No matter what you might think, I swear I wasn't drinking, I don't do drugs and haven't read a scary book or watched a
horror movie in years. I'm one of the most realistic and level-headed people you can imagine. No flights of fancy, nothing between me and the ground. But I was fighting a skeleton. A real one, from what little I
could see. Of course, the room was dark, but I could tell he didn't like me. Guess it was that wicked knife in his hand. Nope, didn't like me at all. And the bony one made it clear he planned on sticking me with
that knife. Worst of all was that the two shots I fired at him seemed to have no effect. I wondered do skeletons wear bulletproof vests?
The thought was a fleeting one. Had to be. I was getting ready to get my
butt kicked by something that was dead. Or maybe not. After all, I didn't make it to 40 years old by giving into threats. I am the mother to a teenager. And twin boys. After motherhood, this should have been duck soup
for me.
He was laughing seemed as though every bad guy I met in Mexico thought something about me was funny and I was crouched next to the sliding glass doors, wedged behind the bed. The bathroom door was to
my far left. The door adjoining my room to Blake's was to my right. The door out into the hallway was straight ahead. Any way I went I'd have to pass through Bones to get there.
I had a clip with five rounds
since I'd already fired twice and one in the chamber. That left me six rounds scant comfort since the first two apparently bounced off him. I decided that maybe I shouldn't be so subtle and in that split second
while he stood looking at me and I was crouched looking at him I snapped the silencer off the end of the gun. It's the Service's own invention they make it especially for our guns. I was grateful at how fast
it came off in my hand.
I let it drop and immediately set up for a fast shot. I fired twice and should have hit him center mass that's right in the middle of his torso in that area where all the vital organs
are kept. If one has vital organs, that is. That left me four bullets and no way to reload since I might sleep with a gun under my pillow, but not a spare magazine.
He just kept coming, lunging over the bed at
me. I moved fast to the left, where the sliding glass door's lock should be and clawed at the curtain. I hoped my partner, hearing the gunshots, would come busting in through our adjoining door, which was closed, but
not locked. Knowing my luck, Blake was in the middle of one of his marathon showers. Unless, of course, Bones had already paid him a visit
I had the curtain back and was fumbling with the latch when the blade
of a knife slashed downward, actually grazing my left arm. Without thinking, I pulled to the right, still sandwiched between the curtain and the door, and yanked it as hard as I could. It gave and I swung myself out on
to the balcony into the blinding sunlight.
He didn't follow.
Hmmm, I thought as I huddled against the far wall of the little balcony. Even though a fall wouldn't be pleasant, I wasn't so high up that it
would definitely kill me. Maybe I'd only break a leg or something. Of course, it's hard to run with a broken leg
I decided to force him out into the light. I mean how long could I just stand out there on the
balcony. And Blake what if he went after Blake? If he was in the shower
I held my gun in tight to my body to make it harder for him to grab, took a deep breath and pulled the curtain all the way back.
Sunlight flooded the room and in the corner I saw a flash of darkness and light, just as the door was closing. I knew I was trembling I could feel the gun wavering. I moved quickly around the bed to the door and gave
the hallway a quick once over. No sign of him. I wondered if skeletons take elevators or do they hit the fire stairs? Frankly, that was one answer I could live without no pun intended.
I heaved a sigh of
relief, but my relief didn't last long. Suddenly I remembered my partner Blake! Where was he? Was he OK? Why didn't he respond to the gunshots I fired?
I shot over to the door and opened it, careful not to go
charging in you don't sneak up on cops or spies and he's been both. The door opened into Blake's room and I gently kicked it to hit the wall. Not hard. Just enough to know there was no one behind it.
Keeping
myself well to the side of the door frame, I crouched a bit and sneaked a peek into the room. The curtains were drawn and there was no visible sign of Blake. But I could tell Bones had been there the place was
ransacked. Clothes were strewn around the room, the mattress was shoved off the bed, the pillows on the floor. His closet had been emptied. My heart skipped a beat.
Maybe he was hurt or worse.
I left
caution behind and scurried into the room, first checking the bathroom, which was also torn apart. No Blake. I moved back into the bedroom and looked in the closet, behind the bed and under it. I opened the balcony door
and checked it, too.
He was gone vanished. What was I going to do? I decided I'd better call Eddie, our Service contact in Mexico City. I dialed his cell phone from Blake's room and, as I was standing there,
listening to it ring, I felt the hair on my arms stand up. Confused, I looked up and saw the doorknob leading from Blake's room into the hallway turning, ever-so-slowly.
Bones was back.
