Brianna's Navy SEAL

by Natalie Damschroder

  The door was guarded by two people dressed all in black, wearing full head masks and carrying AK-47s. Four more were corralling the shoppers they had rounded up, along with two blue-vest-clad cashiers, and herding them into the game alcove at the front of the store. While he watched, three others dragged a handful more shoppers and another employee up front, then headed back into the store.

  Two men—he could tell by the way they moved—separated from the crowd and hurried to the registers with overhead lights. One of them hit a series of keys on the first one, and the drawer popped open. He crowed in delight and started digging the money from the drawer.

  That couldn't be all they were here for. There wasn't enough money in those drawers to make it worthwhile for one of them to rob, never mind nine or more. He didn't assume he'd seen everyone. He figured two had to be guarding the other entrance on the department store side, and maybe more searching that side of the building, as well.

  "I'm telling you, I can't get into the vault."

  Cable switched his attention to the customer service desk, where a slight man in shirt sleeves argued with one of the intruders.

  "Don't you read signs?” the man asked, his voice rising and getting more agitated.

  "Don't,” Cable mouthed, but of course the man couldn't hear him.

  "Every store has these signs,” he pointed. “Not even just Wal-Mart. How can you not know I can't get into the vault?"

  "If you can't,” was the reply muffled by the mask, “then I got no use for you.” He aimed the weapon at the man's chest. He looked terrified. Then the intruder laughed, a high-pitched sound betraying his own tension, reversed the weapon, and hit the manager on the side of the head. Then he pulled a backpack off his shoulder and started unloading it onto the counter.

  Cable had no hope of stopping these guys on his own, not without unacceptable collateral damage. He was about to retreat to find a telephone when two sights stopped him.

  One of the men was dragging Brianna toward the front of the store. And the man with the backpack was unloading explosives.

  CHAPTER 18

  Cable had no sooner disappeared around the end of the aisle than a black-clad person in a mask and carrying a gun appeared at the other end. Brianna had no time to hide, and wouldn't have been able to figure out where even if she had. It wasn't like there was a lot of room behind the bread.

  "You. Come here."

  The terrorist—for lack of a better description—stepped toward Brie, reaching for her arm. A dozen responses zipped through her head, too fast to latch on to any, and none worth attempting. The man grabbed her by the upper arm, his fingers wrapping all the way around, and started marching her toward the front of the store.

  Not again. She went along, not sure what else to do. There was nowhere to run, even if she could get away, and she doubted he'd hesitate to use the gun. He didn't carry it comfortably, as if experienced with it, and to her, that made him more dangerous.

  She wondered why she wasn't more scared. She felt detached, remote, and figured it was a survival mechanism. Or maybe she was desensitized to this stuff by now.

  As they neared the front of the store she saw a crowd of people in the game area, and several more terrorists. Her teacher's brain, used to assessing the number of students in a room with a glance, estimated twenty or more civilians and maybe ten terrorists. She figured the guy would stuff her in with the other shoppers, but he stopped with her outside the room.

  "Look at her,” he shouted, and those who weren't already looking turned. “She's our example."

  Oh, God, he's going to kill me. Shoot me in the head.

  But he wasn't aiming his gun at her. It was hanging from his shoulder, its aim loose, as if he wasn't thinking about the weapon. So she held still, listening.

  "If anyone tries to do anything heroic, she's dead. Got it?"

  "That's Ms. Macgregor!” a little voice popped up, and with horror Brianna recognized one of her students.

  The guy holding her looked at her. “They know you?"

  She tried to shrug, but his grip made it difficult. “I'm a teacher. Lots of people know me."

  She could see him grin underneath the mask. “Excellent. Thank you.” He turned back to the group. “If anyone tries anything stupid, Ms. Macgregor here gets it. I'm sure none of you want that. And no one wants the kid to see it. So just stay put. Remember the definition of a hero: Someone who gets other people killed."

  He started to move her toward the customer service desk. Brianna frowned at him.

  "You're a Browncoat? What the hell are you doing?"

  He glared at her. “I ain't no Browncoat. I quoted a movie. Doesn't make me a fan."

  "Well, good. Because I'm sure Joss Whedon would be furious to know one of his Firefly/Serenity followers would use his words to commit a terrorist act."

  He snorted. “Lady, I don't know what the hell you're talking about. This ain't no terrorism. This is robbery. And you're gonna help."

  He shoved her through the pass-through door, then caught it as it swung toward his crotch. “And don't go thinkin’ we connected and you'll appeal to my conscience. I ain't got one."

  I can see that. But she kept her mouth shut.

  She had to play this smart. Not that anything she did or said would make a difference, if they were going to kill her or anyone else. But she had a secret weapon they didn't know about. Cable.

  The problem was, she didn't know where he was or if he knew she'd been captured. She'd have to assume he didn't. And that he didn't know she hadn't gotten to use the phone.

  At that thought, she realized it was still clenched in her hand. The terrorist hadn't noticed it. But if she tried anything now, he sure would. She pretended she hadn't remembered it, and tried not to act any differently.

  The guy unloading his backpack on the counter glanced up. “What you bring her back here for?"

