Part 6: Exodus

November 10th 2008

To Whom It May Concern:

Okay this is good we're starting to develop some sentiment towards the characters their thought processes and the decisions they're making. I hope you're ready for this...

I'm looking for another venue or online based community to share this work, so if you think that this is worth investing a little extra online time it'd be greatly appreciated. I like to thank everyone for their comments last note, and I ENCOURAGE YOU ALL TO RESPOND TO EACH OTHER. Reading that is simply inspiring.As always the beginning of the story will be the last few paragraphs of the last story. Big ups to Obama! Yes We Can.

Now with no further ado I present Silhouette:

Where did he go? Anxiety enters with the moonlight. It slithers across the hardwood floor, passed the tapestry, passed the wine cabinet with the phone, and over to Delilah. Panic starts to pull at he. She feels her legs get weak.

She jumps startled as she hears shots fire in the hall.

She falls back in horror, and puts her hands over her mouth to keep herself from screaming. The feel of her own fingers brings to mind the hands that just touched her mouth. His hands, his dead cold hands. Why did she let him go out there? And now that he was gone who was going to protect her. He was dead she knew it, and it was all her fault. Just like the broker, just like Allen. She was a dark omen, with the blood of men on her hands and in her shadow. Don't scream, she screams in her mind. Don't scream; more shots fire. Than all that's left is silence.

The door burst open. She screams and fires four times...

Her hands fall to the side. The freshly fired gun warms her hands. She feels the muscle strain from the recoil. The air still rings with the echo of gun shots.

Death enters the room with the moonlight and the wind. He swoons over his victim and kisses him. Delilah watches. I just killed a man is the first thought she thinks. Then she exhales. The situation dulls the buzz of the wine, and sobers her. I am the hunter, she remembers. Memories of her training at the department flash through her mind:

She could still visualize the dull grey firing range. It was in the basement of the division building in Arizona. She had stood in a line of 25 recruits from all the different sectors of government, business, and the armed forces. She was invited for her skills with technology, but she was selected for her accuracy:

"Two in the head two in the heart" Don screams as she aims at the dummy.

Four shots ring out.

"Very good, Janine."

"Thank you, Don."

"You're going to make an excellent field agent."

She laughs. I'm going to make an excellent field agent she thinks. Her body moves mechanically all her emotions are drained from her. All that's left are instincts and detached thoughts.

"Watch the windows," Anderson had said. She crawls over to the dead body. The first thing she notices is the bowl hat near the head. The man's face was torn and bloody. His clothes quickly soak with blood, quicker than the broker she thinks. She looks into the hallway, remembering Anderson saying that maybe their were more. She peeks her head out the door swiftly and comes back, no one to the left. She sticks her head out once more to the right.

"Delilah."

"Shit..." she gets off of her knees and runs to him. Laying slump in the midst of the hallway lay the wounded lion of a man.

"Good shooting." he croaks bloody.

"Anderson, you're shot."

"Flesh wound." he tries to stand, but groans in pain. He manages to sit forward with her help.

"You're crazy."

"That's how we have to be." He breathes heavy. She examines the wounds, nothing had penetrated any major arteries...he would live. Her hands caress his face tenderly.

"Think we woke the neighbors?" she flashes a smile. He laughs in pain and spits blood.

"They're pretty solid sleepers, but yes."

"I'm glad you wore your vest."

"We can't stay here...." he forces himself to his feet. The wound in his arm and shoulder drip onto the carpet.

"Shhh.. They never send one, its always two. His partner will be here soon when he doesn't check in."

He walks slowly to the dead body in his doorway and looks it up and down. He kicks it once. He kicks it twice.

"What happened?"

"When I came out the door I just rushed him. We fought a bit. Than I lost my footing, and my shoe. He gun butted me and shot me three times. That's when he kicked in the door and you shot him."

"I killed a man."

"Yes a bad man, he shot me, and was going to ki-" she silences him with a bloodied finger to his lips. His blood is sticky between his mouth and her finger.

"It's okay Anderson, I knew the consequences." she pause for a brief moment. "What now?" she asks.

"We get out."

"We have to clean this up somehow."

Delilah runs to the bathroom and grabs cleaning materials. Mop...Bucket... Bleach... 407... Ammonia... Pine for the hardwood. I just killed a man, she thinks once more. Her hands move precisely, she had to be strong. When she returned from the bathroom Anderson had already wrapped the body in plastic, and was putting it into a large duffle bag.

"How'd you like your first week in the field?"

She doesn't respond. She pours pine and ammonia on the floor haphazardly and mops as fast as she can. The world is music and sloshing buckets.

"Turn that music off," she commands. He complies.

Anderson walks back into the living room. They stand across the room from each other, the couch in between. Moments earlier there was a dead body where she stood, now the room looks as inviting as it ever did. As he gets closer she can smell the gasoline on his clothing.She surveys the room. It looks almost as clean as when they first arrived.

They walk to the doorway together.

"Did you leave the pilates on like I asked?"

"Yes."

"Did you call the police from the house line?"

"Yes."

"I just got a text from Don."

"Then shall we?"

The two turn and leave the apartment side by side. As they exit Anderson pulls out two cigarettes. He lights both. He takes one pull of the first. Then he lights the other. He tosses it lightly in the air.
The gasoline meets the cigarette, the embers of the tobacco excite the sodden hardwood floor.

As they exit out the back they hear the room explode. Sirens blare in the distance growing nearer. She clutches to Anderson side, to help him stay afloat.

Vrrm. A bullet whizzes by her head and fractures the building behind her. She throws Anderson to the side and pulls her gun. Two more bullets whiz by...