A New World: Reckoning

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A New World: Reckoning Page 23

by John O'Brien


  That’s for a later time, she thinks, nearing the intersection.

  Kneeling, she peeks around the corner. Florescent fixtures light a hallway with doors branching off to the left and right down its length. It’s the door at the end that she focuses on. Behind it, six soldiers are wasting their time with a game of cards, trying to chase the boredom of their watch away.

  Briskly rounding the corner, she quickly moves down the hall, checking each door as she passes. Two of the nearer ones are easily identified as bathrooms by the placards. Her teammates behind check the others finding that they are storage rooms. Lynn keeps her focus on the doorway ahead. If it opens, she and her team will charge forth. It will be uglier but they can’t risk a firefight, especially an extended one. They are still vulnerable from the hallway behind.

  At the door, she stacks next to it with another teammate on the other side. Handing the keycard to a third team member, she signals Jack that they’re ready for entry. They’ll enter with four, the other two maintaining security in the hall. In the control room, she knows that Jack will be setting the monitor to its playback function.

  “There are bunks to the left and right of the door. The room past that is open with a large table in the middle. There should be six around that, but stay flexible as they could be moving around. We go in firing. Watch for anyone going for an alarm, they’ll be our priority target. Are you ready?” Lynn whispers.

  Hands tighten on their carbines and they shuffle to get into position.

  Lynn feels her heart beat thudding against the walls of her chest. Adrenaline courses through her as she and the team wait for Jack’s signal. One of the bathroom doors opens behind her.

  A soldier steps into the hallway wiping his hands on his pants. He looks up and his eyes go wide seeing six-armed strangers in the hall. He’s so startled that he takes no action as his mind tries to fathom that what he is seeing is real. The amazement is short-lived however as muted coughs signal rounds being delivered from her two teammates guarding the hall. The soldier rocks backward and slams into the door jamb. As he falls back, his arms jerk with each bullet strike as if he’s on the end of puppet strings. He slides down the frame and slumps to the ground.

  “Fuck it, we’re going in,” Lynn states.

  The third member of her team lays the ID card Jack delivered against the keypad. With a corresponding loud click of the door unlocking, Lynn’s teammate pulls on the handle. Lynn sweeps into the open doorway, her carbine up and ready.

  Six pairs of eyes turn toward her from a table in the middle of the room, their glances more curious to see who has entered their watch room. Their inquisitive looks rapidly change to alarm as they see armed strangers pouring into the room, barrels aimed directly at them.

  Lynn observes the change of expressions as she depresses the trigger. Rounds spit out of her suppressor, speeding toward a target on the other side of the table. She sees but barely notes as he crashes backward out of his chair. While continuing into the room, she switches her aim point to another soldier sitting next to him, who is grabbing for a weapon slung on a chair. He too is sent spiraling out of his seat.

  Stepping farther into the room as she fires, making room for those sweeping in behind her, Lynn notes the four others fall before they can grab for their weapons. None of them even made it out of their chairs. She scans the rest of the room, paying attention to the bunks, but doesn’t see anyone else. The air is filled with the odor of spent gunpowder with an underlying smell of sweat and blood. Cards, spattered with blood, are scattered across the table. Six bodies lie on the floor amidst overturned chairs. Lynn and another of her team put rounds into the chests of those lying either dead or dying. It’s over in seconds. The first round has been played.

  Looking at the bodies, Lynn feels a touch of remorse. These are, after all, just soldiers that were doing their thing before she and her team put an end to them. Lynn retrieves the ID cards from their bodies as they may need them in the next phase of their operation.

  With the room clearing of the light smoke, the iron smell of blood, torn bodies, and bowels fills the room. Lynn takes a last look at the bodies to make sure they are, in fact, dead. She then gathers her team and, leaving the room, closes the door behind, shutting off the sight and smell of the devastation.

