Within the first floor of the diner at the end of the pier an unnerving silence held the remaining patrons hostage. Forty FIRE Team officers had already ordered and were chowing down without a care in the world. While the other families sat motionless, Lane and Apollena were hard at work memorizing the faces of the officers that had let their masks slip.
“Hey. HEY! What are y’all staring at exactly,” spoke an officer who’d let a few crumbs dribble down his greying goatee. His mouth hung open in a perpetual scowl.
“The ocean,” said Lane. His tone was flat. His eyes starred right through the out of shape officer that had spoken up.
“The ocean, huh?” Wiping his mouth with the back of a gloved hand, he slid out from the red vinyl book with some effort and stood up. His knees had an audible creek and pop.
Lane inclined his head to the ocean, “Right out that window there, yeah.”
The officer continued his advance, almost a waddle, “Are you mouthing off to me, son?” It wasn’t really a question but an invitation for conflict.
“Sounded like I answered your question… Officer…” Lane looked the officer up and down with his eyes. “Doesn’t look like you have your tags on. Are you with an actual service branch, or are you and your men… Role playing?”
The officer pulled the black balaclava mask up over his mouth and nose, “You seem awfully nosy, son. Maybe somebody should have taught you to mind your own business.”
Lane said nothing.
“I said, ‘Somebody should have taught you to mind your business’,” The officer repeated, leaning in and raising his voice. It was enough of a shout for one of the civilian patrons to jump and accidentally drop their silverware to the ground. The resulting clatter caused several agents to jump up, hands on their pistols and rifles.
“Your men seem awfully jumpy. Did all of them skip their fire discipline training?” Lane asked.
The officer grabbed Lane by the collar, “You got a smart fucking mouth on you, don’t ya?” When Lane’s expression and posture didn’t bend toward fear, the officer unlatched that safety strap on his pistol. Yet there remained no change in the younger man’s stone stare.
“Are you going to charge me with something, officer, or just start shooting?” Lane asked.
“Brother,” Apollena hissed.
The officer turned in the direction of the dark honey skinned woman wearing an unzipped life jacket, jade sports top and matching high-waisted thong bikini. Her arms were folded, legs crossed, and she leaned back in her chair against the bar top counter.
With a scoff, the officer gave Lane another glare and a lecherous once over of Luna, “Brother? I think you need your eyes checked, little girl. If y’all are kin, I’m Sam Jackson.”
“You know, for someone who says they do a lot of thinking, your actions suggest that your mind hardly gets that much exercise,” Apollena shrugged.
Lane was immediately tossed aside. Not thrown off balance, but dismissed to the side long enough for the officer to unholstered his pistol. He didn’t aim at Apollena, but his thumb switched the safety off.
Luna scoffed again, but did not divert her eyes from the officer, “Beretta, M9. Looks like you purchased some aftermarket nonsense for the barrel: makes your side arm look like something from a hip-hop video. Does MTV sponsor your training?”
“Go ahead and open your mouth one more goddamn time, see what happens,” The officer spat. The saliva was visibly soaking through the black cloth mask. Moreover, his hand shook slightly. It might be the first time he’d actually drawn his weapon on someone who didn’t blink or back down. With intimidation proving to be ineffective, the officer’s frustration grew exponentially.
“What will happen is that your normally reliable sidearm will jam. You’ll thoughtlessly try and fire again only for the weapon to then misfire; either burning or critically injuring your hand. You’ll curse, then a number of your trigger happy friends will also turn their weapons on me only to be met with the exact same results.”
Lane spoke up as he calmly returned to the seat beside his sister, “Did you and your band of mercenaries really wake up this morning intent on murdering civilians, or is there an actual purpose to you being here? What are your orders, soldier?”
The officer was breathing heavy now, summoning the will to remain tough, whatever that was supposed to mean. Nearly screaming the words, he replied, “We swore an oath to defend the homeland from people that don’t belong here. We swore an oath to take our homeland back!”
