Death of Heart

Jason aims and fires on his target, now all three Agency thugs, victims to the fate of bullets. All three lie on the ground, instantly dead from the sharpshooters. He lowers his rifle, once again, a slight feeling of dread coming over him, despite knowing that killing was necessary.

He sees Nate stirring and looks down to see Mick and Reese as well. There was no more movement…the battle appeared to be over.

Standing, he heads for the side of the building, to shimmy down the battered rain gutter, landing softly on the ground. He approaches the others, giving a glance in Katie’s direction to make sure she’s okay as well.


Mick blinks and looks up at Reese, feeling he’s finally on the right side. “Am I glad to see you.”

As the gunfire ceases, Reese can’t help but give Mick a chuckle. “And we’re glad to see you alive, too. Come one, let me get those ropes cut.”

Mick turns around so Reese can cut him loose, and finally gets to his feet, trying to get his bearings. “Where are we?”

“Hobart street.”

“No…I mean…what state?”

Reese raises his eyebrows. “Nevada.”

“I wondered if that was the case.”

“How much do you know?”

Mick shakes his head. “Nothing. All I know is they were supposed to trade me for someone named Carson because he was the key to where a computer chip was. That’s it. I didn’t know where I was or anything.”

“Well come on. Let’s check on the others and get out of here.”

“What’s going on, guys?”

“Scott!” Reese had almost forgotten. “Hang in there. A report is coming.” He steps out of the shadows with Mick to look around, checking on their team.

Mick spots Jason and smiles. “Hey, Jason!”

Jason offers a handshake. “Mick. Good to see you.”

“No kidding. And Katie!” Mick’s smile widens. “Your aunt would kill you if she knew you were out in this…but I sure am glad you were.”


Carson watches from the roof, taking everything in. He would be the last one down, ensuring the team below him was fine. He sees Reese…Nate…Jason…Katie… He hears others talking, and knows that Rick and Hal are almost on the scene now too, to clean up.


Wyatt makes his way from down the block, still keeping his eyes pealed, though everything appeared calm. Suddenly movement catches his eye and he glances upward. His pulse quickens.


Out of the blue, Wyatt’s voice comes over the mic. “Carson! On your right, on your right!”

Carson spins around to see an assailant coming towards him on the roof. Their handgun was drawn and aimed at him. In a split second, he shoulders his rifle, his eye zeroing in on his target. Not giving himself even an instant to hesitate, he squeezes the trigger.

His target drops their gun, stumbling backward. Their hand goes to their chest before they fall to a still heap.

Carson slowly lowers his rifle and stares at the motionless body, his adrenaline racing. That had been too close. He approaches slowly, kicking the handgun out of the way just in case, ready to fire again if need be.

But as he nears, his heart leaps into his throat.

No…

As his face pales, his own gun slips from his hands. He slides to his knees next to Ashlyn, witnessing what his own actions had done.

Her eyes flutter open and she stares up at Carson for a moment. A smile curls her lips, her voice coming out hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Nice shot.”

Carson draws back a little, the horror of this scene clawing at him. “Dang it Ashlyn. Why…?”

Ashlyn moves her hand from her wound where blood pours forth. Reaching up, she puts Carson’s own hand in a vice grip. “We had some good times, didn’t we…”

Carson grits his teeth, her hand grasped in his. “I’m sorry.”

A dry laugh comes out as a cough. “I didn’t give you any choice,” she whispers. “Don’t let them take you…you deserve…better… I….” Suddenly her grip loosens, her eyes absorbing a dim and lifeless shadow. Her breathing ceases, not to be resumed again.

Carson can only stare at her for several moments, a million thoughts running through him all at once, colliding in a single wreck of chaos.

“Carson….you alright?” Wyatt’s voice comes through again. “What happened?”

Carson gently lowers Ahslyn’s hand and reaches out to brush her eyes closed, his finger stroking her cheek. His stomach churns, threatening to make him sick. It’s hard to find his voice. “I’m fine…enemy down.”

Standing, he looks at his own hand that’s covered in Ashlyn’s blood. So many times he’d wished he’d have the chance to kill her…and now that it was done…it made him loath the very reflex that had caused him to pull the trigger.

Picking up his rifle he looks at it, the anger within him rising to a height beyond his control. Taking the gun by the barrel, he hurls it with force, letting it fly across the rooftop. It lands hard, skidding across the surface.

Wyatt stares up at the roof, confused as he sees Carson’s gun fly. “Carson, what’s going on?”

Carson’s jaw is locked firmly as he fights within himself. “Just get someone up here to take care of this body.” He stares out into the setting sun, his voice wrought with emotion. “And give it a respectful burial.” Not waiting for a response, Carson removes his mic, shutting off his connection with the team. He walks across the roof to where his gun is and picks it back up, slinging it over his shoulder to head for the fire escape.

Making it back to ground level, he nods to Hal and Rick who were there to help clean up the area before the law showed up, and they head up the ladder.

Wyatt catches sight of Carson. “Hey, what happened up there?”

“I almost got killed. Thanks for warning me.”

“Yeah sure. Anybody important?”

“Just Agency scum. Let’s get out of here before anybody else shows up.”

Rick and Hal manage to bring the body back down to ground level where they prepare to get rid of all evidence, along with the other downed Agency members. As they lay her by the others, Wyatt's eyes widen. "It's Ashlyn." He glances to Carson. "Good land..."

Carson warns him with his eyes not to even go there.

Wyatt swallows hard, and tries to resume his focus. “Alright, is everyone here?” He starts counting heads. “Misty….where’s Misty?”

Carson is immediately alerted.

Wyatt taps his mic. “Hey, Misty…come in…where are ya?”

Carson’s blood runs cold. He looks down the street to the building where he’d positioned Misty. He saw nothing. His instincts kick into overdrive and he grips his rifle. Without even thinking, he breaks into a sprint.

Jason looks to him quickly. “Carson! Wait!” Too late, his words go unheard. “Idiot!” Taking his own gun, he heads behind him. Even with his long legs though, it’s impossible to catch up to Carson’s fast sprint.

Carson’s feet pound the pavement until he reaches the building where Misty was. All caution has flown, and he enters the shadows. Suddenly he sees Misty in a heap on the ground. “Misty!”

Adrenaline taking over, he kneels quickly, checking her pulse. She was still alive, but barely breathing. A curse escapes under Carson’s breath and he stands, looking around. Too angry to even think, he aims for the nearest corner, again sprinting to where his instincts lead, and rounds the building quickly without caution. He sees the back of a man halfway down the block. The man’s casual pace signals that he knew what was going on, and there could only be one reason for his presence.

Without giving any warning whatsoever, Carson raises his rifle to his shoulder and unloads. The lever flying with each shot, Carson fires without remorse into the enemy’s back until the body finally falls to the ground.

Jason slides down next to Misty, his head shooting up at the sound of gunfire. “Carson! What’s going on?!” Looking back at Misty, he sees the wound and feels sick. “Rick…Rick, come in. Get over here NOW. Misty’s down. Repeat. Misty’s down.”

The next fifteen minutes are a blur. Both vans are brought around. Hal, Reese and Wyatt remain to clean up. All of the others pile into the other van to head back to TJY as quickly as possible.

Carson sits in the back of the van, holding Misty across his lap, one hand behind her head, the other pressed onto her wound to try and slow the bleeding as instructed by Rick. “Come on, Sassy,” he whispers. “Don’t do this to me…not now…” He wants to scream. He wants to stop and run. He wants to throw himself at the mercy of some wretched truck if just to end this all. He’s had no time to think. He’s had no time to process. Ashlyn was dead. Misty was dying. Both were his fault.