The Trap
1390 Words
Francis sat on the porch steps all night, staring at the stars.
Inside the house, the lights went off one by one. Emma's room first. Then the living room. Finally, the bedroom he shared with Sarah. Or used to share. He wasn't sure anymore.
He didn't go inside. Didn't feel welcome. So he sat and waited for morning.
At 7:45 AM, the black SUVs arrived. Three of them this time. Not two agents. Twelve.
Francis stood as they climbed out. These weren't suit-and-tie agents like yesterday. These were tactical. Body armor. Helmets. Carrying rifles.
Mitchell stepped out of the lead vehicle, now wearing tactical gear himself.
"Sergeant Reed. Ready to go?"
Francis looked at the small army. "You said tests. This looks like an arrest."
"Just precautions. I'm sure you understand."
The front door opened. Sarah stood there with Emma hiding behind her. Both had been crying.
"Francis?" Sarah's voice shook. "What's happening?"
"It's okay," Francis said, not taking his eyes off Mitchell. "I'm just going with them. Like we agreed. I'll be back in a week."
"Why do they have guns?"
"Standard procedure, Mrs. Reed," Mitchell said. "Nothing to worry about."
But something felt wrong. Francis could sense it. The way the tactical team fanned out, surrounding the house. The way two agents moved toward the back door. The way Mitchell's hand rested on his sidearm.
"You're lying," Francis said quietly.
"Excuse me?"
"This isn't about tests. You're not bringing me back in a week." Francis's fists clenched. "What's really going on?"
Mitchell sighed. "You're smart. I'll give you that." He pulled out a folded document. "Executive order, signed six hours ago. You're being classified as a biological threat to national security. Indefinite detention. No trial."
Sarah gasped. "You can't do that!"
"Actually, we can. Special circumstances. Your husband isn't quite human anymore, Mrs. Reed. Normal laws don't apply."
"You promised!" Sarah screamed. "You said one week!"
"I lied." Mitchell shrugged. "Now, Sergeant Reed, you can come peacefully or we can do this the hard way. But either way, you're coming with us. Forever."
Francis felt something break inside him. Not his body. His restraint.
"No," he said.
"That's not an option."
"I said no." Francis took a step forward. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying with my family."
"Stand down, Reed." Mitchell raised his weapon. All twelve tactical agents did the same. "Last warning."
"Daddy!" Emma screamed from the doorway.
Time seemed to slow down.
Francis saw Mitchell's finger tighten on the trigger. Saw the other agents adjusting their aim. Saw Sarah pulling Emma back inside.
And something inside Francis switched on. Pure instinct. Pure survival.
He moved.
One second he was on the porch. The next, he was behind the nearest tactical agent, using the man as a shield. Bullets tore through the air where he'd been standing.
"Hold fire! Hold fire!" Mitchell shouted. "You'll hit Johnson!"
Francis twisted the rifle from Johnson's hands and tossed the agent aside—gently, not trying to hurt him. Just removing the threat.
"Stand down!" Francis shouted. "I don't want to hurt anyone!"
"Take him!" Mitchell ordered.
Four agents rushed him at once. Francis ducked under the first punch, swept the second agent's legs, and caught the third with an elbow to the chest. The fourth got a kick that sent him flying backward into the SUV, denting the door.
All in under three seconds.
"What the hell?" one agent whispered.
Francis stood in the center of them, breathing hard. Not from exertion. From adrenaline. From fear of what he was becoming.
"Please," he said. "Just leave. Let me stay with my family. I won't tell anyone about the serum. I'll disappear if you want. Just don't take me from them."
Mitchell pulled out a radio. "This is Alpha Team. Target is hostile. Requesting authorization for lethal force."
"No!" Sarah ran onto the porch. "He's not hostile! You attacked him!"
"Ma'am, get back inside—"
"This is my husband! You can't just take him!"
