One of the lights was weaving, a shadow appearing behind it. My gun moved back toward him, but I tripped on some debris, sprawling forward, jerking the trigger as I went, supersonic lead filling the empty air where I’d just been. The other light swung upward, briefly illuminating the bloody ceiling as the man holding it went down. The Fat Man grunted under the impacts as Jill shot him again, and finally he and the heavy machine gun disappeared behind the truck.
There was only one weapon light shining now, swinging wildly toward Jill. We fired at the same time. The bulb shattered.
The room went dark
I gasped for breath as the filthy dust stirred. My good ear was ringing from the gunfire, but above that I could hear a man crying and the sounds of someone breathing froth through a torn-open chest.
This time the flashlight piercing the darkness was mounted to my gun. “Jill!” I shouted. I only activated the light for a split second to find my way, then it was back out to avoid being a target and I was moving to the truck and the last place I’d seen her.
“Lorenzo!” she hissed at me. “Over here.”
I found her in the dark, kneeling behind some rusted junk. The empty MP5 had been tossed, and she had a pistol in her hands. She flinched as my hand touched her shoulder, but at least she didn’t shoot me.
“Are you okay?” I whispered, crouching beside her. I didn’t know who was still alive in the garage.
“I’m okay.” She gestured at the Fat Man, his massive, sprawled, white-clad form standing out in the dark. “But he’s not. Shot him like ten times.”
I didn’t know why, but I hugged her then, held her tight, my face pressed into her soft neck, her dark, blood matted-hair pressed against my cheek. That lasted for a few seconds as there was more high-powered rifle fire nearby, several back and forth volleys. The others were still fighting.
Back to business . . .
“Did you see which way Eddie went?”
“The one that looked like he came from an episode of I Love the Eighties, with the poodle?” I nodded, somehow in the dark she could tell. She pointed out the large front door. “He headed for those old buildings.”
I couldn’t let him get away. I stood, dropped my partially expended magazine, and drew a new one from my vest. “Head for the hills to the west. I have a friend out there. He’ll get you out of here.”
“I’m coming with you,” she answered defiantly.
“This isn’t a democracy. You’re—” Something stirred behind me, gliding into the garage, a shape with a weapon. I turned, pulling the rifle to my shoulder. The man was in my sights, but I knew I was too late.
We both froze. Guns raised, death only a tiny bit of pressure on a trigger away.
“Valentine,” I acknowledged, relieved, and lowered my carbine.
Valentine’s FAL hovered on me for just a fraction of a second. That son of a bitch, I thought. He’s actually thinking it over. I glared at him for an instant, daring him to pull the trigger. His expression changed almost imperceptibly and he lowered his weapon. “Is Jill okay?”
Before I could answer, Reaper swept into the room, trench coat billowing like something out of a bad vampire movie. Man, I hated that stupid coat. He grinned when he saw us. “I’m glad to see you guys. I’ve been trying to get you on the radio. Bob says that that van full of SWAT dudes has turned around and is on its way back. We’ve got to go.” Reaper shone his light around the room, seeing the multiple bodies and blood still dripping from the ceiling. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”
Valentine was all business. He quickly scanned the dead. No quips. No jokes. Only: “Where’s Gordon?”
“He went that way.” I nodded toward the ghost town.
“Then let’s go.”
VALENTINE
I turned to leave, but paused. I looked back at my . . . companions? I don’t suppose we were friends. Standing close to Lorenzo was Jill, a gun in hand, her hair a mess, blood-stains on her pink jumper.
“You alright, darlin’?” I asked of Jill. She nodded at me but said nothing. She was hovering close to Lorenzo. I managed half a smile for her, then put my game face back on. Gordon was out there somewhere, and he wasn’t getting away.
“Val, what’s your status?” Hawk asked over the radio.
“Cover the entrance. I’m coming out.”
“What’s the plan?” Reaper asked.
