AJ suddenly stood and fired into the ceiling again, thwarting further attempts to leave and immediately drawing fire from the outside. The first sign of an attempted breach. He cursed at the first-responders, warning them not to enter, before hurriedly rounding the truck. When he rushed by—within three feet of me, I might add—he was carrying a second Claymore mine, cradling it one-armed like he was holding a baby. In his other hand, he brazenly held high a fragmentation grenade, pin in place. His finger wrapped around the pull ring.
This was not good.
Anyone acquainted with either of those two particular devices and what they were capable of, or had any sense at all, knew to stay clear. The rest ran screaming toward the back of the bar, unwittingly, cornering themselves further.
Being a stats guy, I quickly assessed our situation. Under duress. I re-conned the interior of the building. We were walled in on two sides, with only three exits—four if you count the broken window—two of them now no longer an option. Our odds weren’t particularly good.
I looked three booths down, where I spied a hand motioning for me. A face appeared seconds later under the bill of a worn army cap. I gestured to her that I would watch out for the shooters, holding up my hand to keep her in place. When neither of the gunmen was visible, I waved for her to come to me. She disappeared for a moment before reappearing with three young children scurrying in front of her. They glanced up at me, frightened beyond words. I forced a smile, nodding reassuringly. I pressed a finger to my lips, motioning for them to be silent. As the traumatized family crawled past me and into the kitchen, another young soldier, barely thirty, who I assumed was their father, appeared behind them, scrambling toward me.
Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I caught movement as the younger gunman reappeared. His arms no longer held a mine, but an AR15, his rifle at the ready. Trying to get the soldier’s attention, I waved my hand from behind the foliage where I was hidden, only; he didn’t see me. Didn’t see him. When the perp was just a few yards away, the soldier looked up. And it was in that instant, he understood, either from my expression or from having heard heavy footsteps crunching on glass nearby, that he was in imminent danger.
I tried to remain invisible as the shooter approached. Fortunately, he hadn’t seen me. However, he had spied the fair-haired officer scurrying away in the opposite direction. Hurrying away from his family and the perceived danger, he had left himself nowhere to escape. Whether intentionally or not, he had allowed himself to be cornered. And, in what I’d like to believe was a brave, final attempt to save his family, he had moved too far away from me, thus sealing his own fate. One last act of valor.
As though sensing the gunman’s presence, the guardsman’s eyes met mine once more. They didn’t reflect fear or remorse, but a keen determination I’ve witnessed many times in battle. The young father slowly raised his head, his eyes traveling up the dusty boots to the face of evil standing over him before looking back down.
Then, I noticed as casually, almost imperceptibly, the soldier unclenched his fists. Carefully, cautiously, he flattened his palms on the floor. When he made a very slight motion of his head upward, my eyes glanced at the perp standing above him before quickly darting about looking for the other. I nodded, signifying that I would help in a concerted attempt to unarm at least one of the gunmen, except—
Unexpectedly, the soldier pushed himself up and backward, knocking the man standing over him off balance, the gun falling to his side. I was poised to pounce to his aid, only—the other shooter suddenly appeared. I fell back against the wall again, silently cursing myself as the two men continued to wrestle on the ground, exchanging harsh blows and expletives.
The alpha, a flash of anger in his eyes, fired into the air, startling them both. He then stepped broadly, deliberately, toward the soldier, arriving and standing above him, the rifle muzzle dangling over the man’s face. His partner immediately rolled over, grabbed his own gun, then quickly rose and assumed a place of reconnaissance with his back to the perceived leader.
I contemplated. The distance. The angle. Our positions. I calculated and considered my options, all in a matter of seconds because seconds were all we would have. Only, I knew I would not reach them in time. I could not reach them in time.
The now-bloodied soldier looked at me once more, his piercing blue eyes holding my stare without giving me up. Ever so slightly, slowly, his head moved from side to side, as though sensing my thoughts. He, too, hesitated, until I slowly, reluctantly, nodded in return. Then he closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and began to whisper. A prayer, perhaps. Asking for forgiveness or for the lives of his children and their mother.
