Agent Harris jumped over the fence unto the soft grass on the other side. He passed across the field like a blur of black; his footsteps quiet as he clung to the shadows. All around him leaves flutter in the light winter wind. Harris fastened his coat; he hated the cold.
The agent had been walking for almost half an hour now and he still had another couple of minutes to go till he reached the drop zone. Harris winced; he had gotten a cramp. He tried to straighten his legs as he walked but it had no effect and he didn’t have anytime; he had a deadline.
Ignoring the pain, Harris pressed on. He was almost there, only a few meters further. Hopefully his source would give him the info and leave; Harris wasn’t feeling any sort of pleasantry but considering his source was Michael he didn’t hold his breadth. Harris stumbled on a rock and cursed; the cold always made him so careless.
Harris got to the drop zone a few minutes before the appointed time; his contact had not yet arrived. Harris took this time to soothe his aching leg; it was some time before the cramp decided to go away. Harris looked out from his hiding spot again; his contact had still not arrived.
The agent was worried; despite all the flaws that Michael may have he was never late. Harris brought out his gun and got it ready; it was already loaded but he double checked to make sure. Checking the magazine revealed that he had six spares, enough for a couple of rounds of gunfire.
Cocking his gun, Harris peeked out from his hideout once more; Michael had still not arrived. Harris was concerned but he couldn’t afford to jeopardise this mission he would wait for five minutes before leaving. He made a mental note to check up on Michael sometime later but he feared the worst; things rarely ended well for secret agents.
Harris was bout to leave when he ducked back into his hiding spot; three strange figures were on the approach. They were quite bulky men dressed in a unique shade of green; forest green. The men may look out of place in a civilised context but in the mass of shrubbery that was the drop zone they were barely recognisable; barely.
Harris watched the men; they looked like they were looking for something, or maybe someone. Someone with information they shouldn’t know; someone like him. Maybe he was just being paranoid but Harris didn’t find it likely that anyone would want to come to this deserted bush, except maybe hikers; hikers were always crazy.
The men were leaving; it seemed that they hadn’t found what they were looking for. They were going up the hill away from the drop zone. Harris waited the customary 3 minutes before leaving just in case they came back. He climbed out of the hiding spot and went down the back side making sure he had vision of the opposing side.
Harris was almost at the bottom of the hill when he saw the men; they had come back and they didn’t look too pleased. Harris didn’t want to believe it but he had to assume that he had been compromised; Michael had sold him out. Not that Harris blamed him of course, it was a common occurrence in his field of work. Harris had just thought that Michael was better than that, way better.
Harris was nearing the base of the hill when he heard the gunshot; the bullet just narrowly missing his head. He turned around to fine one of the men at the top of the hill; smoking gun pointed at him. It wasn’t meant to be a warning shot.
Agent Harris fired off three rounds missing all of them; the man had taken cover. Running down the slope, Harris heard muffled words as the man called to his buddies; they were definitely not hikers.
Harris had barely reached the foot of the hill when he was once more assaulted by a rain of gunfire; bullets hitting the ground like asteroids, leaving dust clouds in their wake. Harris instinctively covered his head with his hands even though he knew it was useless. He had skipped out on his morning cereal so he didn’t have enough iron in his blood to block bullets.
He took a sharp left; running as fast he could admits the sticks and stones. Even with his heart racing and blood pumping, the cold seeped through his bones; he was cold, very cold. He took another right just as a shower of bullets erupted where he just was; dust rising up to the sky.
Harris made a quick turn and shot off some bullets of his own; he wasn’t going to hit anything but he didn’t think anyone would want to run head first into a spray of bullets. Emptying the clip Harris turned back around and continued running; his hands replacing the magazine.
It was getting dark which spelled bad news for Agent Harris; he didn’t know the place very well, instead relying on visual clues and landmarks to keep him going. Less light meant fewer clues which meant a lost agent. Harris could only hope that his pursuers met the same fate though he didn’t hold his breath.
