Immortality Heist: The Sands of Time

Officer Song was panting hard. The long run through the rooms and corridors of the first floor of the Tower was already taking its toll on him. The last time he made a run close to this was when he was undergoing the recruitment training for the City Force, and that was many years ago. His heaving chest testifies to the age difference between now and then. He regretted not always participating in the fitness training for the City Force held twice every week. But why should he regret, he asked himself. His colleagues who participated in the trainings, where are they? His colleagues who loves their job more than their lives, where are they? Fools who would rather die for Foeblaster than cry for their children, WHERE ARE THEY?

Dead, yes. They are all dead. Like chickens, slaughtered. Their brains blown out, their innards spilled on the concrete floor of the Rocky Monster, their blood painting the streets red.

He took little pity of any of them. He had made no friends whatsoever, so he couldn't mourn much. He pitied the men from his shift though. His foolish and patriotic colleagues. They had been safe in the prepared room after an eight hour shift, ready to eat and sleep. But no sooner did they hear the gunshots than they stood up at once with their guns, their fatigue forgotten. They had rushed outside carelessly, straight into the crossfire. Most of them died before they could even fire a shot. The few who managed to position themselves and take cover were eventually gunned down too. Whoever trained these men needs a good torturing, Song resolved. The training these men received were just basic training— arresting Cityzens, patrolling the City, resolving fights, beating up protestants, shooting defaulters during curfew hours, trying to shoot Backfencers with no success— all these, but never a proper gun fight training. No solid formation, no rear guards to watch their backs... It was just all just a waste... The whole seasoned men of the City Force has been wiped out.

Song cleared his throat and his mind, and reeled back to the present. His run has slowed to a brisk walk down the dark corridors. The weight of the boy on his back was slowing him down.

The freckled boy, Jimmy had fainted from exhaustion after they met in that room, so Song being a good (well, bad if you wish) person carried him on his back. One, to help the boy. And two, that's the only way to get the two of them to move at the same pace.

Jimmy rested limply on Song's back as they made their way through corridors and open rooms which never seemed to end. They were looking for the other exit door on the ground floor of the Towering Tower.

At first, Song thought they would be discovered by working men in one of the rooms, but so far they have encountered not a living being. To be fair, these rooms have never been used for anything. Song wondered why the City's power house would abandon the first floor and use the others.

Jimmy coughed weakly.

"Easy, boy. Easy. We're almost there... Almost," Song pacified.

But even with the assuring words, Song himself does not feel assured. Maybe there wasn't another exit in the first floor like one of his dead colleague had promised. Maybe the first floor of just a whole large maze, with just one exit. Maybe this is Foeblaster's playground. Song had to hit his forehead to get these wild and funny thoughts out of his head.

Here and there, rays of light took the shape of the open doors of the empty rooms and fell on the corridors. And every time Song peered into the rooms, hoping for an exit, he always found the light coming from the west sun through the tiny windows. These windows are too high to scale and too tiny to wriggle through.

Song's knees almost buckled, his legs became too heavy to carry. His back was strained from Jimmy's weight, and his arms were becoming too weak to hold Jimmy in place. Yet, he never stopped moving, turning left and right, shaking off thick cobwebs, and saying words of encouragemen to the half-conscious Jimmy.

But all of a sudden, Song's head started spinning. His thoughts became jumbled and he couldn't make sense of his dark and dusty surroundings anymore. His slow walk has worsened to a stagger as his sole dragged across the floor and ever step left a clean trail, clearing the thick soft dust. He was about to totally lose his consciousness when at last he saw it... Just behind the next corner was the opening he was looking for throughout this short but long journey... The first and probably the last glimmer of hope.

The sun outside took the shape of the large rectangular exit and spread its ray across the corner behind which Song now stood. His eyes were opened wide once again, and his mind was alert.

With renewed vigour, he balanced Jimmy properly and clamped him with his thick arms. He only needed to step out of the corner and out into the wide open room, and then the wide open exit. Freedom, he thought.

