Page 18 of Peripheral Vision

Bet she’d fetch a pretty price, don’t you?

It takes everything in me to not smash my phone to pieces. I hurl it at the passenger seat, starting the ignition and ripping out of my parking space. My blood boils as it races through my veins while I press down on the accelerator, reaching speeds that would land me in jail if pulled over. One thing is for certain and two things for sure: they’ll regret ever fucking with me and what’s mine.

Nathanand I are waiting in another abandoned and run-down warehouse while we wait for the sellers to arrive with the children.Nathan has created a sterile space, playing up the idea that he will actually be harvesting these children’s organs. He has all of his proper instruments laid out along a tray that's lined with a paper sheet. There is a metal table behind us lined with another paper sheet where the children are meant to lay for their operation. Our contact who lines out the jobs for us is standing at the head along with several vials of medication and airway equipment, acting as our anesthesiologist. I check the time: one minute to go.

We spend that minute in tense silence. Just as I’m about to step outside and take a look, a sharp knock sounds on the metal door, causing it to echo throughout the chamber. I open the door to reveal the ringleader from the other night in the company of several armed guards, and behind them, each of the four children have bags over their heads and their hands tied. Squaring my face into another neutral, but unimpressed expression, I step to the side to let them through without a word.

But instead, Nathan speaks. “Cutting it close, don’t you think?”

“I was just returning the favor,” the ringleader says, recalling my timing from the other night.

“Lest you forget, these organs have a time limit once they’re harvested. We aren’t only on your time. There are other clients with… expectations,” Nathan remarks, playing his role well.

“We’re here now. So if you’d rather waste more of that precious time of yours arguing, be my guest. It is no skin off of my back.” A malicious smile curls along his face. He doesn’t know how wrong that statement is. How I intend to resolve that.

Stepping between their stand-off, I gesture to the children. “Bring them forward, then.” They all begin to whimper and sob beneath their hoods as they’re shoved in their backs by one of the guards. I clench my jaw at their mistreatment. Shortly, that’s all gonna end, and so is the only in I’ve gotten in the almost four years I’ve been doing this. I swallow the bile that threatens to rise at that notion and settle back into character.

“Allfour,just as requested and paid for. Do make sure that whenyou sew them back up that you do it neatly. I’d hate for scars that aren’t caused by future buyers to mar their skin and decrease their value,” the ringleader declares as Nathan grabs the first child and secures them to the table. Their muffled cries grow louder, and they try to thrash. This is always one of the harder parts to play.

“A little help over here,Evan.” Nathan uses my chosen alias for this job. Each time we create a contract, we are given new names and new demographics so nothing can be traced back to our authentic selves or our previous names. It’s solid, given that the government provides us with them.

Game time. I turn, my movements purposeful as I assist Nathan in holding the male down. He lowers his voice, whispering, “As soon as you get in front of the other kids, let loose.”

“You got it.” The feeling of the gun tucked in my waistband is a welcomed weight against my stomach. The other three children are now huddled against the wall, their hoods becoming wet with their tears. They all look so much smaller, so fragile, but I can’t afford to let that get to me now. Not when we’re this close to pulling off the extraction. “Let’s discuss this deal you offered me as a partnership while we wait, shall we?” I motion for the ringleader to walk with me.

“Why don’t we discuss it here? I’d hate to miss out on all of the fun.” He stays rooted in place.

I glance over at my shoulder where the child on the table has been sedated. “Unfortunately, my partner likes to work without the scrutiny of too many eyes. However, we can leave a guard or two if it would make you feel better.”

He stays silent, weighing my words before nodding slightly. He walked in here with four guards—leaving two for Nathan and our contact to dispatch, and two for me, plus the task of incapacitating the ringleader. As soon as the four of us are outside of the warehouse and into the night air, I draw my gun and fire. The first shot strikes a guard that was walking ahead, scouting for trouble, square in his back. He stumbles, his weapon clattering to the ground as hecollapses. The ringleader and the other guard react quickly, yelling erupting from each of them and from inside the warehouse as it mingles with the kid’s yelling.

I dodge out of their line of fire and behind a concrete barrier, shards raining down on me with each impact of their bullets. I peer over the edge as their fire stops and they reload. I fire at the second guard, his rifle swinging upward as he racks it, but he does it a moment too slow. The bullets tear through his throat and his chest, dropping him immediately to the cold pavement. The ringleader hesitates, the knowledge that he is the only one left settling in as the screams and gunfire stop inside. He looks around, searching for his best egress, and just as he makes a move to run, I leap from behind the barrier shooting at each of his legs. My aim strikes home, the first bullet hitting him directly behind his left knee, dropping him to the floor, and the second skimming his right calf. He yelps and tries to roll over, getting his gun up, but not before I’m upon him and kicking it from his hands. I throw a punch into his jaw, the crack of bone meeting bone echoing. I throw in a few others for extra measure and by the time I’m done, he’s unconscious but breathing.

His bleeding is slow, telling me I haven’t hit any major arteries. Nathan will be pleased. It will make his job of patching the injuries up easier, prolonging our ability to interrogate him. I roll the ringleader over, securing his wrists and ankles with rope before approaching the warehouse doors, knocking in a rhythm that tells Nathan it’s me. He opens it almost immediately, a relieved look flashing across his face as it does after all our missions.

My eyes flash over his back where the other three kids have been released and the bags removed from their heads, our contact speaking with them in reassuring whispers. The child on the table remains unconscious but he will wake up soon. I walk to where the children are, kneeling down to their level, keeping my voice calm but firm. They flinch. “I’m sorry that we had to do that, to play their role. I promise that your sibling will be okay, he’s just asleep right now. I’m going to take you somewhere safe, somewhere we can reuniteyou all with your parents, but you have to trust me. Do you think you can do that?”

The oldest, the sixteen-year-old girl, nods hesitatingly. “Okay,” she whispers. I turn back toward Nathan, a strained smile crossing my face, another successful rescue in the books.

I reach out and offer her my hand. “Then let’s get you all home.”

Chapter

Thirteen

DYLAN

Igo back into the bar tense and shaken up from my encounter in the alleyway. I also go inside hating Callum for having asked me to turn the breaker box back on as a result. The party inside had continued like normal, Callum and the other bartender whose name I learned was Audrey, serving drinks and ringing up tabs once again.Chokeby The Warning is playing as people dance wherever there is room to do so. They really should invest in a dance floor… I make a mental note to suggest that to Callum when I’m in better spirits. Something that he picks up on almost immediately as I step back behind the bar.

“Hey, you were out there a long time, everything okay?” he asks.

“Better than ever.”

Callum gives me a solemn look. “You know it takes a bullshitter to know a bullshitter, right? And I’m one of the best bullshitters out there.”

A half laugh, half sigh escapes my lips. “Then I suppose I’m an amateur.” I wipe down the counter, cleaning up minor spills. My mind is stuck on everything that was said in the alleyway; mystranger, I’ve decided to call him for now, stepping out of my peripheral vision, making himself a little more clear.

Callum doesn’t give up though. “You don’t have to talk about it. But I also want you to feel like I’m somebody that you can trust.”

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