Broken Shield

by Ryan Garner

  “Griffin 165, go ahead.” The thudding sound of helicopter blades could be heard in the background.

  “Authority NGP 1300, neutralize RPG nest.” Lieutenant Fearon said in a deadpanned voice.

  “Copy that…”

  ….

  The fierce and massive crowd sprinted up the street, through the pouring rain, and towards the greatly outnumbered officers. The debris from the destroyed Humvees had just begun to fall back to the earth when both of Wilmington’s SABLE units broke off from their circling positions. Unarmed, civilian helicopters would be helpless against Rocket Propelled Grenades and whatever else the rioters had managed to obtain.

  As the angry mob rapidly advanced on the front lines a National Governing Police Black Hawk helicopter traveling well below the skyline of the surrounding buildings quickly flew over the awaiting police units. Its altitude was low enough that the propwash from its rotor blades could easily be felt by everyone beneath it. After covering the open distance between the two merging forces in an instant and as it approached the building where the Rocket Propelled Grenades had been launched; it rose while rotating its fuselage sideways to expose an NGP Officer manning an M134 Minigun.

  ….

  “Stand your ground men!!!”

  “Steady!!!”

  “Hold your lines!!!”

  “Steady!!!”

  Sergeant Jeremiah Maldonado, commander of Squad 2 of the Mobile Field Force shouted from his centralized location just behind his line of officers. Almost simultaneously after issuing his commands an NGP helicopter quickly passed overhead, presumably headed towards the RPG Nest. The combination of the downward wind and rain caused a stinging sensation on his exposed skin. Even though Maldonado was not directly on the front line he still clutched his Plexiglas riot shield tightly. In just seconds the mob would be on top of them; he could hear the hollow popping sounds of M-32 grenade launchers as other Wilmington officers and National Guardsmen launched tear gas and stun grenades into the onrushing crowd. The flying projectiles left trails of white smoke in the sky indicating their trajectory.

  Suddenly, from the front line an officer’s shield burst into flames as it was struck by a Molotov Cocktail; the gasoline poured down the Plexiglas shield creating a large fireball. The officer released the riot shield, tossing it out in front of him and allowing it to fall to the ground. He was then pulled back into the mass of officers and was quickly replaced by a National Guardsman with an undamaged shield.

  Almost immediately after the firebombing began Sergeant Maldonado noticed that all forms of debris had begun to rain down on them. Bricks, bottles, anything the violent crowd could get its hands on were being thrown towards the awaiting officers.

  Maldonado’s riot shield was suddenly hit by a glass mason jar. Blood burst from it and scattered in all directions splashing on the officers on either side of him. Maldonado knew it was not unusual for rioters to equip themselves with all sorts of improvised weapons. This often included human or animal bodily fluids used as biological weapons and for psychological effect. He was now thankful for the downpour; at least the rain would wash the disgusting liquid off him and his fellow officers. As the crowd grew closer the tiny lights of burning Molotov Cocktails could be seen as they were ignited before being hurled at the awaiting riot units. Finally, and with tremendous force the mob slammed head on into the shields of the police phalanx.

  ….

  NGP Officer Aaron Saunders patiently waited as the Black Hawk leveled out parallel to the floor from where the RPG’s had been launched from. Two large broken plate glass windows marked the exit points of the rockets. Utilizing night vision goggles he could see several people scurrying about within the inner portion of the large, abandoned building, but thanks to the heavy rain he was not able to make out much beyond bright green glowing silhouettes. However, this was of little concern to him. No one was getting out of the building alive.

  He flipped up the red cover to the M134’s charging switch and flicked the toggle to the “on” position. Taking aim he held onto the rear handles of the gun with both hands and depressed the red “fire” button with his left thumb. The minigun sprang to deafening life as hundreds of 7.62mm armor piercing rounds poured out of the gun’s multiple barrels. The cyclic rate of the M134 was so fast that the ear splitting sound the weapon produced was more reminiscent of a large chain saw than that of a firearm. The noise it made could easily be heard over the thunder, lighting, and the massive crowd.

