Depthless, p.3
Depthless, page 3
Minutes had gone by, and Hudson had yet to move. Suddenly things shifted as two mischievous faces appeared from the crowd. They both wore penguin tuxes and stood over six feet. One of them was hiding an object behind their back, while the other who had a quite revealing gold hammer tattoo, kept a lookout.
They slowly sauntered to the guards when they were suddenly apprehended. “What is this?” scowled the man with the tattoo.
“We just want to speak with Mr. Basson,” he demanded while staring at the prisoner.
“Sorry, the general has instructed us to keep anyone from seeing him.”
“It will be rather short!” the other one with buck teeth smirked.
The guards hated the creature they were ordered to tend to and saw this as a chance to ‘be relieved of their duties.’ The two remaining guards exchanged looks, then stepped aside. With the Generals, attention diverted they were presented with this perfect opportunity.
The two kneeled and tilted their heads at the man before them. Mr. Basson had a sorrowful expression as he gazed at them. Suddenly, the tattooed man slipped a knife from under his tie. Mr. Basson noticed, but it was too late. The blade was already buried to the hilt in his stomach. As he tried to call out, blood gurgled from his mouth; attracting the guards nearby.
They rushed to the scene and shot without hesitation; the bullet slamming into one of the assassin’s skulls. Hudson dived in the melee as the buck-toothed man reached for his hidden pistol. As he leveled it, he felt metal pressed to his temple. He froze debating whether to shoot or not. In a split-second, the gun was kicked from his hand by the General himself. He glared up in shock, for no longer than a second, before he found himself face down on the ground.
The General instructed his men to chain the man and take him to the brig. He then faced the bloody scene and called for help.
“Quick, take Baxter to the hospital!” he ordered.
“Sir we…” the original pair of guards began to stutter as Baxter was rushed away in soldier’s arms.
“You two, outside NOW!” The men split and made their way outside concerned of what was to come.
Before anything could get worse another one of the General’s advisors showed up abruptly, his suit torn from the run. When he reached Krantz he didn’t dwell on catching his breath, instead spilled the news. What he whispered in the General’s ear must have been crucial because once said, the General gasped and nearly falling over.
Before he slumped to the floor, he was caught and held up by the assistance of his advisor.
“Tonight…” he mumbled as his head spun.
“What sir?” his advisor asked.
“TONIGHT!” he said a tad bit louder.
“Tonight what?” Hudson responded as he leaned in. All around him people scrambled for cover as sirens blared. The General grabbed Hudson by the shirt as he said, “Follow me.” He trailed the General when suddenly the man stopped and announced, “We leave Tonight!”
III: Castaway
This was the most auspicious of days, one, unlike the rest. Hudson was grabbed and hauled away, with his ginger ale still in hand. The guards exercise shear force as they lead him through the vast corridor of the palace.
“Hey, stop!” he squealed while whacking the guard upside the head. The man faced Hudson with frustration and annoyance as he squeezed his arm tighter. While he took a sharp turn, his black steel helmet slipped off rolling under a nearby table, adorned with a golden candlestick. The guard ignored it altogether and continued to storm down the hallway half dragging Hudson with him. Suddenly he veered off to the right taking an entirely different path than before, one Hudson was not familiar with. They come across a thin doorway with a blue silk curtain cascading over it. The guard drew his hand and pushed it aside, then the room went dark.
Hudson began to jitter once the guard started to speak. “Ten steps forward, two to the right and then there will be a door. Press it and run until you see a black van.” Hudson’s jaw gaped, but before he could question the guard, he was gone.
While Hudson was in transit, the General loomed in front of his most nefarious interrogation room. Most Generals would usually stay clear of these types of places, but this man was different. He sat down beside his advisors in a row of creaky wooden chair. As he looked to the side, he took note of an empty chair.
“Where’s Fritz?” he spoke in a startled manner.
“Sir, Fritz is gone…” One of the guards responded.
Krantz jumped up but immediately fell back in his seat. “Ahh,” he groaned, while he clutched his chest.
“What is it sir?” the oldest advisor asked.
“My heart, it…” The General grunted while trying to remain calm. He let out a huff and attempted to walk it off.
When he stood, he ambled to the one-sided window facing him. The room was bright as the sun and only held one seat, just enough for this situation. Inside were multiple detectives each trying to harvest some information.
Krantz admired one of the handsome detectives who frowned before exiting the room. The detective leered down at a clipboard which contained one single sentence.
“Well Krantz, he won’t bite. I assume he was with the Soviets, but who can tell…” The detective went on a ramble on how he thought they should proceed. Yet Krantz was not interested in this.
He stormed ahead and shoved the detective out of his path. As he entered, the buck-toothed assassin squinted at him. Krantz smiled and patted the remaining detective on the shoulder. “I’ll take it from here buddy,” he said with a nod. The man exited out in nothing flat.
When the door shut Krantz’s smile dissipated. He squatted down and slammed his hands onto the table while snatching the assassin’s chin and raising it to his face. “Who are you?” he said slowly.
