The Sixth Seal

The enormity of everything that had happened over the last couple of days pressed down on Ana, making it difficult for her to breathe. She kissed Lee on the cheek one final time and sat back in the seat. She sobbed. For how long, she didn’t know. It was only the sound of sirens that brought her back to the moment.

She checked the gun. Empty. She pulled another clip out of the glovebox and reloaded. A little yellow slip of paper with neat printing rested on top of a roadmap inside the compartment. She didn’t recognize the address, but stuck it in her pocket along with the map. There was no name on the paper, but she would worry about that when the time came. For now, she needed to get as far away from the car as possible. The police would most certainly want to detain a woman covered in blood with a gun leaving the scene of an accident.

She looked in the rearview mirror, and did her best to wipe the blood from her cheek. A second later a big, black Mercedes screeched to a halt at the end of the alley. Something just below the surface roiled up within her, something dark and familiar. It was the rage.

Two men erupted from the back of the Mercedes, each taking up positions on either side of the alley. The driver stepped out and took cover behind the hood.

“Ana, come out slowly. We don’t want to hurt you.”

She didn’t bother with a reply. Instead, she shot the back glass out of the BMW and peppered the front tire of the Mercedes with bullets. The man behind the hood ducked down further, but didn’t return fire. One of the other men was crouched behind a dumpster. She lost sight of the third.

The wail of the sirens grew louder. She assessed the car in front of her. They would be in a hurry to grab her before the police arrived.

She pushed her door open, fired off several rounds toward the dumpster, and then darted from the car to a recessed doorway for cover. A shot pulverized a brick at the edge of the frame. She fired blindly, scanning the alley for her attacker. She knew they had orders to take her alive, but a bullet to the leg would certainly prevent her escape.

In her peripheral, she caught sight of the third man. He had moved down the alley in an attempt to box her in. He raced from his point of cover toward her side of the street. Bad move. Ana drew a bead on him, expelled a deep breath, and shot him through the chest. He fell to the ground in a heap.

The alley echoed with the screaming blare of sirens. The approaching police couldn’t be more than a few seconds away. She heard the first man shout out something to the man behind the dumpster. A second later he erupted from his point of cover. He shot wildly in her direction and dove over the hood of the Mercedes. She didn’t wait to watch them get in the car. Instead, she fired off another couple of rounds, and sprinted down the alley in the opposite direction.

A teenager with a dirty apron stepped out into the alley carrying a bag of trash. She rushed him before he had a chance to look up. She grabbed his apron and pointed the gun at him. He nearly fell backwards. The look on his face was a mix of confusion and terror. He put his arms up and started babbling something that she couldn’t quite make out. Another quick tug on the apron and he seemed to get her drift. He untied it and handed it to her. She waved the gun back down the alley, suggesting that he clear out as fast as possible. He didn’t take much encouragement.

She tucked the gun into the waist of her jeans, stepping through the door as she put the apron on. It covered most of the blood.

Inside, she found herself in a dim room with an industrial sized sink and a metal rolling rack stacked with dirty dishes, presumably in a restaurant. Another man in an apron came around the corner.

“Hey, Paul, what was all that racket out--” The man stopped dead when he saw her.

She smiled and shrugged.

“Who are you?” He took a step toward her.

She grabbed a tray off of a counter, and hurled it at his head. When he ducked, she rushed past him and into the kitchen. One of the cooks gave her an odd look, but continued stirring whatever was in the large pot on the stove.

A pair of double doors swung open, and a towheaded boy hefting a large tray of dishes burst into the kitchen. A voice shouted behind her. The man from the back room pushed through the set of swinging doors. She grabbed the boy with the tray and launched him at the man. The boy screamed as the tray flew into the air.

The clattering and shattering of ceramic and glass echoed through the small space. She pirouetted past the boy and out the double doors into the dining room. The restaurant patrons sat in silence, all eyes fixed on her.

“Fire!” She pointed toward the kitchen, and then ran headlong for the front of the restaurant. She was out the front door before anyone could react.

The street was a bustle of activity. People of all ages filled the sidewalks, talking idly and stopping at the shops that lined both sides of the wide lane. Only those closest to the restaurant seemed to notice her hasty exit. The blood on her blouse elicited shocked expressions from a group of teens sitting on a bench. She walked briskly past them and did her best to blend in with the crowd. I’ve got to get out of these clothes.

A trendy store up the street looked promising. She folded her arms across her chest, doing her best to cover up as much of the blood as possible, and walked with her head down until she reached the shop.

A twenty-something girl stood behind a stark counter, her attention focused on the phone at her ear. The store itself was long and narrow with just enough room for the sort of girls this outlet was aimed at to fit down the aisles. She darted inside, grabbed a pair of jeans off of a low table and a red silk blouse from an adjacent rack. She held them up in front of her as she passed by the attendant while she motioned toward the fitting rooms. The girl narrowed her eyes, but otherwise said nothing. She just waved her on and kept talking on the phone.

