Mastim's Curse

The End

Crap, still no information. My reflexes are too fast. I pull the door shut, but take the time needed to pull a set of car keys out of the pocket of the second man. I also take his AK-47, which I sling behind my back. So far, my quiet, ninja assault has been more of a Wild West shoot-out, not at all what I want. I sprint down the hallway to distance myself from the death behind me before this place is crawling with bad guys. I turn the corner and run down a similar hallway before taking another turn. With a thump, I run right into a short, plump man. For a moment, the impact knocks the wind out of me. While gasping for breath, I look down to see the hilt of my sword sticking out of his stomach.

He's unarmed and has the look and dress of one of the workers. He's eyes are wide like a puppy that's been beaten and doesn't know why. He moans in pain and drops to his knees. Deflated, I kneel with him. Suddenly, I'm a teenage girl again. "I'm sorry... Oh shit. I'm so sorry."

"Why'd you stab me," he says in Spanish. He looks up at me. "You're that girl... Mastim."

His reference brings back memories of my Dad and the darkness comes back on me. "Yes... I am. Do you know where my Dad is?" I lay my hand on the hilt of the sword, but resist the dark urge to twist it.

"He's in number five," he mutters.

"What do you mean, number five?"

He moans again and then points up at the wall. And there it is... a map complete with 'You are here' pinned on it. The sense of urgency to keep moving is overwhelming and it's reinforced by the sound of not so distant yells. My sloppy handiwork has drawn unwanted attention. Then I remember about the hospital, and with a little urging, the man gives me directions to the nearest town. It's time to go. I look in to the eyes of the wounded man and dread what must be done next.

"I've got to pull this sword out," I say softly in Spanish. "I'll do it fast so it doesn't hurt as much."

"No... don't. I--"

Without another word, I rip the blade out quickly and a large spurt of blood sprays a sickly pattern on the floor. His eyes roll up into his head, and he falls sideways onto the floor. Tearing my eyes from him, I stand up to take the map from the message board with my blooded hand. Then I run.

The rifle bangs against my back in rhythm to my stride as I take another turn, making sure to hold my blade in a more defensive position. Right away, an empty snack room gets my attention. I run in and close the door behind me. Alone and out of sight, I take a deep breath and look at the now blood stained map. What seemed to be a maze before now makes perfect sense. There are several, small buildings with numbers on them surrounded by covered walkways that are themselves surrounded by other buildings like the one I'm in now. I take a quick glance through the window and see across the covered walkway is a building with a large number three painted on it. It has several cameras mounted at the windows that are actually one-way mirrors. My heart is really pumping now. Dad's room is close.

I poke my head out of the door to check if it's clear and notice the trail of blood I'm leaving. Crap! Some of my old wounds are bleeding again. There's not much I can do about it except to keep moving. So I'm off running again. Each step that brings me closer to Dad also heightens the feeling of dark power growing inside me until the walls fly past in a blur with my feet barely touching the ground. I am a shadow of darkness that passes one, then two men in the hall that don't even have time to react before they fall under my blade.

And then I'm there, at the door to building number five. It's locked of course. I go along the wooden walkway to the nearest window and push the video camera and it's tripod out of the way to look inside. The place is a mess with discarded food and drinks strewn all over the place, but I don't see Dad. For a moment, panic sets in at the thought that he's been moved to a different room. Then I see a pair of legs on the floor sticking out from behind a sofa.