Grave Games: A Collection Of Riveting Suspense Thrillers

by James Hunt

  “We found another way in… I think,” she said into the radio. “A fire escape.”

  “Then get in quick,” Burke said. “The guards are getting suspicious. If I take a shot now, everything changes.”

  She looked around and saw another door with a faded exit sign above it. The door was closed and they now faced the same predicament as before—the potential of setting off an alarm. Next to the door, however, was an air conditioning unit connected to an air vent. The Outlaws filed onto the railing with barely enough room to stand.

  Tara moved to the door, prepared to open it.

  “Wait!” Angela said, holding out her hand. She held the radio close for a status. “What’s the latest, Hendrickson?”

  His voice came through, panicky and quiet. “We’re stuck. They’re flashing lights all around us. Whatever you have to do, do it fast.”

  “10-4,” she said, clipping the radio back on her vest. She raised her head and could hear the roof guards, who were within ear shot, talking to each other in Arabic. She grabbed Axel’s meaty arm and pointed to the air vent. “Can you get us in there?”

  He turned and glanced at the vent with uncertainty. “I might. We’ve just got to open the duct and crawl in. It’s not going to be pretty though.”

  “That’s fine. Just give it a shot,” she said. Axel pushed his way over to the a/c unit and got to work with his tools, unscrewing the bolts attaching the unit to the air duct. Tara felt around the door, trying to listen inside. She looked poised to give it a shot when Angela stepped forward to remind her that they had to wait. Waiting, it seemed, was the last thing they wanted to do.

  “Our guys are sitting ducks out there,” Tara said. “This building looks at least a hundred years old. I’d say the fire alarm is very unlikely.”

  “Not worth the risk,” Angela said. “We’ll consider it once it’s our only option.”

  Axel managed to disconnect the main duct from the unit. The vent inside looked just large enough for them to crawl through, Angela hoped. Axel gave it a shot, climbing halfway in, but he could barely fit. He lowered himself out, covered in dirt and debris, and looked at Angela. “I don’t know about this. What if we get stuck?”

  Angela passed the other Outlaws and went straight to the vent. “I’ll go first. Give me a minute to check it out.”

  “If you say so,” Axel said. He pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and handed it to her. “Hope this helps.”

  “It will,” she said, taking the light. She lifted herself into the vent as Axel helped push her in. It was dark and confining, like a tomb. She crawled inside, pushing herself along the dirty aluminum surface with her rifle knocking the top of the duct and the flashlight in her hand lighting the way. The noise was concerning enough, but she pushed on, breathing heavily and feeling the constricting closure of the tight space pushing down on her. She came to a corner of the vent and turned her head back to see Axel’s face at the end, waiting.

  “It’s good,” she said softly, as her voice carried. “We can fit up to here. Come on.”

  Axel hoisted Tara inside first. Then came the others. With the Outlaws behind her, Angela went left and continued to crawl toward a vent about fifty feet ahead of her. It was a welcome sight. She pushed herself harder and could hear the others crawling behind, grunting and trying their best not to make too much noise. As she reached the vent, deeply relieved, she asked Tara for Axel’s multi-tool.

  He passed it down the line and it reached her hands. Before cutting the vent open, she peeked through, trying to see any movements while listening for the slightest sound. Beyond the vent, all she could see was darkness. It was good enough. She got to work, cutting the vent at its sides, and then gently pushed it out, lowering it to the ground. She pulled herself out with one strong push and fell carefully onto some cross-steel railing. They were on some kind of second-story platform.

  She moved aside as the remaining Outlaws spilled out of the vent like an assembly line. “We’re in,” she said excitedly into the radio. “Conducting a search of the area now.”

  “Excellent,” Burke said. “I’ve got to keep my eyes on this bunch on the roof. Godspeed.”

  “We can’t go anywhere,” Hendrickson said, cutting in. “They turned their lights off, but there’s no doubt that their attention is on us.”

  The situation was clear enough. Their strategy had been effective, but Angela and her team were clearly alone. She felt the weight of that realization like nothing she’d felt before. The Outlaws stayed low and took positions around the railing. Angela held her binos up to explore further. Below them seemed to be a storage room. There were crates and boxes, but not one militant was in sight. Ahead was a staircase leading down. She stood up and signaled the team forward. “We’re clear. Let’s get out of here.”

  They carefully crept down the stairs and reached the bottom to find another door. It wasn’t an emergency exit and there were no signs of wires or explosives. They had made it this far, and Angela felt that they were very close to something. Tara pushed forward and went to the door. Angela held her rifle up and nodded as Tara slowly pushed the door bar and opened the door with the utmost care. Angela snuck out, low to the ground as her team followed behind her. Her movements felt instinctual, as though all her former military and border patrol training had reached its zenith.

  She moved forward, down a darkened hall where she could see a glimmer of light at the end. They continued their pursuit without a word, moving together as a single interlinked unit. Angela stopped at the end of the hall and peeked around the corner. They had reached the main floor, and what she saw stunned her. In addition to numerous crates and a group of armed militants loading military vehicles, she could see a cargo truck that nearly took up half the floor.

  She signaled her team to wait and held her binos up to get a closer look at some activity happening near the truck. There were spotlights set up next to a table with laptops. A video camera rested on a tri-pod, its red light flashing. Several militants stood around watching the proceedings.