What is it with these people and their stupid plans? A plan is just a list of things that don’t happen after the first shot is fired, and the situation had already gone straight to hell. “Gordon’s back there somewhere,” I said, gesturing to the door. “Igoing to find him and kill him.” My blood was running cold.
“That’s it?” Jill asked, speaking up at last. “You don’t know how many of them there are! You’re going to get yourself killed!”
“The van full of SWAT guys is coming back,” Reaper said again.
“This is gonna get interesting.” I moved forward and opened the door. It was mostly dark outside now, and only the last bit of sun crept over the hill to illuminate the interior of the long-abandoned prison camp. There was a row of buildings along each side of a gravel road. Barracks, mostly, but utility buildings, a mess hall, things like that. The tall fence that had once surrounded the place was falling down, and several of the structures had been vandalized.
I moved out the door. Lorenzo stepped out behind me, with Reaper behind him. He made Jill stay inside. Good, I thought. I didn’t want her to get hurt, especially after all this.
I moved to my right, edging towards the corner of the building. It was shadowed here, and I was thankful for that. The next building over didn’t have any windows facing my position, but others did, and I was exposed.
Hawk came over the radio. “Val, I’m moving up on you. Cover me.”
I leaned around the corner. The road that led into the camp was lit up by the headlights of the van. It was rapidly approaching our position, leaving a long dust cloud behind it.
“You see the van?” Lorenzo asked. He was now right behind me.
“Got it,” I said.
“We should move over there,” he said, pointing to the next building. “Find some cover and light ‘em up as they come out. We—”
His voice was cut off by the loud bark of my carbine. He hissed an obscenity, but then opened fire as well. Hawk joined him an instant later. I couldn’t see anything but the dark mass of the van beyond the blinding headlights, but that was enough. The glowing red reticle of my scope was centered on it, and I let go. I fired as rapidly as I could, my rounds tearing into the van, my face illuminated briefly by each muzzle flash. The van skidded to its right and crashed into the far corner of a building. My bolt locked back, and my rifle was empty. I looked back at Lorenzo as he dropped the magazine out of his carbine.
“Let’s go. I couldn’t have gotten them all.”
LORENZO
Valentine ejected the empty magazine from his rifle, flinging it away from him as he rocked it out, and locked a new one in place. The bolt flew forward with a clang.
“Let’s get them,” Jill said. I turned. She was right behind me, one of Eddie’s goon’s G36 carbines in her hands. Before I could even tell her to go back, she snapped, “Shut up, Lorenzo, I’m coming.” Her tone suggested that there wouldn’t be any arguing.
Valentine grinned at me. Asshole. I shook my head while walking quickly toward the smoking wreck. “Stay low. Hawk, cover us. Valentine and Reaper, flank right. Jill, stay behind me. That little pad on the front grip activates your flashlight. Leave it off until—”
“I’m not retarded. I can use a stupid light. Come on already,” she hissed. “Gordon’s going to get away.”
Fair enough.
There was no discernible movement around the van. Steam was rising from the smashed-open radiator. I sprinted the last few feet and stuck my muzzle through the driver’s side window just as Valentine threw open the rear doors. The driver was dead, his face mashed against the w
heel, blood leaking from his ear. The passenger’s brains were sliding down the dash. The back was empty, but there was some blood. The others must have bailed out.
There was a raised wooden walkway on both sides of the rectangular barracks. Reaper’s boots echoed hollowly on the wooden planks as he walked toward the open doorway. Suddenly, he and Valentine both crouched down. I stood there stupidly for an instant before realizing that they were still in communication with Bob. I grabbed Jill by the wrist and pulled her down beside the van.
A supersonic crack whistled overhead, and someone screamed inside the darkened barracks. Reaper threw himself flat as the SWAT team inside fired wildly through the plank walls in response. Valentine disappeared in a flash, moving to the building’s corner. Jill and I were in the shadows, and the SWAT guys were firing at nothing.
“Reaper, stay down!” I had one frag grenade left. I pulled it from its pouch, yanked the pin, and chucked it through the barracks window. A few seconds later, the barracks shook and bits of jagged metal hummed through the air, seeking flesh.