  "Insurance.” He shoved her again, toward the cigarette shelves along the back wall. She let momentum carry her further away, and then tripped over a man's legs. Startled, she fell into the door of the office behind the counter. The door swung back and she landed on her hip, half in the office, the door bumping into her head.

  The guy who'd shoved her spared her a glance. She winced and rubbed her head. He looked away. She slowly sat up, keeping the hand with the phone hidden behind the doorjamb. Watching the bad guys, she flipped the phone open, then thumbed the keys to render it silent. Thank God Cable had a similar model phone to hers. She then turned the volume down, sparing a glance to make sure that was what was happening.

  Then she dialed 9-1-1. As soon as it connected, she pulled her hand away, leaving the phone open on the floor.

  "What do you guys want?” she asked, slightly louder than normal and with a little of the pain of her fall still in her voice.

  They ignored her.

  "Are you going to kill us all?"

  "Shut up."

  His voice was muffled, and she figured the 9-1-1 operator couldn't hear him.

  "I mean, how do you expect to invade a Wal-Mart with a dozen armed men and get away with it?"

  "I said, shut up!” The tall guy, her guy, raised the gun like he was going to backhand her with it. Brianna scooted forward, hoping the door wouldn't close, and started to pull her feet under her. He didn't tell her to stay down, so she stood.

  "Come here.” The backpack guy motioned to her. She slowly moved forward. “Take this.” He handed her a brick-shaped mass of gray clay.

  "What is this?"

  "Duh."

  Explosive. She never expected stuff on TV to look like the real thing. “What are you going to do with it?"

  "Blow the safe, of course."

  She frowned. “Is that all? All this, all these men, for the little bit in the safe? I—"

  "How many times do I have to tell you to shut the fuck up?"

  Even though she thought he might really hit her this time, Brianna gave him her best teacher glare. “You knew what I was be
fore you brought me over here. How many of your teachers knew how to shut up?"

  The kid with the backpack guffawed and handed her a bunch of wire. She decided he was a kid based on his body shape and voice, but she couldn't really tell anything about either of them.

  "Why are you giving me this stuff?"

  "Keep your hands busy."

  "So I won't, what, unleash my kung-fu pencil on you?"

  The kid laughed again. But she felt the taller man getting angrier. She had to shut up, like he said.

  The kid grabbed the rest of his equipment, stuff Brianna couldn't identify, and said, “Come on."

  "Where?"

  "To the safe.” He paused, not able to get by her and his teammate. “In the office,” he added.

  Shit. They'd see the phone. It was in a corner formed by the wall and a file cabinet, but it was right next to the door. They'd see it for sure, and then probably kill her. Unless she could hide it somehow.

  She followed the men into the office and stood by the door, hoping the phone was behind her feet and not visible. The tall guy went to a cabinet next to the desk and opened it. Behind the plywood panel was a heavy-looking safe door with a giant black dial and silver handle.

  "Okay, give me that stuff.” The kid took the plastique and wires from Brie, who immediately started unbuttoning her sweater. She was, luckily, wearing a T-shirt underneath. Classroom activities varied so much she always layered.

  "It's hot in here,” she said, though neither man was looking at her. Insurance she may be, but they weren't working that hard to keep her that way. She pulled off the sweater and dropped it on the floor behind her, hopefully covering the phone. It might make them too hard to hear, but she didn't know if the line was still open or not, and if 9-1-1 hadn't hung up on her, they should have heard enough by now. So all she had to do was wait.

  And not get blown up.

  * * * *

  Cable heard Brianna loudly stating what had happened and how many men there were. He thought she must be doing it for his benefit, but she should know if he was close enough to hear her, he was close enough to have figured that all out by now.

  He gritted his teeth and tried to settle into combat mode. He kept slipping out of it, growing more agitated the more they had Brianna. And the closer she was to whatever they were going to blow up.

  Fuck this. He couldn't sit here and do nothing, not when she was doing her best to help. The invaders didn't know what they had. They didn't know about him, about what Brianna meant to him, and therefore she couldn't be ammunition against him. So he had to pretend she wasn't.

  There still wasn't much he could do, but he couldn't let them blow up the place or be alerted by the cops. He needed to distract and disable the two at the door so he could get outside, assuming the cops were coming. He headed for the toy department.

  A few minutes later, everything was in place. He hid behind the tomatoes, watching the two at the door. One faced inward, the other outward, watching cars go by on the street beyond the parking lot. Or something. Cable wondered if they had more men outside, keeping new customers out, or if they'd found some other way to deter them.

  There was a click and a clatter from a few feet to Cable's right. The guy facing out turned.

  "Go check it out,” he said.

  His counterpart obeyed. He wandered through the displays, moving slowly, head turning. Cable watched his pattern and shifted his position a little. When the guy stepped past his hiding place, his head was turned away. Cable yanked him down by the legs and rendered him unconscious before he had time to do more than grunt.

  He'd hoped he'd never have to do that again, and wondered if it would be another deterrent to a relationship with Brianna. She knew he was capable of much worse, but kindergarten teachers didn't live violent lives. Usually.

