A Hazardous Game



Trey Hazard stood in the hull of a cargo ship rampantly bound for Northern Africa, a high resolution digital camera held firmly in his hands, flashing away at sinister instruments, which lay in front of him. His hair had been died honey for this trip, and at the moment fell in greasy strands over his emerald eyes, which matched the water off the coast of St. Vincent, which the ship would be passing in a few minutes, if it was on time. Trey checked his phone which had been boosted to get full bars anywhere in the world, thanks to Servizio per le Informazioni e la Sicurezza Militare, or SISM, the Italian military intelligent and security service, who employed him at the moment. Their satellite made sure of that, as it hurtled through space in low earth orbit. That came in use when he had to know the exact location he was at any moment in time. The camera took pictures silently, not that a small noise would matter much, the metal of the ship would block out whispers, even a slightly annoyed voice with volume to match
wouldn’t drift through the solid hull easily. Any sound that did make it through would just be written off as the cargo by the dimwitted, yet heavily armed, sailors that crewed the massive ship.

Every guard he had come across seemed to be the same; little to no intelligence, with a homicidal drive. Trey supposed henchmen with high IQs’ and no moral values were hard to come by these days. He quickly finished up taking pictures for just about every angle he
could possibly manage and slipped the thin memory card into his phone. It took less than a minute for his phone to read the card and send the pictures to SISM. As soon as he pressed send the photos he took would show up in their inbox from there they could figure out what they wished to do in terms of stopping this bomb from ending innocent lives and starting another bloody war. For a few seconds, he stood there admiring the handy-work of the bomb that rested before him. His eyes had rested upon many of these devices, and in one case, bore witness to the terrible destruction to life, and property they unleashed.

But that was another time. It wasn’t his job to care, nor was he prepared to do so at the moment. Trey didn’t much care for the illegal firearms that rested around him. A wave rocked the insanely large container ship tilting the floor at an oblique angle. The heavy chains that held down the 3 3.1 million dollar black market stingray tanks down to the floor groaned in moratorium. They clinked and whined as the ship settled back down again, the sounds echoing off the welded steel walls, and filling his ears with an ominous ring. Little did he
take notice. Trey was lost in a jungle of plywood cargo boxes.

There was no doubt in his mind what filled the 5 feet-by-5 feet boxes, for he had chosen to take a risk of his own and found out for himself. What he had found had not shocked him in any way, for he had had a pretty clear image in his head already. The box he had forced into was loaded with a good number of 50cal Barret rifles, capable of doing more damage he desired contemplate at the moment.

The crew was happily oblivious to the spy in their midst, and Trey intended to keep it that way for as long as he could. He decided he had gazed at the half built bomb long enough, and carefully laid the thin sheet of metal, which had hid the beast, then moved an empty plywood box over the sheet metal so the scene looked untouched. Noiselessly, he maneuvered himself through the jungle of wooden boxes filled with weapons that would surely spell the end of thousands of people, when put in the hands of their final owner. The hull was pitch black, no form of light was able to break through the solid steel; making the environment all the more hostile. For that reason, he carried a small LED flashlight painted black. With the addition of the bright light, he was able to snake his way through the maze. He held it over his shoulder, the standard way of any police and military personnel. His training, not only in the US marines, but also in England’s SAS was drilled into him so stalwartly that he felt that the life he was living now was something he would never be able to give up in full. Trey had worked with some operatives that had expressed issues with that fact; they longed for families and meaningful relationships, possibly even love. It seemed to him that everyone who had something to live for made mistakes, and the situation punished such failures with death. Ironic, he though. But as for a family of his own, none of those things others longed for sounded remotely attractive to him, not one of them sparked a wish for a normal life in him. He believed maybe that was why he had made so few mistakes in his career, and the fact that he had somehow survived through everything he had faced in the past to fight another day. And that was what he truly loved to do; fight. The adrenaline rush of bullets flying through the air, aimed at him, only him left him grateful for the job he held. His love for danger only made him that much better at it. Killing had came naturally, only aided by his keen senses, and the thrill he obtained by knowing everyone was plotting his downfall. Trey knew that the life he lived was not preordained for many, but he had made the cut.

