by Justin Bell
“So Green might be in there right now,” said Winnie.
“Might be,” Rebecca replied. “We’re going to head to ground level to keep watch for a few hours and get a good lay of the land. I’m thinking around mid-afternoon we’ll hopefully get eyes on Green; I imagine he’ll be heading out later today.”
“What’s our move once we see him?” asked Phil.
Fields held up her rifle. “I’m going to watch that door like a hawk. If he comes out, I use the 716 to take out his guards, with some help from Angel and his AR-15.”
Angel nodded.
“As we’re taking the guards, Rhonda, Phil, and Clancy will move in with the kids providing support as needed. Time will be of the essence. We want to move in, grab the target and move out in less than three to five minutes if possible so Ironclad won’t have time to mobilize. There’s no telling how many men and women might be inside the corporate offices themselves.”
All around her, heads nodded affirmatively.
“What if we don’t see Green at all?” asked Max.
“I don’t know about anyone else,” Fields said, “but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll camp out here tonight if I need to and wait for him to show up. I’ve got a night vision scope in the trunk.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Rhonda said.
“Agreed,” Fields replied. “We ready to move out?”
More heads nodded, and she reached into the trunk, hefting out the duffel bag filled with spare magazines and other assorted gear. Slinging it over her muscular bare arm she strode down the paved ramp, with everyone else falling in behind her.
The city was disturbingly silent out on the outskirts, with only the low peppering of what may have been gunfire sporadically drifting over the wind. Even as they walked down to ground level the sky was darkening, cloud cover creeping in over the early summer sun, casting strange patterns of dark and light on the road down below. Winnie looked out over the railing as they walked, marveling at the skyline she could see in the distance, and imagining the kinds of terrible things going on within those skyscrapers, wondering if the city itself truly was a “war zone” as it had been described by so many. If it was, was there any chance that Lydia was still alive? Were they foolish to risk everyone and everything to keep holding on to that potential false promise?
She glanced at Tamar as he walked ahead of her, and he glanced back, their eyes meeting briefly. He smirked self-consciously and looked away, and as he did, she smiled to herself. His jovial sense of humor had already made an impression on her, and she wondered, just for a moment, if it was possible to find someone to care about in the kind of world that this had become.
It was remarkable to her how she could hear the ambient noise coming from the city itself, but the suburban areas were almost painfully silent. No car noises, no pedestrians, no ambient sounds whatsoever, like it was some massive sound stage for the worst movie Hollywood ever made and all the actors were on break.
Rebecca made her way to the bottom of the sloped roadway, following along as it curved right, cutting the angle and vaulting over the low railing separating the two halves of the ramp. She landed on the next level in a low crouch, the SIG 716 held tight in her left hand, the duffel slapping on her back.
“That girl’s in good shape,” Phil said to Angel and Angel just nodded, his mouth in some kind of strange permanent grin. Rhonda looked back at Phil, cocking her eyebrow, then followed Fields over the railing down onto the roadway.
“Your wife, she’s got good hearing, huh?”
“They all do.”
The rest of the crew worked around the V-shaped fork then curled under the downward ramp toward the exit door which they knew faced out onto the street across from the Ironclad offices.
Brad looked back as they walked and noticed Clancy bringing up the rear. He was walking slowly, holding a pistol in his right hand, shuffling along the pavement. Brad broke away from the group, walking toward him.
“Clancy?” he asked. “You okay?”
“I’ll be fine, Bradley,” he replied with a smile. “I’ll be just fine.”
“Are you in pain?”
“Oh, just a little.”
“Your arm?”
“You’ve got a lot of questions today, Brad, don’t you? Yes, my arm hurts, my chest hurts a bit. But mostly, I’m just taking it slow. No rush. Go on ahead, okay?”
Brad kept pace with him, looking up at his face again. “I don’t like how you’re walking.”
“Sorry to hear that, bud.”
Up ahead, Fields, Rhonda and the others had gathered by the closed exit door, huddling and getting their weapons ready, preparing to take their first peek out across the street.