“Now!” I shouted. Reaper popped up, turned on his Surefire light, and leaned across the barrack’s window. The stubby 12 gauge belched fire three quick times. You didn’t need to be a good shot at conversational distance. Off to the side came the thunderous crack of Valentine’s .308.
“Clear!” he shouted.
“Scratch two more assholes,” Reaper responded.
But how many did that leave? I sprinted toward the barracks, vaulted over the railing, and landed beside Reaper. Hawk was running up behind us. The railing next to my head made a hollow thunk noise as a bullet smashed into it. I pressed tighter against the wall. Jill was still prone by the van. “Everybody down! That came from the water tower!”
“Bob, sniper on the water tower. Take him out,” Valentine ordered as he walked calmly into the barracks. “Hey, Lorenzo. We’ve got to keep moving.”
I scanned the town. There were only intermittent patches of amber lighting, and most of the ramshackle buildings were deadly ambushes waiting to happen. I pulled out my night-vision monocular, pressed it to my eye, and scanned around the corner.
Through the NVD I could see a man with a rifle standing at the top of the water tower’s ladder. There was another crack, and the man toppled from his perch, fell two stories, and landed lifelessly in a cloud of dust. My brother was a damn fine shot.
Hawk clambered up the steps and took cover next to me. “Val, if that G-man’s running from you, he’s probably holed up in that last big building.” It made sense, it was the easternmost position they could fall back to. To get back to their vehicles they would have to either fight past us through the southern row of buildings, or they’d have to try to cross back between the buildings on the north side. Each time they left cover, we could engage them, and to reach a car they’d be visible to Bob. Holing up to wait for reinforcements would be the smart thing to do.
“The mess hall? I’m on it. Come on.” He disappeared into the shadows of the barracks, heading for the back door.
“Doesn’t he ever plan anything?” I grunted. There couldn’t be many of Eddie’s goons or Gordon’s men left, but the element of surprise was gone, and they would be waiting for us somewhere in that twisted labyrinth of junk and jagged wood. The four of us stood and followed Valentine into the darkness.
Chapter 29:
Dropped Call
VALENTINE
Gordon. I was so close now I could taste it. I could sense his presence. I can’t remember ever being more focused, more intense, yet so detached. The Calm had never been this overwhelming before. My survival instinct had been turned off. This was it. I only had to live long enough to kill Gordon. After that it didn’t matter.
I entered the darkened barracks, stepping over the bodies of Gordon’s men. It was a mess in there; Lorenzo’s grenade had done the trick. The rest of the building was virtually empty, with little more than old frames for bunk beds. At the far end was another door. That’s where I was going. Gordon was hiding in this camp, somewhere, and I was going to find him.
I slowed to a fast walk as I approached the far door, my rifle up and at the ready. There were no windows on the ends of the buildings, just narrow ones along the walls. Moving to the right side of the door frame, I pulled the door open and peeked out. It was about twenty feet to the next barracks building, and its door was closed. There could be shooters on the buildings across the road, so I’d have to be careful. I looked back at Lorenzo, and with hand signals told him to cover that direction. He shifted his carbine to his left shoulder and stacked behind the doorway.
I dashed across the gap between the barracks. On the other side, I pressed myself against the wall and crouched down. At the same time, Lorenzo was leaning out of the door, his weapon covering across the road.
Flipping around, I pointed the muzzle of my rifle at the door and reached for the handle. It was locked and made of metal. It looked too solid to kick down.
“Reaper!” I hissed, trying not to make too much noise. “Get up here with that room broom! I need you to bust a lock!” The kid came running out of the barracks in a crouched jog, weapon in hand. He didn’t even stop to look at the buildings across the way. He obviously had complete confidence that Lorenzo would cover him. The kid pressed himself against the wall on the left side of the door frame, opposite me.
“Use that shotgun to blow the lock on this door so we can keep moving!” Reaper pointed the stubby muzzle of his weapon at the door’s handle and flinched as he pulled the trigger. The shotgun roared, and the door handle exploded.
