This story is by Miguel A. Zamora and was part of our 2024 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.
A ten-year-old boy emerged through the fire door leading into a hallway, running at full speed. Rounding a corner, he crashed into FBI Agent Marcus Navarro and sprawled to the floor.
“Clay, thank God, I found you! I’m with the FBI and I’m here to keep you safe.”
The fire door flew open again, and a man wearing a black trench coat strode into the hall, carrying a 10-gauge sawed-off shotgun at high ready.
Marcus grabbed Clay’s jacket collar and pulled him to his feet. The trench coat killer trotted toward the pair and raised his shotgun. Marcus stepped in front of the boy as the two men exchanged gunfire. Marcus missed with his Glock 9mm, but his right thigh caught a few pellets from the massive payload of the 10-gauge.
“Run, Clay!” Terrified, the boy remained transfixed by the gaping maw of the approaching 10-gauge. Marcus smacked Clay on the butt. “I said, run!”
Clay startled into action and ran around the corner.
Marcus checked his leg wound; he wasn’t running anywhere. He’d make his last stand here. Marcus squared up with the assassin and unleashed a swarm of hollow points into the mystery killer, but the man’s second barrel erupted, striking Marcus in the upper chest.
The impact from the shot knocked him off his feet. He slid on the tile floor another six feet before stopping. All he heard was the ringing in his ears.
Marcus wheezed, trying to draw enough breath. His eyelids fluttered a moment, then closed.
Marcus covered his eyes to block the intense white light aggravating his migraine. He snorted at the invasion of antiseptic, detecting a note of lavender while fighting the urge to vomit. Marcus sighed when he realized he was in a hospital.
He felt no pain from his wounds and pondered if that was a good thing… or a bad thing. Marcus ran through his routine ‘body checklist’ and wiggled his toes, then worked his way up. He was interrupted just as he moved his head from side to side.
Footsteps approached the bedside.
“You’re awake. Good. Let me dim the lights. The transition to our facility can cause headaches. Are you in pain?”
Marcus turned his head to the door, where stood a slender redhead in a doctor’s coat.
“Agent Navarro, I’m Doctor Baker.”
Marcus tugged against his restraints and cocked an eyebrow at the doctor.
“It’s just protocol until we determine your … stability.”
Marcus sighed.
“I’m sure you have questions.”
Marcus smiled. “Sure. Where am I? Who are you? What do you want? And is the boy all right?”
“The boy… didn’t make it.”
“Dammit! He didn’t deserve that.”
“If I may continue… we’ll get to the part about what we want from you later. Right now, your location is the In-Between.”
Marcus scrunched his brow.
“Are you familiar with the Trinity Test that took place on July 16, 1945, in New Mexico?”
“Sure, it was part of the Manhattan Project. The US Army detonated the first nuclear weapon.”
“You know your history.”
Marcus grinned. “No, I saw the movie.”
Baker laughed. “Well, what the movie and Army didn’t know is that the blast tore the veil between time and space. Which created the In-Between.”
Marcus’ face remained expressionless.
“Stay with me. It’ll make sense. I’m part of a group called the Watchers. We were created in the future to monitor and repair any aberration in the timeline.”
“Aberration? Like fractures in time?”
“Yes, we monitor the timeline for aberrations and make course corrections if necessary. They usually revolve around a time or event.”
Marcus laughed. “You expect me to believe this? This sounds like a bad sci-fi movie. Most likely I have a concussion or having a bad trip from whatever you gave me. This can’t be real.”
“I assure you it is.”
“No, better yet, I’m on the operating table and I died, and this is my mind’s last hoorah.”
Baker adjusted the bed until he was almost completely upright. The room faded out and they were now in a control room. A dozen technicians were monitoring over 100 floating screens.
“This is you in real time,” she said, pointing to a screen.
He watched a doctor cover his bloody body with a white sheet. “Time of death, 3:17 pm,” the doctor said.
Marcus’ mind swirled, his breath shallowed, as the realization hit him. “I was right. I…”
“Died. We pulled your consciousness a millisecond before your death and placed it in this avatar. Marcus, it’s the death of the Senator’s son that has caused this fracture.”
“I don’t understand how—”
“It’s not Clay so much, but his kids that are important to the future of mankind. But what you need to know now is there were two kidnappers.”
“Two? If I had known that… I was sloppy. When I arrived on scene, didn’t grab my vest or wait for backup. It never occurred to me we could be dealing with more than one suspect. Dammit, if only I could do it over…”
She touched his shoulder. “Marcus, we need to send you back. This outcome must change.”
“Send me back?”
“Dr. Baker, the window is closing,” a technician interrupted.
“Marcus, we must hurry. We don’t have much time before this aberration becomes reality.”
“How does it work?”
“We send your consciousness back into your body before the event happens.”
“I’ve never had migraines… are they a side effect of this process?”
“Yes, it’s caused by the influx of new memories.”
“Have I done this before?”“A few times, yes.”
“So, I get another second chance to get it, right?”
“Yes, but the window is closing so, this is it.”
“What are we waiting for?”
Dr. Baker placed a device on his temple and counted down from three.
“What the hell just happened?” Marcus rubbed his temples as images flashed in his mind.
He felt startled by the car radio that crackled to life. “Agent One-Nine, copy. Proceed with caution.”
He scanned his surroundings from his parking spot at Twin Pines Mall, and it clicked into place; he remembered his mission.
Save the kid…
He checked his gear and zipped up his FBI-stenciled jacket over his body armor. He winced as a migraine hit him. Then more information flooded his brain; he knew where the kid and the killer would be.
He entered through the north service door, ran down the corridor, and turned the corner into an open hallway. He aimed his M4 assault rifle at the fire door.
“In 3, 2, 1.” The door swung open, and Clay emerged through the door running at full speed.
“Clay, get down!” Clay went into a baseball slide.
Marcus counted down from five and fired a three-round burst just as the assassin strode into the corridor. The assassin crumpled to the ground as the rounds hit the mark—dead center of his chest.
Clay had covered his ears with his hands and closed his eyes.
“Clay.” Marcus touched the boy’s shoulder. He opened one eye and then let out a breath. “I’m here to take you home. Come on.”
Clay followed Marcus as he made his way to the assassin. He pushed the dead man over with his foot.
Marcus kicked the gun away, and he gestured Clay to the door.
A shotgun blast hit him square in the back. He dropped the M-4 and twisted in mid-air, landing on his back.
Clay instinctively ran through the fire door back into the mall.
Marcus drew his Glock as he and the other assassin fired simultaneously. The shot slammed into his chest. Marcus’s shot hit the assassin in the throat. The assassin dropped to his knees as he grabbed his throat and then slumped back.
Marcus wheezes, trying to draw a breath as he pulled himself up against the wall. His body armor caught most of the 10-gauge shot. His vision blurred and his heart pounded as he closed his eyes.
Marcus snorted as the bitter smell of antiseptic and the undertone of lavender invaded his nose. He opened his eyes and saw a nurse working on his IV.
“Is the boy, okay?”
The nurse jumped and screamed. She covered her mouth and laughed.
“I’m sorry. You startled me,” the nurse said. “Yes, the boy is fine.”
“That’s good. Where am I?”
“St. Vincent’s… I’ll get the doctor.”
“Dr. Baker?” Marcus asked.
“Who? There’s no Doctor Baker at this hospital.”
Marcus smiled.
Leave a Reply