practically every room or bed filled at the moment. “That is, if I even get to have lunch…”

Ezekiel saw the slight melancholy cracking through on Dr. Adeji’s face and gave her a friendly, assuring pat on the shoulder. “Let me get into some scrubs, and we’ll get down to business. You, Janay, and I are going to your favorite place in town for lunch. My treat.”

Dr. Adeji found a smile spreading across her face again thanks to Ezekiel’s infectious enthusiasm. “I’ve got a gunshot victim in number eight over there that could use your skills.”

Ezekiel smiled and pointed in the direction he assumed the male locker rooms were. She nodded to confirm his guess. “Let whoever you got over there handling it now give me just five minutes.”

A handful of miles away from the hospital, a small boy waited patiently between a pair of grilled fish stalls alongside the main road. He spotted the hatchback truck he was waiting for, which was extremely out of place. But the driver’s intention was to stand out in the first place. The truck pulled to the side of the road in front of the fish salesmen. The sight of the teenage armed men in the front seat and in the truck bed drew looks of fear from the men and the small crowds that had gathered at their stall. After receiving the go-ahead from the driver, Reo, a heavier-set but intimidating young man, placed his rifle on the floor of the truck bed and hopped out. He walked over to the eager little boy who was dressed in clothes that were as dusty as the streets.

Reo could tell from the way the boy smelled that he’d been out in the heat for some time. “What you see today?”

“Only three guards at the checkpoint near the square. About five or six by the solar panel station.” The boy said with breathless excitement. Reo dug in his pockets for the boy’s fee. He made sure to give him something extra for his diligence.

The boy stared at the bundle of cash with wide-eyed glee, but his smile went away when he saw Reo wave his hand with a short gesture. “Eh, eh, what are you doing? Put that away, yeah?” The boy nodded and stuffed the money in his pocket. “Any army patrols roll through here?” The boy shook his head no. “Good.” Reo handed him another couple of bills, bringing the smile shooting back across the boy’s face like a star in the night sky. “Never be flashy with your money, you understand?  What you have is nobody else’s business.” The boy stuffed the rest of his money away while watching Reo climb back into the truck bed.

The hatchback pulled away and scuttled down the street. The driver glanced back through the window to the truck bed and yelled over at Reo. “What da boy say, eh?”

Reo glowered at the back of the driver’s head. He didn’t like to be rushed. “Things should be light. They picked the wrong day to be thinned out.” 

The driver nodded in response to Reo’s information without glancing back at him again. Reo rolled his eyes at the back of the driver’s head. He knew that his brother in arms was only jealous that he’d been placed in command of the operation they were sent to carry out. His envy was nothing but a slight annoyance to Reo at best. He’d been given the privilege of command due to his sterling work ethic. He didn’t care in the slightest about what the rest of his fellow soldiers thought about how he’d gotten there.

“We’ve got another hour till it's showtime. Let’s make sure everyone else is in position and go over the details once more.” Reo suggested. The truck slowed to a plodding pace as they got stuck in the midst of a flurry of people on foot, bikes, and a few farmers in older hatchbacks.

“We know our roles, Reo. What is the point of drilling us through the paces again?” A man to Reo’s left with a nasty, still-healing scar on his cheek asked next.

Reo looked him directly in the eyes, hoping to convey how serious he was with his response. “We ain’t never had a shot like this, and it's one we cannot afford to miss. Do you want to go back to him and explain why we are empty-handed? Because I don’t plan to.” He looked around the truck bed and into the front cab, waiting for one of them to disagree or argue further. When they sat in subdued silence for a long moment, he decided to continue. “That is what I thought. Now get everyone on the radios, and let’s run through it one more time.” Reo growled to the rest of them. The scar-faced soldier passed a bulky two-way radio to Reo, then grabbed a couple more and handed them around.

Inside the ER, Dr. Drake finished walking a young resident through the care of a nasty cut on an elderly woman’s leg. He slid back with the rolling stool and let the young man working with him take point from there. The young man nervously stepped forward as Ezekiel hopped off the stool and passed it to the rookie doctor so he could get comfortable and up close. “Alright, now, what do you see?”

The young doctor, whose badge with his smiling, hopeful photo read ‘Marin’, carefully examined the wound with a slender flashlight. His eyes widened with surprise when he spotted what Ezekiel was hoping he would. Behind Marin, Ezekiel nodded but didn’t speak. He wanted to allow him to work through the rest of the patient’s care as much on his own steam as was safely possible. “I think I still see some debris or foreign material…” Marin finally spoke up.

“Good, which means we need to double, even triple down on sterilizing the wound. Don’t be afraid to get in there and get that debris out yourself. In a place like this, where there’s always a constant mix of heat, sand, dirt, and sweat, we want to be as thorough as possible when it comes to cleaning the area.” Marin nodded, then turned back to the patient and got to work. Ezekiel looked up when he heard a knock on the door and motioned for Janay to join them when he saw her through the window. “Better safe than sorry is a motto that has gotten me through a lot of situations just like this. Trust me.” He looked up at Janay just as she entered and stood on the other side of the patient.

“Dr. Adeji was just wondering how much longer you would be. She wanted to see if you had a minute to catch up since we’ve all been running around like our feet are on fire all day.” Janay asked him after giving the patient a polite wave and smile, not wanting to be rude.

“It looks like Marin has gotten this wound pretty clean; now all I need is his assessment on the best way to close this up so I can get you back home where I’m sure you're missed.” Ezekiel gave the elderly patient a friendly smile as he heard her giggle at his flattery.

Janay leaned over the bed a tad, taking a peek at the injury. She straightened back up and looked at Marin, raising her eyebrows. “Your first suture, huh? Yeah, I remember when he walked me through my first one like that. Don’t worry, he won’t let you screw up. Just be confident; rely on what you learned in school.” Marin nodded, and Janay gave him an encouraging smile before looking back up at Dr. Drake. “We’ll be at the nurses' station waiting for you.” 

Janay walked out of the room, and Ezekiel turned his attention back to assisting Marin. He hoped that Janay’s small pep talk had given him some confidence, but from the look on the young doctor’s face, it appeared he still needed some prodding. “Her skin is fragile based on the bruising, so I shouldn’t make the sutures too tight.”

He leaned over towards the tray next to him and grabbed what he needed to begin stitching the wound closed. Ezekiel nodded behind him, a smile forming on his face. “Don’t choke the tissue, and it should be fine. And you want to make sure you leave room for the wound to drain. Our number one fear is and always should be in these cases is–”

“Infection!” Marin finished his thought, bringing a broad smile to Ezekiel’s face.

“Exactly, Marin.” Ezekiel looked up at the patient. “Ma’am, you couldn’t be in better hands with this young man.”

Ezekiel exited the room a couple of moments later. He had more than enough faith in Marin to go over aftercare with the patient. He looked around the busy room and realized it was far later than he’d realized when Janay had interrupted him. He spotted Dr. Adeji and Janay chatting with a couple of nurses, including the charge nurse, Aliah. Most of the nurses, along with a majority of Dr. Adeji’s staff working the day shift, seemed to be in much better spirits than when Ezekiel and Janay had arrived. While walking over towards the nurses' station, he decided to be bold and take a glimpse at how the waiting room was looking now that they were just about halfway through the day. Much to his immediate surprise and wonder, it looked almost half as full as it did that morning. There were more than a few empty chairs now scattered around the lobby area. Ezekiel couldn’t help but smirk as he headed over to join his new temporary co-workers alongside Janay. 

“Couldn’t help but reap the fruits of your labors, huh?” Dr. Adeji teased him as she cut her eyes in the direction of the windows that saw out into the lobby. 

“I’m just here to be a spoke on the wheel. I’m just glad to see it looks like the wheel is greased and moving.” Ezekiel told her.

“Which reminds me, Vaya here mentioned you said something about treating us to lunch if things looked maintained around here. I’ll refer to the resident doctor’s decision here, but things are looking pretty handled at the moment.” Janay said.

Ezekiel raised an eyebrow and turned back to Dr. Adeji. “As much as I don’t like passing up a free meal, things can get pretty hectic around here at any given notice…”

Aliah waved off Dr. Adeji’s grim prognosis. “Riq just clocked in. Dr. Samuel is making his rounds now. Go enjoy yourself for once. Stop acting like you haven’t earned it, Vaya.” Dr. Adeji looked around at the rest of her nursing staff. All of them stared up at her with eager eyes, almost urging her to make the right decision. Dr. Adeji smiled and turned around to face Ezekiel and Janay. She pulled off her gloves and hung up her lab coat on a nearby coat rack.

“The cafe is not too far from here. We can have some of the guards give us a ride.” Ezekiel gave her a small smile she couldn’t help but return. He waited for her and Janay to pass before following them out of the building.

Ten minutes later, they were dropped off in front of a sloping concrete building with a shabby sign. Dr. Adeji led them iintothe crowded eatery and scanned the room for a place fo sit. A waitress hurried past them with a tray full of drinks and smiled widely when she spotted the doctor. “Vaya! You’re a sight for sore eyes! Please, I just cleared a booth in the back. Hurry up and grab it before one of these vagrants does.”

Dr. Adeji thanked the waitress and guided her guest through the smoke-riddled cafe until they found the booth. She slid into the far side while Ezekiel and Janay decided to take up the other. Janay looked around the room once she was settled in. She was trying not to judge the place on first impressions, but so far, practically everything in Timbuktu was making it very hard for her to do so. “I gotta say, doc. Not exactly the kind of place I’d expect to be on your list of favorites,” Janay said. She held back a grimace as a string of men with a curious odor passed their table. “And at the top spot? Kinda crazy.”

Dr. Adeji couldn’t help but giggle at Janay’s remarks. “There aren’t too many choices around now. And don’t bang your gavel until you’ve tried the food. I swear they’ve got some of the best cooks in Africa back there. And trust me, I’ve been all over this continent. Much like your friend there.”

Janay looked over at Ezekiel with surprise. He decided to pretend he didn’t notice the way she was staring at him. “That’s what I’ve been hearing since we’ve been on this trip. I can’t wait to share some of these stories with the crew back home.”

Before they could continue the conversation that Ezekiel very much wanted to shift away from him, the waitress in a purple hijab who had greeted them upon entering hurried over to the table. She wiped the sweat glistening on her brow with the sleeve of her shirt and pulled out her notepad.

“I’m so sorry about the wait, but I wanted to take care of Dr. Adeji personally. My name is Oumou. What can I get you all?”

“It's so good to see you, Oumou. How is your father doing?” Dr. Adeji asked politely.

Oumou smiled back, considerate of Dr. Adeji's inquiry about her dad. “He’s maintaining. Back on his feet and out in the fields, against your direction. But you can’t tell that old pack mule a damn thing.” She chuckled softly.

“All parents get that way when they hit a certain age. I suppose it's just part of the life cycle.” Dr. Adeji replied. She glanced down at the menu for a moment or two before looking back up at Oumou with a decision in mind. “Some lemonade sounds good in this heat. Light on the ice, though, please.”

Janay realized that Oumou’s eyes were on her, and she slid her own menu closer towards her chest. “Hmmm, I think an ice-cold beer would do me a couple of favors. I’ll take whatever you guys got back there in your cooler.”

Ezekiel handed back the drink menu to Oumou after she finished scribbling down Janay’s selection. “A ginger ale, no ice for me, if you have any. If not, then just some coffee.”

“I’ll be back in just a moment. I promise not to have you waiting.” Oumou hurried off to the kitchens to grab their drinks, leaving the trio to resume their conversation.

“Is every day at the facility like this morning?” Janay asked. She picked through the cafe’s selection of entrees while waiting for an answer from Dr. Adeji.

“Most days are a lot worse, and then some.” She nodded her head to underline her point when she saw Janay look up at her with her mouth agape in shock. “Night shifts get hit the hardest, mostly because that’s where we are understaffed both inside and with the guards. Things inside the city can get wild enough when the sun goes down. But a lot of villages and settlements across the desert are attacked overnight. Leaving us to deal with the fallout.”

“Who the hell is rolling around all night attacking civilians? And why? Sounds like a bunch of bastards to me.” Janay grumbled loudly. Her ill-intended words drew a few curious and even upset glares from some of the men at the tables and bar near them.

Dr. Adeji chuckled dryly. “Take your pick. We don’t have much protection. Bandits and insurgents are charging fees to fight for our ‘liberation’. The stress is never-ending, and people suffer. We are very fortunate to have the two of you here to help us, even if it is only short-term.”

Oumou returned with their drinks and took their food orders. The kitchen was not only fast, but every bit as advertised by Dr. Adeji. Janay was far too busy enjoying her plate of Yassa Poulet to talk. She resigned herself to listening and nodding along as Dr. Adeji continued talking about life in Mali, while Ezekiel enjoyed the rack of grilled lamb that he’d chosen for his lunch. Janay had chastised him for being a typical Michigander when it came to enjoying lamb. Dr. Adeji seemed to enjoy their company, and Ezekiel was glad he got her away from the hospital for a brief time.  

As he was ruminating on how worn out he figured Dr. Adeji was, based on her discussion with Janay, the entire cafe seemed to shake. Loud French rap music blared from at least half a block away from the building, yet Ezekiel could see the window pane of the cafe shaking slightly from the sound. Janay’s fork clattered on the table once she saw Dr. Adeji and Ezekiel joining the rest of the cafe patrons in turning towards the front windows. As she was barely 5’5”, Janay got on her knees in the booth next to Ezekiel in order to peer over the top of it. She, along with everyone else in the cafe, was eager or anxious to see what the source of the disturbance was.

Ezekiel looked over to his left when he saw Oumou gasp, nearly dropping the tray of food she was carrying. He sprang out of his seat and caught the tray before its contents could slide over the edge. He eased it onto the table next to them, then turned his focus onto the young waitress to figure out what had caused her sudden outburst. “Are you alright–”

He stopped short of asking as she slowly backed away towards the kitchen. She finally shook her head in response to the question that he’d begun to ask. Ezekiel turned to follow her gaze as the music grew ominously louder and louder. The pair of worn-down, clearly stolen Egyptian army-surplus Humvees rolled into the middle of the square. Both of the Humvees blasting music were packed with young men, none of them older than twenty-one or two, Ezekiel guessed, all of them wearing low-grade body armor and carrying various assault rifles. Ezekiel snatched up his cane and moved through the restaurant to get a better look at the militants filling the square.

“Stay here.” He turned back to tell Janay and Dr. Adeji. 

Janay looked at him with stunned disbelief. He knew she was wondering what he could possibly think he was doing, but he wasn’t quite sure himself yet either, and he didn’t have time for an argument with her about it.

The crowds and vendors on the streets seemed to scatter and clear out as a handful of the young, armed militants, with faces covered in scarves, bandannas, and dark sunglasses, piled out of the vehicle and into the street. Giving credence to the bad feeling he had stirring in his chest, Ezekiel watched as one of the young men smiled wickedly and stared directly at the cafe storefront. Ezekiel grimaced as his mind put together what was likely about to transpire. He whipped his head around and found Oumou cowering next to the bar, near the kitchens and his table. 

He hurried back over to her, ignoring the worried looks he was getting from Dr. Adeji and Janay. He grabbed Oumou by the shoulders more forcefully than he would have liked, but time was critical. “Miss, is there a back way out of this building?!”

“Uh…um, through the kitchens. But–”

Ezekiel whipped back towards Janay and Dr. Adeji, fear beginning to clutch at his heart. “Both of you, follow me. Oumou, you too!”

Ezekiel glanced towards the square just in time to see one of the young militants being handed an RPG. He cackled with his buddy about some dumb joke and promptly aimed the weapon at the cafe.

“What is going–”

“Just go, Janay! Move!”

The group was halfway through the kitchen, ignoring shouts from the cooks and staff. Ezekiel spotted the door ahead and yelled for Oumou to go ahead when the explosion rocked the building. Janay snapped up first, her head ringing like Sunday church bells. The kitchen was filled with nothing but smoke and a few flickering flames as far as her eyes could see in front of her. Realizing her legs seemed just fine, she gingerly pulled herself to her knees first, then her feet, with the help of the wall next to her.

She spotted something moving on the floor beside her and realized it was Dr. Adeji. Janay reached down quickly as she could, with her head still throbbing, to help the doctor off the floor. She noticed immediately that there was blood seeping from her forehead. Vaya put a hand to her forehead where she could feel the wet, warm substance dripping down the side of her face. There would be plenty of time to tend to her own injuries; right now, both she and Janay were just concerned about where Dr. Drake and Oumou had gone after the rocket hit. 

“Are you alright?” Vaya asked her new friend. Janay shook away the question dismissively. Her own aches and pains were an afterthought at the moment.

“I’ll be fine.” 

Janay stared back towards the front of the cafe. All she could see beyond the kitchen was thick, acrid smoke and flames dancing in the distance like diamonds on a chain. She heard the faint sounds of screams as bullets tore through concrete.

“There are people out there who will need our help. We need to get as many people off the streets as we can.” Vaya’s suggestion was cut short as a meat freezer door swung open behind them, banging loudly against the wall behind it.

They both breathed a welcome sigh of relief as Dr. Drake emerged from the freezer. Oumou was next to him with her arm slung around his shoulder. He walked her over to Vaya and Janay while helping her nurse the injury she was struggling with. “All of you, get back to the hospital. I’ll tend to everyone here I can. This is only going to escalate; I’m sure of it.” He passed Oumou over to Janay and Dr. Adeji, then snatched up his cane off the dusty floor. Janay stared at him in disbelief as he walked past them both. 

“What do you think you’re going to do? They have a small army out there, Ezekiel!” Janay told him.

Ezekiel glanced back over his shoulder at her as he stood in the archway that led back into the destroyed cafe. “I’ll figure it out. But I need you to do what you do best. What we came here to do: save lives, help people who need it.”

He turned back towards the acrid black smoke spilling from the main dining area and disappeared out of sight. Despite the nagging gut feeling that he was making a dangerous mistake, Janay felt Dr. Adeji's calm hand on her shoulder. She realized that their only course of action was to get out of the thick of the fray and back to the hospital, as Ezekiel had told them. Oumou was in no condition to move around too much. Her ankle was beginning to swell up; Janay figured she must have twisted it when the blast hit.

