by N. C. Reed
“We're behind, rolling,” Maseo said from the driver's seat of the Hummer behind them.
“Let’s go to town then,” Gordy said to himself as he concentrated on the road in front of him.
It was just over two miles from the city limits to the factory.
-
“I hear them,” Juarez whispered so softly that Clay thought he had imagined it until he felt the other man's hand slap his shoulder lightly.
“Got it,” he nodded and tightened his rifle against his shoulder. The laser showed clearly in his NVG and settled on the chest of the only man in sight.
“Firing,” Clay whispered and pulled the trigger. The suppressed rifle made a too-loud-for-comfort pop and the man slid down the front of the truck.
“We need to move that truck,” Clay told Juarez. “We may need it.”
“Roger that,” Juarez nodded as the two sprinted for the vehicle. As Clay stood guard Juarez started the truck and pulled it far enough away not to be in the way before killing the motor again.
“Alf, what are you doing?” a voice came from inside. Clay drew his knife as Juarez knelt behind him with his rifle trained on the door.
“Alf!” the voice called again, more insistently. “What the hell are you doing you jacka-”
Clay's knife cut off the rest of the question as it slammed into the throat of the man that emerged, the same man that had rode in with 'Alf' from the look of him. Clay drug the man out of the way of the door, wiped and sheathed his knife and pulled his rifle forward.
“Moving,” he said simply and stepped through the open door.
A figure stepped out of a room to the left, the office if Clay recalled right, and received a three-round burst in his chest. Juarez leaned into the room and fired another burst into a man grabbing for a rifle that was sitting on the desk inside.
“Clear,” he called as Clay moved past him, kicking in another door across and down from that one. Two men were almost to that door coming to investigate and fell in two quick bursts, still struggling to comprehend what was happening.
“Four down,” Clay said, not counting the driver and passenger of the truck, just in case. “Moving.”
“Trailing,” Juarez called, following Clay and keeping an eye out behind them.
The next door, to the left again this time, was the door to the office break room and led to the larger cafeteria that had once been used by the plant workers. One man was exiting and Clay shot him in the chest, stepping over his body and into the break room to clear it. As he was checking the back of the room the door from the cafeteria burst open and three men ran inside, the lead with a flashlight. Juarez switched to full auto fire and simply hosed the trio down rather than risk his night vision to the flash light. All three fell in a tangle of arms and legs.
Clay had trusted his comrade to watch his back and continued to try and clear the room before they moved forward. The green light of the goggle fell on a prone figure that he could tell was crawling on the floor, hands covering her head. If his image were anything like correct she wasn't wearing much.
“Easy,” he told her in a harsh, urgent whisper. “We 'll get you out of here, okay? I need you to stay calm and quiet while we-”
“OH, THANK GOD!” the woman practically screamed even as Clay was warning her to stay quiet. “Get me out of here!”
“Lady for Christ's sake, shut up!” Clay told her. “Stay quiet and stay down until we finish clearing-” he was cut off in mid-sentence as the woman before him moved, bringing a handgun up to point in his general direction. Clay didn't hesitate, three rounds stitching across the woman before she could pull the trigger.
“Son-of-a-bitch, she was one of them!” Clay told Juarez who was still watching behind them. Clay changed magazines, waiting as Juarez did the same, and then the two stood.
“We can't even be sure that all the women in here are prisoners,” Clay ground out.
“Moving,” Juarez nodded as he took the point. He pointed to the cafeteria door and Clay stood to the side to pull it open, flinching as gunfire erupted from within, splintering the door and the wall above their heads as both men knelt. Juarez pulled a fragmentation grenade from a pouch on his belt, pulled the pin and counted. At three he tossed the grenade through the door, hearing it skip once, then again before Clay let the door close and they both took cover behind an overturned table.
The blast blew the door back in on them and two screams could be heard even as the din of the explosion rocked through the building. The two of them waited for a count of three before Clay opened the door once more and Juarez burst through, weapon tracking wherever he looked. A figure moved along the floor, feeling for a rifle that Juarez could see in the light of the NVG. He shot the crawling form in the back and scanned the rest of the room.
