Military Fiction: THE MAC WALKER COLLECTION: A special ops military fiction collection...
Page 25
Gilani was not happy to find so little fear in Mac Walker’s eyes. He looked past the Project Icon operative and found the large and far less confident eyes of Li staring back at him.
“You, come here.”
Mac moved a step closer to Gilani.
“I said this is between us, not them.”
“Take another step and I kill every one of them right now, soldier boy. None of your heathen lives mean a thing to me. I just need to know what you did with Ramtin.”
Suddenly Li’s grandmother Ping began shouting at Hamid while pushing her granddaughter behind her. Mac couldn’t understand what she was actually saying, but the old woman’s tone clearly indicated she was both angry, and had no fear of one of the Hamid Gilani. Ping Yang had survived during the brutality of rule that was Chairman Mao’s China. Tens of thousands were rounded up, imprisoned, or put to death while millions starved under a regime that saw its own population as little more than cattle worthy of sacrifice for what a select group of communist government bureaucrats deemed the greater good.
The eighty-six year old Ping Yang knew Gilani’s kind all too well. She had fled a nation ruled by such monsters, only to find another of their kind now standing in her home and threatening her family – a family Ping had brought to America to be free from such threats.
Mac saw the near-rabid willingness to kill in Gilani’s eyes. The jihadist intended to shoot Ping dead.
The old woman continued to shout at Gilani as she stood pointing her finger at him repeatedly. Then Mac heard her say something familiar in Mandarin, a phrase she had so recently used to describe him during the reading before dinner. She began repeating that phrase over and over again.
You are the protector.
Mac had forgotten about the gun he taken from Tyrell and left on the table behind him.
Li’s grandmother did not forget, and now she was using herself to cause a distraction and give Mac the split second he needed to grab the gun and take Gilani out.
“Shut up old woman!”
Hamid pointed his gun at Li’s grandmother. It was the very thing the old woman had wanted – to provide Mac his moment to be their protector.
Mac took a slow, deep breath, focused his mind, and then did what he had for so long done best – deliver.
He lowered himself to half his height as he whirled around and made himself a smaller target in case Gilani’s reflexes proved quick enough to fire the first shot. Mac’s right hand closed on Tyrell’s gun and then he launched himself to the right, again making himself a moving target. As Mac rolled up from the apartment floor, he heard a bullet hit the space he had just vacated.
Hamid Gilani was indeed, a fast shot.
Mac completed his roll and came up with his weapon aimed at the terrorist’s chest. He quickly pulled the trigger and was greeted by a most unexpected and troubling sound.
Click.
The gun was empty. Tyrell had meant it as a bluff – a bluff that might very well prove deadly for Mac Walker. Gilani continued firing as Mac continued pushing himself forward but the former Navy Seal knew that as fast as he was, no man was faster than a well aimed bullet.
And then something remarkable happened.
Eighty-six year old Ping Yang grabbed onto Gilani and pushed his right arm just enough that the next shot fired a foot above Mac’s head. She was doing far more than merely providing a distraction – she was risking her own life to try and save Mac, a man she had just met.
Bless you, darling, I won’t let you down.
Mac threw his own gun at Gilani’s face, hitting him just above the left eye and momentarily stunning the terrorist who had by then pushed the old woman off of him with an enraged snarl.
Seeing his mother thrown to the floor caused Li’s father Charlie to leave his wife and daughter and run toward Gilani, his small hands balled into tight fists prepared to strike. Mac Walker got to Hamid first though, his left foot snapping into Gilani’s stomach followed by a hard right hand jab into the terrorist’s nose.
Charlie grabbed onto Hamid’s right hand and pulled at the gun, desperately trying dislodge it. Gilani pulled himself away from the older man and brought the gun toward Mac’s head, firing another shot off as he did so. Mac felt the bullet pass by just below his left ear.
He’s strong.
Hamid Galina had been fighting his entire adult life – an alpha killer among lesser jihadi warriors. Even as he struggled to overpower Mac, the terrorist remained calm, almost relaxed as he twisted his body away from Mac’s so that he might find the space to once again fire a final and fatal shot.
Mac gripped Hamid’s right wrist with his left hand, keeping the weapon away from himself as well as trying to make certain it didn’t point toward Li and her family. Charlie had backed away at his daughter’s urging, deciding it was now up to Mac to hopefully do what needed to be done – kill Hamid Gilani.
The two men glared at one another, their faces mere inches apart as they struggled in a strangely tranquil near-silence, the only sounds their low breathing as they each strained to overpower the other.
“God is on my side, Walker. You cannot defeat me.”
Mac’s lips pulled back from his teeth as both his arms trembled from the effort of keeping Gilani’s arms pinned to his side.
“Your version of God can eat shit and die.”
It wasn’t Mac Walker’s most poetic moment, but it communicated his disregard for the jihadist’s religious views simply enough.
