by Chase Austin
The man in the boots stopped at the cry and squatted beside Quinn. A pistol appeared in his right hand. With his left, he grabbed Quinn’s collar and without any warning put a bullet in his head. Quinn couldn’t even understand what had happened to him. His brains wasted on the floor.
Kevin turned his face to the other side. Reid and Brian did the same too. But it was Patricia who was finding it impossible to believe what had happened. An innocent patient was shot without any reason and none of them could do anything. She almost shrieked but couldn’t, as if her fear had grabbed her throat. Her tears flowed uninhibited, but she kept quiet.
The man grabbed Quinn’s leg and dragged him to the door; then left him there to keep the door open. The militant then walked away, probably to find other targets. Once they felt that the killer was gone, Reid whispered from behind, “Let’s move.” He himself crawled away. Brian followed him but a hand gripped his right leg. He looked back. Another patient who had been in a road accident.
“Help me! I don’t want to die...!” the patient cried.
Brian tried to turn back to help him and jerked his leg to smooth his movement. The patient’s grip loosened, letting his leg go free. Their eyes met.
The other door of the ward opened, and someone entered the room. The visitor looked at the yelping patient and shot him twice at the back. Brian saw his eyes going lifeless. The man then grabbed his foot and dragged him away. Brian’s fear made him crawl further under the safety of the bed, taking as little space as was humanly possible.
As soon as the killer took the dead patient out of the ward, the four of them crawled out into the other side of the ward where a door was semi-open.
Patricia was the first to enter the darkened corridor that had a large window where it ended. Sunlight lit up the corridor, and she suddenly saw an opportunity to escape. Getting up as fast as she could, she ran towards the window, shouting for help.
“Here! Over here!”
Khalid heard Patricia’s cries on the other side of the hallway and walked fast to turn at the corner. He immediately saw an easy target. He aimed his pistol at Patricia’s back and shot three rounds. She was almost at the window. The momentum of the gunshots further pushed her moving body into the windowpane. The bullets penetrated her body and emerged out leaving big holes, smashing the window glass. Patricia’s lifeless body jerked forward. Dr. Reid who was behind her at the exit hid in time behind a stationary table kept near the door. His eyes widened as he saw Patricia’s limp body hitting the windowsill and then disappearing. Moments later he heard a thudding sound.
He forcefully muffled his screams. He heard the shooter’s footsteps approaching the table, and he didn’t know if retracing his steps back inside the ward would be a good idea.
Khalid stopped at the table, his eyes staring at the windowsill, where a moment ago there had been a human being. Dr. Reid made himself as small as possible. Any movement meant death. He did not dare look at the killer but he still couldn’t stop the smell of death from surrounding him.
Despite the darkness, Khalid could’ve easily found his next target cowering near his feet, only if he had looked down, but his eyes remained focused at the window. He could hear the police chatter outside the window, and he couldn’t give out his position. He turned around and went back to the safety of the darkness. He still had a lot of things to accomplish.
Kevin and Brian who were still in the general ward behind Reid were shell-shocked at the turn of the events. In a matter of minutes, their world had turned upside down. Two of their colleagues were dead.
Kevin checked Reid who seemed to be frozen at his place. He seemed to have no strength to tread further. Kevin knew that their safety lay in movement. He walked forward in his crouching position in order to pull Reid back into the ward. As soon as he reached Reid, he checked the corridor and from behind the table, saw one of the militants shooting at someone else. He looked back at Brian and Reid, and with his right hand pointed at the next opened door. Brian moved first and quickly covered the distance in the same bent position.
“Doc, let’s go,” Kevin whispered, shaking Dr. Reid. Reid looked at Kevin as if he had woken up from a long slumber. “We need to move,” Kevin whispered while pointing at the door. Reid’s eyes moved to where Kevin was pointing, and he saw Brian’s back. He followed him without question. Kevin followed the two and as soon as he was inside, Brian locked the door. Reid, who was now back in control, blocked the door with a heavy steel table.
The sound of the table in the deserted corridor attracted the attention of shooters.
Inside, the three of them heard footsteps approaching and saw the door trembling. The door was locked from inside and the thumping on the door grew exponentially high within minutes. The door looked like it could give up any minute now.
Outside the door, Khalid ordered two of his men, “You two, go and cover the adjacent corridor.”
Inside, the three of them were panicking.
“What now?” Brian asked.
“This way. Come on.” Reid signaled towards the second door of the room.
Kevin pushed opened the door but then had to slam it shut immediately.
The two shooters had torched the corridor. The fire spread quickly and without warning, spreading onto the stairs. That corridor had mostly the general wards. All locked. The fire in that corridor meant that whoever was inside would soon be dead because of the heat and the suffocation.
“It’s ugly down there. Check the other door!” Kevin shouted. Reid opened another door that led to the adjacent corridor but found the way blocked by patients and a few nurses. All scared but unhurt till now.
