by Roger Hayden
Burke followed the curve to the top of the hill, where the ground flattened and they could see a majority of the plant from about a half mile away. Even better was a large rock, the size of a Winnebago, at the edge of the cliff, concealing their presence. Angela couldn’t have hoped for anything more.
Seeming satisfied, Burke parked directly behind the rock as the Outlaws pulled up on both sides. They immediately poured out, looking eager for a fight. Angela hadn’t said two words to any of them beyond addressing them as a group, but she found their presence oddly comforting. They shared something in common—ostracized by their government for knowing too much, many of them veterans who never considered service to their country over, retired or not. This, apparently, had made them dangerous.
“Well…” Burke said, tightening his gloves with a Velcro strap around his wrist, “here we are.”
Martinez leaned forward with his hands on top of both front seats. “If it’s not too much, I think I’ll stay close to the car. I’m not exactly up for climbing down this hill and leading the charge.”
Angela turned to him with a smile. “You’ve done plenty, sir. And I don’t want you going anywhere near that place.”
Burke nodded in agreement. “You really came through for us, Captain Martinez.” He pulled the keys out of the ignition and held them out. “Here, feel free to run the A/C while we’re gone.”
“I didn’t say I was going to wait in the car. I’d just prefer to stay close if anything happens,” Martinez said.
Burke shrugged and opened his door, stepping out as Angela leaned closer to Martinez with concern in her eyes. “Just promise me that you’ll be careful,” she said. “I could never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”
“Relax,” Martinez said, opening his door. “I just want to get a good look at the place.” He held his legs outside and lifted himself out with Burke’s assistance. After a grunt, he was on his feet and moving toward the Outlaws as they assembled outside their vehicles.
Angela looked down at her phone, wanting to call someone, anyone, and tell them why she was doing this, if anything to reassure herself. Her parents would be furious, not to mention terrified for her safety. Chief Drake was proving to be as useful as an unloaded pistol, and her daughters she was certain she would see soon enough.
She exited the car, hiking up her jeans. Pebbles crunched below her black boots as she looked into the backseat through the window, eyeing the two flak vests lying on the floor. She imagined that she and Burke would need them soon enough. She joined up with the others as they inched their way around the rock, everyone eager to get a good view of the power plant.
There, in the distance, they could see the cooling towers in full, with a large, spherical dome in the middle. There were green buildings, at least four to five stories tall, in front of the towers, and another fence surrounding the entire premises.
The power plant was largely isolated with nothing around it but barren fields with a lush tree line along the front. A spacious employee parking lot was to the side, with several vehicles parked about. They saw a tiny guard-post at the front gate, with two military Humvees parked outside and soldiers posted at the gun turrets.
For such a vital target, she had expected to see an entire army brigade encompassing the plant with Apache helicopters hovering in the air.
She felt no vindication about the fact that her fears about the plant seemed to materialize with one look. Any visible security was paltry at best.
“Well, there she is, boys and girls,” Hendrickson bellowed to his group. Fortunately, the plant was still standing, and didn’t seem to be under any duress. It seemed to be another miracle. They had made it there before the terrorists. Now, one question remained: was the plant in any real danger?
Martinez walked beside Angela and sighed with relief as he leaned against the rock. “Thank God,” he said. “Maybe the worst is over.”
“Don’t speak too soon,” Burke said, addressing the group as heads turned to him. “We’re not out of the forest yet.” He walked past the Outlaws and stood out in the open, examining the power plant ahead. “This is our stakeout point. We don’t leave until Asgar is dead and his sleeper cell wiped out.”
Both Hendrickson and Martinez looked baffled. The other Outlaws dropped their hopeful expressions in utter confusion. Martinez walked to Burke’s side, confronting him.
“Just how do you ensure that happening? He’s out there and we’re here. Isn’t it enough to just make sure they’re protecting the building?”
Burke turned and walked past Martinez, straight for his car. “I brought you and Agent Gannon here. Now, I’ve got business of my own to conduct.”
Martinez followed him, angry, as the group watched, unsure of what was going on. “You’re going to find him all by yourself?” Martinez shouted. “Is that what you’re telling us?”
“Pretty much,” Burke said, not turning around. He opened his trunk and looked at Martinez, who was boiling. “This is the only way to end this shit. I’ve got leads. Names and numbers I can track to find every last damn safe house that subhuman cockroach has.”
He pulled out his M4 rifle and slapped a magazine into its well. “You don’t need me here. I’m more than confident you can handle an attack should one happen.”
Angela felt compelled to step in, and hurried back to the car, full of questions of her own. “Special Agent Burke. I understand your desire to get Asgar. It just seems like a deviation from the plan. And nothing good can come from it. We need to stick together on this and fight them to the end.” She knew Burke to be impulsive at times and especially stubborn, but she didn’t expect him to just leave them there to pursue his own vendetta.
Burke then held out his rifle for Angela to take. “You’re good with this. Why don’t you hold onto to it while I’m gone?”
Angela hesitated and then took the weapon, feeling helpless to convince him otherwise. “Give us an hour at least. We need your expertise. We need you!”
