by Robert Brumm
Then one day she showed up at the door, underweight and sickly. Looked like she hadn’t bathed in weeks. Mama nursed her back to health and gave up many of her own meals just so Maria would have enough to eat. She stayed clean for weeks and when Lou had to leave for basic training, he actually believed Maria had gotten her act together. It only lasted for a couple of months. Maria started to go missing for days or weeks at a time and it was clear she was using again.
Last week the State found out Maria was pregnant yet again and they had her arrested. Nobody would tell Mama where she was or what was happening, and she begged Lou for help in the email. As if his military status gave him the power to pull a few strings. As a lowly private stationed at Windigo, there was nothing he could do, of course. Except for sending and receiving censor approved email, he was just as trapped as the sorry geezers working downstairs. He was just a few months into his five year deployment, and besides sending a little money back home, there was nothing he could do to help.
Five years. It seemed like all the other soldiers he was stationed with were just a year or two in with the exception of a few senior non-coms and officers. Whenever he brought up the subject of getting discharged around some of the more experienced men, their answers were vague and the subject quickly changed. Even though he knew it was a high-clearance assignment that prohibited leave while on deployment, Lou volunteered, thanks to the aggressive pay scale. When he saw what was going on in the plant with his own eyes, he started to wonder how the Army did so well at maintaining classified information once soldiers were discharged. He was starting to secretly fear his mama would never see him again either.
So when the half-ton truck appeared on the monitor pulling up to the security gate at 14:07 instead of 14:30, he was distracted enough not to give it a second thought. The schedule was timed down to the minute and the protocol for any schedule variance was very clear. The soldier on guard duty was to deny entrance to the plant until the vehicle could be inspected with help of reinforcements.
Rodriguez punched in the code to open the gate and went outside, hoping it was Corporal Mencia driving today. He was the only other Latino he’d met since arriving at Windigo and enjoyed having somebody else around to shoot the shit in Spanish with. He walked up to the truck and frowned in confusion as he saw the driver not only wasn’t Mencia, he wasn’t even a uniformed soldier.
The driver stuck a Sig Sauer P220 in his face and Private Rodriguez’s bad day ended in a flash of white brilliance turned black as the .45 slug entered his forehead. The single gunshot echoed off the brick walls of the building and into the surrounding woods as a dozen armed men spilled out of the back of the truck.
Chapter 27
Lieutenant Hendricks jammed his finger in his ear trying to hear the voice over the phone, but the shrill chirp of the fire alarm in the hall made it difficult. “What the hell is going on?”
The maintenance sergeant on the other end of the line yelled into the phone. “It was a manual pull of the fire alarm down by the loading docks. I’ve got a man checking it out now.” Hendricks heard the muffled voice as he must have covered the mouthpiece while he yelled at somebody.
“Sergeant.”
“Just a minute, Sir.” The phone clunked down on the desk.
“Sergeant!” Hendricks heard more shouting over the fire alarm and what sounded like a burst of automatic gunfire.
Staff Sergeant Grant appeared in the doorway. “We’ve got a security breach, Lieutenant.” He glanced down the hallway. “We’re under attack.”
Hendricks slowly hung up the phone. He picked up the handset again and entered the pin number to bring up a secure line to the outside. Nothing.
Grant shook his head. “Already tried it. All the phone lines are down. We saw at least one group come in the through the docks on the security feed. Looked like ten or fifteen, armed to the teeth. Hopefully that’s it, but I have a bad feeling there’s more.”
Hendricks said nothing.
“I tried to raise Wilcox up top and can’t get him over the radio either.” Grant waited for his CO to say something while he continued to stare at his phone. “Sir?” The fire alarm suddenly stopped and the office was quiet.
The Lieutenant finally looked up and cleared his throat. “What?”
“What? What are your orders, Sir?”
“My orders are for the men to follow protocol,” Hendricks said. “Everybody should know what to do already. Do I have to spell it out for you?”
“You know we’ve never drilled for an attack from the outside. You insisted it wasn’t necessary, remember?”
Hendricks pounded his fist on the desk. “Don’t tell me what you think I should know, Sergeant! I want the men to haul ass down to the armory, secure weapons, and kill every motherfucker without gray hair and khaki work clothes they come across. You think you can handle that?”
Grant clenched his jaw shut and snapped to attention. “Yes, Sir.” He stormed from the room.
Hendricks rose from his desk and locked the office door. He went through the back into his small yet well-appointed living quarters and opened the gun cabinet in his study.
An attack so soon after Razorback helped Reed escape couldn’t be a coincidence. They had to be involved somehow. His men were still dealing with the loss of their brothers after those two somehow managed to kill every last man on the team sent out after they escaped. Hopefully his soldiers and their hunger for revenge will tip the scales in their favor. From what Grant said, it sounded like at least a dozen attackers. Who were they?
He reached for one of his most prized possessions in his collection and immediately felt better with the weight of the AA-12 automatic shotgun in his hands. He grabbed a drum magazine from the shelf and locked it into place. He didn’t have to check, he knew it was already full of 12 gauge double-ought buck. Thirty-two shells in all, ready to go for a situation like this he never thought would arrive.
