Almost Doesn't Count by Glen Marcus (e novels to read TXT) 📕

      Looking cautiously out of the unit's only window, Steven knew his pursuers weren’t far behind. In a matter of minutes, his blood trail would lead them to this small commercial office, just off 19th Street. The Secret Service agent located a chair and began dragging it slowly away from the glass door he had smashed to gain access. The burning sensation from the bullet wound was now almost unbearable, so he sat down to tend his wound. Removing his jacket and tearing his shirt sleeve for a makeshift bandage, Steven wrapped it tightly around his thigh. Knowing it was now only a matter of time, he removed his service weapon from its holster and waited.
From this vantage point, the veteran agent could see the street clearly through the broken door, while not exposing himself in the window. In the distance, flickering blue lights and sirens steadily drew closer to his position. Taking deep breaths to calm his racing pulse rate was starting to take effect, since blacking out from blood loss was not a part of the plan.
      As security vehicles and police cars came to a screeching halt around the perimeter, the darkened room was suddenly illuminated with their headlight’s glow. Through the streams of flashes, Steven could see a lone figure emerging from the black Suburban just outside the door. He knew very well who it was and what his next move would be.
      “Agent Wells, I’m unarmed and coming in," the familiar voice shouted from outside.
Shattered glass crackled underfoot as Roger Jennings walked slowly into the room. Once inside, he halted and shined a flashlight in the rogue agent’s direction.
      “For Christ’s sake Steven, what have you done?’
      “I did what was necessary boss,” he said boldly. 

“Necessary? You made an assassination attempt on the man you were sworn to protect,” Jennings said forcefully.“You know how this makes us look?’
      'He always was a team player,'thought Steven sarcastically.
      As the elder agent attempted to move closer to the seated man, Steven raised his weapon into the glow of the flashlight and Jennings stopped cold where he stood.
      “That’s close enough, sir.”
      “Alright, alright. Now son, this can’t end well. You need to lower your weapon and let’s discuss your exit options.”
      With a glint in his eye that Jennings failed to comprehend, Steven said coolly, “My exit options are pretty much narrowed down to one I’d say, body bag.”
      Jennings, trying to get a handle on the escalating situation replied, “It doesn’t have to go down that way. The President is safely being attended to. Your shot only hit him in the arm. It was a failed attempt and nothing more.”
Steven remained silent as he scanned the window and exterior door opening. Turning his left hand over and revealing his watch, he knew the time had come. Taking a deep breath Steven said, “There is a line drawn in the sand that we, as Americans have to decide on which side to stand. Our country was founded in protest; under the moral obligation  to stand up to authority when it acts against the best interest of our republic.”
      A confused look washed across Jennings face. ‘What the hell is he talking about?’
      “I am a patriot damn it!” Steven shouted. “Those two sons of bitches had to be taken out for what they’ve done to America over the last four years!”
      “But Wells, You aren't listening. You didn’t kill him. And what do you mean by two?”
      “I never intended on shooting them.” Steven whispered and then rose from the chair.
      The window shattered as a pink mist covered the drab, ivory wall directly behind Agent Wells. For a moment in time, everything around Steven moved at a crawl. The room began to spin slowly as a strange numbing sensation overtook his extremities. With all his remaining energy, he dropped to his knees and released the Beretta from his fingertips. Slipping a concealed hand into his jacket, the mortally-wounded agent felt for the detonator.
      A massive explosion roared from the sky a few blocks away. The fireball was visible above the shroud of neighboring structures and drew everyone’s attention momentarily. Standard protocol in an attempt such as this was clear, secure the White House first. Then, wounded Executive Branch members would be whisked away to Walter Reed Hospital for medical treatment. This was one of the few textbook scenarios that the President and Vice-President would be together in one aircraft. With the push of a button, Marine One was obliterated and its fiery debris was strewn along Pennsylvania Avenue.
      As he peered through the bullet-pierced window, a relaxed look of contentment was the last expression to cross the agent’s face. All the painstaking planning his group had done for the last two years had now come to fruition. His fellow patriots could now seize the opportunity caused by the vacuum of leadership he’d created. It made Wells proud to know his country would have a brighter future, by him dying a martyr’s death. Slowly, Steven’s vision dimmed and he crumpled to the floor.
 

Text: Copyright © 2012 Glen Marcus
Publication Date: 10-22-2012

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