by Gavin Green
I didn't think I had a problem with booze, not like a couple years earlier. I admit that I had a little trouble after what turned out to be my last mission. I'd seen other soldiers killed in combat, and in various ways, but seeing Bill and Rodney all fucked up from that IED got to me. They were my best friends. I started drinking to erase that image. It was bad for a couple months after I started my IRR (individual ready reserve) at home to finish my eight-year military contract.
That was about when my mom started going downhill. My only sibling Al died in a car wreck on his eighteenth birthday, and Dad thankfully croaked from a massive coronary when I was seventeen. So after I left for the Marines, my mom was alone. She moved in with her sister, but my Aunt Donna passed away two years later from an aneurism. Two months after that, my mom's mom - Grandma Sadie - passed on from heart failure. When I finally got back to the States, the cancer had just started to eat my mom up. Not much of a homecoming.
It was four months of watching my mom waste away until she finally gave in. The sale of Aunt Donna's house covered the rest of the hospital bills and a nice funeral. There was a little left over to add to my savings to buy my place outright, not that it cost much. I didn't need or want anything fancy, and it was where I did my binge drinking and feeling sorry for myself. I was pretty much a worthless piece of shit for a while. I pulled myself out of that slump, but I still kick myself for getting that low in the first place.
So, that left me as the last of my line of Beck's. It wasn't that uncommon of a name, but my closest relatives were like fourth cousins and I didn't even know 'em. Except for Grandma Sadie, the rest of my family kicked the bucket while relatively young. I was in no hurry to join them, but there was a little voice in the back of my head that told me my time might be limited, too. In one way, it was right.
INTRUDERS
Alright, put these things together: cold January night, outside in the dark for hours, and trudging around through five inches of wet snow. What do you get? Me.
Even with a full set of snug long underwear, my clothes, and a leather jacket with matching gloves, I was still freezing my balls off out on Stanley Everett's lawn. The outdoor hot tub we turned on for heat was the only reprieve Diego and I had from the cold as we individually circled the mansion. Each of us only spent a minute hovering over the steamy water before moving on again. It was kind of pathetic.
On my umpteenth circuit, as I was coming around to the expansive west side yard, I saw movement in the big bushes against the fence. Five figures came out, almost all at once. They didn't move like professionals; it was more like determined amateurs, but they spread out and began advancing. I was about to radio it in when Craig yelled into our earpieces that there was movement on the grounds. Even in the dark, it was easy to see the dark-clothed intruders against the snow, and each of them had a sidearm. Super.
I hurried over to the cover of a big tree while pulling out my Glock, and was going to wait a few seconds until they were in better range. The echo of gunfire erupted from the east lawn, where Diego was. The outside floodlights came on and then immediately went out, along with all of the interior lights; they'd cut the power lines.
I snuck a glance at the intruders on my side; they were moving up faster, I assume because of the gunfire. Still using the tree for cover, I turned and aimed for the guy in the middle. I figured targeting him would bring at least two others to focus on me and not the mansion. I didn't have any moral qualms about initiating combat on my end; they were the aggressors with bad intent, and I was outnumbered. I aimed for the legs of the middle guy and let off two quick rounds. He stumbled and dropped. Go me.
Automatic fire ripped up the tree I was using for cover, spraying shards of wood and bark everywhere. I spun back into full cover. I thought they just had pistols; where did the machineguns come from? I guessed small sub-machineguns or machine pistols, which meant that those guys were well-funded. I started drawing gunfire from two sources. I glanced out and saw one intruder firing small bursts from tree cover. After another glance, I discovered that the guy I shot was firing in my general direction from his prone position. Only two of the five were moving to the back of the house.
I didn't see the one who was nearest to me when they were advancing; I checked my flank but didn't see anything. I waited for a lull in gunfire and spun out to my left again. The guy with tree cover had just reloaded and stepped out to resume pinning me down. I had him in my sights before he could fully raise his gun to a firing position. Pop, pop, pop - gut, chest, head; he dropped in his tracks.
