“What was that all about?” Nathan asked David, stopping after he’d led his family out of the recessed doorway and into the alley.
“They popped a cartel lookout down the road.”
“It sounded like you two were arguing.”
“Come on,” David said. “Down the alley.” When Nathan had slipped past him, David checked Calle Gaston Salazar one more time. Nothing but a dead man in the street.
Nathan was waiting for him in the alley. “What were you arguing about?”
“The guy they shot was unarmed,” David said. “Kind of goes against everything I’ve ever stood for as a Marine. But I don’t doubt they’re right. I need to recalibrate fast, or I’m going to get us killed. The guys after us won’t think twice about drilling us through the forehead.”
“Hey. Your instincts got us this far. If you think something’s wrong with these guys, we’re with you one hundred percent—no matter what you choose to do.”
“I think we’re where we need to be,” said David, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for that. Now we better get moving,” he said, nudging Nathan toward the others, who’d just slipped out of sight around a bend in the alley.
Following Nathan, David mentally reviewed their progress. Thirty-minute walk? Not likely. They’d be lucky to get to their vehicle within an hour at this rate. They had to cross three more streets before turning south on Calle H, and that’s where the real fun started. He’d counted at least fifteen cross streets standing in their way, at least three of them major east-west thoroughfares. A glance at his watch showed they had about fifteen minutes until Jose’s people restored the electrical grid. Odds were good that they’d have to cross at least one of those bigger roads with the lights on.
CHAPTER 20
Nathan raised his night-vision visor to wipe a thick sheen of sweat off his face, frightened to discover that he didn’t need the light-enhancing device to see the road ahead of them. They were about to cross the busiest street on their transit, and the whole road glowed orange! How long had they been walking the streets exposed? He glanced over his shoulder, calming down slightly. The portion of Calle H they had just left behind remained dark, only scattered lights poking through the haphazardly boarded windows of the homes lining the street.
Still, the fact that they had approached an illuminated intersection unaware cast serious doubt on their escorts’ capabilities. He tapped Bravo on the shoulder, interrupting a hushed conversation with the other operator.
Bravo turned his head and whispered, “What’s up?”
“The lights are back on.”
They were huddled between a rusted, flat-tired sedan and the crumbled sidewalk on the left side of the road. A tall, pockmarked stucco wall stood flush with the walk. Several feet behind them, a sturdy metal gate sat in the middle of the wall, guarded diligently by David. An unlit Pemex gas station canopy loomed over their corner of the intersection, visible through the palms lining the southern edge of the house.
“They’ve been on for three minutes,” said Bravo.
“Aren’t we a little close to the road given the light situation?”
Bravo shifted to face him. “Lower your visor and check the ambient light reading in the top right corner. Should read close to AL12. Your night-vision device measures the available light and displays it as a percentage compared to normal daylight conditions. Under twenty percent is considered dusk—difficult to see without help. Under ten is as good as dark.”
Nathan lowered his visor and found the reading—AL11. A second green symbol sat directly below it—DL42.
“What if it goes higher than twenty?”
“If it goes higher than twenty, we toggle between normal and night-vision mode to make a better assessment of our surroundings.”
“How do you toggle?” said Nathan, feeling along the lip of his helmet for a button.
“Raise your visor up and down,” he said. “Low-tech.”
“And how did you know the lights were on?”
“You like questions, don’t you?”
“You guys won’t always be around,” said Nathan.
“Good point. Radio.”
“And what if you didn’t have the radio? We could be in the road before the ambient light reading raised an alarm.”
“Do you see the second symbol, directly below ambient light?”
“Yeah. DL42.”
“That’s your distant light reading. It measures the brightest detected light levels in your visor’s center reticle. DL42 means we will be plenty visible when we cross the road.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s not. We’re coming up with a game plan, which will likely involve running and shooting. I need to get back to that meeting,” he said, turning to continue his whispered conversation with Alpha.
Keira pressed up close to him. “What’s going on?”
