by Paul Kirk
“Depending on how they react to a woman running in their midst, you might gain another two or three seconds.”
“That’s an advantage, right?”
“Yeah, I’m sure Mac sees it that way, too.”
“Good. I’ll take what I can get.”
“Sure, but remember, a key concern is them doors. If those doors are locked, you’re screwed.”
“Yeah, I thought about that. I figure I’ll deal with that when I arrive, shoot the glass if I have to.”
“I see. Living large and on the fly are we?”
“Just hoping they don’t slow me down too much. Gotta go.”
Marty studied the tense set to Amanda’s shoulders and her fierce determination. He knew she was anxious to begin before her fear of mission failure overtook her desire to finish the job. He visualized the success of the mission; giving her the best recommendation he had, given the circumstances.
“Make sure you reload on the fly.”
Amanda smiled, grateful for his confidence.
“Will do, Marty. And, thanks.”
“You sure you want to do this? This mission is much more my cup of tea.”
Amanda struggled to keep her calm composure.
“I know. Usually. But, today, you're busted up and I need to do it. I can do it. Besides…I know you got my back.”
“Dammit! I know Mac supports your plan. And, I’ll tell ya, after spending time with you two and seeing what you’re capable of, my gut says you’d probably be safer in there if you get in…but, can you believe this shit?”
“Safer in there?”
“Yeah, like there’s going to be a whole lot of hurting outside that building when we disrupt their attack.”
“Oh. I see.”
“Make sure you make it to Youngstown to that #1 Furnace, if you end up lost in all this happy horseshit.”
“I will.”
“Bring that female president along if you can. I’d love to see her.”
“Will do.”
“A female president, can you believe it? And, knowing Mac, we’ll probably wait no more than four or five days max at the furnace before we head on east.”
“We have to do something to save the president.”
Amanda glanced toward the window, watching more men massing on both sides of the building, practically streaming into position.
“Well? What’re you waiting for?”
Loaded for infiltration and reconnaissance, Amanda touched each of her weapons taking inventory. Satisfied, she held her Remington 30.06 at ready with a seven-inch Gerber strapped to her thigh. A six-inch Kershaw hung on a small leather strap dangling between her shoulder blades. The .45 Smith & Wesson and two magazines wrapped tightly in cloth and tucked in her right pocket gave her an added measure of reassurance.
“I’m gone…”
In seconds, Amanda slipped on her night vision goggles and disappeared down the stairwell. Marty turned to the window and slipped on his own game face. Serious killing time had arrived once again. He truly relished the distraction and a protective urge for Amanda washed his mind clean of any hesitation. He no longer noticed his knee pain. He stroked his trigger guard and settled into firing position.
He whispered. "For Sarah."
CHAPTER 6.13-Hostile Contact
“We’ve have a highly probable hostile contact confirmed, colonel,” said Major O’Malley.
He entered the command center without knocking, catching Colonel Starkes rising from her chair. Calmly, she set a Cleveland map aside. Alert and ready, she waited for his update, despite tired and bloodshot eyes.
“Details.” She sipped the last dregs of her coffee.
“Lieutenant McDonald stationed near the ‘copter caught several men sneaking tight beneath the overhang approaching the front doors. Swore he saw one man with an RPG.”
“Wow. Phoenix kept a few RPGs in reserve?”
“I believe Tim.”
“Scouts?”
“Dispatched. They’re squeezing out the back entrance to circle around. We’ll know in a few minutes.”
“Tell Shamus to power up. I know it’s what you want.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Show us your magic, major. Keep us safe at this country dance and take it to ‘em if they deserve it.”
“It’d be my pleasure, ma’am. I’ve sent a four-man advance team to the top of the escalators facing the front entrance doors. Mickey’s lead. They’re loaded for bear.”
“Good choice.”
CHAPTER 6.14-Engage
“We move right now, team!” said Connor.
Gathered near, they responded with purpose. The fire and intensity in Connor’s eyes expected no less and they would not disappoint.
