by John O'Brien
“Okay, Lynn, keep ’em down. We’re heading to the gym,” I say once we all settle into place.
“Copy that, Jack. Good luck,” she whispers back in the radio.
I tap McCafferty at my side. She nods and, rising, we head in a slow crouch to my favorite dumpster and fold into the corner. I take a step toward the pool building corner when I hear the faint crunch of a footstep. Fuck! Really?! I think as I turn and quickly motion McCafferty back to the dumpster. The step sounds close. I direct us quickly to the opposite side of the dumpster. We don’t really fit as there are two of us but we really don’t have much of a choice. We’re both hidden by the large green container but not as well as I’d like. I hear the very faint shuffling of footsteps.
“Jack, what’s up?” Lynn asks whispering.
“I hear footsteps,” I answer quietly.
A pause. “Jack, there’s no one there,” Lynn says.
“I swear I hear faint footsteps,” I respond but am confused. I don’t doubt Lynn’s words but they aren’t corresponding with what my ears are telling me.
“I don’t see a thing,” she replies. “Oh, wait, one guard just entered the light by the main entrance. How in the fuck did you hear that?”
“You got me,” I whisper. Funny thing is that I don’t hear the steps anymore. What I do notice is a slight headache but that has become the norm lately. I also know I’m in for the ‘you can hear just fine’ conversation later. Providing there is a later.
Lynn keeps me abreast of the guard’s position and it’s obvious my roving friend has returned. He is heading our way and the teams in the trees make themselves deep, dark holes. The flashlight arrives in much the same manner as the previous evening. McCafferty is behind me in the corner. I whisper that we’ll let him pass but if we’re spotted, I’ll take him. If there isn’t time or I’m too slow, she’s to take him out. I quietly hand her my M-4 and take out my six-inch, double-bladed knife. The flashlight on the ground in front of me advances.
My adrenals kick into a higher gear. Guards close by tend to do that. I take a deep breath to calm myself, releasing it through the shemagh wrapped securely around my head. Then it’s back to the short breaths. My body is both tense and relaxed as the beam moves closer, lighting the ground in front of me. The radiant light it casts illuminates my knees but only barely. This location isn’t the best for two people but it’s what we have.
The light advances slowly and the guard comes into view. The grip on my knife tightens. I’d prefer to let the guard pass as he’d be missed soon if we were to take him out. He stops, occupying almost the identical spot as before only this time it isn’t for a cigarette. It’s apparent his subconscious has told him something is amiss. Whether that came from a glimpse out of the corner of his eye or otherwise, it’s there. He turns his head in my direction.
I uncoil and launch at him. My movement causes him to take a step to the side in an attempt to face me. His light starts a quick pan towards me and his hand reaches for the handgun in a holster at his side. Thank goodness for small miracles, I think closing the space between us quickly. Time slows. I see the beam of his light coming around as his other hand fumbles for his gun. His eyes widen as he sees a shape rise out of the darkness so close and flash toward him; knowing he won’t get his gun free in time. Knowing this doesn’t change his attempt to do so however. His mind is locked on what it knows. He throws his arm holding the flashlight up at the last moment to ward off the dark shape closing in on him. Fear and panic are written all over his face.
I notice he isn’t wearing a vest nor is there the bulk of one under his shirt. I bring my hand up over his upraised arm on my second step and fold around behind him. My hand goes to his face covering his mouth and I pinch his nostrils closed. Stepping behind him, I draw my knife back and, holding the blade horizontal, plunge it under his rear rib cage on the right striking upward. The horizontal blade is in case I miss the bottom of the rib cage. If that happens, it will allow the knife to continue on its path through the ribs. I hold the knife firmly but with a loose grip in case I strike directly on the rib. This allows some flexibility to the blade and lets it to fold over or under the rib if needed.
