Midnight Skills

by William Allen

  All of this largesse made Luke suspicious, and a quick council with his father and the major late that first night, confirmed his suspicions. Chambers wasn’t the only one scraping the bottom of the barrel, and this multi-pronged attack, win or lose, was going to burn up a great deal of the Allied States’ resources. Luke cautiously made this point to what he had begun to think of as the inner cadre, when they’d compared notes.

  “They can’t be running out of manpower, not with the addition of these Regular Army units, depleted as they may be,” Major Keller opined. Luke noted the changes in the man’s demeanor and bearing since the last time they’d worked together. He exuded a confidence that had earlier been lacking, but there was also an underlying sense of gravity to Scott that Luke hadn’t felt before.

  “No, I think it’s something else,” Sam Messner replied, his face a grim mask. “I think they are working under some time constraints. Captain Gilbert seemed convinced Chambers has at least one more of those old nukes in his stockpile. Something else they can use to tip the balance. I’m afraid we are racing against a clock we can’t see.”

  Luke shuddered as he recalled his father’s words, and then he shut down those thoughts as well. He needed all his attention focused on the here-and-now, and no wasted emotion.

  When he reached the rally point a quarter mile from their objective, Luke set up a hasty perimeter with his scouts and cleared the abandoned office supply store, while waiting for the rest of their force to arrive. Luke acted with unthinking confidence, doing the work while saving the hardest job for himself. Well, Dwayne too, since the next part called for a two-man team.

  Moving in tandem with Corporal Silcott, Luke eased through the broken-out front door, the rags on his boots performing double duty when they reduced the sound of his tread through the shattered safety glass. With the NVGs, the pair made quick work of ensuring their temporary refuge remained safe. While the SF troops might have cleared the building when they’d made their sweep, nothing prevented squatters from moving in right after them. Paranoia saves lives, Luke reminded himself, and he confirmed the back room continued to be free of people. Here, Luke joined his men while they cycled through and shed their heavy packs and most of their gear. Stripped down to weapons and ammunition for the coming fight, Luke emerged feeling much less encumbered.

  Luke passed along the all-clear hand signal when he emerged from the storefront, and saw his father and Major Scott arrive with the rest of the men and women. Once again relying on hand gestures, Luke waved the two men over and quickly briefed them on the status of the building. They had decent comms gear now, enough to equip each member with a short-range radio and earpiece, but no one wanted to risk an enemy radio intercept. Just one more difference between fighting looters and real soldiers.

  “You ready to start the approach?” Sam asked his son, and even with the limited moonlight, Luke could read the apprehension on his father’s face. Nobody sane liked sending their men off to risk their lives, but make that your teenage son, and multiply the distress by an order of magnitude. Again, this wasn’t sniping bandits in the woods.

  “Yes, sir,” Luke replied with what he hoped was an air of confidence. He was confident, but also well aware of the risks. These last few months of war taught Luke some bitter lessons. You could do everything right, and still get killed by some stupid bit of bad luck.

  Giving his father a last hug, Luke whispered so only Sam could hear.

  “If I don’t make it, take care of Amy.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” Sam replied just as softly.

  “Yes, I do,” Luke replied slowly. “This is what I’m meant to do.”

  Before Luke’s team took another step, one of Major Keller’s troops broke rank and dashed forward, bestowing unexpected hugs to all the men. She was heavily-bundled, but Luke couldn’t help but notice the curves anyway.

  “That’s Yalonda Butler,” Gus explained. “One of our best medics. She’s little, but fierce. Good troop.”

  “Not hard on the eyes, either,” Frank chimed in with a chuckle. He was older than Luke first thought, his dark features unlined, but his voice betrayed his age. Raspy and low, like a long-time smoker. Then their commanding officer stepped up with a firm, formal handshake for each of them, in a counterpoint to Yalonda’s enthusiastic hugs.

  “Good luck and Godspeed, Luke,” Major Keller said. “Clear us a path and hold on. Don’t let them get off a call for reinforcements. We’re coming in right behind you.”

