Asunder Read online

  Hazel stood up from the comfy blanket taking her rifle in hand. She was shorter in height—Only five feet even, and at eighteen she passed for much younger. Her hair was short and black and wavy from the mix of her parent's heritages and her skin was a rich caramel. "Ha, just watch me." She aimed the rifle to the blue sky. "Ready."

  Luc pulled the lever sending the disc high into the air. The mark shattered, and she celebrated her victory with a cheer.

  "I can't believe they're tearing this place down tomorrow." Luc watched the waning sun over the horizon of the old mill, filled with nostalgia and loved it to a degree. He remembered playing with Jona when they were children, running around the field and climbing onto the abandoned forklift inside.

  "Yeah, like the world needs another mall." Hazel sighed feeling the same way. She remembered following Luc around like a baby chick, and him sending her away whenever they crossed the long stretch of the field; a shortcut to the old YMCA, which was now a daycare center.

  Luc held his foot steady on the lever. "One last time. Send this place off with some style." He aimed his rifle predicting the right spot where the disc would fly.

  "All right."

  He released two volleys into the air; both targets scattered with ease. They sat down to enjoy the bounty of delicious greasy food. He unboxed the small round strawberry cake with the number eighteen planted in the center.

  "Oh my God it's so cute!" Hazel laughed as Luc lit the candle and held the cake for her to blow out the single candle. She clapped in celebration as he sat the cake down.

  "I knew you would have wanted to get that out of the way."

  "Yes!" She nodded. "It's my birthday, I don't see why I can't eat frosting and greasy food at the same time." She raised her head in a dignified manner.

  "And it's your right to blow up my toilet later." He laughed.

  "Darn skippy!" She raised a wine cooler in response.

  Spinach and feta pizza, veggie chili cheese fries in sour cream, and bread sticks. Carbs, carbs, and more carbs.

  Luc chomped on a mouthful of fries drowned in cheese, 'meat' sauce and sour cream. "Do you think I'm too nice?" He wiped his mouth and tried to swallow the half-chewed food for the discussion.

  "Yes, but that's what I love about you."

  "Elena told me... She wished Jona dead because she was in love with me."

  "What a bitch!" Hazel tossed her pizza in the box, her scowling face was flustered and hot with growing rage. "That isn't love, I wouldn't know much as I've never been in love but when you love someone you're supposed to look out for their best interests."

  "Everything went horribly wrong." He stabbed his fries with a plastic fork, on the verge of losing his appetite.

  "The day you change to become like the rest of the people on this planet is the day I'll drown in my tears. People love tearing others down. You're one of those rare people in this world who aren’t like that."

  Hazel grabbed his hand, comforting him. "You have a big heart and I would hate to see it disappear because some former fat bitch thinks you owe her your life because you didn't treat her like shit. I loved Jona, she was the best match for you, and I can understand why it's hard to move on. I've told no one this but you, not even Jona knew... well unless you told her, but I hate cake, I've always hated cake, I've never tasted a single cake that made me change my mind about it. But I've always loved Jona's homemade cakes. I don't know what she did that was different but... They were good."

  "I love you."

  "Love you too."

  They wrapped their arms around each other in a warm hug and he kissed her lovely cheeks.

  "Happy Birthday." He said passing her a long-wrapped box, which she happily tore off revealing the long and short blades of a Katana.

  "It's high quality, and sharp so be careful..." He warned.

  "Oh my God!" Awe formed on her soft features at the striking design of white bone hilts with silver inlays.

  Etched on the blade: 'Still beautiful, still sharp' an inside joke shared between the two.

  Hazel smiled, she had a bad night, but this was the touch of light needed. "Thank you, so much. I love this." She knew Luc could always understand her.

  "You better, it took forever. Toshiro was on major back order, I had to pay through the nose to push up the order."

  "Money well spent if I say so myself." She said with a faux haughty accent.

  "Here's something from Jonathan." he said rummaging through the bags. "And Michael and Shane, and of course Dad... my Dad..." he pulled out the wrapped presents one by one.

  "Yay." Hazel clapped fast and soft.

