by Eric M Hill
The chief finally reluctantly let go of the man’s neck and punctuated his assault with, “If anything has happened to my family, I will come back here and stomp your very soul out of your body!” He looked up from one knee and pointed at a camera. “And that goes for every one of you in Control! You better pray that my family is safe!”
His hand and pointing finger trembled with rage.
“I think they understand you, Chief. Especially this guy. Now about those guns?”
Chief King’s Marine Corps training took over. Disciplined calm replaced his fury. “Remember I asked you if you still ran?”
“Yeah.”
King stood up and said calmly, “Time to run,” and took off down the hallway. Anderson joined the sprint.
An elevator opened and two men in suits stepped off and into the path of Chief King. They faced the other way. King hurled his big body into one of the men. The guy went sprawling several yards, with King landing on top of him. The second man was shocked immobile for a few seconds as he looked at the big man punch his partner in the face. He reached inside for his gun when he felt something crash into him. In a moment, he and his partner were laid out unconscious.
King took the gun from the man he had tackled, and his two extra magazines. Anderson did the same and stood up. “These are the guns you ordered?” said Anderson.
“Was that elaborate enough for you?”
“I’ve always respected the Marines,” said Anderson, “but now just a little bit more.”
“I’ve got some Marines at the house who need backup.”
“Let’s go,” said Anderson.
Chapter 63
All outdoor and indoor lights of the King property were off. Clouds covered the night sky, preventing the moon’s light.
Ten-year-old Lauren surveilled the darkened back property of the house with her night vision goggles from upstairs. Eight-year-old Autumn was upstairs, too. She watched the front of the property.
Ana was downstairs on one knee looking at the portable surveillance system in her hand. She adjusted her view by using her finger to move the screen to the left. She continued to do so until she’d completed a 360-degree view of the house. Nothing was amiss. Nonetheless, she folded the screen and slid the device into a pocket. Technology was invaluable. But it was like a running back’s blocker. Good blocking didn’t mean the guy with the ball didn’t have to do his own running.
She flipped one of the night vision goggle lids down, leaving one up for natural vision. A tactic to prevent the momentary blindness of a bright light suddenly coming on and overwhelming both eyes with amplified light. Her strong hands gripped the short, Israeli rifle as she walked stealthily through the house ready for anything technology may have missed. She had the semi-automatic rifle set to three-round bursts.
Marine Corp defensive combat tactics included both hasty and deliberate defense. Hasty defense was when the defending force did its best to set up defenses while it was engaged with the enemy, or when engagement was imminent. Under these less than ideal circumstances, it was assumed that the enemy would see your preparations and execute or adjust the attack accordingly.
Deliberate defense was the first choice of any defender. In this scenario, the defenders were not in contact with the enemy or threatened with imminent contact. So time was available to maximize all assets, and to adjust for asset deficiencies. Part of maximizing assets was the optimal deployment of forces.
Six-year-old Tracy was optimally deployed.
Her thoughts went back to her errant shot at the predator in the back yard. She took her stuffed brother by both shoulders and placed him on her lap, facing her. She bunched up her little nose in anger and said to the large, pink teddy bear soldier, “Lance Corporal Teddy, are you with me? Good. This Marine won’t miss again.” She put her nose next to the bear’s nose and whispered with an edge, “Sem—per Fiiiii.”
***
Ana watched the street lights go out. All of them. The entire street had gone dark. Attack is imminent! she thought. The girls had been trained for pre-attack preparations by the enemy. She knew Autumn would pick up on the lights going out and tell her sister.
She scurried to a crouching position, her rifle’s barrel facing the front door, ready to greet the enemy with a three-round burst. Actions, options, and reactions hurled through her mind like the violent winds of a hurricane. Yet at the center of the storm was the calm of training. She thought of the windows without looking at them and without taking her finger off the trigger. She waited.
And waited.
Five minutes later she heard a siren. Then another.
Her senses heightened even more. Distraction. Misdirection of focus. Enemy strike. Distraction duly noted, but there would be no misdirection of focus. The Marines at 2282 Wilshire Lane were well schooled in this tactic.
Ana made her way to a window. A fire truck approaching from the right. She looked left. A fire truck coming from the opposite direction. Interesting. The closest fire station was two miles east. Why would trucks come from the east and west?
Bad mistakes, sometimes deadly mistakes were made when you assumed a possibly bad scenario wasn’t bad. She tossed the innocent idea that the truck approaching from the west had been already out when the call came. So why’d you really come from the west? she thought.
It stopped in front of the Brooks’ home. One hundred and twenty meters away. Figures got off both trucks. They moved with deliberateness, but not urgency. Mental assessment done.
It was a popular misconception among the public that the sole job of a sniper was to neutralize targets. It wasn’t. The forgotten and less glamorous job of a sniper was specialized and highly skilled reconnaissance. Close range and dangerous reconnaissance. Thus, the official name United States Marine Corps Scout Sniper.
