Instead, they ran into four Rangers with no time to waste.
With the headlights turned off, the driver didn’t notice that Randy and Charlie had slid into the bushes to their right. On the left, Robbie and Cody sprinted across the tracks and disappeared into the heavy brush. Two men standing in the bed of the truck fired at Robbie and Cody, but their rounds went high. Charlie put a single round through each of the gunmen in the back while Randy punched the driver’s ticket with a double tap through the windshield. The passenger door popped open, and Randy hit the man who tried to bail out.
“Just go. We don’t have time to turn out their pockets,” Randy called out over the radio. Robbie and Cody ran back to join Randy and Charlie, who cleared the truck by putting a single round through the rear passenger who’d tried to play possum.
The sound of gunfire from the two idiots in the back of the truck had drawn more attention. A dropped Honda stopped at the same intersection where the truck had made its turn. Two more men jumped out, but Charlie lit them up without stopping.
Feeling like the ugly date at a party, Robbie complained about the disparaging distribution of targets, “Could you at least give me a chance, Book? You know, spread the numbers around a little?”
“Take your time, Blaster. I’m sure they are going to sit still long enough for you,” Charlie needled Robbie.
They ran into a rail yard and stuck to the deepest shadows until they hit the west side of the facility. Ahead, they saw why the interstate had been empty in Gary. The bridge ahead had been blocked with cargo containers placed sideways across the lanes of traffic.
“Contact, front,” Charlie called out. “Snipers on the bridge.”
A muzzle flash lit up the night briefly from above as a gunshot rang out. “Who are they hitting?” Randy asked, looking through his ACOG.
“I can’t tell, but the line of cars stretches as far as I can see. There must be people trying to make their way on foot between the cars,” Charlie replied.
“They are shooting pedestrians? Those are cops! I can see one with a badge spotting,” Randy growled in disgust.
“Not for much longer,” Charlie replied, settling against a tree and let his sights stabilize on his first target. The two snipers, paired with spotters, and four additional security members brought the total to eight. The snipers both watched the north with their spotters while the security detail orientated to the south to watch their rear.
“I’ll engage the snipers first with Shadow hitting the spotters. Blaster, you and Babyface work on taking out the security boys. How does that sound?” Charlie instructed, getting into position behind a large tree and waited for Randy to find his own place to lay up. “I’m ready to engage. Everyone else up?”
“I’m good to go,” Robbie whispered.
Cody paused for a second, “I have a target ready. Blaster, I’m taking the one on top of the container to the right.”
“Cool. I’m going for the one leaning against the rear of the container smoking and joking with my next target. You take the two up top,” Robbie answered, then practiced swinging his sights from one target to the next for a few seconds while he waited for Randy to get settled.
“We can’t risk leaving anyone up there alive. They will cut us apart on the other side of the bridge before we can get out of sight,” Randy spoke up.
“Well, are you up, Shadow? We are all waiting on you,” Robbie joked.
Out of options, Randy sighed, “Yes, I’m up. Book, you initiate. Babyface, this has to be coordinated and quick. Drop your target and get to your secondary immediately. Go back and service it again if they start flopping around.”
With a distance less than a hundred yards, Charlie had a clear sight picture of the targeted sniper dressed in all black. Through his scope, Charlie settled his crosshairs at the junction between the helmeted head of the target and the base of his neck. The reticle settled on the sweet spot and Charlie squeezed the trigger. “Sending.” Charlie’s rifle coughed as the sonic crack of the bullet was drowned out by the gunfire in the distance. Watching the impact, followed by the sniper rolling to his side and convulsing on top of the steel container, Charlie moved to the second sniper and performed the same ritual as the first. The second target didn’t flop around as much as the first, and Charlie found Randy’s second target, the spotter, trying to drop down from the container to the cover of the concrete guardrail before Randy pumped three rounds into his torso. The man leaned back and clutched his chest as Charlie nailed him in the face with a .308 match grade bullet. He fell back and lay unmoving. Cody and Robbie had their targets down by the time Charlie repositioned his rifle.