The rectangle shaped doorway presented itself as Trey rounded a corner in the disorientating maze. The doorway held the first step toward his freedom from the dreadful boat. He flipped out his phone once again to check the GPS tracker. Just as he wished, the boat was on time. They should be passing St.Vincent any minute, leaving him only a small amount of time to make his escape. It was a tight time schedule, but time never seemed to be on his side. Cautiously, Trey made his way into the fluorescently lit corridor and climbed the stainless steel staircase that took him to the top deck.

After taking the stairs less than a story, new footsteps echoed through the tinny hallway joining Trey’s. He froze for a second, and listened to the clang of weighty boots slamming down on the steel stairs. The sound hit the white walls, and finally came in contact with his eardrums. The footsteps grew louder with every passing moment, descending down the stairs, coming ever closer. Trey looked around for somewhere to slip back into the darkness and continue to go unnoticed. His search ended with no possible outcome, and left him stranded in a sea of white with nowhere to hide.

Though his face showed no emotion, adrenalin flooded through his veins, causing his heart to pound and his mind to work more rapidly. Once again he was reminded of how grand his employment made him feel. Only one choice presented itself to him. He backed up against a wall, and then climbed onto the railing of the staircase, around the corner from the on-coming person. The illumination was dimmed, for the light above had flicked out some time ago. Trey couldn’t help but think about that light, and wondered if his own light would go out anytime soon, possibly even in that corridor that very minute. Shrugging the pessimistic though off, he knew he still hand one trick up his sleeve; the element of surprise was on his side.

Determining the stature of the man making his way toward him, he guessed the man was muscular, for every man on the ship seemed able to bench press double their weight. Trey stood at around six foot, though that meant little to the men waltzing around the ship, whose heights reached six foot seven. His muscles were defined and strong, but he still felt no need to challenge one of these men to a fair fight. Trey gripped his steel flashlight tight, it was the only weapon that would kill stealthily, and at the moment, he needed silence. He knew, even if he was able to obtain a gun, it would be too messy, and the sound it would make when fired would echo up the stairwell to the top floors. Silence was golden after all. His hands were the best weapons he could ask for at the moment. The footsteps grew near; Trey could now see the shadow made by the man. His body tensed, ready to spring and take the kill. He held the flashlight tighter, if it slipped from his hand, the fight would last longer than he wanted it to. A short fight was more beneficial than one that spanned more than ten seconds. His logic behind this was simple; with a short fight, there was less time for your opponent to hit you back, and less time for someone to catch on to your brawl.

The man rounded the corner, his eyes focused on the stairs instead of the ceiling, where Trey was hiding. Trey had been correct, the man was heavily build, his muscles well formed, some so much so that they seemed to have eaten up the human he should have been, and turned him into a monster as solid as rock. The man looked more like a body builder than a crew mate.

Trey sprang down and smashed his flashlight into the temple of the man, catching him completely off guard. He let out am echoing yelp, then collapsed to the steel platform out cold. Trey bent down and whipped the blood off of his flashlight. He knew he should at least try and conceal the body, but once again, time played a foremost responsibility in what he had to get done. The last thing he needed at the moment was another task added to his to-do list. The phone appeared in his hand once more as he tracked the ship's movements. If he was lucky, he had ten minutes to get into the water or he would not have enough air to get to the island.

Trey sprinted up the staircase two steps at a time. His long legs made running all the more undemanding, and running ten miles every morning he wasn’t on a mission, made climbing six stories of stairs nothing more than a relaxing walk in the park. To his dismay, the cry the man had made when Trey smashed part of his scull in had not gone unnoticed. Three men entered the stairway coming face to face with Trey. Finally the adrenalin pounding through him served a practical purpose. In four seconds, he had already taken down the first man by slamming his fist into his nose then temple, one of the weakest parts of the head. Many of his punches were aimed at key pressure points on the human body, which allowed him to take down his opponent rather quickly if executed correctly. With a thud, he fell to the ground unconscious

