Chapter 38: Nothing to Lose
Rick vaguely wondered where the fat guy who had called Elijah 'Elliot' had gone off to, but his present concern laid more in the task before him. In front of him and his men was a fairly long hallway that opened up into the lobby area for the Inquisition wing, and it was perfect for an ambush. His people moved slowly, keeping eyes on the other end.
"Contact!" someone screamed. Rick's people opened fire, peppering the opposite side, bullets grazing off the walls, chipping and imbedding at the far end. Rick didn't see anything, but in this long hallway, he really didn't want to get caught in the open without any cover.
"Suppression fire!" he bellowed. "Move, move!" He made sharp gestures, and running low, his group of men advanced. He shouldered his own weapon and, through the scope, sighted, looking for any signs of enemy contact at the end of the hallway.
He cursed under his breath as he viewed the barest amount of black fabric of an Inquisitors sleeve, the person's elbow unintentionally sticking ever so slightly. The rest of his people kept up a decent level of suppressing fire on the other end; anyone who dared reveal themselves wouldn't last long enough to get off more than a shot or two.
But a shot in these tight corridors is all it will take, Rick thought. Hard to miss. They're just waiting for us. Well, fine then.
Rick stopped his forward motion and carefully aimed at the left side. He squeezed the trigger, and the gun gave a satisfying bark. He didn't hear the impact, but a small blood splatter and an angry shriek of pain was all the confirmation he needed.
"Forward!" he yelled to everyone. "Watch the sides!" Just a little further, he thought.
One Inquisitor whirled around the corner, firing his weapon as he turned without aiming. Bullets impacted harmlessly into the walls in a sweeping arc, and Rick put a round through the man's head before he could send any into the moving column. As the body fell, another stepped out. This Inquisitor hit the ground hard after a suppression round fired by one of Rick's men tore through his shin, his unslung weapon sliding out of his reach. They continued advancing.
Around both sides two men reached around and fired blind. A few of Rick's advancing group in the hallway were cut down in the hail of random gunfire. Rick swore and aimed. His assault rifle barked, and the Inquisitor on the left dropped his weapon, shrieking, as the round punched through the back of his hand. Rick's soldiers kept up the stream of suppression, and their fire pocked and chipped at the both corners. The Inquisitor on the right pulled back around, fearful of incurring the same fate of his screaming colleague.
With still too long a distance to cover, Rick gripped the one of two grenades they carried. This is it, he thought, if I do this wrong, it'll kill us instead. "Hit the deck!" he shouted, and all of his remaining men dropped to the ground. He hurled the heavy fragmentation weapon down the hallway. He heard some indistinct shouting, along with what he thought was, "Take cover!" The grenade clattered and bounced, its path taking it just inside the lobby opening.
A deafening explosion echoed down the hallway, and he heard one of his people in front, screeching as bits of shrapnel tore into his flesh.
"Advance!" Rick yelled, and his people sprang up and sprinted down the hallway. A few precious seconds passed as they came closer and closer, and no Inquisitors were seen, shooting or otherwise.
With only twenty feet left to cover, two Inquisitors rolled around the two corners, firing their weapons. Rick dove to the ground, feeling the hiss of rounds just over his head. He cringed as he heard bullets striking his men behind him, waiting in those eternal moments for the hot burst of agony which would signal one round finding him.
Rick hit the ground hard, his vision exploding with stars and the wind rushing out of his lungs. Shit, he thought, gasping for breath and trying to will himself to move. He heard the rattle of return fire and saw from his hazy vision several crouching figures stepping over him.
He craned his neck upward, seeing his remaining men arriving at the end of the hallway. Jonathon had pulled a blood-spattered Inquisitor from around the corner and shoved him up against the wall. The other man's eyes were wild with fear; he gripped Jonathon's arm, desperately trying to push away the combat knife that inched closer to his throat as more of Rick's men ran past, firing their weapons on both sides.
Little by little, Rick's lungs started accepting air again, he clambered to his feet, wincing at the blunt pain radiating where his knee had banged the tile. He limped forward, vision still hazy. He stepped over a few bodies of his fallen men, not looking to see if they were alive or dead. He reached the corner.
The room was not overly large; two hallways on either side stretched out. Emblazoned behind the central desk just above the elevator was the word 'Vigilance.' Twin pillars, symmetrical in the room, sported scorch marks. Blood and bits of flesh scattered around along with twisted, unrecognizable bodies. Rick swept his weapon back and forth; he fired, punching a burst of rounds into two Inquisitors attempting to limp down the right hallway.
To his left, an Inquisitor crouched on top of one of his people. Both men unarmed, and the Inquisitor was striking the now unconscious man across the face with his fists. Rick fired a round through the side of his head, and the man toppled off, hitting the tile.
The frenzy of activity lasted only a few moments longer. All of the Inquisitors, numbering more than twenty total, lay unconscious and dying or already dead from injuries. Jonathon, whose bandage was now dripping, stepped up next to Rick, arterial blood spattered across his face. He wiped his combat knife on his sleeve before sheathing it.
Looking backward, a dozen of his men were unmoving in the hallway behind. He cursed silently as Elijah and Victor picked their way down the hallway, given the all clear. The old man seemed excited about something, barely glancing at the numerous wounded and dead men. Sentries were posted at either hallway, watching for any stragglers.
Rick shook his head, sliding the lids of a dead man's glassy stare to a close. From those left of his insurgent, well-trained group, twelve more were dead or dying along with another eight injured. Not including himself, from the original fifty, only five unharmed soldiers remained.
"Was it worth it?" he muttered to himself.
Elijah, who was within earshot, stepped up to him and grasped his shoulder. "It will be." He turned away and looked over the shoulders of those working on the elevator.
Victor stepped up alongside Rick and surveyed the carnage. In the usual calm voice, he said, "The way will be clear. Secure this position and wait for our return."
Rick shot him an incredulous look. "Are you out of your mind?" he hissed. "You're going alone? You think there won't be anything or anyone waiting up there?"
Victor didn't meet Rick's eyes. "There most certainly will be. It is not your concern."
"The hell it isn't-" Rick started.
Victor silenced him with a sharp gesture. "Stay here."
"Fine." Rick shook his head in disbelief as the elevator doors slid open. He waved his men back, ignoring their confused looks as the smiling Elijah stepped in with Victor.
"They're going alone?" "What the hell is that about?" murmurs floated around the room.
Rick threw up his hands. "They can do whatever they want. Keep your eyes open for any more, and let's tend to our wounded."
Uprising Page 91