They helped Oumou out the back door of the cafe and exited into complete pandemonium. Sirens could be heard blaring down the block past them. Bullets echoed in every direction, followed by screams that rippled through the afternoon air. 

“C’mon. We can stick to the back alleys. We should be able to stay out of sight. Keep your heads low, just in case. The last thing you want to catch in Africa is a stray bullet.” Janay nodded and followed after her while keeping her warning at the front of her mind.

Ezekiel sprinted through the burning cafe. His eyes focused on the first Humvee as the trio of insurgents who had hung back to man the vehicle enjoyed their comrades' antics. He pulled the Glock G-19, which no one knew he occasionally kept on him, out of his waistband before running through what was left of the front doors of the cafe. He dropped his cane to the ground momentarily and took aim at the driver behind the wheel of the Humvee. 

A police SUV screeches to a halt directly in front of the Humvee, causing Ezekiel to hesitate momentarily. The pair of officers hopped out of the Humvee and shouted at the insurgents in French to get out of their vehicles and drop their weapons. Ezekiel watched as a troop of insurgents exited a building that they had just terrorized and saw the standoff. One of them cackled loudly before raising his rifle. The rest of them followed suit, aiming directly at the outgunned and outnumbered cops. The cops quickly realized their dire situation and lowered their weapons. 

“We don’t recognize that dog talk, you hear me?” One of the men near the first Humvee yelled at the terrified officers. Ezekiel recognized the common street tongue of the city, which was an offshoot of the Songhai language. “Tell your god that was your mistake if you see him.”

Ezekiel watched in horror as the insurgents all opened fire on the pair of cops and their vehicle, riddling them all with bullets for the sheer sport of it. He saw them cackle with unmitigated glee at the bodies strewn in the middle of the street, kicking them out of the way as if they were animals that were hit by a car. “Rascadi, what you want us to do now?” One of the men by the Humvee called out to another.

The man Ezekiel saw, who must have been running the show, whom the ruthless insurgent had called ‘Rascadi ’, looked in the opposite direction up the road. “Keep the authorities busy. We will go collect it while there is less opposition.” Rascadi turned to the rest of his group that had exited the storefront and jerked his head towards the Humvee up the street. “To the library. Bayat, you drive. Alou, I want you on the gunner. In case we get any soldiers trying to play hero on the way.”

Rascadi and his group piled into their Humvee and sped down the block like hell on wheels. The remaining group did as they were instructed. They sprayed bullets in every direction, at anyone still stupid enough, in their eyes, to be on the street. But they hadn’t spotted Ezekiel, which was their mistake. While they were playing their sadistic games, Ezekiel managed to make his way to their Humvee and slide under it. He pulled his pistol once more, and once he got a clean shot at one of them, he fired, popping him clean in the back of the head.

The shot jerked the insurgent forward, sending him face-first into the dusty street. The man should count himself lucky, Ezekiel thought to himself. His bullets held a synthesized chemical compound that merely knocked their targets out for 12-15 hours, depending on their size. It was far more than that bastard deserved, but he was a physician first and foremost, and he only saved lives, never took them. By the time the others had realized one of them had fallen, Ezekiel slid back from under the Humvee and cold-cocked the driver before yanking him from behind the wheel.

Ezekiel ducked down in the driver’s seat as bullets clanged off the Humvee he’d decided to hastily commandeer. He sped through the streets of Timbutku, honking his vehicle's horn to clear his path. His cane sat in the passenger seat next to him as he weaved around pedestrians and abandoned carts left in the midst of the pandemonium. He finally spotted the other Humvee up ahead and floored the gas.

“Rascadi,” Alou called from the gunner seat in the Humvee behind him. “I think we got a problem. Rascadi glanced in his side mirror from the passenger seat and saw the other Humvee gaining on them with a man he didn’t recognize at the wheel.

To him, if it wasn’t the cops or the army, it didn’t matter. His only focus was on what they were sent to obtain. “So take care of it!” Rascadi spat.

Alou nodded and gripped the heavy artillery gun. He locked the Humvee in his sights and ripped bullets down the road.

 “Ah, fiddlesticks…” Ezekiel mumbled before yanking the wheel sideways just in the nick of time. Alou didn’t let up his assault, yanking the gun towards the Humvee and opening fire again. Ezekiel stopped and yanked right this time, sliding behind a derelict market stall for cover.

He let out a short sigh of relief before he spotted the man called Rascadi hanging out of the passenger side window. It wasn’t until he had fired that Ezekiel realized another rocket was heading straight towards him. He knew there was only one option left, and he dove out of the Humvee just as the rocket struck. Rascadi slid back into his seat and passed the weapon back to one of his men. 

“You want something done right, do it yourself, huh?” He shook his head, annoyed.

Ezekiel dragged himself out of the dirt and snatched his cane up. Frustrated after a sideways glance at the flaming Humvee, he continued after the insurgents on foot. He had heard them mention heading towards the library. He could only wonder what they could possibly be after by targeting one of the city’s crown jewels of culture. Whatever they were planning or after, Ezekiel felt that, at this point, it was his duty to intervene.

A couple of miles ahead, Rascadi’s group finally came to a stop in front of the Ahmed Baba Institute. It was weakly guarded, as he had predicted. His men wasted no time cutting down the trio of guards that tried to cut them off as they approached the entrance. They kicked in the doors and spewed bullets into the ceiling in order to assert dominance over the scholars inside. Rascadi swept through the great hall that served as the atrium of the renowned library. His men forced everyone in the room to their stomachs or knees at gunpoint. Rascadi climbed onto the stone slabs that made up the desk for the atrium clerks. He held his gun up and let off another handful of rounds until the chorus of screams and squeals from their hostages came to weak whimpers and sniffles.

He made sure that every eye in the room was focused solely on him before he spoke. “If you want to survive today, do exactly as you are told!” His voice boomed through the atrium. Fearful eyes stared up at him as his eyes swept over the room like a hunting hawk. “The library director– one of you will take me to him. Or we will start shooting everyone in this room one by one.” Alou cocked his rifle and pointed it at a young father and his children cowering in a corner nearby. Rascadi looked back and forth around the room. When no one moved, he turned to signal Alou to fire.

“WAIT! PLEASE!” A soft voice caught Rascadi’s attention. A young woman stood up among the hostages, her face and head covered, but he could see the kindness in her eyes even from where he stood. “I will take you there. Just don’t hurt anyone.”

Rascadi hopped down from the desk and walked over to the woman. He stood in front of her for a long moment. Staring into her eyes, he could see an innocence that refused to be shaken. He nodded. She would make do. He turned to the rest of his men. “Alou, Rahm, Trega, with me. The rest of you hold down the fort until we return, and make sure we have a clear path out of here.” His loyal group of makeshift soldiers nodded. They scurried around the lobby to take up guard spots of their choosing. Alou, Rahm, and Trega hurried to Rascadi’s side as he turned to the fearful young woman. “Lead the way.”

She nodded and turned around, saying a small prayer that she would not be shot in the back, and marched forward. Rascadi led his group carefully behind her. Ezekiel slipped inside just in time to see them disappear between a set of stone doors at the other end of the atrium. He hurried behind a pillar to keep out of sight when one of Rascadi’s men turned in his direction. He needed to be as discreet as he could—a commotion would only further endanger lives. He crept from behind the pillar, past a soldier who decided to light up a smoke in celebration of their success thus far. His eyes bulged as Ezekiel gripped him in a tight chokehold, applying just enough pressure to his windpipe as he gently lowered him to the floor.

“Heyi! Wenza ntoni kanye kanye?” 

Damn, Ezekiel thought to himself as he released the unconscious soldier and stood up slowly. He turned towards the armed man approaching him with his rifle trained on him. He waited until he was within range before firing his cane’s grapple hook. The wiring cable wrapped itself around the man’s neck, and Ezekiel yanked him forward. The soldier smashed face-first into the pillar and dropped next to the other man. Ezekiel looked momentarily pleased with himself until a spatter of rifle fire tore through the column behind him. He scurried out of harm’s way, diving behind the atrium desk as another soldier hunted after him. He clutched his pistol tightly as he listened to the booted footsteps moving towards his position and the angry yelling between the young militia members left to hold down the area.

“Who was that guy?” He heard one of them yell to another in Xhosa, a language he thought was not predominant in this region of the continent.

“Didn’t look like a cop or soldier; must be some damn fool who wants to get his head blown off,” His comrade replied, annoyed.

The sun was already bearing down hard on the streets of Timbuktu as the morning got underway. Ezekiel and Janay moved through the block, passing some farmers carrying loads of grain on their rusty flatbeds. Janay had begun to wonder if Ezekiel’s idea to walk from the hotel to their posting was the absolute worst idea he had ever conjured up. The city of Timbuktu was a far cry from Dakar in every sense of the expression.

The streets were less busy, with most people traveling on foot or in animal-drawn carts. Every once in a while, a motorcycle carrying two passengers or a Jeep full of turban-wearing men sped by them. Ever since they had landed in Bamako, it felt almost as if she had entered another world entirely. She felt a twinge of guilt, too scared to look too long in one direction or another as they continued on their path. Ezekiel looked over at her every so often. He was slightly amused by the gamut of emotions swirling through his companion as she took in the sights and sounds of early morning Timbuktu. 

“Not exactly the kind of vacation you were expecting, huh?” He asked while leaning closer to her.

She shook her head, partially in disbelief at what she was getting to be in the midst of. The hotel receptionist had told Janay that she was lucky to be in the city as an American. Janay hadn’t quite understood why that was, and they were already heading out of the building before she could get a chance to ask. But fortunately, or maybe it was unfortunately–she wasn’t quite sure which yet—she was getting the opportunity to see exactly what the young woman had been referring to firsthand. Dust kicked up around them as city traffic picked up another speed or two.

They passed a small pocket of what looked to be soldiers or some sort of police taking a smoke break. The pair was only another block away from their destination when Janay finally got around to asking more of the questions burning on her mind. 

“The place is pretty scarce when it comes to police presence.” She pointed out as a way of putting the topic out in the open.

“Scarce is putting it mildly. Or are you trying to keep yourself comfortable with your choice of phrasing?” Janay shot an annoyed glance at him before he continued on. “The police and army are mostly volunteers, and they primarily have to keep the city’s checkpoints manned. That leaves very few boots on the ground in the streets, unfortunately. Notice how people keep hustling. Nobody lingers too long, even at some of the shopping stalls.”

“Was it always like this? This sense of…anxiety in the air?” Janay asked. 

She couldn’t find a better way to describe the palpable tension she felt walking the streets of Timbuktu. She never got an answer to her question, either. Maybe it was the events that transpired before they arrived there that colored her emotions. She certainly wasn’t emotionally unaware enough to realize that could be the case. But something in her gut, the same thing that made her a damn good nurse when it mattered most, told her that she should trust her instincts, as she often tended to.

They approached the small, mostly clay-constructed two-story hospital where they would be working for the next few months. Janay was immediately surprised to see them approached by a pair of armed soldiers manning a ramshackle security gate blocking the path to the facility. Ezekiel stepped forward, raising both his hands to shoulder height in case either of them was particularly jumpy. Tyree warned him that their soldiers weren’t exactly well-trained and, given some of the situations they dealt with, could be trigger-happy.

“What is your business here, American?” The more dog-faced of the pair demanded to know.

“My name is Doctor Ezekiel Drake. This is my colleague, registered nurse Janay Lincoln. We’ve been assigned by Doctors Beyond Borders to have a residency at this facility. Dr. Adeji should have left a word.”

The soldier turned his wary eye back towards the shack, where another soldier quickly checked a clipboard pinned to the wall next to him. He gave the dog-faced guard a firm nod, and the soldiers in front of Ezekiel and Janay relaxed their posture, but only slightly. “I apologize, doctor. Please head inside; we will radio ahead and let them know you have arrived.”

Ezekiel gave them a polite nod before he and Janay passed through the barbed-wire gate the soldiers were guarding. They were greeted at the front desk by a young man and a young woman, both in green-and-white scrubs, with a far warmer reception. Ezekiel pulled out a copy of his ID and passport, and Janay did the same, setting them on the counter between them and the receptionists. 

“Welcome, Dr. Drake, Nurse Lincoln; we have been waiting with anticipation for your arrival!” The young man reached across the desk to shake both of their hands. The young lady passed them both a clipboard with a short form attached and a pen at the top once her coworker was done being friendly.

“I hope your travels were kind to you.” She told them both as they scribbled through the form. Janay rolled her eyes while Ezekiel merely chuckled, enjoying a private joke.

“More or less, I suppose.” He said. He passed the clipboard back before Janay reached past him to do the same.

“Emphasis on the less. Which is why I am sure Dr. Drake here would agree with me that we are eager to get to work.” Janay told them.

“We won’t keep you waiting any further.” They turned away from the desk at the sound of the gentle voice responding to Janay’s statement. A beautiful, ebony-skinned woman in navy-blue scrubs with a stethoscope around her neck approached them with a smile as kind as her voice.

“Ms. Light called us and told me you faced a bit of trouble in Dakar. I hope that you both are okay.” Dr. Adeji told them both while shaking each of their hands.

“Nothing we can complain about. Or that we’d care to, at least.” Ezekiel clapped his hands together excitedly. “So, where and how can we be of service now that you've got our extra bodies?”

“You two really like to dive right in, don’t you?” Dr. Adeji looked between them both.

“It’s how we do things back home, doc. No sense doing anything with your foot halfway on the gas pedal.” Janay replied. Dr. Adeji smiled as she turned to Ezekiel while leading them down the hallway.

“I see why you brought her along.” Dr. Adeji told her new colleague.

“Actually, that bit of flying by the seat of my scrubs was all my own doing,” Janay admitted. Dr. Adeji turned back to her with intrigue in her soft, brown eyes. “As to why this decision was made, I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“Our locker rooms are just up ahead on your left. Once you’re changed, meet Aliah at the nurses' station over there. You can’t miss her, I swear to you.”

Janay gave Dr. Adeji a friendly salute as she headed to the women's locker room. “Aye yi, captain.”

“I’ll catch up with you later, Janay.” She replied with a lazy wave while he continued down the hallway with Dr. Adeji. “What do you think they’ll have her get started on?”

Dr. Adeji sighed, showing the weariness behind her friendly exterior from the toll her job took. “Our lobby is in shambles at the moment. With her background, I’m sure our team will get the boost it needs. I’m optimistic we can have a few empty chairs out there by lunchtime.” Dr. Adeji paused, looking around the crowded ER with practically every room or bed filled at the moment. “That is, if I even get to have lunch…”

Ezekiel saw the slight melancholy cracking through on Dr. Adeji’s face and gave her a friendly, assuring pat on the shoulder. “Let me get into some scrubs, and we’ll get down to business. You, Janay, and I are going to your favorite place in town for lunch. My treat.”

Dr. Adeji found a smile spreading across her face again thanks to Ezekiel’s infectious enthusiasm. “I’ve got a gunshot victim in number eight over there that could use your skills.”

Ezekiel smiled and pointed in the direction he assumed the male locker rooms were. She nodded to confirm his guess. “Let whoever you got over there handling it now give me just five minutes.”

A handful of miles away from the hospital, a small boy waited patiently between a pair of grilled fish stalls alongside the main road. He spotted the hatchback truck he was waiting for, which was extremely out of place. But the driver’s intention was to stand out in the first place. The truck pulled to the side of the road in front of the fish salesmen. The sight of the teenage armed men in the front seat and in the truck bed drew looks of fear from the men and the small crowds that had gathered at their stall. After receiving the go-ahead from the driver, Reo, a heavier-set but intimidating young man, placed his rifle on the floor of the truck bed and hopped out. He walked over to the eager little boy who was dressed in clothes that were as dusty as the streets.

Reo could tell from the way the boy smelled that he’d been out in the heat for some time. “What you see today?”

“Only three guards at the checkpoint near the square. About five or six by the solar panel station.” The boy said with breathless excitement. Reo dug in his pockets for the boy’s fee. He made sure to give him something extra for his diligence.

The boy stared at the bundle of cash with wide-eyed glee, but his smile went away when he saw Reo wave his hand with a short gesture. “Eh, eh, what are you doing? Put that away, yeah?” The boy nodded and stuffed the money in his pocket. “Any army patrols roll through here?” The boy shook his head no. “Good.” Reo handed him another couple of bills, bringing the smile shooting back across the boy’s face like a star in the night sky. “Never be flashy with your money, you understand?  What you have is nobody else’s business.” The boy stuffed the rest of his money away while watching Reo climb back into the truck bed.

The hatchback pulled away and scuttled down the street. The driver glanced back through the window to the truck bed and yelled over at Reo. “What da boy say, eh?”

Reo glowered at the back of the driver’s head. He didn’t like to be rushed. “Things should be light. They picked the wrong day to be thinned out.” 

The driver nodded in response to Reo’s information without glancing back at him again. Reo rolled his eyes at the back of the driver’s head. He knew that his brother in arms was only jealous that he’d been placed in command of the operation they were sent to carry out. His envy was nothing but a slight annoyance to Reo at best. He’d been given the privilege of command due to his sterling work ethic. He didn’t care in the slightest about what the rest of his fellow soldiers thought about how he’d gotten there.

“We’ve got another hour till it's showtime. Let’s make sure everyone else is in position and go over the details once more.” Reo suggested. The truck slowed to a plodding pace as they got stuck in the midst of a flurry of people on foot, bikes, and a few farmers in older hatchbacks.

“We know our roles, Reo. What is the point of drilling us through the paces again?” A man to Reo’s left with a nasty, still-healing scar on his cheek asked next.

Reo looked him directly in the eyes, hoping to convey how serious he was with his response. “We ain’t never had a shot like this, and it's one we cannot afford to miss. Do you want to go back to him and explain why we are empty-handed? Because I don’t plan to.” He looked around the truck bed and into the front cab, waiting for one of them to disagree or argue further. When they sat in subdued silence for a long moment, he decided to continue. “That is what I thought. Now get everyone on the radios, and let’s run through it one more time.” Reo growled to the rest of them. The scar-faced soldier passed a bulky two-way radio to Reo, then grabbed a couple more and handed them around.