  With all their preliminaries done, Luke realized they were ready to step off. Showtime.

  CHAPTER 60

  The crawl in took less time than the brain trust back in Wheatland allotted, which was a blessing since Luke felt like they were gradually dying from the cold. The wind-swept snow drifts looked flat at a distance, but up close, the eight of them managed to find dips and hollows to exploit. The temperature hovered in the low teens, and the cold ate through their heavy clothes like tiny razors imbedded in the wool and Gortex.

  Finding their initial targets proved easy enough, since the defenders were kind enough to illuminate the area with generator-powered spotlights. The earlier air raid, though focused miles away on the airport, the larger one outside of town, kept security on edge for some time, hence the spotlights. After hours of no activity though, the gate guards returned to the crude huts and huddled around their makeshift wood stoves.

  If they were aware of the ongoing attacks taking place at other facilities, their lackadaisical attitude didn’t show it. Luke certainly would have preferred attacking with strategic and tactical surprise, but once again, he realized this was just another sideshow to the main event. The assault on the regional headquarters building and the adjacent bunker, should have already been going on for hours by this time, but none of the men with Major Keller had any way of tracking the progress. If the Rangers and the rest of the Regular Army contingent succeeded in bearding Chambers in his den, then this war might be over in a matter of days.

  The size of the complex works in our favor, Luke thought, and he continued to study the layout with his thermal imager. The thermal imager was a small monocle attached to a headband and strapped to the side of his new helmet. The device picked up the body heat present and showed up as a white-tinted blob. Luke knew there’d been more sophisticated models around before the pulse, but in the here-and-now, such a device was priceless. Luke knew they had at least two functional units back home, but he’d taken none with him when he went off to war. Indeed, Bishop only had the one extra Luke was now using.

  For this initial entry, Bishop recommended using the southern gate, and Luke quickly agreed with the reasoning. With the two-story metal structure of the loading bay and offices in the way, the obstructed line of sight offered access for the eight-man team into the interior of the building. Provided they eliminated the security here at the guard post, without raising an alarm.

  While Luke led the way, he knew their other units were shadowing his route. They would take out the other posts, but only the eight of them would enter in the first wave. His scouts needed to take out as many guards as possible, using only knives and clubs. A gunshot would not only alert the other guards, but also risk blowing the row of linked silos into low earth orbit.

  The southern gate featured defenses designed to prevent gate crashers, including concrete barriers and reinforced steel tank traps. The heavy gate, built from what looked like scavenged railroad ties, didn’t fit flush with the ground, and offered three gaps nearly eighteen inches tall. Too good to be true, Luke thought, and David Metcalf clearly agreed as they wormed closer to check the nearest gap.

  A careful look revealed a series of tripwires set at the most obvious weak points, and Luke and David spent several precious minutes confirming an absence of pressure plates under the tripwires. The weight of the snow argued against such a provision, but again, paranoids also had enemies, and no one begrudged them the time.

  Once David had the tripwires neutralize
d, Luke selected Silcott, Angel, and David to accompany him through the gap. Already stripped of most of their bulky gear, the men eeled through the small opening and slid into position on the icy ground. Four guards and four of them meant Luke’s plan allowed no room for a mistake, but he trusted the three men with him as he did very few others. Hell, he wished his father was here, but sadly, time and age had done what no enemy could do, and slowed the Gunnery Sergeant up too much for this kind of work. Cameron and Drew, along with Frank and Gus, would wait for the signal before following.

  Once each man had a target selected, they rushed the unsecured door and the execution went smoothly. And it was an execution, with the last body hitting the filthy floor of the guard shack within a few seconds of the first. None of the dead even had a chance to reach for their weapons or touch the bipod-mounted M240B machine gun intended to repel massed attackers.