“That’s odd,” Apollena said, tilting her head to one side, “Did you let someone take it from you?”
Without further hesitation, the officer lifted his pistol and pulled the trigger.
Click. Clack.
The frustrated man pulled the trigger again.
CLAKOOOOOMPH!
“SON OF A BITCH,” The officer screamed, dropping his pistol to the ground. He held his hand in agony. Blood pooled down the burnt tactical glove onto the checkered linoleum floor.
“She’s armed, she’s armed, weapons loose,” Shouted another officer as several rose from their booths and trained their weapons on Apollena. In response, she inspected her nails and was mildly disappointed one had chipped on the kayak ride over to the pier.
Lane stared straight ahead as the frustrated clicks from pistols and long guns alike could be heard over the muffled screams of patrons. The civilians had ducked under their tables and covered their heads. Only one teenage girl had the courage to continue recording from her phone while she ducked for cover. Eventually, the men lowered their weapons, confused. Only one other FIRE agent had been so impatient to shoot Lane that he’d also misfired and burned his hand.
“So,” Lane said as he tapped the counter top with his palm, “Who among your platoon is responsible for the med kit?” He leaned down slightly trying to look the officer in the eye.
“Fuck you!” barked the officer.
Lane shrugged, “Suit yourself. It’s just a surface wound anyhow. You’ll be fine in a day or two. Of course, it’ll be rather embarrassing to be bandaged up while you’re in court. It’ll look real tough until the story gets out that instead of a heroic wound in the line of duty, you recklessly discharged your weapon without properly inspecting and cleaning your ordnance.”
Luna counted on her fingers as she listed off the military code of conduct and legal violations they’d racked up, “Also, section 18 U.S.C. § 924(c)(4): Brandishing a firearm outside your scope of duty. That’s probably five years minimum.”
The wounded agent blinked.
Luna continued, “You’ve got at least three agents going back and forth into the kitchen and office. Searching private owned spaces without a warrant? Probably another year, a couple months if you got a good lawyer?”
“Do you have a good lawyer, officer?” Lane asked.
By now, most of the federal agents had put their masks back on and were scrambling for the exit. The officer that attempted to shoot Luna, still reeling in pain, stood up to his full height. Or, he attempted to. Trying to act tough while cradling his right hand in his left was a hard sell.
Apollena held up another finger to her list, “Attempted second degree murder; that’s when you shoot before thinking, PC 12022.53. Five to nine years minimum. Depending on whether you have a previous history of domestic violence, the judge would probably lean toward nine.”
Lane finally stood up, not in the officer’s face, but eye level, “That’s gonna be a tough wrap to beat, isn’t it, Thomas? Don’t you have a history of domestic abuse? That’s why your wife left you to go live with her mom back in Indiana. You didn’t stop to think this incident might have a negative effect on your custody hearing, did you, officer Thomas Michael Dunn?”
Officer Dunn, like he had all throughout his youth until his dishonorable discharge from the army reserves, to his recruitment as an officer with FIRE could only respond with violence. On impulse, he cocked his injured arm back and punched Lane square in the jaw.
Lane didn’t even dodge the blow. He simply rolled with the punch.
The blow visibly hurt Officer Dunn far more than the twenty-year old who had experienced more violence and brutality than the forty year old, divorced, federal agent.
Rubbing his chin, Lane sighed, “Worst of all, you’re gonna forever be known as the federal agent who was bested by an unarmed coast guard recruit fresh out of BT.”
Officer Dunn nearly doubled over from the pain. Reluctantly, the wounded man made the only smart decision to date; he turned and walked away.
“Oh, don’t forget PC 240, assault and battery,” Apollena called after the man.
There was a moment of silence from the kitchen staff and the terrified patrons still hiding under the tables. Then, a chortle, a chuckle, and an explosion of laughter from the teenage girl who had been filming from under the table.
“Both of you are fucking insane,” the short girl exclaimed. She moved her jet black hair tied back in a long braid to the opposite shoulder. As she stood up, she continued to fight off fits of laughter. “Literally, insane. Locas!”
