It's Not Your Fault
It was an odd sound, somewhere between a whisper and a scream. Major Virgil Biddle took cover as a rocket grenade sped by and exploded against a wall. Fragments of brick flew everywhere, and the jolt from the impact made his head vibrate. Prostrate on the pavement with a loud ringing in his ears, he watched the rusty cloud of brick and smoke billow in the moonlight.
Another grenade hit the remnant of the wall and reduced it to a pile of rubble. Red brick rain pelted his body - Major Biddle was losing patience with his oppressors. He looked at the blackened pulse gun in his hand, jumped to his feet, ran down the alley, then dove behind a dumpster. The dumpster was on its side, spilling raw garbage across the ground. Burying himself in the refuse with only his eyes and his gun sights showing, the major waited for a victim.
Red laser beams danced down the alley and around the dumpster. The major heard whispers, then the sound of an approaching helicopter. A spotlight burned to the ground, illuminating the street. Shadows stirred. He aimed his weapon. The trigger moved twice, and two men fell to the ground.
The major sprinted down the alley and ran into an exposed building. With a door straight ahead and laser beams playing on his back, he lowered his shoulder and tore the door off its hinges. Turning left, then right, he eased down a narrow hallway without windows. He found a door, threw it open, ran down another hallway and came to another door. This time he opened it carefully and quietly. The major stepped outside into a dark alley, temporarily devoid of searchlights and lasers.
Major Biddle glanced to the right, then looked to his left and saw a metal fire escape hugging the side of the adjacent building. A four-story climb to the rooftop, and within seconds, he was concealed behind a large air vent. The helicopter passed overhead but didn't see him blended with the shadows. The spotlight scanned the flat roof, then fell to the alley. The major darted between two air conditioning units and leapt off the edge of the building, flying silently through the air. Below, he could see soldiers taking position, ready to storm the entrance.
His boots hit the roof on the other side, and he rolled to a stop. Two more leaps through the moonlight, and the major stood on a rooftop a block away from his pursuers. He went to the shadows and leaned against a stairwell to catch his breath and take inventory of the situation.