ZERO DARK THIRTY

This story contains themes of sexual & physical violence.

Her head and neck snapped awake as the passenger side of her vehicle began to run over the warning bumps on the side of the road .Come on Rachel, she whispered to herself as she corrected her driving, steering her truck back onto the road. That would be nice, she continues. I'm on my way to receive a commendation of excellence for my work as leader of my squad and I get took out by a curb. I better put on some wake me up music. The bluish green glow of the radio reflects across her glasses as she scrolls through the stations searching for some up beat music.

Stretching as she yawns, Rachel's blurry vision frantically searches for an exit off the dark highway in hopes of taking a quick nap.

As if out of no where, a sign appears, " SERVICE PLAZA", 10 MILES. A half happy smirk inches across Rachel's tired face. Thank you Lord, she mumbles. The ten mile trek seemed more like 100 miles as the weary young lady sped down the highway. Where the hell is the exit? shouts Rachel. Traveling another few miles, Rachel sees the exit sign for the plaza, but her delight was quickly transformed into anger as she noticed a sign plastered below the exit sign. PLAZA CLOSED NEXT EXIT 40 MILES.

Slamming on her brakes, Rachel finds herself cussing out loud to no one. 40 miles? 40 f-freaking mile to the next stop. Somebody's going to get their butt whooped. I can't drive any further.

Suddenly an idea runs across Rachel's mind. "I'll just park in their lot, in the back, in the dark. No one will ever see me. Rachel slowly drives to a secluded area in the parking lot, she parks her truck, looks around and notices that she can easily be seen by traffic entering or driving pass the plaza. Rachel decides to hide her camo painted truck back amongst the trees where it won't be noticed

Positioning her vehicle further back in the woods, Rachel again checks her visibility. Total darkness. Satisfied with her location, she covers the dashboard with her coat to block any light escaping from the dash. She rolls her windows halfway down to feel the breeze flowing through the trees. As Rachel relaxes, she looks into the rearview mirror and softly says, " nite, nite. I will see you in the morning. She blows herself a kiss as she curls up in her reclined seat preparing for sleep.

Suddenly, Rachel is awakened by the sound of car doors slamming and of little girls crying. Sitting up to get a better look, Rachel sees two tall men herding a group of young girls toward the dark, closed plaza building.

What the hell?, Rachel asks herself. Wanting a better look, Rachel quietly exits her truck and slowly creeps along side of the black car that brought the captives to this location.

As Rachel remains hidden by the darkness, a passenger van enters the closed lot. Once parked, the two men stay with their vehicle while the larger group of children are directed toward the dark building.

Alone, the two men begin to speak to each other . Bet they're getting a nice chunk of change for these brats, says the driver. More than we'll ever see, you can believe that, replies the passenger.

As the two men continue to talk Rachel carefully returns to her truck. These guys must be child sex traffickers, she thought as she reached her truck.

Slowly opening the rear door of her truck and reaching in, Rachel carefully retrieves her weapon.

Suddenly Rachel freezes. The situation at hand and the feel of the cold steel of the gun in her hand propelled her back in time. Back to a time long buried in her memory. A moment in her young life when incest and rape remained hidden in the family closet.

As a single warm tear rolled down the side of Rachel 's face, she remembered. She remembered that day in the bedroom. Of her tiny body being pinned down in a corner with no chance of escaping and her mother standing in the doorway, waving the gun and screaming at the top of her lungs at her father.I told you if you ever touch my daughter, I would blow your damn head off. You're not going to do her like you did me. She remembered begging her mother not to kill Papa. Tears flowing from her eyes. Long sweat soaked locks of hair sticking to my face. She remembered the fear when Papa's drunkenness made him buck up against an angry victim of what was about to do to my frail body. She remembered the confusion in her head when her mother told her to go to the barn and play. She remembered hiding in the barn as she heard three loud shots ring out through the quiet summer air. She remembered the blank faces on the jury when my mother was acquitted. They knew what he was doing. So did the judge. So did the sheriff. The whole town knew, but it was considered family business. But why did it have to come to this.

The laughter of the two men brought her back to her present time.

Holstering her 9mm hand gun, Rachel eases to the rear of her truck, puts on her mask, an old I.C.E bullet proof vest and removes her sniper rifle.

Child molestation cases have always played heavy on Rachel's soul. They angered her tremendously.

Crouching low,Rachel quietly approached the two men standing outside their vehicle. Rising up, Rachel speaks, “Papa”. Startled, the men turned to see if a child had gotten away.

Instantly, two shots rang out. One striking the neck. The other penetrated the forehead.

Walking past the warm, bleeding bodies, Rachel searches for the entrance to the building. Sneaking around the exterior of the building, Rachel finds an unlocked window to the men's restroom.

Entering the piss flavored, brown tinted room, Rachel raises her finger to her nose. This is why women don't share bathrooms, she thought.

Suppressing involuntary gags, Rachel quickly exits the room.