My strike is true and the razor sharp edges rip through his shirt, pierce the skin, and enter the kidneys. The kidneys have a lot of blood vessels and nerve endings. A knife to the kidneys causes so much pain that the person becomes almost immobilized and bleeds out quickly. I feel the guard’s body stiffen in my grasp and any struggle that was there before ceases. I quickly twist my knife from side to side and then vertical. Warm blood washes over my hand. Another spasm and the guard begins to go limp, dropping the flashlight to the ground with its beam illuminating a small path toward the tennis courts.
I withdraw my blade, pull the body tightly against me to prevent it from falling, and drag it quickly into the trees. McCafferty is right there, reaches down, and turns the flashlight off. Easing the body to the ground in the trees, I know that our time is now limited. The guard is expected back by someone at some point. My feeling is that point in time is not far off as I remember him entering the rear entrance shortly after passing by me two nights prior. I do a quick search, find his radio, and turn it off so the noise of any radio calls won’t put the teams still in the trees in danger.
“We have two choices,” I tell McCafferty as she returns my M-4. “We can either go in with our previously planned entry or go in the rear entrance. Whoever is there will think it’s their buddy coming in and, if there are only one or two guards, we can clear it quickly. He’s going to be missed soon.”
“I think our original route is the safer and easier way, sir, but if the alarm is sounded or his buddies go looking for him, that changes everything,” McCafferty replies.
“I agree. I’m not a big fan of the light over the entrance. I think we should go in as we planned. We’ll have to be quicker than I like inside but I don’t see that we have a choice,” I say.
“Lead on, sir,” she responds.
We rise and head to the corner of the pool building with Lynn and the group helping to keep a watch. Several shrieks sound from both sides of the camp and faint ones answer from farther away. The night runners may or may not help. They will at least keep the tower guards busy looking outside the camp but if there get to be too many night runners, then the guards may wake the others. Maybe the steak idea wasn’t so great after all.
I slip around the corner and head quickly for the pool entrance door. I hear the soft tread of McCafferty’s boots behind. A quick listen and peek inside shows nothing but the same pattern of lights from the pool splashing against the walls and ceiling. We fold inside shutting the door quietly. Quickly slipping up to the locker room, I listen and edge into the darkened room lit only by our goggles. My pulse is racing. I don’t like to move too fast but sometimes situations dictate moving quickly. This is one of those times. If the guard’s friends start roaming around looking for him, noise is bound to happen.
I grab a couple of towels and stick them in my vest. A quick listen at the hallway door and we are in it. I go to the right this time heading to the rear entrance. I have McCafferty keep an eye behind as we slink down the long hallway. A faint pattern of lights splay against the side wall by both the small window leading into the gym and the larger ones leading into the rear entrance foyer. I glance quickly into the gym. The two guards are still watching over the main gym from the upper level. I move on. I look into the foyer through the nearest large glass pane of the double doors. A guard is peering out through one of the exterior door windows with his hand cupped around his eyes. His head looks back and forth apparently searching for his friend.
“There’s only one and he’s anxious,” I whisper to McCafferty. “Handguns only. I’ll take him and you cover.”
We crouch under the glass panes with our shoulders to the door. I double one of the towels over my gun leaving the barrel free, nod, and we push outward. The guard turns at the opening of the doors but is too late.
I center on the mass of his body. A clap fills the foyer as my sub-sonic round leaves the chamber and intersects with his chest staggering him backward into the doors. He kicks a chair and sends it scooting a short distance across the linoleum floor. Recovering quickly from the light kick, I aim again and I press lightly on the trigger. Another clap and blood erupts from his face spraying a pattern on the glass pane. The tinkling of the brass cartridges hitting the floor follows but stops after a couple of bounces. He slides down a metal pole between the two doors. His feet kick out and he falls to a sitting position, resting momentarily, and then slumps over.
I point to the heavy steel doors and windows leading into the main gym. McCafferty edges over and peers in. She turns and gives a thumbs up indicating that no one seems to have heard our little ruckus. I nod and walk over to the body keeping my gun ready in case the guard decides to rise and give us trouble. I see a small hole in his shirt from the first round entering just offset from the sternum close to the heart and a large part of the left side of his face torn asunder by the 9mm colliding with it at high speed.