“Looking quiet,” Winnie said, then glanced over at Tamar.
Only Tamar wasn’t there.
She whipped her head around, right, then left, then she turned around, looking at Brad and Clancy as they approached behind her.
“Did you guys see Tamar?” she asked.
Brad’s head snapped around as if he just realized Tamar wasn’t there. “No. I didn’t see him.”
Max turned toward Winnie, then his eyes widened. “Where is he? I thought he was going to hang out with you.”
“He was just here,” Winnie whispered. “I saw him like two minutes ago.”
Rhonda made her way over to them. “What’s going on?”
“Tamar’s missing,” Winnie said. She broke away from the two of them and made her way back up the ramp, heading back toward the next level up. She clamored over the concrete railing and continued onward.
“He just vanished,” Max finished. “Poof.”
Rhonda closed her eyes and shook her head. Did he ditch them? He’d seemed like such a good kid. Or did he try to do something foolish?
“Rebecca, did you see him leave?”
Fields shook her head. “I didn’t see a thing,” she said. “We’ll just have to go on without him. Assume he skipped out and ran away.”
“Why would he do that?” asked Max.
Winnie wondered the same as she made her way back toward the cars, hoping he'd gone back there. Not two minutes after she had asked herself if she really had those feelings for him, and he’d run off. Abandoned them. He definitely hadn’t been excited about going toe-to-toe with Ironclad again, so maybe he’d decided enough was enough.
“All right, get it together,” whispered Rebecca. “We need to set up shop here, where we can keep a good eye on the offices across the street. Take rotating surveillance. I’ll grab first shift, Rhonda will grab second. We’ll set up a schedule and rotate from there.”
“I’ll grab third shift,” Max volunteered.
“I got fourth,” Brad said.
“I’ll take the fifth,” a voice said, off from their left. The voice came from the dimness of the deeper level of the garage, and it was a voice none of them immediately recognized. Rebecca glared out into the darkness as a man emerged from black as if the dark shadows had reformed to reveal him. He was tall, his head shaved bald, and he wore a tactical ballistic vest over black cargo pants, a dark-colored trench coat waving slightly in the cool breeze blowing in over the railing.
Immediately Rebecca’s arms snapped up, the SG 716 leveling toward him. “Who are you?”
“Oh, I believe I’m the man you’re looking for,” he said. “Name’s Karl Green. I’ve run into a few of you before.”
As he spoke, more dark shadows emerged from around him, black garbed operatives peeling themselves from the dim shadows of the parking structure, previously hidden in the low light, now revealed. They held a scattering of M-16’s and M-4’s, military-issued weapons and military-issued tactical gear, a television S.W.A.T. team come to life.
“Now, let’s talk about the terms of your surrender.”
***
It was everything she’d been afraid of. Rhonda hadn’t wanted to leave the mall. She hadn’t wanted to take the chance by bringing the fight to Ironclad. She’d fel
t uneasy about leaving Lakeview relatively unguarded. These were all thoughts that drilled through her head in less than a handful of seconds as Karl Green and his group of operatives emerged from the shadows on the first level of the parking garage.
“I applaud your guts,” Green said, smiling slyly. “I’m not sure what you meant to accomplish here, but the fact that you came to our front door shows real chutzpah.”
“You can take your chutzpah, roll it up real tight and shove it,” Rebecca hissed back.
“Now, now… is there any need for that kind of talk? Can’t we all be civilized human beings here?” Green looked left and right, counting all the people in front of him, keeping his own soldiers in the corners of his eyes. He landed on Rhonda and smirked. “I definitely remember you,” he said. “At Lakeview. You were mixing it up with those FBI agents and made quite a mess of things.”
Rhonda’s fingers tightened around the handle of her pistol, but she left it hanging at her side and didn’t dare to even flinch.
“I think I saw you there, too, didn’t I?” Green asked, looking over at Clancy Greer. “I think I did, but you weren’t missing half a wheel. Looks like maybe Cavendish and his little clan of rednecks took a bite outta you, huh?”