  Superheated empty brass shell casings fell from the Black Hawk and rained down onto the mob below as round after round tore through the building as if the structure itself had been made out of mere papier-mâché. The heavy grained bullets fractured the remaining glass, punched holes through steel girders, destroyed concrete pylons, splintered wood, and shredded the bodies of the Iranian Terrorists who had been seeking refuge inside.

  Officer Saunders swept the gun from side to side maximizing the destruction he was inflicting as rubble from the shattered building tumbled down onto the crowd beneath him. Given enough time and ammo the M134 literally had the ability to saw the entire structure in half.

  Suddenly, from a building on the opposite side of the street where the Black Hawk was hovering another Rocket Propelled Grenade was launched. It streaked through the open air and struck the rear fuselage portion of the helicopter. The resulting explosion tore the tail end of the Black Hawk completely off.

  The damage instantly threw the helicopter into an out of control spin as it fell from the sky. The aircraft created smoking circles as it descended towards the street and riotous crowd below it. Saunders was tossed around the interior cabin of the Black Hawk and had it not been for his safety harness he would have been ejected from the passenger compartment. Numerous alarms sounded from the cockpit area as the two NGP pilots desperately tried to level out the helicopter.

  As the damaged aircraft continued on its downward trajectory many of the rioters located below the falling helicopter managed to flee, but others failed to do so. The large and heavy black frame of the out of control Black Hawk crashed down on those unable to escape and crushed their bodies like fragile eggshells. After the initial impact the helicopter listed wildly and turned over onto its side. The massive spinning rotor blades struck the hard roadway surface and shattered like glass sending heavy shards of metal shrapnel spinning out into the crowd in all directions, instantly killing several more people and injuring many others. After another rotational turn from the crash the Black Hawk finally came to rest on its side among the scattered debris and bodies. Enraged that several of their comrades had been killed by the falling helicopter, a large swath of the angry mob now turned its attention to the survivors of the Black Hawk and swarmed towards the crippled aircraft like a pack of wolves.

  ….

  With their rifles raised John and Chris swept in through the open door in a hook shaped pattern; John broke left while Chris went to the right. Before anyone had any chance to react Chris fired two rounds, a split second later he fired two more. The two Chechen men that John and Chris had observed bringing supplies to the vehicles were now dead on the floor.

  Nathan Crawford, the college student who had been focusing intently on his computer very nearly leapt out of his chair shocked by the sound of gunshots. He dove for cover, but foolishly did not seek safety behind any particular object in the room. Instead, he lay on the ground in a curled up ball shaking in terror.

  “Don’t shoot me! Please don’t shoot me!” he cried.

  Nasir Malik Zahir Kamil had a completely different idea. Grabbing the duffle bag that was laid out in front of him he ducked behind the large workbench where he had been standing. The ammo cans and boxes of equipment offered him some concealment. He quickly unzipped and pulled down the corners of the bag exposing a silver colored metallic object approximately two feet long and three feet in circumference. The eleven inch center section was box shaped with two cylinders protruding from either side. The stainless steel g
leamed in the light of the propane lanterns they had positioned around the room. On the top and directly in the center of the metal casing was a numerical key pad. Beside the key pad were four more buttons, “Yes, No, Enter, and Cancel”. Directly above the keypad and rising from the highly polished steel was a small, thin, detachable remote control. It too was metal with a keypad similar to the one below it. On opposite sides of the numeric pad were two key holes.

  Darren immediately grabbed Karina who had been standing next to him with her hands still cuffed behind her back and yanked her in front of him. He then drew his Sig Sauer P220 from its holster and placed the barrel of the gun to her head. It only took John a second to sweep the room with his rifle and he immediately felt his heart drop when he saw that Darren was using Karina as his make-shift human shield. With the other two guards dead Chris now turned his attention to Darren and Karina as well.

  “Let her go!” John shouted in an enraged voice. “NOW!!”

