Mykal's Return to Towbar's World
Page 11
“I told myself, today I stop taking their shit. I’m tired of being their slave. I’m tired of being their little monkey-boy pansy-ass that they can laugh at and make fun of. I said, today they’re gonna pay for it. I took these two little babies that I kept hidden,” he said and tapped his pistols. “And I said to myself, oh yeah, I’ll go to work today, but this time will be my last time. Today’s gonna be the day I’m going make it all stop. They wanna push and shove, but I’m gonna knock them on their ass and I’m gonna end my life and so when I left…”
≈≈≈∞≈∞≈∞ FLASHBACK ∞≈∞≈∞≈≈≈
Boris explained everything that happened and he saw it all unfold before him. He relived it in his mind while telling Mykal every detail. Despite his inebriated state he had a sharp, crisp, clear picture in his mind.
Boris entered building 631 with his parka covering the two handguns in his waistband. He set his mind on killing Colonel Parker and all the jerks that made his life miserable. Crew 2 would be going to the missile field. He hoped some of the biggest jerks would pick on him today. With two hand guns he wouldn’t get to kill as many of them as he would like before being taken down or killed. He would just have to let everything play itself out. It’d be more about making a statement, and letting them know they pushed the wrong person.
“No more North Dakota winters,” he mumbled to himself. He was resigned to the fact that today was going to be his last day alive. Tomorrow wouldn’t exist. “No more piss ass jobs and people laughing at me. These idiots will remember me for a lonnnnnnggg time.”
Walking down the hall he knew a couple of young airmen were snickering at him. Though some saw him as a famous war hero that survived Towbar’s world, there were others who viewed him jealously. The younger airmen tried to portray him as a standing joke. His physical appearance made him look like an overweight nerd, so he couldn’t possibly be a war veteran that did all that had been written about him. Besides that, he’s a janitor. He mops floors, empties trash cans and cleans the latrines.
The two airmen said something again and laughed. He heard the laughter but not the words. ‘I want those two bastards,’ he thought as he eyed A1C Gilmore and A1C Unger.
“Whadda you looking at?” Gilmore mouthed quietly. Everyone from Crew 2 knew to be extremely quiet. Colonel Parker had an important staff meeting taking place in the conference room and Colonel Parker wouldn’t tolerate any distracting disruptions.
“Yeah, whatta you gonna do, toilet boy?” Unger whispered.
Boris stood in place with his eyes fixed intently on them. The temptation grew so strong just to pull his two weapons and shoot them dead. But if he did that then he may not get the chance to kill more than those two scumbags. He gave a wide-eyed evil grin contemplating his options. If he couldn’t get close enough to Parker he would ensure these two would be his primary targets.
“You don’t look tough enough,” Gilmore whispered and quietly pushed his fist into his open palm. ”You look like a homeless wino.”
“He ain’t nuttin’ but a fat assed drunk,” Unger whispered and they high fived each other. “Look at this dumb ass looking dork.”
Boris turned and walked away. When he passed the guard mount room he saw the majority of Crew 2 waiting for the inspection to take place. He smiled joyfully seeing they didn’t draw weapons. It had to be because Parker hates any noise and distractions and didn’t want the staff meeting to be disrupted. The only personnel to have weapons issued to them were a four man mobile fire team.
‘After they leave I’m gonna open up on these jerks,’ he thought. Boris smiled at the thought of their facial expressions when he opens fire on them. He paced the hallway pretending to be looking for someone. He wanted the fire team out of the building because they would be able to end his attack. The new plan now was to burst into the guard mount room during the inspection and start shooting. Gilmore and Unger would be the prime targets and they would see him coming for them. Hopefully he could then gain access to the conference room and get to Colonel Parker.
“Okay, we’ll take the vehicle to vehicle maintenance and find out what the problem is,” the fire team leader said to the two younger airmen. “Mike, you come with me, you two wait till we get back.”
“Why do we have to wait here?” Griffin, the machine gunner complained quietly. “Colonel Parker is here.”