Inside the ER, Dr. Drake finished walking a young resident through the care of a nasty cut on an elderly woman’s leg. He slid back with the rolling stool and let the young man working with him take point from there. The young man nervously stepped forward as Ezekiel hopped off the stool and passed it to the rookie doctor so he could get comfortable and up close. “Alright, now, what do you see?”

The young doctor, whose badge with his smiling, hopeful photo read ‘Marin’, carefully examined the wound with a slender flashlight. His eyes widened with surprise when he spotted what Ezekiel was hoping he would. Behind Marin, Ezekiel nodded but didn’t speak. He wanted to allow him to work through the rest of the patient’s care as much on his own steam as was safely possible. “I think I still see some debris or foreign material…” Marin finally spoke up.

“Good, which means we need to double, even triple down on sterilizing the wound. Don’t be afraid to get in there and get that debris out yourself. In a place like this, where there’s always a constant mix of heat, sand, dirt, and sweat, we want to be as thorough as possible when it comes to cleaning the area.” Marin nodded, then turned back to the patient and got to work. Ezekiel looked up when he heard a knock on the door and motioned for Janay to join them when he saw her through the window. “Better safe than sorry is a motto that has gotten me through a lot of situations just like this. Trust me.” He looked up at Janay just as she entered and stood on the other side of the patient.

“Dr. Adeji was just wondering how much longer you would be. She wanted to see if you had a minute to catch up since we’ve all been running around like our feet are on fire all day.” Janay asked him after giving the patient a polite wave and smile, not wanting to be rude.

“It looks like Marin has gotten this wound pretty clean; now all I need is his assessment on the best way to close this up so I can get you back home where I’m sure you're missed.” Ezekiel gave the elderly patient a friendly smile as he heard her giggle at his flattery.

Janay leaned over the bed a tad, taking a peek at the injury. She straightened back up and looked at Marin, raising her eyebrows. “Your first suture, huh? Yeah, I remember when he walked me through my first one like that. Don’t worry, he won’t let you screw up. Just be confident; rely on what you learned in school.” Marin nodded, and Janay gave him an encouraging smile before looking back up at Dr. Drake. “We’ll be at the nurses' station waiting for you.” 

Janay walked out of the room, and Ezekiel turned his attention back to assisting Marin. He hoped that Janay’s small pep talk had given him some confidence, but from the look on the young doctor’s face, it appeared he still needed some prodding. “Her skin is fragile based on the bruising, so I shouldn’t make the sutures too tight.”

He leaned over towards the tray next to him and grabbed what he needed to begin stitching the wound closed. Ezekiel nodded behind him, a smile forming on his face. “Don’t choke the tissue, and it should be fine. And you want to make sure you leave room for the wound to drain. Our number one fear is and always should be in these cases is–”

“Infection!” Marin finished his thought, bringing a broad smile to Ezekiel’s face.

“Exactly, Marin.” Ezekiel looked up at the patient. “Ma’am, you couldn’t be in better hands with this young man.”

Ezekiel exited the room a couple of moments later. He had more than enough faith in Marin to go over aftercare with the patient. He looked around the busy room and realized it was far later than he’d realized when Janay had interrupted him. He spotted Dr. Adeji and Janay chatting with a couple of nurses, including the charge nurse, Aliah. Most of the nurses, along with a majority of Dr. Adeji’s staff working the day shift, seemed to be in much better spirits than when Ezekiel and Janay had arrived. While walking over towards the nurses' station, he decided to be bold and take a glimpse at how the waiting room was looking now that they were just about halfway through the day. Much to his immediate surprise and wonder, it looked almost half as full as it did that morning. There were more than a few empty chairs now scattered around the lobby area. Ezekiel couldn’t help but smirk as he headed over to join his new temporary co-workers alongside Janay. 

“Couldn’t help but reap the fruits of your labors, huh?” Dr. Adeji teased him as she cut her eyes in the direction of the windows that saw out into the lobby. 

“I’m just here to be a spoke on the wheel. I’m just glad to see it looks like the wheel is greased and moving.” Ezekiel told her.

“Which reminds me, Vaya here mentioned you said something about treating us to lunch if things looked maintained around here. I’ll refer to the resident doctor’s decision here, but things are looking pretty handled at the moment.” Janay said.

Ezekiel raised an eyebrow and turned back to Dr. Adeji. “As much as I don’t like passing up a free meal, things can get pretty hectic around here at any given notice…”

Aliah waved off Dr. Adeji’s grim prognosis. “Riq just clocked in. Dr. Samuel is making his rounds now. Go enjoy yourself for once. Stop acting like you haven’t earned it, Vaya.” Dr. Adeji looked around at the rest of her nursing staff. All of them stared up at her with eager eyes, almost urging her to make the right decision. Dr. Adeji smiled and turned around to face Ezekiel and Janay. She pulled off her gloves and hung up her lab coat on a nearby coat rack.

“The cafe is not too far from here. We can have some of the guards give us a ride.” Ezekiel gave her a small smile she couldn’t help but return. He waited for her and Janay to pass before following them out of the building.

Ten minutes later, they were dropped off in front of a sloping concrete building with a shabby sign. Dr. Adeji led them iintothe crowded eatery and scanned the room for a place fo sit. A waitress hurried past them with a tray full of drinks and smiled widely when she spotted the doctor. “Vaya! You’re a sight for sore eyes! Please, I just cleared a booth in the back. Hurry up and grab it before one of these vagrants does.”

Dr. Adeji thanked the waitress and guided her guest through the smoke-riddled cafe until they found the booth. She slid into the far side while Ezekiel and Janay decided to take up the other. Janay looked around the room once she was settled in. She was trying not to judge the place on first impressions, but so far, practically everything in Timbuktu was making it very hard for her to do so. “I gotta say, doc. Not exactly the kind of place I’d expect to be on your list of favorites,” Janay said. She held back a grimace as a string of men with a curious odor passed their table. “And at the top spot? Kinda crazy.”

Dr. Adeji couldn’t help but giggle at Janay’s remarks. “There aren’t too many choices around now. And don’t bang your gavel until you’ve tried the food. I swear they’ve got some of the best cooks in Africa back there. And trust me, I’ve been all over this continent. Much like your friend there.”

Janay looked over at Ezekiel with surprise. He decided to pretend he didn’t notice the way she was staring at him. “That’s what I’ve been hearing since we’ve been on this trip. I can’t wait to share some of these stories with the crew back home.”

Before they could continue the conversation that Ezekiel very much wanted to shift away from him, the waitress in a purple hijab who had greeted them upon entering hurried over to the table. She wiped the sweat glistening on her brow with the sleeve of her shirt and pulled out her notepad.

“I’m so sorry about the wait, but I wanted to take care of Dr. Adeji personally. My name is Oumou. What can I get you all?”

“It's so good to see you, Oumou. How is your father doing?” Dr. Adeji asked politely.

Oumou smiled back, considerate of Dr. Adeji's inquiry about her dad. “He’s maintaining. Back on his feet and out in the fields, against your direction. But you can’t tell that old pack mule a damn thing.” She chuckled softly.

“All parents get that way when they hit a certain age. I suppose it's just part of the life cycle.” Dr. Adeji replied. She glanced down at the menu for a moment or two before looking back up at Oumou with a decision in mind. “Some lemonade sounds good in this heat. Light on the ice, though, please.”

Janay realized that Oumou’s eyes were on her, and she slid her own menu closer towards her chest. “Hmmm, I think an ice-cold beer would do me a couple of favors. I’ll take whatever you guys got back there in your cooler.”

Ezekiel handed back the drink menu to Oumou after she finished scribbling down Janay’s selection. “A ginger ale, no ice for me, if you have any. If not, then just some coffee.”

“I’ll be back in just a moment. I promise not to have you waiting.” Oumou hurried off to the kitchens to grab their drinks, leaving the trio to resume their conversation.

“Is every day at the facility like this morning?” Janay asked. She picked through the cafe’s selection of entrees while waiting for an answer from Dr. Adeji.

“Most days are a lot worse, and then some.” She nodded her head to underline her point when she saw Janay look up at her with her mouth agape in shock. “Night shifts get hit the hardest, mostly because that’s where we are understaffed both inside and with the guards. Things inside the city can get wild enough when the sun goes down. But a lot of villages and settlements across the desert are attacked overnight. Leaving us to deal with the fallout.”

“Who the hell is rolling around all night attacking civilians? And why? Sounds like a bunch of bastards to me.” Janay grumbled loudly. Her ill-intended words drew a few curious and even upset glares from some of the men at the tables and bar near them.

Dr. Adeji chuckled dryly. “Take your pick. We don’t have much protection. Bandits and insurgents are charging fees to fight for our ‘liberation’. The stress is never-ending, and people suffer. We are very fortunate to have the two of you here to help us, even if it is only short-term.”

Oumou returned with their drinks and took their food orders. The kitchen was not only fast, but every bit as advertised by Dr. Adeji. Janay was far too busy enjoying her plate of Yassa Poulet to talk. She resigned herself to listening and nodding along as Dr. Adeji continued talking about life in Mali, while Ezekiel enjoyed the rack of grilled lamb that he’d chosen for his lunch. Janay had chastised him for being a typical Michigander when it came to enjoying lamb. Dr. Adeji seemed to enjoy their company, and Ezekiel was glad he got her away from the hospital for a brief time.  

As he was ruminating on how worn out he figured Dr. Adeji was, based on her discussion with Janay, the entire cafe seemed to shake. Loud French rap music blared from at least half a block away from the building, yet Ezekiel could see the window pane of the cafe shaking slightly from the sound. Janay’s fork clattered on the table once she saw Dr. Adeji and Ezekiel joining the rest of the cafe patrons in turning towards the front windows. As she was barely 5’5”, Janay got on her knees in the booth next to Ezekiel in order to peer over the top of it. She, along with everyone else in the cafe, was eager or anxious to see what the source of the disturbance was.

Ezekiel looked over to his left when he saw Oumou gasp, nearly dropping the tray of food she was carrying. He sprang out of his seat and caught the tray before its contents could slide over the edge. He eased it onto the table next to them, then turned his focus onto the young waitress to figure out what had caused her sudden outburst. “Are you alright–”

He stopped short of asking as she slowly backed away towards the kitchen. She finally shook her head in response to the question that he’d begun to ask. Ezekiel turned to follow her gaze as the music grew ominously louder and louder. The pair of worn-down, clearly stolen Egyptian army-surplus Humvees rolled into the middle of the square. Both of the Humvees blasting music were packed with young men, none of them older than twenty-one or two, Ezekiel guessed, all of them wearing low-grade body armor and carrying various assault rifles. Ezekiel snatched up his cane and moved through the restaurant to get a better look at the militants filling the square.

“Stay here.” He turned back to tell Janay and Dr. Adeji. 

Janay looked at him with stunned disbelief. He knew she was wondering what he could possibly think he was doing, but he wasn’t quite sure himself yet either, and he didn’t have time for an argument with her about it.

The crowds and vendors on the streets seemed to scatter and clear out as a handful of the young, armed militants, with faces covered in scarves, bandannas, and dark sunglasses, piled out of the vehicle and into the street. Giving credence to the bad feeling he had stirring in his chest, Ezekiel watched as one of the young men smiled wickedly and stared directly at the cafe storefront. Ezekiel grimaced as his mind put together what was likely about to transpire. He whipped his head around and found Oumou cowering next to the bar, near the kitchens and his table. 

He hurried back over to her, ignoring the worried looks he was getting from Dr. Adeji and Janay. He grabbed Oumou by the shoulders more forcefully than he would have liked, but time was critical. “Miss, is there a back way out of this building?!”

“Uh…um, through the kitchens. But–”

Ezekiel whipped back towards Janay and Dr. Adeji, fear beginning to clutch at his heart. “Both of you, follow me. Oumou, you too!”

Ezekiel glanced towards the square just in time to see one of the young militants being handed an RPG. He cackled with his buddy about some dumb joke and promptly aimed the weapon at the cafe.

“What is going–”

“Just go, Janay! Move!”

The group was halfway through the kitchen, ignoring shouts from the cooks and staff. Ezekiel spotted the door ahead and yelled for Oumou to go ahead when the explosion rocked the building. Janay snapped up first, her head ringing like Sunday church bells. The kitchen was filled with nothing but smoke and a few flickering flames as far as her eyes could see in front of her. Realizing her legs seemed just fine, she gingerly pulled herself to her knees first, then her feet, with the help of the wall next to her.

She spotted something moving on the floor beside her and realized it was Dr. Adeji. Janay reached down quickly as she could, with her head still throbbing, to help the doctor off the floor. She noticed immediately that there was blood seeping from her forehead. Vaya put a hand to her forehead where she could feel the wet, warm substance dripping down the side of her face. There would be plenty of time to tend to her own injuries; right now, both she and Janay were just concerned about where Dr. Drake and Oumou had gone after the rocket hit. 

“Are you alright?” Vaya asked her new friend. Janay shook away the question dismissively. Her own aches and pains were an afterthought at the moment.

“I’ll be fine.” 

Janay stared back towards the front of the cafe. All she could see beyond the kitchen was thick, acrid smoke and flames dancing in the distance like diamonds on a chain. She heard the faint sounds of screams as bullets tore through concrete.

“There are people out there who will need our help. We need to get as many people off the streets as we can.” Vaya’s suggestion was cut short as a meat freezer door swung open behind them, banging loudly against the wall behind it.

They both breathed a welcome sigh of relief as Dr. Drake emerged from the freezer. Oumou was next to him with her arm slung around his shoulder. He walked her over to Vaya and Janay while helping her nurse the injury she was struggling with. “All of you, get back to the hospital. I’ll tend to everyone here I can. This is only going to escalate; I’m sure of it.” He passed Oumou over to Janay and Dr. Adeji, then snatched up his cane off the dusty floor. Janay stared at him in disbelief as he walked past them both. 

“What do you think you’re going to do? They have a small army out there, Ezekiel!” Janay told him.

Ezekiel glanced back over his shoulder at her as he stood in the archway that led back into the destroyed cafe. “I’ll figure it out. But I need you to do what you do best. What we came here to do: save lives, help people who need it.”

He turned back towards the acrid black smoke spilling from the main dining area and disappeared out of sight. Despite the nagging gut feeling that he was making a dangerous mistake, Janay felt Dr. Adeji's calm hand on her shoulder. She realized that their only course of action was to get out of the thick of the fray and back to the hospital, as Ezekiel had told them. Oumou was in no condition to move around too much. Her ankle was beginning to swell up; Janay figured she must have twisted it when the blast hit.

They helped Oumou out the back door of the cafe and exited into complete pandemonium. Sirens could be heard blaring down the block past them. Bullets echoed in every direction, followed by screams that rippled through the afternoon air. 

“C’mon. We can stick to the back alleys. We should be able to stay out of sight. Keep your heads low, just in case. The last thing you want to catch in Africa is a stray bullet.” Janay nodded and followed after her while keeping her warning at the front of her mind.

Ezekiel sprinted through the burning cafe. His eyes focused on the first Humvee as the trio of insurgents who had hung back to man the vehicle enjoyed their comrades' antics. He pulled the Glock G-19, which no one knew he occasionally kept on him, out of his waistband before running through what was left of the front doors of the cafe. He dropped his cane to the ground momentarily and took aim at the driver behind the wheel of the Humvee. 

A police SUV screeches to a halt directly in front of the Humvee, causing Ezekiel to hesitate momentarily. The pair of officers hopped out of the Humvee and shouted at the insurgents in French to get out of their vehicles and drop their weapons. Ezekiel watched as a troop of insurgents exited a building that they had just terrorized and saw the standoff. One of them cackled loudly before raising his rifle. The rest of them followed suit, aiming directly at the outgunned and outnumbered cops. The cops quickly realized their dire situation and lowered their weapons. 

“We don’t recognize that dog talk, you hear me?” One of the men near the first Humvee yelled at the terrified officers. Ezekiel recognized the common street tongue of the city, which was an offshoot of the Songhai language. “Tell your god that was your mistake if you see him.”

Ezekiel watched in horror as the insurgents all opened fire on the pair of cops and their vehicle, riddling them all with bullets for the sheer sport of it. He saw them cackle with unmitigated glee at the bodies strewn in the middle of the street, kicking them out of the way as if they were animals that were hit by a car. “Rascadi, what you want us to do now?” One of the men by the Humvee called out to another.

The man Ezekiel saw, who must have been running the show, whom the ruthless insurgent had called ‘Rascadi ’, looked in the opposite direction up the road. “Keep the authorities busy. We will go collect it while there is less opposition.” Rascadi turned to the rest of his group that had exited the storefront and jerked his head towards the Humvee up the street. “To the library. Bayat, you drive. Alou, I want you on the gunner. In case we get any soldiers trying to play hero on the way.”

Rascadi and his group piled into their Humvee and sped down the block like hell on wheels. The remaining group did as they were instructed. They sprayed bullets in every direction, at anyone still stupid enough, in their eyes, to be on the street. But they hadn’t spotted Ezekiel, which was their mistake. While they were playing their sadistic games, Ezekiel managed to make his way to their Humvee and slide under it. He pulled his pistol once more, and once he got a clean shot at one of them, he fired, popping him clean in the back of the head.

The shot jerked the insurgent forward, sending him face-first into the dusty street. The man should count himself lucky, Ezekiel thought to himself. His bullets held a synthesized chemical compound that merely knocked their targets out for 12-15 hours, depending on their size. It was far more than that bastard deserved, but he was a physician first and foremost, and he only saved lives, never took them. By the time the others had realized one of them had fallen, Ezekiel slid back from under the Humvee and cold-cocked the driver before yanking him from behind the wheel.

Ezekiel ducked down in the driver’s seat as bullets clanged off the Humvee he’d decided to hastily commandeer. He sped through the streets of Timbutku, honking his vehicle's horn to clear his path. His cane sat in the passenger seat next to him as he weaved around pedestrians and abandoned carts left in the midst of the pandemonium. He finally spotted the other Humvee up ahead and floored the gas.

“Rascadi,” Alou called from the gunner seat in the Humvee behind him. “I think we got a problem. Rascadi glanced in his side mirror from the passenger seat and saw the other Humvee gaining on them with a man he didn’t recognize at the wheel.

