NEW WAYS TO DIE

 

Major Richard Blaine is leading his Spartan 300 through an accursed village in hopes of finding the laboratory of a SS scientist who has mangled his experiments

without triggering the deaths of all those who trust him.

NEW WAYS TO DIE

“We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls.”

― Anaïs Nin

 

Anaïs Nin wrote: 

“Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.”

In that sense, the Spartan 300 had spawned twenty-one worlds. And each of us was the richer for it.

Sentient admonished,

‘I would not mention the erotic author, Anaïs Nin, in what is now quaintly called “polite society,” though Nurse Reynolds might enjoy chastising you for it. 

Besides, that particular quote is from one of her diaries not yet published.’

‘Then how do I know it?’

‘As I moved you up and down linear time to acquire those useful hands, your consciousness plucked odd items here and there at the whim of your mischievous unconscious much like an errant Xanthium strumarium.’

‘A what?’

‘Oh, if you insist on the crude term, a cocklebur.”

Cloverfield interrupted my confusing talk with Sentient, 

“Not to be disrespectful, mate, but you look damn odd, leading us with that bandaged left hand held up high like the staff of Moses.”

“I get the best reading of where to go this way.”

“Does this ‘leading’ cause you any pain?” asked Rachel in a concerned tone of voice.

“It’s … not pleasant. But if St. Marok taught me anything, it is how to endure.”

Theo snapped like the veteran sergeant he was, 

“Less talking, more looking. We’re knee deep in hell-waters here.”

“You’re right, Theo. Sorry.”

He snapped even harsher. 

“You’re a major. You don’t apologize to a nom-com.”

“I do to a friend.”

That got everyone quiet. Out of embarrassment or deep thoughts, I couldn’t tell … and didn’t want to.

That eerie fog returned … but only teasing us from the far corners of blackened buildings. 

I figured Mr. Morton was playing with us as a cat with a helpless mouse.

Let him. An amused enemy made mistakes. Though I would be hard-pressed to remember him making even one.

‘You still live. He was foolish to let you leave New Orleans not his slave.’

‘Maybe. Or maybe I am doing his bidding without realizing it of my own free will.’

 ‘There is that. It would amuse him more.’

‘Great. Even when you tell me I am right, it goes down hard.’

I put my left hand down.

“We’re there.

Cloverfield huffed, 

“This two-story building is unblemished. How is that possible?”

“Probably like the eye of the hurricane.”

Taylor muttered, “Probably?”

“Hey, I am making this up as I go along.”

I turned to Theo. 

“I’m going up those steps alone. You, ah, make sure my back is ….”

He sighed a gush of pent-up blast of frustration at my not talking military jargon.

“We’ll set up a wide perimeter with recon scouts at either end of this street.”

He walked directly in front of me. 

“But you are not going up there alone.”

“Of course not, silly,” laughed Nurse Reynolds. “I’m going up with him.”

“No, Rachel. I am.”

“Hush, Master-Sergeant Savalas. We are not yet married, nor are we like to be if you keep barking ultimatums at me. 

Besides, Theo, I am lighter than you, far lighter than any of the Spartans. I will go up the steps in front of the Major, tripping any trap before he goes up.”

“I don’t want that,” I said.

“Oh, bother!” she laughed and wheeled around me and up the black steps with all the grace and speed of a gymnast.

I held my breath along with Theo, but she made it to the landing without any explosions. My Sergeant and I both let out a sigh of relief.

Cloverfield chuckled, 

“And since I was a MI6 operative before I was assigned to you, I will take the high road.”

Though the front of the building seemed egg skin smooth, he scaled it easily like a mountain-climber born.

He laughed as he paused at the window. 

“If the cards are stacked against you, reshuffle the deck. Hello, there seems to be a trip wire or three here.”

“A half dozen Sentient informs me. There is a master lock pick set on the right side of your helmet where your ear would be.”

He reached up and found it. He twisted it and took it off his helmet, studying it. 

“Oh, ho, now this looks promising.”

“Be careful, James,” called out Rachel, “there is a massive lock on this door I may need your help with.”

 I shook my head, holding up my right forefinger from which sprouted a nasty-looking skeleton key. 

“I’ll be right there.”

I walked cautiously up the stairs, remembering how Mr. Morton had rigged a bomb to go off only when his intended victim’s brain waves triggered it.

‘Nothing in life is certain. Fate does not owe you anything, and if it decides to take something from you it will. 

You must accept this truth. Accept the dreadful possibility that your blind optimism is merely a fancied lie.’

‘You’re a real beacon in the storm, Sentient.’

I took a deep breath and moved up the stairs, trying not to clench up with each step. It was slow going.

Step.

Deep breath.

Step.

Fighting not to swallow hard.

Step.

Flinching a bit when the wood creaked.

Step.

Nearly jumping out of my skin when Cloverfield snapped,

“Hold on there, mate. What’s going on?”

I managed to swallow with a dry throat. 

“Mr. Morton once devised a bomb that would only go off when the exact set of brain waves of his intended target were within a foot of it.”

“Bloody Hell!” cursed Rachel. “Then, my little ballet act was for ….”

My clear visor on my Spartan helmet went bright arterial red. Sentient took over my body, flinging my right arm up high.

A flexible metal cable shot out of the palm of my bandaged right hand. 

With a rasping hiss, the cable lassoed out. 

It looped around the metal landing railing where Rachel stood open-mouthed.

‘Hold onto it tight! You’re going for a ride! Tuck up those big feet under that rump.’

My back snapped painfully as I was whipped quickly up through the air. 

The winds of my flight made me want to sneeze.

‘Don’t you dare! You must look heroic. Sneeze, and I drop you!’

I heroically fought the sneeze … and won.

The step hiding Mr. Morton’s deadly bomb went off, deafening me for a heartbeat. 

The bomb had been a small one. He only wanted to kill me in front of my still alive demoralized men.

Sentient took over my body again, making me land like a human cougar beside Rachel.

I had to appear unfazed. I winked at Rachel. 

“Think MI6 taught Cloverfield that trick?”

He looked over at me. He looked as shaken as I felt.

 “So, those hands were worth the pain, right?”

I didn’t hesitate. “No.”

He snorted, “Didn’t think so.”

I smiled at Rachel. “Makes you eager to pick that lock, huh?’

“Do I look like a ruddy fool?”