“Clear,” he called out.
“Clear,” Clay confirmed. “Moving,” Clay took point now as the two of them went through the cafeteria's factory floor exit. Here was real danger. Once on the floor, there might be a myriad of places for an enemy to hide, and now there was the added complication that not every woman they encountered could be considered a victim. Clay cursed his own complacency for not having asked that of any of the men he'd dispatched on the way here. He shook it off as Juarez opened the door. Too late to worry about that now.
“Left!” Juarez called, firing a burst at a man that stood up from behind what looked like packing crates with an AK. The man spun as a trio of slugs stitched him from belt to collar bone.
“Ten down,” Juarez noted. “Eleven counting the woman.”
“Roger that,” Clay acknowledged. “Motion ahead.” The two of them made their way to what had apparently once been a tool room. Securely made but cramped, Clay could see perhaps fifteen women crammed into the cage. All were moving but were cowering on the floor, unable to see in the dark.
“Are any of you injured?” Clay asked, wincing as several women screeched at hearing the voice out of the dark.
“Any injuries!” Clay was more insistent when no one replied.
“I think we're all okay, more or less,” one woman finally said, and Clay thought he recognized the voice.
“Miss Walters?” he asked evenly.
“Y-yes,” he heard the stammered reply, though her voice was firm for all of that.
“Stand by Miss Walters,” he told her. “We need to clear the building.”
“O-okay,” came the confused reply.
“Moving,” Clay said over his shoulder as he and Juarez took off.
“Who was that?” Clay heard someone ask as they moved away.
“I'm not sure but his voice sounded familiar,” he heard Samantha Walters reply. After that it was just a buzz of conversation.
Great.
-
Abigail wasn't positive but assumed that gunfire meant that someone was attacking the people holding her prisoner. While that didn't make them her friend, it did make them her enemy's enemy and that was a start. Inching her way across the floor, she raised her feet and began kicking on the door that held her captive. Her hands were beginning to go numb and she worried that if she didn't get the cuffs off soon she might suffer permanent damage.
“Hey!” she yelled between kicks. “In here! Help!” she repeated the pleas over and over between kicking the door. Her only chance was to get help from whoever this was and pray they were better people than those who held her now.
“Hey!”
-
Gordy found that he enjoyed driving the heavy Cougar MRAP very much.
The beast of a vehicle had a slow top speed of maybe sixty, but he figured it would do that same sixty miles per hour going up a hill as easy as it could on a straightaway. By the time they had hit the city limits he had topped the rig out but slowed as he began to see the torches and barrels that Barnes had warned would be present once inside town.
He watched the road before him for spikes or other obstructions and kept his peripheral vision geared toward movement off to his si
des. He could depend on Thompson to watch their flanks until they came under fire, but that didn't mean he wouldn't watch as well.
“Target, two o'clock,” Thompson's calm voice came through the ear piece in his ear. “Engaging.” Gordy felt the heavy rig shudder slightly as the Mk 19 grenade launcher began to belch rounds. Seconds later a string of three explosions lit up the night off to his right and Gordy keyed his own mike.
“Lights lights lights!” he cried, then reached over and flipped the series of switches that activated forward facing and side facing spots mounted on the Cougar's frame above the windows. The world around him lit up and he raised his eye piece, shutting off the night vision as he'd been instructed. Behind them he could hear the machine gun on the Hummer began to hammer.
He couldn't help but laugh. This was every bit as exhilarating as any football game he'd ever played, despite the fact that he was scared shitless.
“Factory coming up on your right,” he warned into the radio.
“Roger that,” Maseo's voice answered while Jody Thompson merely banged on the roof of the MRAP twice in acknowledgment.
“Hold on!” he yelled to Thompson as he wheeled the big rig into the parking lot of the store in front of the factory, heading straight in. There was a wrecked car, burned out now, obstructing them and Gordy floored the Cougar and crashed through it without even slowing.
