by Rod Carstens
Tanner followed Matos through the brush-covered courtyard. The building they had entered through was part of a complex with three four-story structures in a square around an open brush-covered courtyard. In the past he was sure it would have been a beautiful area bordered by nice apartments, but now it was filled with weeds, bushes, and trees that were growing through the concrete. The fire escapes were rusted and hanging off the buildings at dangerous-looking angles. Most of the windows had been broken, and some now had small bushes pushing out of an apartment for sunlight. In other words, it was more of a forest than a courtyard. The four buildings were not connected. They needed to cross the courtyard to the building that faced the boulevard so they could figure out how to cross the courtyard.
Tanner heard voices. He peeked down into the darkness of the courtyard. At first he saw nothing then he could just make out two figures. A woman and a child were moving cautiously through the bushes. They reached a small plot of well-tended garden that Tanner had missed. The woman and girl began to pick the vegetables that grew there. Their plot was big enough to provide vegetables but not so large as to draw attention from scavenging gangs. Probably a couple of families were homesteading in one of the buildings. Cat touched his shoulder and pointed to the building across the yard. At first he didn’t see anything. Then he saw the glow of a cooking fire through the cracks in a boarded-up window. They were gathering vegetables for dinner.
He smelled something cooking on the fire. His stomach growled with hunger at the thought of real food. The meal smelled like fish. If he had to make a guess, they probably kept a small stock pond going to provide protein in their diets. They were smart and careful, yet in a few hours the Free Fire Zone sweeps would find them. These little settlements were exactly why Tanner had protested the declaration. They weren’t hurting anyone. In fact they were what the government professed to want in these Wild Zones: settlers finding a way to live off the land in the new reality of changing climate and no city services. He was tempted to warn them, but where would they go on such short notice? They had a unique little area here and had made the best of it.
Tanner shook himself out of those thoughts. He had more pressing problems. He and his team were being hunted by a very good Special Action Team. They needed to cross the boulevard and get those supplies. Unless they got to a cache, they had no future.
Matos led them through a door that was off its hinges. You always went to high ground, but the roof was out with a troopship in the area. They would have to settle on the top floor overlooking Washington Boulevard. Carefully and quietly they climbed the interior stairs, making sure they didn’t step on debris that would make noise. The smell of the fish and vegetables cooking was filling the building and reminding Tanner just how hungry he was. Focus, he thought, or you’ll never get a chance at another meal like that one again.
Matos got them through the apartment and across a hall so they could observe the corner of 97th and Washington as well as the spot where Alden connected with Washington. They had to get off the block next to where they’d ambushed that gang because the Special Action lieutenant would be certain to search it. Now the next question was how to last long enough to get to the caches. How to move across the hundred yards of bare concrete? The only cover was a few deserted cars, including the one left from his earlier brush-up with the gang. There was a way to do it he just couldn’t see it. What was it?
“Do we have to cross?” Cat said. “I don’t like it.”
“Only if we want to get to the other side,” Tanner replied.
“I lost my sense of humor a couple of hours ago,” Cat said.
“But there are other ways out,” Matos said.
“Yeah, but we have to have the supplies in as many of those caches as we can get if we are going to walk out. We’ll never last without them.”
They were silent as each tried to pick up something that would help them make the crossing.
“Are you sure this Spec Act Team is waiting?” Matos asked.
“Oh, yeah. This girl is too smart not to figure things out. She’s going to spread her team out and wait. The only thing in our favor is she’s not sure where we’ll cross and she’s probably spread thin.”
How to cross? Tanner needed something. He crawled through dirt and dust on the apartment floor to a new position. He surveyed the street in the growing darkness. Nothing, nothing…but he kept coming back to the burnt-out wreck left from his brush with the gang earlier. Then he saw that his sliding wire was still stretched across Washington. That was it. That was how they would do it. It wouldn’t have to be that strong, just strong enough, he thought.
“Cat, Matos.” They both crawled over to where Tanner was lying. Tanner pointed to the wreck. “That’s the only chance we’ve got to get across.”
“What?” Cat snapped.
“Yes, look. The gang’s going to be coming back for salvage sometime tonight. When they show up to salvage that wreck, that’s when we’ll make our move. And if we’re lucky, that sliding wire I used just might make the difference,” Tanner said. “Load up with explosive rounds. We’re going to need all the firepower and distractions we can get. We need to find a couple of the Spec Act Teams she’s got out in observation posts. I would love to take out a couple when we cross.”
Cat, Matos, and Tanner changed magazines. Then they took up positions that would allow different views of the street and settled in for the waiting.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Special Action Team
1915 hours
“Split up into three-person teams. I want a team on every other roof from 97th all the way up to 95th. Alternate from the north to the south side of the street.”
The squad leaders began to split their squads into three-person teams. Anke keyed her mic. “Did you copy?” she asked the pilot.
“Check, Lieutenant,” the pilot replied.