“We’re seven minutes out from the biggest firefight of your life! Snuff and Surf Boy are in serious danger. The president and her men are in danger. Let’s move it!”
As one, the team abandoned any stealthy approach, rushing toward the warehouse at a full sprint. They arrived a few minutes after the serious shooting started. And, the RPGs going off near the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame lit up the sky, so their final travel to the warehouse was relatively well lit.
CHAPTER 6.15-Full Sprint
Amanda slipped near the concrete planter gearing up for her mad sprint to the doors. She thought of her time spent as a one hundred-meter hurdler in college, settling into a familiar position that would transfer all energy into a huge burst of forward momentum. Bluish light from a few spot lamps placed haphazardly near the front doors made it easier to see especially using night goggles.
“Shit. Oh, shit…”
Nervous but engaged, she barely blinked when a man’s head exploded to her left near the entrance doors of the Hall of Fame.
“Go time,” she mumbled.
At that signal, she sprinted full force, while the dead man dropped the RPG. Stunned, the men nearby flinched at the spatter of blood and the reverberating sound of a sniper round. Already halfway to the main doors, Amanda spotted a rusty-haired man recovering from the initial onslaught. He turned and crouched, taking fast aim with his assault rifle.
“Crap!”
In a blur of sound, she heard two quick shots echo from high and behind, the last sound registering simultaneously in the collapse of the man. Crumpling backwards as she blurred past, Amanda noticed the deep hole ripped through his right cheek.
“Go. Go! Dammit!” she yelled to herself.
Ten yards out from the front doors, Amanda critically assessed the area behind the big glass windows, seeing at least four big men with guns hustling inside the building complex to settle in at the top of the escalators. These men were taking up position to defend the main front doors using overturned furniture, metal desks or cabinets on the second level. Uneasy at her present exposure, Amanda hoped they were tracking or would discover her approach.
“Oww!” Amanda yelped in sudden pain.
A serious sting sliced the outside of her left thigh; she nearly stumbled to the ground. Glancing back, she refocused when several men tumbled down hard from a furious flurry of sniper rounds. Intuitively, Amanda held her 30.06 high up in the air above her head, as she scrambled toward the doors. Hands nowhere near the trigger, she slowed and slammed into the main doors.
“Help! Help!”
Quickly scrabbling for the door handle, she found it unlocked. Unbelievably, she dragged the door open with an adrenaline-charge pull, slamming it into its stop with a brutal echo, heard above the increasing gunfire. Time measured in milliseconds, she expected to take a vicious hit from one of the four visible guards atop the escalators. Calmly, she yelled.
“Get the president to safety! You’re under attack!”
Another medium caliber bullet from behind her slipped hard into her left side, just below the shoulder blade. A third bullet snapped her head forward as the bullet creased the left side of her head, traveling above her ear. Amanda collapsed in a heap, but not before stumbling a few more steps toward t
he escalators. Quickly losing consciousness, she yelled a few more words.
“Connor Mac...leave...”
The world turned black for Amanda.
CHAPTER 6.16-All Force Necessary
“We’re under attack! From the warehouse behind us!” yelled Boris, captain of Phoenix’s Fourth Pride Brigade, “Fall back! Find the source in that warehouse! Move! Move!”
“Dammit, Franky’s down!” yelled the man next to him.
“Bobby’s hit! Shit, he’s dead!” said another man fifty feet further down the line. Men crouched, hidden near the left front walls. The snipers hidden in the warehouse certainly were productive. And pretty damn selective.
“Find those snipers! I thought Ghost and Simpson were over there!”
Men clamored behind what little cover was available. A well-armed team of sixteen men burst from their position near the right side of the building to cross the open area in an attempt to enter the warehouse. In the process, three men of the infamous Fourth Brigade dropped in brutal, rubbery fashion. Another man went down headfirst into the concrete near the doors, but the remaining twelve men slipped into position, bursting through the ground floor doors.