The stairwell allowed him little room to battle, presenting him with even more of a disadvantage. One of the men divulged a concealed pistol which he then took aim at Trey with. Trey’s heel crashed down on his hand before he had time to pull the trigger, knocking the gun out of his grasp and sending it barreling against the white wall with a clatter. Another round-house kick was delivered to the man’s head before he had time to retrieve another weapon. His body joined his crewmates on the chilling floor. Now it was one on one, a more or less fair fight. Trey couldn’t help but smile at what he had achieved already. The sly smile did its good, intimidating his opponent with his show of self-assurance. Sometimes confidence could be all the aid you required in a fight. It was very useful when you could tell the person you took on already doubted whether or not challenging you was such a bright idea. Trey’s bluish-green eyes bore into his opponents chestnut ones and easily picked up the feeling of uneasiness. The man seemed young for the kind of work he had gotten himself into, maybe nine-teen at most. Still very much a child in the world but carrying out malevolent deeds ordered by iniquitous criminals all the same. It was more proof that the world they found themselves in was far from good. Suddenly the lights clicked off, clothing them in complete darkness. Trey swung out with another kick but his heel met nothing but thin air. Half a second later the stairwell was illuminated in a dim red light. A blaring siren accompanied it a moment later. With the momentary eradication of illumination, Trey saw that the man had disappeared back through the doorway he had come out before.

“Damn it.” He cursed as he sprinted up the stairs and threw the small doorway that opened to the deck. He slipped through and closed the door silently behind him. Footsteps pounded down the stairs he had just ran up, he lessoned to the fade away on the other side of the solid steel wall. Trey breathed a sigh of relief, thankful he had just missed the raid against his life. Now all he had to do was make it across the deck without being spotted and shot to death. He surveyed the ship that lay in front of him. The bright blue sky expanded for miles above him, the direct light blinding him for a few seconds. He had been trapped underneath in the cargo hold for so long that the light shocked his system. A warm Caribbean Sea breeze brushed his face, carrying the salty smell of the sea with it. The sun burned down, heating the air around him to a tropical temperature. Trey stayed in the shade of the ship as long as he could but knew the soft shadow would not last him forever. He had stashed his scuba equipment in one of the life boats on the top deck. The only obstacle he would have to overcome was getting to the boat without being spotted. He hoped his luck would show and he would be able to make his way across the deck in secret. Trey stepped into the hot sun shine, glanced around checking his surroundings, and began to run to the life boat. Half way to the safety of the boat shouts echoed across the deck accompanied by shotgun fire. The bullets flew through the air cutting into the steel behind him feet away from his heels, sparks shot up like beautiful fireworks exploding in bright yellows and whites. Trey broke into a sprint as even more gun fire was heard on the deck. His heart pounded, pushing him to go even faster. Shouts detonated on the ship drifting over to him though his ears did not pick up the voices, his mind too busy to comprehend their words. Lady luck had defiantly not felt the need to aid him on his mission that day. The bright orange lifeboat loomed before him. It providing him with a sense of peace for it was much like a safe haven of his very own. The thick fiberglass and metal frame would never be able to hold the oncoming rain of bullets for long but he just needed a few seconds to strap on his gear and dive into the clear ocean and he knew that’s exactly what the boat would offer him. Trey slipped into the boat just as a line of machine gun fire whooshed past him. A quick sigh of relief was issued as he noticed that his scuba gear was still where he had stashed it and was in working order. The shouts were growing louder by the second, he could hear their heavy boats pound on the thick metal deck of the ship. Trey strapped on his gear in 10 seconds flat and peered out one of the windows that over looked the ocean and the world opposite to the boat. The lush green rainforest of St. Vincent erupted from the blue ocean like a paradise on earth. The container ship was only a few miles off the coast. Trey smiled again, he had timed it perfectly. Bullets ripped through the fiberglass wall of the lifeboat, cutting everything inside to complete sheared. The crew felt no need to bring the stowaway to the captain with his heart still beating and that was shown in their merciless antics. Soon five men unloaded their weapons at the boat until there seemed to be nothing left but a hanging wreck of a once lifeboat. The gun fire silenced as the men took a step back to admire their handy work, proud that they had just taken down the man that was about to make fools out of them all. Little did they know that Trey was already on his way to St. Vincent very much alive and well after slipping through a window and dropping to the ocean below milliseconds before the men unloaded their guns on the lifeboat.