While the risk was low, I then fired twice at the prone guy. He grunted as one or both shots hit him, and he stopped shooting. Almost too late, I sensed something behind me. I swung back hard and fast, elbow locked with my gun extended. The back of my hand hit the wrist of the guy who snuck up on me. The impact knocked my gun out of my grip, and loosened the grip he had on his Mac-11. I gave a knuckle strike to his forearm, hard enough to make him fumble his gun and lose it in a snow drift against the tree. Good, we were both unarmed. Although he looked pretty bulky, I thought I would have the upper hand. Not quite.
The guy looked surprised that I made him drop his weapon. I took advantage of his hesitation and delivered a jab to his jaw and a hook to his nose. I was about to press the attack when he punched me in the chest with a big fist. I went sprawling backward and landed on my back in the snow. Holy shit, he hit like a truck. I didn't know how my nose punch didn't make him see stars, like it would for anyone else. I scrambled to my feet as he came at me. He probably didn't want to turn his back on me to find one of our guns. Steroid boy could've crushed my skull with his hands anyway.
From a crouch, I launched into his midsection, hoping to knock the wind out of him. It was a good spear, and I drove him back a couple steps, but he took it like a champ. I hadn't fully stood up yet when he stepped in and landed a shot to my cheek. It turned out that I was the one seeing stars. I was on my back again, about ten feet from him. I tasted copper; blood, either from my mouth or nose, or both. I couldn't worry about that; I had to bring the fucker down.
His slow approach allowed me to get to my feet again. I backed up to make sure my head was clear, and then I went after him. I circled and threw debilitating shots that weren't so debilitating on him. Kidney punch, jab to the eye, palm strike to the ear, kick to the solar plexus - they only momentarily stunned him. He swung a backhand that caught my shoulder and sent me stumbling.
When he came at me again, I sidestepped his swing and kicked with all my might into the side of his knee. It crunched and gave out. The bastard only went down for a second before rolling away with a grunt of pain and got back to his feet, albeit hobbled. I moved back in and made a series of quick strikes before he could lock his hands on me. I drove my boot into his groin, threw two hooks into his hard stomach, and then grabbed his hair and rammed my knee twice in rapid succession into his face.
I took a step back. The fucker wouldn't go down. He was wobbling like drunk on one good leg, with no idea where or who he was, and his face looked like bloody gristle, but he didn't drop. I took two steps behind me, located my gun in the snow, and then walked back and shot him twice in the forehead. Then he fell. If all of the intruders were on PCP like that guy, I was in deep shit.
NEWCOMER
I heard gunfire inside. Craig didn't answer when I called him, but Cordell whispered a reply. "Leo, you okay?" I heard more gunfire in the background over the radio.
"Pretty much; give me the situation."
I looked at the flashes of gunfire through the first-floor windows while he answered. "No answer from the rest of the team. Landlines and power are cut. I'm intact. I have the client, his wife, and most of his guests in the -"
"Wait a sec, Cord," I said over him. "I've got more movement out here." From the back of the house, one of the intruders came around the far corner. He more than likely was checking on his partners. I found the Mac-11 and picked it up with my left hand; my Glock was still in my right.
I started toward the returning intruder at a jog, raising both guns as I went.
Someone stepped out from behind the tree nearest to the intruder. I had no fucking clue who the surprise visitor was or how the hell he got there. I only saw a glimpse of the newcomer while he grabbed the intruder and yanked him behind the tree. All I could see was the tails of a long coat on one side, and flailing hands and feet on the other. I cautiously moved in their direction.
Literally two seconds later, the newcomer came out alone from behind the wide tree. From forty yards off, he looked in my direction for a quick second. Before I could react, he darted toward the back of the mansion, out of sight. By his frame and coat, he looked just like the silhouette I saw at the fancy nightclub a couple days before.
I heard a faint, wheezing groan to my left. It was the guy I shot in the legs, and apparently in the torso as well. He was still lying there with bloodstained snow all around him. Two holes in the side of his coat were releasing thin ribbons of steam; cold air hitting deep, open wounds will do that. I thought about putting the guy out of his misery, but decided I needed all my ammo. He was going to bleed out soon, anyway. I kicked his gun away from his twitching hand and ran after the newcomer.