“Upstairs!”
At the same time, several other twenty-man half brigades from the Third and Second moved smoothly toward the front doors of the Hall of Fame across the way, intent on achieving their mission objective, trying to maintain at least some last vestiges of surprise.
“In the doors! Move!”
From his vantage point on the east side of the target building, Commander Larry Reed took calm measure of the situation. Clearly, he accepted surprise was no longer an option for the Pride brigades. But, despite this, he was determined to move fast and with full force. Snatching his radio, he instructed all Pride brigades to attack without mercy, forcefully reminding them to preserve the ‘copter, Starkes and the woman, as well as the pilot and child, if in fact there was a child. His radio was ablaze with chatter, but eventually each brigade confirmed position and instructions.
“Take down is now! Repeat. Takedown is now! Use all force necessary.”
With satisfaction, he studied their sharp response. The front entrance of the Hall of Fame swarmed with a blistering rampage of shooting men. Some, Larry noticed, dropped hard from bullets coming from inside, but, it was inevitable with such a surging mass that a breach would be successful. Instinctively, Larry ducked when a sniper round hit the bricks near his ear, way too close for comfort. Barely escaping death, he smiled at the impending devastation his men were unleashing.
CHAPTER 6.17-Mickey at the Doors
“We got shit going down,” said Mickey. He crouched behind the overturned desk near the up escalators. Edgars beside him, Mickey tracked Rice and Burroughs setting up at the down escalators positioned in similar fashion. Surprised to hear gunfire right when they settled into position, their casual conversation ceased and they responded as experienced professionals. In fact, at the sound of the second sniper round hitting a target near the door, Mickey smiled, glancing toward the other three men.
“It’s ‘bout fuckin’ time for some action, don’t you think?”
“Hoorah!”
“Shamus and the major were dead-ass right. A takedown attempt is comin’,” yelled Edgars.
“Hey man, check it out!” Burroughs pointed toward the front doors.
A young, raven-haired woman burst through at speed with her weapon held high above her head, night vision goggles bouncing at her neck. She yelled something that had yet to take hold while each man took aim ready to shoot. That is, until the young woman took a hit from behind and nearly slammed onto the marble floor. Granted, this slowed their trigger fingers. But, hearing her last words prompted Mickey and each man to spring into decisive action.
“Burroughs, call it in! Edgars, Rice, cover me. There’s a swarm of men comin’ around from each side, full assault! Take it to im! Burroughs! Let’s grab this woman, now!”
The men responded without delay. They were an experienced and combat hardened team who only came alive in situations such as these.
“Captain, full scale attack! Front entrance. Happening now. Confirm! Over.” yelled Burroughs into the radio.
Burroughs ran to assist Mickey, providing a blaze of cover fire.
“Understood. Report.”
“In excess of fifty men visible, well-armed. Efforts are coordinated, repeat, coordinated. East and west approaches. Full front entrance breach. Repeat. Front entrance breach. Hostiles are operating under orders and with purpose. Over.”
“Roger that. Squad dispatched to your position. Over.”
“Roger. Might need the help.”
Edgars and Rice took easy aim at the first batch of men approaching the entrance. With extensive combat experience guiding each round, they carefully selected targets as fast as the sights lined up; ammo was expended at a prodigious rate. Glass broke around them as all front windows shattered from bullets coming from everywhere.
“Take ‘em. Take ‘em all,” yelled Mickey.
He ignored the blood dripping from his left arm. Into the firefight, Mickey was first to reach Amanda, grabbing her roughly by the collar. At the grasp, his fingers recognized a bulletproof vest beneath and he held out some slim hope for the woman’s survival. Pulling hard, he dragged her lithe frame toward the escalators, the only way up to the second floor. His blood dripped into her hair to mingle with her blood oozing from a bullet wound that might’ve simply grazed her skull. One could hope, but based on the copious blood, Mickey was not so sure. Keeping cover fire, Rice sprayed the front entrance, taking down several men every few seconds. Burroughs stopped to snatch up the woman’s dropped rifle, though not sure why.
