Taken anw-4

by John O'Brien

  I hand McCafferty several of the claymores and indicate for her to take one side and I’ll take the other. She shoulders her M-4 and crosses the hall. We finally reach the last doors having placed the mines in similar locations within each room. No one enters the hall on a midnight bathroom run. Our alarm clock doesn’t trigger. We made it in time. McCafferty and I unshoulder our carbines, lie on the cold, hard floor facing down the hall, and wait. I ease the entrance door open a touch with the soles of my boots and ready myself for the concussive explosions about to occur.

  Even though I’m ready for it, the massive explosions that fill the hall and surrounding area startle me. That many claymores going off close to the same time creates one continuous, rolling boom. The building shakes and the floor beneath me vibrates as if the linoleum is made of water. Glass blows outward into the corridor from the window panes. If anyone was caught in the hall, they would have been chopped to pieces. The intensity and noise of the explosions can’t be adequately expressed. It’s deafening. Smoke rolls out of the rooms and fills the hall. The back blast jars several of the doors open causing them to slam against the lockers with a metallic clang. At least that would have been the sound if I could hear. All that’s left of said hearing is a deep ringing.

  The last tinkle of the glass, hitting the opposite walls, lockers, and doors, ends as it falls to the floor. Well, we just rang the doorbell, I think as I look for anything emerging from the rooms into the smoke-filled hall. I don’t see how anything could leave the rooms after that. After all, seven hundred ball bearings, propelled by a pound and a half of composite C-4, just erupted in each room. Anything left in the room will be leaving in a bucket.

  “Time to go,” I say loudly to McCafferty. Anything below a shout wouldn’t be heard and there’s not really a need to keep quiet now. She nods and rises along with me.

  We head across the lawn in the middle making directly for the office. Several flashes of light strobe above the roof of the classroom buildings; evidence of Black and Echo Teams, along with Henderson and Denton, dealing with the guards in the towers. I watch for any guards that might have been roaming through the camp but there is only the sight of spotlights in the towers either falling or pointing skyward. The ringing in my ears diminishes to a degree but is by no means gone. I look in the corner of one of the office windows. The main desk and area is lit by a single desk lamp. No one is in view.

  This could mean several things, they could be hiding or out checking on the noise. I don’t have time to figure out which as I observe the last of the tower spotlights tumble over the side sending its beam of light twisting and spinning before hitting the ground. This is followed immediately by an increase in shrieks emanating from the woods surrounding the school. I see several night runners flash in the perimeter lights as they cross the street. The fence isn’t going to keep them out for long.

  “We’ve got company coming. Everyone back into the gym pronto. Henderson, Denton, beat cheeks. Echo, keep them covered. Lynn, get inside and start wrapping the chains around the inside door handles,” I say rising.

  With McCafferty on my heels, I dart around the office and toward the gym. Looking to the fence where I spotted the night runners, I see they are scaling the fence with some landing inside. The race is on. I’m just glad I have a head start but it’s even odds whether we’ll get the doors secured in time. More night runners enter the lights around the perimeter and race toward the fence.

  They seem to spring out of nowhere, I think crossing the street. Night runners are pounding down the entrance road and across the parking lot; their pale faces glowing in my goggles and an occasional sheen from their eyes. They look like a horde of demons pouring from the bowels of the earth. Yep, I’ve been seen and am seemingly their entire focus like I’m the finish line they’re in a hurry to cross. I look to the gym nearby seeing faces in the windows and a flurry of movement as they hurry to seal the doors. Hopefully with me on the other side of them though.

  I race through the doors and almost trip over lengths of chain lying on the floor just inside. Black Team has just finished wrapping chains around two of the four sets of double entrance doors and locking the chains with C-clamps. There’s no way in hell we’re going to get all of them sealed in time. Looking out of the windows, the first of the night runners are crossing the street just in front of the gym.

  “Are Henderson, Denton, and Echo Team in?” I shout at Lynn.

  “I don’t know,” she yells back answering. Adrenaline is peaking.

  I grab a length of chain and start wrapping it around the push levers of the fourth set of double doors. Black Team crosses to the third set and drapes the first links through the push bar as the first of the night runners slams into the doors. The doors in front of Black Team begin to open.

  “Hold them tight and get that chain on,” I yell as the same slam occurs at mine.

  I’m holding the doors closed but they are slowly opening. I’ve given up on trying to loop the chain as all of my focus is on holding the door tight. It’s not enough. The doors are slowly creeping open. McCafferty is straining at the other door next to me. The linoleum floor isn’t giving us any traction and we are slowly sliding forward with the combined pull of the night runners outside. Their gray snarling faces are pressed close to the windows; mouths opening with strain and howls. Their stained teeth gnash as they sense victory and feeding time; their eyes alight with hunger.

  I set my feet against the steel support pole between the doors and pull with all of my might. My arms, shoulders, and back strain with the effort. I see McCafferty slide a little more along the floor.

  “Hook your feet like mine,” I shout and strain harder.

  I don’t feel the door open any further but it isn’t closing either. It’s taking everything I have just to keep the status quo but I feel my strength and energy fading. My entire back and arms muscles are locked and my arms start to shake. McCafferty is holding her own as well but I see the beads of sweat form on her brow from the effort.

