The Mourning Missed

by J. Don Wright

  The man on Lilly’s side of the trio succeeded in pulling his trigger and sent a spray of bullets wildly into the deepening dusk well over their heads. Lilly fired three rounds into his face from thirty feet away. Tealey unloaded on the man to his side, targeting center body mass as he’s been taught. The slugs must have hurt, pummeling the man’s body armor, but he continued bringing his weapon to bear. Gloria shot him in the forehead.

  THE PC HAD RECALLED the SWAT truck as it left the yard. Seven patrol vehicles ignored the dispatch announcement to stand down and screamed toward the Academy, sirens wailing. The gangs at the fence lines never made it through the fences. Carrying metal saws, they had intended to cut two bars out to allow their members access to the grounds.

  Pairs of gang members lay on the ground behind the fence base. They had succeeded in cutting the rods where they came out of the concrete. Every time one of them reached far enough to make a second cut, even two feet up, a withering level of AR-15 fire dissuaded them. At least two members had been shot in the arm for their troubles.

  The story was the same on all sides, the gangs weren’t getting in. Full Metal had jogged over from the west with his remaining three men and the uninjured eight members of the Crips gang to the main entrance. Intent on rushing the main building from the gate, he saw the swing arm was locked. Easing close enough behind the cover of the guard shack, he shot the lock off and swung the arm up, pinning it open.

  “Activity at the main entrance,” came an excited call from the front of the main building. “The gate is up. The sedan left there is approaching the main building at high speed. The van is right behind it.”

  “Stop those vehicles at all cost,” Carl commanded from the observation deck.

  A fusillade of bullets trashed the engine compartment of the sedan. It shuddered and bucked to a stop fifty yards from the decorative double oak doors. Four mercenaries scrambled from the car, seeking cover behind it. Four men could not hide behind the sedan effectively and one fell almost immediately to Carter’s accuracy. He had moved to the southwest corner, following the departing gang.

  The van, packed with five Skinheads and eight Crips, swerved around the sedan into the grassy infield and slid sideways on the turf. As its back tires spun, seeking traction, a rocket streaked from the second floor Commandant’s office balcony and struck the van broadside. The explosion blasted a three-foot hole in the thin sheet metal and flipped the vehicle over on its side. No one tried to crawl out.

  The Colonel’s distinct growling voice came over the radio. “Say hello to my little friend.”

  Police cars were streaming up the drive, screeching to a halt forty feet from the three crouching mercenaries. Numerous orders were yelled by more than a dozen patrol officers who crouched behind their open vehicle doors. Half of the weapons aimed at the three were 12 gage shotguns. Weapons clattered to the asphalt and all three men stood slowly. They interlaced their fingers behind their heads and leaned across the vehicle’s trunk.

  Three officers moved to cuff them while three others flanked the mercs to hold them at gunpoint. The remaining officers advanced on the overturned van, unaware they were in a direct field of fire from multiple angles. No shots were fired. When they opened the rear door of the van, it was hard at first to tell who was dead and who was just unconscious.

  The Bloods on the east fence had also been thwarted from breaching the fence. Even though they now had ample targets in the open on the driveway, the fight was out of the remaining eight who were uninjured. No threats from Blade or his men would dissuade them from running back to their vehicle and fleeing the scene. Surveying the failed assault, Blade decided he wouldn’t spend the currency of his life or his four men in a futile attempt to save his three remaining compatriots.

  “Sorry, Full Metal,” he said aloud as they moved off toward their waiting Suburban.

  Jefferson had held his men back when he saw the plan start to crumble. He now drove down the road casually until he stopped next to Blade’s vehicle. Rolling down the window, he gave them new orders.

  “Follow me around the power line service road to the back of the property. They think it’s over, especially now that they’ve got Full Metal. Burro and Mullet bought us access to the building and we’re going to take advantage of it.”

  Thirty-Three

  “KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN, people, this may not be over yet,” Simmons called over the frequency. “Status check roll call: East side.”

