Hollow Point

by Rawlin Cash

  Hunter lifted up his right arm, signaling to Kim not to move. He dropped to a prone position and crawled up to the lip of a small hill. Kim copied, as did the rest of the men.

  Hunter pulled up his M4 and adjusted the scope. He took two quick shots, dropping both sentries, and then stood up. He sprinted toward the main building.

  Kim and Liberators followed closely.

  They needed to get there before whoever was inside noticed that something was wrong.

  Kim was in awe of the CIA assassin. The man was close to fifteen years his senior, but he had the body of someone younger—he had the endurance of someone far more capable.

  Once they all made it to the building entrance, Hunter checked the bodies of both sentries for any security keys or cards. He found a passcode card in the front pocket of one and then went to the door entrance.

  He slid the card through the card reader.

  The light beside the reader turned green.

  "We're in," Hunter said. "Stay close, and stay sharp."

  Kim nodded.

  It took them less than ten minutes to clear out the building. Altogether, there were fifteen guards inside. Unfortunately, the Liberators lost a couple men during the raid.

  When they'd approached the communication station, they had nine in total, now they were done to six.

  Once the building was clear, Hunter went to Yong and brought him inside.

  Yong quickly got to work. He placed the satellite transponder onto the comm stations central computer and made his way inside the KPA network.

  He began to sift through the massive amounts of information in front of him. Before long, he'd discovered the location of the President, and he'd also broadcast his signal of hope to the people.

  Forty-Eight

  The village was in ruins. The structures that still stood were on fire and splintered. Park had unleashed every rocket from the Hind D she could. She then unloaded every bullet from the giant machine gun turret mounted under the helicopter's fuselage on the town.

  Villagers below waved their hands in submission. Many of them were on their knees in the snow. She unloaded on a group of them, mowing them down like they were targets at a shooting gallery.

  When she was finally out of ammo, she landed the Hind D. She'd do the rest on her feet.

  She stepped out of the cockpit.

  Her footsteps crackled in the thick snow as she approached the older man, who'd survived the barrage of gunfire. It was the village elder. Tak Sun. He was on his knees. On either side of him were the dead bodies of men and women he'd once called family. Tears streamed from his eyes as he saw Park approach.

  He knew all about her.

  The Bitch from Pyongyang.

  The Devil's Daughter.

  She had many nicknames.

  "I'll tell you where they are…" he shouted with what little breath he had. "Please, no more violence. No more destruction. You've destroyed our town."

  Park looked at the older man and felt no sympathy. She hated weakness. She considered it the ultimate insult.

  "If you're lying to me, I'll come back here and slit the throat of every child in this town. I'll skin every woman alive and send the men to the mines."

  "They're left for shore," the old man sobbed. He wiped tears from his eyes. "You'll find them there."

  "How many?"

  "Three."

  "Good."

  She turned away from the village elder and was about to get back inside the Hind D and fly toward the shore when she realized she wasn't done. He'd told her the truth too quickly. She needed to make sure that if he was lying, the next villager told her the truth. If she had to come back, she wanted to make sure that the villagers didn't think she'd be quick to fool.

  She pulled out her pistol and walked back to the older man.

  "You better not be lying to me," she said.

  "I'm not… I'm not… I swear. They're close to the sea. They're the rebel faction you're looking for."

  The eyes of the surviving villagers could be seen from inside the fiery ruins of the town. They were watching Park from their cover, studying her. Park felt their glances.

  She pulled down on the trigger of the gun and splattered the elder's brains across the white snow.

  She'd sent her message.

  While the barrel of her pistol smoked, she shouted out to the village, "If I have to come back here, I will kill you all. Did they go to the shore?"

  The villagers remained silent in their cover.

  Inside one of the buildings, young Ho Chin looked up at his mother and tiny little brother. He didn't want to betray the Liberators, but he couldn't let his mother die. He was torn by feelings he couldn't control. He was young. Scared.

  He ran out of the building he was hiding in and into the snow and the clearing. He raised his arms as he approached Park.

  "The elder was lying!" he shouted.

  Park looked at the young boy and smiled. She aimed her pistol at the boy and ordered him to "Come forward!"

  Chin did what he was told.

  He stepped through the thick snow. The cold was relentless. He could hear the moans of the villagers inside their cover. He could hear their sighs of disappointment in him. Didn't they realize that he was doing what was best for them? Didn't they consider that?

  He was too young to know how hard they'd fought to conceal the Liberators. That life and death mattered less than the grand struggle for liberation.

  "Where are they?" Park said, pleased that the killing of the older man had worked so well.

  "They're at the communication tower. The one atop Mount Kim."

  Chin, shivering and cold, pointed toward the mountains and the shining red light from atop the satellite tower at the top of the mountain.

  Park smiled.

  "Good boy," she said. "You've just saved your village." She yelled out to the rest of the villagers. "This young boy spared your lives. You owe him everything. If I ever have to come back here, you will all die."

  Park walked back to the helicopter and got inside.

  Chin fell to his knees.

  The dead elder's body beside him.

  As the Hind D lifted into the dark of the swirling wind, Chin was left alone. He knew he'd be considered an outcast. He did what he did to protect his mother.

