The Wilder Side of Z

from home to home during her brutal childhood. It had taken her a few years, but she’d tracked down all her foster parents who’d abused her and she’d killed them. She’d been very careful, making each one look like an accident and had scattered them out over a number of years. She was skillful at killing and she was very imaginative when it came to executions. She’d executed those sorry bastards and she’d seen their fear as the light dimmed out of their eyes. She would have loved to have spit in their faces, but she could leave no trace of herself. It was enough to know that they would never harm another child. Wherever she went, Zahara made it a point of hunting down people who exploited and hurt children. She surfed the Dark Net and set up clandestine meetings with pedophiles and human traffickers. It was a hobby of hers and she found great satisfaction in it.

She looked around the dooryard of the cabin as well and sighed then looked at Xander.

“Yeah, I’m coming back here. You can bet on it, lover boy.”

“Yeap,” he said simply and pulled the truck out and down the snaking drive, which was nearly a half mile long. She turned in her seat to look one last time at the pond. She really liked fishing and was glad he’d taught her. She’d also enjoyed eating it as well. She didn’t know how to cook, so Xander had prepared their meals for them. He taught her how to season and batter the fish and then fry it. She’d never been taught how to cook, had always thought cookery was some kind of mysterious alchemy with food. He’d been patient with her and she felt comfortable in his presence, more so than anyone else she’d known.

Zahara had a deep distrust of people in general and men in particular. Betrayed at every turn. With Alexander, she felt safe for the first time in her life. Not so much with her physical self, she could easily defend herself, but with her emotional well-being. She watched as they passed several homes that ran along the road, she noted they were heading west, toward Highway 19 West. She leaned her head against the window and watched as the road sped by. She wondered why the agency was so hot and heavy to get Xander back and she wondered if they knew she’d not followed orders in Vegas? She hoped it wasn’t to retire him, she’d not want to be party to that. She’d never been called to retire an agent, she hoped she never would, since she just might not do it. That would mean she’d have to disappear. She was a faithful employee, to a point. Like men, she didn’t trust her government either. She trusted in no one but herself. That, she knew, would keep her alive.

They turned onto the highway and she sat up straighter. She saw several cars abandoned. She looked over at Xander, who seemed to be in his own thoughts.

“Hey, something seem a bit strange to you?” she asked.

“Huh? What? What’d ya mean?” he asked, looking over at her. She smiled, with the ball cap on, dark sunglasses and dark beard, Xander looked like a serial killer. She almost laughed out loud. He was a killer.

“Those cars we just passed. Someone just left them half in the road. The doors of two of them were just standing open.”

“I don’t know, didn’t notice. Maybe they’d been out partying and just stopped and passed out?” He shrugged.

“Maybe.”

“Hey, there’s a gun show in Huntsville. You wanna maybe swing by there before we head up north?”

“Oh, you know my heart.” she said grinning and clapped her hands excitedly.

“I normally hit those on the way to my place in the woods, but didn’t this time. So, I figured, maybe we could do it before we head north.”

“Sure, that’s great. Oddly enough, I’ve never been to a gun show. I usually get my gear from the Dark Net or Uncle Sam. Hey, look out, there’s another vehicle in the road. Damnit. It’s a delivery truck,” Zahara said and her body leaned as Xander pulled his truck to the left, avoiding the delivery truck that was sitting in the road. He slowed down and they both looked inside. Slumped in the seat was a body. There was blood that ran down the legs and pooled on the ground. Xander stopped his truck and pulled his Glock. Zahara pulled her Sig Sauer and both got out cautiously.

Ž

Agent Vector moved his vehicle through traffic, a cigarette hanging from his lip. To say he was angry was an understatement. He’d been on the road for over a week, trying to hunt down Agent Zed. He had bounced from the West Coast over to Vegas and she was nowhere to be found. He was heading back to D.C. when he got the call to head to Huntsville. He wished he could have flown, but with all the hardware he carried, it just wasn’t feasible and why Huntsville? He knew Zahara, knew of her work and admired her from afar. He had met her a few times in briefings but he’d not worked with her. He knew of her proclivities toward vigilantism with regard to predators. However, the powers that be were not as understanding and with the recent deaths of two long distance rig drivers, Zahara Demir’s number had come up, or at least that is what he assumed. One never knew with upper management.

Ethan Moreno was a veteran assassin, having spent years in the field, but he’d never been called upon to take out one of his own. And to retire an agent for so trivial a motive, Ethan was not happy. He didn’t know the real reason and he more than likely never would. None of them were ever given the whole picture, but he