INSIDE
I moved cautiously around the corner and looked for any movement. Out on the large flagstone patio was an unmoving body. I moved closer to inspect; it was one of the meal servers. I heard more gunfire inside, a few bursts. I tapped my earpiece. "Cord, are you with me, man?"
He quietly answered two seconds later. "Hit, I'm hit - not too bad. The client is next to me. We're in the study, off the living room and foyer, front west corner. Dan is pinned in the kitchen. I don't know if Craig was able to make a call. I've already dialed 911."
"I'll do the same here in a sec." I took a deep breath. "Okay, buddy, hold tight. With all the gunfire, I bet cops are already coming anyway." I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed 911, then brushed snow off of a retaining wall and set it down. "I'll be there in a minute, Cord."
I crept across the patio and paused near the hot tub. I didn't need its heat just then; my adrenaline was keeping me plenty warm. I stepped over the dead server and to the French door of the billiards room that was slightly ajar. Before I stepped in, I thought of the blueprint we studied. Cordell was in the study, cornering himself. Craig was in the monitor room, across from the billiard room. Dan was on the other side of the first floor in the kitchen, closer to the garage bays. No good plan came to mind.
The best odds were to get everyone in a car and get the hell out of there; otherwise it might become a hostage situation. Since I had no idea where the intruders were or how many were left, my plan was to adapt to the situation. That meant I was going to wing it.
I slipped through the door, keeping low. There was a body on the far side of the pool table. It was one of the intruders; his neck was broken. I patted the body. No wallet, just extra ammo magazines. There was another burst of gunfire somewhere upstairs. I peeked out into the short hallway that led to the large central family room. Directly across from me was the door to the monitor room. It was open, and Craig's body was inside. The windowless room stunk of burnt gunpowder, blood, and spilled coffee.
I turned my head to look into the family room. Two intruders opened fire at me, pocking the walls and doorframe with bullets. Well, shit, they could see pretty well in the dark. I dropped to my stomach, looked back around the doorway, and unloaded half a magazine at the intruder shape that was in full view. I pulled back to safety and heard a body hit the floor out there. More gunfire erupted and automatic rounds chewed up the walls and marble flooring just outside my doorway. If I didn't move soon, one of 'em would've used a different door to the patio and come back in behind me. Not good.
I heard one of the intruders yell, "Get in there and finish them off!" He meant Cordell, the client, and the others in the study. I didn't know how many intruders were left - specifically, how many were waiting for me. Fuck it; I had to get to Cord.
Once back on my feet, I peeked out into the hallway again. By then, my eyes had fully acclimated to the darkness; the dim glow of snow that shone through the windows helped. I studied the shadows of furniture and didn't see anyone lurking. Somewhere else nearby, another burst of gunfire went off. With a gun in either hand, I charged out.
RESCUE
Bullets started flying. One intruder was between a couch and the far wall. He was closest. And stupid, too; my rounds ripped right through the cushions and into him. The Mac-11 emptied, so I dropped it. I kept moving to the right along a wall. Another guy was a few steps up the wide staircase, firing wildly. Most of his bullets hit the furniture between us. I fired back with my Glock in my right hand, pointing across my body as I moved. We were both just blasting away, hoping for a lucky shot to hit home.
A figure came quickly down the stairs behind him. It was the overcoat guy, nothing but shadow and size. Just as my Glock emptied, he gripped the intruder on both sides of his head with big hands, and twisted. I heard the grisly crack of a broken neck. The intruder slumped like a bag of bones. Overcoat guy spun and ran back up the stairs; I never did get a good look at him.
More gunfire sounded in the next hallway to my right off the main foyer, the one that led to the study. A woman screamed. I stepped over two prone bodies, a man and a woman, while trying to slap another magazine into my gun. I got to the corner of the hallway just as another gunman came out. As he raised his gun, I used the full magazine in my hand to strike him hard in the trachea. Airway crushed, he dropped his gun to grasp at his neck. While he stumbled out into the foyer making gurgling noises, I looked down the hallway.
