The Sons of Liberty

by James Tow

twenty-six. Paul, the drivers closest to you are first. I’ll take the other three on your go,” he said. I focused on the first driver, and tried to calm my nerves. I quickly shifted my weight for comfort and looked down my rifle’s scope to the last truck to see the driver looking out his open door. I hesitated for a few seconds, but I eventually fired. His head jerked backward, and he lay limp in his bloody seat. I moved up a truck and saw this driver standing outside his truck. Easy enough, and I fired. His body collapsed, but my heart stopped as I saw the third driver running toward the body of his comrade. I froze. As he started to yell, an invisible shot tore through his neck, then one through his head.

  “Damn, he’s good,” Spenser said behind me.

  The soldiers appeared to cheer once they saw the bodies were gone from the trees and graves appeared. Now they can finally reign terror upon the school. That is, until they discovered our sign. They stood around for a moment, and stared intently upon our logo. Then they started to shuffle impatiently before speed walking to the trucks. One of the Russians started yelling in his foreign tongue while he ran toward the six bodies.

  “Open fire!” Gabriel grunted through the radio. The loud blinding flashes from the roof and the parking lot started raining down on the soldiers as they sprinted back to their vehicles.

  I heard Spenser’s bolt sniper rifle go off as I grabbed my .50 caliber. I frantically shot through the crowd of soldiers without worrying too much about aim. One soldier’s leg rolled three feet when I shot his knee, and another fell face first and slid several feet when I nailed his back. Several other soldiers collapsed in their tracks as Gabriel brought down his hammer.

  The first two trucks accelerated forward as a few soldiers survived the barrage. A shooting star of a rocket left a cloud of exhaust from the roof and flew down, hitting the front end of the first Humvee. The explosion left tremors rumbling through the ground and I focused my aim on the second vehicle. I fired three times through the driver’s side door, and it veered right into a ditch. The remaining soldiers were still sprinting for cover, while other survivors used the other four Humvees as a last stand.

  “What’s he doing?!” Spenser yelled. I followed his gaze to see Gabriel sprinting forward through the trees and into the open field. He had the butt of the M4 against his shoulder, and was shooting at the backs of the fleeing Apocalypse soldiers.

  “Cover him!” I screamed to Spenser.

  The soldiers behind the trucks saw Gabriel and opened fire. I quickly gave support fire—hitting the opposing force in the face with .50 caliber ammo. I fired the remaining shots of my sniper into the trucks—hopefully taking out someone as the shots ripped through the armor. I shuffled through my vest’s pockets and reloaded the sniper.

  I looked through the scope to see Gabriel quickly closing in on a lagging soldier as he sprinted for cover. The soldier turned around and started to aim his rifle at Gabriel, but Gabriel was too fast. He threw down his M4 rifle, jumped forward, and landed a bone shattering kick to the soldier’s chest. Gabriel’s victim flew off his feet, and his back hit the side of the Humvee in the caboose. While sitting down, the soldier pulled out his pistol, but Gabriel quickly pulled out his sawn-off shotgun from his belt and blew off the soldier’s hand. Amongst all the gunfire and shouting, the mercenary’s screams could be heard echoing through the air. Gabriel took his time, as he slowly grabbed extra shells from his pockets and reloaded his weapon. Several soldiers came peering out from behind the vehicles and took aim at Gabriel, but I tore them to shreds before they could get a shot off. Gabriel slowly brought the reloaded shotgun to the face of the screaming soldier. “NO! PLEASE NO!” was all I could hear before he pulled the trigger.

  Eric and Chris came into view as they continued their fire upon the enemy. Gabriel threw down his shotgun and stood behind the rear of the Humvee. Using the fire from Eric and Chris as a diversion he pulled out his bolo blade and crept behind the soldiers.

  It’s over, I thought as I heard skin-curling screams from the soldiers. But to my horror, shots were fired and three soldiers piled into the Humvee—squealing its tires and sped off down the street. Gabriel became visible as the truck drove off. He was limping after the speeding truck, and then fell to his knees. Grabbing my M4, I got to my feet and sprinted toward the field. I hopped over the outfield fence, and ran for Gabriel. He looked at me, got to his feet, and pointed at the school, “help them,” he croaked. I hesitated but changed directions and sprinted toward the school.