With McCafferty watching into the main gym, I holster my Beretta and drag the body into the hallway. I take a towel and swiftly wipe the blood streak across the floor. With the other towel, I try to erase a large part of the blood splatter that is now running down the door and window in streaks. Giving a quiet “tsk” to McCafferty, we withdraw back to the hallway. I toss the towels on the body and stalk toward the other end. The timer, meaning our previous short measure of time available, has stopped. We are now back on our own schedule to an extent.
I make a hurried stop in the locker room again to pick out a couple more towels from the large, wheeled bin. A look to make sure all is as it should be in the main gym, with a glance at Robert lying on the same cot he was in before, and we are at the doors leading to the main foyer. Two guards are sitting in plastic chairs close to the main entrance.
“I’ve got left, you have right. As soon as they’re down, get your M-4 and keep an eye on the gym as before,” I whisper to McCafferty. She nods and we gently lean our M-4’s against the wall.
I hand her a towel and we drape them over our Beretta’s. A nod and the doors are pushed open. She is quicker than I as I have to come around the opening door. The subdued sound of two rounds leaving the chamber echoes off the blue-painted tiles of the walls. The two guards, whose heads were just beginning to turn toward us, are launched off their chairs. One chair slides a couple of feet across the floor as its previous resident tumbles to the floor. The other guard takes his chair over with him. Both hit the floor with solid thumps. One guard attempts to roll over. Two additional subdued claps fill the foyer followed by a faint metallic “tink”. The moving guard collapses.
I point to the window and walk steadily across the foyer pointing my handgun at the unmoving bodies. Small pools of blood are forming around both. Again, small holes in their shirts indicate where rounds entered. McCafferty’s second round hit the guard in the throat and a large pool forms joining the smaller one. My second one took the guard in the soft spot under the chin. The open eyes are filled with blood indicating massive trauma inside the head. A large sound emanates from one of the guards and an atrocious smell fills the air. Yeah, that’s the part I absolutely hate!
My nose is assaulted and nausea quickly rises. I know, it sounds strange with all of the other sights but this affects me to the greatest degree. I back away glancing at McCafferty who gives me another thumbs up that all is well inside. She heard the sound as well, watches my reaction with a smile, and turns back to the window. I give a report to Lynn, pick up the guard who hasn’t shit himself yet and drag him into the hallway. Looking down at the other guard, I take a deep breath and drag him across the floor. The trail he leaves behind is a significantly different color than the first one. If anything, the stench gets worse. I drop him on his buddy, grab my M-4 and exit the hall with speed.
Doing my best to not silhouette myself in the door windows leading outside, I do a hasty cleanup with the towels using my boots to scoot the towels along. I am not cleaning that up with my hands.
“You okay?” McCafferty asks as I join her.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I answer. “The only way to the upper gym is by a flight of stairs on either side of the main gym. You keep a watch and signal when they’re not watching. I’m going to the far door and I’ll enter when you tell me.”
“Why don’t we just take them out from here? It’s an easy shot, sir,” She asks.
“There’s a chance, slim as it is, that we could miss or only injure them and they could call it in. Our M-4’s are significantly louder and our shots may cause some of those inside to yell, scream, or otherwise make a fuss. One screams and it’s like a fast-moving virus. It’s contagious. Anything heard outside of the building and their cavalry will come running. We can’t afford that. The teams outside are vulnerable,” I whisper.
She nods and I head down to the main gym entry door closest to the stairs. It pulls outward and I grab the handles waiting for McCafferty’s signal. My impatience grows as the others are still outside and, although hidden, at risk of discovery. McCafferty finally raises her arm and brings it down sharply, pointing at me. I pull the door open quietly, slip inside staying against the wall, and quickly move in a crouch to the door leading to the upper gym stairs. The main gym is still dimly lit but my vision is clear. Reaching the door, I know I am hidden from the guards by the folded bleachers.
