Wet Honey

Writing Battle: Autumn 2024 entry.

2024

Entry for Writing Battle: Autumn 2024

Genre: Espionage
Setting: Swamp
Character: Assassin
1618 Words.

She knew I hated getting wet.

It was pouring by the time I got to the coordinates. The sign for the public entrance was barely hanging on by a literal thread as it flailed around in the wind, it’s lettering mostly worn off. Whatever signage warning trespassers to not trespass was long gone. The path, or what was left of it, bloated from the rain as mud sludged around, before quickly dipping into the swamp proper. One car was parked nearby. One I recognized.

Divine Waters Swamp was more of a lake during the rainy season. A big, grimy, murky, stupid goddamn stinky lake with a never-ending supply of mosquitoes’ fat from the years of ICEPICK agents training on these grounds. We called it the “Ogre’s Lair” back in the day. I still had nightmares about all the swamp juice I swallowed over the months training in the muck. Everyone joked that ICEPICK agents were all at least 20% swamp brine.

I trudged through the muck, almost feeling the millions of bacteria and parasites crawling around my legs attempting to leech off me. Every step made an unpleasant squelch as my boots started filling up. The smell of rain dampened the odor of rotting trees, vines, and salt water. All things considered, pretty much exactly how I remembered it twenty-some-odd years ago.

God dammit, I hated getting wet. She knew I hated getting wet.

It wasn’t long until I made my way through the grime and into the old stomping grounds. Two barracks, a squat watch tower, and a small bunker, all covered in swamp detritus. The bunker had sunk halfway down with the door rusted open, flooding the interior. I wondered how much of the underground complex was flooded too. I was doubtful that the past decade of neglect kept much intact.

“The alligators didn’t give you any trouble, did they?”

My ears pricked towards her voice before slowly turning towards her. She sat on a bench with umbrella in hand. A lamp above desperately tried to keep itself on, emanating a soft yellow glow that gently laid itself over her like a felt quilt. She wore a thick, fur coat straight out of a French noir film. She could never help herself when she had the opportunity to pay homage to the classics and show off. I could never understand how she managed to keep herself clean no matter where she was. Her right hand was slotted firmly in her coat pocket, no doubt thumbing a pistol. Between the two of us she was the better shot by a mile. Next to her sat a small, silver briefcase.

“There’re alligators? I thought they were cleared out when this place was built?”

She tittered in the high-pitched, nasally way she always did when she couldn’t decide if I was being cute or stupid, “This place’s been abandoned for years, Benjy. The local wildlife is going to squeeze its way back in eventually,” she let out a reminiscing sigh, “Situational awareness was never your strong suit. You never did have a good third-eye for sensing danger.”

“Yeah. I guess you’d know.”

Whatever she was about to say next, that pushed it back down her throat.

“You don’t get to call me Benjy anymore.” My stomach churned as I said that. I loved that little pet-name. I loved the way she yelled it across the house when she needed help with groceries. I loved the way she laughed it while listening to the stories of the stupid things I did as a kid. I loved the way she shouted it in anger when I forgot something important. I loved the way she moaned it during sex. I would have given anything for her to say it again.

We stayed there for a moment, waiting for the rain to wash away the memories.

“Just get over here and grab what you’re here for.”

“You know I should kill you, right? The bounty on your head is so high I could retire, pay off all the hitmen that would come after me, and still have plenty to spare.”

She rolled her eyes, “We both know nobody’s claiming that bounty any time soon. Especially not you.” A low rumble of thunder in the distance meandered it’s way to us making her flinch just a bit. “Look, I can’t stay here for long, so just take your goodie bag and go. I know how much you hate getting wet.”

“Was I just a honeypot? Was that all I was?” She pursed her lips in the way she did when she didn’t know what to say. She was rattled by the question, but not unprepared for it. “So many times I carried you through hell, through the muck and blood and dirt, doing everything I could to keep you together in one piece. And it just…we just…was it real? Was it for nothing? How many people did we kill protecting each other? What did I bleed for?”