Then the man standing over him yelled out. “Hear me now.” He slowly rotated 360 degrees assuring that his voice was heard by all. “We are not here for you, but you are here for us. For the greater good. You will do what we tell you to do, or you will be shot.” He looked down at the soldier, still on the ground. “Get up,” he growled.
When the man beneath him didn’t move, the alpha grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and jerked him up to stand; the soldier, cradling his injured right arm. Then, just as suddenly, he shook the soldier loose, the man falling to his knees before him. Stepping back, the alpha drew his weapon, pointing it at the beaten man’s temple from a few inches away.
“Hands,” the gunman ordered, making a circular motion with his finger until the wounded man reluctantly turned around. A moment later, he produced a pair of thick plastic zip ties and proceeded to secure the soldier, tugging the man’s injured arm and gruffly pulling it back, causing him to wince in pain.
The alpha raised his voice again, still turning. Talking to those outside. Talking to us. “Any attempt to keep us from our mission will be met with severe consequences.”
AJ shoved the wounded soldier toward the supply room beside the bar. He motioned with his Glock until the man reluctantly stepped into the dry storage closet, and then AJ pistol-whipped him. Hard. More than once.
The alpha yelled louder. “Any attempt to thwart us will result in you, or possibly someone you love, paying the ultimate price.”
Suddenly, AJ straightened his arm and fired several times into the closet. Bursts of cries and screams rang out from around the diner. Then, he turned, kicked the door closed, pressed a new magazine into his weapon, and fired above our heads to stress his point.
“Everyone lie on the floor, and you will not be shot. Resist, and we will shoot you,” the alpha hollered.
I closed my eyes, trying to remember how many I’d seen still in the restaurant. How many wounded. How many hiding. It had been sheer pandemonium. I couldn’t be sure. I banged the back of my head against the wall. Think! Damn it. You’re trained for this.
Grenades. Claymore mines. I opened my eyes, knowingly. Okay—he had most assuredly trip-wired the entryway and at least one exit. Undoubtedly cornering the anti-personnel device for maximum damage, assuring that no one would be entering the premises any time soon. Or leaving. Thankfully, those in the kitchen made it out. Everyone that had must have told those inside that the perpetrators were well-armed. Plus, they would inevitably spy the trap that had been set for them before attempting a full breach, right? Hopefully. Logically, they would assume it was more of a deterrent than an actual weapon. But, justly, they would treat it as the dangerous artillery it was.
At that moment, someone touched my shoulder from behind, and I jerked, twisting in place. Reflexes on high alert. Only—
Chapter 14
When I looked into her eyes, my heart sank. Mary Beth instantly threw her arms around my neck, grasping me tightly.
“We can’t get out that way,” the cook whispered when he reappeared. “The door is jammed, or stuck, or something.”
“They must have blocked the exits so that there’s only one way in and one way out. Past them.”
“What are we going to do?” Mary Beth whispered as she released me, her body and voice trembling.
I exhal
ed dramatically. Thinking. More sirens sounded in the distance, racing closer as petrified children cowered in the shadows with their mother. I turned to Mary Beth, pointing to the frightened unit. “Can you help look after them? Please,” I added, pleadingly.
Mary Beth, without hesitating, nodded and then crawled to the family.
I eyed the uniformed man beside me up and down. “How tall are you?” I glanced at his badge. “Corbin.”
“Five-eleven.”
“Weight?” I began unbuttoning my shirt.
“Two-ten. Why?”
When I proceeded to untie my boots and strip down to my boxers, Corbin quipped, “You going to shame them into surrendering?”
“Anyone else my size work here?”
He gave me an odd look, glanced around, then nodded over his shoulder at one of the sous chefs.