Burke slammed his trunk shut and looked up at her and Martinez as the Outlaws kept their distance.
“This isn’t good for morale,” Martinez said. “I got them here thinking we were all in this together.”
“We are,” Burke said. “But we need to be able to walk and chew bubblegum at the same time. No sense putting our eggs in one basket, you know.”
Martinez stepped forward, blocking his path. “I appreciate your witticisms, but this is different.”
Angela studied Burke. She could tell by his stance and demeanor that there was no changing his mind. The more they pushed him, the more resistant he would become. “Let him go,” she said softly with a hand on Martinez’s shoulder. “We can do this. Maybe Special Agent Burke is right.”
Martinez moved aside as Burke walked past them to the driver’s side. “I’m glad you see it that way.” He opened his door. “I’ll be back soon. Keep an eye on this place in the meantime.”
Martinez turned away in frustration as Angela nodded, accepting his decision. Burke waved to them and began to step into his car when all of a sudden, they heard a vehicle driving up the hill. Burke froze, listening. Angela turned around as the ominous sound grew closer. Martinez moved immediately to the front of Burke’s car, limping along the way.
They could hear an engine roaring and a cloud of dust rising, but no vehicle in sight. There was little doubt, however, that they had visitors. Burke yanked the M4 from Angela’s arms, startling her. She quickly joined Martinez at the front of the car, crouching down as Burke took a knee behind his car door, aiming the weapon ahead.
Angela turned to the Outlaws as they drew their pistols and rifles. “We have company!” she said. “Take cover.”
They scrambled around their vehicles—the two vans and the Cherokee—and took hasty positions, aiming ahead.
“Who the hell is it?” Martinez said, looking ahead with his pistol drawn. Angela placed her hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him farther down. She had to keep him
safe, above all else. “Please, sir. Stay out of sight.”
He pushed himself back up with some noticeable resistance. “I can handle myself, Agent Gannon. Thank you.”
She was about make her case for his safety when an old beat-up van came into view at the top of the hill. Its headlights were on, concealing the driver and passengers from view. The van roared up the hill, and then the driver slammed its brakes, making it skid to a halt and nearly hitting the rear of Burke’s car. Exhaust fumed from the van as its engine idled. Burke, Angela, Martinez, and the Outlaws stood locked in place, ready to engage. There was still no telling who exactly was in the van. The gray sky was quickly darkening as thunder rumbled in the sky above.
“Who the hell is it?” Martinez asked while trying to peek above the car. From the looks of the rusty van, it could be a lost local or someone far more sinister.
“I don’t know,” Angela said. “But we need to stay down.”
Burke threw caution to the wind and decided to find out whom they were dealing with. “This is Special Agent Lyle Burke with the CIA! Identify yourself now!” He kept his rifle aimed at the windshield, finger steadily on the trigger.
The dark figure at the steering wheel made no move. The van suddenly darted backward as the tires smoked, tossing pebbles in the air. Burke fired a warning shot into the air, but the van maintained its hasty withdrawal. It flew to the side of the hill as the doors suddenly flew open, and a barrage of blinding spotlights hit Burke’s car and lit the entire area around them. Dark and muscular figures leapt from the van and charged toward them, holding powerful lights and rifles and firing as they advanced.
Burke knelt behind his door as bullets ricocheted against glass and metal. He could hear the men shouting in Arabic to one another. They were panicking. They hadn’t expected anyone to be there. With that tidbit, Burke made his call.
“It’s them!” he shouted to the group.
Angela pushed Martinez lower to the ground. “Take cover!”
She crawled under the car and pushed him along in their cramped confines. Martinez grunted in pain, but objected no further as rounds flew in the air, shattering glass all around them. Angela glanced behind her as she crawled flat on her stomach. The Outlaws had vanished. Only their cars remained. But they were still there, ready and in the wait.
More gunshots followed. The men encircled them, searching for weak spots. Burke turned to his right and fired into their advancing line, taking out three young militants in just seconds. They screamed as they fell, but their cries drew hasty gunfire that rained down on Burke’s position, riddling his car with bullets, but leaving him unscathed.
Angela watched from under the car as Burke rose from the ground and surveyed the approaching threat. There were five men on each side of the car, moving in fast. Angela stretched out her arms, clutching the pistol with both hands, and aimed at the men on the side opposite Burke, where several pairs of legs were moving toward them. She fired a series of measured rounds into ankles and kneecaps. The men screamed in anguish and fell to the ground.
Martinez managed to get in position beside Angela and fire a round or two himself, splitting open the head of one injured militant and shooting another in the face. Angela’s heart beat rapidly as the blasts from Burke’s rifle continued. Opposing gunfire tapered off as the militants rushing toward them dropped to the ground, injured or dead.
The van, however, was still in view. The militants weren’t finished.
“I think we’re clear on this side,” Martinez said, looking past the bodies lying on the passenger side a few feet in front of them.
Angela crawled toward Burke’s kneeling legs and stuck her head out, gasping with heavy breaths.
“What are they doing?” she asked.
Burke remained behind his punctured door, shattered glass at his feet, and kept his rifle aimed at the van as it backed up farther and then straightened out, facing them.
