Shockwave

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Shockwave Page 18

by Norm Applegate


  Dwyer went back to studying the men coming out of the farmhouse. Saw a body on the ground, a blue blanket covering it. Nobody was paying it any attention. It's what happens when someone dies. It's human behavior; detach yourself from the dead.

  He noticed two more people walking out of the house. It caught his attention. They disappeared behind the cop’s cars. He kept staring, waiting for them to reappear. One big guy. In a police uniform, limping. It didn't look right. He was carrying a duffel bag. It looked heavy. He had it slung over his shoulder. Kind of kept him off balance. The guy looked familiar. The second guy was smaller. He recognized him. Major Kenneth Ore, he was helping the cop walk to the ambulance. Holding him by the elbow.

  Dwyer stopped beside his ambulance. Kept on looking straight at them.

  "Come on get in," Kelly Paul said.

  Dwyer put his hands on the doorframe and paused. Wanted to watch what was going on.

  The two men climbed into their ambulance. First the big guy then Major Ore.

  Dwyer saw Major Ore do something peculiar. Most people watching wouldn't have noticed it, but Dwyer did. As Ore got inside the ambulance, he turned around to close the doors from the inside. He did a quick look around to see who was watching.

  Then the doors slammed shut. The ambulance drove off.

  Chapter 41

  It wasn't the first time that Major Ore used the backup plan. He had hoped it wouldn't come to that. The intent had been for him to separate himself from Agent Miller and the other officers. Distance himself, discreetly. That was the plan. Beau's men were supposed to use the bombs. Wipe out the agents. They went in the barn to use the two hostages as cover. But they didn't come out with them.

  Major Ore made his way to the farmhouse. He picked the quickest route so he could disappear fast. He was moving, jogging, listening for the bombs to go off. They never did. He worked his way around to the back of the house. Heard shots. Too many to count. He heard moaning. The sound people make when they're dying. That's not the way you want to do it. You want to hit your target with a kill shot. One bullet, one kill. No second chance the guy could turn around and shoot back at you.

  As a result, Ore pulled out his gun. Pushed the back door open with his foot. Just a few inches. He was hiding his body behind the doorframe when he peeked into the hallway. He could taste something like copper on his tongue. He knew what it was, blood. He saw the first guy part way down the hallway. He wasn't moving. Lying on his back, spread out on the floor. Major Ore knew he was dead.

  He pushed the door to open it a bit more. The door made a noise.

  Saw the second guy, body slumped against the wall. Blood everywhere. Messy, sticky. The major pushed the door open all the way. He stepped inside. Started down the hallway. Slowly, listening, expecting sudden movement.

  Redell was standing in front of him dressed in a black swat team uniform. His pistol pointed at Major Ore.

  "About fucking time you got here," Redell said. "No screwing around, let's go straight out the front door."

  Major Ore nodded. He was walking toward Beau Redell.

  He stopped at the arched entrance into the living room. Looked to his right. Saw two of Redell's men. Dead. Shot in the back. Kind of sickened him at first. He never liked the idea of turning on your men. He'd seen it before. Every war he was in soldiers killed their own. But this was different; this was planned from the start. If it goes down and things get out of control Redell was going to do whatever was required to survive. There was always a Plan B.

  They moved to the front door.

  "You ready?" Major Ore asked.

  Redell nodded. Then winked.

  "Let's make it look good," he said.

  They hesitated for a beat. Major Ore turned the door handle and opened the door full. No point in acting like a lamb. This had to look like they needed help. Had to look like Redell was injured.

  Ore held Redell upright. Kind of had his right arm around his waist. Redell flung his left arm over Ore's shoulder. They limped out of the house. Stood on the porch. Made sure everyone watching saw who they were. Made sure everyone saw Major Ore carrying a wounded officer. One of their own dressed in a black uniform.

  They walked down three steps. Ore caught sight of paramedics.

  "Wounded," he yelled. "Coming through."

  Major Ore carried Redell to the ambulance. Officers rushed past them. Their guns drawn. Pointed toward the house. Focused on the open door ahead of them.