He knew where the exit leads. He's well conscious to calculate a few things now. Just around the corner was the exit and the exit leads to most deserted part of the City. The main road there stretched on to form a bend after the east side of the Towering Tower. Though less busy, one could still see rickety transport vehicle to board if his patience didn't run out.

Song was gaining. A few more yards and he will clear the dark corner in to the large room. His steps became sturdy and determined, and he didn't wince anymore with each painful step he took. He carried on with Jimmy. He cleared the short walk after the ccornerwith few strides and the front of his left shoe touched the sun ray that that fell on the room. His right leg followed in urgency, eager to leave the darkness it had been all along... But his right leg stopped mid-stride. Song stopped his advance because he heard something... There are voices.

These voices were hushed despite the apparent emptiness of the large room. Song peeped and saw two men dressed in corporate clothes with their backs turned to him, conversing in low tones. Their cautioned voices came silently but somewhat harshly. The harshness in their conversation was all Song needed to get a hang of what they were talking about. Because even as they whispered, the harshness made the two of them say some words louder than intended.

Song strained his ears, listening...

"What do you mean he got away? How can he...?" one of the men questioned.

Song couldn't hear the next question properly but he quite understood what that meant. It seems someone had gotten way with something they need and they are planning on how to get it back.

That voice sounded strangely familiar to Song but he didn't give it a second thought. He just wished for these men to conclude on their shitty meeting and walk out.

"I don't know... All I know is that the Backfencer gangs were furious after the shooting. We saw them from the security cams. I think they lost it too, sir. It's not with them..."

Oh, Song was now interested. Now he knows why these two blockheads are hushing their tones.

"The object stolen by the Backfencers is lost to them too... interesting. So, they killed that many men only for them to lose the stolen object?" Song thought in amazement.

The familiar voice spoke again, angrily.

"So..?! What does that mean?"

"The boy... The hostage... He got away... They are looking for him... They think he stole it from their leader..."

Jimmy who appears to be unconscious, whimpered a little after this statement. Songs heard jerked upwards in shock and surprise. "How? How can the little boy do that?"

The familiar voice spoke again, eager but still angry...

"So, that means we still have a chance, yeah? Find him... Find the boy... We have to find the boy before the Backfencer f*cks get to him... Find him!!"

With this commanding tone, Song now knew who was behind the familiar voice. Oh, how he hated to hear or see the City Guardian, the old Grantomer Foeblaster.

The other person responded in a panicky manner, "but... But... Sir... The City Force... The active ones...They are all dead..."

There was a deep sigh from old Foeblaster. A sigh that indicates a restriction from saying what he was about to say, but he has to say it nonetheless. He paced two steps back and forth and his arms were akimbo. Then there was silence...

The pacing stopped. The deep sighs stopped. Even Song stopped his breath in the dark corner. He didn't want to miss what was coming from Foeblaster's mouth next.

Then it came...

"Tell Alphaga to dispatch the minions," old man Foeblaster said in a croaky voice.

There was a stiffled sob-like sound from the other man before he blurted out, "no... No! They are not ready yet, sir. Please don't do this..."

"Yes, they are ready," Foeblaster protested violently. "They've been ready for a while. What could they possibly not be ready for? Now go inform Alphaga to dispatch the damned minions and find that damned boy and my precious tube...!!!"

"No I won't. I won't be a part of this craziness anymore. If you want to rrelease your so-called minions sir, inform Alphaga yourself. I quit... I QUIT!!!"

Immediately, one of the two men jumped on the other. Definitely, Old Foeblaster on the Young I'm-not-part-of-this-anymore quitter. From Song's point of view, he couldn't judge which one was Foeblaster or which was the "quitter" because they were about the same stature and they were both dressed the same way.