  “Shit, that felt like killing a chicken,” David groused, but it was for show. He offered Luke a slight grin, barely visible in the flickering firelight of the smoky stove, and he knelt to wipe his blade on the gray uniform of the dead guard. They’d all gone for quick kills, aimed at the throats and heads. With the kukri, Luke nearly decapitated his man, while Silcott used his narrow-bladed knife to core out the left eye of his victim. Angel and David went for more traditional attacks, drawing their blades across the throat. Their targets made hissing, choking noises as they poured out their life’s blood onto the ground, but still got the job done.

  Looking over at the young black man, Luke couldn’t help but give his friend a bit of shit. They’d been through a lot together, after all.

  “Dude, you really shouldn’t have watched so much Walking Dead back in the day,” Luke chided softly. “That going-through-the-eye-socket thing is harder than it looks. Plus, you can get it stuck in the bone.”

  Silcott gave him a nod, saying something about needing to level up.

  “What next?” David asked, stepping over to help Luke search the bodies and separate out the weapons from the corpses. Neither man thought it necessary to comment on the machetes they’d found with each dead man. They had a rack with M4s along the back wall, but each carbine sported an empty chamber. The open flames of the stove meant they were probably far enough away from the elevators to avoid the risk of igniting the grain dust, but clearly, the Commies figured out the danger closer to the source.

  “These machetes are decent,” Luke replied. “Good steel. Not like that crap you can pick up at WalMart. I mean, that you used to get there. I say, we take them and move on into the complex.”

  “Any use getting their uniforms? Try to blend?” Silcott asked, then looked closer at the bodies and grunted. “Forget it. Only place we’ll blend in with these is in a slasher movie. Like you said, we are all going to get wet.”

  “Like we planned,” Luke stated, getting ready to move once again. “Proceed in pairs. Dwayne, no offense, but you and I are splitting up.”

  Stepping into the corner and dropping his voice, so only his friend could hear, Luke continued. “We’ll each one take one of the Major’s FNGs. You got a preference?”

  “Sure, that there Frank. He’s sure got a pretty mouth,” the corporal misquoted, and Luke stifled a guffaw.

  “All right, that leaves me with Gus.”

  Moving back into the center of the small room, Luke pitched his voice to cover the space without getting loud. First, he formalized the pairings, emphasizing the need for each man to watch out for his partner’s back. They would be moving as quickly as their stealth would allow, but reaching the communications center without giving a warning was key.

  “Let’s start moving. We need to vacate the premises, so the rest of our folks can use this route.”

  “Roger that,” Angel finally said. He was a quiet one, watchful and quick. Luke still didn’t know his background, other than he was loyal to David and good with just about any weapon you cared to name. If they survived, maybe Luke would ask him his story.

  After distributing the sheathed machetes, Luke went over some basics with his new partner and gave Silcott the hand-signal to lead on. Before exiting the guard shack though, Luke leaned against the flimsy front wall hard enough to temporarily bow out the thin wooden panel, and using a pen light held low, he clicked the red-filtered light quickly four times, then followed up with two longer clicks, and finally, one short flash. All clear and ready to proceed.

  The eight men made the dash to the entryway in their newly reconfigured teams, four sprinting and four covering. Luke hated to split with Dwayne, but they both realized the new guys might not survive otherwise. They covered the hundred yards without drawing any outward signs of discovery, then stacked up at the door for what Luke’s father called a dynamic entry. They kept their rifles slung, but produced pistols in one hand, knives in the other.

  “No shooting,” Luke whispered as a reminder, “unless we take fire.”

  With knowing nods all around, Luke carefully cracked the door, leading with his suppressed Springfield XD. Nobody wanted to blow themselves up, but if the door was guarded on the inside, they had no chance to complete their mission without shooting. Their real mission. Seize the stored grain and corn for their own forces.

  Luke was convinced, some of the more cold-blooded generals would be perfectly happy if the grain elevators simply exploded, depriving their enemy of the stored food. But General Rayburn, commanding officer of the surviving Fort Hood contingent, demanded a share of the stored food for his own troops as the price for supporting this mission. Because of Rayburn’s earlier bullying, Luke felt conflicted, but he couldn’t deny Rayburn’s men and their dependents needed the food. That others would starve this winter, so Rayburn’s forces stayed strong might have horrified the pre-pulse Luke, but now, he just didn’t have the capacity to care.