“They’re figuring out what to do about the well-lit road ahead.”
“Shoot out the lights?”
“It’s probably not that simple.”
Alpha crawled on all fours around Bravo to a position next to Nathan and Keira, calling Owen and David into a huddle beside the car.
“We’re going to shoot out the two closest lights during the next long burst of cartel gunfire, gauge the street for a response, then cross all at once. Dead sprint. You a strong runner, Owen?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Because we’re not gonna stop at the other side. We have to keep running past the business on Avenida Zaragoza. You don’t stop for any reason. Copy?”
“Copy,” said Owen, looking up at Nathan.
“He’s good,” said Nathan, squeezing his shoulder.
“I’m not worried about Owen,” said Alpha.
“We’re good, too.”
“All right. Bravo and I will take covering positions near the street. I’ll take the Pemex station gas island. He’ll hide behind the low wall on the corner across Calle H. We’ll hit the lights from there and wait. When you see me signal, starting running down the middle of the street. We’ll join you on the flanks as you pass. David leads the way and covers forward. Any questions?”
“Same ROE?” said David.
“We’ll let you know when it changes,” said Alpha. “Ready?”
They all nodded and muttered readiness. The two commandos moved to the front edge of the car and knelt, seemingly in no hurry to run across open ground to their positions. They appeared to be listening. Without warning, they burst forward, splitting apart. Alpha arrived at the gas station quicker than Nathan thought possible, crouching behind a thick concrete crash barrier forming a V shape at the edge of the intersection. The second commando slid into position on the ground behind the thigh-high brick wall across the street.
Nathan couldn’t see the streetlights illuminating the intersection but guessed Bravo had sighted in on the light beyond the gas station, keeping the wall to his back for protection. When Alpha braced his rifle against the top of the barrier and aimed in Bravo’s direction, Nathan knew he was right. Now it was just a matter of waiting for another drunk cartel jackass to fire his weapon in the air.
“Any time now,” Nathan said over his shoulder, feeling his son press against him.
They didn’t have to wait long. A brief torrent of gunfire ripped through the night—including two suppressed cracks from Alpha and Bravo’s rifles. The symbols in Nathan’s visor changed. AL4. DL13. Nearly pitch-dark by the car. Still a little light on the street, but safe to cross—according to Alpha. Then again, it had been dark when they shot the cartel lookout in the street a mile or so back. He kept focused on Alpha, waiting for the signal.
Nathan sensed the deep vibration before he heard it, the sensory impact triggering a memory of sitting in traffic. When the next thrum buzzed through him, he recognized the sound, taking a step backward into his son. One of those crazy bass systems idiots liked to crank in their cars.
“There’s a car coming,” he whispered,
checking to see if David was watching the street behind them.
“All clear back here,” said David, scanning the street with his rifle.
When Nathan looked back toward the intersection, he saw Alpha’s head lower behind the barrier. Nathan had no intention of raising his head any higher to check on the other operative. As the bass thumping got deeper and louder, Nathan flipped his visor up to take advantage of the one visual trick his synthetic daylight, night-vision system couldn’t replicate.
The gas station disappeared, slowly rematerializing in the soft glow of approaching headlights. As the bass vibrations grew stronger, the light bathing the right side of the concrete barrier intensified. As the lights turned in Nathan’s direction, he pulled Owen to the ground next to the curb, Keira and David dropping low with them. Light poured over the car hiding them, creating a moving shadow as the vehicle thumped past. He held his breath, waiting for the squeak of the brakes or the telltale red glow. He’d emerge gun blazing if the car stopped.
As the bass faded far to the north on Calle H, Nathan lowered his night-vision visor. Alpha had risen into view above the barrier he’d been hiding behind and was motioning emphatically. Shit. He wanted them to cross the intersection right now? There was no other way to interpret the signal. It was time.
“We’re going now,” said Nathan, pulling his son to his feet. “In three, two—”
“Not in the middle of the street, please,” said David.