  “East side secure, no injuries.”

  “West side.”

  “West side secure, no injuries.”

  “Kitchen.”

  “Dining Room secure. Kitchen is contaminated, standing guard at entrance. We’re stacking tables up against the batwings to slow down access. One minor injury.”

  “State the nature of the injury.”

  “One of the attackers got off a quick burst as he went down. A bullet splintered the door frame near Sanders and she has some wood slivers in her cheek. Ballistic goggles protected her eyes. I sent her to the Dispensary.”

  “Copy, good job. Main entrance.”

  “Main entrance secure. We have two very pissed-off IAD investigators here. No one passed the word about the anticipated raid. No injuries, just a lot of broken glass.”

  “Copy, let’s get started on cleaning that up. Keep lookouts posted and don’t expose yourself to fire from the outside. Overwatch.”

  “Overwatch secure. No activity on perimeter. One minor injury, still in service. One fatality.”

  “State the nature of the injury and name of the fatality.”

  “Tealey got grazed on the arm, Nichols put a field dressing on it,” Gloria supplied. Pausing, she added in a subdued voice. “Klinger was shot in the head when he stood up after a successful kill on an enemy sniper.”

  “Copy. Continue overwatch.”

  “BLADE, SET YOUR SNIPER in that tree,” Jefferson ordered quietly, his face inches from the remaining team leader. He pointed off to the side of the back fence. “I know it’s a bad angle but we already know those trees don’t work,” he said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. They had all seen the bodies of the other team’s marksmen lying dead on the ground beneath them. “Take your squad around to the corner and take out the overwatch. They may be slack now that the shooting’s stopped.” Blade hand signaled the orders and they moved off around the perimeter in the cover of the dense forest.

  “Crosshair, find a clear place up that rise where you can see the roof. It might be four or five hundred yards, but you’ve got that, right?” Jefferson asked his best sharpshooter. At a single nod, Crosshair moved off. “We’re going in the back door as soon as we’re sure their overwatch is down,” he ordered. “I’m not waiting for Crosshair or Blade. Robinson, can you put a grenade on the roof from outside the fence?”

  “Maybe from that shed inside,” he replied, pointing to a small maintenance barn near the back fence with flammable signs posted on every side. “Not from here, the angle’s too high.”

  “Okay, as soon as you think you can get through the fence without getting tagged, you go there and start lobbing them up. Everybody, give Robinson your frags and HEs.”

  Nine grenades passed into the throwers hands and he quickly stowed them in the many pockets their uniforms offered. Looking up, Jefferson saw a man in silhouette against the fading western sky for a moment. Shadows were long across the rear lawn. “It’ll be dark in thirty minutes. Monger, move around to the corner and draw fire,” he said, pointing at the northwest fence pillar. The man trotted off into the protective woods and everyone else tensed for the moment to go.

  “MOVEMENT AT THE REAR fence, northwest corner,” Carter called out from his post on the west wall.

  All heads turned that way and Gloria quickly corrected them. “It could be a feint, everyone focus on your areas.”

  Monger stepped from behind the post and aimed at the head he saw above the west parapet. It was at least 75 yards. He knew the MAC 10 he carried was us
eless at that distance. He triggered a burst anyway and watched the head disappear as chips flew from the wall five feet below.

  “Shots fired, shots fired, west wall,” Carter exclaimed. “Shooter at the northwest corner.”

  Robinson had been watching the two people on the rear roofline for reaction to Monger’s ploy. When they both turned toward the corner, he leapt through the opening Burro’s team had cut and dashed for the shed.

  “Movement, rear fence. Intruder in the compound. I repeat, intruder in the compound behind the maintenance shed,” Nichols called on the radio net. Then his mouth fell open in stunned silence as he watched a hand grenade arc through the air directly toward him.