  Fortunately, the short hallway functioned as a mudroom and proved unoccupied. Luke saw a row of pegs on the wall, most covered with heavy coats, except for a handful near the end that were empty. Luke counted thirty coats, all marked with the Committee emblem on the sleeve. No surprise these belonged to the Committee’s enforcers. Who else would they entrust with the means to make their daily bread?

  “Out the door, four left, four right,” Luke rumbled, his voice changing as he approached the next stage. Luke and Gus would go with David and Angel, while he placed Dwayne in charge of Drew and Cameron, with Frank along for another blade. “We’ve got thirty minutes before the rest of the force gets here, so let’s make the most of it. If we can, leave the barracks outside alone. Look for the communications room. That’s ours.”

  “Prisoners?” Gus asked, and Luke wanted to facepalm. Where did the Major get these guys?

  “No,” Luke hissed. “Where the fuck-? Never mind. No, no prisoners. And Cameron, no souvenirs, either.”

  “Shoot, Sarge, you take all the fun out of things,” Cameron pretended to protest. Cameron was Second Squad’s resident scrounger, now that Luke had other responsibilities, and he was good enough to make Luke proud. Sadly, loot was life for the short-handed, underequipped Allied soldiers. Second Squad survived on scavenged ammunition and replacement gear taken from their fallen enemies.

  “Squawk on the radio if you find the comms room or run into trouble. Let’s go.”

  And that was the last barrier down. The hounds were loose. Everything up until this point proceeded like any other mission, sneaking and dodging. Now, Luke found himself almost floating, flying on a mad mixture of adrenaline and hatred. Ready to unleash the need to kill, Luke Messner turned off the part of himself that remained human. One last thought burned before he shifted into the killer he’d always feared he might become. I’m glad Amy’s not here to see this.

  CHAPTER 61

  As Luke and the rest of his scouts moved further into the sprawling building, they found a few low-wattage bulbs lit and took note. The Commies wisely devoted some of their power to provide minimal lighting inside. Luke flipped up his NVGs and carefully stowed them in a pa
dded pouch on his hip, replacing them with simple plastic goggles, and Gus quickly followed suit.

  Luke slid through the dim spaces like a monster made of darkness. This stealthy stalk made for a perfect application of what he was coming to think of as his midnight skills. He felt strong and dangerous, as he led Gus deeper into the complex.

  Despite the late hour, the two still found enemy soldiers awake and alert, if distracted, while they crept through the narrow halls and dauntingly wide-open bays of the small warehouse-like structure of the grain elevator main building. Luke killed two enemy soldiers soon after the team split up, creeping close and using his heavy-bladed kukri in a style similar to that of a tomahawk. To Gus, he appeared to punch each man from behind, angling the cutting edge and tearing through the back of their necks. Severing the spinal cord in one brutal blow, the dead men hit the ground without knowing they were dead yet.

  Luke killed another man while he was in the process of zipping up his pants, stepping into the hallway from one of the side chambers. With his arm already cocked back, ready for trouble, Luke buried the blade into the luckless man’s forehead at a forty-five-degree angle. Not the best form, Luke chided himself, but the blow struck true. Using the jammed kukri as a handle, he dragged the corpse out into the passageway like a piece of stray luggage and backed down the hall to the last open room.

  “What about the blood?” Gus whispered while Luke wrenched at the stuck kukri. The curved knife finally pulled free of its bone prison with a low slurping sound that made the Arkansas scout’s stomach turn.

  “In a little bit, it won’t matter,” Luke replied softly, unconcerned. “We need to check that next room.”

  He hoped this might be the communications room, but instead, it proved to be the camp’s comfort station. Luke hadn’t coined the distasteful phrase, but he seemed to remember the euphemism dated back to the Imperial Japanese forces in the Second World War. He must have read about it in one of his father’s history books, since modern education practices tended to whitewash such atrocities, unless the textbook authors could figure out a way to blame it on the American soldiers.