  * * * * * *

  Lynn leaves the security room on her way to deal with the reaction squad currently whiling away their time playing cards. Looking to the screen, nothing has changed; the soldiers are still around the table. I’ll switch over to a playback function once I hear the signal that Lynn is stacked and ready. That way, if there is an alternate room or the screens are being displayed elsewhere, they won’t be alerted that we’re inside and commencing an attack.

  A few minutes later, Lynn signals. I reach up to the playback function on the control panel only to see the monitor go dark. Switching back to the live feed, the video comes online. I try again with the same result. Placing it on the live feed once again, I am about to send someone to inform Lynn when I see her and her team sweep into the room. It’s messy but over quickly. I scan the other monitors to see if there is any response to the quick reaction force being taken down. Nothing on the monitors indicates that anything has changed. The control room people are going about their tasks as if nothing happened and the equipment bay remains empty. It becomes apparent that there isn’t a second security site or monitors being watched. If there was, they could hardly miss what just happened and there would be alarm bells ringing, or at least the phone.

  Lynn returns to the security room and informs me that there were, in fact, seven.

  “Seven? Really?”

  “Yeah, there was apparently one in the bathroom. I don’t know whether he was with the reaction team or not, but there was someone in there who came out at the wrong time,” Lynn relates.

  “In the bathroom? For this long? No one has come or gone from the room or showed up on any of the monitors. What the hell was he doing in there for so long?” I ask.

  “I don’t really want to know,” Lynn answers.

  “No, you’re probably right there. And, it’s not important unless he’ll be missed somewhere. At any rate, let’s cover the differences in the layout. We’ll have to change our plans…but not much,” I say. “And keep in mind that there are some blind spots from the cameras in the equipment bay.”

  We lay the diagram on the table and go over the changes. The only real alteration is that there is another door leading from the equipment bay that seems to lead to other rooms that appear to be quarters. The original plan was for Lynn to have four teams hold the main security forces at bay and keep an eye on a fourth door leading to the maintenance areas. Now, in addition to the three doors leading to the barracks, she’ll have to designate one team to cover the other two. The rest of the plan stands as originally designed; Horace will take over the control room, Watkins will cover the tunnel, main entrance from above, and provide a reserve force, I will lead the four of Red Team to cover the doorway leading into another large set of rooms. Because the bay is so large and filled with vehicles, we won’t be able to maintain a visual with each other so we’ll be relying on squelches from the radios to indicate that everyone is in position.

  “Are we ready?” I ask, following our brief.

  “Give me ten minutes to brief the leads and for them to update their teams,” Lynn says.

  “Okay, but we can’t afford to loiter here. That lone person is making me nervous. He’ll be missed somewhere if he wasn’t part of the reaction team. And, it’s only a matter of time before someone stumbles into us,” I state.

  “I know, Jack. Ten minutes.”

  Lynn exits into the hall with the diagram. I brief Red Team on the changes; which for us, there really aren’t any. The waiting and the time we’ve already spent inside is making me anxious. I wanted to flow from one action to the next but controlling multiple teams takes time. I note the lines of tension around the eyes of each member of Red and Black Team
as we wait for Lynn to finish. We are on the verge of a firefight that could go sideways at any time. If we can hold the security forces inside of their quarters, we’ll stand a chance. If they break out, we’ll be outnumbered four-to-one on their home turf.

  Lynn returns and gives a nod. We’re ready. Weapons are rechecked. Lips are drawn tight from tension and game faces are on. If the others are like me, their hearts are pounding in their ears. We head out into the concrete hallway where the teams are gathered, looking like a football team about to take the field.

  Horace’s Blue Team will enter first to secure the doorway to the control room with Red Team right behind. Lynn will take her four teams to the first line of vehicles near the doorways leading to the maintenance rooms, security barracks, and other quarters. There, she will direct the placement of claymores just inside the halls, ensuring that they cover the halls before wedging the doors open. If the doors close, it will place the security forces behind protective cover and allow them space to react. By wedging the doors open it will give the teams clear lanes of fire down the halls, forcing the responding security forces to wade through gunfire pouring into the enclosed space.

