by TW Brown
“Batman had a utility belt…I have this,” she’d said with a shrug.
When she pulled out a canister and a small, round device, he actually smiled. He continued to watch as she pulled the pin and tossed it up the hallway towards their attackers. He followed her lead, turning his back just as the muffled blast sounded. Even with his back turned, he saw spots in front of his eyes when the flash-bang went off. He continued to keep his back to the doorway, knowing that she wasn’t done. That was confirmed seconds later when an explosion shook the floor enough to topple one of the lamps on a nightstand beside the bed in this room.
Before the ringing in Joel’s ears could die down, Debra had rushed out into the hallway and opened fire with her shotgun. He briefly wondered if his hearing would ever recover. Even as close to her as he was, the weapon was seriously muted.
Bringing up his own rifle, he followed her lead and stepped out into the smoke-filled hallway. Bodies were scattered on the floor. A few were very obviously dead. Some were seriously injured and despite his disdain for them, Joel could not leave them to suffer. He shouldered his rifle and switched to his Beretta. As he waded through the dozen bodies scattered on the floor, he put a single bullet into the head of any that showed signs of life.
Debra was of a similar mindset, but she opted for her blade. Joel had considered it, but decided that noise wasn’t an issue at this point. Additionally, he felt a quick death with a pistol was easier and less personal. After all, despite what some people might believe…he did have a conscience.
They reached the first stairwell and one of the bikers was reaching for the handle when Debra lunged forward and cold-cocked him square in the face. The man fell back, his hands flying to his nose. Blood was already pouring through his hands and a few of the bikers were already swinging their weapons around to the woman.
“Trap,” Debra said calmly as if a handful of pistols and rifles weren’t trained on her.
Joel looked past her and saw a thin copper wire running from the handle and through the door jamb. She knelt down and examined it, lips pressed tight in concentration. As for the bikers, they glanced at their comrade and then amongst each other, none of them entirely happy with how she’d handled the situation, but apparently each one deciding that a punch in the face was preferable to whatever waited for them on the other side of that door.
“Somebody grab a mattress from one of the rooms,” Debra called over her shoulder.
Joel was amazed at how she continued to act as if nothing had happened. It was only then that he realized he’d aimed his own pistol at one of the bikers. He dropped his own arm when he realized that the man was still staring at him with more than just a little concern.
It took a moment, and Joel sent a couple of people back to where they’d entered to ensure they didn’t get any surprise guests from that direction while they waited for the mattress to be manhandled out into the hallway. While everybody did what they were told, Debra slid the blade of one of her knives into the door where it latched. Next, she produced what looked like a leather shoelace and tied it to the door handle.
Once the mattress was brought to the door, Debra had two members of the team hold it in place from the sides. She gave the leather cord a tug, pulling the door open. There was a loud sizzle and then an explosion that, even though it was muffled by the mattress, still caused the ringing in Joel’s ears to return with a vengeance.
When the smoke began to clear, Joel could see that the mattress was now a smoldering mess and both of the people who’d been holding it were sitting on the floor against the opposite wall. Both of them looked more than just a little dazed. Debra was helping one of them to their feet, and Joel stepped in to help the other.
It took a moment to shake off the daze, but then everybody was ready to move out again. They started up the stairs with Debra on point. They hit the next obstacle on the sixth floor. A very fine trip wire was set at almost the perfect location. Joel was certain that had anybody else been leading the way, they would have snagged it.
The entire time they climbed, Joel could hear muffled sounds of gunfire in sporadic bursts coming from up above. Also, the person who’d spoken earlier was occasionally saying something on a megaphone, but being in the stairwell made it impossible to make out.
“I want to get to wherever these lunatics are if for no other reason than to shut that bitch up,” Debra snarled as they passed the seventh floor.
As they reached the ninth, this was their destination, of that there could be no doubt. The voices could be heard as orders were being relayed. Also, there was some sort of odd rhythmic droning taking place. Joel was trying to figure it out when one of the bikers said, “Is somebody singing?”
“A few somebodys,” Debra agreed. She reached for the door after giving it a careful inspection.
Her hand grasped the lever that would open it and she suddenly began to jerk and twitch violently. Joel jumped back as her free arm came out and flailed wildly. Just as suddenly as it started, it ended with the woman glancing over her shoulder, a wicked grin on her face. “Just kidding.”
“That’s messed up,” somebody muttered.
Joel agreed, but he couldn’t help but smile. He gave a nod and she pressed the lever slowly to try and prevent any sound from giving them away. Part of him felt that this had been too easy, but then he remembered he was dealing with what were probably just regular civilians. They more than likely thought their little attack team on the ground floor, along with the pair of traps, would be enough to keep most people from reaching them.
As soon as the door opened a crack, a wave of sound poured out into the stairwell. Something odd drifted in with the noise and the low hum that might be a group of people singing Amazing Grace. It took Joel just a few seconds to process it, but what he heard were the sounds of people screaming through gags or something that muffled their voices. That meant that perhaps not everybody was here of their own free will.