“We bit back,” Rhonda replied. “Cavendish is dead.”
Green nodded. “Figured as much. Just as well, really. Saves me some trouble.”
Rebecca’s assault rifle remained elevated and pointed at Green and the group, and she showed no sign of lowering it. “Do you really want to play this game, Green?” she asked. “You said it yourself, we’ve chutzpah. We’ve also got more bodies and more bullets than your guys.”
Green looked back at the group of four that had joined him, then straight at Fields, grinning. “Oh you think these are my only guys? No, no. Far from it. I just didn’t want to come across too intimidating, you know?”
“So why even make an appearance?” Fields asked.
Karl shrugged. “You know, when the spotters I’ve got on the roof of the building tell me a couple of cars pulled up and a pretty girl with a sniper rifle is looking out over the railing, that gets my attention. I want to know what she’s doing here and why she’s got a bunch of friends. I’m not starting any trouble.” He looked over at Rhonda. “Heck, I even let you keep Lakeview. There’s been enough death lately; it’s time to just try to move on with our lives.”
“And by ‘move on’ you mean move to Stage Three, right?” Fields asked.
The words caught Green’s attention. “Excuse me?” he asked, turning toward her. “What do you think you know about Stage Three?”
Rebecca smiled behind the Tango 4 scope mounted on the top of the battle rifle. The twin cross hairs inside had settled on the upper left section of Green’s chest, but she made no motion to pull the trigger. There were questions they needed answers to.
“You might be interested to know that the folks at Consolidated Tool & Die keep all sorts of paper records in their corporate office. And their security kinda sucks.”
Green crossed his arms over his broad chest, his narrow eyes burying deep into Rebecca. He stood there in silence for a moment, but only for a moment.
“See, I wish you hadn’t said that,” he said quietly.
Rebecca’s finger tensed on the trigger. She sensed something was about to happen.
“I was perfectly content to take you all in, toss you in our basement cell block, let you guys stick around for a bit. Maybe get some use out of you.”
“What changed?” Rhonda asked.
Green looked at her. “Well, I’m sorry, but if you really do know about Stage Three, then I’ve got no choice. We’re going to have to put you down.” The four men behind him all stepped forward in unison, the muffled clatter of their weapons raising a quiet signal of what was about to occur.
Rebecca held her ground, maintaining her firing stance, both hands clutching the weapon, but the finger still resting on the trigger guard and not firing. Rhonda looked over at her and could feel a cool trickle of sweat bead on her forehead and start to wind its way down toward her left eye.
“You might find that a little harder than you thought,” Fields muttered. “We don’t go down real easy.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“We’re looking for my daughter, Karl!” Rhonda blurted out, her voice echoing in the tight confines of the parking garage.
“Your daughter?” Green replied.
“My eldest daughter. Cavendish said he thought she went with ‘Grandma.’ Said she went with you.”
A brief flash of realization seemed to cross over Green’s face, but it was gone before Rhonda could truly latch onto it. Right as she thought he might know something he wasn’t saying, the look had shifted and she couldn’t translate what she saw afterwards.
“Maybe I know where she is, maybe I don’t.” Green said. “I’m pretty sure you’ll never find out.”
Rhonda tensed, using all of her strength to keep the pistol pointed down, struggling against her base instincts which, at that point, would have only served to get her killed. She could see Phil out of the corner of her eye, standing further back, the Beretta ARX held across his chest. By the time he had it in firing position, this little skirmish would be over. She could see Max and Brad behind him, both of them with pistols in hand, both of them with pistols facing the floor. None of them had been fully prepared.
None of them except Fields.
She stood, rigid as a board, each muscle dovetailed perfectly with the next, a straight line from heel to spine to shoulder, the SG 716 perfectly perpendicular to her posture. If she acted quickly, she could take one of them down, maybe even two, but she’d be cut down long before she took out a third, and if Fields went down, they were as good as done.
