As satisfied as he could be, Jack carefully took a few steps up, peering over the waist high perimeter wall of the building. As he did so, a loud snap issued followed by a scattering of brick fragments and dust; the latter almost in the same instant as the sound of the gunshot rang out. Jack darted back just in time, glancing at Tyrone.
“Flash?” Jack questioned. Tyrone nodded, reached for his grenade belt and retrieved a cylindrical device. He pulled the pin and launched it over the ledge; a moment later, a loud bang belted out into the night along with a blinding flash. Wasting no time, Jack powered the rest of the way up onto the roof, raised his weapon and aimed it in the direction he assumed the sniper to be. The figure had slumped and dropped his rifle, though it was just within reach should he recover quickly enough.
“Freeze!” Jack barked as he sprinted towards the sniper, weapon held ready to fire should he make a move Jack didn’t like.
“Not... likely.” The man returned, coughing. Jack flicked his flashlight on, shining it into the gloomy face of the man and took stock of him. He was younger than Jack by the look of him and had a nearly clean shaven head; he was also deathly pale, his eyes red rimmed and an obvious sheen of sweat was covering his forehead. The man collapsed and rolled away from his weapon, laying on his back and continuing to cough, aspirating flecks of blood onto his face.
“He’s infected.” Tyrone announced.
Jack scanned the man with his torch and observed the torn leg of his trousers, a bloodied bandage visible through the ragged scraps of cloth.
“I’m dying. But they said if I got you to come up here, they’d make sure...” He said, losing his sentence in another coughing fit.
“Jack!” Emma called out, still by the fire escape.
“Stay there!” He yelled over his shoulder.
Jack took a couple of steps closer to the sniper, knelt down and took his side arm, tossing it back towards the fire escape.
“Why did they want you to get us up here?” Jack wanted to know, looking at the sick man. He truly looked as if he was dying, coughing uncontrollably and spluttering more blood.
“For her.” He managed to get out, pointing towards Emma.
Jack looked back Emma then returned to the sniper. He didn’t quite understand what he meant; there weren’t any other Bolvinox people in immediate the area, as they would have shown up on the thermal scan unless they were inside the building of course.
“Jack!” Tyrone called out just before he began firing his weapon. Jack stood and took aim, attempting to locate Tyrone’s target amidst the darkness; he barely caught sight of the object flying towards them, hurtling at almost imperceptible speed towards the rooftop. He aimed and began discharging his own weapon, taking a few cautious steps back as he attempted to put a little distance between himself and the drone that was coming towards them. Sparks flew and the machine banked down and to its left moments before it would’ve slammed into the rooftop of the building. That didn’t stop it from detonating, however; a moment after it slammed into the side of the building it exploded, the drone devastating the front of the structure. A fireball, containing chunks of brick and whatever was within the apartment where it exploded hurtled out into the street. Debris rained down at the same moment the facade of the building began to crumble, the masonry splitting and shattering as it began to pull away from the edge of the rooftop. Jack and Tyrone began to lose their footing, stumbling as they attempted to prevent themselves from falling forward as the roof slowly began to slope down - the front of the building falling away leaving it without support. The sniper coughed, spluttered and attempted to roll over and crawl; Jack reacted swiftly, darting forward and snatching his arm he dragged the wounded man backwards - while the PVC covering the rooftop began to tear away, losing its support as whatever was beneath crumbled. Jack scrambled backwards but wasn’t fast enough as a fresh split in the roof was forming behind him.
“Jack!” Tyrone roared in warning; he felt Tyrone’s powerful hands on his upper arms as the other man attempted to drag him back, the two men fumbling as the front quarter of the structure started to collapse with one floor dropping down to the next successively until it hit the street with a thunderous, resounding rumble, a cloud of dust rising and spreading in its wake. Tyrone fell backwards, taking Jack with him, the latter still dragging the sniper. They’d just cleared the second crack as the terrible, cacophonous sound of more of the building collapsing obliterated all other sounds - then a second explosion detonated and more of the structure blasted out with a resounding boom.
“Leave him!” Tyrone stated coldly.
“We need him!” Jack shot back.