“No one important. I just hate negros…”
“Liar!” the General barked. He whacked the man across the face nearly sending him across the room. As the man picked himself up blood drizzled from where his tooth once loomed. He glared at the General, his lips sealed tight.
“Oh, you still want to play games?” Krantz reached for his tie and tore it off. He fidgeted with the tie unraveling it to expose a hidden blade.
The assassin’s eyes bulged from their sockets as Krantz removed the knife from its case, “Look, I don’t want any trouble.”
From outside, his advisors observed as Krantz leaned closer to the man. “Oh my!” one of the guards shrieked as he rushed for the door. “Don’t go in there, Mr. Krantz can handle it...”
The General paced around the room as he swirled the knife around his eyes a smirk crossing his lips. “You know the human body is a magnificent thing… When the upper lobe is cut, you can survive for up to an hour, and if it's sewed back, you can go about your day. Thing is... an hour isn’t so long.” The General catapulted himself straight toward the man and delivered one fatal blow slicing the man’s forehead clean open.
The assassin nearly tipped over as he attempted to keep his brain inside his head. As blood rushed down his eyelashes, the General let out one daunting phrase, “One hour darling… one hour.”
The man broke quicker than expected, “Fine!” he squealed tears running down his cheek as the salt burned the open wound. “I’ll speak.”
The general shot him an empathetic glance and smiled.
“They sent me here after news of the crew… my comrade and I are just a slither of this operation theirs more… We were sent to kill that black scum. The rest are on other people’s plates.”
The General raised a brow contemplating what he had just heard.
“Huh? So, you’re saying there are more of you.”
The assassin nodded on the dot his head beginning to spin.
“Hmm,” the General murmured as he turned to leave.
“Hey wait!! You said you’d help me!”
The General ignored him and continued his march. Just before he opened the door, he looks back and said, “You really think someone can survive that?” He then laughed before ultimately shutting the door behind him.
Once he exited, he called for his advisors. “Clean up the mess when he’s gone, will you?”
The guards hauled the General to the car where he took control the wheel. The land around them shook as the wheels went airborne. They felt their stomachs rise above their throats as the clock closed in on midnight.
Minutes went by as Hudson sat still on top of a leather seat, within the walls of the daunting compound. Surrounding him were some familiar faces such as the Asian man who so rudely shoved him. Also, there was the ever so beautiful lady whom Hudson had earlier tried to speak to. Beside her was Lester, the pouty old man with an attitude. He continued to gaze spotting the fat man who was also with them. Hudson slumped down when something caught his eye. A dark-skinned man waving his hand while calling for help.
“Guard, Guard!” He stammered while pointing at his bandage. The Guard rushed to the man and knelt. He raised a circular tube and dropped a syringe inside sucking out the contents within. The guard continued to dress the wound of the man with drops of ointment. Then ultimately rubbing it and reapplying the bandage. Baxter shrieked in pain.
Out of the blue, four well-suited men appeared. They were walking in perfect unison like an orchestra performing their big break. Then suddenly the guards came to a halt. They parted, splitting like the red sea and instead of Moses, it was General Krantz.
When he entered Krantz cleared his throat and began to float around the room. Pacing with a touch of precision as if he were dancing. As he passed Hudson, he spoke.
“With every sunrise comes a sunset…” he intoned.
“As you should know we are in a dark time and any second now we could all be dead. Just like that!” He said as he snapped his fingers, “So, this is our sunset. America’s sunset. And if you don’t succeed, the sun shall never rise again,” His eyes peered up as if he were reciting from a Biblical reference.
The General was silent as he strolled around the room. Glaring at each of them individually, he was like a predator stalking his prey. As he eyed the one with the big belly, the Asian man raised his voice, “What are we doing here? You said we had a week?”
The General rolled his eyes and sauntered to the Asian man.
“Tucker,” He called him, “Things change, and if you can’t deal with that I’m sure others would be more than happy to take your place…” he slipped an envelope from his pocket down into Tucker's arms before stepping away.
Tucker raised an eyebrow and cautiously tore through the wafer-thin cardstock paper to the image of himself. However, in this picture, he looked far different than he currently did. His hair a mess and his body battered. Behind Tucker was a black and white background with height measurements. He reached the height of 5’8 against the backdrop, while he held a card stating his crime during the booking process. Tucker’s cheeks grew crimson as he crumbled the paper.
In due time the General speaks once more. “Now.” He said raising his hand. Before he could utter another word.
“STOP LET ME GO!” someone screamed from the darkness.
The General pivoted backward, and to his pleasure someone, dear had arrived. He suspended his speech for a moment as four guards dragged a middle-aged man to Krantz.
“Unhand me!” the ruddy skinned man spoke. The first thing Hudson noticed was this man’s chiseled chin alongside his limey eyes. He had chestnut brown hair scrambled atop his head. It was wild, maybe to wild…
“Get up Rambo!” Krantz barked, spit spewing from his dry mouth.
The soldiers hoisted him up with force, un-cuffed Rambo and nudged him in the General’s direction. “You said one week, it’s been a day!” “Rambo… how about a hello.” Rambo paused and sighed, “Hello.”