  Nothing more.

  Forty-Nine

  "Did we get coordinates?" Hunter barked at Kim.

  Kim turned to Yong, who was frantically typing away at the keyboard. He turned back to Hunter and gave an unconfident expression. "We need to give Yong time."

  Hunter looked out the window in the control room. It was pitch black outside the tower. The blizzard that had moved in during their ambush at the communication station had become worse. All he could see was the helipad and the sprinkling of bodies that he and Kim had killed during the raid.

  "We need to hurry up," Hunter said.

  "Why?" Kim asked. "We can't leave in this weather. We'd have to traverse back to the base camp. We wouldn't make it."

  "We'd take one of the vehicles."

  "And go down the main road?"

  "Yes."

  Yong furiously clicked away at the computer. He was trying to break into the main KPA network so that he could broadcast his message.

  "I've done it," Yong said. "I've found out where Woo is holding the President, and I've sent the message."

  "Are you sure?" Hunter asked. He walked up to the computer to get a look at the coordinates.

  "They have to be right,” Yong said. "It's far away, however. It will take us days to get there."

  "How do you know you're right?"

  "It's a communication log. It was sent between Woo and his lieutenants. I am one hundred percent sure."

  "Fuck," Hunter grunted. "Where is he?"

  "It looks like the President is in the Supreme Leader's Moon Palace. It's north of Pyongyang, close to the Chinese border. It's in a valley in the Kangnam Mountains. They moved him there after the attack at the stadiu
m."

  "Why would they move him so far from the capital?" Hunter asked.

  Kim walked over. He'd been to the Moon Palace before. When he was a recruit. The Palace had a reputation in the KPA. Supreme Leader Jong-Lee would hold lavish parties in the region. The Moon Palace was where he could live his life of hedonism and excess without the glaring eyes of the generals. But the Moon Palace was more than just a party hub. It was where the members of the Jong-Lee family were buried. It was a symbolic location.

  "I know that place," Kim said. "It's at least a four-day drive away from here. And that's if we take the main roads. We'd have to cross four major KPA bases. It would be hard to move without attracting attention."

  "Damnit," Hunter grunted. "We have two days. We need to get to that place sooner than that."

  Outside, the wind howled, and the snow danced in all directions, but Hunter felt something in his chest. It was a reverberating feeling, deep. He walked to the window.

  "What is it?" Kim asked.

  Hunter looked out at the helipad. He then looked up and saw the source of the feeling. A Hind D helicopter emerged from the dark above.

  Kim ran to the window.

  "Oh no, it's her."

  "Her?" Hunter asked.

  "She's the Devil's Daughter, one of Woo's lieutenants. She's vicious."

  Yong closed his eyes. He knew what the presence of the Devil's Daughter meant. The soldiers who got away during the attack must have told Woo.

  Hunter grabbed a sniper rifle from a weapons stockpile in the building. It was an older Dragunov model.

  The Dragunov was a semi-automatic, gas-operated rifle with a short-stroke gas-piston system. The barrel breech was locked through a rotating bolt. It used three locking lugs to engage the corresponding locking recesses in the barrel extension. Attached to it was a Russian PSO-1M2 military issue 4x24 telescopic sight with a Warsaw Pact rail mounting system. He grabbed hold of two cartridges and walked to the control room's exit.

  "Where are you going?" Kim said.

  "You and the rest of the Liberators need to stay here. Stay here and protect Yong. Your country will need you alive."

  Hunter left the control room and made his way out into the cold. He was going to meet the Devil's Daughter.

  He was also going to get her helicopter.

  He'd need it if he was going to have a shot at rescuing the President in the next forty-eight hours.

  Fifty

  Outside, the wind raged. Hunter kept his rifle close to his chest and checked each corner to make sure it was clear before making a move. He didn't have eyes on her. Not yet. But he knew she was out there. Watching.

  He stayed mostly in the shadows.

  Three buildings made up the communication center, and they didn't provide a lot of cover.

  He figured that she would investigate the dead bodies on the helipad and then proceed slowly. If she was to be feared as much as Kim had made it sound like she should be, then Hunter knew he would have to treat her with a certain kind of respect.

  He found a position thirty yards from the only entrance into the main control building and then lay on the ground, lifting his rifle and scanning the helipad.

  The rotors of the Hind D had stopped spinning. The bodies of the men he'd killed were still sprawled about. The only sign she was there at all was the helicopter.

  Hunter waited. He was holding his breath to steady his aim. He felt like he was hunting a wild wolf out in Alaska. He was made for this. He could feel the blood swell through his veins. He could feel his heart in his chest.

  Where was she?

  Was he overconfident?

  A moment of doubt struck his mind. He hadn't taken his G-12 in a long time. He needed a fix. He needed to calm his nerves.

  He exhausted a thick heavy plume of air from his lungs. A small grey cloud emerged around his head. It might as well have been a target.

  His eyes widened.

  Shit.

  He rolled to his side just in the nick of time.

  A thunderous roar blasted out of some invisible dark crevice nearby. The bullet from the sniper rifle chewed up the snow he'd just been lying on.