  “Grenade!” Tealey screamed, diving to the side and curling into a fetal position. He was praying his helmet and the body armor on his back and buttocks would protect him. Lilly had returned to the front of the building while Gloria had moved to take Klinger’s position. Now Lilly sprang once again to put the air conditioning unit between herself and the deadly device. Nichols simply stood frozen in fear and stared until the bomb exploded, shredding his body.

  Even as the device detonated, a second one was whirling through the air, headed for the same point. Tealey sprang up after the first explosion to return fire and was very quick-thinking. Gripping his rifle by the barrel like a baseball bat, he swung for the bleachers. Hitting the grenade squarely, he knocked it down toward the ground, flinching back below the parapet as it went off.

  Lilly jumped from behind the metal box and dashed for the rear edge, looking for the next fast ball. When she reached the edge, still standing erect, Monger took the opportunity to send a dozen rounds at her. Crouching, she glanced over the parapet to identify where the grenades were coming from. The next one soared from behind the center of the shed, headed for the east wall where Gloria still lay curled up in the same protective posture Tealey had assumed.

  “Gloria, behind you,” Lilly screamed as the bomb hit the roof and bounced toward her. Turning over, Gloria saw death bouncing toward her at the same time she saw Klinger’s body. Reaching out, she grabbed Klinger’s lifeless corpse and pulled it in front of her as the grenade exploded two feet away.

  Straightening up, Lilly looked at Tealey and shouted over the ringing in her ears. “Shoot the shed and keep shooting.” Both rifles opened up on the storage building. They pumped round after large-caliber, high-velocity round into the area where they guessed the thrower might be standing.

  They cycled their bolts until both locked back on empty magazines. Setting hers aside, she drew her pistol and moved back above the raised edge of the roof, intent on continuing the assault on the grenade man. “Reload,” she commanded Tealey.

  Jefferson took the opportunity to move his remaining four men through the opening and dash for the rear entrance. He could see the blackened hole the breaching charges had made. As they streaked for the building, Lilly came back above the edge. Seeing the squad charging the building, she steadied herself against the wall and targeted the lead man.

  When she fired he stumbled and fell, clutching his chest. Jefferson saw him go down and pulled his M-4 up toward her just as she dropped back out of sight. Tealey threw the barrel of his rifle over the edge and fired at the shed again.

  A blast of super-compressed air and heat swept the three charging men off their feet and flung them bodily against the rear of the building. The blast flung prep tables and scattered small appliances across the kitchen at high speed. The tables which had been stacked against the batwing doors were shoved tumbling into the room. None of the team inside was in the direct line of the blast but all of them suffered concussion trauma.

  Blade’s sniper was incinerated in the tree by the fireball from the exploding building just as he was getting situated to kill everyone on the roof. Blade’s squad was thrown off their feet and scorched by the same inferno, as was Monger where he stood behind the fence pillar. Lilly and Tealey were tripped up by the impact to the building but protected from the brunt of the blast by the parapet. The only person unaffected was Crosshair. He took this as a sign that it was time for him to move on.

  LILLY’S HEAD WAS POUNDING and her ears were ringing. A distant voice, annoying at first, kept repeating the same thing. “Report. Kitchen, report. Overwatch, report. Any station, report. Kitchen, can you hear me? Report. Overwatch...” it was really irritating, especially as all she wanted to do was take a nap. Finally, the buzzing voice registered and she keyed her radio.

  “Command, Jackson. The maintenance barn exploded. There was a guy throwing hand grenades from behind it. We were shooting through it trying to stop him. Nichols is dead, a grenade killed him. Gloria is...oh, my God; Gloria,” and she was scrambling to her feet.

  Staggering across the surface of the roof, which seemed to buck and pitch like a ship in a tempest, Lilly stumbled to her mentor’s side. Gloria’s eyes were closed and she feared the worst. When she placed a hand on her chest, she felt it rise. Moving to her face, she searched the unconscious form for injuries but found none; no blood and no visible damage.