Mac’s head tilted back and then snapped forward, smashing into the space just above Gilani’s nose. Hamid’s grip weakened enough to allow Mac to then slam the terrorist’s wrist against the wall with enough force the weapon fell to the floor with a loud clunk after which Mac used his left foot to quickly kick the gun to the side.
Hamid Gilani repaid Mac in kind with a devastatingly well placed left knee to Mac’s groin. Mac gasped loudly as he felt his grip on Gilani’s wrists lessen. Hamid twisted both arms free and proceeded to reach behind him and bring out Mac’s own gun which he then proceeded to press against the Project Icon operative’s skull.
“I told you I would not be defeated.”
Gilani attempted to squeeze the trigger but found he was unable to do so. Hamid’s eyes instantly transformed from reflecting certain victory to panicked confusion at the very same moment Mac’s right palm slammed with jarring force into the soft underside of the jihadi’s chin.
For the second time in half as many days the modified safety feature on Mac’s gun had saved him while being held in an enemy’s hand. Hamid’s knees buckled as he slid downward several inches against the wall while Mac scrambled to regain his sidearm. Before Mac could rip the weapon from Gilani’s grasp, Hamid threw the gun across the room, pushed Mac back with his forearms, and then turned to run.
Mac dove forward and wrapped both his hands around Gilani’s right ankle, causing the other man to crash to the floor. Hamid spun around like an angry snake and used his free left foot to smash the heel of his shoe into Mac’s mouth, dislodging a tooth. Mac refused to let go, using his knees to push himself forward with the intent to land on top of Gilani and pin him to the floor.
Hamid struck out with his foot for a second time, and then a third, finally forcing Mac to release his grip which allowed Gilani to then scramble down the stairs to the restaurant below. Mac pushed himself upward with a pained grunt and then wobbled from side to side as he attempted to clear his mind from the trauma fog that was the result of the repeated kicks to his face and head, his body not yet having fully recovered from the previous day’s beating. He saw the doorway in front of him, heard Gilani’s frantic footsteps, and willed his legs to carry him out of the apartment where he saw Hamid looking up at him from the bottom of the stairs.
As Mac teetered to the left, and then fell against the wall on his right while nearly overcome by another wave of dizziness, Gilani grinned, confident of his soon-to-be escape and the resulting likelihood of living to fight another day.
Both men cried out in pain as Mac’s right shoulder crashed into Hamid’s chest. Gilani fell to the floor with Mac on top of him causing the jihadi to scream out in rage and disbelief that Mac had managed to catch him.
Mac in turn had gone silent, though the grim determination in his eyes spoke volumes. He pummeled Gilani’s upper chest with the sharp bone of his left elbow and then did the same with his right elbow, followed by a devastating left hook to Hamid’s jaw.
Gilani’s will continued to match Mac’s own though as he jammed the tip of his right thumb into the side of Mac’s throat. The pain was instant and considerable, causing Mac to fall off of Hamid and onto the floor as he struggled to fill his lungs with air, his throat feeling as if it was closing up.
Gilani stumbled back onto his feet and began making his way to the exit door but then paused and turned back to face the still gasping Mac Walker. His right foot shot forward, catching the left side of Mac’s ribcage with enough force to momentarily lift that side of his body off the ground.
As Mac lay on the floor groaning, his mouth opening and closing like a fish left to die on dry land, Hamid Gilani spit a massive wet ball of blood-drenched phlegm down onto the side of Mac’s face. The jihadi leered over Mac for a second more before turning again to limp toward the restaurant’s exit.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Gilani didn’t want to turn around, his disbelief in Mac Walker’s refusal to quit sending a sharpened, cold shiver of fear down his spine.
He is no man, but a devil!
“I said where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Hamid Gilani turned around very slowly, his eyes wide while the corners of his mouth twitched uncontrollably. What he saw glaring back at him did in fact appear to be more devil than man as Mac suddenly ran toward him with murderous intent.
Gilani cried out in terror right before Mac Walker collided with him, his head down and his arms outstretched like some berserker football linebacker hoping to decapitate a doomed quarterback. The force of the tackle sent both men crashing through the restaurant’s glass entrance door and onto the sidewalk outside. It wasn’t fancy, but it was effective. Mac was never one to worry over fighting pretty. Rather, he was one to simply fight hard.
Gilani howled in pain after rolling over onto his back, the result of a shard of glass plunging into the flesh of his lower left shoulder blade. Mac rolled himself back onto Hamid’s chest, using his knees to pin the jihadi’s arms while he proceeded to pummel Gilani’s face with a series of right and left hooks. Each time Mac’s fists struck, a grotesque, wet crunching sound echoed against the dark pavement beneath them until finally Gilani’s body went limp, his face a mangled remnant of its former self.
Hamid Gilani wasn’t dead, but he’d certainly seen better days.
Mac gripped Gilani’s throat with a scraped and swollen right hand.