“I don’t know. But I almost have the driver in my sights.”
Angela ducked back under the car and then crawled to the front. She was already covered with dirt and debris. Hunched down, she called to the Outlaws. Hendrickson shouted out from behind his VW van. He was well hidden.
“We’re here!” he said. “Everyone is okay, but those bastards took us by surprise!”
At that moment, it seemed as though the militants had something else up their sleeve. The GMC’s engine revved as its bright lights beamed across Burke’s car. Burke fired a shot, as promised, directly through the windshield. The glass spider webbed on the driver’s side but remained intact. He fired another shot and got the same result.
“It’s bulletproof!” he shouted.
“Go for the tires,” Angela said.
The van suddenly charged forward at break-neck speed with the odor of burnt rubber in the air. A hatch on the roof flipped open as the GMC raced by, headed straight toward the cliff as though they were on a suicide mission.
Angela watched, stunned, as a militant, his face concealed by a hijab, rose from the top, brandishing what appeared to be a loaded rocket propelled grenade launcher on his shoulder. Burke fired a dozen rounds at the rear of the vehicle and its tires as the Outlaws joined in with shots from their weapons.
The militant at the top of the van balanced the RPG launcher as the van swerved from left to right, taking relentless damage to its left side and rear. Sparks flew from its axels as both back tires blew out. The van skidded across the dirt and stopped, inches from the edge of the cliff, but the armed militants remained determined. Angela stood up and ran toward the van, screaming, “He’s got an RPG!”
He wasn’t aiming at them, however. His target looked to be the front gate of the power plant. After an instantaneous flash, the RPG propelled into the air like a guided missile and blew the front entrance to smithereens. Humvees, soldiers and all were engulfed in an encompassing fireball that lit up the dusk sky in a crippling hellfire.
Burke stood up, exposed, and fired two shots through the militant’s head, sending his body twisting in the air before landing slumped over on the roof of the van, torn and bloody. Angela gasped and ran to the cliff to see the extent of the damage at the entrance gate. A distant alarm activated as the front gate continued to blaze. But as the Outlaws rushed out into the open, surrounding the smoking vehicle, the situation on the ground looked far from over.
Angela watched helplessly as three off-road trucks, filled with masked militants holding Ak-47s, tore through the perimeter fence, barreling to the flaming front gate at top speed. The attack was in full force now.
“They’re trying to get in!” she shouted for everyone to hear.
From their circle around the van, the Outlaws fired multiple pistol rounds, hitting it from all sides. Angela whipped around just as Burke ran up beside her, surveying what was happening below.
“Can we get down there in time?” she asked.
Burke looked around in a panic. “My sniper rifle!” He ran to his car just as Martinez crawled out from underneath, brushing sand and dust off his clothes. Hendrickson and his team managed to smash the seemingly unbreakable glass out of the driver’s side window and pull open the door. The stunned driver, a short bearded Middle Eastern man, was still at the wheel. The Outlaws shouted out in unison as Hendrickson yanked the man out and tossed him on the ground. He rolled and tumbled in the sand as the sisters, Tara and Taia, approached him with their shotguns aimed low.
“Search the van. See if there are any stragglers,” Hendrickson said, turning off the ignition. Three men rushed in, opening the other doors so that they could see inside.
Angela continued to watch the trucks’ rapid approach to the front gate as ground security teams, including two police cars, swarmed the gate to create a barrier. From one hundred feet away, the trucks didn’t slow, but instead, accelerated.
“Agent Burke,” she said. “Hurry!”
“What the hell’s going on?” Martinez asked, leaning against the hood of Burke’s car.
“Take my rifle and watch our backs. We could have more visitors coming up that hill.”
Martinez limped forward and took the gun, angry and rattled. Things had gotten out of hand so quickly, he barely had a moment to think. “What the fuck? Are these the guys? What the hell are they doing up here?”
Burke opened his case and took out an M 14 rifle, long and black, complete with bi-pod and scope. Martinez’s eyes widened at the size of the rifle as Burke cradled it with both hands. “Probably searching for the same thing we were. A good lookout spot. We definitely spooked them.”
Martinez’s voice shook as he examined the dead militants lying around the car in pools of fresh blood. “My God. I don’t think I’m ready for this. I don’t feel well.” His face was quickly losing color as sweat dripped down his forehead.
Burke walked past him and leaned through the blown-out passenger-side window of his car, grabbing a bottle of water and handing it to him. “Here. Stay hydrated. Everything is going to be okay.”
Martinez gratefully took the bottle and guzzled it down.
“You just stay here and watch our backs,” Burke continued. With those parting words, he ran off toward the terrorists’ van, where two Outlaws—bushy-haired Jim and crew-cut Thomas emerged, carefully holding an RPG in each hand.
“Be careful with those!” Burke shouted.
Angela held a pair of binoculars to her eyes, watching the terrorist convoy’s steady approach to the front gate with dread.
“Burke… hurry,” she said.
He stood beside her and got on his knees, positioning the sniper rifle on the rocky ground below. “I’m on it.”