"Watch me." Mitchell raised his g*n, aiming at Francis. "Last chance, Reed. Surrender or I'll put you down like a rabid dog."
Francis looked at Sarah. At Emma peeking around the doorway. His girls. His everything.
He couldn't let them see him kill these men. Couldn't let Emma watch her father become a monster.
But he couldn't let them take him either. If he disappeared into a government black site, he'd never see his family again.
"Francis, don't," Sarah begged. "Please. Just go with them. We'll figure something out. We'll get a lawyer. We'll—"
"They're not going to let me go, Sarah. You know that."
Tears streamed down her face. "Then what do we do?"
"You run." Francis's voice was steady. Calm. "When I move, you grab Emma and you run. Get to your sister's house. Don't stop. Don't look back."
"I'm not leaving you!"
"You have to. For Emma."
Mitchell's radio crackled. "Alpha Team, you are authorized for lethal force. Neutralize the target."
"Copy that." Mitchell smiled coldly. "Fire!"
Twelve rifles opened up at once.
Francis moved faster than thought. He grabbed the nearest car door—already damaged from his earlier kick—and ripped it completely off. Bullets slammed into the metal as he used it as a shield.
"Sarah, run! Now!"
Sarah grabbed Emma and bolted for her car.
"Stop them!" Mitchell shouted.
Two agents turned toward Sarah. Francis threw the car door like a frisbee. It spun through the air and slammed into both agents, knocking them down.
"No one touches my family!" Francis roared.
He charged into the remaining agents. No holding back now. No pulling punches.
An agent swung a rifle butt at his head. Francis caught it, crushed the barrel with his bare hand, and shoved the agent backward.
Another came from behind. Francis spun, faster than the man could react, and struck him in the chest. Not hard enough to kill. Just hard enough to put him down.
Mitchell fired his pistol. Three shots. Center mass.
The bullets hit Francis and he felt them. Felt the impact. The burning. But they didn't drop him. Didn't even slow him down.
He looked down at his chest. Three holes in his shirt. Blood. But even as he watched, the bleeding stopped. The wounds closed.
"Impossible," Mitchell whispered.
Francis looked up at him. "You should have kept your promise."
He moved.
Mitchell tried to run but Francis was on him in a heartbeat. He grabbed the agent by his tactical vest and lifted him off the ground.
"You come near my family again," Francis said quietly, "and I won't be this gentle. Understand?"
Mitchell nodded, terrified.
Francis dropped him and turned. All twelve agents were down. Not dead. Just hurt. Unable to fight.
Sarah's car screeched out of the driveway. Safe. She and Emma were safe.
But Francis's house—his home—was destroyed. Bullet holes everywhere. Windows shattered. The front door hanging off its hinges.
And he could hear sirens in the distance. Police. More agents probably.
Francis looked at his hands. Covered in blood. Not his. He'd tried to be gentle. Tried not to hurt them too badly. But he'd still done this. Still become this.
A monster who beat up a dozen men in his own front yard.
Mitchell groaned, trying to reach his radio. Francis crushed it under his boot.
"Tell whoever you work for," Francis said, "that Francis Reed is done being a lab rat. Done being a weapon. I'm just a man who wants to be left alone with his family."
He started running. Not toward Sarah—that would lead them to her. Away. Into the woods behind his neighborhood. Into hiding.
Behind him, more SUVs arrived. Helicopters appeared in the sky.
Francis ran faster, pushing his new body to its limits. Trees blurred past. Miles disappeared under his feet.
He didn't know where he was going. Didn't have a plan.
All he knew was that everything had changed. His peaceful life was over. The government would hunt him. The Russians probably too.
And worst of all, he'd made his family targets.
Emma's crying face flashed through his mind. The fear in her eyes as she watched her daddy fight.
"I'm sorry, baby girl," Francis whispered as he ran. "I'm so sorry."
But sorry wouldn't fix this.
Nothing would.
- Writer