Any other time, he would perhaps see about setting hostages free. At the moment, that would not be a priority. While some would consider this a heartless move, Joel saw it as practical, based on the situation. His main objective was to end this radical sect that was acting under a guise of some twisted religious ideals that had nothing to do with anything close to biblical.
They were in a corner and could look left down a long hall that ran parallel to the towers, and to the right down a shorter corridor. Doors lined both walls, and most of the ones along the side that looked out at the towers were open. Most of the sporadic gunfire came from those.
The singing came from the right. Joel tapped two of his people on the shoulder and then pointed to them, his eyes, and then the shorter hallway. They nodded in understanding and slunk away, each of them hugging a wall. Joel started down the long one, stopping at the first open door and signaling for everybody to halt as he peeked inside.
The room was exactly what you would expect for a middle-class hotel room. All except for the three people at the full-length window with rifles to their shoulders. Against the wall on either side were a half dozen more weapons leaned against the wall, and on the bed, were broken open cases of ammunition and a few dozen magazines: some loaded…some not.
Moving into the room after making certain that everybody knew to stay put, Joel moved briskly and with purpose. He crossed the room without alerting the trio and reached them, choosing the individual on the right at random. As quick as he could, Joel stepped in, grabbed the man around the throat and drove the blade in his hand into the lower back where he guessed the kidneys to be. The other two barely had time to react before Joel whipped up his pistol and shot both of the other two in the chest.
They all dropped or slid to the ground and Joel gave a low whistle signaling everybody to join him. He gestured to the rifles and ammunition. Then he went to the bed and started inserting rounds into any of the empty magazines. It only took a moment for everybody to catch on and join him. In no time, they had the magazines loaded and di
vided up among those who snagged one of the rifles in the room.
They repeated the routine twice more. Each time, Joel wondered if perhaps he’d given this group too much credit for being a threat. It was becoming clear that they didn’t really have a solid structure. They were also grossly overconfident. Nobody was even glancing back at the open door…at least not before he’d gotten in and stuck somebody.
It was the fourth room where their luck changed. Joel had looked inside and seen exactly what he’d expected. Three individuals were at the window with rifles. Once again, Joel slipped into the room intent on taking down the first target and utilizing the element of surprise to eliminate these people.
As soon as he heard the sound, he cursed himself for being so foolhardy. He’d barely registered that the door to the right as he entered was almost completely shut. He felt more than heard it open and turned to see a young man exit the suite’s bathroom. The only thing that saved him was that this person, who could be no older than sixteen, was perhaps more stunned.
With his handgun resting impotently in its holster, Joel’s only choice was to throw his knife. He exhaled his relief when it buried itself in the young man’s chest. The kid crumpled, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, blood trickling from the corners of it, and eyes wide in fear and confusion. For a moment, Joel’s mind flashed to a similar reaction from a young boy in the jungles of Vietnam who’d suffered a similar fate at Joel’s hands. Just as fast as it came, he shoved it away. Now was not the time and he spun to see all three people at the window turning to see what the ruckus was about.
He saw three rifles come up almost in unison. His only choice was to dive behind the bed. He rolled to his side and found himself staring into the pleading eyes of the young man with the knife still jutting from his chest. Glancing toward the open door, he saw one of the bikers peek around the corner and then stumble back when what could only have been a lucky (or unlucky depending on a person’s perspective) shot caught the man in the face, sending him staggering back to slump against the wall across the hall.
There was a single second where silence seemed to fall upon the room right before total hell broke loose.
The doorway suddenly filled with leather-clad bikers all wielding pistols and even a few shotguns. The three people at the window never had a chance to fire a second volley.
However, the shouts that came from down the hall let Joel know that their presence was probably no longer a secret. He climbed to his knees and swapped the magazine in his pistol to ensure he went into the coming fight fully loaded.
“Get in here, you idiots!” he snarled at the few individuals still standing in the hallway.
“What the fuck, boss?” Debra elbowed Joel. “How do you walk past a closed door and not at least nudge it open?”
“Out of practice,” he admitted with a shrug.
“Maybe you let the pros start leading the assault until you get rid of the rust.” She didn’t even have the courtesy to phrase it as a question, but Joel knew deep down that she was at least partially correct. Partially, because she should also know better than to do this in front of the troops.
Poking her head out the doorway at below waist height to minimize being seen—or if she was spotted, sighted in on and shot—Debra scanned the hall. She ducked back in quickly as a volley of gunfire sounded, shards of wood and chunks of the wall flew.
“Yep, element of surprise is FUBAR,” she hissed as she plucked a nasty looking three-inch splinter of wood from her cheek.
Joel watched as she holstered her weapon and pulled the grenade launcher from her shoulder. She patted it as the bikers gaped. “This is the difference between the pros and the Joes,” she said with a deadly glimmer in her eyes.
“We picked the right team,” one of the bikers gasped.
“Yeah.” Debra stepped up to the man, her gaze boring into his. “You might want to be sure and remember that if you ever decide to bail on us.”