The situation didn’t require a sniper’s bullet—yet. It required a scout’s eyes. Ana studied the movements of the men. They’d knock on a door, and shortly thereafter her neighbors’ garage doors would open and their car would hurry away. What was going on? She noticed one of the men had a long ponytail under his hat. Interesting. Time for the ghost to get up close and personal.
If Ana’s preliminary assessment was correct, they were only minutes away from full engagement with the enemy. She ran up the stairs two at a time, saying, “It’s Mom. I gotta go out and do some recon, girls. Lauren, stay on the back window. Autumn, come help Mommy. Get me my small utility bag.”
Less than three minutes later a woman other than Ana exited the back door carrying a rifle and wearing a small backpack. She sprinted across the back yard, cleared the tall wooden fence, and disappeared into the trees.
***
“Nice hair. What’s going on?” asked the woman.
A long ponytail whipped around at the unexpected female voice beside him. The predator’s eyes went instinctively to the dark-haired woman’s attractive face before being irresistibly drawn by his animal instinct down to her long bare legs, up to her exposed flat belly, and landing on her full shirt. But the demon within him was as excited for what covered her arm as he was for the clothes that didn’t cover her flesh. She wore an arm splint. And the cherry on top was she leaned on a cane.
Well, well, well, what do we have here? he thought. A long-legged cripple with one good arm. And dressed like that. Why, she’s asking for it.
Chapter 64
“Gas leak. We gotta get everybody out of here,” said the predator, his urge demanding action. Drag her behind a house? Knock her out right here? No, these animals will want some. His mind reluctantly snapped back onto track. Anger rose in his belly as business pushed itself into his thoughts. They weren’t there to rape. They were there to kill. He cursed inside at the dark conflict.
“Gas?” gasped Ana. “Oh, I knew it had to be something like that when I saw you guys.” She made like she was going for her house—the Hollowman’s home actually. They were in Maine. She grimaced and grabbed her hip. “Look, can I ask you a favor? It�
��s a bit embarrassing. I wouldn’t ask you if you weren’t used to this kind of thing.”
The predator felt something good and dirty about to happen. He barely kept the smile off his unshaven face. “Your taxes pay my salary. What can I do for you?”
Ana feigned embarrassment. “I had an accident. Got banged up pretty good.” She hesitated. “No, I can make it. I’m sorry for bugging you. You’ve got a job to do.” She again made like she was going to walk away.
The predator wasn’t about to let his steak hobble away. “No, really,” he said. “It’s no problem. What you need?”
Ana opened her mouth with a smile and gave an expression as though she had gathered the courage to risk embarrassment. “Okay.” Pause. “I don’t want the place to blow up while I’m hobbling around. I know it’s too much to ask you to come in and help me get a few things. My husband’s out of town. But would you mind helping me to my house? It’s just right there. We’d have to go around the back. We’re reflooring the foyer.” She shook her head as though it was a crazy request and wanted to take it all back.
The predator couldn’t believe his luck. Christmas in September? “No, no, no, no, no. It’s no problem. Really. You’re right. We can’t leave you to yourself with your leg like that.”
“Really?” said Ana.
“Yeah. Tell you what. Give me your cane.”
She did.
He bent down. “Hop on my back.”
Ana looked surprised. “You’re going to carry me?”
“We do this all the time,” he said. “I’m a fireman.”
“Serious?” said Ana. “I’m heavier than I look.”
The predator smiled. “I’m two hundred and twenty pounds of muscle. I can handle you,” he said, with an undercurrent of malice.
Ana smiled. “Then I’m in good hands.” She hopped on his back and wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders.
He handed her the cane and bounced her up farther on his back, unnecessarily gripping her thighs in the process and keeping them there, enjoying their fullness in his hands. He wanted to go up higher, but kept his hands where they were. He couldn’t let his excitement get the better of him. He didn’t want anything to go down before he got her around the back of the house. But for the love of Satan, this woman had a body on her! His walk quickened until it bordered on a trot. He needed to get her across the street before any of the animals he was with saw them. He wasn’t in the mood for sharing. The cripple was all his.
His filthy hands on her bare legs could have made her want to throw up. They didn’t. This was war. It was combat. The combat world of a United States Marines Scout Sniper wasn’t big enough for both emotions and mission accomplishment. That’s why emotions were the first thing Ana shot through the heart before a mission.
“You have strong hands,” she said.
They were across the street and alongside the Hollowman’s home. Her words raced down his belly and into his groin. He couldn’t get to that backyard fast enough. Lust made his mouth move involuntarily. “You have strong legs.”
You’re going to see how strong they are, predator, she thought. “Thank you. I do a lot of squats. They’re really good for my legs and butt.”
This whore was driving him in—sane! Yeah, he thought, well I’m going to find that out for myself. The predator saw his spot. He passed the Hollowman’s back door to their right and hurried toward the dark mattress of grass he’d chosen. He prepared to throw her off his back.
That’s when the one-armed, crippled whore on his back dropped the cane and wrapped her right leg around his torso, cupping her right foot under the back of her left leg and squeezed. It was like a wide metal belt had just been tightened six notches too tight around his waist.