“Agreed. And we stay together,” said Nathan. “Go!”
They ran together, at a swift, controlled pace, toward the intersection. Nowhere close to a dead sprint, because he didn’t want his family spread out across the road—plus, his backpack hurt like a bitch when he ran. If his hurt, Keira’s hurt. Nathan set the speed, constantly checking on their son’s progress. So far, they looked fine.
When they hit the intersection, Alpha and Bravo raced into position on their flanks, matching the pace. A quick glance to his right down Avenida Zaragoza showed it to be empty of vehicle or pedestrian traffic. He never got to look in the other direction. A sustained burst of staccato gunfire boomed nearby, and he heard bullets snapping overhead and buzzing through their formation.
Nathan yanked his son and wife to the dusty pavement as several rounds zipped inches above them. Alpha landed on his back with a thud ahead of them, his fall far from intentional. Just beyond his family, Bravo lay on his stomach, frantically searching in a westerly direction for the shooter. David lay on his back behind them, clutching his left shoulder, rifle useless next to him.
“Is everyone OK?” Nathan said to Keira and Owen.
“I’m good,” she said, pulling Owen closer.
“Buddy?” he insisted, receiving a nod from his son.
“Lie on top of Owen,” he yelled, deactivating his rifle safety.
A seemingly endless succession of deep booms rippled across the intersection, and Nathan’s visor system did something he hadn’t noticed before. Small green circles appeared in the direction of the gas station, followed by a new symbol in the upper right corner. GNFR.
Gunfire.
“Where is it coming from?” screamed Keira.
“It’s coming from the gas station!” he yelled, lining up the circles with the reticle in his rifle sight. The concrete barrier blocked all but the top quarter of his view of the squat building, but he caught movement in the window on the far right side of the gas station.
“Right corner window!” he said and repeatedly pressed the trigger. The rifle bit into his shoulder as his bullets exploded the top of the concrete barrier and punched visible holes in the stucco around the targeted window. He’d forgotten that his magazines were loaded with armor-piercing rounds.
“Cover me!” yelled Bravo, pushing himself off the ground.
Nathan fired at the top of the window, his rounds blasting the upper edge of the barrier into a cloud of concrete dust. He never saw where the rest of the bullets from his magazine struck. Bravo’s rifle chattered, adding to the maelstrom of tungsten-tipped bullets striking the gas station.
Nathan yanked a fresh magazine from his vest and took stock of their situation, which appeared far from optimal.
David had rolled onto his right side, exposing a bloodied wound on his left shoulder. Alpha had turned onto his stomach and begun slithering toward the weapon he had dropped several feet away. Worse yet, they had stopped in the middle of the intersection and were completely exposed in every other direction. Only the concrete barrier at the corner of the gas station had kept the previously unseen shooter from unloading more bullets into the group after they had dropped to the street. He inserted the magazine and rose to one knee, depressing the bolt catch to charge the rifle.
“Pound the gas station!” said Bravo. “I’m going wide left to make sure this fucker’s dead.” He took off in a full sprint toward the rusted car they had just left.
With a less obstructed view of the entire station now that the top of the barrier had been blasted away, Nathan aimed his rifle scope’s reticle just to the left of the window and pressed the trigger, seeing a hole punch through the wall where he suspected the gunman might be hiding. He systematically stitched the building with bullets, focusing his fire on the walls immediately adjacent to the doors and windows. By the time he’d expended the thirty-round magazine, Bravo had reached the far left edge of the building. Shit. He’s going inside? Nathan ejected the magazine from his rifle and pulled a replacement from his vest. When he was ready to fire again, Bravo had disappeared.
“What’s our status?” grumbled Alpha, raising himself to a knee and leveling his rifle toward the station.
“Bravo is clearing the building,” said Nathan, scanning the front of the building with his scope. “You all right?”
“Took a hit in the chest. Vest stopped it cold but knocked the shit out of me.”