The door to the study was riddled with bullet holes, but was shut. In front of it on the hallway floor was a body with a dark puddle forming underneath it. I moved up to near the door and knocked. A woman screamed again. I waited a couple seconds until it was quiet again in there, and then said, "Cordell, Mr. Everett, this is Leo. I'm alone. I'm coming in."
After reloading, I put my gun in my holster and turned the handle. The door wasn't locked because it didn't have one. I slowly pushed the door open and saw a large, sturdy desk lying on its side, facing me. It had a few holes in it. Over the edge of it, I saw the top half of Cordell's face, plus the gun he was pointing at me. He saw it was me and relaxed. Six people were huddled behind him, back into the corner of the room. They were all well-dressed and terrified; two of the three women were silently weeping. I noticed that Cordell had been hit in his right hip and left upper arm. The others looked unharmed.
Big Cordell had already wrapped his tie around his arm and pulled it tight in a slipknot. I scanned the room and spotted a small throw pillow, then yanked the sheer drapes away from the window. I used those to staunch his hip wound and apply pressure. While I wrapped the drapes over the pillow and around his big body, I said, "What happened here?"
"First of all," Cordell said calmly, "you're hit, and you don't look so good."
I looked down at myself. There was a hole in the arm of my leather coat - damn it - and a thin trickle of blood came out on the back of my hand from under the cuff. After I gave myself a second to calm down, I felt a burning sensation on my upper arm. Cord then gestured to my face; I wiped at my mouth and chin and felt myself smearing blood. "Nothing bad. What's the story?"
"Mr. Everett, his wife and guests were moving to the sitting room after dinner. Men came in from the garage and started shooting. I think two more came in from the back. I ran Mr. and Mrs. Everett in here, caught one in the arm. The other guests followed. Mr. Morgan and his wife were at the rear . . ." One of the women sobbed.
I tied the drapes off snugly. Cordell grimaced but didn't protest - stoic motherfucker. "Okay, then what," I prompted him.
"A gunman came in through the hallway door and fired just as I was providing cover. I returned fire; I think I hit him in the shoulder. We traded a few rounds, and then he moved off. Once they knew Mr. Everett and his wife were basically penned in here,
they left a man outside the door. I think their team went to deal with the rest of ours before coming back in force. Just before you got here, one of them started shooting through the door. I was away from cover, checking out the view from the west window, got hit again. I returned fire."
"Well, you got him, buddy. You said you think Dan is in the kitchen?"
"Yeah, he was in there when the attack came, along with the chef and one of the servers." Cordell's tone gave me a bad impression of Dan's situation.
"Okay, I'll check it out. I think it's clear out there, but I need to be sure. I don't want any more surprises."
"Can you do anything for Alan or Marie?" Everett asked. I assumed he meant Mr. and Mrs. Morgan, who were very dead.
"Sir, there may still be a threat in your home, and I can't compromise myself and do my job effectively. I have to consider everyone here. From what I saw, though . . . No, sir, I can't help them. I'm sorry." I hope he understood that I was basically saying Alan and Marie were gone and I wasn't going to get shot while trying to resuscitate corpses.
"What's the plan?" Cordell asked as he checked his weapon.
I looked at the others in the room; saw the fear in their eyes. Fear could lead to stupid reactions. I turned my eyes back to Cordell and said, "Stay here, keep them covered. Just wait for the sirens; the police should be here in just a few minutes. I have to check on Dan and Diego."
HONOR
I stepped back out into the dark, quiet hallway. The only movement I saw was the twitching foot of the intruder whose windpipe I crushed. With my gun out in front of me, I edged around the corner to my left and peeked into the big family room.
In the middle of that room, beyond the dark-stained bodies of the Morgan's, were two other figures. One of them was the newcomer - overcoat guy - sitting on a low ottoman, facing some kid. I say kid because he couldn't have been more than five feet tall, wearing a child's nylon poncho and one of those stocking caps with the ball on top. Where he came from, I had no fucking clue. The two seemed to be having a whispered conversation. I took a step out, gun trained on them, and waited to be noticed.