"Any problems?” Charlie asked the two.
Shaking his head, Robbie stood and gathered his backpack. He changed his magazine out with a full one before dropping the partial magazine into his dump bag attached to his vest. “Nope. They never saw it coming. Let’s roll, guys. That’s going to get the natives stirred up. If for nothing else, they will be able to cross the bridge now.”
The suppressors on their rifles cut down on the muzzle blast from the rifles, but the bullets traveled faster than the speed of sound and left a sonic crack in their wake.
Holding his AR across his body, Randy took off at a moderate pace and let them settle in again before pushing for more speed. Never breaking his stride, Randy checked the map and shook his head. They had just over fifteen miles left to reach Kristi’s home. The world’s best marathon runners could cover that distance in two hours and some change. But they weren’t marathon runners and were carrying heavy gear.
He checked his watch, saw the time and shook his head. They needed to keep up the current pace for the entire time to get there in five more hours. The rail line entered a poor neighborhood and they picked up multiple gun battles flaring up along their left when Randy’s voice sounded over the radio, “Close up on me, we are too spread out for this much action.”
A group of men ran around the corner ahead of them and ran across the tracks. One of the shadows in the rear pulled a handgun and fired at an advancing group that was chasing after them. The chasing group cut loose with a barrage of bullets that tore into the group trying to get away.
Watching Randy drop to one knee, Robbie picked a side and began picking off the men chasing the smaller group. Thinking about the dynamics of this action, Randy shrugged and did the same. Cody pointed his rifle at the smaller group getting chewed up and shifted to the bigger group. The four former Rangers reduced their ranks into a handful of leakers jumping fences and screaming for help.
“What the hell was that?” Robbie asked as he changed magazines and watched for more.
“I’m calling it urban renewal. I was just going to let them settle it themselves,” Randy answered, then turned and started running.
Glancing back, Cody looked at Robbie and shrugged, “I have no idea.” He glanced at the smaller group trying to help the injured men shot in the back but decided to let it go.
Robbie checked their back trail but didn’t see anyone stupid enough to follow them.
The tracks led them into a wooded area dotted with freshly groomed fields and eighteen holes of mayhem. The golf course had been overrun by bands of roving gangs all moving west. The four watched as groups bumped into each other in the dark. The groups shot it out with rivals, all trying to get at a subdivision on the other side of the course. Not wanting any part of that, Randy had them leave the exposed tracks and follow him through the wooded areas away from the brawling gangs. Without breaking his stride, Randy shot a man who stepped from behind a tree aiming a pistol at them. The body crumbled and each one jumped over it without stopping or wondering why.
When they moved back to the tracks to cross a small stream, a group ran up onto the tracks to block them. “Contact front!” Randy barked out, dropping down and firing. Charlie engaged them from the darkness, and before Robbie could pile on, the targets lay on the bridge leaking their precious blood into an unnamed stream.
“Slow down, Book. You don’t have enough ammo to take them all out yourself,” Robbie chortled.
Changing magazines, Charlie shook his head and scanned for more problems. “I’m just taking the ones in our way. I’ve had a target-rich environment since we crossed into this golf course. Did you see the yahoos running around the clubhouse having a blast breaking out the windows and setting fires?”
“Man, don’t tempt me. Remember the mission,” Robbie griped. “Why the hell are they attacking a damn golf course?”
“They have a bar in the clubhouse, dummy. Plus, the neighborhood next door is easy pickings for them,” Randy chimed in from the front of the pack.
Glancing behind them, Robbie laughed, “Every neighborhood here is easy pickings. They expect the cops to stop this, but all I’ve seen are roadblocks. They want to contain them, not help them.”
“Yeah, I agree. This is going to make getting back out even more difficult,” Charlie confessed, then scanned his area with his rifle.
Watching his area, Cody had an idea, “Can we boost a car and drive to Kristi’s? I don’t see any cops prowling around to stop us.”
