Sleepy ‘residents’ began their exodus only to find the streets still darkened by the night. Many wandered from the various complexes aimlessly. The thunderous crashing of buildings, coupled with the rumbling of the earth from the destruction, woke nearly everyone. The warmth and glow of the sun had not started to crest the horizon. The only sure thought the masses could muster was that the air was choking them and they didn’t know why.
Katherine broke her two dozen strong force into four six-man teams and began advancing west on Spring Street before each turned north and head toward Nationwide Blvd.
As she and her complement were about to turn up Neil Avenue she noticed that the others were lingering beneath a condo complex. Katherine gave the hand signal for her team to hold their position while she went over to investigate. As she approached, the smell of death was pungent. Two of the men peeled off from the group and vomited.
“What the hell are you guys doing?” she asked emphatically, but in a hushed tone. “We need to clear the Neil and Nationwide intersection before the Sheriff starts shelling.”
Dallas turned toward her with his head bowed.
“You don’t want to see that, Katherine,” he said gently.
“What? Why? What is it?” she demanded in earnest as she started an attempt to go around him.
He grabbed her and wrapped her in his arms before whispering, “It’s Eustace, hun. The bastards just left him there.”
She quickly jerked her head up with wide eyes, shocked at what he had said. She’d have given anything to allow herself to weep for her friend in that moment, but she couldn’t. Dallas held her helplessly as the sadness washed over her.
“I’ll take care of it,” he declared as he released her.
Choking back the emotion, she whispered, “Thank you.”
As she began a slow progression toward her team, Katherine heard him say, “Jackson, gimme your poncho, I need to cover him up. We’ll grab him on the way out. We’ve got a job to do people, so let’s get to it.”
Everyone’s pace was quickened when the sound of sporadic gunfire broke out north of their position.
Brent and his squad were handling the McConnell Blvd ingress and were unaware of Dallas and Katherine’s discovery. His team used cover and concealment to efficiently work their way toward the shooter. It didn’t take long to find the sentry perched in a broken window of the Arena District Athletic Club. As they approached the Columbus Union Station Arch, one bullet was a little too close for comfort. Brent started to reflexively reach for a grenade on the man next to him so he could chuck it through the window when a distant shot rang out.
“McConnell is clear,” crackled over the radio in James’ unmistakable baritone.
“Well, that problem’s been solved,” Brent stated. “Let’s go. Stay against the buildings.”
The General’s team only went a few dozen more yards before he gave the signal to halt and assemble on him.
“Okay, boys,” he began. “This is where I get off. ‘Jugg’, you’re in command while I deviate and call in the artillery. Move your asses up the block, then turn west. You’ve got fifteen minutes to clear any stragglers off of the street. Do yourselves a favor and don’t be anywhere near that intersection. I’m not all that sure where the first shot’s gonna go.”
“Copy that, General. Give ‘em hell, sir.”
* * *
The three remaining squads comprising Katherine’s platoon redirected a couple dozen dazed and unarmed foot-draggers that had exited random alleys and buildings north toward the open field for the round up. Very few shots were being fired. The mere show of force was having the effect she had desired all along.
According to her FOs, TK was holed up in a building across the street from Huntington Park. Presumably, it was to keep an eye on his cash crop. They had until 5:45 to find him and clear the area. If they were successful, the planned barrage from the Sheriff wouldn’t be needed.
As they worked their way north, Dallas’ team met zero resistance for the first block and half. Then all hell broke loose. A wall of lead began raining down on them from above.
“Cozzins Street is taking heavy fire!” he practically yelled in to his walkie as they dashed toward the nearest cover. Fortunately, the road was still littered with abandoned cars from the HANE months earlier. Dallas and his men quickly dove under or behind the closest hulk they could find.
“East side high rise! Maybe third or fourth floor!” he barked giving James’ team of shooters some place to begin their scan of the area.
After a few of the longest seconds of his life, he heard the worst thing he could possibly hear.
“Damn it! No joy! I don’t have a shot! I say again, no shot!”
Katherine, Brent, and Dallas all knew what was in that building. According to her FO’s, TK’s headquarters wasn’t heavily fortified on the exterior. Unfortunately, they’d never been able to lay eyes inside the structure except for what could be seen through the window.
“Help’s on its way,” came across the airwaves like the soft whisper of a baby’s breath as the bullets continued to fall.
“What are we supposed to do now, Dallas!” one of his men asked. “We’re pinned down here!” he concluded as he attempted to be heard over the gunfire.
“Keep your ass under this car until the ‘all clear’ is given is what you’re going to do!” their leader retorted.
He then began scanning the area to see where everyone was positioned. Most of his squad were under cover on the east side of the street, same as the shooters. This was both a blessing and a curse as neither force could get a clean line of sight. Two men sat behind what used to be a small truck until someone burned it to the ground months earlier.
Dallas quickly got their attention and flashed numerous hand signals at them. In response, they slowly raised their weapons. One peered over the hood of the vehicle while the other leaned ever so slightly around it.