More gunshots erupted; their sounds muffled. The green men had probably stopped to put on their silencers. Not that it mattered much anyway; the place was deserted. Harris pondered at the name ‘green men’. It sounded awkward, out of place … comical even. One would imagine that he was being chased by little green men with large heads and puny bodies. The rampaging giants behind him apparently didn’t get the memo.
Unloading another clip, Harris fired at his pursuers. He was shooting blind, aiming at the thick of the night. Harris took a quick right followed by a left before he realised his mistake; he was surrounded on three sides with walls reaching for the skies. Harris was about to turn back when he heard thundering footsteps. Who knew elephants could run so fast?
Now Harris could wait in the field where the green men would capture him, if he was lucky. He would then proceed to be tortured until he broke and then he would be killed. Agent Harris knew he was going to break; everyone did sooner or later, the question was just how soon? And while he thought he would probably last longer than most, he didn’t;t want to find a definite answer; something about constant, endless suffering followed by cruel and painful demise didn’t sound pleasant. It seemed rather off-putting.
Determined, Agent Harris searched for a means of escape. A saw a window about a storey up on the left wall; it was probably the back of an abandoned warehouse. Harris started scaling up the wall; it was a difficult climb but he would rather not think of the alternative.
Harris was nearly through the window when his pursuers arrived; their green suits sticking out like a sore thumb under the dim street light. Thankfully they didn’t notice him right away; his black suit blending in with the darkness of the night.
But as all things must come to an end, Harris was soon fired at again. Thankfully he managed to get in before he was shot, or at least he thought he did. A quick glance revealed that he had indeed been hit. Luckily for him it was in his thigh; the bullet still lodged inside. Ripping off the sleeve of his shirt, Hairs made a make-shift bandage all the while thinking about how he was going to get through airport security; it would be a very long day at the customs.
Grabbing his gun, Agent Harris fired off bullets at his pursuers, unleashing round after round of little shrubs of metal. They men had strayed from the pale light of the streetlamp but he could guess their positions from the sound of their footsteps. That and the resounding gunfire.
Harris stood up from his hiding spot and proceeded down the stairs. He had managed to feel one of the men but he only had one magazine left and two pushers, he was getting out while he still had the chance.
Upon arriving at the bottom floor, Harris realised that what he had thought was an abandoned warehouse was in fact an abandons butchers; complete with the dangling hooks and dried blood. It would make a great pace for a haunted house, not so much a good place for a man trying to run away. Agent Harris moved quickly but steadily; clinging to the walls as he did so. He would very much like to avoid being gutted; he liked his organs inside his body.
Harris was moving away from the butcher’s when he noticed a trail of blood on the ground beneath him; it was fresh. He decided to follow the tracks and see where it lead, after all he could use it as a diversion from the blood constantly leaking from his wounded thigh.
It wasn’t long until Harris found the source of the blood trail; a heavily wounded and bloodied Michael was crawling on the dirt path. Harris pulled out his gun and aimed at Michael’s head; he had probably been shot after he gave them the information they needed. Harris could have ended it then and there but his fingers failed to pull the trigger; he had grown attached.
Picking up Michael as one would a drunk friend, Harris trudged onward, accompanied by the inaudible mumblings of his partner. It was only when he heard a set of footsteps that Harris remembered the danger they were in. They arrived at the edge of a cliff; surrounded by empty air with nothing but a river a couple of metres below them. It’s flowing waters weren’t harsh but they weren’t exactly swimming material either. Even if Harris wanted to swim, he had a bullet in his thigh; he was pretty sure that didn’t help.
The footsteps were approaching and Harris had to make a choice. Picking Michael back up, he turned around and faced the path, jumping down just as the pursuer had come round the corner.
The first thing Harris felt was the water hitting his back followed by a strange numbing coolness. The bullets crashed down harmlessly in the water; like small metallic raindrops. The water was deeper than he thought and as the world faded into white Harris cursed; the cold always made him so careless.
The Icognito Writer
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