  Hunter got to his knees and ran for cover. He didn't have eyes on her, but he had a new respect for her—she had eyes on him thanks to his deep and warm breath.

  Kim was right to be afraid of her. She was a formidable soldier—smart. She'd used her environment to her advantage.

  Hunter shook his head.

  He needed his meds.

  This wasn't like hunting a wolf. He'd been too aggressive.

  He needed the G-12.

  He wanted to be sharp.

  He had to rely on raw instinct alone.

  He knew he'd been tracked to his position of cover. She was too good. If he peeked around the corner, his head would be blown to chunks. Instead, he crouched down and circumnavigated the small building. He hugged the wall the whole way around and then waited. He closed his eyes. Since he couldn't check his corners, he'd have to rely on his other senses. And if he was going to rely on them, he wanted to focus his cognitive power on the ones he could actually use.

  He listened.

  The sounds of the swirling winds brushed past the cement walls and howled like lost souls. It was a cacophony of brisk and harsh horror. He synchronized himself to it. He was waiting to hear anything out of the ordinary. For a footstep, for a rattle of gear, for something that didn't sound like the end of the world.

  He finally heard it.

  It was a crunching sound.

  She was approaching from the right. She'd been following his trail, but clumsily so. She hadn't accounted for the snow's depth, for the sharp angle of the hill the comm station rested on. She made more noise than she'd wanted to.

  He seized the opportunity and ran toward the helipad, knowing that she wouldn't be able to follow him from her current position. It was a game of cat and mouse. It was less checkers and more chess—a strategic game. The loser would be the first to blink.

  He hid behind an empty steel barrel that had been set up on the helipad as a sort of visual aid for pilots who were landing.

  She hadn't seen him make the run from the building. If she had, she would have fired.

  She'd lost the scent.

  Once again, they were both in the dark. Although, this time, Hunter wouldn't exhaust an enormous plume of thick, warm air into the dark from his lungs. He wouldn't let her take advantage like that.

  He could sense her trepidation.

  Her anxiety.

  He didn't have to see or hear her to know it.

  She wasn't used to facing someone at her caliber.

  He lifted his sniper rifle and scanned both sides of the building. He saw her breath. He didn't fire. He'd let her make another mistake. He'd let her think that he was prone to mistake.

  "Who are you!?" she screamed into the dark from her cover. "Are you a soldier? Are you American?"

  Hunter waited in his position.

  The fact that she was screaming to him in English told Hunter all he needed to know. She knew he was American. She knew he'd been sent to Korea to put an end to Woo's dream of war. The villagers must have told her everything.

  Still, he knew she was getting scared. He smiled.

  She now realized her options were growing limited. She was losing.

  She continued. "The Liberator forces don't move like you. They're too weak. Too hungry. I haven't met someone as capable in all my life."

  Hunter smirked. She was arrogant. She was searching for an excuse.

  He should have been ready for what happened next, too, but he wasn't.

  He was caught off guard.

  She was as adept at playing psychological games as she was at physical ones. She was carrying more than a sniper rifle. She was also carrying a submachine gun. She unleashed a clip across the breadth of the helipad.

  Her aggressive action chewed up bits and pieces of stone. Hunter had no choice but to remain still.

  He
waited.

  She'd unleashed an entire SMG magazine as she ran to a new position of cover. She wouldn't be hiding behind the building anymore. She was trying to level the playing field.

  "Are you a soldier!?" she screamed. "Who are you!?"

  Hunter remained quiet.

  There was an urgency to her voice.

  "Are you a coward!? You are just like your country! You won't fight! You'll just hide. Well, I will find you. And when I do, I will kill you!"

  Her frustration worked against her. She gave away her position, but Hunter wasn't going to fall for that. While he lacked a certain sense of himself, he still had his wits about him. She was trying to give her position away. She was trying to exhaust as much breath as possible.

  She was begging him to take the shot.

  He didn't take the bait.

  "Fuck you!" she said.

  He was getting to her head in more than one way.

  Based on the location of her voice, she was close by. Fifteen yards away, although the howling wind made being precise about anything complicated. She'd have to make one more mistake for him to have an advantage.

  Hunter had hunted enough animals in the wild to understand the subtlety of the sounds of snow. She was shuffling her feet, a sign of doubt. The way the snow crackled under her boots gave it all away. While he wasn't his sharpest, there was an innate ability to hunt within him. It was in his blood.

  She was just another wild animal he'd have to put down.

  And like a wild animal, she was about to run. His silence had become as threatening as the dark of the night.

  He seized the advantage.

  As quick as a camera's flash, he shot up from his position of cover. He aimed down his sight toward the direction of the sound of her shuffling feet and found her. She was diminutive and quick. Her body had an almost liquid nature to it. It was challenging to keep tabs on which direction she was headed.

  He knew she knew she was within his sights.

  She was trying to guess where he'd shoot.

  Fifty-fifty.

  Hunter fired.

  She guessed wrong.

  He put a bullet in her torso.

  She was fell to the ground thanks to the ferocity of the shot, a wide hole in her belly, her guts spilling out onto the cold snow, staining the whole dark world into a dark red.