  Major Ore knew in the heat of battle people make decisions in microseconds. They have to. Survival depends upon it. He knew what they were staging would look convincing. He knew nobody would question Redell's injuries. They made it look real. Right to the back door of the ambulance they played their parts. Acting out a role that would fool everyone.

  Redell climbed into the back of the ambulance. He could smell a distant trace of disinfectant. Industrial cleaner. There was equipment along one side. They covered the walls of the ambulance. A paramedic followed. The other one was the driver. He circled around to the left. Climbed into the driver's seat. Major Ore was the last one in. He had both hands on the inside door handles. Started to pull the doors toward him. Stopped briefly. Did a final check to make sure the audience was buying the show. Then closed the doors.

  The engine started up. The ambulance pulled away, initially bouncing, and then sped up. Siren screaming. It swerved around the police cars. They felt it tilt to one side. They raced down the driveway to the side road. The springs were making a squeaking noise with each bump. The road was rough, lots of potholes and loose gravel. At the corner it slowed down and turned right.

  In the back, Redell laid on a stretcher. Facing up at the ceiling. Eyes open.

  The paramedic was looking him over. Looking for blood. Looking to see where he was hit. Hoping it wasn't a guy all shot up and about to die. But it wasn't that. He started to unbutton Redell's jacket. He was confused.

  "That won't be necessary," Major Ore said.

  He held a pistol to the paramedic’s neck. Had the barrel pushed hard against his skin, just below the ear. If he shot the paramedic, it would be fatal. The bullet would spiral through muscle, veins, and his throat. Blast a hole out the other side. Maybe take his jawbone out. Maybe take out the back of his head. He would die quickly.

  The paramedic froze. He didn't say anything.

  It was the way Major Ore spoke that convinced the paramedic that he was in trouble. Ore was calm and confident, focused in a manner suggesting that he had thought about this. They were being carjacked, but more importantly, they were being used as cover.

  Redell sat up. Pulled his Glock out from its holster. He twisted around to his left. It was tight. He squeezed past the paramedic. Started raising the gun. Putting it out in front of him.

  The driver sensed movement behind him. He glanced up, looking into the mirror. Kind of did a double take. Didn't understand what was going on.

  Redell kept moving. His right arm extended. The safety off. He would shoot if he had to.

  The driver saw Redell's face. Serious, hard, mean eyes. He saw something being raised. Being pointed toward him. Realized it was a gun. Realized it was meant for him. He swerved. Lost control of the vehicle for a moment. Looked at the road. Got the van under control. Looked back in the rear view mirror. Redell was positioned right behind him.

  "Easy cowboy," Redell said. "You do what you're told we all ride this out together. Got it?"

  The driver nodded. Looked at the gun. Turned around and stared straight ahead.

  Redell held it against the back of the driver’s skull. Right below the base. Just where the soft tissue of the neck meets the head.

  The driver thought about the gun. Thought about what would happen if the big guy pulled the trigger. He imagined the bullet entering his neck. Pulverizing the spinal column. Splintering bone, white bits exploding. The slug entering his grey mass. Its shockwave churning his brain into vibrating jelly. It would burst out through his face. Taking a billi
on images of his life with it. Maybe an eye would go. Would definitely be bloody. Face wounds bleed heavy. There would be a long trail of red behind it. Maybe smoke. Exit wounds are always larger than entry. Most of his face would disappear.

  "Quit thinking," Redell said. "Keep your eyes on the road."

  The driver went numb. Gripped the steering wheel and studied the street. He kept quiet. Knew there was no up side in talking.

  Major Ore poked the other paramedic. He was using the gun to push him.

  "Now it's your turn," he said. "Lie down."

  The major was pointing to the stretcher.

  The guy slipped onto it, taking the place of Redell, and laying down on his back. Major Ore placed his gun down on the floor, so it was within reach. He searched for the restraints. The lower ones down by the guy’s legs. Found both ends. Pulled them tight over the paramedic’s shins. He saw a restraint dangling below the guy’s shoulder. He grabbed it. Found the other one and buckled them together. It made a clicking sound. He yanked it hard. Then again. It was tight. The guy shot the Major a look of panic. He was looking at him like he was having a difficult time understanding what was happening. He glanced toward the driver to see whether he was all right. He was looking around the ambulance. The Major followed his field of vision and decided to push his face to the wall so he couldn't see what was going on. Then threw a white towel over his head.