The phone conversation he’d had with Colonel Sherman just hours earlier still lingered on his mind. That condescending dick blamed the entire escape all on him. As if he could’ve possibly known that traitor of a spook Razorback would go nuts and pull a gun on him. He always hated him snooping around anyway. Did they think he was some pathetic loser that needed babysitting? That escape would’ve happened to anybody in charge, even that fat tub of shit Sherman.
Hendricks slammed the door to his gun cabinet so hard the glass cracked. He swung the AA-12 over his shoulder and checked the mag on his M9. He chambered a round, set the safety, and slid the handgun back in his hip holster. Sherman even had the audacity to bring up Honduras. As if he’d forgotten all about the reason he ended up in this hellhole to begin with. One little mistake and they never let you forget it.
The Lieutenant cracked the door to his office and peered into the empty hallway. He smelled a trace of smoke in the air and heard shouting coming from down the corridor. A shot rang out. He swung the shotgun off his shoulder and held it at the ready position as he slipped out of his office and down the hall.
*****
Hank concentrated on the man in front of him and gripped the gun in his hands. It was a semi-automatic shotgun, perfect for “spray and pray,” he was told. It was assigned to him due to his inexperience with firearms. The man on point paused at the intersection in the corridor and held up his hand. Hank felt the breath of the person behind him on his neck. He swallowed and wished for at least a sip of water for his dry throat.
Strobe lights mounted on the ceiling blasted the hall with bright light as the fire alarm wailed. Despite that, Hank still heard the sharp crack of a rifle down the hall followed by an ear-splitting shotgun blast. The TAP TAP TAP of a handgun. Hank looked down at his own weapon and wondered if he’d be able to pull the trigger at a man in front of him if he’d need to. He swallowed again and gritted his teeth. He’d do whatever it took for Peg, even if it meant ending a life to save her.
The alarm stopped and the hallway was suddenly and eerily quiet. Th
e man in front lowered his hand and the small team continued forward.
Hank had been surprised at how the attack seemed too easy at first. After the guard was shot outside, they entered the building and had to take out another man investigating the noise outside. The alarm was raised once they surprised two soldiers in the loading dock area. One of them pulled the fire alarm before he was killed in a quick firefight.
The first team went straight to the armory with no resistance. The entire facility was in chaos and confusion as the men tried to investigate the sources of the alarm. By the time they realized an attack was underway, it was too late to arm themselves properly. Grayson’s men blew the armory door and destroyed the entire weapon cache with incendiary grenades as Holden suggested. The four thousand degree blaze from the grenades filled the corridor with heavy black smoke.
While Hank and the others in his team made their way to the boiler rooms, another team overtook the small guard shack by the helicopter landing pad and stormed the facility from that entrance. It was their job to eliminate any resistance and gather as much video footage as possible. They also had some device that was supposedly powerful enough to destroy the entire complex.
A few trucks should have been pulling up outside by now waiting to take away as many retiree workers as possible. The goal for the entire mission was to take no longer than twenty minutes. Even if a distress call was placed the second Grayson’s men stormed the complex, it would take at least a half hour for help to arrive by air.
They reached the commons and so far saw no retiree workers in the hallways, rec room, library or gym. The team leader Jack Porter came along side of Hank. “Where in the hell is everybody, Hank?”
He pointed to the door at the end of the hall. “Cafeteria is the only place left. I’ve never seen the door closed like that so I would guess they’re in there.”
Jack motioned for the team to line up outside the door. He raised his submachine gun, kicked open the door, and rushed in with the rest of the team following. Two surprised soldiers spun around as Jack and the others screamed at them to drop their weapons. The workers sat and stood among the tables, looking as scared and uncertain as the guards.
Hank stepped in and added to the confusion since most of the retirees recognized him. “Everybody listen up!” he shouted “We’re getting all you guys out of here.”
An eruption of confused voices rang out at once, demanding to know what was happening. Several of the men sat back down, making it clear they didn’t want to leave.
“Hey!” Jack yelled. The room quieted down. “We’re leaving right now and if you want to live, you’ll come with us. This place is set to blow in just a few minutes.”
The doors on the other side of the room slammed open and three soldiers rushed in with their pistols drawn. One of them held an M16. The men on Hank’s team opened up and gunned them down before they could get a shot off. The shooting stopped as quickly as it started, sending the room into a deafening silence. The retirees looked at each other as a haze of cordite hung in the air.
“Let’s go,” Jack said. “We’ve got what looks like most of the workers, so let’s get out of here.”
The two surviving soldiers were cuffed and led down the hallway with the workers. Hank was relieved to find none of them decided to stay behind. Jack ordered half the team to escort the prisoners and workers up top while the rest of the men and Hank hurried to the sector four boiler room to get some video footage.
“Hank,” Jack Porter tapped his watch. “We’re getting short on time. You’ve got five minutes to find your wife.”
“I need more time than that,” Hank pleaded. “I have to look through the whole warehouse!”
“And I’m telling you that’s all we have left. This place is blowing sky-high whether you’re still down here or not. Take Mike with you and we’ll meet up top. We’re going to mop up and get as much video as we can.”