Anke stared at the map on her computer. That should do it. After the ambush they would move as far east down Washington as they could and she would have spread her troops along the boulevard. That would put them close to their primary’s location. If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought Tanner and his team were helping complete her mission. Granted they had been a pain, but now the primary would think that she was after Tanner, and it just might help with the surprise she would need to capture him alive. For the first time since this mission had begun, she started to think that things were actually going her way.
The tiltrotor came to a hover over a rooftop and three of her troopers slid down the rope to the roof. The ship did the same thing several more times until all the teams were in place. Three members in each building, with night vision and sectors assigned to each.
“Lieutenant, that’s the last of the teams. What are our orders?”
“Land a few blocks to the west. We’ll wait till then.”
“Roger, ma’am.”
The tiltrotor did as she had instructed. Now all she could do was wait. She didn’t think it would take too long. She had him. Clever boy, but he had run out of luck between the computer and her experience. There was no way he could get across Washington without one of the teams or gunships taking him and his team out.
Yes, this would certainly look good in her file: an RSF team and the primary. This would do it for her promotion. She glanced out the rear of the ship. It was a beautiful night out there, if you weren’t being hunted.
“Ma’am, post number three. There’s two gang cars moving in a easterly direction along the boulevard.”
“Forget them. Let them pass,” she said.
“But I think they’re going after some salvage. There is a wreck in my sector that hasn’t been salvaged. It must be new.”
“What? Why didn’t you report that?”
“Well, ma’a—” She heard the man scream. “I can’t see!”
“Pilot, get me there fast.”
She looked eastward in time to see the residual flash of flash-bang grenades. Even at this distance,
with night vision it hurt. She could imagine what it would be like to anyone close. Nice trick.
“All units,” she snapped, “they are making their move at 97th. I repeat, they’re crossing at 97th. All units close in. Close in.”
Why hadn’t that idiot reported that wreck? That might have been all the combat sim needed to determine Tanner’s actions. The tiltrotor took off, rose above the buildings, and headed for the scene. Anke closed her computer and picked up her rifle. She slammed a new magazine into the weapon and leaned back against the bulkhead of the aircraft. If that idiot had only done his job she would have Tanner.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Resource Security Force
Team Sixteen
1945 hours
The gang members were staggering around blindly in the middle of the street. The flash bangs Tanner, Cat, and Matos had thrown in their midst had done their job on them as well as on anyone using night vision. Cat and Matos opened up on the two Special Action Team lookouts they had spotted. The window the lookouts had been using disappeared in a series of explosions as Cat and Matos found their targets. More rounds exploded in the room. Those two were down and would stay down.
Tanner sprayed a magazine at the gang’s feet, hoping to get them running. With that many bodies running around in the street they would have provided them with cover for their crossing. It worked. The gang members broke and started stumbling away from the explosions. Cat, Tanner, and Matos were up and moving close behind, mixing in with them as they ran.
For the first twenty-five yards nothing happened. Then a couple of gang members regained their sight and saw they were running beside an RSF team. They shouted a warning to the others and tried to open fire. Tanner’s and Cat’s weapons cut them down before they got off a shot. The Special Action Team members began to recover. Sporadic M96 fire started coming from their left, blowing bits of concrete into their faces, stinging and cutting them even through their masks. But it wasn’t concentrated on them. There were still too many figures in the street. One then another gang member went down. Tanner, Cat, and Matos kept running.
They continued their sprint, their packs bouncing on their backs, their weapons in their hands. Tanner’s lungs began to burn, and his legs were getting heavy under the weight of his pack. Tanner caught movement in a window to his left. He sprayed the window and one on each side. The windows disappeared in a confusion of exploding glass and brick. There was no more ’96 fire from that direction. But other ’96s and gang-member weapons were opening up now.
They were almost to the other side of the boulevard when Matos was hit. He went down in a heap. Tanner and Cat immediately grabbed him and started dragging him until he stood. Then, supporting him between them, they staggered the last few yards to the safety of the other side. The three stumbled together into a vacant storefront. Cat immediately began to work on Matos while Tanner went to the window to cover them. The survivors of the gang made it to cover several buildings down from them. Both of their cars were burning brightly. In the firelight Tanner could see several bodies scattered in the street. Two were groaning and moving. The others were still. The ’96 fire had stopped. The Special Action Team would be organizing to make a sweep as soon as possible.
“Cat,” Tanner said without taking his eyes off the street.
“It’s a leg. It’s a good one. It was a civilian weapon. I can get him moving with some drugs, but he won’t last long. He’s going to need rest and more care.”
“Matos?” Tanner asked.
“Yeah. Yeah. I can make it,” he replied through gritted teeth.
Cat finished bandaging him, then gave him a pain injection.
“We’re ready to go.”
“You two take off. I’ll meet you at Rally Point Fourteen. I’m going to stay behind and create a little more confusion before I go.”
Cat looked at him and nodded, then helped Matos out of the room.