Simultaneously, her right arm sank deep under his neck and the inside fold of her arm pressed hard against his throat, specifically his trachea, or windpipe, as it is called. But at this moment, he would not have called it a windpipe. For the crushing pressure of the whore’s iron arm had cut off all air.
The shocked predator’s hands went to the woman’s arm under his neck. He pulled and pulled. Not. One. Centimeter. Of relief. He reached for her face. She pulled her head back as he grabbed handfuls of nothing. The predator’s grimaced face and rolling eyes told the story. This whore was strangling him.
His vision narrowed. He knew he had to do something quick. He jumped in the air backwards. They landed hard. There should have been at least a momentary loosening of her grip around his throat as he knocked the wind out of her. Immediately, however, he knew he was only moments from death. The witch’s grip hadn’t loosened. It had gotten tighter!
Panic set in. His watering eyes fluttered. He rolled to his left onto his belly. She was still there. He rolled again. Still there. He rolled again and again. His mind started floating, seeing things. A giant snake was wrapped around a large animal, squeezing the life out of it. The animal had a man’s face. His.
The predator’s eyes closed. His body went limp.
Ana stopped squeezing. She didn’t want him dead. Dead men didn’t talk.
Chapter 65
Ana rolled off the predator and jumped to her feet in a crouch in one fluid movement. She grabbed his ankles and pulled him closer to the fence, his open mouth raking the grass as she pulled. She pulled out the heavy-duty plastic ties from her shorts pocket and secured his wrists behind his back and slipped another tie through the one on his wrists. She then put a tie around his ankles and similarly looped another one through it.
Next, she pulled his legs up backwards and pushed her shoulders into them. Now that his body was bowed backwards, she looped another tie through the ties hanging from his wrists and ankles. He was now hog-tied. It took all of seventeen seconds.
Ana felt the back of his pants and pulled his wallet out. She looked through it and put it back in his pocket. Then she ran to the far corner of the yard and got the utility bag she had pre-positioned. She dropped the bag next to the predator and turned him over onto his back. She planted her feet on both sides of him and sat on his belly and put the smelling salt under the unconscious predator’s nostrils. His head jerked, eyes still closed but fluttering. They didn’t open quick enough.
SLAP!
His eyelids pulled back. For a moment, nothing made sense. Then it did—sort of. Fury erupted inside of the predator. You witch! I’m gonna— His murderous thoughts hit a brick wall when he tried to jump up. He couldn’t move! This…this…whore, or whoever she was had choked him unconscious and had tied him up.
The predator’s eyes glared. His face twisted in rage. “You—”
Ana raised herself from her squat position on his belly and slammed the bottom of her shoe against his face, cutting his planned tirade short. She straddled his belly. That’s when he saw what was in her hand. A knife.
“AIP. Accelerated Interrogation Program. You’re in it. Rule one. Make a sound above a whisper and I slit your throat and get one of your brothers out there to take your place,” she lied. He was going to cooperate, and she didn’t have time to get another predator. “Understand?”
“Yeah.”
“That was too loud.” She covered his mouth with her hand and put the knife’s blade just beneath his ear and pressed. Ana slowly brought it down to his Adam’s apple while staring coldly into his terrified eyes. She let some of the blood drip onto her fingers and lifted her hand and rubbed her fingers together. “This is your blood. This time you get a scar. Next time you get eternity. Understand?”
“Yes,” the predator whispered.
Gain control over the subject by getting him to offer a truth. “What’s your name?”
“Manny.”
Don’t make any threats you’re not prepared to carry out. If you do, you lose control. “Predator, two things. If your name isn’t Manny, I slit your throat. If you don’t have an ID that says your name is Manny, I slit your throat.”
“My wallet. It’s in there. I got ID.” His words were anxious, like
he was running out of time. He was.
Ana put the knife to his throat and pressed. “Roll to your side.”
He did.
She checked his ID, tossed his wallet, and rolled him to his back. “Why are you here?”
“To kill the people who live at 2282.”
Don’t ask, Ana, she told herself, but she couldn’t resist. “All of them?”
“Yeah, all of them.”
Ana saw the line. The warning lights and sirens of her moral compass were flashing red and blaring loudly. He was a predator, yeah. He had planned to rape her, probably kill her, too. Heck, he and this goon squad were there to kill her. To kill her and her husband and her…
Ana couldn’t think the horrible thought. But she had thought it. The thought overwhelmed her spirit, soul, and body and came out of her pores. This predator was here to kill her girls. She felt something other than mission accomplishment trying to take control.
She felt emotion.
Hatred. Burning, vengeful hatred.
Ana looked down at the predator. Her mind took her there. She saw herself making sure this predator never hurt anyone again. But he was restrained. She’d have to murder him. She wasn’t a murderer. She was a Marine.
But this monster is here to kill my little girls.
The predator saw the argument in her eyes. He had to say something now or this crazy woman was going take his head off. “Look…lady, I don’t know what this is about. I’m just doing what I was told. It’s not like I had a choice.”
“How many of you are there?”
“I don’t know. I think twelve.”
“Including yourself?”