To him, if it wasn’t the cops or the army, it didn’t matter. His only focus was on what they were sent to obtain. “So take care of it!” Rascadi spat.

Alou nodded and gripped the heavy artillery gun. He locked the Humvee in his sights and ripped bullets down the road.

 “Ah, fiddlesticks…” Ezekiel mumbled before yanking the wheel sideways just in the nick of time. Alou didn’t let up his assault, yanking the gun towards the Humvee and opening fire again. Ezekiel stopped and yanked right this time, sliding behind a derelict market stall for cover.

He let out a short sigh of relief before he spotted the man called Rascadi hanging out of the passenger side window. It wasn’t until he had fired that Ezekiel realized another rocket was heading straight towards him. He knew there was only one option left, and he dove out of the Humvee just as the rocket struck. Rascadi slid back into his seat and passed the weapon back to one of his men. 

“You want something done right, do it yourself, huh?” He shook his head, annoyed.

Ezekiel dragged himself out of the dirt and snatched his cane up. Frustrated after a sideways glance at the flaming Humvee, he continued after the insurgents on foot. He had heard them mention heading towards the library. He could only wonder what they could possibly be after by targeting one of the city’s crown jewels of culture. Whatever they were planning or after, Ezekiel felt that, at this point, it was his duty to intervene.

A couple of miles ahead, Rascadi’s group finally came to a stop in front of the Ahmed Baba Institute. It was weakly guarded, as he had predicted. His men wasted no time cutting down the trio of guards that tried to cut them off as they approached the entrance. They kicked in the doors and spewed bullets into the ceiling in order to assert dominance over the scholars inside. Rascadi swept through the great hall that served as the atrium of the renowned library. His men forced everyone in the room to their stomachs or knees at gunpoint. Rascadi climbed onto the stone slabs that made up the desk for the atrium clerks. He held his gun up and let off another handful of rounds until the chorus of screams and squeals from their hostages came to weak whimpers and sniffles.

He made sure that every eye in the room was focused solely on him before he spoke. “If you want to survive today, do exactly as you are told!” His voice boomed through the atrium. Fearful eyes stared up at him as his eyes swept over the room like a hunting hawk. “The library director– one of you will take me to him. Or we will start shooting everyone in this room one by one.” Alou cocked his rifle and pointed it at a young father and his children cowering in a corner nearby. Rascadi looked back and forth around the room. When no one moved, he turned to signal Alou to fire.

“WAIT! PLEASE!” A soft voice caught Rascadi’s attention. A young woman stood up among the hostages, her face and head covered, but he could see the kindness in her eyes even from where he stood. “I will take you there. Just don’t hurt anyone.”

Rascadi hopped down from the desk and walked over to the woman. He stood in front of her for a long moment. Staring into her eyes, he could see an innocence that refused to be shaken. He nodded. She would make do. He turned to the rest of his men. “Alou, Rahm, Trega, with me. The rest of you hold down the fort until we return, and make sure we have a clear path out of here.” His loyal group of makeshift soldiers nodded. They scurried around the lobby to take up guard spots of their choosing. Alou, Rahm, and Trega hurried to Rascadi’s side as he turned to the fearful young woman. “Lead the way.”

She nodded and turned around, saying a small prayer that she would not be shot in the back, and marched forward. Rascadi led his group carefully behind her. Ezekiel slipped inside just in time to see them disappear between a set of stone doors at the other end of the atrium. He hurried behind a pillar to keep out of sight when one of Rascadi’s men turned in his direction. He needed to be as discreet as he could—a commotion would only further endanger lives. He crept from behind the pillar, past a soldier who decided to light up a smoke in celebration of their success thus far. His eyes bulged as Ezekiel gripped him in a tight chokehold, applying just enough pressure to his windpipe as he gently lowered him to the floor.

“Heyi! Wenza ntoni kanye kanye?” 

Damn, Ezekiel thought to himself as he released the unconscious soldier and stood up slowly. He turned towards the armed man approaching him with his rifle trained on him. He waited until he was within range before firing his cane’s grapple hook. The wiring cable wrapped itself around the man’s neck, and Ezekiel yanked him forward. The soldier smashed face-first into the pillar and dropped next to the other man. Ezekiel looked momentarily pleased with himself until a spatter of rifle fire tore through the column behind him. He scurried out of harm’s way, diving behind the atrium desk as another soldier hunted after him. He clutched his pistol tightly as he listened to the booted footsteps moving towards his position and the angry yelling between the young militia members left to hold down the area.

“Who was that guy?” He heard one of them yell to another in Xhosa, a language he thought was not predominant in this region of the continent.

“Didn’t look like a cop or soldier; must be some damn fool who wants to get his head blown off,” His comrade replied, annoyed.

The sound of rushing, churning waters could be heard from inside the sprawling castle ruins, even though the group trudging through the grounds was a few miles from the coast. A pasty-skinned, lanky man with dirty, thick blonde dreadlocks lit himself a White Maple cigarette as he roamed through what was left of the main floor. His thick, rubbery combat boots clashed violently with his Attack Attack t-shirt and skin-tight black jeans. Behind him, a swarm of nasty-looking men and women, all of them carrying British Army standard assault rifles–purchased on the black market–and dressed head to toe in black. What made the sight that much more unsettling amongst the medieval ruins was that all of them, save Zack, were wearing frightening, twisted Halloween masks of different animals

Zack, the only name he gave to bottom-ranking members of the communion like the ones with him, spotted the staircase he was looking for according to the directions he’d been given. He turned to the group following him and jerked his head towards the stairs, a shifty, twisted grin spreading across his face. He swung his head forward, the silver chain with a lone matching silver ring swinging around his neck with the motion. He marched up the stairs confidently, not a care in the world except claiming what he’d trekked across country after country for. He feared nothing; he knew that his friends had paid the government contacts here a hefty sum to keep any authorities away from Castle Rising as he conducted his search.

He moved through the upstairs corridor, briefly looking out one of the broken windows. The dark waters rushed in the not-too-far distance. Zack couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the moon as it hit the Wash. It was the perfect night for him to obtain another piece that would bring the communion one step closer to the world they were building. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, holding up a fist to halt his group in position behind him. They halted on the dime in perfect unison, well-trained as they were.

 Zack studied the knight’s armor, still erected in the ruins. To the untrained eye, it was just another part of this beloved tourist site in the English countryside. But Zack knew its true purpose. He reached towards the knight’s arm, shifting it downward until it was straight at its side. He stepped back as the wall behind the knight shifted aside, revealing a passage that had been hidden previously. Zack’s heart raced with excitement as he turned to his group.

“Wait here.”

The well-trained and heavily armed group at his command did as they were instructed. Each of them took up strategic positions in the hallway, giving them a tactical advantage in securing the area. Zack paid them little attention as his focus was held rapt on the door at the other end of the hidden passage. The communion had spent years cross-referencing whether the rumors were true that a research team managed to recover a piece of King John’s lost treasure. As he reached the dated door with a wrought-iron handle, Zack licked his lips in anticipation. Just the thought of the power they would be closer to once they obtained the artifact on the other side made him nearly lustful.

The door opened with a loud creak as he pulled on its handle. Inside were two freshly lit torches on opposite walls. A chest sat in the center of the room, but as Zack approached it, the lascivious smile was wiped from his face, replaced by an ugly scowl. He knelt in front of the chest, inspecting the open lock hanging on it. The heavy steel bolt lock hadn’t been cut and showed no sign of aggressive force applied to it. This had been picked open, and by someone with prodigious skill in the method, he reasoned.

Zack tossed the chest lid open, hoping the assumption creeping into his gut was terribly wrong. As he reached inside for the yellow sticky note, the only thing in the chest, he realized that, unfortunately, his assumption was spot on. He held the note in front of him as a fury built up inside his chest.

DOWN LOW, YOU KNOW THE REST

-Professor E. Drake

Zack bellowed in pure anger as he realized the persistent thorn in his side had struck once more. He stormed out of the passage and back into the hallway, his family of soldiers swarming to his side at the sight of his fury. 

“He’s still in the castle. Find him!”

The armed acolytes scurried away to follow his orders. Zack tried to calm himself down with a few quick breaths. He refused to be beaten by that bastard, not when he had come this far.

Unbeknownst to Zack and his crew, the man he was searching for pulled his University of Michigan National Champions letterman jacket tighter over his shoulders, and his old English ‘D’ Detroit Tigers hat lower over his eyes. Tucked inside his jacket was the pure, golden cross with beautiful sapphires encrusted down the middle that Zack sought so dearly. Professor Ezekiel Drake peeked down the corridor of the third-floor room he’d been biding his time in. Realizing it was momentarily clear, he stepped out and hurried down it towards the stone bridge connecting to the eastern portion of the bailey.

Once Ezekiel reached the bridge, he could see a pair of armed men in wolf and pig masks, respectively, marching around the keep below. He took a deep breath and, slowly and carefully, tiptoed his way across the bridge, hoping they would be too focused on clearing the lower floor to look in his direction. He was halfway to the other side when a slow, methodical clap echoed through the walls of the keep. Professor Drake turned around slowly as a grimace formed on his face. He saw Zack enter the room below, a handful more of the animal-masked soldiers flanking him, each of their beady eyes turning in his direction, along with their leader. 

“I should have known you’d be here already, slinking around like a common rat,” Zack told him.

Ezekiel smiled and shrugged dismissively. “I like to consider myself more of a worker ant. I figured the circles you walk in were more partial to rodents.”

Zack smirked at Ezekiel’s wisecrack, though he was far from pleased to see the doctor walking through the remains of the castle. He could see that Ezekiel was favoring his left side, as if he was protecting something, and his smile became that much more sinister. 

“Why don’t you toss down the relic, and I’ll tell them where to find your body. Instead of desecrating it and throwing it into the Wash as you rightly deserve.”

“Gee, that sounds like a swell idea and all, but I think this piece is going to look wonderful in the museum collection I’m putting together. But feel free to stop by and see it when we’re open. We’ll do half-off entry fees for sociopathic cult members.”

Professor Drake's clever reply wiped the smile off Zack’s face for the second time that night. In its place was a furious glare of pure loathing. He turned to his animal family, no longer interested in any sort of dialogue with the man who had taken what was rightfully the communion’s. 

“End him, then bring his carcass down here so I can piss on it.” 

Ezekiel’s eyes went wide as he heard each of the Sig Sauers the dead-eyed acolytes were carrying aim at him. He didn’t wait for what came next as a flurry of gunfire erupted in his direction, tearing up the stone ruins and bridge. Ezekiel crossed into the eastern bailey as he could hear Zack’s orders for them to get after him echoing through the castle. He ducked through an empty window chasm and slid downward into a lower courtyard. Unfortunately, he landed right between two acolytes who were guarding the room. Each of them, one wearing a raccoon mask and the other what seemed to be a fox, Ezekiel couldn’t quite tell in the darkness, turned slowly towards him. They stared at Ezekiel, confused as to how he could have gotten so unlucky.

“You guys wouldn’t happen to have the fastest route out of here, would you?” 

He gave them a friendly smile, holding his hands up as if he were surrendering. They hesitated over whether to shoot him or simply grab him, a gamble Ezekiel was taking to get him out of this particular jam. 

Once he saw the sliver of an opening his impromptu appearance had created, Ezekiel dropped his hands quickly and rocked each of the dumbfounded acolytes with a left and right cross. As the one in the raccoon mask tried to get back to his feet, Professor Drake snatched up his dropped Sig MCX and smacked him silly across the face with it. He stepped over both their bodies and looked around the courtyard to see which way he should go. There were a myriad of options for him, but he gritted his teeth as he knew almost all of them would only lead him to further danger. He yanked a two-way radio out of his back pocket. Drake waited rather impatiently for the static to clear before yelling into it, finally deciding as he sprinted through an open doorway to his immediate left. “Adela, how far out are you?”

“I’ll be at the docks in less than two minutes. How are you faring?” She chortled back over the air.

Ezekiel sprinted through another stone-arched corridor, spotting the entrance hall from above. A sense of relief briefly washed over him. That was, until a trio of communion acolytes turned down the very same hall he was standing in at the opposite end. 

“Oh, you know, could be worse.” He replied dryly.

The moment they trained their weapons on him, Professor Drake knew he had only one option left, which he exercised as he leaped over the railing and out of the line of fire. He rolled with his landing to reduce the impact on his usually aching knees and joints. He popped to his feet faster than he’d expected to, just as Zack's followers swung their rifles towards the hall and let loose. Professor Drake scrambled for cover as bullets rained down around him. Somehow, he narrowly avoided being torn apart and dove into a spiraling staircase. He grimaced, realizing he had been nicked across the arm by a bullet, but he was thankful that it seemed to be a flesh wound. He’d tend to it once he got on the boat; the adrenaline pumping through his veins was substantial enough that the pain was a dull afterthought at the moment. 

Bullets sprayed into the staircase as he heard footsteps pounding down the stone as they continued their chase. He dashed up the staircase, finding himself back in what once served as the guest waiting area of the castle, but was now an observatory for tourists and civilians to enjoy the view. What seemed to be a dead end was, for him, the way he’d planned to exit. He snatched up his cane, its base made of rare Acajou wood that helped when his knee pain was flaring up more than usual. It was practically on fire now, giving him more trouble than the wound on his arm, in fact. He was thankful to have the relief of pressure the cane gave him as he hurried towards the window he’d smashed open an hour ago.

He almost didn’t see the figure shifting in the shadows until it swung its broad sword directly at Ezekiel’s head. He ducked out of the way just in time as he saw the glint of steel in the moonlight hitting the room. The one-handed, double-edged blade clinked off the stone wall, sending sparks flying. Its wielder, who was dressed in lightweight armor that made him resemble a modern-day knight, swung the sword with a grace and skill that Professor Ezekiel would have marveled at if the man wasn’t trying to murder him. Drake jumped backward just in time as the angry knight assassin swung the sword in a wide arc, attempting to disembowel him.

Ezekiel realized that his ride must have been waiting for him, and he didn’t have any further essential time to waste. More importantly, this wasn’t exactly a fight he was sure he could win, and it was certainly one he couldn’t give the rest of Zack’s men the precious moments to pin him down here. As the angry, bloodlust-driven knight, whom Ezekiel recognized as a notable assassin for hire across Europe, stalked towards him, he made a rash decision he hoped would pay off. But first, he needed to keep his attacker off balance. He yanked the blade out of the wooden sheath, revealing the weapon he had hidden inside his cane. He knew it was no match for the templar sword that his opponent was wielding with such deft skill, but along with the Acajou-crafted cane, he would be able to fend off the heavier weapon. At least, that and the second half of his plan were what he was wagering his life on.

“You’ve got quite the reputation. I wouldn’t have expected you to fall in line with a man like that.”

Ezekiel tossed the backhanded compliment as the swordsmen tried to close the gap between them. He was bigger than Ezekiel by an inch or two and had at least fifteen pounds on him. That was saying quite a bit, considering Professor Drake’s extensive athletic background. Given that he had the size advantage and a stronger blade, he was trying to get in closer to press his advantage. Ezekiel could hear voices and footsteps approaching. Zack’s acolytes would be in the entrance courtyard soon enough.

“He was able to pay my fee, plus a bonus if I take your head,” The swordsmen replied with a menacing rumble. “The only thing I fall in line behind is the balance in my account.”

Professor Drake sighed, almost condescendingly. “And that’s the problem with you, and the rest of the world, I’m afraid. But unfortunately, not one I can solve today. One step at a time, I suppose.”

The swordsman sneered. Sick of Professor Drake’s snide preening, he lunged from his stance, striking with the intent to cleave him in two. Drake stepped aside just in time, then rolled away to create distance between himself and the hired assassin, who was merely extra muscle on Zack's expedition. That drew an inner sigh of relief from Ezekiel as he popped to one knee and glanced behind him, listening to the swordsman curse in frustration at his missed strike.

Footsteps thundered through the entrance corridor, and Ezekiel knew it was time to make himself scarce. He was only thankful that the terrifying knight cosplayer who had attacked him was not a devout member of Zack’s cult. They wielded enough power, and Drake didn’t want to see them add to their ranks. 

“You fight like a coward!” The swordsman snarled.

“I’m a doctor, sir. Not a warrior,” Professor Drake replied matter-of-factly as he sprinted across the room and dove through the broken window while sheathing his blade inside his cane.

As he fell towards the ground, he pressed a button on the cane’s shaft, firing a hook from the handle. The hook cinched onto the window pane, allowing Ezekiel to lower himself without harm. He retracted the hook and immediately hauled it across the grounds. By the time he made it to the ATV he had hidden behind some shrubbery just twenty feet from the castle, he could already hear the sounds of engines gunning to life. He hopped on the four-wheeler and tore off across the damp grass. By the time he could see the waters of the Wash as he flew over a hill, Zack and his so-called family were hot on his trail inside a trio of farm trucks. Bullets ripped through the air and across the grass near him. He thrust the handlebars as far back as they would go, stretching the ATV's engine to its absolute limit.

He’d bitten off more than he could chew, mistiming how long it would take him to comb the castle for the lone relic recovered from King John’s lost baggage train after centuries. He’d underestimated how much power Zack and that band of freaks he rode with wielded, and just how many guns he had trying to hunt him across the grounds. He ducked down lower on the ATV, his face close to the handlebars as the wind whipped in his face. Ezekiel spotted the dock and knew he only had to make it to the water to be home free. One of the trucks caught up to him and swerved towards the four-wheeler. Ezekiel slammed on the brakes, just managing to avoid being smashed, and maneuvered deftly around the back of the truck. In a spontaneous move, he fired the grapple hook from his cane at the tailgate and used the truck’s momentum to slingshot him forward. Bullets shredded both rear tires of the ATV the moment it hit the old wooden deck, but it didn’t matter, as he had gained more than enough speed to pull off what he had in mind. The four-wheeler shot off the deck as bullets sprayed past Ezekiel, just as he leaped off the vehicle and plunged into the cold depths of the Wash.

He came up and took a deep breath, just in time to see the rope being tossed to him from the speedboat. “Hurry up! These bastards are mad!” 