“Yeah!” he yelled, laughing once more.
This shit was fun!
-
“I think our ride may be here,” Juarez said as they heard a crash from the front of the building followed by the hammering of a fifty caliber.
“Sounds as-” Clay stopped and held up a fist.
“Hear that?” he asked and Juarez nodded.
“Moving,” Clay told him and started making his way through a small hallway. The banging was getting louder, though he still couldn't make out what was being said.
“Closet,” Juarez pointed and Clay nodded, moving that way. They each took a side and Clay nodded once before opening the unlocked door and pulling it open.
“Hel-” Abigail's screech cut off in mid scream and her feet failed to meet the resistance of the door, hitting the floor instead with a loud thud. “Ow!”
“Get up,” a furious Clay reached inside and pulled his niece to her feet, ignoring her squabbling about her arms and hands. She recognized his voice and began to try and speak but Clay cut her off.
“Cuffs,” he told Juarez, who nodded and produced a key to unlock the restraints.
“Did you guys find-” she began but felt Clay's hand roughly over her mouth.
“Shut up,” he told her harshly. “You don't get to speak and you damn sure don't get to ask questions. Keep your mouth shut and do exactly as you're told. Got it? Nod, don't talk.”
She nodded, unable to see him, her face burning at having been spoken to like a child.
“Mission goals met,” Clay said into radio. “Building is not, repeat not clear, but there are eleven Tangos down including one female. Located one group of captives being held on main factory floor. We're moving to their location now. Secondary goal is there. We need someone inside to assist in moving them out. Rough count is fifteen, so we 'll squeeze them inside the Cougar. How copy?”
“Solid Copy,” Barnes replied between bursts of machine gun fire. “Be aware we are drawing flies in a hurry. Cougar is backed to the door. Doc on the ground, he and Chip are coming to you while Tommy and I provide cover. Suggest you expedite.”
“No shit,” Clay muttered even as he keyed his radio. “Roger that.” He looked to Juarez.
“Back to the cage, double time.”
“Moving,” Juarez nodded and led the way while Clay pulled his niece along since she couldn't see.
“Who is-”
“I told you to shut up,” Clay shut her down. “Speak again and I'll leave you in the dark.” He thought he could hear her jaw snap closed and nodded to himself. That was fine.
They reached the cage and Clay stood watch as Juarez worked to open the door, the women inside squirming in fear and apprehension.
“Calm down ladies,” he told them as he finally managed to get the lock busted and the door open. “Can everyone move okay?” he asked. No one said they couldn't.
“All right, get on your feet and be ready,” Juarez told them. “We have a vehicle waiting. We're headed out, so if you want to stay in town you're on your own. We can take you south to a shelter in Jordan that may take you, I don't know. Your choice but make it quickly.”
“Can't we go with you?” one asked.
“Ma'am, the last place you want to be is with us,” Juarez assured her.
“Coming in,” Maseo's voice came to them just then and soon he and Gordy were in front of them.
“Doc, none of them are hurt bad enough they can't walk so lead them out. I'll take point. Chip, take the back of the line,” he handed off care of Abigail, “that's her. When she exits, we know we're clear. That's on you, Pancho has drag. Moving.”
“Wait!” one of the women cried. “Marissa was in the cafeteria! They took her earlier and drug her in there to-”
“She's dead,” Clay said evenly. “We found her on the way in. No more talking. If you're going with us let’s move.” And with that he started out. Maseo counted to five and then started leading the just released captives out behind him.
“I can shoot, give me a gun!” Abigail demanded.
“Where's your gun?” someone asked from the dark.
“They took it,” she replied.
“Uh huh,” was the reply. “Then just keep moving, Miss.” Fuming at such cavalier treatment Abigail didn't have much choice but to keep moving.