  Redell turned around, looked at the paramedic on the stretcher. Major Ken Ore looked at Redell. Gave him a thumbs up.

  Redell forced a smiled. Reached into his pocket for his cell phone.

  Chapter 42

  Jack Dwyer watched the ambulance pull away. The smell of explosives had cleared. The sky was blue and the clouds looked puffy and calm. After a minute he heard something, a few feet behind him and when he turned around, Agent Hammons was walking toward him, a little hop as he favored his right leg. Hammons was staring at him.

  "You couldn't stay out of it," Hammons said. "I'm looking forward to this story."

  Dwyer looked at him. Then the ambulance. It was moving fast, almost out of sight.

  "Where's the Major?" Dwyer asked. "Have you seen him?"

  Hammons scanned the farm. Did a quick one-eighty.

  The farm was full of people. All doing their jobs. Dwyer thought there must have been fifty maybe sixty, mostly men, some women. Different uniforms, some plainclothes, most were in uniform though. Lots of weapons, all kinds and a lot of vehicles too. It was confusing, too much activity.

  "He's around somewhere," Hammons answered.

  There was silence for a long pause. Both men stared at each other.

  "What?" Hammons said. "You know something?"

  Dwyer looked for the ambulance. He stared out to the road and saw a dust trail in the distance.

  "Major Ore is in on it," Dwyer said.

  Hammons looked at him. Then shook his head. Put his hands on his hips and chuckled.

  Dwyer stood quiet. Just staring.

  "Come on now," Hammons said. "Think how stupid that sounds?"

  Dwyer stood still. Focused eyes burring into Hammons’ face.

  "You serious? No way. There's just no way," Hammons said.

  Dwyer shrugged.

  "Why would he go off in an ambulance?" Dwyer said. "Looked like Beau Redell was with him"

  Hammons' smile disappeared.

  "What are you talking about?" he asked. "Who's Beau Redell?"

  Dwyer twisted around. Pointed to the dust trail.

  "They’re both in the ambulance. Think you should find out why?"

  Hammons was staring at the road. Raised his hands over his eyes to shield them from the sun.

  "Stay here," he said to Dwyer.

  Agent Hammons moved quickly to Miller, still favoring his leg. Stood close to him, whispering something in his ear. They both turned around looking at the road. The ambulance was gone. Miller pulled his radio out from inside his jacket pocket, lifted it to his face. He pressed a button and the radio started crackling.

  "Major, get back to me ASAP," Miller said. "Major, get back to me 10-4. Where are you?"

  Both agents stood quietly waiting for a response. They waited and waited.

  Agent Miller slipped the radio back into his jacket. His face was red with anger. He walked to Dwyer.

  "You saw the Major leave in an ambulance?" Miller demanded.

  Dwyer nodded.

  Before he could say anything more. There was an explosion. It came from behind the barn. It seemed like everyone ducked as if protecting him or herself. Dwyer knew what it was. He looked at Kelly Paul. She frowned, puzzled.

  "That was the bomb around your waist," Dwyer said.

  Kelly Paul turned white, raised her right hand up to her mouth. People do that when they are shocked.

  Dwyer was looking at the barn. Looking at where the bomb detonated. He was thinking, working it. His mind was calculating. Thinking through all the possibilities one does when problem solving. Then it hit him. It was a slap in the face. Dwyer went cold. He knew how it happened. He remembered Redell's people strapping the bomb to Kelly Paul. He remembered Redell telling them all he has to do is dial a number.

  He thought about where they were. He glanced around the farm. Remembered the guy planting bombs. He realized they were out in the open, sitting ducks.

  Dwyer turned to Kelly Paul. Began moving at her like a rocket.

  "Everyone down," Dwyer yelled. "Bomb, get down."

  He was leaping in the air when it happened.

  By definition, an explosion is a release of energy, followed by a shockwave. Dwyer saw the flash of light first. Then he felt the shockwave. He was looking at Kelly Paul. Saw her hair blow across her face from the force. His arms reached her. He was on top as they slammed onto the ground. He shifted his weight. He was protecting her. Knocked the wind out of her. He felt her arms around him. Pulling him tight toward her.