  “I need help over here,” I yell knowing there isn’t any help to be given. I don’t know where Echo or the rest of Red Team are and Black Team is locked in a battle of their own.

  Thank goodness there is only the small handle on the other side or this would have been over long ago. I see the night runner I am having a tug of war with directly in front of me. He is snarling with the effort. His eyes lock on mine. They are full of confidence and hunger and tell me he knows he will win this battle. They are eager. I see another reach down to the handle and begin pulling. I feel the door start to give more. My legs are locked and the strain is intense. It will end quickly with my body just giving out all of a sudden. Our attempt at rescue is for naught and brought even greater harm.

  The night runner’s eyes open a touch wider. I see a set of hands close on the push handle next to my white-knuckled ones. I briefly glance to my side and see Robert leaning back; adding his effort to keep the door closed. The opening stops momentarily. In my peripheral, I see Gonzalez step in to aid McCafferty. We have reached a new status quo but the night runners are stronger. Although we have leverage on our side, it’s still only a matter of time.

  The windows are full of faces of night runners trying to gain entry. Behind the initial front, other heads bob and move about trying to gain the doors. The press of the others behind is actually hindering the pull of the ones in front. If it weren’t for that, the door would have been whipped open and I would have been launched into the next county. That wouldn’t be such a bad thing considering the position we’re in, I think feeling my hands slipping. I don’t dare release to get a better grip. The howls and shrieks, scant inches away, are deafening.

  Another set of hands settles on the push bar. I glance over to see someone I don’t recognize. Another joins with McCafferty. “Get the chains around the handles,” I yell through clenched teeth.

  “We’re in and the back doors are sealed,” I hear Greg say in my earpiece. I can’t respond. Sure
wish I had turned the VOX on.

  The new set of hands leaves and I close my eyes focusing every ounce of my being and soul into the strain of holding the doors. I hear the rattle as links of chain are threaded through the handles.

  “The doors are chained,” I faintly hear. My ears are roaring with the strain.

  “Find the C-clamp,” is all I have the energy to say. My teeth are clamped tight and it feels like my head is going to rupture from the pressure. My fingers ache beyond any knowing. The muscles in my back feel like they are going to let go at any moment. I can already hear the ‘twang, twang” of them snapping.

  “It’s done,” I hear.

  The pressure on the door from outside releases and the door, only open a couple of inches, slams shut. The night runners have released the doors as if they know they are sealed. The noise outside rises as they howl and shriek in frustration. They begin hammering on the windows. Black Team has finished chaining their door as well. I can’t release my fingers as they are cramped on the door handle. Faces press against the windows as if they can force their way in. Their frustration is evident.

  “Thanks,” I tell Robert and the others who showed up.

  He and the others merely nod. The fact that night runners are this close is unnerving for all of us. I hope the doors hold or we’re going to get a much closer look. I’d rather that not happen.

  I slowly pry my fingers from the door and am struck with the agony of unbending them. I straighten my back and know it will never be the same. My muscles are screaming. A wave of nausea passes through. The doors rattle back and forth as the night runners renew their efforts but the chains hold. I see several take off to the left. Oh shit! I forgot the pool door. It was my plan to seal the door there upon arrival but the effort here distracted me to the extent that I wasn’t able to get to them.

  “Lynn, the pool,” I shout.

  She is bent over with her hands on her knees catching her breath. She looks up at my call and glances outside to see night runners peel off in the background.

  “Greg, if there is any chain left, start sealing the inner doors. If there isn’t any chain, use 550 cord,” I say into the radio. “Lynn, you and Black with me.”

  “Lead on,” Lynn responds tiredly.

  “Will do, Jack,” Greg replies.

  “Gonzalez, McCafferty, Robert, help Echo with the doors,” I say pointing to them.

  We turn and leave the snarling mass of night runners at the windows. The screams escalate as we turn toward the main gym doors. I have to admit it is very alarming to have so many night runners pounding on the windows and doors; their faces pressing against the glass. The doors rattle in their steel frames even harder. Time is not our friend right now and I hope the night runners haven’t entered the pool area as yet.

  Entering the gym, I see Echo Team, with help from some of the others we’ve brought in, begin wrapping lengths of chain around the double doors leading into the gym proper. I head to the side entrance doors expecting a rush of bodies to blast the doors open. The doors open inward so there isn’t any way to seal them. We’ll have to seal the pool door itself. I look through the small window but only see the small band of light from the window, with my silhouette, against the far wall.

  I cautiously open the door. The smell from the hall launches an immediate assault upon my senses. The muscles in my back, shoulders, and arms are tight from the previous strain. My hands are shaking a little on the door handle. My legs protest the first step into the hall. Nothing is moving down its length. The locker room doors open up to the side just ahead but only the occasional drip of water can be heard from within. The ringing in my ears has subsided but I can still sense more than hear the roar from the night runners so close just moments before.