  The truck drove through the fence that ran along the perimeter of Pine Forest and sped through the parking lot. Eric and Chris were in its path as they continued to fire upon the truck. Chris dove out of its path—Eric tried, but was too slow. The front end of the Humvee hit Eric in the chest, and his mangled body rolled under the vehicle. The truck swerved some more due to the heavy fire from Ebben and Toni. It finally came to a stop as it crashed into Pine Forest’s brick surface. The soldiers stumbled out of the vehicle and ran for the front entrance. No!

  “CHRIS!” I yelled, hoping he would kill them before they rounded the corner. He got up, tried to find his footing and fired sloppily as I stopped to a crouch and fired, but we were too late.

  My eyes watered up as the cold wind rushed against my face, my throat felt as if I were drinking acid, and I couldn’t feel my body as I pushed it harder and faster. I failed, was all that ran through my mind, but I knew I couldn’t think like that. I passed the broken truck and continued to sprint to the doors. I could hear gunshots and faint shouting—I couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. So I sprinted harder.

  The glass panes, which made up most of the front doors, lay shattered on the ground—only leaving the metal frame. I leaped through the broken doors and saw Alyse taking aim with a pistol at a Russian soldier, with her right arm, while keeping an American in a tight headlock with her left.

  I was blinded by fury and the frantic state of my emotions. I sprinted through the second doors and quickly reached the Russian soldier. I lowered my body and placed a perfect shoulder into his celiac plexus. I heard, and felt, the air escape his body as we both crashed to the ground. Still blinded, I straddled his abdomen and begun to pound his head into the white tiled floor. I felt my fist sink further in with each blow as the bones in his face continued to break. I stood up when I was finished, and tilted my head back to try and catch my breath. I looked down and I couldn’t believe a face used to be where the mangled mess of flesh, bone, and teeth was now. I held my hands up to see they were drenched in blood. My mind was racing. The crowd of onlookers was staring with wide eyes and open mouths—including Alyse and her captive.

  I tried to recall what just happened, but it was all a blur. A paradox. I strode over to the soldier in Alyse’s arms, and wiped my hands on his uniform. I then grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and his neck—throwing him against the group of lockers that lined the walls in the commons. I stomped my foot on his chest, and I aimed my pistol at his face. The crowd of students and teachers behind me began to scream, and hurried out of the area. Only Alyse, Bergstrom, and members of the Omega Unit stayed behind.

  “No! He might know something,” Bergstrom said from behind me.

  “What’s he going to know?! The color of the underwear from the last woman he raped?!” I snapped back.

  “Base of operations, their next move, I don’t know! But he could know something,” he retorted.

  I turned to the soldier, and put my foot against his throat. “So what’s it going to be?” I asked him. “Give us something or die like the rest.” Then I realized something, and I took my foot off his chest. This is Gabriel talking…not me.

  I squatted down beside him, “C’mon now, we know that you know something that we can use. Just tell us,” I implored.

  “Fuck you,” he spat in my face.

  Alyse walked up next to us, “What about Austin, Texas?” she demanded. I looked up at her, puzzled.

  “The Games?” he said smiling. “You go there, and you’r
e all dead. I guarantee it!”

  “Why do you have to be like that? I just asked you a simple question.” I said jokingly. “Your mom beat you as a child? Is that why you throw your pussy ass all over any woman and child you see? Take it out on them? Maybe we should hang you up on that tree.” I whispered in his ear. He tried to sit up and grab me, but Alyse punched him in the face.

  “Bitch,” she said in her Scottish accent.

  I laughed, but so did the Apocalypse soldier. “Go to Austin. You’ll meet your end there,” he chuckled. “The end of the Reed brothers! That’ll…” he started to say, but stopped in mid-sentence. He jerked his head to the front doors, and the smugness in his face faded. I could hear the heart pounding in his chest, and see the sweat rolling down his face. I turned to see what he was fixated on. Through the open doors was Gabriel. He was limping slowly toward us. His blade, in one hand, was painted with blood, and the sawn-off shotgun occupied his other. His scarf was pulled over face—showing only his vicious eyes which told me one thing.

  He must have been shot a dozen times—luckily most of the bullet holes were in his vest. Blood rolled down both arms, making the scars that coursed through them more prominent.

  “Oh God, Oh God, Oh