With a frustrated grunt, she tossed the silver briefcase towards me. It landed with an amusing plop. “Just take the damn blueprints already and give them to the nerds at ICEPICK, they’ll know what to do with it. I don’t have the time nor the patience to answer whatever dumb questions you have about our…time together.” Her voice betrayed her and squeaked at the last moment.

I bit the inside of my cheek, holding .myself back. I knew it was pointless to go down this road. Giving her one last look, I gingerly picked up the briefcase, wiping away as much of the mud as I could. “How do I know you’re not going to kill me when I walk away?”

“I’ve had fifteen years to kill you, Benjy. Twenty if you count our time dating.” She spat out those words before she could think, almost offended at the notion, before pausing. A touch of regret pricked at her eyes before her face softened, “If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.” I saw a glimmer in her eyes. It wasn’t from the rain.

With a huff she popped herself off the bench and opened her umbrella in a single, elegant motion. “I’ll be leaving now. Alive. It’s your decision whether you do to.”

“I wasn’t planning on stopping you.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” She motioned behind her towards a particularly dense patch of slimy logs. I could barely make out the pinpoint of a laser sight.

Goddammit Miller.

“Goddammit Miller. I told you not to follow me.”

“I don’t remember that? Must have told a different Miller.” Miller shouted over the rain.

She looked at me with an amused grin before turning around to walk away, but stopped mid stride. I could see the gears in her mind turn and her lips purse.

“You know, you’ve got a real shitty third eye, but you’ve got two real good ones socketed in that handsome noggin of yours. Don’t be afraid to trust them.”

I could barely make out the slightest dimpling in her cheeks and her nose scrunching up before wiping it off just as quickly. I couldn’t help but feel a sudden swell of pride, despite everything. She always made that face after a particularly vigorous session.

At least one of us was having fun.

When she was completely out of sight, Miller popped out of the shadows and placed his hand on my shoulder. He was wearing his wetsuit, custom-made for his six-foot five-inch frame and the myriads of clandestine recon missions he was assigned. It made him look like a giant, hairless cat, but damn if he wasn’t good at his job despite it all. He loved the damn thing and wore it every chance he had.

Could never get past her though.

“Hey Miller?”

“Yeah?”

“Be honest with me.”

“Always.”

“Am I crazy for thinking there’s a chance to salvage us?”

“Hmm,” Miller tossed the thought I’m his head for a bit, “Hard to say. If it turned out Stephanie was doing to me what she did to you…fuck, I can’t say one way or the other.” Miller took out a cigarette he always had at the ready and placed it in his mouth unlit. It was his way of quitting smoking, “A part of me is kind of jealous, though. I only got ten or so years with my girl before she died. I’d give anything to see her again but…would I want ten more years for a knife in the back after?”

“Well? Would you?”

Miller stood there, slowly chewing his unlit cigarette. “I definitely wouldn’t not consider it.”

We stood there for a little while longer, the sound of Miller’s chewing filling the gap. When the cigarette was a soggy, flimsy stick he spat it out. “C’mon, Portman’s going to throw a fit if he finds out about my ‘unauthorized’ use of ICEPICK assets. I’ll take the briefcase and wait for you by the entrance. Be there in ten or I’m going to have to leave without you. A Grayhound to the nearest ICEPICK safehouse is sixteen hours away.”

Miller turned and started his trek back, leaving me alone. I stood in the rain for a few more moments, quietly listening to the sounds of the swamp before slowly trekking my way back through the swamp, letting myself feel the water pelt my scalp, meditating on the stochastic rhythm of the raindrops. It took about thirty minutes to get back to the entrance. Miller stood there, patiently waiting with a cigarette in his mouth.

I was starting to think it wasn’t getting wet that I hated. What I really hated was being left high and dry.

Alone.