I immediately turned to find a man about my height, maybe twenty pounds heavier, putting all of his weight against the back door trying to push it open. At the same time, others were still scurrying around helplessly searching for hidden exits or hiding places.
“Hey,” I barked, as he continued ramming the door like a football player against a mod sled. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The man stopped instantly, turning to me. I tilted my head. “They booby-trapped the other exits. There could be a reason you can’t open that,” I warned, with a shrug and raised brow.
I thought I actually saw the blood drain from his face as he quickly drew back like the door was on fire. “Really?” he asked, frozen in place.
I looked at Corbin. “He’ll do.” When the cook’s gaze met mine, I added, “They’re targeting soldiers.”
Corbin motioned hurriedly for the large man to come to us.
“Take off your pants,” I ordered.
He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “What am I supposed to wear?” he asked.
Corbin interrupted. “Tell me you’re not thinking of going—”
“Okay, I’ll stay in here, while one of you two go out there and disarm them,” I replied, pointing toward the dining room.
That was all I needed to say. The man couldn’t remove his clothing fast enough.
“I’ve gotta lose the uniform before I do something stupid. Like getting shot.” I looked around the room as others grabbed potential weapons from everywhere: knives, carving forks, skewers, not to mention pots and pans. Things not as easily hidden under clothing.
“Do you have a plan?” Corbin asked.
“Workin’ on it,” I said, hurriedly dressing.
“Does it include not getting dead?”
Yelling and repeated gunfire sounded at the far end of the building, causing them to flinch. Whimpering and sobs came from the darkest corner of the room.
“People are already dying,” I reminded him needlessly.
“Tell me how that’s not doing something stupid,” he eyed me up and down in my new attire.
“What if that was you out there. Or someone you cared about?” I added, with brutal honesty.
He looked at me sheepishly, then sighed. “What can I do?”
“We need towels. Linens. Anything. We have to get to the wounded and see if we can save some of them.”
“Like they’ll let us,” he scoffed.
I held out my hand. “Eddie.” Then, immediately, I turned and matched the sole of my boots against the chef’s, tossing mine aside, and putting his on. “How many on duty right now?”
“Twelve. Thirteen,” he quickly corrected. “Including me.” Then he looked away. “Hopefully, some made it out,” he added, his voice shaky.
“We’re going to get out of this, Corbin.” I put my hand on his forearm to calm him. “Okay?”
He swallowed hard before nodding. “Okay,” he replied, unconvinced.
More gunfire erupted. Closer. Too close. I kept hoping a voice from outside would inform us that the building was surrounded, telling the gunmen to lay down their weapons and surrender. However, I knew that wasn’t how this would go down. This thing was just beginning to unfold. If anything, first responders on the scene would attempt to breach the building to disarm or take out the shooters. From where I sat, the ambitious rescuers would become easy targets. This wasn’t going to be over in a matter of minutes. This was going to be a standoff.
When I finished changing, I quickly shoved my dusty clothes into Corbin’s arms. “Get rid of those. Someplace they’ll never find them. Got it?”
The chef disappeared without a word.
I stepped to and knelt by Mary Beth’s side. The children sobbed softly. Trembling. When their mother’s gaze met mine, I quickly looked away, afraid my eyes would betray the terrible truth.
“You’re all being very brave,” I praised the children. Then, with as much sincerity as I could muster, I smiled. “We’re going to get you out of here, all right?” One by one, they nodded back. I turned to Mary Beth, resisting the urge to brush a strand of hair from her face as I nodded. “I promise.” Before leaving, I took off my dog tags and pressed them into her palm. “I need you to hold onto these for me until I get back.”
Mary Beth looked down at the metal in her hand, clasping it tightly before eyeing me warily. She nodded, silently pleading for me to be careful.
“Find a safe place back here. A closet, cabinet, something. Just stay hidden. Okay?” I instructed her. “But,” I leaned closer and whispered into her ear. “If anyone but me comes through that door, you do what you have to do to stay safe. When they come through the door.” I sat back, my eyes firmly holding hers. “Understand?”