He could hear Adela shouting to him as she got back behind the wheel of the boat. He snagged the rope and wrapped it twice around his wrist.

“Just go!” He shouted back. She didn’t waste a moment gunning the boat as hard as she could away from the shoreline.

Back on the dock, Zack leaped out of one of the trucks, watching as the speedboat disappeared into the darkness across the water. “The next time I cross paths with Dr. Drake, it’ll be me stepping over his corpse. He’ll make a fine sacrifice to the communion one day.”

Drake finally managed to climb into the boat and fell into the chair next to Adela. Completely exhausted, he could barely hold himself upright. Adela kept looking over at him impatiently, less concerned about his well-being since he seemed to be in one piece. “Well?! Did ya get it?!”

Ezekiel looked over at her lazily, a grin spreading over his face while he unzipped his jacket. He pulled out the beautiful golden cross, letting the moonlight hit it as he turned it over in his hand.

Title: The Black Communion

Genre: Thriller/Horror

Number of pages: 49

Price: Looking for funding for myself to shoot as my debut, have co-written two previous features with David Kirkman(Wokenation Studios)

Cast #: 6 main characters

Logline: When Detroit’s privileged are slaughtered in a string of ritual murders, a relentless FBI agent must join forces with an estranged vigilante to stop a centuries-old cult from completing the blood ritual it believes will grant them a new world to rule.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1EZEaasUSrnpYapU0vqvoyiZNeZBEoD0y/view?usp=sharing

When Detroit’s privileged are slaughtered in a string of ritual murders, a relentless FBI agent must join forces with an estranged vigilante to stop a centuries-old cult from completing the blood ritual it believes will grant them a new world to rule.

Planning this to be my directorial debut as I have only co-written two features to this point. Please let me know what you guys think or if this will work on a shoestring budget(and I mean REAL shoestring)

49 Pages

“That’s all the time we have for today,” He told them as he glanced across the auditorium. Feet shuffled and scuffed as the students hurried out of the room to their next obligations. “Please be sure to review what we discussed on trauma and emergency care in the previous two decades. They will be crucial on the midterm.”

Ezekiel hoped his warning had not fallen on inattentive ears as the classroom was soon emptied. He yanked open his briefcase on his desk, stuffing the remaining papers he still had to grade inside with a sigh. Today seemed longer than usual, and for him, it was still far from over. He needed to knock out the stack of term papers he’d just crammed into his briefcase, and there was still a matter of outlining his lecture for Monday. Professor Drake pulled his tweed suit coat off the chair next to him and snatched up his briefcase.

He made it to the other side of the George Gervin Community College campus, where his office resided. He slipped inside and shut the door tightly behind him. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw that the only person in the place was the grad student who worked as his assistant. 

“Any messages for me, Corey?” He asked the young man sitting behind the small desk.

“Quite a few, actually, professor. Hol on, I had them in order of importance, then you know how stuff gets in here when this phone’s ringing off the hook.” Corey shuffled rapidly through a college-branded notepad for what he had scribbled. “Okay, Dr. Awad called, said day shift got smacked something brutal and they could really use your help if you can make it in early.”

Professor Drake hung his suit coat up on the rack near the door and turned to his secretary with a heavy sigh. “Sounds like it’s going to be a long night for me. What else you got?”

Corey flipped through the notepad to the next page, then snapped his fingers as he remembered jotting this message down when it came in. 

“Some lady named Adela called for you? Wanted to make sure you still had ‘The Cross’, and wanted to let you know that funding was approved, so she’ll be in the States next week. She sounded kind of Scottish.”

Drake chuckled at Corey’s observation. “That’s because she’s from Scotland,” he informed the student employee with a nod.

His hand fell on the knob of the door to his office and turned. He walked inside and was immediately taken aback by the honey-blonde-haired, dark-skinned woman sitting casually in the chair on the other side of his desk. He glanced back at Corey and raised one eyebrow in confusion, pointing inside his office, waiting for an explanation.

Corey snapped his fingers again, recalling what he’d forgotten to mention. 

“Oh yeah! You got a visitor!” 

Drake couldn’t do more than shake his head at his occasionally inept assistant.

“Hold all my calls,” He instructed the young man before stepping inside the office and closing the door behind him. Ezekiel turned back towards the woman who had been waiting for him. She got up from the chair to greet him as he walked over to her, extending his hand first. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long. My lecture got a bit ahead of itself this afternoon.”

“Just long enough, I’m afraid,” She replied curtly as she shook his hand. “But your reputation precedes you, as I’m sure you’re aware of, so I was expecting to be here a while.” They shook hands, and she took her seat again while he dropped into his comfortable desk chair. “My name is Naomi Light. I am a representative for the National Museum of African American History in–”

“D.C., I’ve visited quite a few times. You guys have an absolutely astounding collection.” Ezekiel cut her off; she was clearly surprised by how well-informed he seemed. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Ms. Light?”

Ms. Light looked somewhat taken aback by the sudden shift in the conversation. However, she rolled with it, as she was more than prepared for the verbal jousting she figured might break out between her and the professor because of why she was there.

“I’m aware it's a bit impromptu and largely presumptuous, but I was hoping to pepper you with a few questions about your little vacation last weekend.”

Professor Drake leaned back slightly in his chair, his fingers interlocking as he studied her for a moment and considered her question. “Not too many people are privy to the fact that I was out of town. Forgive me, miss, if I’m a bit curious as to how a museum administrator, impressive as said museum may be, would come across that information?”

“That’s really not pertinent to this discussion, I’m afraid,” She replied after shaking her head, a smile breaking out on her face. She was enjoying having the upper hand in this exchange, Drake reasoned. He knew that she had prepared herself well for this particular interaction. “What is pertinent is how you managed to discover the only piece of treasure recovered from King John’s baggage train?”

“I was helping out at St. Vincent’s emergency room last weekend in Toledo,” Ezekiel lied plainly. “I didn’t feel like making the drive back up 275, so I decided to crash at my cousin’s place. If you’re wondering how the museum I’m opening up a few blocks from here managed to snag such a coveted piece of history for our opening exhibits, I have a curator by the name of Adela whom I can provide you with contact information.”

“How about we cut the slogging of bullshit in my direction and be frank with each other, professor?” Ms. Light cut across him abruptly. She had had enough of the pleasantries and dancing around the reason for her visit to the Midwest.

“I agree. I do have a shift I have to get to across town here in the next twenty minutes,” Drake replied blankly, continuing his charade of ignorance. 

Ms. Light straightened her posture in the stiff-backed chair and narrowed her eyes across the room at the tenured community college professor.

“Then you can cut the long-winded humble scholar routine and tell me how a man such as yourself not only came about your information on the artifact but managed to track it down halfway across the world before other interested parties?” 

There was an air of demand in the question that Ms. Light shot back. Each of them stared at one another for a rather heated moment, letting her question linger in the air. Finally, Professor Drake cleared his throat and pushed his chair away from his desk before getting up. He straightened his bowtie once more and gave her a faux, sorrowful look.

 “I truly regret I couldn’t be of much help with what you were here to inquire about. If you’d like Adela’s number, you can grab it from the young man out there,” he said, giving her a warm smile that she didn’t return before walking from behind the desk and swiftly back out of his office, closing the door behind him.

Corey looked up from the comic book he had been knee-deep in as the professor passed his desk. He looked back at the closed office door, realizing that his guest was still inside. “What was that about?”

Professor Drake snatched his suitcoat back off the rack and threw it over his shoulders. “I need you to start vetting who you let in here,” he told him, shaking his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” The professor slipped out the door without another word, leaving his assistant quite dumbfounded.

Zack turned his radio down, which had been blaring Title Fight’s last album, as he sped his Ram 2500 truck into the golf course parking lot. It was the last place he wanted to be, and he was only there to give news he knew wouldn’t be well received. Still, he ignored the looks he got from some snobs dressed in Ralph Lauren and Prada as they rode by in their golf carts. The pair of men he was there to see were standing at the edge of the driving range, whacking their way through two buckets full of balls. The shorter of the pair, wearing khaki jeans and a white polo, spotted Zack first. He gave his golfing partner a nod, and the partner stopped mid-swing and looked over as Zack approached them. 

“Please tell me you managed to track it down again.” The shorter man pleaded with an exasperated look in Zack’s direction.

“I know where the bastard who took it is; he’s nothing special,” Zack explained, bitterness in his tone. “But I know he’s not keeping it on him.”

“So long story short, you still got nothing.” The taller, blonde-haired man holding a Miller High Life shot back angrily.

“What I got is a pivot, one that should satisfy the Black Bride’s needs for the ritual, Billy,” Zack replied just as tersely.

Billy looked at his golfing partner for a moment, then back at Zack while taking a swig of his beer. “What kind of pivot are you talking about?”

“Sabrina and I will handle it. We’ve already brought in a freelance group to do the heavy lifting.” Zack explained to them. 

He had to fight to hold back the devious smirk threatening to spread across his face as he thought of the treacherous black ops group his soon-to-be father-in-law had suggested he hire. This time, he wasn’t going to leave anything to chance.

“Yeah, you mean like you handled shit in England?” The shorter man spoke up again. “I don’t buy it. I get it, Zack, you’re one of the Gilded Hand. But you’re a class-A fuck-up. If you weren’t fucking Sabrina, at this point I’m not sure–”

“Watch your tongue, Tucker, you know I’ll cut it out.” Zack hissed the threat, silencing Tucker on the spot. His eyes cut between both of them as he allowed his anger to boil down before he said something else that may cross a line. “I’ve already informed Jade of my plans. And I’ll return with a sacrifice as well. If you have an issue with any of this, take it up with her.”

“We don’t have any more time to waste, Zack. You should understand this,” Billy chimed in again. “The Black Bride’s hour is close at hand. Missteps like these are not affordable.”

“I’ll be in contact once I’ve landed where we’re having our little field trip. Put your worries aside for now and know I am rectifying the issue. Quickly,” Zack promised them.

Professor Drake, now Dr. Drake, while under the roof of Washtenaw West Emergency Hospital, assessed the severity of the bleeding in the patient lying on the table in front of him and his staff. He assessed the situation rapidly and decided on the best course of action. 

“Alright, we need to stabilize her neck until we confirm there are no spinal fractures.”

“I’ve got it,” Dr. Awad, his fellow attending doctor on duty, swooped in like the healthcare savior she was with foam blocks and restraints. She placed the blocks around the unconscious young woman’s skull before carefully and gently strapping them into place. “Any bleeding around the brain?”

“Heavy. Intubate, and let’s handle this right away so she can be prepped for upstairs. Someone page Dr. Garrison in surgery for me, please?” Ezekiel directed the second half of his instructions to a young Filipino nurse in the room.

“Dr. Garrison is on her way down, boss.” The nurse replied promptly while cleaning her hands with sanitizer.

“Okay, she’s intubated, but the left pupil is blown. We need to get the bleeding around the brain under control, now.” Dr. Awad made the stern suggestion while looking up across the table at Ezekiel. He nodded quickly in sound agreement with her assessment.

“Let’s couple that with a CT for her head and spine. And get me a running ETA on Garrison; we don’t have time to waste, or this woman loses her life.” Ezekiel instructed one of the medical aides as Nurse Lincoln assisted Dr. Awad with an IV.

“I figured we could start with about forty grams of mannitol. We can increase if needed based on the progress of the swelling going down.” Dr. Awad told him as she prepped the IV bag.

“Alright, I’ll monitor her pupils, Janay; keep an eye on her blood pressure. We don’t want it dropping too low,” He warned the Filipino nurse as she did as instructed once the IV drip was in place.

“Looks like the swelling is coming down steadily.” Dr. Awad informed the team surrounding the patient, just as an African-American doctor with long, greying braids entered the room.

“I’m always surprised you folks have the skills to keep these poor souls pumping till they can get on my table.” Dr. Garrison shook her head as she looked over the patient.

“Zeke, pressure’s dropping!” Janay warned him, causing him to snap his attention away from the verbal sparring match he was about to have with the head surgeon on duty.

“Damn, alright, let’s adjust her CO2 down a notch,” He instructed the nurse carefully. “Talk me through it.”

“O2 is holding, heart rate is one-thirty, blood pressure is on the rise.” Janay breathed a small sigh of relief after giving him the update. She glanced quickly at the mannitol IV bag. “ Bag’s halfway gone; what’s the move there, doc?”

“Finish the bag. And let’s get her to CT; we’re going to move her on one, as a team. Try to keep her as steady as possible.” He told them as each of the nurses and doctors in the room gathered around the patient.

“I’ve got the head,” Dr. Awad told him, moving him down next to the patient’s shoulder. She looked up at the team, meeting each of their eyes as she spoke. “Everyone ready?” She waited till she saw everyone nod or heard a confirmation before turning to Ezekiel. “On your call, doctor.”

“Alright, everyone. Ready, and lift.” 

They moved her on the stretcher, and Janay led a pair of nurses in rolling her to the CT room. Dr. Awad and Ezekiel went to follow when Dr. Garrison stepped briskly into their path.

“From what I’ve gathered, it’ll more than likely be an intracranial bleed shift. CT’s just a confirmation at this point. I’ve got it from here.” Garrison looked back at the busy ER for a moment before facing the doctors again. “I’m sure you two have got your hands full down here as always.”

She turned on a dime and marched out of the room, following in the direction the car crash victim had been taken. Ezekiel pulled off his gloves and tossed them into the trash. “I could use some air. How about you?”

The two of them found themselves out under the ambulance bay tarmac, the stiff August heat finally easing up at two a.m. Dr. Awad leaned against a pillar and pulled a pack of White Maples from the back pocket of her scrubs. Ezekiel watched her light up, staunchly ignoring the no-smoking sign painted on the pillar behind her. 

“How is it I’ve worked with you this long and didn’t realize you smoked?”

“You just weren’t paying close enough attention,” Dr. Awad replied with a smug smirk as she blew smoke out of the side of her mouth. “I don’t blame you; when we’re not knee-deep in some shit here, your mind always seems to be elsewhere.”

Ezekiel nodded, conceding her point. “I wonder what else I’ve missed around here when my head’s in the clouds?”

“Well, Dr. Garrison has always been a bit of a jerk. But she’s brilliant, so she gets away with it. But I’m pretty sure you were aware of that. And I think Janay is ready to get some charge nurse experience.”

“You don’t have to sell me on how great Nurse Lincoln is at her job,” Ezekiel assured her. “But as for being night shift charge, I’m going to suggest you take that suggestion up with Krista when she gets here in the morning.”

“I’d hate to subject Janay to her scrutiny; I’m not entirely sure whatever analysis she puts her through for the position would be exactly fair.” Dr. Awad’s admission drew a wry smirk from Ezekiel.

“Your concern is…sweet, Zayna. But Janay is a tough cookie; She can handle whatever Krista throws at her if she’s ready to be a charge nurse.” Ezekiel decided to shift the conversation to something Zayna usually avoided. “And how have you been?”

Awad raised both her eyebrows while dragging on her cigarette. She was taken aback by the question, mostly because she wasn’t used to anyone wondering how she was doing. “My mom’s been staying with me the last couple of weeks while they work on her house. It’s been going better than I expected, at least.”

Ezekiel chuckled at the expression on her face. “This place keeps you out of the house plenty, so that’s got to help. No wonder you’ve been working so many twelves.”

“Helps to be around people when you don’t have much of a social life outside of these walls,” she remarked, blowing another cloud of smoke into the night air. “Maybe that’s why my mom hasn’t been driving me insane. I needed the company and didn’t realize it.”

“I understand completely,” Ezekiel replied while nodding. “Hard to have much of a life for yourself when you work this job.”

“You seem to manage alright. Going from the college to here all week, I swear you must be part machine.”

Ezekiel shrugged off her compliment bashfully. “If your hypothesis is correct, then tonight sure is running my batteries down low.”

She sighed, then nodded in agreement with him. “It has been a night to remember. Or forget, depending on your perspective. Are you ever gonna tell me how your little trip to Europe went? What were you doing over there, anyway?”

“I just gave a lecture at a small college in the English countryside. I even got to see some castles,” Ezekiel smirked, remembering his eventful tour of Castle Rising and subsequent dive into the Wash. “It was a good time.”

She chuckled softly at his bright-eyed cheerfulness. She had no idea how he had so much energy at this time of night.

“There you two are; I’ve been looking all over for you.” They both whipped around as Nurse Lincoln came out to the ambulance bay.

“You couldn’t have been looking too hard,” Dr. Awad joked before kneeling to grind out her cigarette on the asphalt. “What’s up?”

Janay jerked her thumb back towards the ER. “Dr. Perez could use your help with something tricky he’s having trouble diagnosing. You tend to have an eye for the stranger cases.” 

Dr. Awad tossed her cigarette butt into the trash as she walked towards the nurse, her hands in her pockets. “That I do. Not sure if I should add an ‘unfortunately’ onto the end of that, though.” She replied with a weary sigh.

“You should not,” Ezekiel chimed in with a smirk. “It’s what makes you one of the best.”

Dr. Awad gave him a thankful smile before turning back to Nurse Lincoln. “Where’s Dr. Perez at?”

“She’s in number 8.” Dr. Awad nodded and walked briskly back inside the hospital. Ezekiel walked over to Janay, his ever-enthusiastic smile on his face.

“I have no idea how you can look that happy halfway through the shift from Satan himself,” Janay told him after rolling her eyes at his exuberance.

“What do you got for me, Nurse Lincoln?”

“Nothing to do with those magic hands of yours, I’m afraid, at least for the time being,” she explained, drawing a confused look from the resident doctor. “There is a woman and a couple of guys in very expensive suits here to see you. Said they’re from the National–”

“Museum of African-American History,” Ezekiel finished her sentence, much to her own surprise. “And here I was hoping they’d left town. Persistent bunch, aren’t they?”

“What would a bunch of museum officials want to talk to you about? And at this hour?” Janay looked at him, waiting for an explanation for this strange turn of events.

“Quite a bit, apparently. And I guess my humble way of telling them to go scratch earlier wasn’t effective enough, as this is quite inappropriate.” Ezekiel replied deftly.