  Once she is finished with that, Horace will enter the control room and take it over. We’ll be hard-pressed to stop any alarm from being triggered at that point but, by then, it will be too late. The soldiers rushing out of their quarters will be met with hundreds of steel ball bearings rocketing down the corridor. From there, Lynn will keep the remaining soldiers pinned in the hall with directed fire. Red Team and I will then enter the door into what looks like the headquarters. If the leaders of this outfit aren’t in the control room, we’ll find them beyond our doors.

  At the door leading to the equipment bay, we stack in order of entry. Each team lead has a key card courtesy of the security room guards and Lynn. Horace looks to me.

  “Let’s do this,” I say, giving her a nod.

  One of Horace’s teammates holds the card to the reader. The door unlocks with a loud click. Horace pushes it inward and flows inside with the rest of her team, going to the left along the inner wall. Red Team and I follow on her heels. Behind me, I hear Lynn and her four teams rush through the door and race toward their positions. The teams have entered like a fast moving fog.

  Ahead, two guards are posted on the outside of the control room. This was one of the blind spots on the camera so they come as a surprise. Horace fires a burst into the nearest one, sending him flying against the other standing next to him. The second guard’s face catches a spray of warm blood. Startled by his companion launching into him, he staggers and turns only to catch Horace’s second burst that stitches him across his chest and up. He too falls to the ground across the body of his colleague.

  I spread out to the side of Blue Team, focusing on the steel door leading to the control room, anticipating a response and soldiers to rush out. None show. Horace and her team move the bodies from the door and take stations to the side. I move with the three others of Red Team and stack next to a steel security door leading farther into the complex. Horace clicks that she is in position and I follow suit.

  * * * * * *

  The telephone rings beside Gav’s bed. It’s not often that she’s disturbed while she’s getting her few hours of sleep. She opens her eyes, instantly alert but taking a moment to place her position. Stretching and yawning widely, she turns and wiggles toward the phone, picking it up on the third ring. She notes the incoming call is from the control center.

  “Yes,” she states tersely into the mouthpiece.

  “Nahmer, sorry to bother you,” the voice on the other end says.

  “Yes, yes, what is it?” she asks, coming more awake and annoyed at the supervisor’s attempt to placate her.

  “Well, we’ve been picking up squelches over the scanner for the last couple of hours. At first we didn’t think it was anything but, well, it seems like there is a certain repetition to them. They come and go but they’ve been coming more frequently in the last hour and there’s definitely a pattern to them,” the supervisor briefs.

  Instantly awake, Gav throws her legs over the bed and sits rigidly upright. A surge of adrenaline electrifies her. Along with a sudden feeling of apprehension comes a feeling of foreboding…and fear.

  “Have you called the security office? The reaction squad?” Gav asks.

  “They are our next call, Nahmer, but I wanted to notify you first.”

  “Can you patch through what you’re hearing?”

  “One moment. We haven’t heard anything for a little bit.”

  Gav waits and hears a faint hiss as the frequency is fed into her phone. At first there’s nothing as she strains to hear, then there’s a series of definite squelch breaks that come through clearly. Hearing them, another surge of adrenaline floods her system.

  “You idiots, that’s communication and coming from nearby,” she says, flying off the bed and standing upright.

  “Call the security office and reaction squad. Sound the alarm,” Gav says, knowing it may already be too late.

  She quickly dons fatigues as a shrill alarm sounds throughout the facility. As she pulls the quick releases on her boots tight, a series of dull explosions vibrates the floor under her. Anger envelopes her, but then, that vanishes like a breath blowing out a candle. A deep calmness settles in its place. The blasts tell her that it’s too late. She can only hope the security forces can push their way through; but, in her thoughts, she knows that is doubtful. She knows who has entered the facility and, having been there before—only on the other side—the only thing she can do is wait for her guests to arrive.

