One Minute to Midnight (Black Ops: Automatik)

by Nico Rosso

  Ben couldn’t let them get to cover and pin him down. He peeked out, pistol first, and spotted them nearing the gap between buildings on his side of the block. Their weapons were in disarray, and fear crept into their eyes. He snapped off two quick shots, then sprinted across the street. The first bullet hit the wounded man in the other leg, taking him to the ground. The second bullet grazed the shoulder of the man with the backpack. He flinched and fired where Ben had been.

  Still at a dead run, Ben shot wildly at the men to keep their heads down and their aim off. They flattened themselves on the sidewalk, and the backpack man dragged the wounded man into the gap between the buildings. Ben found his own gap on the opposite side of the street and had more room to move.

  Eight rounds remained in Officer Green’s pistol. Ben’s ankle piece held eight more.

  Mary spoke into his ear. “You’re drawing one of the police cars.”

  Across the street, the wounded man sat on the ground and propped himself against a wall, his weapon in shaking, bloody hands. Backpack man stood at the corner of a building, scanning up and down the block with his finger on the trigger.

  Ben was invisible for a moment. He glanced down the gap where he hid. A wood-and-metal fence spanned the buildings, too high to climb his way to the street behind. He saw the moving police car through the gaps in the boards. It would be on him after two right turns.

  “I see him,” he told Mary. “You know, today started out real nice.” Feeling her next to him in bed had been a delicious slice of the impossible.

  “Yeah,” she whispered. Like a dream.

  The man with the backpack was sloppy and left his lower leg exposed as he peered from his corner to cover the street.

  Ben lined his sights up with the man’s shin. “Then a motherfucker tried to kill me.” He fired a single shot, hit his target and knocked the man to the ground. The scream echoed over the street. Ben didn’t wait for a response and charged up the sidewalk farther away.

  But as he ran, the police car turned onto the street. The two wounded security men shouted the cops in his direction and didn’t stop yelling as the car peeled away. Ben reached an intersection before they could catch up and made a hard right. To the left and half a block away, the bakery sign stood faded in the flat sunlight.

  He rushed closer to Mary’s location and immediately bounded for safety next to a long, low appliance showroom. Another cop car parked at an angle twenty yards up the street, doors open and the officers out. One of them spotted him and immediately drew his pistol. The other followed suit, and they both fired without thinking.

  Ben’s cover held. To his right, the other cop car screeched to a stop, and the officers jumped out and took cover behind their vehicle to pin him down from another angle.

  Mary snapped, “What the fuck is going on down there? Are you hit?”

  He answered, “It’s my gift to you.”

  “You should’ve brought flowers.”

  The second set of cops also fired blindly, wasting bullets on the brick wall.

  The rounds were coming in head height, so he ducked low and fired twice at the cops on his right. One bullet tore through a tire, and the other struck an officer in the foot. “A firefight seemed more appropriate for a woman like you.”

  Intense fire came from the first cops while the second set dealt with the wounded man.

  Mary’s voice was dead calm. “It feels good to be appreciated, Ben.”

  Bursts of automatic gunfire snapped out from high. Metal, glass and plastic shattered in the street. The shooting from the cops stopped, and Ben poked out of cover to see them cowering from a barrage coming from the rooftop. His heart jumped when he saw Mary standing partially concealed next to the tall sign with a barking submachine gun in her hand.

  The first police car buckled from the onslaught. Tires burst, and the machine shed pieces of itself over the cowering officers. One of the cops scurried to safety on the other side of the car. Ben went cold with rage when he saw the cop aim up at Mary.

  Ben shot him through the forearm, and the gun flew out of his hand. The uninjured cop from the second car turned his pistol toward Ben and drove him back to cover. More blasts crackled from Mary and rained down on the second car.

  Four bullets remained in Officer Green’s pistol. Ben pulled the compact 9mm from his ankle holster and held a gun in each hand. Sirens approached, winding his clock for escape tight. He and Mary had to be gone before backup arrived.

  “You’ve got the eagle eye up there, what’s the best way out?”

  She responded, cool, “North. Let them see us turn west and draw them into the heart of town where they’ll tie themselves up. We double back east and hit that green ditch near the tracks.”

  “I like it.” He crouched, ready.

  “I’m going to need suppressing fire while I get down to street level.”

  “Say when.”

  “Stand by.” Clothing and gear rustled through her mic. “Bring hell.”

  He broke cover, fired twice at the car on his right to keep those men pinned and sprinted to the left. The cops at the first car remained low. The wounded one crouched by the rear wheel and gripped his forearm. But the other man was a threat. He popped up and aimed his pistol at Ben.

  Two bullets remained. Ben sent them at the man, hitting him in the elbow and the side of the ribs. The officer buckled to one side and fired. The shot punched into the giant window of the store behind Ben. Glass rang like a deep bell.

  Ben cleared past the police car, and Mary sped around the side of the building to meet him in the street. She unslung a submachine gun and tossed it to him. It was a welcome weight. He tucked the empty pistol behind his belt but kept the backup in his other hand.

  Relief washed over him as he ran next to her. “I think I love you.”

