Dmitry's Closet by Nelson, S. (read people like a book .txt) 📕

Ivan looked over at Dorian, still breathing hard from his fit.

“Now,” he ordered, turning away from the monitors.

At that moment, Dorian typed in a code on the laptop and pushed ENTER.

∞♥∞

Agosto and Sorrello watched on carefully, blind for the most part of what was going on inside the restaurant. They waited patiently, not knowing what to expect. Sorrello smacked loudly on his peanuts while Agosto stared out the window. He listened to the sports commentator report on the game going on over at the FedEx Forum. The home team was winning. That had to be a good sign.

“No movement yet?” Sorrello asked, texting on his cell phone.

“Nope,” Agosto growled. “Tonight could be a bust.” He got on his radio. “Do you have a visual from your position, Eagle One, over?”

“No movement, over.” The voice replied from the radio.

“Come. On,” Agosto vented, hitting his steering wheel.

Just as Agosto laid his head back on the cushion of the leather seat and wiped his tired, watering eyes, a loud, earth-shaking boom erupted from the restaurant, following a plume of smoke and fire.

The intensity of the blast knocked the front windshield out of their car. Broken glass and debrisflew in meeting them face on.

Car and fire alarms rang out instantly down the street. In a daze, Agosto pulled his head up off the steering wheel and pealed glass from his face. He looked over at Sorrello, who was knocked out. He tried to speak but his throat felt singed. He coughed and wheezed..

“Sorrello.” He nudged the unconscious man. “Sorrello!” he finally screamed as he pushed past the pressure on his lungs. He shook the man violently, but Sorrello did not budge. Agosto spit blood out of his mouth and got on his radio.

“Officer needs assistance.” He coughed. His head swam in confusion.

“Officers are on the way to your location,” a voice responded.

Agosto opened the door of the mangled car slowly and crawled out on his hands. In pain, he lay out on the ground, against the hard, cold concrete and shards of broken glass and stared up at the starry night. He could hear police and fire sirens in the distance. Pulling himself up, he leaned against the car door and gathered himself.

The world moved in slow motion. He could barely hear the people running and screaming past him. He ran his hand over his hair and down his bloody face. He stood up and looked over at the yellow, red flame coming from the front of Mother Russiaand saw the smoke billowing up above it.

“What the fuck just happened,” he asked rhetorically, coughing again.

∞♥∞

The bomb had not been completely successful. While it had blown up the front of the restaurant and had the place set aflame, the center of the restaurant and the back where the men had been seated wasonly moderately destroyed.

Dmitry pulled himself up off the burning floor and crawled to his son, who had been blown into the wall by the blast. He crawled over several of his men and five of his councilmen who were now dead or unconscious from the blast to Anatoly. He picked the boy up quickly, gathering him in his arms without any effort, then threw a tablecloth over his head. The smoke billowed up and filled the restaurant and large blasts could be heard as flammables exploded throughout the building.

Dmitry knew that he would not be able to save everyone. He kicked and screamed at the men who had survived to flee for their lives. As he passed through the corridor to the secret back entrance, he stepped over Nicolaiand Max who had tried to make their way back up to the surface. Dead or not, he would leave them there to burn.

Hurrying,he and a few of his men made their way through the dark smoke. With Anatoly still in his arms, he kicked open the door that led from the women’s bathroom into the utility closet. It led them into another dark room that was housed in the neighboring building. They closed the door behind them and hit the lights. It was stockpiled with munitions.

Dmitry laid Anatoly on the ground and went to a refrigerator to grab water. He opened the bottles quickly and poured them over his son’s face, wiping the soot from his burns.

“Anatoly!” Dmitry screamed, shaking him violently. “Anatoly!”

The young man moved around slowly. His eyelids fluttered.

“Wake up, boy,” his father demanded.

The crystals of Anatoly’seyes emerged from his slits finally. He looked up at the ceiling and gasped for the clean air of which his lungs had been deprived. Grabbing his ribs, he tried to sit up.

“What happened?” he asked, pulling off his jacket.

“We were ambushed.”

“Ivan?”

“Who else?” Dmitry stood up, relieved that Anatoly was seemingly alright. “Can you get about?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Good, then grab a few guns and follow me. I know where he’s headed. We don’t have a lot of time.”

∞♥∞

Ivan’s men were already in position. The bomb had done what it was supposed to do. Stun Dmitry’s men before the slaughter. They hit the stairs of the abandoned apartment building in a single line, guns pointed and lightsshining. Their feet in cadence, they came out of the front of the building across the trolley tracks and ran across the street.

Police pulledup, meeting them head on. Blue lights lined the street with loud sirens blasting. Fire trucks pulled down onto the fire-blazed cobblestone. Before the police could respond, they saw the men. Going to their holsters, shots rang out.

Ivan’s men split into two distinct lines, shooting large high-power automatic weapons. The blasts from their weapons sparked the dark lane like fireworks.

Police officers ran behind their cars. Shooting came from both sides;police dodged as the men made their way into the burning building.

They had one mission. To clean house. Kill Dmitry. Kill Anatoly.

On top of the roof of the old apartment building