Mary Beth didn’t take her stare from mine. She bit her lip, maintaining her composure, and nodded reluctantly. “You had better come back.” I pulled her to me, pressing my forehead to hers. More shots sounded beyond the door, and she flinched in my grip. This woman had braved the elements in the mountains of Afghanistan and stood up to a Taliban chief. Yet in all the time I’d known her, I had never seen her scared—until now. The little ones whimpered as quietly as they could and held each other nearer, closing their eyes tightly; I’m sure, silently willing the perpetrators to disappear.
When I looked up, Corbin and another employee, whose name tag read Logan, arrived with an armful of towels and tablecloths. Logan handed the linens to me then quickly hurried away, probably afraid he’d be recruited next. When I was about to move to the door, Corbin held my arm firmly.
“You sure he’s targeting soldiers?”
I considered his question before answering honestly. “No. But, I’d rather not take the chance.”
Corbin drew in a deep breath then shakily blew it out.
“You ready?” I asked.
“Nope,” Corbin replied. “But I’m coming anyway. My mother always said, if someone jumped off a bridge, I’d be the first one to jump off after them.”
“Yeah, well, my mama tried to get me to quit jumping off those bridges.” I grinned and then patted him on the back. As I looked into his young, innocent eyes, I prayed a silent prayer. God, let me be right.
We army-crawled together, as slowly as possible, dragging all the linens and towels we could carry, and tentatively moved into an opening around the corner. The music played on, still audible through the cries for help and the sobs. Random screams.
The first person we came to was one of the staff, unconscious and bleeding from the head where a wall of bricks had fallen and hit him. I field dressed his wound, while Corbin used a linen tablecloth to make a sling for an injured woman’s arm. I nodded to Corbin as we turned to seek more wounded, only to find ourselves mere feet from, and facing…
The alpha.
Chapter 15
The rifle hung menacingly close to my face; the barrel, suspended maybe two feet away. It was meant to intimidate. A warning. My mind instantly ran through several scenarios in which I could attempt to disarm him, yet—
Slowly I turned my eyes upward, meeting his. Though I wanted to be defiant and hold his stare, ditching my uniform would have been moot had
I done so. Now, I’m a big guy. Just shy of six two. About two-and a quarter. And because of my size, I needed to appear more vulnerable than intimidating; more like a gentle giant. So, I tried looking beaten, drooping my shoulders, making myself seem smaller.
Therefore, I did the only thing I knew to do. I dropped the towels, stayed on my knees, lowered my gaze, and put my hands behind my head. Corbin quickly followed my lead.
The man didn’t move. He didn’t speak. After many moments passed, and we didn’t get shot, I slowly lowered my arms. I could feel his eyes boring holes through me. When I finally looked back up, I saw no hateful stare as I expected. Instead, I saw what I could only describe as—determination.
Though trying to hide, people were visible throughout the room. Some hid under tables. Some lay flat on the ground where they had fallen, scared out of their minds; playing dead. Others hid behind walls or pressed themselves into corners. A few brave souls risked their own lives to aid others that were unable to move. I could see the rest culled in the back between the bar and a wall. Occasionally, cell phones chimed different tunes from all around the building. Several of the survivors that I had spied were soldiers, plus myself. Though, I was sure there were more. Only—where was the second gunman?
I lowered my gaze, my eyes darting about as my fingers slowly searched for a towel on the floor before me. The man didn’t balk when I looked up and held it out to him. There was a deep gash over his left brow. “I know a little first aid.”
He stared right through me. Slowly, I began to stand. Without saying a word, he took a pistol from its holster, unlocked the safety, and pointed it at Corbin’s head. He didn’t need to say anything. I understood his intent. And I didn’t need to look at Corbin to know the cook was sweating bullets right now. No pun intended.
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