Clay was still ahead, ensuring that the way out was still clear. Maseo had closed to within five steps, still leading the women out, them holding each other hands as the first one kept a hand firmly attached to Maseo's gear harness. The women were blind in the dark and this was all they could do.
As Gordy was bringing up the rear one of the women went down hard, having tripped on something she couldn't see. Distracted for a second, Gordy still saw a figure rise into view from behind a stack of boxes or crates, maybe twenty feet away.
“Contact!” he called out before triggering his rifle, placing the laser just about where the target's belt buckle would be. He could see the figure stagger back as a trio of slugs slammed across him, rifle clattering onto the floor.
“Target down,” Gordy's voice was flat. He had just killed a man, but had no time to consider it. He turned back to the woman who had fallen.
“Ah!” she cried out, struggling and failing to get to her feet. Gordy was beside her in a second even as Abigail gasped out “Samantha?”
“Abby?” a trembling voice replied. “Did they get-”
“Later for that,” Gordy cut her off harshly. “Keep moving,” he told his sister. “Can you walk?” he turned back to Samantha Walters.
“I don't think so,” she replied shakily. “I…my leg is numb. Whatever I walked into, I hit my knee and now I can't feel my leg. It won't hold me.” You didn't have to be able to see her to know there were tears. “Please don't leave me,” she almost whispered.
“Nobody's being left,” Gordy told her even as he knelt and scooped the small woman up bridal style. “Keep moving,” he barked at Abigail, who had fallen behind.
“I can't see,” she was forced to admit. “Who are-”
“Shut up then, and do as you're told,” Gordy cut her off as he struggled to get Abigail back to the woman in front of her while carrying Samantha Walters. “Here. Don't lose her again.” He tried to disguise his voice but knew his sister had almost certainly figured out who he was.
“We're really drawing a crowd out here!” Barnes called, the hammering of both automatic weapons telling the same story. “Faster is better.”
“We're on our way out,” Clay promised as he saw the open door of the Cougar before him. “Get loaded,” he added over his shoulder. “Everyone
inside. You'll have to pack in tight and some may need to sit in the floor but this is the safest we can manage.”
“I need to check on my husband!” someone called from the middle of the pack.
“You want to do that you can ma'am, but we are leaving,” Clay's voice brooked no argument. “You will be on your own. Choice is yours.”
“Surely you can take-” Abigail once again began to speak only to have her Uncle nearly jerk her arm out of socket.
“Shut. Up.” He ground out yet again, directing her toward the Hummer instead of the Cougar, trying to avoid her giving them away.
“I want to check on Sam!” she tried to get away but Clay's grip was unyielding.
“Remember how that worked out last time?” Clay replied snidely. “You can check on her later when you aren't about to give away who we are. Now get inside,” he thrust her toward the open rear door of the Hummer.
“Stop treating me like a chi-” was as far as she got before the back of Clay's hand met her jaw, knocking her dizzy. And coincidentally, into the back seat of the waiting Hummer. Clay shoved her legs in behind her and slammed the door shut before she could say anything else.
Gordy placed Samantha Walters on the bench in the spot behind the driver's compartment and then settled himself behind the wheel, ready to depart.
Clay was engaging targets that showed themselves in the parking lot, covering the rest as they got everyone loaded. He was about to join Gordy when he heard Barnes groan over the radio. He turned in time to see the big man slump in the gun tub of the Hummer.
“No, no, no, no!” Clay shouted. A bullet ricocheted off the Hummer and he flinched, turning.
About thirty yards away he saw a single figure with a rifle, standing as if he were at the range, aiming right at the group. Flicking the selector on his rifle to 'auto' he brought the weapon to his shoulder and sprayed an entire magazine at the man, more to interfere with the man's aim than to actually down him.
He got lucky however and saw the man spin around, apparently caught by at least one round.
“DOC!” he screamed and Maseo ran to him from the back of the MRAP.
“Bear's hit!” he pointed at the Hummer. “Pancho! Help him! Chip, get the hell outta here! Rally point two. Ten minutes!”