There was no time to pause. Reaper turned away, and I booted the door in. A man was crouched about halfway through the building. I snapped off two shots at him, then ducked back out of the doorway, crouching down in case he fired through the wall. He fired two more shots through the doorway, then it was quiet. I leaned in and saw him, slightly magnified through my rifle’s scope. One of my rounds had gone through his abdomen, and he was now slowly crawling toward the far door, leaving a thick trail of blood in his wake.
I walked up quickly and stomped down on his back. He shrieked in agony. “Where’s Gordon?”
“I don’t know who that is!” he cried, blood pouring out of the exit wound beneath my boot. I shot him in the back of the head, shattering his skull like a watermelon with a blasting cap in it.
“Clear!” I shouted. The room was suddenly quiet. The air stank of burnt powder and dust. We crossed the room and opened the door at the far end. The doorway to the next barracks was closed, and again we had to contend with the gap between the buildings.
I peeked outside and nearly lost my head. The shots were coming from the barracks building across the way. I fell back inside the doorway just in time to avoid being hit. The shooter then began to pepper the wall with rifle fire. Bullets tore through and snapped angrily overhead.
“Everybody down!” Hawk shouted. Lorenzo furiously started low-crawling toward the back of the building. I crawled forward and got as close to the door as I could.
The shooter was still firing through the wall, about one shot every second. He was focusing on our end of the building, though. Looking back, I saw Lorenzo pop up and fire off a long burst from his carbine. The suppressed weapon sounded like a rapid series of hissing pops as it fired.
Still in the prone, leaning out of the doorway, I began to fire at the building across the road. Lorenzo’s bursts of fire had shattered the windows and stitched the wall, but the shooter was nowhere to be seen. We both paused for a moment and waited. A second later, he popped up again in the exact same spot. Both Lorenzo and I lit him up. I don’t know how many rounds the shooter took, but he fell from sight and didn’t appear again.
“Keep moving,” I ordered, scrambling to my feet and heading for the next building. I took up position on one side of the door, and Lorenzo was on the other a second later. Hawk wasn’t looking so good.
“You okay?” I asked.
“I’m too old
for this shit,” he answered.
“Do you have any more frags?” I asked. Lorenzo shook his head. Damn it. We were going to have to do this the hard way. I reached down and opened the door. We were answered with weapons fire, only this time there were multiple shooters. Lorenzo and I both leaned in and returned fire. Lorenzo mashed himself up against the fence that connected the buildings as one of the shooters inside returned fire through the wall. There was no way we were getting through that door without getting killed.
I decided to take a chance and flank them. I took off at a run up the right side of the building. Gunfire echoed through the camp as I made my way along the wall. I stopped about three-quarters of the way down and began to fire through the wall into the barracks. This way, my companions wouldn’t be in the line of fire and there was a chance I’d actually hit one of the bad guys. If nothing else, it’d distract them long enough for the others to make a move. I burned off the rest of my magazine as fast as I could pull the trigger.
My rifle’s bolt locked open. I began to jog back to the rear of the building, reloading as I went. A tiny bit of movement in the periphery of my vision alerted me. I spun around, seeing a man in a dirty suit, limping badly, blood pouring from wounds on his arms and legs. He raised a handgun. I turned toward him, reaching down for the revolver on my thigh. I felt a thump as a round smacked me in the chest plate. I lost my balance and fell.
The shooter aimed unsteadily, pistol wobbling in one bloody hand, just as my .44 cleared its holster. I took a bead on him and fired between my knees. His head snapped around in a pink cloud. Rolling back to my hands and knees, I scrambled ahead, heading back to the others.
The others were behind cover in the entrance of the final barracks. Lorenzo was nowhere to be seen. Rifle still slung across my chest, revolver held at the ready, I jogged down the length of the barracks, passing Reaper and Jill and stepping over dead bodies. It looked like I had managed to plug somebody through the wall after all.
Dead Six-ARC Page 55