“You’re gonna tell me the school you plan to attack tomorrow.”
Hamid’s eyes partly opened as he began his response with nothing more than a blood-soaked grunt.
“No, I don’t think so, Walker. What is to be will be and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”
Mac tightened his grip on Gilani’s neck and then looked up. A large crowd had gathered in the street around him. Li was among them, her expression one of fear and horror as she looked upon Mac Walker’s darker nature, fully revealed for all to see. She could not believe the powerful beast with hands torn and bloodied upon the face and body of another human being was the same charming, affable man who so recently sat at her family’s dinner table.
Mac Walker had seen that look before in other’s eyes. His work required an ability to turn off much of his own humanity and allow the monster within to surface, a necessity born of the need to survive where others would perish. It was the only way he knew to make himself formidable enough to defeat the kind of evil that existed in the form of men like Hamid Gilani. Mac also knew that it meant he would likely never enjoy the easy comforts of a more normal life. His would forever be the path less taken, the one that worked to keep others safe. Marriage, family…those were luxuries not compatible with the life he had chosen.
He didn’t bother to try and convince Li he was both less and more than the frightening thing she saw before her. It didn’t matter. Mac Walker still had a job to do, and he intended to see it done. His eyes reignited their determined fire as they glowered into Gilani’s own still defiant orbs.
“You will tell me, Hamid. Tell me the school being targeted, and when.”
The jihadi’s laughter was a barely audible croak, his mouth a bloodied and broken void of torn lips and missing teeth.
“You can’t make me tell you anything.”
Mac Walker’s smile was a whisper of approaching thunder – a warning of a dark and terrible storm to come. He moved his hands slowly up Gilani’s face until his thumbs came to rest over each of the jihadi’s eyes where they began to apply just a hint of downward pressure.
“We’ll see about that, Hamid. Actually that’s not entirely true. You won’t be seeing much of anything.”
The gathered Chicago Chinatown crowd stood silently even as Hamid Gilani unleashed a piercing barrage of pained screams. The oldest of the former slaves of communist China knew the necessity of what Mac Walker was doing even as the younger among them quickly looked away. Mac was the unstoppable force required to combat the immovable object of humankind gone horribly wrong.
Creatures like Hamid Gilani deserved but one thing in this world.
Death.
EPILOGUE:
Mac Walker looked up to see Ray Tilley walking through the door of the New Orleans Shrimp Shack Pub. Ray was dressed casually in jeans and a blue t-shirt that was not quite large enough to fully hide the hint of a middle-aged paunch that had been sneaking up on the longtime Washington D.C. resident in recent years. It had been the first time Tilley had bothered to make the trip down to the place Mac Walker called home.
He’s worried about me.
As for Mac, he appeared to have just stepped out of a Jimmy Buffet video, wearing a white tank top, tan cargo shorts, and a pair of especially tired looking, dark-leather flip flops. A near empty bottle of beer sat in front of him, his third since taking the back of the room booth that allowed him full view of the entrance.
Tilley sat down across from Mac and proceeded to push a manila envelope across the table at him while Mac signaled to the bar for two more beers.
“You look to be well on your way to feeling no pain, Mac.”
Mac took the last sip of his old beer and then grabbed one of the two just arrived new bottles.
“No pain sounds like a plan I can support about now.”
Ray glanced at the envelope that remained unopened in front of Mac.
“It’s all there.”
Mac took another long sip of beer and then nodded. Ray Tilley had never short-changed him on an assignment payment before.
“I figure it is, Ray so what now?”
Tilley drank from his own beer as his eyes scanned over the pub’s dim lit interior. Two large televisions that hung behind the bar cast ever-changing shadows across the low ceilinged room.
“Might have some things lining up for your team in Sudan. Not right away, we’re still mapping out the logistics, but it’ll be a multi-week job that should pay well. Don’t worry about that right now, though. You should just rest up, relax and try and decompress from this last assignment.”
Mac began to spin a bottle cap on the table, his eyes lost in its small, circular, metallic blur. Both men looked up at the nearest television scr
een when a local news reporter introduced a report out of Chicago.
“Chicago PD are reporting three heavily armed men were found shot to death on a sidewalk just a block from the entrance to the city’s single largest daycare center. At this time, authorities are not able to confirm if the men intended to attack the daycare. What they have indicated is that all the three men were regular attendees of a Chicago Mosque and were carrying high powered assault rifles, several detonation devices, and dressed in what is being described as military-styled clothing at the time of their deaths. Each man died of a single gunshot wound to the head. It is not yet known at this time who is responsible for the triple murder. Chicago Police are now coordinating with FBI officials in the investigation.”
Tilley raised his bottle while looking at Mac, ignoring the follow up news interview with an Illinois state senator who was using the killing of the three armed men as an example of why not only Illinois, but all of America, must enact strict and immediate gun control laws.