There was a grunt from Foeblaster followed by the sound of shoes scraping the dusty marbled floor. Five heartbeats into the wrestle, a loud yell erupted from the younger man, followed by a gentle click. Then. A loud bang which echoed massively down the empty rooms in the first floor. Then, the sound of a body dropping with a soft thud on the floor. Dust rose in the air as the person fell. So, Song couldn't see enough of what happened next. But he heard Foeblaster hissed, "dirty shit" before he saw him running out of the room into a styled vehicle waiting outside for him. The vehicle zoomed off, leaving a big puff of black fume behind.

Then, Song stepped out of the shadow with Jimmy.

Carefully, Song let Jimmy down onto a less dusty part of the floor. He then walked to the body of the man lying on the floor in a dusty floor that is now thick with blood. The man appeared dead.

Song moved closer only to discover that he wasn't dead. Not yet. The man coughed out blood weakly and his face lolled sideways. It was a youthful face with a sharp pointy nose and a well chiseled jaw. His complexion was milky white, handsome even at the point of death. The man turned his bloodshot eyes up at Song's shoes, then at Song's face, then past Song. His gaze was unfocused, distant. Then with bloody lips, he spoke...

"You... The boy..." He coughed up more blood. "The machine... Three clicks left... Two clicks right... Four clicks left... You must do it... You must..."

He stopped talking and his breaths became more ragged as more blood spurted out of his mouth. Song then realized that this man's gaze wasn't unfocused. He was in fact looking at something behind him. Song turned his neck and saw Jimmy standing pale-faced and with knobbly knees. The little boy was as disheveled as the dying man on the floor but he was attentive.

These jumbled words from a dying man made no sense to Song, yet he found himself memorizing it. It might be some type of rescue code or some top secret information he's trying to pass across. One thing is certain. This is not a bluff.

A betrayed man about to die will spew the dirtiest secrets to ruin his betrayers. A real man goes down with a thousand enemies... Those were the words of the City Force, even though they didn't live true to it at the end.

Song looked downwards at the man's bullet wound, pumping blood out at an alarming rate. Then he traced his gaze back to the man's face which now lacked any form of colour. Pity took hold of him for a while. He wanted to put this dying man out of his misery... To pull his own trigger and give the man a quick death, but he reasoned that another shot would attract attention to this place. And who in the world thinks like that?

But the man wasn't done with his sputtering. He continued weakly, less, less audibly.

"My pockets... Keys... Filibuster estate... House 20... 17B... Safe... Run... Fast... Foeblaster... No... Catch you... Go..."

Song had to get his ears close to the man's mouth to hear what he was saying, and when he heard, he didn't waste any time. Without thinking, Song ransacked the man's chest pockets, ruffling the quality suit material in search of the key. He found nothing but a thick white card. After searching further and found nothing else, he resolved that maybe the card was the key. The City has been moving too fast for him these days, he couldn't keep up with the latest technologies especially ones designed for the rich. Song doesn't care.

"Go," the man said. Song stood abruptly from his stoop position, understanding coursing through him. It all made sense now. Even when he doesn't want to admit it, it doesn't change the fact that Jimmy has the stolen tube with him. What has this little boy done?

He walked back to Jimmy and saw him rolling the blue tube slowly in his little hand... The tube... The object that started all this mess. The object that killed a hundred men of the City Force, that will kill this dying man, the object that made Foeblaster go on a rampage, and which has stamped the little boy, Jimmy as a wanted person both by Foeblaster and the Backfencers. Song has no idea who to fear the most out of the two.

Suddenly aware of how much time has been wasted already, and how much danger they will be in if they were ever caught here, Song picked Jimmy up again and balanced him on his back. The forgotten back ache sets in again, but temporary pain is much better than permanent death. They walked out towards the exit.

Then, the supposed-to-be-dead man uttered his last words. They were, "The Sands of Time."

A deep cough, a heavy breath, and there was no more sound. Silence.

Song didn't stop to wonder what he meant. They will find out later.

For now, Filibuster estate was their supposed safe zone. He wished it is true.

The sun is almost completely set. The last of its orange glow went down in an ever slow manner before it disappeared finally. Night crept in...