“We can’t. A moving car right now is a moving target. All of the good folks are shuttered away at home, waiting for this to blow over. The gangs and predators are roaming the streets looking for the easy pickings,” Charlie commented and then swung his rifle up. “Contact, right.” He shot a man coming toward them from the right, waving a pistol in their general area. “Clear.” He scanned around, but he didn’t see any nearby threats. “Pick it up, Shadow. See if we can keep up.”
“Yeah, Shadow. I’m ready to stretch my legs,” Robbie joked.
“Okay. Try not to cry too much, Blaster,” Randy replied.
“Hey! That was just one time, and I really did have a really bad rash.”
Unable to let that slide, Charlie jumped in and grinned back at Robbie, “If that’s what you call crabs, then fine. You had a bad rash.”
“I’ll never live that down, will I?” Robbie lamented his misspent youth for a split second before grinning to himself. “It was worth it.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Outside Chicago
They ran through areas dominated by landfills and wastewater treatment plants. With their legs churning, they ran into Calumet on the rail line unmolested and did their best to stay with Randy. Even with a prosthetic leg, the man could still outrun Cody, the youngest member of the team. Robbie held his own and regretted picking up the shotgun and the added weight from the ammunition. He contemplated tossing it aside, but he kicked himself for ever considering putting down a weapon he might need later.
When Randy led them around a stopped locomotive, they entered a massive rail yard, and didn’t see a soul moving about. Only slowing the pace, each took sips of water from their drinking tubes and kept going while fires burned in the distance. The sound of street battles from the city around them grew in intensity until Randy called for a break alongside the rail line at Western Avenue.
Dropping down on one knee, Randy looked at the map. “From here, we head north. You can hear the shit is getting heavy all around us. We have been in some shit, but never heard this much scattered gunfire. Load your empty and partial mags and from here, we don’t stop until we get to Oak Lawn. Blaster, on the map you have us crossing the Calumet Sag Channel on the rail bridge. How is the neighborhood on the other side?” Randy asked, looking up at Robbie.
“I never did get a great feel for it. You know how a place could go one way or the other, like in Afghanistan? A village would be behind you one day, and planting roadside bombs the next? Blue Island is kinda like that. You want to poke your head over the bridge and take a peek?” Robbie asked while he dug out a box of ammunition and thumbed rounds into a partial magazine until he felt the pressure of a full magazine before moving on to another.
“Yes, I’ll do that. When we move this time, let me range out ahead of you by thirty meters or so. The lights are out all over this place, so nobody will be able to pick me up unless they have thermals or night vision,” Randy told him, then passed the word to Cody and Charlie. They agreed with the idea and they stood up and let the packs settle back on their shoulders before they started moving once again. Getting to his pace, Randy ran ahead until they had the right separation, then they picked up the pace and held the correct interval. It seemed to take forever for Randy to reach the opposite side of the bridge, but everyone was thankful he did it without drawing fire. Keeping his rifle pulled to his shoulder, Charlie kept his scope up, scanning for tangos on the rooftops and from elevated windows, but everything looked clear for the south and west side of Blue Island. The track, once again elevated above the roads crossing it, gave them a better field vantage point than the horror of Gary or East Chicago.
In Alsip, they crossed Cicero Avenue, and Robbie felt his heart skip a beat. “We don’t have much further now,” he whispered.
At 115th Street their luck ran out, and Randy threw up his fist before dropping to the rough gravel of the rail line. A crowd, gathered in the middle of the intersection, burned a pile of tires doused in gasoline and dragged people from their homes. The gang lacked any real central control, but they did have one thing in common. They all had a weapon of some type. Randy watched one man blow another man’s head off with a point-blank discharge from a shotgun. The man pumped the action of the weapon and pointed it at a second man.
“Aw, fuck this,” Randy grumbled and opened up on the gang from his position. Charlie, watching the action before him, didn’t hesitate to join in. Not able to get clear shots, Robbie and Cody moved up and joined in on the action.