Jack rolled off Tyrone and they scrambled to their feet. Jack resecured his grip on the sniper’s arm, dragging him back as the building rumbled; flames licking up through the holes in the rooftop, cracks and splits forming as it threatened to totally collapse in on itself. Tyrone got to his feet and made his way to the fire escape, gesturing for the others to start heading down. Jack reached the fire escape long after the others had started down. He stooped, grabbed the sniper’s body and hoisted it over his shoulder. The man was heavy, but it was the only way he could get him down the steps with enough speed to escape without injury from any further collapses or explosions. Having to twist awkwardly to make his way down the steps with the man over his shoulder, Jack was only a quarter of the way down as a third explosion tore out a section of wall in front of him, just above where he was standing on the fire escape. Masonry shot over his head and slammed into the wall on the other side of the alleyway, licks of flame erupting from the new hole. The fire escape rattled, the devastation of the building loosening the fastenings so that as Jack worked his way down, the structure was shaking and dangerously close to coming away from the building altogether. What was causing the other blasts Jack wasn’t sure; he could only imagine that the Bolvinox security team had planted other explosives within the building in the hope of trapping or killing the whole group. The how didn’t matter, but it gave his mind something to think about instead of his racing heart as he followed his team down, hearing their urgent cries for Jack to hurry so that they could ‘get the hell away from the building’. Jack breathlessly started making his way down the last set of steps, the heavy, limp figure on his shoulder not moving or resisting - barely even breathing. He reached the top of the ladder as Tyrone dropped down onto the dumpster with a heavy thud and a rough growl. Jack was just behind him; he didn’t want to climb down so he followed Tyrone, hopping down through the gap and onto the dumpster. He landed as carefully as he could, not wanting to twist his ankle or slip and break a limb. He did, however, nearly slip, twisting and beginning to fall off the dumpster, but a firm grip from Tyrone steadied him, then the two men dropped off the dumpster together and sprinted along the alleyway as a fourth explosion obliterated the lower section of the fire escape, the frame clanging away and the ladder falling to the ground. Jack stumbled, but managed to keep running with Tyrone's support.
“Ramsay!” Hall issued over the radio. “Ramsay, what’s happening?”
He didn’t answer, he was too focused on survival; Hall’s question would have to wait. They were running, moving all the way to the far end of the alleyway just in case there were more explosive devices. Rodriguez and Cross spilled out of the alley first, weapons raised to secure the area, Emma just behind them. She glanced back at Jack but he gestured with his free hand for her to keep going, pointing to a building across the street - a convenience store from what he could see of it.
“This guy looks like doesn’t have long, we need to get what we can from him!” Jack called out, not caring how the man might feel hearing himself being talked about in such terms.
Tyrone moved to Emma’s side, his own weapon raised and covering her from any danger to her right. Jack followed along, his weapon hitting his side as he ran and his shoulder hurting from the pressure of the man hanging weightily upon it. Cross advanced faster than the others, reaching the double door
s of the convenience store, shoving them inward and swiftly beginning to secure the interior. Jack watched as he fired a few shots, moving methodically down the main aisle in the centre of the store, taking out targets presumably hidden behind the aisles on the left. Rodriguez, Tyrone then Emma went through ahead of Jack, who entered last and headed for the cashiers station on the right. Tyrone shoved the register and a few display items off the top, giving Jack the room he needed to drop the man heavily on the counter; manipulating him so he was laying full stretch. Cross passed by in Jack’s peripheral vision carrying a mop. Jack glanced to the doors and saw him slide the pole between the two U-shaped handles. There was, however, a lot of glass - framed by wood - on the doors and the wide window that would be vulnerable, but hopefully they wouldn’t there very long.
Emma moved to Jack’s side and began to examine the sniper with him. Jack was searching for any devices or any form of identification while she peeled back the sniper’s closed eyelids.
“Pupils are dilating, skin clammy.” She reported. “Fever is high too.”
“How long?” Jack wanted to know, ripping open pockets and searching them, finding ammunition for the rifle they’d left behind and the pistol Jack had discarded.
“This is definitely the last stage of the infection.” Emma told him.
“Hey!” Jack declared, slamming the man’s chest. It restored a minimal amount of consciousness, but not enough for questioning. Emma assisted him by slapping the man’s face, retracting her hand as he took a raggedy breath. He coughed, seemingly coming around a little.
“He...” He started, coughing before attempting to speak again. “Help me.”
“Listen to me.” Jack told him forcefully. “There’s no cure. There’s no way to stop what’s happening to you. But there’s something you can do that’ll help others.”
“F-Fu—” He started to curse, but Jack shut him down with another slap to the face.
“Enough of that. You may not want to help us out of some kind of misguided loyalty, but here’s what’s going to happen: either you help us - tell us what we want to know - and we make sure you don’t come back as one of them; or we let you turn, but make it so you can’t walk or crawl. You’ll flop around for days, weeks even, unable to move. Maybe you’ll get lucky and we’ll drop an airstrike, or maybe you’ll have to wait until we start cleaning up the cities. The choice is yours: rest in peace or rest in pieces.” Jack issued with ice in his tone. Though his eyes were glassy and he was clearly losing the battle with the virus, comprehension about his future dawned on him.
“W-What do you want?”
“Are Bridges and Smith still alive?”
“Yes... taken for questioning.”
“To what end?”
“Find out how much you know.”
“Fine. Where did they take Bridges and Smith?”
“Don’t know.” He said before coughing again, more blood issuing from his mouth. “Didn’t tell me.”
“How are they getting out of the city?”
“Helicopter... Multi-story car park.”
Jack suspected it was the same location that had been identified as the secondary extraction point they had intended to use themselves.
“Why did they leave you behind?” Emma asked him.
“Draw you in to kill you with that drone strike.”
“I thought you wanted her alive?”
“They just... They just want her dead before she can talk about what she saw. Please...” The man trailed off weakly.