A fresh round of fire in their general direction met their movement. Their team leader could only shake his head as the bullets sparked on the ricochet off of the street and truck.
“Damn it!” he muttered under his breath cursing his initiative. “Come with me,” he said to the man next to him as he started backing his way out from under the car.
The two men shimmied on their bellies for a few seconds until they were both clear of the under carriage and kneeling behind the vehicle. Without saying a word, Dallas handed him his AR-15 and took the man’s hunting rifle.
“On the count of three, give me some covering fire and spray those corner windows. I’ll scoot across and see if I can’t end this little stand off a little sooner.”
“Roger that,” the squad member replied.
He then turned toward the two men and relayed a similar hand signal. They nodded their understanding.
Before starting his countdown, he took a few deep breathes in an attempt to muster the courage for the insane idea he was about to execute.
“No time like the present,” he said as his began. “Three, two, one… covering fire!” he bellowed as he began his run.
The man next to him popped up and barely aimed as he pulled the trigger repeatedly and started spraying holy hell out of the building. The men across the street did likewise. What followed was the most harrowing handful of seconds of Dallas’ entire life.
* * *
“Rodin! Rodin! Come in Rodin!” Grappler radioed in excitedly.
“Slow down, Grap. What have you got?” she asked slowly and deliberately.
“We found her!”
“Traci! Where?!” Katherine replied ecstatically.
“The last apartment on the first floor was a romper room of sorts. She was strapped to a bed with a half dozen other women.”
“How does she look!” she replied enthusiastically.
“She’s in pretty bad shape,” he said more somberly. “All of them are. It’s going to take months for them to recover physically. I don’t know if they ever will emo
tionally. They’ve pretty much been through hell and back.”
“Copy that. Anything else?”
“You could say that… believe it or not, but the madam is TK’s wife and boy is she a wealth of intel!”
What a disgusting pig, Katherine thought.
“I’ll radio in once Sapper 1 (Jake) and his squads are done checking the rooms for ordnance and contraband. I don’t have a full SitRep yet,” Grappler added.
“Copy that. Keep her talking and radio in any new intel.”
“Roger.”
* * *
Brent exited the small lane connecting McConnell Street to Neil Avenue and ran almost headlong into Katherine’s team. He was nearly shot by accident for his trouble.
“It’s War God! Don’t shoot me for crying out loud!” he exclaimed in raised voice.
“Brent! I’ve got an idea!” Katherine said as he approached. “What were the gun laying calcs targeting? Dead center of the intersection, right?”
“Yeah,” he answered hesitantly. “Why?”
“Because I’m not in a dying mood and I don’t want to lose anyone, not one single soul. Grappler found Traci so there’s no need to storm TK’s headquarters. I’m thinking we just level the damn thing and be done with it!”
“Whoa!” Brent said clearly taken aback by the suggestion. “You sure you can live with that? You don’t know who or what’s in there.”
“Hold that thought,” she declared as she pulled her handset close to her mouth. “Grappler, Sapper 1, do you copy?”
“This is Sapper 1. Go ahead, Rodin,” came an immediate reply.
“Find Grappler and the madam and ask her to answer one question: what’s in TK’s building.”
“Copy that. Hold one,” Jake replied.
“If he comes back and says it’s just TK and his cronies, I’m leveling the place. Any human shields we have to go in. Agreed?”
Brent nodded. What could he really say? Tim and this gang were a blight that required extermination.
Barely a minute passed before Jake was on the line.
“Good news,” he began. “He’s turned it into a hoarder’s wet dream. Place is pretty much an ammo dump, supermarket, and marijuana dispensary rolled into one. According to her, it’s just him and his cronies.”
Katherine looked at her mic confused.
“Next time… do yourself a favor, let go of the button first,” he added. “How long have we got to get clear?”
She half smiled, shook her head in disbelief, and then glanced at her watch.
“Five minutes.”
* * *
Dallas deliberately moved his finger off of the trigger guard and was about to take a second shot when his radio squawked.
“Clear the area! Incoming ETA five minutes! Clear the area!”
He exhaled slowly, taking in the broadcast message, wrapped his index finger around the trigger and squeezed ever so slightly.
The echo from the blast of the .308 bounced and ricocheted off of the downtown buildings. Once it dissipated, he queued his handset, “Two down. Three left. How are you doing upstairs?”
“Almost there,” was the labored reply. “Twenty seconds.”
The fire team from Hanover Street had finished their sweep and was currently en route to Dallas’s position. They hadn’t encountered a single person. The FO’s had been correct about the distribution of people in the downtown area, but everything still needed to be swept. The squad had spent last several minutes hoofing it up a half dozen flights of stairs to reach a position parallel to the shooters.
“Taking positions now.”
“Fire when ready,” he reported.
“Copy that. We’re gonna break the rest of this glass window out with some office furniture and then we’ll send a hand grenade over there for good measure.”