Hank and Mike ran to find Peg as more reinforcements arrived and opened fire on the team. They left the firefight behind as bullets ricocheted off the wall beside them and they slipped through the warehouse door.
Chapter 28
John gripped Sara’s hand as they weaved through the crowd to the end of the street. He paused and cursed under his breath as a police cruiser came to a stop on the corner.
“That for us?” Grayson asked.
“They probably called in the local cops to help with the search. That’s what I would’ve done.”
“Shit.”
“Let’s just go,” John said. “We’re going to walk to the car like we don’t have a care in the world. Hopefully they’re still looking for the old car and not us on foot yet.”
John kept his head down as they crossed the street to the sidewalk and watched the car out of the corner of his face mask. A single cop in the cruiser was talking into his radio and hadn’t even looked in their direction. Their second car was parked one block over. If they could just get to it without being spotted, they just might pull it off.
*****
“Son of a bitch!” Viper slammed his fist on the roof of the car and looked around the empty warehouse.
One of the police officers dispatched to help the two federal officers jogged up and shook his head. “Nobody in the place except for a couple bums that broke into one of the offices.”
“Okay,” Viper took a breath. “If they ditched the car, they’re probably on foot in the pig pen.” He turned to Buzzard. “You’re sure all you saw was the other woman?”
“Just her,” Buzzard nodded. “Looked like they knew each other.”
“She must’ve been working with Sanderson. Get back in the car and start circling the area with the black and whites. I’m going on foot.”
Viper stepped out into the street and scanned the crowd. Even with his face mask on, he could smell the stench of the homeless surrounding him. Unwashed flesh and fouled clothing. Festering piles of garbage and overflowing shit buckets. If it were up to him, he’d firebomb the entire block, flatten it into a smoking crater and wipe the city clean of vermin like this. A man asked him for spare change and Viper answered with a healthy shove, sending him flying on his ass and practically taking down a tent in the process. Nobody seemed to notice.
Viper looked all around him. They had to be here somewhere. This might be his only chance to nab Sanderson and God help him if he failed. Explaining to that shriveled up old hag how he let the most wanted man in the district slip through his fingers was not something he was ready to do.
“Command this is Viper, how’s that air support coming? We’re really stretched for eyes on the ground, over.” He reached the edge of the pig pen and looked up and down the street. Traffic was heavy for that time of day. They could still be hiding back in that mess until the heat died down or could be blocks away by now. Viper gritted his teeth in frustration.
“Viper, command here. Drone mission was scrubbed due to mid-flight malfunction. We’re trying to re-route another bird, but we’re still waiting on CENTCOM approval. Closest drone ETA at least twenty minutes, best case. Over.”
Viper disengaged his radio mike. “Fucking useless,” he muttered. He jogged down the street, looking at each car as it passed, each pedestrian walking down the street. Windows, doors, rooftops. Every second that ticked by felt like an eternity. One block over, he stopped at the busy intersection, watching a bus as it groaned to a stop. He scanned the faces looking at him from the windows.
He was just about to give up and call Buzzard to come pick him up, when a strange feeling came over him. A nagging feeling to turn around. He pushed his way through the people waiting at the crosswalk down the sidewalk. Two car lengths behind the bus, idled a beat up old compact pickup truck. He made out three people in the cab. A fat woman stepped in front of him and Viper pushed her aside. She fell to the sidewalk, wailing dramatically after hitting the pavement and making a scene. As he stepped out into the street, the driver looked his way.
John Sanderson’s eyes gre
w wide as he looked right at him. Viper grinned. He pulled the Glock out of his holster hidden beneath his t-shirt and fired.
Chapter 29
Joanna Garret fired a three round burst from her M4 and the soldier leaning around the corner firing at them collapsed. He writhed in pain for a moment before falling still. A handgun slid across the floor and a pair of empty hands appeared. “Don’t shoot! We’re coming out!” Two young soldiers, clearly shaken by the death of their comrade, slowly emerged with their hands held high.
“Get on the floor!” Elias Dow commanded. The team leader slapped Joanna on the back as the soldiers complied. A couple of the men in the team rushed over to cuff them. “Nice shooting, girl. I take back everything I said back at camp.”
Joanna lowered her rifle and smirked. “I believe the exact quote was, ‘Grayson’s outta his goddamn mind, sending us in there with a bunch of goddamn women.’”
“Shit, you heard that, huh?”
“Some of the goddamn women around here spent some time in the army and know a thing or two,” she smiled. As one of the few females in the group who volunteered for combat missions, Joanna was used having to prove herself.
The floor and walls around them shook as a large blast reverberated down the hallway followed by a sustained volley of automatic gunfire.
Elias’s grin faded. “Shit’s gettin’ dicey in here.” He looked up and down the corridor and opened a door to reveal a small storage closet. “This place is as good as any.” He motioned for the two men carrying the device. “Y’all can put it in here when it’s ready. We gotcha covered.”
Joanna crouched and aimed her M4 down the hall. She watched out of the corner of her eye as the two men removed the protective cover. “How did you guys manage to get your hands on that thing? I didn’t even know we had that kind of firepower.”