  "When are you moving in?" Luc wrapped up the now cold meal.

  "Hopefully tomorrow."

  "You remember the code?"

  "Yes."

  "Good girl."

  Chapter Two

  Bricktown, separating the Renaissance Center from Greek town. Home to Paul's Catholic Church, the oldest standing church in Detroit, and the Italian Renaissance style buildings. Tunes from live bands played from the various pubs and venues. A lone server cleaned the outdoor tables of the local cafe.

  Luc steered the vehicle through the streets, the music just right and Hazel in a passenger seat dancing to the beat with gifts and cold food piled in the back. They stopped at a red light enjoying the sights of downtown in the midst of yet another attempt to revitalize itself.

  The light turned green yet Luc didn't step on the gas; he focused on the woman walking down the street; her gaze forward as she marched. Half her face shielded by the Detroit Tiger's cap on her head, but when turned for a moment, he knew, it was her.

  "Hazel." Luc said ignoring the hooking horns from angry drivers. "Take the wheel and go home."

  "Work?" She asked flatly.

  "Yes."

  They switched fast and Luc was out the car and heading across the wide streets to follow the familiar figure.

  He jogged to catch up as she turned the corner and he soon calmed himself and followed behind at a decent pace. 'Why the hell is she here?' He thought maintaining a decent pace.

  The inconspicuous woman sprinted toward Greektown without notice and Luc was now hot on her heels. He thought he was careful, maintaining a good distance away but somehow, she knew he was there and now she attempted to flee. This was no agent or recruit, but a high-profile target rumored to be hiding somewhere in Germany, now she was in Detroit. Why? he had no idea and needed to find out.

  They both pushed through the crowd of party goers just as the sun began its journey behind the moon. The nimble woman ran up the emergency staircase of the people mover, jumping the turnstile with Luc doing the same. A guard shouted at them and gave chase. She hopped on board the soon to be departing train, Luc tossed the guard out of his and sprinted inside after her. She punched and kicked at him like a trapped animal choosing to stand her ground and fight. Luc dodged each potential blow until a well-placed kick knocked him back. The woman ran for the exit when a kick knocked her back into the mover slamming her head against the glass with enough force to crack it. She missed her chance, the train was now taking off, with her on it. She groaned as she looked up and saw her newest assailant, it was Hazel. Luc watched her both surprised and angry but there was no time to argue. They rushed her, Luc and Hazel landing various blows but the woman gave as good as she got until eventually slamming Hazel against Luc.

  The explosion shook the ground rocking the parked cars high into the air, blasting out a puff of white smoke engulfing the people as it covered everything like a monster searching for a meal to devour. Debris blasted high slamming hard everywhere onto people, to the street, to the cars which crashed to the ground. Blood coated everything, the pavement, the people, and the bricks from nearby businesses strewn across the street. The people cried, brains from crushed skulls coated the concrete.

  Luc gripped Hazel as tight as they were flung like rag dolls when the mover blew from the track, smashing and twisting and skidding in a full turn until it groun
d to a halt.

  Luc coughed up phlegm and particles of stone and dust from his scratchy throat, the soot caked in his nostrils. He lifted himself up, his body aching with each movement and to his horror Hazel lay lifeless next to him. "Hazel!" He shook her hard, no response. He checked her pulse and breathing. She was alive and her pulse was strong. "Why did you come here?" He scolded, but he knew she couldn't answer. He looked around to assess the situation he was in. Thankfully no one else was on board the ill-fated transport train. He dragged Hazel from the smoking car. "Why did you have to do something so stupid!" He cried lifting her into his arms only to find he had no way to climb the twisted metal that trapped them inside.

  A young man about six feet three inches in height and light reddish hair clipped into a buzz cut, he placed his hands on his bloody tank top nursing the deep and painful slash on his abdomen. He stood limping surprised he wasn’t dead and mouthing a 'Thank you' to the stars while hobbling toward the sidewalk, stumbling from the carnage and landing on the curb near what could have been a sidewalk—which was now a heap of stone and brick covered in blood and limbs. He rubbed his stiff neck, but the pain vanished as fast as it had arrived. He searched around but found himself trapped in a sphere of fiery twisted metal and train cars. 'This does not look good.' he thought as the heat and smoke rose.