“I’ll be right behind you,” Tanner said, before adding quietly, “I hope.”
He turned back to the street. He needed to move. Surely the Spec Act Team had seen them enter the building. He ran to the back of the store. He didn’t have long; the troopship would be coming soon. He needed to find a good firing position. There were some old stairs leading to the second floor. They wouldn’t expect anyone be stupid enough to stay in the location they had just entered. It might just work. He began taking the stairs two at a time up to the second floor. One gave way and his leg went through the step and got wedged there. He was trying to get his leg free when he heard a noise behind him.
“Look, Teak, we got ourselves a trapped piece of shit.”
Tanner looked over his shoulder. There were two men standing there, pointing a pistol and a rifle at him.
“We don’t have time for this, Damien. Those Spec guys will be here any moment. We can’t shoot him. That would bring them down on us in a heartbeat.”
“But we can cut him and get his weapons. Cover me.”
The bigger man who had a bald head handed his rifle to the smaller man and pulled a big butcher’s knife out. He moved quickly for a big man. Tanner knew that he was going to have one chance: his silenced pistol was on the left side of his MOLLE handle where he could pull it and fire, but the big guy was behind him now. The little guy wasn’t watching him closely. He was looking around nervously. Tanner heard the big man on the steps behind him—the little guy was watching his partner, not Tanner. In one quick motion, Tanner pulled his nine-millimeter and fired, striking the little guy in the forehead. He dropped in his tracks.
The big man was quick. He got up the rest of the steps and stabbed with that big butcher knife. It struck Tanner’s MOLLE and slid off, lacerating his left arm. Tanner put the pistol under his the injured arm and pulled the trigger again and again. He heard the big man grunt and the clatter of the knife when he dropped. Then a louder noise as he fell and slid down the stairs.
It took a lot of effort to free himself from the rotted step, especially with his left arm lacerated and bleeding badly. The big guy had done some damage with that damn butcher knife. Tanner stood and looked down at the big man on the floor. He had hit him at least three times in the chest. He was dying, but he snarled at Tanner, “Fuck you.” Tanner put a bullet in his head and walked up to the second floor. He would need to bandage his arm quickly, before that damn troopship got there.
He leaned against the wall to catch his breath. He could still hear confused shouting outside in the street. He pulled a bandage from his first-aid kit and, holding one end with his teeth, he managed to tie it tightly around his arm. It hurt like hell. He reached into his kit and pulled a local painkiller and pushed the needle directly into his wound, groaning as he did. It would slow the bleeding and deaden the area. Next he took out another syringe of painkiller and jammed it into his leg. Between the two, he wouldn’t feel any pain for a while.
He had wanted to get a good look at the street before he chose his firing position, but he didn’t have time. He slipped out of the back door and waited, listening. Things were getting organized out on the street. It wouldn’t be long before they started to sweep the area. Come on, he thought, come on. As if the pilot could hear him, he heard the tiltrotor approaching the scene. Staying in the shadows and moving slowly, he found his position. The alley he was in led all the way to 88th Street. He would make his escape that way. Now if the combat gods were with him, the tiltrotor would come down Washington from the west.
Sure enough, there it came. He put a new magazine of explosive rounds in his rifle and waited.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Special Action Team
Patrol Area Bravo
2000 hours
Anke Muller was not happy. She’d had them, and because some idiot had not made a proper report, they were gone again. Not only that, but she had taken casualties, and the number of effectives she had was still being counted. But the game was not over yet. The combat sim suggested jumping over Tanner and his team with the tiltr
otor and catching them at one of the supply caches.
She walked into the middle of the street. “Round up these shits. I’ll call in a troopship to transport them.”
Her team rounded up the gang members able to walk and finished off those who couldn’t. Her sergeant came up to her.
“Ma’am, we’ve lost three.”
“Fuck. Where were they?”
“The building across the street,” the sergeant said, pointing to the window.
She could see where the explosive rounds had chewed up the building and the room. She just shook her head.
“Get out of my sight, Sergeant. They were your troops. I put their loss on your head and the report will say so.”
“But—” the sergeant began.
“Leave me.”
Clearly angered, he walked away, but he was smart enough not to say a word. Somebody was going to have to take the hit for this fuckup, and it wasn’t going to be her, that was sure. She watched as the team flex-cuffed the surviving gang members and put black hoods over their heads. They gathered them in the middle of the street and made them sit down. A corporation would pay a pretty penny for them. They all looked young and strong. She would get her cut. That was at least something to come out of this cluster fuck.
“We got them all, Lieutenant,” the sergeant reported.
“Very well.”
Anke touched her radio mic.
“Troop One, this is Headhunter. Come on in for the pickup of the prisoners.”
“Roger, Headhunter. We are inbound.”
Anke walked over to a building on the north side of the street to get out of the engine blast of the tiltrotor when it landed. She was standing in a doorway as the rest of the team stood guarding the cuffed gang members. Suddenly she sensed something was wrong. What was bothering her?