“What’s going on?” one of the patients asked Reid.
“Everything will be alright,” one of the nurses tried to console him.
“You need to run. Don’t stand out in the open. Hide now.” Reid yelled at the group. Hearing the warning, the group suddenly started to scramble in all directions. Kevin and Brian pushed through the crowd.
Suddenly, the militants appeared at the far side of the hallway and started shooting with a vengeance. But the three of them managed to drag as many people as they could with them inside the two opposite wards nearby.
“Get down!” Brian shouted. Kevin sprinted towards the door. Reid was in the opposite ward. Once inside he turned back to close the door and saw the nurse who was consoling the patient, lying inert in a pool of blood in the corridor.
“They are here.” They heard one of the shooters shouting and rushing towards the wards. Reid’s eyes met Kevin’s who was standing at the edge of his ward and they both shut their respective ward doors with full force. Others jammed the door with beds and cabinets.
“Stay away from the door. Take cover,” Kevin shouted. Reid was doing the same in the opposite ward.
The militants banged the doors. Soon more joined them.
“Wait.” Khalid suddenly seemed alert.
Kevin and Dr. Reid heard the commotion silenced, but the shooters were still outside, they knew.
Militant #1: “What...?”
Khalid: “Someone is coming.”
Militant #2: “I cannot hear anything.”
Khalid: “Shut up and listen.”
Meanwhile, Kevin looked at Brian, “We’re sitting ducks here. We need to leave this room.” The only way out was the large windows of the ward. ‘Could they jump and still be alive?’ Kevin wondered. But he didn’t know. On the ward on the other side, Dr. Reid was thinking the same thing. ‘There were patients and there were nurses. Would they survive the jump from this height to the ground?’
There was no more banging on the doors.
Dr. Reid and Kevin listened hard.
The silence outside was eerie. Had they left?
Chapter 29
Despite killing as they willed, Khalid felt an uneasiness. It seemed as if the noose was tightening on him. The hospital was now a deserted playground. The rooms were either locked or vacant. Wasting bullets on the people
inside wasn’t prudent. The approaching footsteps and the darkness made him question his training and belief system.
“What should we do?” one of the shooters asked. Khalid remained silent. The uniforms were inching closer.
“What now?” The shooter shook him wildly. Khalid looked at him with disbelief. He was back to his reality. He was fighting for his brothers and sisters. He had to avenge them.
“This is it. This is our moment of truth. We’ll fight them. This floor is now our fort. We will kill or die.” Khalid’s voice was feverish. Others raised their guns in unison. This was their training’s last lesson. Kill or die trying. No other option.
They quickly took positions: two each at the two staircases, and two each at the two windows, using the sidewall as their cover.
Waiting for the uniforms, Khalid checked his watch and a derisive smile seemed to appear on his lips. Over the next ten minutes, twelve vehicles were going to explode on the streets of Manhattan, Houston, and Philadelphia. Three each at the Farmer’s Terminal Market and at the Union Square Park and six in the parking lot of Marina and Onyx.
Chapter 30
Onyx Hotel, The Marina, Houston
On the second floor, Olivia locked her office, switched the lights off and ducked under the table. She pulled the intercom along with her. The wired set was connected to every other telephone in the hotel. As long as it worked, she would find someone to come and save her. The office had glass partitions separating it from the rest of the space. A few minutes later, she saw the silhouette of a man in the hall, busy checking every cabin, opening and closing the glass doors. A rifle hung from on his right shoulder. She retreated further under the table, furiously praying, sweating and crying incessantly.
The shooter was two doors away from Olivia’s office, when something captured his attention. It was the sound of soft music coming from the adjacent corridor. The militant moved away.
Olivia heaved a sigh of relief, semi-collapsing on the floor, when she heard a gun-blazing and a blast, followed by screams. Then she heard a loud bang at the west wing of the hotel. It had multiple guest rooms. She could only imagine what was going on in that part of the hotel.
The grenade blast had started a fire on the second floor. Fueled by the powerful centralized air conditioning system, the choking smoke had started to spread across the second floor. In the darkness, Olivia couldn’t see it, but her chest started to burn. Her lungs badly needed fresh air but going out of the room wasn’t going to save her. The whole second floor had turned toxic.
The heat finally switched on the water sprinkler on the second floor.
Chapter 31
Onyx Hotel, The Marina, Houston
Mike-Noyon was lying on the carpeted floor of the Monarch Room of the Onyx towers, watching at the hundreds of bodies lying on the floor, limbs tangled with each other in the darkness. Bullets raged through the room in quick succession above them.
Mike-Noyon and his wife were here to attend the wedding of their dear friend’s son. The place held a special place in their hearts. This was the same venue where they had their own daughter’s wedding a few months ago. The gentle music and the hubbub of the guests were occasionally broken up by the sounds of what people perceived as the clamor of some construction going in the hotel.