  "Hey!" Luc called out to him. "What's your name?" He looked to the bike then to him unable to understand how he survived.

  "Varick." The man replied still looking for a way out.

  "I need you to help me lift this."

  Varick looked to the unconscious girl and the man begging for aid, he had no desire to help either. "You're on your own, pal." He spotted a way out and made the climb over the heated barrier.

  "Asshole!" Luc shouted. He went back to Hazel's side lifting her up again, prepared to do something reckless. He figured he could throw her over the car and scale it after but too many things could go wrong. She was unconscious, covered in cuts and welts and possibly concussed or bleeding internally... but the alternative was remaining trapped in a ring of a burning train. Just as he resigned to the weight of his choice to toss her over....

  "Shit." Varick whispered dropping back down. "You take that side and I'll get the other."

  Luc looked up to see the other man was returning. "Thanks." He said placing Hazel on the ground and grabbing the other end of the hunk of metal. "It's impossible to move the car, but this part is loose we can move that enough to create an opening." Luc instructed.

  "Whatever you say, I better not regret this." Varick said grabbing the other side.

  They both used their strength to push and pull at the metal bit before rocking it enough to slid it out enough for a body to squeeze through. Luc hear it give way and rushed to grab Hazel.

  "Hurry!" Varick shouted.

  "She's smaller so we can get her through."

  They shimmied by the heap until they reached the EMT on the other side who gawked in shock at the trio who emerged from what he concluded was a wreck no one could survive from. "We need a gurney!" He shouted taking Hazel to the ambulance. Luc turned to thank the fellow with the angry tattoos but he was gone.

  Phones rang back to back, personnel scrambling and emailing, faxing; trying to calm the hysteria. Discarded papers littered the floor, a fresh pot of coffee sat untouched, the wailing cries of friends and loved ones and the outcry of the media looking for answers echoed from outside. Morning had come yet it felt like one long continuous day with no end in sight.

  Elena parked her car within the gated lot which swarmed with reporters, station crews, and cameramen standing about while others sat on the hot pavement. Several reporters ran to her waving their mics and cameras in her face but she remained silent as she marched inside.

  Mr. Dunham, a big, African-American man of fifty years old exited his office with a team of agents behind him. He was tired and hungry, he could still smell the salsa and chips from his office and on his hands and his stomach growled even more than before. He issued orders in his usual tone, which was akin to a grumpy grandfather. The highlighted map of Detroit adorned the wall, red filled several locations around the city. He directed everyone's attention to the map of the United States with red dots covering parts of the country.

  "What is this?" Elena looked over the map and the pins marking locations and times.

  An agent turned to her, Tony, a guy who had been trying to date her since she worked there, replied. "Detroit wasn't the only location attacked. Gary Indiana, Rockford Illinois, and Montgomery Alabama all suffered the same damn chaos last night."

  "Somebody had to have seen something. There is no way they can pull this off without a mistake." Dunham dismissed the entourage of officers to speak to Elena. "I hear your boyfriend got caught up in the blast."

  "Luc?" Elena asked worried.

  Dunham smirked knowingly, not quite disdainfully at her. "Some of my people saw him at Henry Ford." He watched her expression change though she tried to keep herself in check. "See you still haven't let go of that torch."

  Elena felt herself grow hot with anger yet she tried to maintain her composure just long enough to guide him to her office and shut the door. "My personal life isn't your business." Elena shot back.

  Dunham laughed. "But it is, it is. You have nothing to fear. I like you, you have heart, which is why I need you to do something."

  "No. I'm done. I told Luc I never wanted to see him again. I'm washing my hands clean of everything."

  Dunham changed, his expression darkened and his demeanor was frosty. "There isn't enough soap in the world that could wash your sins away."

