by J. F. Holmes
We bailed out of that stairwell before we hit the entrance to the roof, moving into the third floor and down a narrow hallway. Ziv stayed to guard the door as we flowed in, and we hurried down a hallway, putting a man at each of the two closed apartment doors to guard them.
The third apartment was at the end of the hallway, door standing slightly ajar. There was trash and footprints in the dust; it looked like the one our attackers might have been using. Behind me I heard Ziv open up, firing a few shots through the doorway to the roof to discourage anyone coming down. Mutual cursing and random shots followed from the roof.
I kicked the door, hard, and it flew open to reveal a large studio apartment, littered with MRE wrappers and other trash. We flowed in, Cahill and I scanning for targets, and saw nothing. He motioned to the front window, and we crept forward. It was dirty and dusty, but as we got closer, I could see the silhouette of three people on the roof across from us, shooting down toward the front of the building we were in, including one with what looked like a 240B machine gun. Even as we watched, the 240 jammed again, and the gunner sat trying to work the bolt.
Pointing right, meaning for Cahill to take the right-most target, I whistled for someone to come up, and Elam joined us. I pointed left for him, said, “On three!” and lined up the red dot on the machine gunner’s face just as he flipped open the tray to load another belt. “One, two, THREE!” and each of us fired, once to shatter the glass, then once more within a second at the people across the roof.
My target’s body slowly started to fall forward over the lip of the roof, carrying the gun with it. I fired again, probably a wasted shot since he was going to splatter anyway, and shifted target, looking to see if anyone else survived. Cahill’s target had disappeared, and the other slumped over the parapet, blood running profusely down her long blonde hair, no longer tucked under a helmet.
Cahill took out a stun grenade, pulled the pin, leaned out the window and flipped it up onto the roof over our head. We heard feet pounding, then the flat CRACK. He did the same with a frag, and that one went off with a muffled BANG.
At the first one, Ziv charged up the stairs, hammering shots through the doorway, followed by Badger. There was an exchange of gunfire and then, over the squad radio, “All clear! Roof on other side is clear also.”
“We blew the shit out of the ground floor with the fifty and saw someone hauling ass away down an alley next door. I think they split!” called Vasquez, sounding out of breath.
“Do you think the building on the other side has anyone in it?” asked Cahill, but I didn’t answer him. I was tired as hell and couldn’t process, jittery from what we just went though. He looked at me, then turned away. Maybe he saw the condition I was in, but he didn’t look much better.
“This is Cahill, meet us down at the truck, we can haul as back the way we came and find another route,” he said over the radio, and we moved back to the stairs. If anyone was in the rest of the building, they had enough sense to stay hidden.
We climbed into the truck, Ziv and Elam scanning the street as we backed it out and made a U turn, going back the way we came. One of the tires had been blown out by gunfire, and the gas tank leaked diesel fuel in a puddle, but we didn’t have far to go. As we left, shots erupted from behind us, and I felt a tremendous hammer blow to my shoulder. At the same time, pain zipped through me, like someone had stabbed me with a white-hot poker. I yelled and tried to turn back to return fire. Above me the fifty hammered, and Badger yelled, “GOT HIM!”
Doc Swan crawled over the seat to catch me as I slumped, numbness growing, “NICK’S BEEN HIT! STOP THE TRUCK!”
Feeling up under my armor, my hand came away with only a little blood. “I’m OK, I’m OK, just get to the lab!” I said to Jonas, pushing Doc’s hand away from me. “DAMMNIT! I said I’m OK, just give me a compress!”
She ripped one out and I shoved it under my armor, trying to hold onto the truck with my other hand as we twisted and turned through the base. We pulled up in front of a battered sign that said “HIV research program” or something like that. It was getting hard to focus.
“Elam, take Jonas and get the generator started. It’s probably around back. Cahill, Badger, Ziv, on me. Let’s clear this place. Doc, Vasquez, reporter guy, carry Brit right behind us.” I was running on nothing but adrenaline now, so close to our goal.
Inside the lobby was equipment that looked to be in decent shape, a field generator with power cords leading downstairs. This would have been from after the first plague when they were trying to research a cure.
The dust on the floor was untouched, years of it having accumulated and blown in through the door. “This place is empty!” said Cahill.
“Lab should be…” I tried to say, but I was feeling lightheaded, and cold.
“Third subbasement,” finished Ziv, as the others came hustling in with Brit in the body bag. She was twisting and howling, making it hard to carry her.
“The chopper should be here any minute,” said Badger. “Do we wait?”
Doc came over to me and sat me down, pulling at my armor. “Holy shit, Nick, you’re hit pretty damn bad! GET MY aide bag, NOW!” she yelled.
The world swam before me, bright spots dancing with dark clouds. “NO!” I yelled desperately, “get her down to the lab! That’s a goddamned order!”
I heard the blades of a helo thundering outside, the whoosh – BANG of an RPG, gunfire, and yells. A minigun opened up, the deep ripping sound cutting through the haze, and several explosions sounded, accompanied by bright flashes. A turbine engine whining in protest, yells and screams, and black smoke through the sunlight.
“Hey brother, where are you going?” asked Doc Hamilton. The ex-biker stood there in front of me, oblivious to the noises of combat. He wore his scout uniform, and over it his leather motorcycle club colors. It had been almost seven years since I had seen him, and my hazy mind wondered if he had come on the chopper with the scientists. Where had he been all this time?
“Hey Doc.” I said. “Gotta save Brit.”
Behind him stood Jonesy, sparkling with life and humor. My old teammate smiled a huge grin and held out his hand to help me up. “Lazy-ass white boy, always sitting down on the job.”
“I think she’s going to be OK, Sarge,” said Specialist Mya, aide bag slung around her shoulder. “Maybe you should just come with us.”
“Where are we going? Another mission?” I was so tired, and so confused, I couldn’t think.
“You could say that,” said Ahmed, leaning on his rifle, grin showing through his bushy beard. “We just need you to lead the way, if you want.”
“But I can’t go anywhere without Brit!” I protested weakly.
“She’ll be along eventually, as Allah wills it, but I think God will see it that way,” he answered me.
“Dad?” asked a young girl, maybe eleven years old, with bright blonde hair and a beautiful smile. “Mom’s waiting, and she says we have a lot to talk about. And I can’t wait to meet my stepmom!” Behind her stood her mother, Jane, with a ahdn on her shoulder and that beautiful smile on her face.
“Paige? But you’re just a baby…” I trailed off, reality hitting me. Suddenly I felt full of energy, full of life.
The sun was shining, bright and golden, and there were many people there, my friends and family. I stepped outside to meet them.
Chapter 328
The needle in my chest was like fire, and I convulsed on the floor of the helo, eyes flying wide open. Then the pain from my shoulder answered it, and I fell back, trying feebly to pull at the oxygen mask across my face.
Doc Swan’s face moved into view, and the face of another, a dark-skinned man in fatigues. “I think that did it,” he said. “Heartbeat is strong; keep putting plasma into him, shit keeps leaking from that shoulder. Internal bleeding, this guy is pretty fucked up. Call the CASH and have a trauma team waiting.”
I turned my head slightly, and as the blackness reached out to take me again, I saw, strappe
d on another stretcher, tightly bound, Brit. Her mouth was taped shut, and an IV ran down into her exposed arm. I started to fall away just as she opened her eyes. The right eye, damaged by Doctor Morano, was a milky white. Her left eye was icy, cold, sparkling blue.
I let the darkness take me where it would.
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