She stood there for what felt like hours but could only have been seconds before stepping back and smiling. That smile had to be what a polar bear flashed when it considered a baby seal, Joel thought with an approving shudder. He watched her as she loaded the M203 grenade launcher and then waited for the bullets to stop flying before she stepped out into the hallway and returned fire.
She hopped back in the room as a mixture of shouts and sporadic gunfire started. A few seconds later, there was a floor-shaking explosion followed by a heartbeat of silence…and then the moans of the dead or dying. She quickly reloaded, popped out, and fired again. Joel was pretty certain that the second round was overkill.
He started for the doorway, but Debra put an arm up. “Give them a second to bleed out,” she said like it was an absolutely normal thing to say.
Joel shrugged and waited as she popped her head out and then ducked back just as a few shots rang out. She looked back at Joel and smiled. “Gotta give ‘em credit for spunk.”
After another minute, Debra emerged once more. This time she stood in the center of the hall and just waited. When nothing happened, the rest of the group followed Joel out.
The corridor was a nightmare of gore. Bodies had been blown apart in many instances and others were scorched or charred beyond recognition. The smell was one that Joel knew well, but a few of the bikers stopped, hands on knees as they threw up the contents of their stomachs.
He’d gone only a few steps when somebody staggered out of a door just a few feet away. Debra stepped over and shoved a knife Joel hadn’t even seen her pull into the side of the man’s throat. Up ahead another two individuals came out with weapons drawn. Joel and Debra dove into the nearest open door, as did a few of the bikers.
A couple didn’t make it, and Joel rolled over to see a woman looking at him, her eyes already glazed over. Joel got to his knees as the two individuals came running. He almost felt bad when they reached his open doorway and were met with a hail of bullets.
The last words to be uttered by the pair had something to do with “Glory to God!” or something to that effect. He moved behind Debra who’d just peered around the corner. She leaned forward and then stepped back into the hallway.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she sing-songed as she pulled the pistol-grip shotgun from the custom holster she had on her hip.
There was a stirring, and then a woman emerged from the doorway just three down from where they now stood. She was tall and thin to the point of gaunt. Her black hair was pulled up in a severe bun that, even from a distance, Joel could see that her eyes were almost slanted to the point of being reduced to slits making them seem to be nothing more than dark specks on her pale face. Her thin lips were downturned in a perpetual frown, and her cheeks were flushed just as he’d imagined.
For being so skinny, her breasts were large and on the verge of comical. Joel briefly wondered if she walked so stiffly in order to keep from tumbling forward.
“You will not defile the lambs of God!” she shrieked, her voice going shrill as she yelled the words far too loud considering they were not more than twenty feet away.
“We aren’t here to defile anybody.” Joel stepped forward. “In fact…” Joel raised his own voice in hopes that he might be heard by some of the individuals that could possibly be on the fence. “And if some of you are here against your will, then you can leave unharmed if you go right now.”
“Pay them no heed, my children,” the woman railed. “This is the voice of the Great Deceiver speaking to you through this vessel. He is here to lead you to eternal damnation and only wishes for you to share in the torment he will reap based on his life of sin.”
“Do you actually believe the stuff pouring out of your mouth…or is this part of the carnival act?” Debra snorted.
“And now the Whore of Babylon speaks,” the woman shrieked. Her voice was pitching like a revivalist preacher, and every word from her mouth was accompanied by flecks of spittle as she threw her hands up, and then threw them wide as i
f to embrace the world. “Heed not her words either, my children. Her words are coated in honey, but they are bitter as Wormwood once you truly taste the lies that fall from her tongue.”
“Do I have to listen to any more of this?” Debra snarled. She brought her shotgun up to her shoulder and jacked a round into the chamber.
Just then, Joel heard it. There were a series of crashes and from the closest room he heard what sounded like a thrum. Placing his hand on Debra’s arm, he gave a slight shake of the head and put a finger to his lips indicating that she be quiet. There was a strange, muffled sound coming from the room just ahead. He advanced slowly, his eyes darting back and forth between the crazed woman, Debra, and the open doorway.
At last, he reached it and could look inside the room. Joel had to shake his head to ensure he wasn’t seeing things.
A chair had been kicked over and two bodies hung suspended in a pair of open closets. Their hands had been bound behind their backs and tied to their ankles. Just as he made eye-contact with the third person in the room, the man leaned back against the wall, put the barrel of what looked like a .30-06 rifle in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Even with some suppression, the boom still rattled the walls of the hotel room and hurt Joel’s ears.
“Heathens!” the familiar woman’s voice bellowed. “You think to come here and silence the word of God?”
“Nope…just you,” Joel said. He glanced at Debra and nodded.
The boom of her shotgun echoed up and down the hallway. The tall, gaunt woman stumbled back and fell hard. She was likely dead before her body landed as her heart had been pulverized and blown out her back by the close-range power of the shotgun.
It was then that Joel heard the sound of singing again. He was almost certain that it’d stopped at some point, but he wouldn’t be able to swear to it.