  He quickly disarmed the man, unloaded the gun, and took it apart. Then he used the guy's own belt to bind his feet, and string from a bag of potatoes for his hands. He hid his body behind another display and reset the human cannonball toy, moving it to a slightly different spot.

  Damned if the second guy didn't do just as the first had. Cable had him trussed and hidden in even less time. Now he had to get out before any of these two's friends discovered they were gone.

  He retreated to the main aisles, worked his way to the snack bar and between the silver rails separating it from the main store, then crawled between two rows of shopping carts to the sensor gates and out the door. No one followed, so he hoped he hadn't been seen.

  He stayed behind a trash can until he could scan the parking lot. There were two men wearing orange vests and hard hats who'd blocked the two parking lot entrances and exits with tall orange cones and were waving traffic on. They had to be with the guys inside, and they'd see the cops approach and probably radio them, endangering everyone. The cops’ best chance was surprise, and he hoped they knew that. But even if they did, they wouldn't get it with these two on duty.

  It didn't take him long to dispatch them. Both had their attention completely focused on the traffic in front of them, until he knocked them out and secured them behind a couple of cars.

  He had very little time, so he raced back to the pay phone in front of the store, centered between the two entrances. It was out in the open, but he had to risk it. He kept low, hitting 9-1-1.

  "Please state your emergency."

  He described it concisely and in detail.

  "We've had another call from that location, sir, and officers are on their way."

  Great. She'd gotten through.

  "Tell them no sirens. The men inside now have no contact outside, that I can tell. They should park away from the front of the store. I don't know where, I'm not familiar with the area. I can't wait for them, I have to go back inside."

  "Sir, what—"

  "Trust me. I know what I'm talking about. If they can come around the left side of the building—that's left when they're facing it from the front—I can let them in. But regular officers will be no match for these guys. They'll need a SWAT team."

  "It's on its way, sir, but it will be a bit longer. They're regional."

  It figured. Cable answered a few more questions, then asked, “Are you still connected to the other caller? Did she give a name?"

  The woman hesitated. “I don't know who you—"

  He swore. “If I were one of them, I wouldn't have given you all that information. I'd sound scared and wouldn't know much, so you'd let me know all your plans. Now, do I sound like a guy who'd attack a Wal-Mart, or do I sound like a former Navy SEAL?"

  When she responded, she sounded slightly amused. “We are still connected, sir. I don't know the status of the caller, and our ability to hear has become limited, but it doesn't sound like anyone has been hurt."

  Her assertion was punctuated by a loud boom. Cable felt the wall shudder under his shoulder, and he dropped the phone, his heart stopping.

  Brianna.

  * * * *

  "You.” Cough. Cough. “Idiots!"

  It probably wasn't the smartest thing to say to men holding guns, especially when they weren't exactly gleeful.

  "I don't get it.” The kid actually scratched his head, looking at the intact safe. It was pretty much the only intact thing on that side of the office.

  "Don't you know how to use your equipment?” Brianna couldn't help herself. She'd just pulled her body out of a pile of plywood, and couldn't stop breathing drywall dust because the file cabinet had tipped over, blocking the door. Probably crushing the phone, too, not that it mattered anymore.

  The kid ignored her. “It's not that hard. You stick the stuff on the door, and it blows it off."

  "You have to direct the blast! As you can now see."

  She was no expert, herself, but her statement was obvious. The plywood housing the safe had blown off, and a hole the size of a desk had been torn into the flimsy drywall next to it. Brianna had tried to tell them they shouldn't be in the room when they blew it, but the kid had s
aid there wasn't enough material to blow that far. Good thing he'd directed it left, instead of right, the way they were standing. She had some cuts and bruises, and maybe, like, Legionnaire's disease or something with the dust, but otherwise, they were all okay.

  Small blessings.

  "What the hell is in there, anyway, that justifies all this stupidity?"

  The big guy turned on her. “God, you just can't shut the fuck up, can you? It's four days’ take, sweetheart. The armored car comes at midnight, so it's the biggest accumulation of money."

  She shook her head. “And how much is that? To be split ten ways?"

  "Twelve,” the kid said absentmindedly, still studying the safe. He was yanking on the handle now, as if maybe the lock or hinges had been loosened.

  "You shut up, too!” The tall one pulled the strap of his rifle up to his shoulder from where it had fallen in the blast and tightened his hand around the gun. “Let's go. I've had enough out of you.” He grabbed Brianna, spotted the file cabinet, and let go of her to yank it, hard, across the floor. With a loud screech, it moved a couple of feet.

  Exposing the remains of the phone Brianna had left under her sweater.

  He stared at the phone, then looked up at her, malevolence plain. He was beyond control, now, and she realized this was it for her.

  "You bitch.” He opened the door as far as it would go and pushed her through, the edge of it scraping painfully on her shoulder and chest. Her head banged the jamb. She took it silently, knowing complaining would just hasten his task.

  "I told you all,” he shouted, dragging her through the swinging door and across the floor toward the gaming area, where most of his friends now gathered, guarding the people. “Do anything stupid, and she gets it! Well, she was stupid. So now—"