She was relieved to find that the fitting room, although impossibly small, had a lock. She quickly bolted it behind her and hung the clothes on a hook. She nearly fainted when she saw herself in the mirror. There was still a streak of blood on her chin and her hair looked as if she had been in a wind tunnel.

She took the apron and the blood-soaked shirt off, carefully wrapping the shirt inside the apron. She balled it up and shoved it under the slat of wood that she could only assume was a bench. Then she licked her fingers, the hint of copper touching her tongue, and rubbed at the blood on her chin. It wasn’t perfect, but she managed to get the worst of it cleaned up. The red blouse went a long way to camouflage the pinkish traces at her neckline. She had the shirt buttoned and her hair patted back into place when a man’s voice called out to her.

“Miss?”

She tried to estimate how close the man was. Pretty close, she thought.

“Miss? I need you to come out please.”

“What’s wrong?” She realized for the first time that she had effortlessly transitioned to German, even though she had never remembered speaking it before.

“I need to ask you a few questions.” The voice was deep and calm. Not a store manager. A seasoned professional. She detected the hint of authority that came with a lifetime of experience.

“What’s the problem...officer?”

She could hear the man fidgeting with something. Was he drawing his weapon?

“I need you to come out slowly, Miss.” His voice maintained its calm demeanor.

She pulled the gun from her waistband, and aimed it at the door, gauging his position from the sound of his voice. She hoped she wouldn’t have to shoot an innocent man.

“I’m coming out.” She slid the lock back and then reaffirmed her grip on the gun before pushing the door open with her foot.

The man was just left of her behind a rack of sequined tops, and, just as she thought, had his weapon drawn. The shop attendant was nowhere to be found.

“Don’t do anything you’re going to regret, Miss.” His bright eyes assessed her in a matter of seconds. The salt and pepper hair spoke to his years of experience.

She was confident he wouldn’t do anything rash, but she was equally sure that he wouldn’t just let her walk out of the store.

“I don’t want to shoot you, but this situation is bigger than either of us.” She hoped that he could see the determination in her eyes. “I’m afraid I can’t just put my gun down and leave with you.”

“And I’m afraid I can’t just let you leave here.” He kept his weapon trained on her midsection as his eyes roved over her, sizing her up, calculating the odds. “I’ve already called for backup. They’ll be here any minute.”

They all say that. She knew she was running out of time. He looked like a good man, probably had a family. She didn’t want to shoot him. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. She would just have to fake him out.

“Okay, you’re right, Officer. I’m going to set my gun on the floor.”

He nodded. “Slowly.”

He kept his weapon trained on her as she knelt down and placed the gun on the floor, then straightened and kicked it away.

He lowered his gun and reached for a pair of handcuffs. His eyes dropped to his hands as he opened the cuffs. It was all the time she needed. She lunged forward, pushing the rack of clothes into his arm, knocking the gun aside. She grabbed onto his other wrist and drove the rack forward between them until she had him pinned up against the counter.

His face contorted in frustration. “You’re making a big mistake.”

She dug her fingernails deep into the wrist of the hand that held the gun. A thin line of blood trickled down his arm and his hand flexed open, sending the gun to the hard floor. She released his other wrist and punched him in the throat. He fell forward limply on the rack. The back door of the shop burst open, and two more policemen rushed in.

The narrow doorway forced them to enter single-file. She used it to her advantage, quickly shoving the rack and the limp man toward them. They were momentarily pinned in as she raced toward the store entrance and past the bewildered shop attendant standing out front, still talking on the phone.

She didn’t bother to look back. She ran as fast as she could down the street. If they wanted to stop her, they were going to have to shoot her in the back. She hoped they didn’t want her that badly.

Pedestrians on the sidewalk in the immediate area cleared a path for her as she barreled toward them. The sound of sirens once again split the air, and she could hear the policemen behind her shouting orders. She kept running. There were too many people on the street for them to fire.

A police car slammed on its brakes and did an abrupt u-turn as she sprinted past it. Her legs burned with exertion, but she urged herself to run faster. She could see the narrow opening of a side alley just yards ahead. She chanced a look over her shoulder. The police car was closing the distance between them.

She reached the alley and darted between the buildings, putting out a hand to brace herself as she rounded the corner. She slammed hard into a man in a tweed coat. She moved to push him out of the way. A set of familiar hazel eyes stared down at her.

“Doctor G..G..Gabriel? What are you doing here?”

“There’s no time to explain.” He released his grip on her shoulders and took her hand. “Come on, we have to go. You’re in grave danger.”