  She glanced at him, face hard, but emotion in her eyes. “You’re just saying that because I gave you a bigger gun.”

  They swung to their left through the next intersection. The cops on the street behind them shouted into their radios. Sirens stabbed out through town and drew closer to their area, pressurizing it. Following Mary’s plan, the two of them altered their course in a jagged line. First north for a block, then back east toward the train tracks.

  The ruse worked, and their path was free from patrol cars. They found the green ditch along the tracks and slid to the bottom then climbed into the thicker foliage on the opposite side. The different sirens of paramedics and ambulances wailed in the hazy air. The wounded were being tended to.

  Ben and Mary remained still, both covering different approaches to their hiding spot. She smelled of gunpowder, which was just as good as roses.

  He pulled out his earpiece and kept his words a secret between them. “I’m kissing you right now.”

  She also removed her com rig and whispered with a smile in her voice. “I’m kissing you back.” He warmed as if she really was.

  “Now I’m stroking your hair.” The paramedic sirens stopped. They must’ve arrived at the wounded men. “And running my fingers down the small of your back.”

  “You like danger?” Her body remained at the ready next to his.

  “Of course.” He peered through thick reeds and didn’t see any movement on the street next to their ditch. “Why else would I kiss you?”

  “I’ll give you danger.” She glanced behind them, where the cinderblock wall bordered the train yard.

  “Bring it.” He pulled out his phone and tried to update Automatik with the latest developments. “Fuck.”

  “What?” She tensed.

  “We cut ourselves off when we took out the cell tower.” He punched through apps on the phone. “I can’t accelerate the timeline for the strike team insertion. They should start moving in now that we’ve gone silent, but it won’t be until after nightfall.�
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  “Sunset in...” She watched the sky. “Over an hour.”

  “Last social media I’m seeing before the feed went dead mentions gunfire in town, but there’s a total news blackout otherwise.” He put his phone away. She shifted to address her duffel. While Ben covered the street, she snapped her tactical vest into place. The large break-barrel pistol hung in a soft case on her back.

  “You got range with that thing.” He patted it. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime.” She rummaged in her purse and handed him a 10mm automatic. “Pillaged from the security assholes.”

  “I was getting hungry.” He stripped the slide off Green’s empty pistol, removed the barrel and recoil spring and scattered them in the dirt among the weeds. The new weapon went behind his belt where the old one had been.

  “We can hit the buffet.” She made a meaningful look to the cinderblock wall.

  “The warehouse?” It had been a tight enough operation in the dead of night.

  “All you can eat.” Her grin was predatory.

  “And what we don’t take, we burn.” Enough running and hiding.

  They scanned the street, saw nothing and broke cover for the wall. She went up, then helped him over. Shadows had already collected on the other side, and they remained hidden to assess the terrain. Tracks crossed in front of them. Two hundred yards to the left were the warehouses and beyond them the loading operation. Some men worked, others stood guard with assault rifles.

  She nodded to Ben. He returned it, gave her a wink and sprinted for the warehouse.

  * * *

  The guards in the distance had superior range with their assault rifles. Mary would have to spray and pray with her short-barreled submachine gun if she and Ben were spotted. But years of doing business without resistance had dulled the guards, and they weren’t covering all their sectors properly. She and Ben had a clean run to the first ditch between tracks, where they gathered themselves again and sprinted to the warehouse. Because of the flat daylight, they didn’t have to worry about cutting a path between the motion detectors on the lights.

  The two of them reached the wall and waited. Sirens continued to swirl in town, but that sense of emergency hadn’t assaulted the train yard. She indicated the window to Ben, and he helped her to its edge. The broad doors on the other side of the warehouse were closed. All the loading was going on at the other warehouse, leaving them free to operate. She didn’t know the status of the security system during business hours. To be safe, she used her knife to attach the magnet again and swung the window open.

  She helped Ben up from the sill, and they both jumped down into the warehouse. Ben hurried to a crate and yanked the lid off. He pulled out two M4 carbines and tossed her one. There were enough magazines for both of them, but no bullets. They slung the carbines, and he stuffed the empty mags in his coat pockets while she put them in the pouches of her tactical vest. Ben took another two carbines from the crate to a set of thick metal shelves that supported older cargo. He jammed the barrels through a notch in the steelwork and bent them, rendering the weapons useless.

  “We don’t have to be subtle anymore.” He left the rifles hanging on the shelving.

  “You know what I want.” She was already walking. He trailed just behind, watching their perimeter. The Barrett was still in its case where they’d left it. She opened the lid and assembled the massive rifle. “Bullets.”

  “Roger that.” Ben took the point on the way toward the front of the warehouse. “Didn’t see a lot our first time in. Maybe by the door.”

  His hunch proved correct. The first six pallets in the warehouse were filled with ammunition boxes in all calibers. While the sounds of trucks backing up and forklifts clanging against the sides of train freight cars swirled outside, she and Ben loaded their magazines and primed their weapons for combat. She was tempted to grab more and more of the guns around them, but they needed to remain light enough to move. The Barrett was already enough of a beast to carry.