“So what are we going to do here?” Fields asked. “Shoot each other for no reason?”
“Like I said,” Karl reiterated, “nobody wants to see any more death. There’s been enough. But we’re simply too close to Stage Three to risk anything right now. You’re just a victim of bad timing, young lady, I’m sorry.” He held up a hand to the four men behind him, their weapons already raised. Fields’ eyes jumped from one man to the next, her mind doing mental gymnastics, trying to calculate how she could get out of the fight alive.
Wasn’t going to happen.
They weren’t drastically outnumbered, but the other gunmen were highly trained, likely had armor plate in their vests, and each carried a fully automatic. Her and Phil were the only ones with full autos on their side, and considering her position, she’d be dead within seconds. It was officially going to be a massacre.
“All right, stop wasting time,” Karl said. “Open fire!”
A series of swift, echoing reports split the air and Karl jumped back, whirling to his right. The two gunmen in that direction jerked and sprawled backwards, gunfire from their blind side taking them completely by surprise. Fields adjusted quickly, cocking her hip and swiveling slightly, adjusting the aim of her SIG, then slamming the trigger twice, shifting, and repeating the motion. Her weapon jolted and spat bright white light in the darkened garage, 5.56 millimeter rounds pounding into the two gunmen on Green’s left throwing them roughly to the concrete floor.
Rhonda spun toward her left and saw Winnie climbing over the concrete railing, a pistol in her hand, a thin spiral of pale smoke whisping from its barrel.
“I went back to look for Tamar,” she stammered. “They… they didn’t see me.”
“Freaking great shooting, kid!” Fields shouted. “Man! Two targets down at forty yards!”
Winnie smiled widely as Fields stepped forward, keeping her weapon trained on Green.
“That didn’t work out real well for you, did it?” she asked, though Green didn’t look too bothered.
“Again… impressive. But this is a long way from over.”
“Rebecca! Heads up!” Phil shouted and outside the parking garage, the three vans that had been across the street came screeching to
a halt in front of the structure, side doors slinging open, metal on metal rails screaming. More operatives spilled out, weapons in hand and already firing, a barking chatter from automatic fire pelting at them.
“Cover!” Fields shouted, falling back and spinning away as the concrete floor broke apart near her feet, spitting chunks of rock up into the air. Green turned and dashed to the railing separating the first level from the outside and Phil turned toward him, trying to bear down on him as he ran. He fired the ARX a handful of times, chewing apart the thick, concrete half-height wall, but Karl leaped over it, spilling out onto the grass outside, bullet holes thunking against the hard surface in his wake.
“Pull back, pull back!” Fields shouted, back-pedaling as gunfire screamed into the structure, knocking at the concrete support columns, railings and walls. “We are seriously outnumbered here!”
“This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen!” Rhonda shouted as she ducked away, lifting her Glock and firing four times. Out on the grass, one of the operatives lurched and toppled over.
“Save the I told you so’s please!” Rebecca yelled. “Make sure we’re all alive to get punished by them first!”
“They’re coming through the door!” Brad yelled, leaping toward the metal exit. It started to open, but he drifted right, holding his Ruger in two hands, then fired several successive shots. The door slammed backwards and a muffled shout followed. Max swung around a thick support pillar, his father already ducking down there, the Beretta rifle lowered momentarily. Phil’s eyes were darting around at the moving dark shapes, which they could see dashing through the grass outside. Phil lifted his weapon, stood for a moment and fired full auto, the 160 thrashing in his tight hands, several chunks of concrete wall and railing spitting away near the exit door. An operative swung around the wall out into the opening between the railing and the roof and fired several shots, but Phil swung back around behind the pillar, bullets whacking harmlessly at the hard surface.
Fields moved forward, sighting in on the gunman who had almost hit Phil and pumped three swift shots at him, knocking him backwards and down to the ground. As he fell, she darted down and to the right, narrowly missing an incoming barrage from her left-hand side. As she ducked away, Winnie came up on her opposite side, her Beretta pistol shouting.