He walked past Janay and headed inside the ER. She hurried behind him, eager to see how this would turn out. She’d rarely seen him as peeved as he seemed to be by the information she’d given him. Ezekiel stormed through the ER department, passing the nurses' station with Janay hot on his heels. 

“They’re in the conference room by the elevators. Only place I could think of stashing them so they were out of the way while I looked for you.” 

Ezekiel nodded as he busted a hard left at the end of the corridor. He picked up his pace as he hurried down the hallway, finding the lone conference room on the hospital's bottom floor. He spotted the handful of officials huddled inside the room around the long, oval-shaped table in the center, through the partially closed blinds. He turned back to face the curious Janay, who was peering through the conference room window, trying to gauge what the group of visitors might have wanted with Dr. Drake.

“I can handle this from here. Why don’t you head back?” He suggested with a smile that took her off guard.

“Uh…yeah. You sure? I don’t mind hanging around for moral support, you know, for whatever this is about.” She gestured towards the conference room as she offered her company further.

He gave her a thankful pat on the shoulder and another warm smile. “Maybe next time, in case I need a pit bull. But I think I can handle giving them another polite, but slightly firmer, no. I’ll be back in a few; let Zayna know.”

She walked backward down the hallway in the direction they’d just come, giving him a lazy faux salute in response. “You got it, Dr. Drake. Give ’em hell in there.” She turned around and headed back to the ER.

Drake rubbed his weary eyes, not realizing until now that his energy seemed to be running on fumes. He turned the handle on the conference room door and pushed it open, taking some of the museum representatives scattered around the table by surprise. Ezekiel spotted Ms. Light at the opposite end of the room as she put the finishing touches on a cup of coffee. She gave him a comfortable smile, relishing the fact that she’d managed to track him down again. Ezekiel noted that she seemed to be a woman who liked to maintain control whenever she could. And he was sure she had it often.

“Dr. Drake, I apologize that we had to go to such lengths to get another conversation with you.”

Ezekiel gave her a smile that was meant to be just as phony as the one she was shooting at him. 

“I can see you aren’t one used to being told what you don’t want to hear. But I’m not sure harassing me while I’m trying to do my very critical job is the best means to get whatever it is you’re looking for. With all due respect, of course, ma’am.” Ezekiel fell into one of the chairs at the conference table and leaned back comfortably. 

He looked around the room at the men Ms. Light had with her, all of them seemingly not too fond of him as they shot him angry glares. She gave him a condescending smirk as she took a seat at the other end of the table. She gave a nod to the men with her to do the same, taking a sip of her coffee while observing Ezekiel for a moment.

“Doctor, Professor, whatever title you prefer to go by, so this can go smoothly, we are aware there is nothing we can do to persuade you to donate the artifact you recovered to our museum,” Ms. Light explained, trying her brand of diplomacy to get the conversation where she wanted. “But we were hoping that you could take your upcoming excursion for Doctors Beyond Borders a bit early, and were here to convince you to do so.”

Ezekiel’s face shifted from slightly amused to confused once she finished her vague explanation. “For representatives of a museum, even a reputed one, you are awfully well-informed about my comings and goings.”

“We both have a mutual respect for history and bringing it to the forefront of our people’s attention, Dr. Drake. To do my job to the best of my abilities, I have to be well informed. If anyone would understand that, it should be you.”

“What is it you need me in Africa sooner for, Ms. Light? And how soon is sooner, exactly?”

She smirked, leaning forward, placing both elbows on the table, and resting her hands under her chin. If they’d been playing poker, Ezekiel could have sworn she was holding a hell of a hand. 

“Tell me about this museum you have planned for Washtenaw County? I was told you went through considerable trouble to acquire the building and land for the site.”

Ezekiel raised an eyebrow, noticing how deftly she avoided his question. “The Black History Museum did have considerable resistance from a certain…pocket of citizens. Thankfully, we have tentative plans to open next spring. As I’m sure a woman of your keen intellect has already put together, the cross from King John’s lost baggage train will be a feature piece on display.”

Ms. Light sneered, more impressed with him than she wanted to be. She hated to admit to the people who had suggested him for this expedition that they may have been right. “I’m sure the customs process for that was hell.”

Ezekiel smirked, drawing a curious glare from Ms. Light in response. “Eh, when you know the right people, it can be smoother than you’d imagine. The British Government wasn’t too happy, but you know what they say? Finder’s keepers and all that. They spent hundreds of years pillaging Africa for their museums and resources. It’s about time the tables turned.”

“Hmph,” Ms. Light began after another sip of her coffee, her ruby red lipstick staining the paper cup but still looking flawless on her. “To answer your previous question, we have a flight prepared for you to leave from Willow Run tomorrow afternoon. I’ve already contacted the organization and let them know you would be arriving early.”

“A month and a half early!” Ezekiel shot back. “And you still haven’t explained to me why you need me in Africa so suddenly. Until I get more straight answers from you. I think this conversation should be at an end.” He pushed himself away from the table and stood up abruptly.

Much to his immediate dismay, the four gentlemen who accompanied Ms. Light stood up just as suddenly. None of them looked very pleased that he seemed ready to leave. In fact, Ezekiel thought that they almost seemed ready to make sure he finished listening to what Ms. Light had to say, by any means necessary.  Ms. Light gave him a kind smile that almost suggested he was on the money with his assumption before she stood up as well.

“Dr. Drake, what do you know about the reign of Mansa Musa?” Ms. Light’s question brought Ezekiel right back front and center to their conversation.

Ezekiel crossed his arms, considering her question for a moment as he went over what he’d researched on the topic. “Rumored to, though unverifiable for several reasons, have been the richest man who ever lived.”

“His renowned hajj to Mecca is one that was recounted in plenty of schools like the ones we grew up in, am I right, doctor?”

Ezekiel nodded in agreement. “Once he turned Timbutku into a trade epicenter, they say the gold distributed by his empire even helped fund the European Renaissance.”

“Amazing how much of our history, and our profound impact on the world, they try to bury, isn’t it?” Ms. Light replied with a question Ezekiel decided to take as rhetorical. “I suppose it's why you decided to open your museum at the risk of being murdered by a demon-worshipping cult.”

“Actually, the Black Communion worships the forgotten apostle, the selfish one…” Ezekiel replied. 

“Enjoy your flight tomorrow, Dr. Drake.” Ms. Light told him as she stood up and walked around the table towards him. “Once you’re set up at your post, we will have another discussion. Dr. Adeji will be expecting you; she’s very excited.” 

She walked past him, her small group following after her like the faithful attendants they were. Ezekiel looked back at her, dumbfounded. He was still trying to piece together what she wanted with him and why she brought up Musa’s infamous hajj.

“How do you know I’ll be there tomorrow?” He asked her just as she pushed open the door.

“I’ve been told a good mystery just can’t keep you away from it. I have a feeling this one will weigh heavily on you. Have a good shift, Dr. Drake.” 

Ezekiel watched through the conference room blinds as the mysterious Ms. Light led her group towards the exit. The more he regarded the handful of men that she had accompanying her, the more he figured they were there for her protection and had no business inside of any museum.

Around five a.m, Dr. Awad pushed open the door to the ER department break room, eager for a brief reprieve.  As she went to grab a snack she’d brought out of the fridge, she finally noticed Ezekiel sitting alone at a table in the corner. She smiled at him as he finally raised his head, realizing he was no longer alone.

“You’re looking twice as ragged as I am,” she pointed out as she walked over to his table after grabbing a spoon for her yogurt. “What happened to that lithium battery you keep in your spine?” She joked as she pulled out a chair on the other side of him.

Ezekiel finally gave her a half-hearted smile before answering. “Too much on my mind and a whole lot going on here. I’m glad you finally got a chance to eat something, at least.” He nodded towards her yogurt cup.

“You’re not getting off that easy. I know this was a non-stop rollercoaster, but what’s got you in here pulling a Charlie Brown?” She continued prodding at him. 

She had hoped after all the time they’d spent side by side on the night shift, dealing with all sorts of hell, that he’d be able to open up to her. He’d certainly always made it known she could do so when it came to him. Ezekiel’s shoulders sagged as he leaned forward, placing both hands on the table as he looked up at his fellow resident. 

“I have been sitting here for the last fifteen minutes trying to figure out how to explain that you and Dr. Charles will have to hold down the department starting tomorrow while I’m out of town.” Ezekiel carefully looked up from his hands to see her reaction.

Zayna took a moment to sift through what he told her, a few different emotions shifting across her face. She finally met Ezekiel’s eyes once she had digested what he’d dropped on her. “I thought you weren’t scheduled for that leave with DBB until the end of the summer? Why the abrupt change?”

Ezekiel sighed. He searched through the words, scrambling through his head for the right way to explain the situation. “Something came up; things are getting a bit dicey in a few areas where the clinics are severely understaffed. I know this is out of nowhere and it leaves us in a tight spot–”

“Don’t worry about it.” She cut him off with a wave of her hand and a short smile meant to ease the anxiety he was clearly struggling with. “If things are that bad, then they need someone with your skills sooner rather than later. We can handle things here.”

Ezekiel managed to smile as she gave him some well-needed reassurance. Still, the facial expression was short-lived as a few nagging doubts crept into the back of his mind. He’d already felt selfish and guilty that he was compelled to accept Ms. Light’s offer. It didn’t help that Zayna was being so selfless and encouraging, though she didn’t know the full scope of why his tenure in Africa had moved up so quickly. Zayna noticed the seesaw of emotions on his face and made him meet her eye line again.

“I know what you’re doing. Stop it. And when you’re ready to talk, that door you opened between us works both ways.” The smile returned to his face at her kind words.

“I appreciate you, Zayna.” He replied heartily.

She gave him another warm smile. “I know.”

The sound of rushing, churning waters could be heard from inside the sprawling castle ruins, even though the group trudging through the grounds was a few miles from the coast. A pasty-skinned, lanky man with dirty, thick blonde dreadlocks lit himself a White Maple cigarette as he roamed through what was left of the main floor. His thick, rubbery combat boots clashed violently with his Attack Attack t-shirt and skin-tight black jeans. Behind him, a swarm of nasty-looking men and women, all of them carrying British Army standard assault rifles–purchased on the black market–and dressed head to toe in black. What made the sight that much more unsettling amongst the medieval ruins was that all of them, save Zack, were wearing frightening, twisted Halloween masks of different animals

Zack, the only name he gave to bottom-ranking members of the communion like the ones with him, spotted the staircase he was looking for according to the directions he’d been given. He turned to the group following him and jerked his head towards the stairs, a shifty, twisted grin spreading across his face. He swung his head forward, the silver chain with a lone matching silver ring swinging around his neck with the motion. He marched up the stairs confidently, not a care in the world except claiming what he’d trekked across country after country for. He feared nothing; he knew that his friends had paid the government contacts here a hefty sum to keep any authorities away from Castle Rising as he conducted his search.

He moved through the upstairs corridor, briefly looking out one of the broken windows. The dark waters rushed in the not-too-far distance. Zack couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the moon as it hit the Wash. It was the perfect night for him to obtain another piece that would bring the communion one step closer to the world they were building. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, holding up a fist to halt his group in position behind him. They halted on the dime in perfect unison, well-trained as they were.

 Zack studied the knight’s armor, still erected in the ruins. To the untrained eye, it was just another part of this beloved tourist site in the English countryside. But Zack knew its true purpose. He reached towards the knight’s arm, shifting it downward until it was straight at its side. He stepped back as the wall behind the knight shifted aside, revealing a passage that had been hidden previously. Zack’s heart raced with excitement as he turned to his group.

“Wait here.”

The well-trained and heavily armed group at his command did as they were instructed. Each of them took up strategic positions in the hallway, giving them a tactical advantage in securing the area. Zack paid them little attention as his focus was held rapt on the door at the other end of the hidden passage. The communion had spent years cross-referencing whether the rumors were true that a research team managed to recover a piece of King John’s lost treasure. As he reached the dated door with a wrought-iron handle, Zack licked his lips in anticipation. Just the thought of the power they would be closer to once they obtained the artifact on the other side made him nearly lustful.

The door opened with a loud creak as he pulled on its handle. Inside were two freshly lit torches on opposite walls. A chest sat in the center of the room, but as Zack approached it, the lascivious smile was wiped from his face, replaced by an ugly scowl. He knelt in front of the chest, inspecting the open lock hanging on it. The heavy steel bolt lock hadn’t been cut and showed no sign of aggressive force applied to it. This had been picked open, and by someone with prodigious skill in the method, he reasoned.

Zack tossed the chest lid open, hoping the assumption creeping into his gut was terribly wrong. As he reached inside for the yellow sticky note, the only thing in the chest, he realized that, unfortunately, his assumption was spot on. He held the note in front of him as a fury built up inside his chest.

DOWN LOW, YOU KNOW THE REST

-Professor E. Drake

Zack bellowed in pure anger as he realized the persistent thorn in his side had struck once more. He stormed out of the passage and back into the hallway, his family of soldiers swarming to his side at the sight of his fury. 

“He’s still in the castle. Find him!”

The armed acolytes scurried away to follow his orders. Zack tried to calm himself down with a few quick breaths. He refused to be beaten by that bastard, not when he had come this far.

Unbeknownst to Zack and his crew, the man he was searching for pulled his University of Michigan National Champions letterman jacket tighter over his shoulders, and his old English ‘D’ Detroit Tigers hat lower over his eyes. Tucked inside his jacket was the pure, golden cross with beautiful sapphires encrusted down the middle that Zack sought so dearly. Professor Ezekiel Drake peeked down the corridor of the third-floor room he’d been biding his time in. Realizing it was momentarily clear, he stepped out and hurried down it towards the stone bridge connecting to the eastern portion of the bailey.

Once Ezekiel reached the bridge, he could see a pair of armed men in wolf and pig masks, respectively, marching around the keep below. He took a deep breath and, slowly and carefully, tiptoed his way across the bridge, hoping they would be too focused on clearing the lower floor to look in his direction. He was halfway to the other side when a slow, methodical clap echoed through the walls of the keep. Professor Drake turned around slowly as a grimace formed on his face. He saw Zack enter the room below, a handful more of the animal-masked soldiers flanking him, each of their beady eyes turning in his direction, along with their leader. 

“I should have known you’d be here already, slinking around like a common rat,” Zack told him.

Ezekiel smiled and shrugged dismissively. “I like to consider myself more of a worker ant. I figured the circles you walk in were more partial to rodents.”

Zack smirked at Ezekiel’s wisecrack, though he was far from pleased to see the doctor walking through the remains of the castle. He could see that Ezekiel was favoring his left side, as if he was protecting something, and his smile became that much more sinister. 

“Why don’t you toss down the relic, and I’ll tell them where to find your body. Instead of desecrating it and throwing it into the Wash as you rightly deserve.”

“Gee, that sounds like a swell idea and all, but I think this piece is going to look wonderful in the museum collection I’m putting together. But feel free to stop by and see it when we’re open. We’ll do half-off entry fees for sociopathic cult members.”

Professor Drake's clever reply wiped the smile off Zack’s face for the second time that night. In its place was a furious glare of pure loathing. He turned to his animal family, no longer interested in any sort of dialogue with the man who had taken what was rightfully the communion’s. 

“End him, then bring his carcass down here so I can piss on it.” 

Ezekiel’s eyes went wide as he heard each of the Sig Sauers the dead-eyed acolytes were carrying aim at him. He didn’t wait for what came next as a flurry of gunfire erupted in his direction, tearing up the stone ruins and bridge. Ezekiel crossed into the eastern bailey as he could hear Zack’s orders for them to get after him echoing through the castle. He ducked through an empty window chasm and slid downward into a lower courtyard. Unfortunately, he landed right between two acolytes who were guarding the room. Each of them, one wearing a raccoon mask and the other what seemed to be a fox, Ezekiel couldn’t quite tell in the darkness, turned slowly towards him. They stared at Ezekiel, confused as to how he could have gotten so unlucky.

“You guys wouldn’t happen to have the fastest route out of here, would you?” 

He gave them a friendly smile, holding his hands up as if he were surrendering. They hesitated over whether to shoot him or simply grab him, a gamble Ezekiel was taking to get him out of this particular jam. 

Once he saw the sliver of an opening his impromptu appearance had created, Ezekiel dropped his hands quickly and rocked each of the dumbfounded acolytes with a left and right cross. As the one in the raccoon mask tried to get back to his feet, Professor Drake snatched up his dropped Sig MCX and smacked him silly across the face with it. He stepped over both their bodies and looked around the courtyard to see which way he should go. There were a myriad of options for him, but he gritted his teeth as he knew almost all of them would only lead him to further danger. He yanked a two-way radio out of his back pocket. Drake waited rather impatiently for the static to clear before yelling into it, finally deciding as he sprinted through an open doorway to his immediate left. “Adela, how far out are you?”

“I’ll be at the docks in less than two minutes. How are you faring?” She chortled back over the air.

Ezekiel sprinted through another stone-arched corridor, spotting the entrance hall from above. A sense of relief briefly washed over him. That was, until a trio of communion acolytes turned down the very same hall he was standing in at the opposite end. 

“Oh, you know, could be worse.” He replied dryly.

The moment they trained their weapons on him, Professor Drake knew he had only one option left, which he exercised as he leaped over the railing and out of the line of fire. He rolled with his landing to reduce the impact on his usually aching knees and joints. He popped to his feet faster than he’d expected to, just as Zack's followers swung their rifles towards the hall and let loose. Professor Drake scrambled for cover as bullets rained down around him. Somehow, he narrowly avoided being torn apart and dove into a spiraling staircase. He grimaced, realizing he had been nicked across the arm by a bullet, but he was thankful that it seemed to be a flesh wound. He’d tend to it once he got on the boat; the adrenaline pumping through his veins was substantial enough that the pain was a dull afterthought at the moment. 

Bullets sprayed into the staircase as he heard footsteps pounding down the stone as they continued their chase. He dashed up the staircase, finding himself back in what once served as the guest waiting area of the castle, but was now an observatory for tourists and civilians to enjoy the view. What seemed to be a dead end was, for him, the way he’d planned to exit. He snatched up his cane, its base made of rare Acajou wood that helped when his knee pain was flaring up more than usual. It was practically on fire now, giving him more trouble than the wound on his arm, in fact. He was thankful to have the relief of pressure the cane gave him as he hurried towards the window he’d smashed open an hour ago.