  “Gloria?” Lilly called softly at first, and then with more fervor. “Gloria? Can you hear me?” Fearful of moving her because of neck or back injury, she patted her face softly. “Gloria?” But there was no response. Keying her microphone again, she reported. “Command, Gloria, Sgt Andersen is alive but unresponsive. Tealey is up and moving, assessment incomplete. Carter is headed toward me and also seems to be unharmed.”

  “Lilly, did you say the maintenance shed exploded?” She recognized Carl’s island accent through the ringing and roaring in her head.

  “Yes, right after we shot through it several times to stop the man throwing grenades at us. What was in the building?” Lilly finished.

  “The shed is used to store propane cylinders for the grills which students use on the weekends. Also, gasoline for the grounds keeping equipment and other flammables like paint, solvents, cleaners, and what-have-you,” Carl supplied.

  “Well, it all went boom,” Lilly replied.

  Thirty-Four

  “I’M GOING INTO THE city to find Mitchell and put an end to all this,” Lilly stated bluntly when she managed to make her way down the two flights of stairs.

  “You’re in no condition to go anywhere, let alone into another possible gunfight,” the Commandant argued.

  “Then come with me, unless these two fine gentlemen want to detain you,” she said, looking at the IAD men.

  Both shook their heads and continued to stare at the floor. They were nursing straight whiskeys, as were the vast majority of everyone still standing except the officers on duty who had responded to the all call. Those officers had managed most of the arrests of those mercenaries and gang members who weren’t unconscious or seriously injured.

  Nine ambulances had been needed to carry away all the injured attackers with a police officer inside as well. Many of them were unresponsive, as was Sgt Andersen. The MEs office was still collecting and processing the dead.

  “You don’t even know where he is,” Hollister said flatly.

  “I’ll start at Central and go from there,” Lilly replied just as flatly.

  “I’m not going to dissuade you, am I?” he asked kindly.

  “No sir, you’re not,” she replied with the ghost of a smile on her smudged and tear-streaked face. She had wept openly when she had thought Gloria might be fatally injured, and just from the stress of the entire ordeal.

  “Maybe I can,” Phillip walked in on crutches. His face had butterfly bandages over one eye and on the opposite cheek. There was a tri-fold bandage tied across the top of his head. His left leg was in an air cast.

  “No, but maybe you might know where to find him. I’m sure he’s already cut and run, given the events of the last two days.”

  “I know his home address,” Phillip said, fishing a notepad from his blood-stained shirt.

  “Let’s take my vehicle,” the Colonel suggested.

  AT CENTRAL, THE DESK s
ergeant informed Colonel Hollister that First Sergeant Mitchell had been on medical leave for two days and wasn’t expected back until the following week. Walking out, she handed him the address Phillip had scribbled on a page of his notepad. “I don’t know the city as well as you do; I hope.”

  “I know right where this is,” he replied. It’s a little pricey neighborhood, even for a First Sergeant.”

  When they reached the neighborhood, Lilly stopped the Commandant a block away. “I’d rather walk up and reconnoiter than just pull up out front,” she explained. “We don’t know if he has any more hired help in the house.”

  Nodding, he parked the big SUV and walked across the street. “Less obvious than the two of us walking up together,” he observed. “Plus, you’re a lot spryer than I.”

  At the residence on the address, two vehicles were parked in the driveway and one at the curb. When Lilly crept alongside the building, she found a stockade fence with a padlocked gate. Peering through the narrow gap between the gate and the fence post, she saw a large pool surrounded on two visible sides by a rock garden. At the end was what appeared to be a massage table. Unable to see in any of the windows because of her height, she walked back toward the front of the house. At the corner, she was met by a large man with a Desert Eagle dangling at his side.

  “Mitch wants to see you inside,” he said evenly.

  “After you,” Lilly replied, smiling her ice queen image.

  “No, ladies first; I insist,” he said, waving her along with the pistol.

  Inside, Hank was seated on a plush brocade camelback sofa in a sunken den with western paintings and statuary prevalent throughout. He cradled a snifter of amber liquid in his left hand and was petting a white Persian cat with his right. The cat’s purring could be heard all around the room.