Jack tried to consider if there was anything more to learn from him.
“How many of them are left?”
“Ten.”
“Who’s in command?”
“Jared... Brown.” He responded weakly. Jack froze, staring hard at him before quickly rounding on Tyrone.
“You said Brown was killed?” Jack blazed. Tyrone looked confused.
“That’s what I read.”
“He wasn’t on a mission with you?”
“No, he was reassigned to a different command from Maxwell. A few months later we heard he’d been killed.”
Jack looked back at the sniper and wondered if he was lying; the biggest argument against that being how he would know the name would mean something to them. Then again, the name wasn’t all that unique, it could be a different Jared Brown, but still... Jack had some concerns.
“And your name?”
“Sutton... C... Carl Sutton. Please... Kill me.” The man pleaded. Jack looked to Emma.
“There’s nothing else we can do, right?” He wanted to confirm.
“Right.” She said, stepping back.
“We need to get moving!” Cross called out, drawing Jack’s attention to the window. A dozen infected were shuffling into the street; it wasn’t clear if they had come because Jack’s team had drawn them or if they were simply moving around in search of food. Jack turned back, raised his weapon and aimed at his head. It was a little more kindness than perhaps was deserved, but Jack put a single shot through the sniper’s head and prevented him from turning. He went limp, the blood spraying onto the display behind the counter.
“You okay?” Jack asked, looking to Emma and seeing that she was obviously shaken. She faced him and nodded.
“Just...” Emma started. “If it comes to it, please don’t let me turn.”
Jack nodded, and then refocused on his team.
“Back door everyone! Move out!”
Chapter Eight
Hall re-entered the conference room, tablet held in the crook of her arm, her eyes meeting Maxwell’s penetrating gaze.
“Sir, Major Ramsay has just been in contact. The commander of the enemy force is apparently Jared Brown.” She explained as the door shut automatically behind her. She stepped forward, taking her usual place near the middle of the conference table. Maxwell’s expression turned to a deep frown.
“And he believes this to be same man who was a former member of his team?” Maxwell questioned.
“He believes so but, sir, Brown was killed wasn’t he?”
“So we’ve been led to believe.” Maxwell told her. “I’ve made a few calls and received a report that suggests Haddenfield was also killed, but there’s no listed cause of death, no location of burial, and no notification of his replacement.” Maxwell said, a troubled look crossing his face as he casually reached for yet another cigarette.
“What do you think is going on here, sir?” Hall asked.
“Well, Elizabeth, I think there’s been an operation running for some time - one that I’ve not been made aware of.” Maxwell told her as he opened up a document on the computerized tabletop and slid it on the screen across to her. The document touched the edge of the tabletop screen and made a dooting noise. A reciprocating beep on Hall’s tablet indicated that the file had been sent to her; she looked down at her tablet and reviewed the file.
“What’s this?”
“That’s a list of operatives who’ve been listed as killed in action over the past decade. Look into them; I want everything short of their body in front of me within the hour.” He told her.
“This is a lot of names, sir.”
“That it is. Most of them I’m relatively certain are dead, but I’m not liking this, Elizabeth. I don’t like being kept in the dark and I like it even less that it seems like our organization is in some way responsible for this virus.”
“There’s a name here, Carl Sutton, says he died five months ago, but he was the sniper for Bolvinox that Jack shot a few minutes ago. A mercy killing,” she added. “He had the virus and was about to turn.”
Maxwell said nothing, but Hall could almost see conjectures and questions flitting through his brain.
“Sir, at this point, might it not be best to contact the Director?”
Maxwell’s eyes flicked to Hall for just a moment before he refocused on the electronic documents before him. She knew that Maxwell could contact the head of the Coalition - an unnamed person known only as the Directo
r - and that Maxwell had supposedly been in contact with him on a semi-regular basis since the outbreak began. She wasn’t sure why there was a hesitation in his response, and then Maxwell began to explain himself.
“Let me ask you this, Elizabeth: this virus, if it was based on bacteria discovered on that fallen satellite, for it to be as potent as it is and have been developed in such a relatively short time it must have been a well funded operation, correct? A lot of manpower and resources?”
“I’d say so.”
“Therefore, to me, it follows that there must have been a certain level of oversight. So we need to be aware that either we’re going to report our findings to a Director who is unaware that a significant portion of his organization has been working in secret against the ideals we stand for, or we’re going to report to a Director who has masterminded the whole thing.” Maxwell told her, the unlit cigarette still between his fingers. “It’s a unique problem, one that I don’t think we can have too much information about before carrying it up the chain.”
“I understand, sir.” Hall told him. “I’ll get you the data you’ve requested.”
“Good.” Maxwell stated simply as he reached for his lighter. He looked more fully at Hall, his gaze drifting to the leg where her firearm was holstered. “And keep that handy.”
“Sir?” Hall questioned with obvious surprise.
“There’s every chance that people aren’t going to like the questions that are being asked, if that’s the case, they may seek to stop us.”
The Z Directive (Book 1): Extraction Point Page 13