Lane and Luna looked at one another and shrugged. She wasn’t wrong.
“I mean, both of you could have been shot, point blank. Are you like, high or something? If you are, I’ll take a full bag of whatever you’ve got,” the girl continued.
Lane rubbed his chin again. There’d probably be a bruise tomorrow; “Unfortunately, we are painfully sober. Although, I could use a stiff drink later tonight.”
The girl shook her head, “No. No way. No rational person would run their mouth like that to one of those pigs. There were like a hundred guns between them all, easy.”
“Irresponsible is what it was,” Said an older gentleman from the back of the diner. He marched toward the door, but stopped to glare at Lane, “You could have gotten us all killed.”
Apollena glared back, “Well, I was raised in a country where we don’t die on our knees.”
“Yeah, which country was that?” The man snorted and sulked out the door.
“[THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA YOU RACIST FUCK!]” Luna shouted out in French and continued to swear under her breath. Lane reached out for her hand and gently massaged her wrist with his thumb. It took her a few breaths, but eventually, Apollena sat back down. She reached for her glass of water and started chugging.
“Okay, wow, but… There’s some truth to those guys just shooting all of us, yeah?” The girl with the phone said quietly, “Part of me wishes I was as crazy as you, but I don’t want to be the reason someone else gets shot.”
Lane nodded, “That’s understandable. You are brave though. You did everything you were supposed to do; stay calm, record, and don’t interfere.”
“Right, unlike you and your… Um, girlfriend?”
“Twin sister,” Luna corrected.
“Oh, my bad. You and your sister should probably take your own advice,” The girl said uneasily.
Lane nodded in agreement, “We should, but we went in knowing the risks or lack there of: their guns wouldn’t work. On top of that, if we don’t stand up to bullies, they will roll over us every single time.”
“Bullies with guns? That’s a different story, yeah?” The girl grit her teeth. Then looked at Luna who was trying to hide a smirk. As the girl played the conversation back in her head, she tilted her head to the side, curious; “Wait, you told that guy his gun would jam and break. How… How could you possibly know all their guns wouldn’t work?”
Apollena leaned in to whisper in the girl’s ear, “A witch never reveals her secrets.”
The girl’s eyes grew wide as saucers and she took a step back, “Shit. That’s unreal.”
Apollena cackled and stood up, extending a hand out to Lane, “Correct. Totally unreal.”
“But, for real though, y’all are like magic?” The girl turned her attention to Lane as his sister pulled him up, “You um, read that guy’s mind too? Told him all about his ex-wife and divorce? Was that like a Jedi mind trick or something?”
Lane took his flip phone out from his vest pocket and opened his web browser, “Google.”
The girl scrunched up her face and tried to search Lane’s expression, but came up empty.
“Anyway, our relaxing day at the beach has been anything but that. Stay courageous, keep recording, and don’t let thugs intimidate you. If you kneel for them once, you’ll always be on the floor. Doesn’t mean you have to be a hero, or reckless. Stay smart and stand up for your rights,” Lane finished paying his bill and offered the crook of his arm to Luna. She accepted and the two walked toward the door.
Katrina sauntered down the stairwell just as Lane and Apollena found the exit; “I take it my spell craft worked?” She wore Lane’s spare shirt and shorts; a mildly inconvenient side effect of the spell circle having burned her clothes off during the ritual.
“Indeed. Curious though, where did you get the idea to exchange the gunpowder for sugar?” Lane asked with a grin.
Katrina shrugged, “What’s the saying, ‘Kill them with sweetness’?”
Lane chuckled, his jaw started to hurt in earnest now, “Close. Kill them with kindness.”
Katrina sighed, “Well, I wasn’t certain that the chemical equivalent of ‘kindness’ was readily stocked at this particular diner, so I hedged my bets with sugar.”
Apollena gave her younger sister a gentle caress on the shoulder, “From this day forward, we shall change the idiom to match your genius spell craft, my young queen.”
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