Dallas waited what seemed like an interminable amount of time before hearing, “Three, two, one… watch yourself,” being announced over the radio frequency for all to hear.
He looked up in time to see a desk being shoved through a window. The heavy object went right through the glass and crashed onto the street. The disintegration of the wood coupled with the falling glass sent the men below into ‘duck and cover’ mode. Bullets began flying in an attempt to keep the opposing force’s heads down. As several members opened fire, one of the half dozen ‘Willie Pete’ (white phosphorous) grenades Josh had procured from the DSCC was thrown into the shooters lair.
Screams and death throes emanated from the opening as it exploded.
Immediately following the original grenade was a frag. Anyone rolling around writhing in pain was quickly put out of their misery.
“Hold the artillery barrage, Katherine. We believe we have the site neutralized. Let us clear the building to be sure,” Dallas said into his mic.
“Copy that. You have an additional five minutes. Move it or lose it!”
Chapter 27
Given the new force information, Josh changed his tactics, to a degree. He was planning on continuing his observation of the surrounding area and keeping the downtown response that had welcomed the French in place. However, he had spent the evening and early morning hours painting signs. Once a set was complete, he sent riders out to erect them along several of the more probable road entry points.
His concentration was broken when Sophie, who had been standing behind him observing, loudly exited the Sheriff’s office.
“Sam! I can’t take it anymore! The man’s lost his mind!” she declared as she called out for his wife.
Josh just smirked at her pronouncement.
Several minutes later, Samantha entered the building calling his name. When he finally answered, she found him in his old cell. He’d turned the bedframe into a table of sorts. In the corner, standing on end, was what remained of the two foot by two foot square pieces of plywood. Between his feet sat an old can of black paint.
“Sweetie, what are doing?” she asked compassionately.
“Just sending the Red Coats a little message that we know they are en route is all,” he replied proudly.
“You sure that’s a very good idea?”
“Absolutely!” he answered incredulously as he stopped painting, stood, and turned toward her.
“Put yourself in their shoes,” he began. “I’m serious, if you were them, and someone left messages while you were on your way to your mission objective, and the messages were able to accurately detail your entire hellish journey, what would be your thought process?”
“A sane person would turn around,” she started to reply then sighed. “But a soldier would attempt to complete the mission, no matter what.”
“Exactly!”
“So what’s the point of the signs then?”
“Think of it as psychological warfare,” he answered as he turned back toward his latest message. “I’m actively changing their mindset before they even enter the town.”
“Mr. Simmons,” a child said from the hallway. “Are you down there?”
The pair straightened up, and looked at each other confused by the innocent sounding voice. Sam leaned back through the cell door to see who it was. Her husband just started walking toward the sound. He quickly turned the corner in front of her and began heading up the forty feet of cell block hallway.
As he drew closer to the figure, he was able to discern the face of a little girl in the knee length nightgown.
“Rachael,” Josh said softly in a comforting tone. “Is that you?”
The young girl nodded her head.
“Sweetie, what are you doing out of bed?” his wife asked directly behind him.
“Hi, Sam!” she stated excitedly as she began waving.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Josh wonder aloud, concerned. “Is everything alright at home? Where are your parents?”
She crinkled her nose and made a funny face at him as he started to kneel in front of her.
“He sounds like my mom,” little Rachael directed over his shoulder to S
am. She smiled a knowing smile in return.
“Okay, Rach,” Sam said as if it were an old friend. “Give it to me straight. What’s going on?”
Josh turned to look at her bewildered.
His wife whispered, “It’s a thing we do. Just go with it.”
“I’ve got a big problem,” she declared as she placed her hands on her tiny waist.
“Oh, I see,” came Sam’s pre-planned response. “Is it big like your stuffed koala or big like your bike?”
“Bigger,” the girl declared continuing her emphasis. “Big as a man!” she concluded with her arms outstretched in despair.
“You don’t say!” his wife replied. “Why don’t you pull up a chair and tell me about it.”
“Okay,” Rachael replied cheerfully.
As Sam and the girl walked toward the Sheriff’s office hand in hand, Josh whispered in a hushed tone, “What is this?”
“She was tired of being treated like a baby because she’s five, so we came up with this game.”
“Is this something important or can I go back to painting signs?” he wondered.
“Oh, give the girl three minutes of your time. She’s here looking for you,” she declared and then turned her attention to Rachael. “So, are you gonna sit in the big chair behind the desk or one of these in front of it?” Samantha asked the Kindergartner.
“Mr. Simmons should sit in the big chair. That way he can’t get away,” Rachael stated in more serious tone.
Sam smiled down at her. “You’re probably right. He does tend to wander off, doesn’t he?”
The child nodded and then pulled Sam to the two seats in front of the desk. Once they were all situated, Rachael ordered, “Raise your right hand.”
Josh half chuckled at the request, but did as asked.
“Now repeat after me. I, Mr. Simmons.”
By the Dawn's Early Light Page 32
