Page 4 of Sink With Me

He senses my urgency, turning around and silently leading me to whatever the fuck was requiring my attention.

The smell of stale air starts to cloud my senses as he guides the way toward our underground holding cells. Chills wrack my spine from the temperature drop, the damp thickening around me so much I could feel it caress my skin.

“Can you do me a favor and use your words to tell me what the bloody hell we’re doing?” I say under my breath. My tone makes him smooth back his flaming hair, avoiding eye contact and striding in front of me.

“Um—well…” I can feel his anxiety wiggling its way into my chest, spreading from his body to mine. My hand goes to my abdomen, thrumming methodically against the fabric while I calm my breathing.

“I’m just stressed.” I say, somewhat apologetically. He nods in response, but honestly, I don’t know if he believes me. He’s used to this side, but it never makes me feel any less guilty for my annoyance lashing at him. Out of everyone on the base, I’m almost positive he’s the only one who’s recognized my change in the last two years.

“I don’t know. Sam said he couldn’t find what you were looking for but… to come get you and he thinks someone down here could help… or somethin’.”

My eyes roll on their own accord. Teenagers. Was I like this at one point? Unable to create a sentence with any real detail?

We stop outside the door, Sam’s voice audible even through the metal-casing. Realizing where we are, I place my hand on Moe’s shoulder, urging him off. He doesn’t need to be down here.

Once he’s up the steps, I turn towards the haunting entrance, listening to the muffled sound of Sam’s booming demands. Most of the rooms down this corridor are cells. This one, however, is my favorite. The interrogation room. Keeping anger and frustration pent up all the time makes you feel as if there’s a monster inside your body desperately trying to claw its way out, uncaring of the muscle it rips or the bones it breaks. It’s easy to keep it tightly wrapped in skin for some time, but a wild animal can only be caged for so long before it starts to gnaw through the bars of its enclosure. I pull out my keycard, waiting for the flashing light to turn green on the handle. Sometimes it’s best to set it free, even if it’s only for a moment.

In this room, I can do exactly that.

David has been a guest here for almost four months now. Captured after he tried to play undercover and infiltrate our base. It’s a pity that Bay sends these men and women, but never the one I need. He almost succeeded, if I’m being quite honest. A false lead had distracted me towards our shark. I’m glad I didn’t put a bullet in him when I had the chance because it turns out he’s quite useful.

“I don’t fuckin’—” the door slams behind, cutting David off as I round the metal chair that Sam’s cuffed him to. His nose is already broken judging by its shape, each blood drop soaked down his shirt with splatter on the walls and smears over Sam's knuckles. Yet another damn mess to clean up.

“What do you know about Dutton?’’ I’m sure Sam’s already asked him, but it’s obvious he wasn’t getting answers. Taking my time, I unclasp the cuffs from my sleeves and start to roll them. “I need more information about him.” I lean into the table, crossing my feet. I hear the spit before it even lands by my combat boot. Disrespectful. Whoever raised this sod didn’t teach him any manners.

It doesn’t take long for the sound of my knuckles clattering against his teeth to draw out a chilling laugh that echoes in the space. Sam always took delight in watching me do some dirty work. It takes a lot to get me physically involved.

Just like most in the base, I had pulled him—for a price—from a prison a few miles north, arrested for more than eight counts of murder after being honorably discharged from Chaos. His dirty blonde, disheveled hair and wide eyes gives him almost an innocent look, but I know what power lies beneath. I’d put my life in his hands.

“I take it this is gonna be a long night.” Sam mutters under his breath.

He’s right. I’ll break every bone in this twats body until I get my answer. If he fails, I’ll find another source and do the same. Whatever it takes for me to catch my shark and end this war. I never wanted this life, but now that it’s mine and I won’t stop until I succeed. I need to know what the fuck is missing in my layout.

I nod nonchalantly, throwing another punch into David’s jaw for good measure, relishing in the pained groan that rattles his chest. Wrapping my hand into his shirt, I stabilize his body and raise my fist in preparation for another blow, but a delicate knock thumps the door, followed by a buzz that turns both mine and Sam’s heads in that direction.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your—” Jasmine lifts her head momentarily, her gaze lingering on Sam. “Meeting. I just wanted to remind you about your… eh, appointment?”

Sam scoffs and shifts on his feet, clearly getting antsy. Jasmine squints in his direction, mimicking the sound.

“We’ll make this quick, then.” Sam answers as I catch the motion of Jasmine’s freshly painted maroon nails clacking against the metal barrier. My hand flexes then curls into a tight ball over the open air as a bead of sweat creates a slow trail down my back. It’s quiet, but so loud at the same time. Jasmine flicks her gaze to my fist, drawing me to do the same. Each knuckle white, protruding and lightly coated with blood.

God, I fuckin’ hate red.

Date: 4-24-2024

Time: 0857

I love fried food.

The smell wafts through the humid air from the catering trucks on the other side of the security fence as soon as my foot hits the stairs outside the plane, making my stomach rumble. That flimsy flap of metal is the only thing that separates our private airway from the outskirts of town. Whoever’s idea it was to place a strip here was stupid. You used to see kids running all around enjoying school-free weekends, but now that’d be a walking safety hazard. Not to mention the air carriers flying so low emanate a sound loud enough that I have to turn up the volume of my headphones so I can properly hear the music.

I wipe my palms against my navy cargo pants, ridding the sweat that accumulated during landing and my eyes arrive at the blacked-out vehicle which sits idling on the pavement as I pass by the guardhouse. The smell grows stronger, taunting me with the fact that I can’t run to grab a corn dog like the soldiers behind me can. After all, the war hasn’t been won, which means I’m not off the clock. It makes me wonder if I’ll ever get a break to enjoy the things I used to.

Flicking my ponytail over my shoulder, I tug the cable, forcing my earbuds to fall out. I look around at the men and women hugging their family members after their extensive leave from their missions for Bay. It’s sad really, how each soldier is hiding their true purpose from the ones they love. Every smiling face that isn’t dressed in deep blue fatigues is painfully unaware of the war we are fighting. No need to cause panic after The Chaos.

Exhaustion nips at my very being so consistently that I nearly collapse into the backseat of the car, lids heavy enough that the vision of Rosalie sitting poised behind the wheel becomes blurred. I can feel her stare through the rearview mirror, analyzing my every move and searching for some expression of emotion. She’d have an easier time finding a needle in a haystack.

She’s like Karma, always holding her tongue from what she really wants to say, but keeping the atmosphere comfortable enough that I know, for at least a moment, I’m not alone.

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