No one paid any heed when two young boys appeared outside the glass door. They both smiled looking at the carefree guests, enjoying the wine and soft music. Then, two guns were leveled against the glass door and they pressed the trigger. The glass door shattered with a loud noise. The first few bullets pierced through a couple dancing near the door, throwing their lifeless bodies on the carpeted floor. The two militants didn’t stop there. Moving further in the room, they shot at anything that moved. The room echoed with the sound of smashed cutlery, broken glass, flying wood, and the screams of hundreds of guests. A few people at the far end of the corner took out their cell phones. They needed to let someone know about their situation.
“Hello everyone,” one of the militants spoke loudly to the still breathing people in the room. “So, how is everyone doing today?”
Chapter 32
Onyx Hotel, The Marina, Houston
Eight officers from the Houston Police Department (HPD) were near the Marina when they received the call on their radio. They were told of gunshots at the Onyx in Marina. When they reached the hotel, the gunshots had silenced but they could see the dead bodies outside the hotel. After much deliberation, the team decided to enter the building through the entrance at the Sage Road from the loading dock ‘L’.
Without knowing the building’s blueprint, it was impossible to navigate through the corridors. The hotel’s security manager eventually stepped in to help them navigate the hotel. But that was not the only problem. Initial reports had indicated the presence of two young shooters and the team had planned the infiltration keeping in mind this number. Armed with the semi-automatic SIG Sauer P226 DAO service weapons, the team’s aim was to take control of the hotel, but what they didn’t know was that these were not just some street thugs or gang members.
They realized this truth as soon as they reached the hotel’s reception lobby.
Shahrukh had known what would happen, and he had placed two of the boys in search of any moving target from that direction. So when the officers arrived, a barrage of fire came their way. The officers fired in return, but the semi-automatic guns weren’t enough to counter the two heavily-loaded Kalashnikovs. Eight against two and still the stakes were heavily skewed in favor of the two militants. The fire was strong and there was no way these ill-equipped officers would be able to overcome it. The best thing was to withdraw the attack for the time being.
The retreat was swift and sudden. The eight officers made sure they provided sustained cover fire before the terrorists could gauge and understand their strategy.
What they didn’t know that this failed attack had suddenly given the terrorist an impetus to fast track their plan.
Chapter 33
Onyx Hotel, The Marina, Houston
Barring the two gunmen manning the first floor, the rest of them had started to comb each floor for hostages. Their instructions were clear – Capture as many hostages as possible, kill those who fail to comply.
Shahrukh had chosen Onyx’s tenth floor’s ballroom as their operations base for the next few hours.
Tactically, they were fortifying their position while the various agencies scrambled outside to prepare for a response to this massacre. Over a hundred Houston police department officers, many of them armed with the latest weapons, and tens of Cruisers, converged at the Marina but none of them entered the premises.
They were waiting for the Marines or the SWAT teams to act, but the eight terrorists were not going to wait. They knew what they had to do. Three of the militants landed at the top two floors of the hotel with bottles of liquor from the Lobby Bar. Kicking open every suite, they drenched the walls, floors, drapes, and carpets with alcohol and set them alight. This was because Shahrukh knew that the Americans would try to enter the hotel and the most effective way was from the top. The burning top floors would not only diminish that possibility, but the erupting flames would also strongly announce to the world that only a handful of people could bring the most powerful nation to its knees.
The whole of America saw the red flames flaring up at the top of the building. This and the twelve simultaneous blasts sent the TV and the Internet in a tizzy. Every channel was ablaze with live images of destruction in every city. Every reporter with a mic and a camera started to propagate every plausible theory with extreme confidence without discerning how it would affect their audience’s psyche. Several news reports started to flood the Internet that the White House itself was under attack. In the blind race of getting the biggest ‘breaking news’, these media avenues broke every journalism rule ever written.
The fog of war had enveloped everyone. Extreme panic had set across cities. From all across the country, false alarms were reported
from multiple establishments, crowded locations and every place that anyone ever thought could be bombed. Panic-stricken citizens started to call 911 about anyone and everyone they suspected to be a terrorist in their vicinity. No one – neither the people nor the administration – knew what was real and what wasn’t. In a matter of hours, it started to seem as if thousands of terrorists had taken over the whole of America.
The siege of America had begun: an audacious operation planned with military precision and ruthlessly executed in the heart of USA.
Chapter 34
Yasin was watching everything on the TV screen, clapping and shouting. At the Taliban mission control rooms especially set up near the Durand Line (Afghan-Pakistan Border) and at the secluded location in Texas, twenty Taliban handlers, were also at work. They were wearing headsets and speaking English, Urdu, and Punjabi into the Internet telephone connections on eight laptops to motivate and direct the eight shooters at the Onyx. The rest of the shooters didn’t have mobile phones, but for Onyx, Yasin had other plans. Each one of the eight shooters were provided with burner cells with only call incoming facility.