“C’mon! Go!”
In short fashion, Mickey carried Amanda to the top of the escalators, tossing her behind the desk. Leaving her there in a heap untouched, he joined the firefight more directly, killing at least ten men as they sought entrance through shattered windows. Immediately, Burroughs relayed current sit-rep to command, relating what the young woman had spoken. Mickey tossed a grenade at the front doors while Rice and Edgars did the same in a delayed dispersal pattern that only seasoned team members working as one knew how to unleash.
“Captain, we got a woman claiming the attack was planned. Might've said something about Connor Mac and us leaving immediately. Over.”
“Say again, over.”
“We got a woman who got shot busting through the front doors! She’s yelling that we’re under attack. Says the name Connor MacMillen. Said we should leave now! Over.”
Upstairs in the command center, Major O’Malley and Colonel Starkes digested the news. Radio chatter from assigned sniper positions on the top floor reported fast and hard killing of hostile targets close to the building at a pace that would require more available ammo on hand. Repeatedly, they were requesting delivery of a fresh full weapon cache; numerous incoming scout reports from the rear of the building suggested in excess of 400 well-armed men were converging on the premises in very short fashion.
“Dammit!” yelled Major O’Malley.
Calmly, Colonel Starkes evaluated options. With a slight smile, she glanced at the major. “Tell all men to pull back to the ‘copter and immediately prep to leave. Primary defense is the bird and our ability to get on it to leave, major. Understood?”
“Ma’am?”
“Connor MacMillen almost made it in time, but did graciously provide a warning that all was not as it seemed.”
“I see. Yes, ma’am.”
“You and Shamus get a gold star on your forehead today, major.”
“Well, umm—”
“Ready full evac, major. Move it. But, and I repeat, but, make sure you extract our scouts and that courageous woman of Connor MacMillen’s. I want all onto that bird with Nicole and CJ, pronto.”
“Understood.”
“I want that new woman…be damn sure to keep her the hell alive. If we don’t, there’ll be some serio
us hell to pay.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Move it people!”
CHAPTER 6.18-Brace for Impact
Marty heard the men coming hard up the warehouse stairs. Furious at feeling trapped, he took up final position in his third floor hideout near the far end of the long room. He tried to position himself and stay hidden below a window that led to the roof. A short, but difficult hoist onto the gutter above might buy him further time before one of the pissed off tangos caught up with him. Calmly, he prepped the window for faster exit, slamming it open. Looking around furiously, he dragged two more fifty-five gallon drums into his defensive arrangement. Reflectively, he held small hope that he’d be able to safely exit the window in time, since the armed party of men was nearly upon him. Grimacing hard and highly pissed at his unfortunate predicament, he prepped his Colt, aiming at the door twenty feet away. The first tango peeked into the room, but went down hard after a well-placed .45 bullet pierced his ear.
“Hold up!” yelled a strong voice hidden in the hallway.
Further action stopped. Marty heard the same deep voice whispering decisive orders; they were assessing the best tactical assault approach. Figuring a flashbang might be coming, Marty braced himself. At floor level and near the door for a quick peek, a dark face stole a glance into the room. More whispers ensued. Figuring as much, Marty was ready for the peek, sending a bullet within inches of the face. Gathering a fatalistic resolve, Marty prepared to succumb to their enormous firepower. Optimally, he figured he’d have maybe twenty or thirty more seconds before his last ditch effort to hightail it to the roof; he used his radio for what he truly believed was the last time.
CHAPTER 6.19-Last Stand
“Mac, I’m honed in on the third floor. Based on sounds, I’d say ‘bout ten plus men are ready to take me out, over.”
“We’re here! Comin’ in east entrance behind them. Saw ‘em enter. Be there in a few. Hang tight until then. Expend all ammo! Keep them at bay. Over.”