  Darren laughed as he did his best to conceal his much larger frame behind hers. The size difference between the two was apparent as he tightly squeezed her body against his own; trying to cover all his vital organs while hiding his head behind Karina’s. John knew that he could easily hit Darren somewhere with a shot from his rifle, but without direct access to the man’s vital systems an immediately lethal kill shot would be much more difficult. Simply wounding Darren would only guarantee certain death for Karina who futilely struggled against him and stared at John with tear filled eyes.

  “John!” she shouted in a terrified voice.

  “Drop your weapons…I will kill her.” Darren said in a cold and emotionless voice as John and Chris carefully edged closer to him.

  From behind the work table Kamil reached inside his shirt and pulled out a small beaded chain he wore around his neck; attached to it were two large titanium keys. He ripped the chain from his neck and quickly inserted both keys into the matching keyholes, turning them simultaneously. There was a beep and the digital display and keypad began to glow. Kamil worked quickly as the intruders moved closer and closer to his position.

  “Drop the gun!” Chris shouted as he took another half step closer. Darren smiled at him.

  “Gentlemen…” he said. “There is no resolution to this situation without the death of your lady friend unless you both put your weapons down.” Darren glared at John as he moved his firearm from Karina’s head down into the small of her back directly over her spinal cord.

  “She will die…painfully…and it will be your fault.” He said.

  “Don’t do it John!” Karina begged through her tears. “Shoot him!” she cried.

  “Silence!!” Darren snapped.

  John tried to keep his hands from shaking as he focused on the red chevron of his Trijicon sight. He had the tip of the reticle placed just over Karina’s shoulder just above the little bit of Darren’s head that was exposed, but trying to compensate for the height over bore of his sight due to their close range, the subtle movements both individuals were making, and the possibility that his bullet might pull ever so slightly in a different direction meant he had no way of assuring Karin’s safety if he pulled the trigger. Estimating the exact trajectory of the bullet and betting her life against his best guess was not something he wanted to do, but if he did nothing he knew her death was guaranteed. John carefully placed his finger on the trigger of his rifle and slowly began to squeeze.

  ….

  “Griffin 165 is hit! I repeat, Griffin 165 is hit and we’re going down!”

  The alarming words that came across Lieutenant Fearon’s radio caused everyone’s heart in the conference room to sink. Soon after the NGP pilot had called in his situation officers and soldiers began to relay the same information over the police and National Guard radios.

  “NGP Black Hawk has been hit by an RPG!” One officer shouted.

  “Wilmington, we have a Black Hawk down, I repeat, NGP Black Hawk is down.”

  Another officer said in a voice riddled with anxiety. If this crowd was actively shooting down National Governing Police helicopters, what else were they capable of? Many of the command staff now pondered this thought.

  Following the information coming across the radio the video feeds that were displayed on the flat panel TV’s again caught up and everyone watched in horror as the NGP Helicopter was shot out of the sky. The aircraft descended rapidly and finally crashed to the ground sending debris and shrapnel from its spinning rotor blades out in all directions before the hulking aircraft came to rest on its side. The rioting crowd momentarily scattered in all directions to avoid the falling helicopter, but soon began to move back in towards the Black Hawk. The mob was consumed by rage and everyone in the room knew it would seek vengeance on the NGP Officers inside. There was a hushed silence inside the room.

  “Griffin 549 to 1300…” a voice over Lieutenant Fearon’s radio cut in. The Lieutenant already knew what his officer was going to ask and immediately picked up the hand held and keyed the microphone.

  “NGP 1300 to all Griffin units…weapons free, you are cleared for attack. Neutralize any and all threats.”

  Chief Stickel’s face appeared stunned when he heard Fearon give his orders over the radio. “Attack?” He said in a horrified tone. “Attack civilians with military aircraft?”

  Fearon glared at the chief, “Yes attack…It’s time we gave the predator its teeth back.” he barked. “Now, do you think any of your men can get to my downed helicopter?”

  Stickel looked almost as if he were going to be sick. He glanced at his laptop computer hoping to gain some useful information from it. When this tactic failed him, he looked over at Captain Davis, hoping the field commander would have some intel to relay to him.

