Page 71 of Covert Mission
Justice pats my shoulder. “We are now. This is your man. Ignore the blood. He’s called Beast because he’s freakishly strong.”
“Really?” the man asks in heavily accented English.
“I am.”
“Then hurry up and do this then you come with me. I need help right now.”
After we lever the heavy section of roof up, he guides me away from the others, taking me to a monstrous stone. “This. Can you move this?”
It’s the size of a gas pump turned on its side.
I climb around it to inspect the angles of the rock. The thing is huge. I can’t even begin to guess the weight. But I’ve lifted some really heavy shit. Including a car off of a friend when the jack collapsed.
“I’ll try. Which way does it need to go?”
He motions to the left with his hand. “Ten centimeters, just this end of it needs to move.”
“Alright.”
The man mutters a prayer. He pushes a thin piece of metal into a crack beneath the rock. “You move. I’ll drop my equipment into the hole.”
I get into position as I get my head right. “I think this is the best angle.”
He agrees.
I wrap my arms around one end of the big rock. I take some fast breaths to ramp my nervous system. “Where the hell did this thing come from? Surely, it wasn’t part of the building.”
“It fell down the hill.”
That explains a lot. Let’s just hope there aren’t any more up there waiting to tumble down. We’d all be tossed like human bowling pins.
I test my grip. “Let’s get it the fuck out of the way. Ready, we go on one.”
Sweat trickles in my eyes, my arm hurts like a motherfucker. The rock grates right on my cut. I tune it all out and concentrate on finding that place inside me where the rage lives.
“Three. Two. One.”
I pour all of myself into the effort.
The boulder lifts a small amount and seems to teeter. I leverage all my strength, pushing hard with my quads. Contracting my abs. Flexing my back. “Come on!”
My legs burn with strain. My whole body shakes.
The other man is cheering as he tries to help. “Yes! Yes! A little more.”
I picture my father’s ugly face and find the last bit of rage-filled bloodthirst that I need.
The rock moves the last distance. It settles into a stable place. I fall forward onto my knees.
The man is crying tears of joy. His arms wrap around my shoulders. “You did it! My friend, you are the strongest man I’ve ever met.”
My arms are shaking as I pat his back. I drop back onto my heels. Blood is smeared on the rock.
I think we made our goal if the look on his face is any indication.
“You good?”
He’s talking rapidly on a radio in a language that I don’t speak. Italian, I think. But I’m shot. Who knows. hHe could be speaking English and I wouldn’t be able to put the words together.