“We don’t know how long we’ll be over there and I don’t wanna be lugging your 60 and all that ammo around. The same thing for your 203 ammo,” the leader looked to the grenadier.
“I think you’re leaving us here cuz we’re black,” replied Wilson, the grenadier.
“Yeah right, I hand-picked you two nimrods,” the fire team leader chuckled as he zipped up his parka. “We’ll get back just as quick as we can. Make sure you stay quiet,” he whispered harshly.
“Damn it,” Boris mumbled. Suddenly a new plan developed when he watched half of the fire team leave the building. Gilmore and Unger as well as the rest of Crew 2 filed into the guard mount area for the routine inspection. ‘If I could get my hands on that 60,’ he thought and his mouth began to water. Ideas of what he could do with the M-60 ran wild in his head.
“Let’s go down to one of the training rooms,” Wilson suggested quietly. “Just in case Colonel Parker comes out.”
“Hey guys, wait a minute,” Boris called to them in a hushed tone when they started to pick up the ammo cans. “Come here for a minute,” he said as he ambled toward them.
“Who? Us?” Griffin looked at the odd, almost fearful, expression on the heavyset person approaching them.
Boris realized his impromptu plan was in motion. No backing out now and no re-thinking it. ‘It’s on, baby,’ he thought as his heart raced madly. ‘I’m doing this. I’m doing this,’ he thought as the exhilaration rushed through him. He pulled out his monstrous .44 magnum from within his heavy coat and leveled it at their bellies. “One sound and you’re dead,” he threatened as he cocked the hammer back. “Get in the latrine. Now,” he snarled and nodded toward the men’s room.
“What the hell is this?” Griffin questioned softly, but he saw the crazy expression in the beady eyes behind the glasses.
“You think I’m screwin’ around?” Boris snarled and raised the big bore of the barrel into Griffin’s face. Boris was ready to shoot and take the weapon, but he knew that would alarm everyone in the building.
“Be cool dude, be cool,” Wilson quickly surrendered with his hands flying upward. His M-16 and M-203 grenade launcher were useless. They weren’t loaded. “C’mon Marty,” he looked at Griffin. “Home boy ain’t playin’,” he added fearfully. The size of the barrel terrified him. He was aware of the mess such a weapon could make. “I don’ wan’s ta get wasted.”
Being new to the team Airman Martin Griffin assumed this had to be some sort of a prank. He had heard stories of hazing that occurs to the ‘Newbies’. A prank hadn’t been pulled on him yet, so this had to be it. All the other pranks he heard of were rather harmless such as having to call security supply to order a one hundred feet of flight line, or to call base supply to order a couple of fallopian tubes for the gas mask. This gag seemed rather dangerous.
“Yeah Marty, you’re cutting into my time table,” Boris hissed angrily. “You guys do what I say and you two will be the only ones to live and tell what happened this day. I swear this day is gonna go down in history,” he said and gave a creepy smile as they started for the men’s room. Boris hoped the men’s room to be empty. “If not I’ll just start with you two and you’ll never know.”
Once in the men’s room Boris crouched to look under the stalls to see if any feet were present. He had to smile. “Good. Slowly put your weapons on the floor.”
The two frightened airmen put their weapons on the floor and they trembled visibly. “C’mon man, I’m responsible for this weapon,” Griffin said when he let go of the M-60. Griffin knew this wasn’t a hoax. The person holding the gun looked crazy enough to shoot them.
“Oh man,” Wilson groaned when he realized why Boris’s face looked familiar. “He’s one of dem crazy dudes dat was in dat giant’s world, man. He was wit’ dat giant Towbar bro, don’t piss him off Marty.”
“Now, just handcuff yourself together to the top of the pipe to the urinal,” he instructed them. “I don’t have any beef with you guys. Do what I say and you’ll have a hellova story to tell your grandchildren one day,” he chuckled in a friendly manner. “You don’t do what I say and I’ll kill you just like everyone else who has pissed me off. Put your arms behind the pipe so you can’t reach your keys,” he said referring to the pipe that came from the wall into the top of the urinal.