  Easing to the first locker room entrance, I crouch and listen. There is only faint sound of the pool lapping on the concrete sides. No slap of bare feet. No howling shrieks. Just the melancholy sound of empty rooms. Black Team enters the hall behind. I have Lynn post two team members in the hall covering the other locker room entrance and ease inside. Stepping quietly around the wooden benches bolted to the floor in the middle, I am startled by the sound of a door slamming.

  The booming noise echoes in the air from the pool interior. Shrieks emanate from within. I rise and dash out into the pool proper knowing fully that night runners have just gained entrance. I knew the plan to rescue those held was going too well. No plan survives from first to last encounter. I had no idea the night runners would scale the fence and be upon us so quickly. The thunderous roaring of the claymores certainly gave them notice something was up but to react so quickly wasn’t something I was expecting.

  Racing out into the pool proper, I go to my knees and see night runners pounding down the concrete floor by the side of the pool. The smell of chlorine is sharp as is the distinct odor of unwashed bodies. This is startling as I have never had such a sharpness of smell before. I feel a slight pounding in my head announcing the beginning of another headache. There are only a few night runners inside but I sense more entering. This is the first trickle of a potential flood. Their screams ring out and echo loudly off the hard walls at the sight of me. The sound of boots falling in behind me mixes with the feet of the night runners hurtling in my direction.

  I thumb the selector to auto and fire a quick burst, sending the first stream of bullets in the night runner’s direction. My M-4 kicks into my already sore shoulder sending a spasm of pain down my arm. The rounds forcefully impact the lead night runner in the abdomen and chest. It spins in mid-step and falls into the pool face first. The splash causes ripples of light from the pool to dart across the ceiling and walls. The body floats on the undulations in the water its fall created. Crimson flows from the large holes in its back and spreads out from the bobbing body. The night runner twitches and then is still.

  All of this is unnoticed as I switch to the next night runner in line. The pathway beside the pool is narrow allowing only two to three night runners to span its width. Muted barks of other carbines joining in sound out beside me and behind. The night runners in the front line are jerked from their feet to fall on the hard surface. One twists violently and falls half in and half out of the pool. It slides slowly, inch by inch, into the pool where it joins its comrade. Others fall to the floor slowly or impact hard with meaty thuds.

  The second line goes down in the same manner. The shrieks of those entering override the sound of our cartridges bouncing off the walls and floor. I quickly look to make sure no one is directly behind me. I don’t want to rise in the path of a bullet intended for a target different than the back of my head. It’s clear as the soldiers to my rear are off each shoulder.

  I rise and step forward delivering bursts of rounds into the nearest night runners. It’s important to push them back before they can mass in the pool area. If that happens, we’ve lost the room. Their massed attacks have pushed us out of every building we’ve been in before. If we didn’t have to reload, it would be easier.

  Splashes erupt from the pool again as another night runner takes the plunge with its bullet-ridden body. The pool has turned to a light pink with the streamers of light on the ceiling and walls mimicking the change in color. More night runners pour in but we are effectively pushing them back with our combined efforts. The door is only twenty feet away. If we can get to the door and close it, we can hold it and tie it off.

  I feel a hand grasp my ankle and begin tugging. The surprise and jerking pulls me off balance. I look down to see a night runner in the pool, one that I thought was out for the count, reaching up and trying to pull me in with it. The side of its head explodes splashing the water beside it with a chunky mass of flash, brain, and blood. It releases its grip and sinks below the surface only to rise bobbing in the swells of the pool. I look back at a Black Team member behind me and nod my thanks.

  Lynn stands beside me delivering burst after burst into the midst of night runners entering the doorway. Her lips are pressed together i
n grim determination. The strobes from our weapons firing bounces off the walls; their white flashes in stark contrast to the gentle crimson streams emanating from the pool. I look up from the night runner that was inviting me for a swim towards the open door. My stomach is gripped by a sudden tightness at the sight. I notice with horror that night runners have fallen in the doorway itself. There is no way we’ll get the door shut. We won’t be able to pull the bodies away while holding the door. A sickening feeling descends; beginning at my heart and ending in my stomach.

  “Jack, this is Greg. The night runners are pulling away from the entrance and heading your way,” I hear loudly in my ear piece. I stop.

  “Pull back to the gym,” I yell to Lynn.

  “Why?! We’re almost to the door,” she yells back.

  I point to the bodies in the doorway and see the problem register. She stops with me and I see her shoulders slump although she and the others keep up their fire.

  “Greg, get everyone into the upper gym and hurry. We’re going to be coming in with company. Take Echo and cover the far door from the hallway. Red Team, take 110’s and head to the upper gym railing,” I say as quickly as I can.

  “Will do, Jack,” Greg responds.

  I eject my mostly empty mag and replace it. There is a pause where everything is quiet except for the clatter of my mag slowly bouncing on the concrete and the lapping of the pool. Even the night runners have gone silent. It’s just one of those weird moments when all is quiet in the midst of incredible noise. It’s like when a room goes quiet just when you shout something inane. The night runners act as if they are confused as to why we stopped and are trying to figure it out. As quick as the silence came, it ends with a rush of noise; night runners howling and carbines firing with suppressed claps. Smoke hangs motionless in the air. Light bounces off the walls. Bodies float in the red tint of the pool.