Each time his reticle centered on a target, Randy brushed the trigger twice before rolling to the next target. In ten seconds, he felt his bolt lock back and ejected the magazine and slapped in another while watching three trying to get away, and moved his reticle over to the furthest, brushing the trigger twice. Not watching the man collapse, Randy said hello to his friends and then moved to another firing position.
Watching the gangbangers dropping like flies, Charlie thought about the saying, ‘Paint the town red’ as he rolled to another position after dropping three. Aiming at another tango, Charlie thought the four former Rangers were doing an adequate job, and the town would have enough ‘paint’ for at least two coats.
Feeling his bolt lock and changing locations, Robbie dropped an empty magazine and reloaded with his prosthetic faster than most people with two functioning hands could. The team ceased fire with all their targets on the ground and changed their magazines without being ordered to do so.
“You see any more targets?” Robbie asked, sounding bummed.
Slowly, Charlie searched with his scope. “Nope. I see civilians trying to get the hell out of our firing solution, but I don’t see any active targets.”
“Clear the scene or haul ass?” Robbie asked and noticed Cody had never moved from his original firing location.
Picking empty magazines up, Randy stood and looked around. “We are close. Leave them here and let the civilians clean it up. They need the weapons anyway.” When everyone nodded, Randy led them around the carnage. Passing the slaughter, Charlie did a quick count and came up with over thirty tangos down.
“I still didn’t get to use my shotgun,” Robbie whined.
Cody clapped him on the shoulder, “Cheer up, Blaster. We aren’t there yet.”
“Babyface,” Robbie said in a low voice. “After you shoot, I want to see you move. You took down six targets and never moved from your spot.”
“Their return fire wasn’t even close,” Cody shrugged.
“It’s a bad habit that can get you, and us, killed. Shoot and scoot because you never know when the other side will pull an ace from their sleeve,” Robbie told him, and Cody gave a nod.
The four men skirted the scene and avoided coming into contact with the few noncombatants left standing in the slaughter.
“Jesus, this crap is escalating too f
ast. Are all law enforcement pulling back and letting this happen?” Cody scowled and shook his head in disgust.
“They have families of their own to protect, Babyface. Just like we do. Come on,” Robbie tugged at the younger man’s sleeve and got him moving. They sprinted along the line and watched out for more pockets of gangs going after the local populace. They crossed the bridge taking them over 111th Street and saw cars on the road for the first time, but the low growl of diesel engines and machine guns mounted in cupolas had them ducking for cover and waiting for the convoy to clear the area.
“Somebody’s moving in, and I don’t like the looks of them,” Charlie whispered.
“Who were they?” Cody asked.
“I shit you not, but those were United Nation Peacekeepers from the looks of them,” Charlie replied.
Not buying that, Robbie snorted, “Bullshit! How the hell did they get here in only what, two days? We busted our asses to get here from Ohio.”
Not getting into the discussion, Randy stood and led them on to Central Avenue. A used car dealership had a large party going on in the parking lot with music, drinking, dancing, and general mayhem. Nobody pointed guns at them or stopped gyrating long enough to notice the four leaving the tracks and running along the sidewalk to the high school. They turned right and raced across the open field until they hopped a fence behind the baseball field and disappeared into the line of trees.
Moving through the trees, none of them paused when they waded through a shallow stream and pushed through the low brush before climbing a low stone fence to enter yet another residential neighborhood. Holding up his fist for everyone to stop, Randy pulled out the map and checked the route planned by Robbie. “Eight more blocks. That’s two miles. You think we can make it in thirty minutes?” Randy asked Robbie.
“Hell, man, that’s slow. If we pick it up, we can make it in half that time. Fifteen minutes for two miles is a leisurely stroll for recruits in boot camp,” Robbie replied and checked their rear with his night vision goggles. Folding the map, Randy pushed ahead for two blocks, then they turned north and followed Laramie Avenue for two blocks until they hit 103rd Street. The roadblock at Cicero and 103rd Street had a massive spotlight shining up Cicero to the north, but they crossed in the dark without incident. They heard gunshots ahead, and they all increased their pace.
Stolen Liberty: Behind the Curtain Page 26