Peeping through the door, Rachel sees an empty dining area. Entering the room, Rachel slowly crept around the room, remaining close to the wall.

A tall, muscular young man appears from a connecting room, holding a large cake.

“Yeah, this should shut them up”, the man shouts back towards the room he just came from.

Quickly Rachel stood up from her hidden position.

“Where are the girls?” she shouted. Startled, the man drops the cake, smashing it on the floor.

“Look at what you made me do!”, shouts the man still looking at the floor. “Where are the girls, Rachel asks again.

Angry, the man looked up slowly, noticing the gun in her hand, he swiftly ran back into the room.

Rachel begins to shout, Girls, girls, where are you? Shots explode from the kitchen area, aimed at Rachel.

Diving on the floor, Rachel returns fire. A voice shouts from the room. “Who the hell are you? I don't recognize you! You know what I want, replies Rachel. I want the kids! Not gonna happen, was the reply from the kitchen followed by multiple gun shots.

As a gun battle ensues, Rachel hears the screaming of small voices echoing from a small hallway. Help! Help us!

Rachel contemplated a run towards the voices but she would have to lose her cover and possibly her life.

Feeling defeated with no other choice Rachel remembered the one grenade she had stashed in her coat pocket. If I use this it might be the end of my career, Rachel thought. But I could save these little lives.

All I want is the children, shouts Rachel. I don't give a fuck about you. You can leave. Just toss your weapons and walk away.

No way, shouts a voice from the kitchen. The children are with me! They’re going to stay with me! Go to hell!

You first, whispered Rachel as she pulled the pin from the grenade and tossed it in the kitchen. Followed by a massive explosion. Fire, smoke and debris instantly filled the room.

Waiting until the air clears enough to see, Rachel rushes down the hallway. Stopping at the door where she hears the children crying, Rachel prepares to kick in the door. 1,2,3, Rachel kicks the door in, gun out, rolls on the floor to avoid gun fire then jumps to her feet. Pointing her weapon in multiple directions, Rachel notices a group of frightened children cowering in a corner crying.

Dropping to her knees,Rachel attempts to comfort the frightened children, but the closer she gets to them, the louder they scream.

Please don't kill us. One of the children begs. We just want to go home. I want my grandpa, a little girl cries. Where's my papa?

At that moment Rachel took the time to look around. Only then did she notice the cone shaped hats tethered to the children's heads. The bright yellow and purple banner broadcasting the words “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” for all the world to see. Looking behind her, Rachel spotted a table full of wonderfully wrapped birthday gifts.

Rejecting the obvious revelation, Rachel asks one of the frightened children, what's your name baby? Barbara, she answered softly. Okay Barbara, is this a birthday party? The child tearfully nodded yes, Rachel threw her hands in the air. Fearing the answer to the next question, Rachel asked, Sweetie, where is the birthday girl? Barbara began to cry. Rachel asks again, Barbara, where is the birthday girl? Barbara raises a puggy little hand and points towards the kitchen. She's with her grandpa. He’s the governor. We were going to surprise her for her birthday.

Looking around at the bruised, bloody children, the destruction to the building and the number of dead bodies littering the landscape, Rachel had to think fast.

Hey kids, shouts Rachel,startling them. Let's play a game. You guys ever play “ Guess my face? A dull slow no fills the room. Ok, replies Rachel, trying to excite the crowd. This is how we play. First, who likes money? The kids all raise their hands. Alrighty then. This is how we play. I cover my face, then I ask you a question and if you guess right you get $20. If you guess right twice, you get $50. Y’all wanna play? An excited yay fills the room. Okay, says Rachel. I'm going to step outside the door then when I ask, you tell me what color are my eyes. Stepping outside the room, Rachel asks, okay, what color are my clothes? The children instantly shout an array of colors. Blue, Green, black. Nope, says Rachel. Try again. This time Rachel shows the kids a $50 bill and asks, am I black, Mexican or Hawaiian. The girls all shout, “you're black!”. Wrong again shouts Rachel. Y’all don't want any money. $100 if you can tell me what color is my car? Colors are shouted out. Yellow, screams Rachel. Who said yellow. Barbara waves her hand in the air. Here you go, little winner. You just made $100. Rachel tosses the balled up money into the room.

Rachel plays this game until she is satisfied that she has filled the girl's mind with so many false facts that they couldn't possibly describe her to the police.

Okay ladies, this is the last game for all the money. Excited, the kids began barking like a pack of dogs. The only rule is, to win, you must be the last one to leave the room. I'm going to close the door and turn off the lights. Then I'm going to wait outside the door to see who is the last one to come out. No cheating. Rachel turns out the light and closes the door.

Quickly Rachel races to her vehicle, following her path of terror, death and destruction. Reaching her truck, Rachel pulls off slowly trying to avoid leaving tire tread prints or disturbed soil.

Turning back onto the dark lonely highway, heading to her final destination ,Rachel thinks to herself, Damn, I’m still tired.

D.L. Pitts

.

.