  Luc waited by Hazel's bedside, according to the doctors she was lucky to get a private room at the rate the beds were filling up. She laid there, hooked to the machines and tubes running from her nose to aid in breathing. He thought of Jona again and ran over a million different scenarios of how he could have stopped the woman before this happened. 'If I had fought harder, thought of a way to trip her up, anything.'

  "Son! Thank the Gods you're okay! I was worried all night and so has your mother." The older man with salt and pepper hair entered with an older blond-haired woman and entering behind them was a dark-skinned French woman on the verge of tears. Luc hugged them all and gave up his seat for the woman to sit while his parents took the other two chairs in the room. he stood by the door.

  "What on earth happened?" The man looked to Luc upset.

  "Now now David." The woman patted his hand to calm him.

  "You weren't supposed to be in the country and if you were here after assignment then why did you see her?"

  "You're blaming me?" Luc said though he wasn't surprised.

  "Then who should I blame? Her?" David gestured to Hazel.

  "Please." The blond-haired woman tried to calm him.

  "No Linnea, enough is enough." David huffed. "I know she may have gotten herself involved, she always wanted to be like you, and you're reckless. Reckless agents don't last long believe me, I've seen more than my fair share of friends die because they can't let one go."

  "Please take your fight somewhere else." The brown skinned woman cried. "If not, I'll have you both thrown out and Linnea and I will just mourn her together."

  "She's not dead." Luc scoffed.

  "Sorry, Nina." David sighed. "And I'm sorry Luc, I didn't mean to blame you."

  "No, it was my fault. If I had just kept driving, took Hazel home, we would have been far away from all of this, I didn't..."

  A knock on the door interrupted the family, it was Elena peeking in trying her best not to disturb the family. "Sorry, I saw you..."

  "Yeah." Luc exited the room with her.

  "Is that Hazel? I'm so sorry." The urge to hug him won out, and she wrapped her arms around him. "How bad?"

  "I don't know, she's been out of it all night. It's reminding me too much of Jona."

  Elena swallowed hard and followed him toward the perched TV in the waiting area.

  "Sorry,
I need to see the news." Luc explained. "Have you heard of any reports of people suffering from flu-like symptoms?"

  "I just got here."

  "I need to see if this is similar to what happened to her."

  Elena huffed in annoyance at the sound 'that woman's' name, her body tensed and she folded her arms onto herself. "Not every crime in the world is linked to Jona."

  "The bomb that went off on her eight years ago emitted a small cloud of white smoke which dissipated fast. She was sick almost immediately afterwards. She was sweating and coughing. We all thought she had the flu." He bristled with fire, lost in the painful memories. "and then..."

  "I'm not going through this with you again. For eight years you have gone on a manhunt for anyone suspected of planting the bomb that killed her. Even when you've had next to no evidence or leads, even when the FBI told you to leave it alone."

  "Dunham had his reasons for telling me to leave it alone." Luc sneered. "And he'll answer for that someday along with anyone who helped him."

  The news report appeared on the screen; he turned his full attention to the report. There was no point fighting with Elena. He understood why she was tired of hearing of Jona and so he decided to never trouble her with it again.

  "Thousands are dead after several explosions rocked Detroit's Downtown district. Bodies are still being recovered but the death count is in the hundreds. The last of last night's fires have been put out..." The anchor woman listened to a new piece of information... "I'm just getting word that several people have been admitted in the hospital... but for a flu? I don't see how that is... I have shocking news, since last night's attack over 200 people have been admitted to hospitals all over the Detroit area for flu like symptoms. Whether or not this is related to the attack is anyone's guess. We have word from our President."

  The screen jump cut to the Oval office conference room where President John Bremen, a man of forty years old with a medium build and silvery white hair and crystal eyes approached the White House podium to the onlookers of reporters and flashing lights. "My fellow Americans. Last night at approximately 8:45 pm Detroit, Michigan along with Gary Indiana, Rockford Illinois, and Montgomery Alabama were attacked. The explosions took the lives of over seven hundred Americans and counting. I wish I can tell you that the worse is over, it is not. The Terrorists who perpetrated this attack used chemical weaponry and because of this. Many survivors are falling ill."