  In the center of it all stood a tall, lanky man in a white robe, speaking to the camera with a black ISIS flag hanging from the truck behind him. She counted about fifteen militants in all. Some were spread out and working. Everyone was occupied and no one, it seemed, was aware of their presence. Angela knew a good opportunity when she saw it.

  “We’re on the main floor. The terrorists are in sight. Burke, we’re moving forward, and when I give you the signal, go ahead and take out the guards. Hendrickson. Once that happens, your team moves forward.”

  At first there was a pause as though Burke and Hendrickson were surprised they had made it in so quickly.

  “Got it,” Burke said. “Be careful. Don’t try to be a hero.”

  “Too late for that,” Hendrickson said with a laugh. “We’ll move in as soon as we can.”

  “Thanks,” Angela said. She clipped the radio back onto her vest and looked to her team, their faces pumped up and eager with anticipation. “We’re going to move in, but we have to be smart. We can’t be seen, until I’ve got Asgar in my sights. Take out any militants in our way as quietly as you can.”

  The team nodded in understanding. Angela turned back to the main floor and moved forward slowly with her rifle aimed. They followed as she moved from crate to crate. A few men from the team split up and tackled three militants, slicing their throats, barely letting them get out a gasp.

  Angela moved to the next crate, fifty feet from the video shoot. There was no doubt in her mind that Asgar was recording his final message to the world and that he was prepared to detonate the bomb as soon as he wrapped it up. She walked toward the men as her team split in a flank.

  All the militants’ backs were turned to them, and as she got closer, Asgar’s words came into earshot. “It is an honor to bring the caliphate of the Islamic State unto our enemy, Allah be praised. For centuries you have fought us, and now we deliver this next attack in the name of Islam, the Islamic Stat
e, the Prophet Mohammed, and our dear leader, Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi. In the name of Allah, the merciful, we send you where you belong, into the fires of hell for all eternity.”

  Angela stepped forward and into view as Asgar’s eyes widened. He froze upon seeing her. His mouth closed as his words ended. The militants looked on, confused and wondering why he had stopped talking. His arm then reached into the pocket of his robe.

  “Don’t even think about it, Asgar!” Angela shouted.

  The stunned militants swung around, gripping their rifles.

  “Freeze!” Axel shouted.

  “Hands up!” Tara added.

  The militants were at an obvious disadvantage, having been taken by surprise.

  “Let me see your hands, Asgar!” Angela shouted. She then fired a warning shot at his feet, the blast echoing through the warehouse. Asgar threw his hands into the air. Everything grew silent.

  “What are you waiting for?” Axel asked Angela. “Take him out already.”

  “Not yet,” Angela said defiantly, and took another step forward. She kept her eyes locked on him, ready to fire if he made the slightest move. He squinted through the spotlights shining on him and then smiled as though he recognized her.

  “You’re the border agent. Yes. I recognize you. We cut off your husband’s head.” His smile widened as his nervous fighters kept their hands in the air. “Do you think I’m not prepared to die right this moment?”

  “You’re going to die,” Angela reassured him. “But before you do, I just want you to know that you failed.” She spoke quickly into the radio with her eyes on Asgar. “Burke. Take the shot.”

  A moment later they could hear a series of gunshots from outside followed by thuds on the roof above. “Go ahead and move in Hendrickson.” She held her rifle with both hands, steady and prepared to end Asgar’s reign of terror with one single shot. However, she found herself hesitating. It seemed too easy. And his information could prove vital in the fight against ISIS. But then she thought of Doug.

  Asgar’s eyes shifted upward. He was communicating with someone. “Six o’clock!” Angela shouted.

  Half of the Outlaws swung around and looked up a stairwell where a militant was taking aim at them. Angela tiled her head to the side and recognized the monstrously large man. It was Asgar’s personal guard, Bosra. Gunfire erupted as the Outlaws blasted holes through him, sending chunks of flesh into the air. His large body fell over the railing, and he beat his arms like wings, until his head hit the floor and cracked opened on the cement.

  Angela narrowed her eyes at Asgar, aiming at him through her front sight. “It’s over,” she said.

  “It’s never over,” Asgar replied. “There are more of us than you can imagine.”

  Suddenly the doors at the front burst open and Hendrickson’s team charged inside, surrounding Asgar and his terrified militants.

  “And your numbers will dwindle,” Angela said. “Starting with you.”

  A moment of realization seemed to sweep through Asgar. His right hand dropped and he went right for his pocket again. She squeezed the trigger gently and fired a round right into his head. His body dropped to the floor, on camera. And everything went silent. Hendrickson looked around completely overwhelmed.

  Angela lowered her gun as the silence continued. The Outlaws suddenly jumped into action and rushed the remaining militants, apprehending them forcefully and mercilessly. Angela kept her eyes on Asgar’s motionless body. The threat was over. For now.

  Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story!

  Writing has always been a passion of mine and it’s incredibly gratifying and rewarding whenever you give me an opportunity to let you escape from your everyday surroundings and entertain the world that is your imagination.

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  Again, thank you so much for letting me into your world. I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I did writing it!

  Take care,

  James Hunt