  With the mags for the Barrett full, she took out more of the .50 ammunition and held it up for Ben. “Let’s do some damage.”

  His eyes lit up and he bared his teeth. “Let’s.”

  She used her multi-tool to pry the bullets out of several shells, leaving raw gunpowder to spread around the bases of the ammunition pallets. The wood was dry enough to catch, then send the flames higher to the boxes of bullets. For detonators, they left the shell casings on the ground with a little powder inside.

  Two sets of footsteps sped up the concrete loading ramp at the front of the warehouse. The metal of an assault rifle ticked against its sling. Security guards. She and Ben immediately started up the aisle toward the back window.

  The door flew open, one of the men speaking, “I don’t fucking know. Cell phones went dead, and there was a shootout with that Navy SEAL who’d been prying in—” He fell silent when he spotted her and Ben and lifted his weapon.

  Ben fired a quick burst as they retreated. The man fell dead, and his companion dove to cover behind a stack of crates opposite the one they’d sabotaged.

  He shouted out the front door, “In here! They’re in here!”

  The man wasn’t going to try and stop them himself, giving more time for retreat. She paused and aimed her assault rifle down the aisle and let a single bullet loose. It struck one of the empty shell casings on the ground and created a spark that ignited the gunpowder around the pallet.

  White flames burst and hissed in thick lines. The wood pallet immediately caught fire. Smoke poured up and the boxes of ammunition started singeing. The other security guards who arrived at the door staggered back when they saw the burning mass.

  The delay covered more of her and Ben’s escape. Moving with the Barrett slowed her down, but she still managed to climb Ben to get up the wall to the window. She helped haul him up, then they both hit the ground on the other side.

  Explosive pops shot through the inside of the warehouse. The fire had grown hot enough to set off the ammunition. Metallic bangs ricocheted in the large space, followed by frantic yelling from the security men. A fire alarm went off.

  With their back to the exterior wall, they had a decision. To their right was the town. Left, across more sprawling train tracks, a wide swamp stretched into obscurity beneath thick trees.

  Ben tipped his head that way. “Let’s get wet.”

  It was the only choice. “Town’s too dangerous.”

  They started running. Ben’s powerful body handled all the weight of his weapons. “I’d rather take my chances with the cottonmouths than those fucking mercs.”

  Several security men from the loading area came around the side of the warehouse. Rifle shots crackled, and bullets whizzed past them. Adrenaline flashed in her legs as she charged toward safety. She and Ben ran in jagged lines, never presenting a steady target. The train tracks were set on high mounds of gravel, and the ditches provided good cover. When they reached the bottom of one, she grabbed Ben’s sleeve and pointed him down the ditch, where they’d be able to move undetected. He hurried with her, then they both turned up the far side, exposing themselves for a split second before they slid down a mossy embankment toward the swamp.

  Errant rifle fire chased them and punched through high leaves. The spongy ground stank of rotted foliage with each step. She and Ben stayed to the edge of the green water and found a relatively firm trail that pierced farther into the swamp. Trees gathered around them and the air grew colder with the damp. The flat light transformed, as if they were viewing the world from inside a green glass bottle.

  The gunshots halted behind them, replaced by running footsteps. At least eight men pursued them into the swamp. Her and Ben’s feet started to splash in shallow water. Their high path had disappeared into a broad plateau. They veered right into thicker foliage. Ben motioned them behind a dense thicket, where they halted and
prepared for an ambush.

  They were too close for the Barrett. She leaned it against the tangle of branches and readied her assault rifle. Silent hand gestures between them indicated which sectors they’d cover, who’d shoot first, then which way they were going to retreat after firing.

  The swamp fell quiet. Bubbles gurgled in the shallows, and leaves conspired with brittle voices in a light breeze. She heard her breath, and Ben’s. The rough of his thumb made a faint rasp against the grip of his assault rifle.

  Clumsy splashing announced the coming security men. They slowed as they got into denser foliage. Flashes of tan canvas and denim coats appeared through the leaves. Two men led in a crouch, their weapons ready. But unaware they were being watched. The man in Mary’s sector scanned ahead, and the barrel of his weapon swept toward her.

  She fired a single shot that sent the man backward into the shallow water. Ben’s round streaked just after hers, finding the other security man and knocking him to the ground next to a jagged tree stump.

  The other security guards couldn’t be seen, but their guns opened up in a frantic answer to her and Ben’s deadly precision. Foliage chopped apart around them. They ran to the arranged exit route, where the trees absorbed the bullets.

  Soft dirt and shallow water made it feel like she was running in slow motion. Not to mention the weapons that weighed her down. But she’d trained for years under all kinds of conditions and had fought real wars through sand and mud and snow. Ben didn’t show any signs of giving up, either. He glanced behind them as they escaped and held up five fingers, then one more. The security men weren’t quitting.

  Her and Ben’s progress through the swamp made too much noise for her to pick out the sound of their pursuers. If the men were smart, they’d spread out in a line that could march forward to contain, then kill. But they weren’t smart. Real intelligence would’ve had them running as far out of range from her as possible.