  “Most of our units will be confronting the bulk of the crowd; the others are providing perimeter security to make sure we are not outflanked. If you give us a few minutes we might be able to put together a rescue team.” Davis said looking over at the NGP Lieutenant.

  “Those officers will be dead in a few minutes…” Fearon growled before bringing his radio back to his mouth and speaking. “NGP 1300 to TALOS 1.” He said. There was a split second delay before a voice responded.

  “TALOS 1…go ahead.”

  “TALOS 1” Fearon’s voice was growing even more authoritative. “Retrieve our officers…use any means necessary.”

  “Affirmative…TALOS units en route.”

  After hearing the NGP Officer’s response Fearon forcefully slammed his radio down onto the table in front of him. It produced a dense thud and scratched the cheaply stained wood.

  “Colonel…How many of your men can you spare for a flanking assault?” Fearon asked of the National Guard commander.

  “I could reorganize my soldier’s positions and give you about a third of them.” He responded.

  “Good…” Fearon stated, “Captain Davis, when the time comes I’m going to use all of your mounted officers as well.”

  “Yes sir…” Davis responded without even bothering to look at his chief for affirmation.

  ….

  John was preparing himself for the crisp trigger break and the echoing sound of a gunshot when immense pain suddenly coursed through his entire body. All of his muscles stiffened and he groaned in pain as he fell to the hard concrete floor. A split second after he began to suffer he knew exactly what had happened. He had felt this sensation before while in training; someone had just tased him.

  Five seconds after the deployment of the Electro Muscular Disruption device John felt the agony cease. Lying on the ground with two barb like probes attached to thin wires sticking out of his bullet resistant vest he turned to see Jennifer Fields and Surkho Khasmohmad Dudayev walking through the open doorway behind him. Jennifer, who was still dressed in her NGP field uniform and had been holding the Taser in her weak hand now had her Colt 1911 trained on him. Dudayev was pointing his AK-47 at Chris.

  “Lowering the weapon and be placing it on the ground…” Dudayev sai
d with a thick Chechen accent.

  From his vantage point Chris was still unable to take any type of clear shot at Darren who continued to hold Karina in front of him. John was struggling to his feet with Jennifer’s handgun pointed at his face. For the time being the situation was lost.

  “Damn…” Chris said as he lowered his Smith and Wesson M&P15x. Removing the rifle harness he placed the weapon on the ground.

  “Putting your hands above your head.” The orders were given in broken English. Chris and John both complied as Dudayev moved over to Chris and began to further disarm him while Jennifer did the same with John.

  “I knew you were unethical, but you didn’t strike me as the traitorous type.” John said in a contemptuous tone as Jennifer took his rifle, sidearm, and backup gun. She responded with a sarcastic laugh as she handcuffed his hands behind his back; Dudayev was doing the same to Chris.

  “You were always so blind. You could never see the big picture.” Jennifer responded. John gave her a confused look.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  “It’s all about control Mr. Lawrence.” Darren stated as he holstered his sidearm and stepped out from behind Karina, while maintaining a tight grip on her arm. Kamil slowly rose from behind the table, holding a remote control in his left hand.

  “What?” John inquired as he and Chris were moved over to the table where Darren, Kamil, and Karina stood.

  “Why do you think there are so many NGP Officers here in this city? Why do you think she is here?” Darren nodded towards Jennifer as he spoke. “Why do you think the Nation Governing Police would be helping us?” Darren postulated, immediately eliciting an angry look from Jennifer.

  “Officer Fields, none of them will be alive much longer so nothing we say to them matters much now anyways.” His voice grew even more egotistical. However, none of the captives were able to piece together what he was insinuating.

  “Control Mr. Lawrence…” Darren said. “What does the American government want above all else? Why it’s control of course.” His face bore a wickedly confident smile. “People are unhappy, albeit for a myriad of different reasons, but people are unhappy and the promises of hope and change this current administration assured them of nearly ten years ago are no longer satisfying the oblivious masses.” As he spoke Jennifer placed John’s Smith and Wesson 4566 on the table and just out of what would have been arm’s length. John still had a perplexed look on his face.