Rebirthed

By Ironsword


I stood with my back to the cold wall, my breath danced away into the night with every exhale, it was time. I edged soundlessly closer to the door and crouched down. The key hole appeared as a small shaft of light, it grew larger as I pressed my eye to it. Inside I could see the two men; the first sprawled in a chair nonchalantly smoking a cigarette, whilst the other leant against the kitchen table, vigorously explaining something to his compatriot. They were talking in some guttural Eastern European accent, its inflections lost to me. Hungarian perhaps, but I always liked that, it made it easier when it came to the trigger moment. I recalled their dossier from memory; I’d burnt the original two hours after reading it. They were both nasty pieces of work, that was certain; they were the chief suspects for at least three murders, all brutal and unsolved, nobody would miss them. It helped to know that they deserved it, although, morality was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I knew where I was headed and it wasn’t heaven. I shook the thoughts from my mind and instead let my hunger grumble its dissatisfaction; it had been ten hours since I’d eaten but, it wouldn’t be much longer now.

The man in the chair laughed at something and closed his eyes with mirth, he placed his gun down to wipe his eyes; It was the cue I’d been waiting for. With a swift kick the door splintered into the room and the two regarded me with a shocked amazement. I raised the silenced Beretta and dispatched the smoker. He didn’t utter a word; he just slid slowly off his chair. I turned to the second; my prime target.
‘Merv sent me. He wanted you to know.’ I said.
‘Wait…’ He replied in heavily accented English. It was too late for this punk and I squeezed the trigger. His last act was to glance furtively towards the staircase before slumping forward. My long years of experience suddenly began to scream that something was wrong. I flicked my eyes over and saw the barrel of a gun between the banisters. I heard the bolt slide of the AK-47 and dived to my left.

The world slowed, caught in time as automatic fire sprayed into the room. The bullets zipped by and I felt a rush of air as one passed my face; that was close, but the clip would soon be dry and then it would be my turn. I hit the ground hard on my shoulder and started sliding across the room; the pain I felt was dulled by the adrenalin pulsing through my veins. In the midst of the chaos I couldn’t help but think of what had gone awry, I had spent six weeks planning this hit; he was only ever accompanied by one bodyguard; how could I have got it so wrong?

Then I felt it; a thump in my torso. My flak vest absorbed the momentum, robbing the bullet of most of its power but, I still heard a sickening crack as it broke my rib. My body shook as I took another shot in the chest, the ceramic plate strained with the velocity of the impact, but it repelled the bullet. I raised my pistol in retribution, wincing from the pain in my side. The last of his bullets caught me in the neck, it felt like a scratch but, it didn’t matter now; this guy was going to pay. I fired three rounds towards the stairs; I saw them hit him in the temple. Idiot, who brings a rifle to a suburb in Kensington, now I’ve got maybe five minutes at the most before the police arrive. With a tumble the man collapsed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, his gun clattered noisily away. I lowered the Beretta painfully; it was over.

I went to pull myself up, but to my horror I realised that it was beyond the power of my limbs. I felt so weak with the exertion and my hands were turning bone white. The room started to dim and I felt a lot of blood soaking into my balaclava. It was eerily quiet, my laboured breathing and the thumping of my heart sounded like thunder rolling across a valley. I tried to let out a small gasp but, it just came out as a gargle. The neck wound was bad, very bad, my jugular I thought. I glanced slowly at the bodies, we would all share the same fate, it was a small comfort but, at least I’d accomplished the mission.

It’s strange though, at the moment when I realised I was going to die there was neither a moment of clarity nor visions of my family. Instead the room became darker still and then all was black, a swirling maelstrom of consciousness. I thought then of the money Merv had shoved under my nose. I’d argued him up a couple of grand, it seemed pointless now, the arguing. A strange euphoria washed over me and random thoughts came and fluttered through my mind, each escaping before I could react to them. Why am I still holding the Beretta? From the dark recesses of my psyche I heard a siren briefly, but then it faded back into the inky morass. My senses were becoming useless; it started to feel as though I was floating, the weightlessness was a strange new sensation. In the darkness I tried again for movement from my arms and legs, but they felt small and useless; unable to support any weight. I heard the siren again, but it now sounded tinny and much more like a machine, its monotonous beeping ebbed and flowed like the tide. My mind was becoming so fragmented that I struggled to process any kind of coherent thought, the only recurring event was that my mouth felt full of liquid and I couldn’t understand why.

It came to me then, the light, the beautiful, brilliant white light. It was mesmerising and it held me hostage, squeezing me inexorably towards it. Brighter than the sun, yet as white as the moon, it was the most amazing sight of my life. Bathed within it I felt small and protected, its rays reached around me like tendrils of muscle and squeezed my shoulders together. As the disc of light grew wider ahead of me the embrace tightened and I gravitated ever closer to the source.

With a final spasm I was through, the pressure release was intense and I gasped, air streaming into my lungs. With a triumphant realisation my arms and legs were finally free and I bicycled them testing my returning strength but, they still felt weakened and untested. I screamed in confusion, shaking off the pain and feeling strangely elated. It seemed to issue out much too high pitched and louder than I imagined. My eyes hurt from the light, but it was such a relief.

My thoughts were obscure and I couldn’t remember much about how I came here. Merv; the name resounded through me until it faded into nothing. I screamed again at the unknown, at the light, at everything. My hunger returned, though I knew nothing of when I felt it last. A slow voice, deep and soothing pealed across my ears. I instinctively became quiet, as words that again seemed so alien to me echoed in the room. The whiteness was blinding.
‘Mrs Smith, it’s a boy.’