Stranger in the Night
The strong crips breeze gives the night a wintry feel. Shivering, Antonio pulls his collar around his neck and quickens his pace. It wasn't just the Arctic air that had him on edge; years of living on the streets conditioned him to survive more frigid nights than this. His uneasiness stems from the dangerous task at hand.
"I'm a hitman, damn it, one of the best around. I don't have the time nor desire to execute the job of a common crook. Shoving his nose in the air, Antonio continues down the road.
Antonio has a stellar reputation for being the best snipper around, as well as he should be. He can shoot a man from 3800 yards and stab a man strolling past without anyone catching on, but breaking into a home in the middle of the night isn't his forte. Antonio would've told other requesters to screw themselves, but it was Romero, and he made him what he is today.
The object he's after is a thirty-two GB flash drive. It contains enough information to put Romero and all his crew away for life.
He arrives to find the woman's apartment is an older Victorian that the owner split in the center, turning a single-family home into a duplex while preserving its original charm. The home's lavender exterior highlights the Victorian white wrap-around porch. Like most in its time, the veranda has fancy-turned spindles and lacy stick work. The large bell tower to the right adds to its grand appeal.
Antonio circles the block, looking for the best point of entrance, witnesses, and security cams. Satisfied he's in the clear, he pulls a tool from his pocket and gets to work.
He hears sheets rustle and moans when his feet touch the floor. He pulls the thick red velvet curtains in front of him and waits.
Antonio's heart pounds fiercely in his chest; his breathing is quick and shallow. Beads of sweat pop out across his forehead despite the frigid air bellowing through the thin glass. A clock's faint ticking in the distance adds to his fear.
"I knew this was a bad idea. I just knew it."
He glances at the window and then the room again.
"I'll come back tomorrow when she's gone." He starts to climb outside when his boss's warning echoes in his head.
"Deported and assassinated, that's what'll happen to us."
Fine, I'll stay, he huffs. Closing the window, he waits.
After what seems like forever, the noise finally subsides. Antonio pulls a penlight out of his pocket and begins his search.
The furniture is minimal, a faded olive loveseat with a worn, lighter green lazy boy. A dented coffee table sits in front of the sofa, with matching end tables on either side. All five pieces are a catch-all for clothes and junk. What didn't make it onto the furniture is strewed across the dusty, hardwood floor. Housekeeping isn't one of her strong suits. Wading through all the clutter, Antonio carefully searches through her things.
He's on the far side of the apartment when she stirs again. He hurries over to the darkened hallway and waits. The noise stops as quickly as it begins.
I need to find the gym bag and go, he thinks, surveying the mess.
Antonio discovers a small tote lying by the door. He dashes towards it. A small area rug catches the tip of his boot. Pitching forward, Antonio lands across the coffee table. The furniture collapses, sending him to the floor. Afraid the commotion woke her, Antonio scampered to his knees. Hearing footsteps, he looks over and sees a long, thin object whizzing toward his head.
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The soft moonlight glows through the second-story window. Joe and Rachel Bower are trying to catch up on some much-needed rest. Their infant son, Joe Jr., is sleeping peacefully in the nursery.
Joe is the captain of the Berryville Pd. Rachel is his sergeant and wife. The couple grew up together, so it wasn't a big shock when they announced their engagement. A few of their friends asked what took them so long.
Joe is startled awake by the baby's cries. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and then glances at the clock. You were up just a few hours ago, little man. He grumbles. Joe looks over to find his beautiful wife sleeping peacefully beside him. Rachel needs her rest. The baby's wails thunder through their tiny two-bedroom, second-story apartment. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he whispers. He slips his legs out from the warm covers and shivers. The baby's protests get louder. Hold your little horses. He thinks, heading down the hall.
The baby's chubby arms flailing around when Joe flips on the light. "You have yourself all worked up." Joe lifts the tiny infant to his shoulder and pats his back. "There, there, it'll be alright, little guy."
A warm sensation runs down his bare chest. "Now I understand why you're so upset." Holding the child arm's length away, Joe continues across the floor. "It's alright. Daddy will take care of his little man."
Joe lays him on the changing table and removes his soiled clothes. He quickly discovers a smelly surprise sliding down the infant's leg. A larger portion had already puddled in his pajama feet.
"I think you need a bath."
"Is the baby alright?" Yawning, Rachel leans against the door. Her face is pale, and her long, chocolate hair is a frightful mess.
If only they could see her now. Joe chuckles. He overheard her friends comment about how she always seems so put together. What they don't realize is how long it takes. "He's fine; go on back to bed."
"Be careful when you change him because he might...." A small yellow stream shoots from their son. She snickers. "Pee on you," she finishes.
Joe shakes his head. "Thanks for the warning."
"No problem." Chuckling, she shuffles back to bed
"We both need a bath now, little guy."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The bright moonlight glows through the large picture window. Wind bellows through the paper-thin walls. With a death grip on the bat, Abby uses every bit of strength she can muster to swing the metal bat around.
Snatching the object from her hand, Antonio shoves her to the floor. Springing to his feet, he pulls the knife from his pocket and holds it against her throat. "Give me the gym bag, and I'll leave. Scream, and I'll cut you."
Tears stream down Abby's cheeks when she says, "It's... It's over there." She points to the far side of the room.
Antonio looks over and then back at her. "If you scream, run, or even attempt to run, I won't hesitate to kill you, understand?"
"Y... Yes." She gulps.
"Good." He grabs a handful of mousy brown hair and drags her across the room. Dumping the junk from the dining room chair, he tosses her twig-like body down. Leaning over her, Antonio growls, "Don't move a muscle, or else." He holds the knife to her throat. "Got it?"
"Y... Yes," she cries.
Snatching up the bag, he turns it upside down. Items scatter across the floor. Once empty, Antonio turns it inside out and rips the lining. Discovering the flash drive isn't there, he turns toward Abby and asks. "Where is it, huh? Where did you put the flash drive?"
"What... What flash drive?"
He shoves the tote in her face. "The one in this bag."
"I... I don't know what you're talking about," she lies.
He pushes his knife against her throat. "Give it to me, now or die."
"I... It was empty, honest." She nervously looks towards the desk.
"It's in there, is it?" He pulls out the drawer and dumps its contents on the floor. Not finding the flash drive, he pushes his knife against her throat harder than before. Tears spill down her cheeks; her body trembles. I wish I hadn't got rid of the thing now.
Fire shoots from his eyes when he growls. "This is your last chance. Either tell me where it is or else."
"I... I..."
"Don't think I'm playing' 'cause I'm not." He shoves the tip of the blade into her throat.
A small stream of blood trickles down her chest.
"Well?"
Glancing toward the door, Abby yells, "Call 911.
Antonio turns to see who snuck up.
Springing from her chair, Abby darts across the apartment floor. "Help me, please, somebody help me," she screams.
His heavy footsteps are a few feet behind her. Locking her bedroom door, she runs to the window and shoves the curtain aside. The doorknob jiggles. Abby screams.
The man pounds on the barrier. "Open this door, or I'll break it down."
Abby tried to open the window, but it wouldn't budge. Open, damn it, open.
The man beats on the door again. Abby jerks on the handle, but the frame doesn't move. I'll break the glass. Abby's reaching for the table lamp when she remembers the lock. She unfastens the window and tries again. The window slides with ease.
Abby is climbing through when the door flies open. Screaming, she scurries through.
Racing across the room, Antonio reaches through the window. Grabbing a fist full of hair, he drags her back inside.