  * * * * * *

  Lynn emerges into the large equipment bay on the run. She is momentarily taken aback by how vast the interior is. Humvees and Strykers are parked in neat rows to one side with a large expanse to the other for maneuvering the vehicles and for maintenance. The one thing she notes with satisfaction is the lack of anyone inside. With a fleeting glance to the side, she sees Horace deal with two guards that are posted in front of a steel door. The sight is lost as she enters a line of Humvees and dashes with the other teams down the column. The doors against the far wall that are her objective are in and out of sight as she runs by the vehicles. All eyes are focused on the doors, ready for an emergence of soldiers that would indicate that they’ve been spotted.

  However, their luck holds as all of the teams arrive into positions across from the doors without incident, spread out, and take cover behind the vehicles. A line of Strykers are in the column behind her, some with .50 cal turrets and others with 105mm cannons.

  Grabbing Mullins, she whispers, “I want you to take your team and start three of the fifty cal Strykers when we open fire. I want those guns online lending support. Concentrate on the three doors, but keep the others under observation.”

  Mullins nods and gathers his team. They ease ramps down from three of the armored vehicles as Lynn sends Green Team, Drescoll’s old team now led by Jordan, to the doors to begin placing claymores. While the two remaining teams, hers and Cressman’s, stand guard, Lynn sees to the placement of the M-240s so that they have fields of fire down the hallways.

  This is almost too smooth, she thinks, watching the last of the claymores being placed. I really hope the security forces are inside those doors. It would really suck for them to come streaming out from another unknown entrance.

  With that thought, she trots to the end of the vehicles to get a better picture of the interior. It’s dimly lit, but it’s not dark enough for NVGs to be used. Looking around, she doesn’t see any uncovered entrances other than the large hangar-like door leading out. Satisfied, she returns back to her position. Examining the hallways, it’s completely dark inside except for faint glimmers of light showing on the floors and walls, emanating from small windows inset into the numerous doors leading off the corridor.

  She signals the others that they are in position and ready. Moments later, the air is filled with high-pitched sirens. It has begu
n. Steadying herself with a sigh, she leans against the hood of a Humvee and sights down one of the open halls.

  She doesn’t have long to wait. Along the length of the halls, faint glimmers of light turn brighter as doors are flung open. She looks to Jordan, whose team is holding the claymore clackers, signaling for him to wait. Soldiers begin filling the darkened hall, many stumbling out of the doors donning vests and arranging their weapons.

  “Now,” she yells to Jordan, her voice barely heard over the screaming siren.

  Three rolling blasts shake the floor, drowning the sound of the alarm. Gray smoke pours from the open doorways completely blocking the view inside. Lynn senses more than hears Strykers behind her start up.

  “Open fire,” Lynn shouts, her mouth dry from the adrenaline in her system.

  Unseen and unheard bullets fly into and through the smoke still drifting out of the corridor through the top of the doorways. The three M-240s resting on the vehicles and the .50 cals behind soon join in the fray, lending their heavyweight fire to the suppressing fire of the teams.

  * * * * * *

  Horace jumps as the alarm goes off, filling the large, open bay with its shrill noise. The sound tells her it’s time to go, having been given the word to or not. She heard the clicks denoting that Sergeant Connell was in position and ready. The next move was Horace’s anyway. With a nod to her team member by the keypad, she braces herself for the entry. She has an idea what the interior looks like having had Sergeant Connell brief her. The mag lock opens and she pushes the door inward, storming inside. With the alarm sounding, the time for stealth and quiet is gone, to be replaced by speed.

  Inside, there is a flurry of activity among the rows of consoles. Technicians are running from one workstation to another. Some of those still seated have phones plastered to their ears. The rest are furiously hammering away on keyboards. Oddly, her entry toward the back of the room is unnoticed in the frenzy. She sweeps across the back, her M-4 aimed toward the interior. Four of her teammates follow with two remaining by the door to prevent anyone entering or leaving. The door closes, muting the sirens.

 

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