“Oh man, please don’t hurt us,” Wilson moaned as they secured themselves to the urinal pipes.
“I won’t hurt you if you don’t try to be a hero,” Boris warned them. He opened a can of ammunition for the machine gun. “Stay in here and be quiet and I promise you you’ll be fine. Screw with me and,” he paused to think of the best way to get his point across. “I’m dying today and I don’t care who I take down with me. This is your chance to make it out alive.”
“No problem, man, no problem,” Wilson said and shook his head wildly in agreement. “We’ll be cool.”
“You ain’ts gots to worry about us.” Griffin nodded. “But we is gonna get hot wit’ our parkas on, man.”
“You can sweat or you can bleed,” Boris said to be humorous, but they didn’t catch the humor.
“We’re cool, we’re cool,” Wilson said in a panic.
Boris ignored the two of them while he strapped the M-60 machinegun over his neck and shoulder. An evil smirk formed as he fed the first round of ammunition into the feed tray groove. A calming peace filled his entire being when he pulled the cocking handle back and pushed it forward. Boris knew the first round lay ready to be fired from the barrel. Everything would happen automatically once he pulled the trigger. Anything or anyone in his path would be destroyed and the self-disintegrating belt of metal links would drop all over the floor with the empty round casings as a reminder of all the droppings they hit him with. Grabbing the pistol grip he switched the selector lever from safe to fire with his thumb. His breathing increased rapidly. Boris took a calming breath. ‘Definitely, no turning back now.’
“Remember, don’t screw with me,” he warned the two lucky airmen as he picked up the open can of ammo and grabbed one unopened can. Instead of two handguns with minimal rounds, he now had at his fingertips a light machinegun with 1,000 rounds of ammunition. If the situation allowed he could come back for the third ammo can for another 500 rounds. “Now it’s payback,” he whispered and stepped into the hallway. He sighed with relief that the hallway had been clear. If anyone saw him they would know there to be a problem. Boris, like the other ‘Returnees’, was no longer authorized to carry weapons. It would blow his cover and ruined his plan to catch Crew 2 by surprise.
Boris casually set the ammo cans down on the floor in front of the guard mount inspection room. He wasn’t hurried. He took his time as if he was performing his regular menial tasks. He pulled the ammo belt out of the can to make sure it wouldn’t get snagged. All that was left to do was to open the door and squeeze the trigger.
“As Kurt would say,” he whispered to himself. “I’m ready to rock and roll baby.” He grabbed the door handle and quickly pushed the door open. “Laugh at this, suckers,” he yelled as loud as he could. As the last word escaped his mouth his finger pulled tightly on the trigger as if he was trying to choke the life out of it.
For a split second the room filled with confusion, shock and surprise. The Crew stood at attention in five rows of six standing an arm’s length from each other. The inspector and his assistant were in the midst of inspecting the second row. Two others stood by observing, awaiting completion of the review.
The noise shattered the silence as if bombs exploded rapidly. His entire upper body rocked and jerked showing the recoil that pumped burning lead into the room. Bodies were being thrown around and being ripped apart. Boris curled his lips with hatred as if he ripped them to pieces with his bare hands. He foamed with hatred and they couldn’t understand the words that flew from his mouth expressing his disgusted rage.
Boris rocked and jerked in a steady rhythm as each round blasted from the barrel. The barrel poured out flame almost a foot long though no one saw it. The few left standing scrambled for their lives. The booming thunder seemed to shake the walls.
Boris knew he left himself vulnerable to an attack from behind but at this moment of revenge he didn’t care. If anyone felt brave enough, or foolish enough to stop him they better make it count. ‘It’s my time and no one is gonna take this from me.’
The thirty-four men of Crew 2 were trapped. Other exits from this room had always been locked for security reasons. The one accessible exit was blocked by a mad man bent on destruction. Most fell quickly. Others started to run to the walls and corners hoping they could disappear from his sight. They only made themselves easier targets. Rounds ricocheted wildly inside the room.