Two pops echoed from the gas station.
“That should be the end of it,” said Alpha, pausing for a moment to listen to Bravo’s report through his helmet’s comm system. “Confirmed. Hold your fire, he’s coming out.”
Bravo appeared in the center doorway and took off in their direction.
“We stumbled across a cartel sentry station. Two guys, Bravo said. One was already missing half his head. Nice shooting,” said Alpha.
“Probably wasn’t me.”
“Still a nice job. You’re cleared hot from here on,” he said. “David? You still with us?”
“I’m fine. Grazed my upper shoulder,” said David, digging through a pouch on his vest. “Bleeding like a mother, but I’m good. Nathan?”
“We’re good,” said Nathan.
“Clear the intersection,” said Alpha. “After a minute or so of quiet, people will start peering through windows to see what happened.”
Nathan lifted their trembling son to his feet, hugging him tight. “We’re fine, buddy. I promise.”
“I’m scared,” he whispered.
“Me, too, but we have to keep going. We’ll be safe soon enough,” he lied.
Keira stood behind Owen, staring down Calle H in the direction of the route they had taken to reach the intersection. “I think we might have a problem,” she said in a raised voice.
Nathan followed her gaze. Several blocks away, a car sat in the middle of the street. Probably the same car that passed them before they tried to cross the intersection. He lifted his night-vision visor, seeing two faint red brake lights in the distance.
“Patch yourself up later, David,” said Alpha. “We need to get moving.”
Bravo reached them a moment later. “What’s up?”
While Nathan watched, the red lights turned white. “Shit!” he yelled, flipping his visor back into position. “They just went into reverse!” He grabbed his son and started to pull him toward the southern side of the intersection, but Alpha grabbed him.
“We can’t run. When they see what happened here, we’ll have a hundred cartel soldiers on our ass.”
“I
’m getting my son out of here,” said Nathan, pulling free of his grip.
Alpha scanned the intersection. “Safest place is behind the gas station barrier. We’ll hit the car farther down the street.”
“Headlights inbound!” yelled Bravo.
“Go!” snapped Alpha, pushing him toward the gas station.
The two commandos and David vanished down the street as Nathan’s family ran for the gas station. When they reached the concrete barrier, he got his first close look at the devastating power of the armor-piercing bullets. The top of a two-foot-wide, one-foot-thick section had been chewed to jagged pieces by the tungsten-tipped 6.8-millimeter bullets, exposing the metal rebar embedded in the concrete. Glancing at the bullet hole–riddled station, he wondered if the rounds had passed entirely through the building, hitting the homes behind it.
A revving engine drew his attention back to Calle H.
“Lie flat and watch our back,” he said to Keira.
She unslung the MP-20 and sandwiched Owen between herself and the barrier, pointing the submachine gun toward the street behind them. Nathan nestled the forward grip of his rifle against an unbroken section of concrete, pointing the barrel over the barrier. His visor indicated a significant, continuously rising change to the distant light measurement. The car was getting close. A rapid discordance of muffled gunshots erupted just out of sight on Calle H where Alpha and Bravo had been heading. When the fusillade ended, the wide sedan appeared between the last parked cars on the street, barreling through the intersection. Nathan tracked the car with his rifle as it swerved nose first into a utility pole on the diagonally opposite corner, launching the driver through the windshield and onto the sidewalk. The car’s back end lifted several feet into the air and slammed down, crunching the rear bumper and spraying plastic light cover pieces into the street.
“Empty your magazine into the car!” he yelled.
He and Keira fired methodically, flattening the tires and shattering the few intact windows in an instant. Most of the bullets punctured the doors and trunk area, warping the metal inward as the frames collapsed. Nathan’s magazine emptied first. When Keira’s weapon finally fell silent, the car resembled a scrap metal chassis, its former shape barely recognizable. Nobody could have survived that. Nathan reloaded and swept the street in both directions for additional threats.
Rogue State (Fractured State Series Book 2) Page 12