He almost didn’t see the figure shifting in the shadows until it swung its broad sword directly at Ezekiel’s head. He ducked out of the way just in time as he saw the glint of steel in the moonlight hitting the room. The one-handed, double-edged blade clinked off the stone wall, sending sparks flying. Its wielder, who was dressed in lightweight armor that made him resemble a modern-day knight, swung the sword with a grace and skill that Professor Ezekiel would have marveled at if the man wasn’t trying to murder him. Drake jumped backward just in time as the angry knight assassin swung the sword in a wide arc, attempting to disembowel him.

Ezekiel realized that his ride must have been waiting for him, and he didn’t have any further essential time to waste. More importantly, this wasn’t exactly a fight he was sure he could win, and it was certainly one he couldn’t give the rest of Zack’s men the precious moments to pin him down here. As the angry, bloodlust-driven knight, whom Ezekiel recognized as a notable assassin for hire across Europe, stalked towards him, he made a rash decision he hoped would pay off. But first, he needed to keep his attacker off balance. He yanked the blade out of the wooden sheath, revealing the weapon he had hidden inside his cane. He knew it was no match for the templar sword that his opponent was wielding with such deft skill, but along with the Acajou-crafted cane, he would be able to fend off the heavier weapon. At least, that and the second half of his plan were what he was wagering his life on.

“You’ve got quite the reputation. I wouldn’t have expected you to fall in line with a man like that.”

Ezekiel tossed the backhanded compliment as the swordsmen tried to close the gap between them. He was bigger than Ezekiel by an inch or two and had at least fifteen pounds on him. That was saying quite a bit, considering Professor Drake’s extensive athletic background. Given that he had the size advantage and a stronger blade, he was trying to get in closer to press his advantage. Ezekiel could hear voices and footsteps approaching. Zack’s acolytes would be in the entrance courtyard soon enough.

“He was able to pay my fee, plus a bonus if I take your head,” The swordsmen replied with a menacing rumble. “The only thing I fall in line behind is the balance in my account.”

Professor Drake sighed, almost condescendingly. “And that’s the problem with you, and the rest of the world, I’m afraid. But unfortunately, not one I can solve today. One step at a time, I suppose.”

The swordsman sneered. Sick of Professor Drake’s snide preening, he lunged from his stance, striking with the intent to cleave him in two. Drake stepped aside just in time, then rolled away to create distance between himself and the hired assassin, who was merely extra muscle on Zack's expedition. That drew an inner sigh of relief from Ezekiel as he popped to one knee and glanced behind him, listening to the swordsman curse in frustration at his missed strike.

Footsteps thundered through the entrance corridor, and Ezekiel knew it was time to make himself scarce. He was only thankful that the terrifying knight cosplayer who had attacked him was not a devout member of Zack’s cult. They wielded enough power, and Drake didn’t want to see them add to their ranks. 

“You fight like a coward!” The swordsman snarled.

“I’m a doctor, sir. Not a warrior,” Professor Drake replied matter-of-factly as he sprinted across the room and dove through the broken window while sheathing his blade inside his cane.

As he fell towards the ground, he pressed a button on the cane’s shaft, firing a hook from the handle. The hook cinched onto the window pane, allowing Ezekiel to lower himself without harm. He retracted the hook and immediately hauled it across the grounds. By the time he made it to the ATV he had hidden behind some shrubbery just twenty feet from the castle, he could already hear the sounds of engines gunning to life. He hopped on the four-wheeler and tore off across the damp grass. By the time he could see the waters of the Wash as he flew over a hill, Zack and his so-called family were hot on his trail inside a trio of farm trucks. Bullets ripped through the air and across the grass near him. He thrust the handlebars as far back as they would go, stretching the ATV's engine to its absolute limit.

He’d bitten off more than he could chew, mistiming how long it would take him to comb the castle for the lone relic recovered from King John’s lost baggage train after centuries. He’d underestimated how much power Zack and that band of freaks he rode with wielded, and just how many guns he had trying to hunt him across the grounds. He ducked down lower on the ATV, his face close to the handlebars as the wind whipped in his face. Ezekiel spotted the dock and knew he only had to make it to the water to be home free. One of the trucks caught up to him and swerved towards the four-wheeler. Ezekiel slammed on the brakes, just managing to avoid being smashed, and maneuvered deftly around the back of the truck. In a spontaneous move, he fired the grapple hook from his cane at the tailgate and used the truck’s momentum to slingshot him forward. Bullets shredded both rear tires of the ATV the moment it hit the old wooden deck, but it didn’t matter, as he had gained more than enough speed to pull off what he had in mind. The four-wheeler shot off the deck as bullets sprayed past Ezekiel, just as he leaped off the vehicle and plunged into the cold depths of the Wash.

He came up and took a deep breath, just in time to see the rope being tossed to him from the speedboat. “Hurry up! These bastards are mad!” 

He could hear Adela shouting to him as she got back behind the wheel of the boat. He snagged the rope and wrapped it twice around his wrist.

“Just go!” He shouted back. She didn’t waste a moment gunning the boat as hard as she could away from the shoreline.

Back on the dock, Zack leaped out of one of the trucks, watching as the speedboat disappeared into the darkness across the water. “The next time I cross paths with Dr. Drake, it’ll be me stepping over his corpse. He’ll make a fine sacrifice to the communion one day.”

Drake finally managed to climb into the boat and fell into the chair next to Adela. Completely exhausted, he could barely hold himself upright. Adela kept looking over at him impatiently, less concerned about his well-being since he seemed to be in one piece. “Well?! Did ya get it?!”

Ezekiel looked over at her lazily, a grin spreading over his face while he unzipped his jacket. He pulled out the beautiful golden cross, letting the moonlight hit it as he turned it over in his hand.

Hey there folks, I have a story I am working on as part of the next novel in my fiction universe. Its basically a pulp Black Indiana Jones story in a modern setting. The only issue is there is no pulp adventure sub that I can find to gauge this in? Anyone know of any subs or genres this would fit in instead, for example, here is a short synopsis:

When a violent attack in Mali exposes an ancient diary pointing to Mansa Musa’s lost gold crown, ER doctor and secret archaeologist Ezekiel Drake is thrown into a high-stakes treasure hunt he never asked for. Armed with a cane that hides a blade and a nurse who refuses to stay behind, Drake must outrun a ruthless warlord, a twisted occult cult, and a deadly Russian mercenary before the legendary crown falls into the wrong hands—and the history of an empire is stolen forever.

Looking forward to hearing you fine folks thoughts, thanks!

Hey there folks, I have a story I am working on as part of the next novel in my fiction universe. Its basically a pulp Black Indiana Jones story in a modern setting. The only issue is there is no pulp adventure sub that I can find to gauge this in? Anyone know of any subs or genres this would fit in instead, for example, here is a short synopsis:

When a violent attack in Mali exposes an ancient diary pointing to Mansa Musa’s lost gold crown, ER doctor and secret archaeologist Ezekiel Drake is thrown into a high-stakes treasure hunt he never asked for. Armed with a cane that hides a blade and a nurse who refuses to stay behind, Drake must outrun a ruthless warlord, a twisted occult cult, and a deadly Russian mercenary before the legendary crown falls into the wrong hands—and the history of an empire is stolen forever.

Looking forward to hearing you fine folks thoughts, thanks!

Since I first saw Chef(2014), and coming from a family that loves food, I have been obsessed with movies and TV that center around cooking. Chef is one of my fave films, and I love Burnt as well. So when FX announced Lip Gallagher was getting his own show about a stressed out chef trying to turn around a family business(I am a food truck owner myself AND a filmmaker) I was LOCKED IN.

All these years later, and I pray one day I get to go to Mr. Storer, Jeremy, Ebon, Ayo, Jon and someone and tell them just how much this beautiful beautiful piece of art changed my life and kept me going. And now my THIRTEEN year old wants to binge it by herself(she is a big fan of Fishes)

Also last piece, but I had no idea until another post in another sub on here about the relationship between Jamie Lee and her father. It honestly makes her performances hit so much harder and that is saying a lot.

"Sugar, Its The Bear!"

Man, what a piece of art. I love this show, I love this community. And now to order an Italian beef from Portillos

In the fourth-floor room of the Hilton Garden, Samantha lay sideways on the suite's couch. Her nose runny and eyes as bloodshot as could be, she clutched a pillow in her arms as tightly as she could. Marie knelt next to her on the floor, combing her blonde hair back. “I’m going to run and grab something to help you sleep. Is that alright?” Sam nodded her head at Marie’s question as she sat up. She wiped her face with the back of her sweater, trying to pull herself together enough to speak.

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be fine.” Sam eventually responded. Doing her best to manage what almost resembled a smile, she felt bad that Marie hadn’t left her side for a moment. “I know you’ve got to be starving. You should grab something to eat if you’re going to head out.”

Marie shook her head, not even considering her own needs during a time like this. “No, I'm good. But you haven’t eaten either. What do you want me to pick up for you?” 

She grabbed her car fob off the dresser, the TV sat on alongside her key to the room. At least three empty wine bottles were scattered about, polished off by them and their friends who had left just minutes earlier.

“Trust me, I don’t think I have the stomach to keep anything down right now. Just take care of yourself. I’ll still be here trying to put the pieces of me back together.” Sam promised with a fatigued sigh.

Marie was hesitant, but took a deep breath and turned to the door. She wrenched it open halfway with one last glance back at Samantha. “I shouldn’t be more than ten or fifteen minutes. Call me if you change your mind about food.”

Sam nodded, and Marie left. Sam took a few moments to figure out how to keep her mind busy now that she was alone, and decided to turn the television on for background noise. She flipped through a couple of channels until settling on a back-to-back airing of Family Feud reruns.

A shaggy blonde-haired man took a long drag of the hand-rolled cigarette between his fingers. He peered through the grimy windshield of his still running 03 Ford Escape. He waited for Marie’s focus to be clear of the hotel’s cameras on this side of the building. He was able to monitor this as he had already patched into the hotel’s security system about forty-five minutes ago. The entire building’s security feed was on the laptop sitting in the seat next to him. 

He waited patiently for the front desk clerk to walk out the second main exit of the lobby, directly across from their station. Once they had taken a seat next to the empty pool, the shaggy-haired young man jumped out of his car. He grabbed a black Greek comedy mask from under his radio and pulled it over his face. He walked towards the exterior staircase that led to the higher levels of the hotel, not worried in the slightest about the cameras. He made sure they would begin to loop themselves with the last fifteen minutes of footage by the time he hit the steps.

Sam now lay on the couch, her head resting on the arm as a pillow while she clutched one of the former in her arms. An airing of the Hairspray remake played at a tedious volume. Still, the copious amounts of alcohol she had polished off since arriving at the hotel were finally starting to do what she’d hoped. While she knew whatever sleep she would get as she dozed off would surely be restless, she looked forward to getting some nonetheless. 

The very unexpected knock at the door caused her to flinch, and rather violently at that. She promptly snatched the remote off the floor and muted the TV, silencing Zac Efron’s belting of Ladies Choice. There shouldn’t be anyone at the door, Samantha surmised as she stared at the curtains next to it, her face white with terror. She was sure she had seen Marie grab her room key before leaving, but for some strange reason she couldn’t help but wonder whether the pain and stress of the last twelve hours might be making her overcautious. 

Marie’s arms could be full with whatever she returned with, or her room key deactivated by her cell or credit cards. Samantha took a deep breath and slowly unclutched the pillow. She got off the couch gingerly, deciding to peer out through the blinds first instead of the peephole. She pulled one back and stifled a scream when she saw the blank, almost lifeless green eyes staring directly back at her underneath the comedy mask. She instinctively fell to the floor once he launched himself through the window, crawling backward desperately towards the room’s phone as glass shattered in front of her.

Samantha frantically dialed 911 as the masked intruder dragged himself up rather lazily. He acknowledged the cuts on his arms from his entrance, then finally turned his focus back to the panicking Samantha. It took Samantha a second or two to eventually realize the line was dead. She dropped the receiver with tears streaming down her face. The shaggy-haired masked man couldn’t help but smile at the emotions she was showing in front of him. This is what made her so special, he thought. Both their eyes locked on the coffee table, where her phone sat next to an empty wine bottle.

He took a step forward, pulling a priceless French-crafted meat cleaver from his back pocket. “I’m so sorry, Samantha. I needed you to know that.” He took another step towards the sobbing Samantha, who instinctively took another step back. He brushed off more pieces of glass from his arms softly with the blade of the cleaver

“Please. Please leave me alone…take whatever you want!” Samantha pleaded with him while backing herself against the closest wall. The masked man ignored her pleas, an almost childlike curiosity was in his eyes as he closed the shrinking distance between them.

“I wanted to exercise patience when it came to you. I told Brian this was my intention, though I don’t think he heard me over his screaming. He may have bitten off his own tongue in the process. I wasn’t too fixated on that at the moment.” He kept walking, noticing the fresh filled bucket of ice on the kitchenette countertop of the suite. “I didn’t think you would just up and leave the city, however!” He said plainly with a slump in his shoulders. “We won’t get the time together that we deserve, I’m afraid. But don’t worry! No worries are needed. I will be sure everyone remembers you, as I do.”

Samantha cowered next to the sink and wall. She couldn’t find the will or urge, try as she might, to dash him. All she could think about as she stared at the blade held in his hand, almost with a delicate touch, was how he killed the man who was her best friend and partner. She couldn’t fathom how much he had suffered, and it paralyzed her to know that she was moments away from meeting a similar fate. 

He was nearly chest to chest with her now, the smell of his breath and body odor overwhelming her senses, nearly making her dizzy. She could almost see underneath the mask and did her very best not to be revolted by the yellow, rotting, sunken teeth that he was using to smile at her. He slowly raised the blade, putting it flatly against her cheek. He rubbed it back and forth slowly across her face, careful not to cut her just yet, the entire threatening act a taunt she couldn’t respond to.

Suddenly, he grabbed her by the face and slammed it against the kitchenette counter. Samantha dropped to the floor, her head busted open from the impact. As blood from her forehead dripped onto the carpet, she did her best to raise herself until her masked attacker reached down and dragged her to her knees by the back of her head. He banged her head against the coffee table this time, making sure she was still conscious afterward. 

He placed the edge of his cleaver to the back of her neck. “I’m sorry you didn’t become the star you were meant to be, Sam.”

 He raised the meat cleaver, but before he could bring it down into her skull, a New Amsterdam bottle was smashed across the back of his head. The masked man looked around the room, ignoring the blood coming from his skull. He sneered with an almost sick glee once he saw Marie standing between himself and the seriously concussed Samantha. 

“I’ve already called the cops. Just leave!” Marie pointed the jagged bottle at him to coincide with her statement.

The masked man ignored the threat and looked at his blade as he walked towards her. Marie refused to play whatever game he intended to play and lunged at him. Her offensive measures, while brave, proved to be a mistake. He stepped aside, leaving her off balance, and kicked her in the ribs. Marie fell to her knees, clutching at her side as she gasped desperately for the wind that the blow knocked out of her. 

He stepped over her in the black steel-toe work boots that made his footsteps so heavy, not even acknowledging Marie further as he returned his attention to Samantha. He dropped the blade on the coffee table where she was laying her head, blood and drool dripping onto it, where it clattered with the subtlety of a grenade. 

He knelt and put both hands around Samantha’s head. He pulled her to her feet, letting himself enjoy her squeals as he squeezed her skull in his hands once she was eye to eye with him. “You were better than this life you chose. Please remember that.” 

Samantha clawed frantically at his arms, leaving scratches that tore through the flimsy blue long-sleeved flannel. Her arms were too short to reach his face, however, and her efforts slowly began to wane as he continued to apply immense pressure–

A mighty yell caught the masked man completely off guard. He released Samantha and turned directly into a brutal roundhouse kick from Lethal that knocked him to the floor. While the masked man dragged himself through the broken glass away from him, Lethal looked over his shoulder as Marie scrambled to her friend and tossed her arm around her.

“Samantha, we have to go now. We have to go, Sam!” Marie urged her with every bit of desperation she could muster while half-yanking her towards the door. He watched them dash out of the room and head toward the fourth-floor elevators. He said a prayer under his breath, thankful he was able to keep his composure as always while in the suit around Marie. She had only crossed paths with him as Lethal once prior, when the booming Arc Angel club, owned and run by Giovanni Davis, was still operating. This incident was already hitting far too close to home, just like that one did. 

This was a trend Jason was not pleased about during his brief tenure under the helmet, and he was about to take out his displeasure on the very dirty white man in front of him. He stomped towards him as the man rushed to his feet. Once Lethal got a step within his reach, he slipped a knife from his boot and swiped across his belly. Lethal was upset that he let his frustration leave him so open, but the blade didn’t get past the first layer of his torso armor. He struck the masked man twice in the throat before launching him into the cabinets above the kitchenette counter. 

Lethal stalked towards him once more, ready to finish beating him senseless and depart before the local police could arrive. He snatched him back up by the collar of his shirt. He stared at the demented pair of green eyes that looked back at him before the masked man yanked an ice pick from one of his jeans pockets and jammed it into Lethal's helmet. The pick didn’t get through to Jason’s face, but it did damage his helmet’s heads-up display. 

He stumbled back a few paces and wrenched the ice pick from his helmet. The masked man had used the brief sliver of time he had while Lethal’s assault momentarily ceased to snatch his meat cleaver back up. He charged at Lethal, slamming him into a nearby wall with a thud that seemed to shake the room. He immediately raised his blade and drove it towards Lethal with the intention of burying it in his shoulder, but the vigilante managed to slip just out of harm's way. Using the brief opening he’d now created himself, Lethal blasted the masked individual with a palm strike, sending him stumbling backward this time.

Blood started to trickle from his nose. The man smirked underneath the Greek comedy mask as blood dribbled down his chin. Lethal caught a glimpse of his opponent's very wicked smile as his palm strike cracked the mask down the middle at the bottom. The man dropped the meat carver and rummaged in the back pockets of the washed and frayed jeans he wore. Both his hands returned with military-grade tear gas canisters in each hand. Lethal rushed at him, but he leaped back through the shattered window as the gas filled the room.