Bodies lay in all directions and in all positions. Not all bodies were completely intact. In mere seconds every person had been struck and the blood flowed. Some sprawled out in odd contorted poses. Some twitched and kicked. Some were silently still and some screamed hysterically. Some slipped on the blood of others and others fell over the bodies of the dead.
Believing some pretended to be dead to escape his wrath, Boris began shooting the lifeless forms on the floor. “Do the dance of death,” he yelled as bodies flopped and kicked violently. “This is the monster you created!” He hollered with wild laughter though none could hear over the roar.
Two of the armory doors opened to the noise. Before they could raise a weapon Boris turned his death spitting machine to the open doors. The armory personnel were completely surprised. It had to be an accident because no one authorized to receive weapons would ever do something like this.
Two of the young men behind one armory door were hit. One of them had his right shoulder blown off his body and he took a deadly 7.62mm round to the throat and another to the head. He expired by the time his body landed on the floor. The second had been struck twice and then dove to the floor. The third airman behind the second armory door dove to the floor by the time Boris shot at his window. Rounds raked across his cage and when the bullets stopped the uninjured airman quickly closed the armory doors and locked them from the inside.
Boris turned his wrath back to the decimated Crew 2. Gilmore, one of the two he hated lay on the floor holding the enormous hole in his midsection. He Looked up to the ceiling and Gilmore prayed this would end as tears rolled down the sides of his head to the shiny floor. He just wanted the burning to stop.
“Gilllll-morrrrrrre,” Boris yelled and used the trail of bullets to lead to Gilmore’s head. Boris smirked knowing Gilmore would never taunt him again. He continued to rake rounds over the lifeless bodies, including Unger who happened to be one of the first three men killed. The clanking of the expended brass and the metal links of the disintegrating ammunition belt hitting the floor was buried under the constant thunderous explosions.
Boris caught sight of one sergeant crouched down in a corner covering his head with his hands. There seemed to be blood coming from his leg, but other than that he didn’t appear to be hurt. Boris watched his trail of bullets draw into the wall a path to the trembling sergeant. He watched the first round rip into the man’s hip. Before the man could respond to the sudden crushing pain two more rounds exploded into his side and rib cage just under his arm pit. Rounds four and five burst into his head, leaving no doubt he died.
Boris stopped shooting and he felt the whiz and whine of rounds ricocheting around the room. One wild slug z
ipped by his head and out of the room. He knew it was close and it would have killed him, but he didn’t care. Today would be his last day on earth so it didn’t matter. It would probably be better that he take his own life anyway than to give one of these rotten bastards the satisfaction of taking him out.
He saw movement and heard yells and cries for help. He wasn’t finished yet, but he knew he would be getting unwanted visitors soon. He had to prepare for the assault that would be launched against him. “I’m not gonna make it easy for them,” he whispered and reloaded with a new belt of ammo.
In the moment of silence it surprised Boris that someone would foolishly open the Conference room door. “What the hell is going on here?” An irate captain yelled. He froze with a stunned gaze, chalk in one hand and a wooden pointer in the other. Two other men stood behind him. Common sense would dictate unauthorized weapons discharge, but never once had such a situation occur and the country wasn’t at war, the building routinely had many armed personnel entering and exiting at all hours of the day. Crew 2, manned with thirty plus personnel should all be armed in preparation of going to the missile field would be enough to stop any attack. It had to be a prank with fire crackers, and of all days, while Colonel Parker conducted and important staff meeting. The fool pulling a prank would find out just how costly a practical joke would be.
With the machine gun leveled at their midsections Boris open fire once again. The rounds ripped into the Conference room and threw their three lifeless bodies backward to a bloody mess. Boris couldn’t believe how easy this was. ‘They opened the doors!’ He smirked gleefully. ‘What a bunch of friggin idiots. This was meant to be.’