The General gazed around at his crew then spilled the news. “The Soviets sent assassins `to kill all of you! And if it weren’t for my order you’d all be dead. So, Rambo…” He grabbed the man’s shoulder and leaned close to him, “Be thankful.”
Rambo quickly took a seat ready to listen.
“As I was saying, you all are here to crew the mission of the century! You were all chosen because of your unique abilities, and I expect you all to follow through with every single obligation! Now if you cannot meet these requirements feel free to say so.” As he paused one of the soldiers cocked his weapon. The crew all stared at one another no one making a peep.
After a brief set of silence, the General resumed his order. He leaned down and picked nine out of the ten folders. The folders were jet black, shimmering to its every fold. He handed them to the crew one at a time, then cracked his knuckles.
“These are your mission briefs. Due to the situation, we are in, I will not speak of this mission instead you will read of it!” He cleared his throat then descended to his seat.
Hudson peeled his folder open eager to begin. He blew through line after line till he found himself at the back of the book. Slapping it shut, Hudson set it beside his chair. As he sat, he couldn’t help but wiggle around. The anticipation of everything was so high! After all, this assignment had been the most responsibility he had been given since the time he ran print for the day.
“You’re already done?” the General questioned quite surprised.
“Yes, sir!” Hudson responded cheerfully.
“Interesting…” The General stated.
“Mr. Krantz.” a low egotistic voice spoke from the shadow. It was one of his guards. However, when he neared, the real figure revealed himself.
He was a tall ghostlike man soaring in height. He wore a black trench coat and thick boots. Though the man looked disheveled, he still made an effort to slick back his ebony ponytail. He was cleanly shaven and was built like a pole his body lacking flesh.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” The General intoned. He quickly gestured the man forward. As the man sloshed toward the crew, Krantz laid the news on them, “This here is your captain.”
Hudson’s jaw dropped how could this washed-up creature be the captain. The captain sauntered to the center where he claimed the Generals spot. He stood still, keeping his distance, unlike the General. “Well isn’t this lovely,” the drenched man grinned revealing his horrid brown teeth.
“Call me Miller.”
After an hour of prolonged lectures from this so-called captain, Hudson had had enough. He could tell this man was ignorant and only cared for himself. Why else would he spend twenty minutes on his third cat’s name? What was the General thinking?
When Miller completed his final sentence, they were liberated and instructed to stand up. Hudson shot a glance at the man that went by the name of Rambo. He stood out from the crew by the way he carried himself, like an angel about to ascend to the heavens. Suddenly the General caught Hudson’s attention.
“It’s time we leave. Follow Sergeant Ford to the exit,” he said as he pointed to a ginger man in navy briefs.
“This way!” They followed Ford to the exit though Hudson stopped by the General.
“Sir.” He uttered politely.
“Hmm?” the general murmured.
“I’m very grateful for this, I really am, but I couldn’t help but notice that it said two years…”
“Yes.” Krantz sang.
“Well two years is a lot of time, and I was wondering if maybe I could visit my mother before leaving.” Hudson coordinates his words in a cautious manner aware that if he spoke anything wrong, he would be thrown off the crew.
Krantz remained quiet for a second for just enough time to raise Hudson’s hopes. Alas, he was no Santa declining coldly with one brief no.
“But sir please!”
Krantz snapped his fingers and Hudson was grabbed by the guards yet again.
Hudson was led through four levels of stairs finally reaching the surface. He stepped out and was amazed to see a whole squad of troops. They yanked him by his collar then proceeded to rush him away.
Hudson noticed helicopters hovering overhead before being thrown into the truck head first. As they headed toward their destination, they were surrounded by a countless number of vehicles all looking alike.
He eventually tore his eyes from the outside world and found himself a corner to lay. He shook as the frigid air pressed him like if he were on the peaks of Mount Everest. Out of the blue, a hand touched him.
“We did it buddy.” the person cheered. Hudson rotated around to view Giovani all up in his face. “Now that we're here, why not put the past in the past, right?” Giovani chuckled with a fake smile.
Hudson had a bad taste in his mouth and knew Giovani was just playing nice alas a friend was a friend, and at these times he needed one.
“Sure!” he smiled tapping his hand on Giovani’s shoulder.
At this time, the car pulled up to an enclosed shoreline. The tide was high, and no one could make out any sand the only thing visible was one lonely dock. Hudson expected a mission like this to at least afford a proper dock, but that wasn’t the case. Its creak was louder than the waves themselves, and the thin wood surface looked like it was only seconds from falling apart.
The dark crescent ocean met Hudson with the scent of the salty sea air. He inhaled it, recollecting the time he went with his mother to the beach. Suddenly he found himself in a line up with the rest of his crew, the guards handing them materials.
A soldier handed Hudson his own set of things, as a vehicle pulled up nearby them. The General stepped out of his carriage-like vehicle with him the president himself, Dwight D. Eisenhower. Hudson nearly fainted as the worried face of the president walked his way.
“Hello,” The President said his voice rapid.
“You all know why you’re here, correct?”