“Are the helmet’s filters still operational?” Sean asked him, concern in his voice.

“They're fine!” Jason assured him before chasing after the masked man who had enraged him at this point. He tucked and rolled to a knee, then bounced to his feet, but the masked man was nowhere in sight. Lethal looked down when he heard a crunch as he took a step. Pieces of the Greek comedy mask were underneath his boot. He scanned the parking lot for a sign of Sam and Marie’s attacker, combing for any trace of where he could have disappeared so quickly. Before he could continue his search further, the sound of the pistols pointed at him cocking took his attention towards the police officers on each side.

“Hands where we can see them! Get on the ground, now!” The officer to his left demanded with a shaky voice he clearly didn’t have faith in. 

Jason gritted his teeth and seethed. He knew that the maniac capable of doing all of this in a manner of minutes was slipping through his hands by the moment. There wasn’t another option besides what he was about to do next. Without an ounce of hesitation, he leaped over the railing. The astonished officers were too busy watching him drop all four stories directly into the sunroof of his car. The roof slid closed, and the S1500 sped away just as the officer’s backup arrived on the scene.

“Shoot a recon drone above this area!” Jason told Sean as his seat slid into the middle of the autopiloting vehicle as it changed him from his armor to a polo button-down and slacks. Jason jumped out of the car in an alleyway down the block and briskly jogged back towards the hotel. Sirens filled the streets ahead of him.

Jessica paced back and forth across the bullpen area, looking over the shoulder of fellow detective Rick Fane. Sprawled across his desk were autopsy reports of various bodies found inside a local dispensary. Some of the victims were currently clinging to life at Hutzel Hospital downtown, while Jessica and Rick surveyed what the officers who had worked the scene put together.

“I had a couple of friends of mine I can trust do the digging, and this spot is definitely owned by one of the shell companies we’ve been trying to link to Dom Reynold’s,” Rick told her. 

Neither of them was surprised by this, but what they were surprised by was the mess left on the property.

“Caleb is a looser cannon than I’m sure his daddy likes, but something is seriously off about this entire picture.” Jessica sensed. She snatched a few photos from the dispensary and flipped through them, determined to find anything that stood out. “Did they get anything back from the autopsies yet?”

Rick shot her a grim look that gave her the answer she was looking for. Jessica sucked her teeth in disgust. “We did have a couple of witnesses who were on the streets around the building say they saw two people, one of them fitting the description somewhat of Tommy Vargas, walking out of the building with a large sack over his shoulder that they tossed in the trunk.”

Jessica mulled over the latest piece of the incident that Rick gave her, slowly coming to a realization she was hoping she’d be very wrong about. “Have we been able to confirm if Caleb Reynolds was inside when all of this went down?”

“Not yet,” Rick answered. “One of the folks we hope recovers was upstairs in the VIP lounge area when shit started going south. Our information tells us he’s one of Caleb’s inner circle.”

Jessica flashed a look of pure disgust and tossed the photos back onto Rick’s desk. “That right there tells me everything I need to know. We need to find Caleb before his father finds out someone snatched him like he was a little ass boy.”

Rick was utterly confused, watching Jessica return to her nervous pacing. “No fucking way you think Tommy walked into this stronghold of the people trying to wipe him off the map and pulled some shit like that.” Rick’s confusion and outright disbelief only grew as he saw the stern, solemn glare on Jessica’s face.

“I want twenty-four-hour searches on this, Rick. We don’t close shop for a goddamn thing, you understand?” She ordered before getting distracted by the phone vibrating in her suit coat pocket. 

She quickly peeked at the text, trying to stay on the task. Unfortunately, what she read would only force her into another rapidly escalating issue. She snatched her keys off her own desk behind them and hurried towards the main exit. Rick swiveled his chair toward where she was going, her abrupt departure only adding to his continued bafflement. 

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Ride with me, and you’ll find out.” She called back over her shoulder, disappearing around a corner.  Rick leaned back in his chair for a moment, weighing out his options. He didn’t weigh too long before jumping out of his chair and snatching his jacket off the back. He jogged through the bullpen after her, drawing eyes from his fellow officers.

In the fourth-floor room of the Hilton Garden, Samantha lay sideways on the suite's couch. Her nose runny and eyes as bloodshot as could be, she clutched a pillow in her arms as tightly as she could. Marie knelt next to her on the floor, combing her blonde hair back. “I’m going to run and grab something to help you sleep. Is that alright?” Sam nodded her head at Marie’s question as she sat up. She wiped her face with the back of her sweater, trying to pull herself together enough to speak.

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be fine.” Sam eventually responded. Doing her best to manage what almost resembled a smile, she felt bad that Marie hadn’t left her side for a moment. “I know you’ve got to be starving. You should grab something to eat if you’re going to head out.”

Marie shook her head, not even considering her own needs during a time like this. “No, I'm good. But you haven’t eaten either. What do you want me to pick up for you?” 

She grabbed her car fob off the dresser, the TV sat on alongside her key to the room. At least three empty wine bottles were scattered about, polished off by them and their friends who had left just minutes earlier.

“Trust me, I don’t think I have the stomach to keep anything down right now. Just take care of yourself. I’ll still be here trying to put the pieces of me back together.” Sam promised with a fatigued sigh.

Marie was hesitant, but took a deep breath and turned to the door. She wrenched it open halfway with one last glance back at Samantha. “I shouldn’t be more than ten or fifteen minutes. Call me if you change your mind about food.”

Sam nodded, and Marie left. Sam took a few moments to figure out how to keep her mind busy now that she was alone, and decided to turn the television on for background noise. She flipped through a couple of channels until settling on a back-to-back airing of Family Feud reruns.

A shaggy blonde-haired man took a long drag of the hand-rolled cigarette between his fingers. He peered through the grimy windshield of his still running 03 Ford Escape. He waited for Marie’s focus to be clear of the hotel’s cameras on this side of the building. He was able to monitor this as he had already patched into the hotel’s security system about forty-five minutes ago. The entire building’s security feed was on the laptop sitting in the seat next to him. 

He waited patiently for the front desk clerk to walk out the second main exit of the lobby, directly across from their station. Once they had taken a seat next to the empty pool, the shaggy-haired young man jumped out of his car. He grabbed a black Greek comedy mask from under his radio and pulled it over his face. He walked towards the exterior staircase that led to the higher levels of the hotel, not worried in the slightest about the cameras. He made sure they would begin to loop themselves with the last fifteen minutes of footage by the time he hit the steps.

Sam now lay on the couch, her head resting on the arm as a pillow while she clutched one of the former in her arms. An airing of the Hairspray remake played at a tedious volume. Still, the copious amounts of alcohol she had polished off since arriving at the hotel were finally starting to do what she’d hoped. While she knew whatever sleep she would get as she dozed off would surely be restless, she looked forward to getting some nonetheless. 

The very unexpected knock at the door caused her to flinch, and rather violently at that. She promptly snatched the remote off the floor and muted the TV, silencing Zac Efron’s belting of Ladies Choice. There shouldn’t be anyone at the door, Samantha surmised as she stared at the curtains next to it, her face white with terror. She was sure she had seen Marie grab her room key before leaving, but for some strange reason she couldn’t help but wonder whether the pain and stress of the last twelve hours might be making her overcautious. 

Marie’s arms could be full with whatever she returned with, or her room key deactivated by her cell or credit cards. Samantha took a deep breath and slowly unclutched the pillow. She got off the couch gingerly, deciding to peer out through the blinds first instead of the peephole. She pulled one back and stifled a scream when she saw the blank, almost lifeless green eyes staring directly back at her underneath the comedy mask. She instinctively fell to the floor once he launched himself through the window, crawling backward desperately towards the room’s phone as glass shattered in front of her.

Samantha frantically dialed 911 as the masked intruder dragged himself up rather lazily. He acknowledged the cuts on his arms from his entrance, then finally turned his focus back to the panicking Samantha. It took Samantha a second or two to eventually realize the line was dead. She dropped the receiver with tears streaming down her face. The shaggy-haired masked man couldn’t help but smile at the emotions she was showing in front of him. This is what made her so special, he thought. Both their eyes locked on the coffee table, where her phone sat next to an empty wine bottle.

He took a step forward, pulling a priceless French-crafted meat cleaver from his back pocket. “I’m so sorry, Samantha. I needed you to know that.” He took another step towards the sobbing Samantha, who instinctively took another step back. He brushed off more pieces of glass from his arms softly with the blade of the cleaver

“Please. Please leave me alone…take whatever you want!” Samantha pleaded with him while backing herself against the closest wall. The masked man ignored her pleas, an almost childlike curiosity was in his eyes as he closed the shrinking distance between them.

“I wanted to exercise patience when it came to you. I told Brian this was my intention, though I don’t think he heard me over his screaming. He may have bitten off his own tongue in the process. I wasn’t too fixated on that at the moment.” He kept walking, noticing the fresh filled bucket of ice on the kitchenette countertop of the suite. “I didn’t think you would just up and leave the city, however!” He said plainly with a slump in his shoulders. “We won’t get the time together that we deserve, I’m afraid. But don’t worry! No worries are needed. I will be sure everyone remembers you, as I do.”

Samantha cowered next to the sink and wall. She couldn’t find the will or urge, try as she might, to dash him. All she could think about as she stared at the blade held in his hand, almost with a delicate touch, was how he killed the man who was her best friend and partner. She couldn’t fathom how much he had suffered, and it paralyzed her to know that she was moments away from meeting a similar fate. 

He was nearly chest to chest with her now, the smell of his breath and body odor overwhelming her senses, nearly making her dizzy. She could almost see underneath the mask and did her very best not to be revolted by the yellow, rotting, sunken teeth that he was using to smile at her. He slowly raised the blade, putting it flatly against her cheek. He rubbed it back and forth slowly across her face, careful not to cut her just yet, the entire threatening act a taunt she couldn’t respond to.

Suddenly, he grabbed her by the face and slammed it against the kitchenette counter. Samantha dropped to the floor, her head busted open from the impact. As blood from her forehead dripped onto the carpet, she did her best to raise herself until her masked attacker reached down and dragged her to her knees by the back of her head. He banged her head against the coffee table this time, making sure she was still conscious afterward. 

He placed the edge of his cleaver to the back of her neck. “I’m sorry you didn’t become the star you were meant to be, Sam.”

 He raised the meat cleaver, but before he could bring it down into her skull, a New Amsterdam bottle was smashed across the back of his head. The masked man looked around the room, ignoring the blood coming from his skull. He sneered with an almost sick glee once he saw Marie standing between himself and the seriously concussed Samantha. 

“I’ve already called the cops. Just leave!” Marie pointed the jagged bottle at him to coincide with her statement.

The masked man ignored the threat and looked at his blade as he walked towards her. Marie refused to play whatever game he intended to play and lunged at him. Her offensive measures, while brave, proved to be a mistake. He stepped aside, leaving her off balance, and kicked her in the ribs. Marie fell to her knees, clutching at her side as she gasped desperately for the wind that the blow knocked out of her. 

He stepped over her in the black steel-toe work boots that made his footsteps so heavy, not even acknowledging Marie further as he returned his attention to Samantha. He dropped the blade on the coffee table where she was laying her head, blood and drool dripping onto it, where it clattered with the subtlety of a grenade. 

He knelt and put both hands around Samantha’s head. He pulled her to her feet, letting himself enjoy her squeals as he squeezed her skull in his hands once she was eye to eye with him. “You were better than this life you chose. Please remember that.” 

Samantha clawed frantically at his arms, leaving scratches that tore through the flimsy blue long-sleeved flannel. Her arms were too short to reach his face, however, and her efforts slowly began to wane as he continued to apply immense pressure–

A mighty yell caught the masked man completely off guard. He released Samantha and turned directly into a brutal roundhouse kick from Lethal that knocked him to the floor. While the masked man dragged himself through the broken glass away from him, Lethal looked over his shoulder as Marie scrambled to her friend and tossed her arm around her.

“Samantha, we have to go now. We have to go, Sam!” Marie urged her with every bit of desperation she could muster while half-yanking her towards the door. He watched them dash out of the room and head toward the fourth-floor elevators. He said a prayer under his breath, thankful he was able to keep his composure as always while in the suit around Marie. She had only crossed paths with him as Lethal once prior, when the booming Arc Angel club, owned and run by Giovanni Davis, was still operating. This incident was already hitting far too close to home, just like that one did. 

This was a trend Jason was not pleased about during his brief tenure under the helmet, and he was about to take out his displeasure on the very dirty white man in front of him. He stomped towards him as the man rushed to his feet. Once Lethal got a step within his reach, he slipped a knife from his boot and swiped across his belly. Lethal was upset that he let his frustration leave him so open, but the blade didn’t get past the first layer of his torso armor. He struck the masked man twice in the throat before launching him into the cabinets above the kitchenette counter. 

Lethal stalked towards him once more, ready to finish beating him senseless and depart before the local police could arrive. He snatched him back up by the collar of his shirt. He stared at the demented pair of green eyes that looked back at him before the masked man yanked an ice pick from one of his jeans pockets and jammed it into Lethal's helmet. The pick didn’t get through to Jason’s face, but it did damage his helmet’s heads-up display. 

He stumbled back a few paces and wrenched the ice pick from his helmet. The masked man had used the brief sliver of time he had while Lethal’s assault momentarily ceased to snatch his meat cleaver back up. He charged at Lethal, slamming him into a nearby wall with a thud that seemed to shake the room. He immediately raised his blade and drove it towards Lethal with the intention of burying it in his shoulder, but the vigilante managed to slip just out of harm's way. Using the brief opening he’d now created himself, Lethal blasted the masked individual with a palm strike, sending him stumbling backward this time.

Blood started to trickle from his nose. The man smirked underneath the Greek comedy mask as blood dribbled down his chin. Lethal caught a glimpse of his opponent's very wicked smile as his palm strike cracked the mask down the middle at the bottom. The man dropped the meat carver and rummaged in the back pockets of the washed and frayed jeans he wore. Both his hands returned with military-grade tear gas canisters in each hand. Lethal rushed at him, but he leaped back through the shattered window as the gas filled the room.

“Are the helmet’s filters still operational?” Sean asked him, concern in his voice.

“They're fine!” Jason assured him before chasing after the masked man who had enraged him at this point. He tucked and rolled to a knee, then bounced to his feet, but the masked man was nowhere in sight. Lethal looked down when he heard a crunch as he took a step. Pieces of the Greek comedy mask were underneath his boot. He scanned the parking lot for a sign of Sam and Marie’s attacker, combing for any trace of where he could have disappeared so quickly. Before he could continue his search further, the sound of the pistols pointed at him cocking took his attention towards the police officers on each side.

“Hands where we can see them! Get on the ground, now!” The officer to his left demanded with a shaky voice he clearly didn’t have faith in. 

Jason gritted his teeth and seethed. He knew that the maniac capable of doing all of this in a manner of minutes was slipping through his hands by the moment. There wasn’t another option besides what he was about to do next. Without an ounce of hesitation, he leaped over the railing. The astonished officers were too busy watching him drop all four stories directly into the sunroof of his car. The roof slid closed, and the S1500 sped away just as the officer’s backup arrived on the scene.

“Shoot a recon drone above this area!” Jason told Sean as his seat slid into the middle of the autopiloting vehicle as it changed him from his armor to a polo button-down and slacks. Jason jumped out of the car in an alleyway down the block and briskly jogged back towards the hotel. Sirens filled the streets ahead of him.

Jessica paced back and forth across the bullpen area, looking over the shoulder of fellow detective Rick Fane. Sprawled across his desk were autopsy reports of various bodies found inside a local dispensary. Some of the victims were currently clinging to life at Hutzel Hospital downtown, while Jessica and Rick surveyed what the officers who had worked the scene put together.

“I had a couple of friends of mine I can trust do the digging, and this spot is definitely owned by one of the shell companies we’ve been trying to link to Dom Reynold’s,” Rick told her. 

Neither of them was surprised by this, but what they were surprised by was the mess left on the property.

“Caleb is a looser cannon than I’m sure his daddy likes, but something is seriously off about this entire picture.” Jessica sensed. She snatched a few photos from the dispensary and flipped through them, determined to find anything that stood out. “Did they get anything back from the autopsies yet?”

Rick shot her a grim look that gave her the answer she was looking for. Jessica sucked her teeth in disgust. “We did have a couple of witnesses who were on the streets around the building say they saw two people, one of them fitting the description somewhat of Tommy Vargas, walking out of the building with a large sack over his shoulder that they tossed in the trunk.”

Jessica mulled over the latest piece of the incident that Rick gave her, slowly coming to a realization she was hoping she’d be very wrong about. “Have we been able to confirm if Caleb Reynolds was inside when all of this went down?”

“Not yet,” Rick answered. “One of the folks we hope recovers was upstairs in the VIP lounge area when shit started going south. Our information tells us he’s one of Caleb’s inner circle.”

Jessica flashed a look of pure disgust and tossed the photos back onto Rick’s desk. “That right there tells me everything I need to know. We need to find Caleb before his father finds out someone snatched him like he was a little ass boy.”

Rick was utterly confused, watching Jessica return to her nervous pacing. “No fucking way you think Tommy walked into this stronghold of the people trying to wipe him off the map and pulled some shit like that.” Rick’s confusion and outright disbelief only grew as he saw the stern, solemn glare on Jessica’s face.

“I want twenty-four-hour searches on this, Rick. We don’t close shop for a goddamn thing, you understand?” She ordered before getting distracted by the phone vibrating in her suit coat pocket. 

She quickly peeked at the text, trying to stay on the task. Unfortunately, what she read would only force her into another rapidly escalating issue. She snatched her keys off her own desk behind them and hurried towards the main exit. Rick swiveled his chair toward where she was going, her abrupt departure only adding to his continued bafflement. 

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Ride with me, and you’ll find out.” She called back over her shoulder, disappearing around a corner.  Rick leaned back in his chair for a moment, weighing out his options. He didn’t weigh too long before jumping out of his chair and snatching his jacket off the back. He jogged through the bullpen after her, drawing eyes from his fellow officers.