“You’re clear,” McCafferty’s voice comes quietly through my earpiece.
I look over at Robert and see him, across the gym floor, staring up at the ceiling. He moves his head looking around. Soon, Son, soon, I think slowly opening the stair door. I creep silently up the stairs. Reaching the top landing, the doors are the same as most of the other gym doors, a small window inset to the door that limits the view. I suppose this configuration cuts down on the glass repair purchases by the school district but it certainly isn’t helping me.
I can’t see the guards no matter how much I twist and turn my head in the small window even with the goggles up. I ease the door open a crack and am rewarded by a view of the guard’s backs.
“If they turn quickly, enter and take a shot,” I whisper to McCafferty.
“Will do, sir,” she replies.
I leave my M-4 against the wall and ease the door open more. It’s an awkward angle as just the slightest head turn will allow either one of them to see me in their peripheral. It’s dim here as well but I’m anything but invisible. I edge quietly and directly to the middle of the floor to prevent that slight head turn from seeing me. They are standing close together but I can’t hear any of their conversation if they are having one. I have my Beretta aimed directly at them in case of a creaky board or they suddenly decide they’d like to see what the far wall behind looks like. One small, silent step after another. My sights are visible in the greenish glow and centered on the guard to the left. I edge closer.
* * *
Robert lies on his cot feeling anxious. It was no surprise his dad was able to get in and see him two nights prior. He said he would be back with the teams tonight. Waiting for something to happen is making time pass ever so slowly. He glances up at the guards overlooking his area and looks around hoping to see some sign of a team member. One of his worries is not knowing what to do when they do come. Should he just stay put or attempt to help? Not that there is much he can do without a weapon. Maybe they’ll bring him one and pull him into whatever their plan is.
He stares at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. His thoughts race. Two prominent ones stand out. The first is hoping that Michelle, well, along with Bri and his mom, is okay and they all make it through. He thinks about his mom and finding her again. His heart lifts at the thought and knowing she is okay. The other prominent thought is trying to visualize what plan the teams will come up with. Will they be bursting in at any moment and take the guards down or will it be more of stealth approach? His plan w
ould be of the stealth variety such as his dad used with the night runners in the CDC. Night runners! How are they going to handle that? He’d swear his dad said they were coming two nights hence. The fact that his dad was just a foot away from him in an armed camp brings a smile to his face. He sure would like to hear stories of his dad’s past but he stays pretty tight-lipped about those.
He hashes and rehashes the conversation but still comes up with that his dad said tonight was the night. He was able to tell Michelle, Bri, Gonzalez, and his mom. Gonzalez reminded them not to try anything even if an opportunity arose. He carefully looks around the gym again. He doesn’t want to look too much or try to make it obvious he’s looking for something. It looks just as it did before with no sign of anyone. There’s no sound of gunfire from outside either. He thinks about the night runners and how they’re going to get past them or, for that matter, exist outside the fence at night. There doesn’t seem to be any way the teams could get in during the day without being seen. No, his dad said they were coming in at night.
I guess they could set up a distraction of some kind, he thinks as time passes. Robert occupies his time by coming up with his own plans about how he would assault or infiltrate the school. He discards idea after idea as he comes to an impasse or an obstacle that prevents a successful conclusion. He’s been with his dad for many years so knows how to think unconventionally. That’s one aspect his dad set firmly in him; the ability to think outside of the box. If there was a conventional way of doing things, you could bet his dad would be doing something completely different. Robert’s thoughts go back to how he would plan it. He would take out a section of guard posts first. Of course that would depend on how they operated at night and their radio procedures if they had any. This place wouldn’t be too hard but the classrooms would be a different story. There are a lot of guards around so it depends on their response. The plan in Robert’s head centers on locating and taking out the barracks first. Keeping the hostages out of the line of fire would be important as well. He starts calculating the number of teams he would need in order to do all he’s come up with.