  Then there was another explosion and another. In rapid fire the explosions were going off around them. The area was lit up like a supernova. Dirt was falling on Dwyer's back.

  Agent Miller's crew didn't have time to get out of the way. They thought the battle was over. Nobody was expecting a second round of violence.

  The bombs ripped across the farm. One after another, turning the air into a dust cloud. Men were screaming, high shrieks people make when limbs are blown off. It's hard to imagine what it's like to be standing one minute, then the next you're on your back. Some were dazed.

  Dwyer looked to his right. Hysterical screaming forced him to look. He saw a man lying on the ground. Trying to raise himself up. He was on his back. Propped up on one elbow. The other arm suspended in the air, shaking. The guy’s eyes were bulging. Round swollen orbs. He was staring with an unnatural expression on his face. Flecks of red dotting his skin. He was looking at his torso. It wasn't right. Dwyer could see one leg was missing. Gone from the hip socket. The ground was wet. He was lying in a small lake of blood.

  Dwyer heard more screaming, and more. It got louder. All around him men were dying. Begging for help. He sat up. Saw Redell's men, dead. Body parts missing.

  He saw movement over his right shoulder. Coming toward him. The dust was settling. Then another man. It was Agents Miller and Hammons. Miller was on his radio yelling for medical. Hammons was wiping dirt from his face.

  Dwyer stared; he was stunned. Not as bad as he had seen in the past. Not like the war. These bombs were smaller but still lethal.

  "You were right," Miller said. "Major Ore is one of them."

  Miller was talking into his radio. Looking up at the sky.

  Dwyer looked at Kelly Paul. Helped her get up.

  "You all right?” he said.

  She nodded. Brushed herself off. Glanced around and covered her mouth with her hands. Shock. Miller brushed past him and signaled Dwyer to follow. They walked along the dirt away from the farmhouse, away from the barn. Fifty yards away from ground zero out to an open area. Hammons was staying behind. Out in the f
ield the air was clear. Miller stopped suddenly and turned around. Dwyer stood beside him. They were looking at the debris. Bodies were being attended to by the remaining officers. Hammons was directing.

  Standing alone, Kelly Paul was staring back. Looking at Dwyer.

  Miller tapped Dwyer on the arm.

  "We're going in the chopper," Miller whispered.

  They saw the bird swoop over the farmhouse and around the farm to the clearing where they were standing. Miller made a circular motion with his arm. The noise got louder as it descended. They could see the pilot studying the ground. It dropped its nose and bounced twice before it settled down and hugged the ground. It was maybe eighty feet away. Miller patted him on the back. Signaling him to move toward it. Dwyer knew Miller believed him. They ducked down and ran to the chopper. Miller was signaling to the pilot to keep the engines running. The blades were spinning and dust billowed up.

  Miller opened the door first. Dwyer hesitated for a moment and climbed in. He didn't like helicopters. Slid along the bench seat. Miller stepped in after him and took the front seat. Slammed the door. He picked up a headset from the floor. Snapped it over his head and adjusted the mouthpiece.

  Dwyer couldn't hear Miller. He saw him move closer to the pilot and was talking to him. Pointing toward the highway. His hands were moving from left to right.

  He turned around and gave Dwyer a circular motion with his hands.

  The motors wound up. Accelerating out of idle. RPM increased, blue smoke shot out of the exhaust. The sound got louder. The chopper lifted off. Slowly. A few inches at first. Shook a little bit. It got louder. Then it shot up into the air. A thirty-degree angle. Banking to its left. Made a half circle then straightened out. They were headed southwest. Interstate I-95 was a couple of miles away. They raced over the trees. Climbing higher. Dwyer looked behind him. Searched the farm. Then he spotted Kelly Paul, standing alone.

  Chapter 43

  Redell and Ore fled down the highway as the chopper lifted off. They had raced along the side road and through some winding turns. It led them out of the farm area and onto the Interstate, heading south to Tampa. It was a straight shot. One that would leave them out in the open. They were a few minutes ahead of Agent Miller and Jack Dwyer. However, Ore knew how they worked. He knew they didn't have much time before someone would be coming after them. Probably in a helicopter.

 

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