Occupied Seattle (Occupied Seattle Book 2)

by Christopher Kennedy

  “It’s about time you got here,” one of them said in an annoyed tone of voice. “Our lieutenant has been waiting for you. You’ll have to take the prisoners to where they’re being kept yourselves; we have to stay here at the door.”

  “Bah,” said Chang. “Try to do a good deed and get screwed over for it.” He sighed. “Where do the hostages go?”

  White House Situation Room, Washington, D.C., 1345 EDT (1045 PDT)

  “So,” said the president as they waited anxiously to find out about the recovery of the nuclear weapons, “once we get our hands back on the weapons that were stolen, how do we keep the Chinese from going back in to the storage facility and taking more?”

  “I’ve got every person in the 7th Infantry Division that can find and hold a rifle headed toward the Bangor Trident facility, as well as any of the Reservists they can find,” said the Army Chief of Staff. “They may not have all of their normal equipment, but they will, by God, hold that facility until they can be properly relieved. It’s the northwest and many of them have their own weapons. Those that don’t will have to beg, borrow or steal their neighbors’ weapons, their friends’ weapons, and anything else that they can find at the shelves of every K-Mart and Wal-Mart between Tacoma and Bangor. With the Chinese allowing free movement throughout the area, they can get close to the base and then infiltrate overland. They’ll be there to prevent a reoccurrence. Either that, or they’ll die trying.”

  The CNO nodded, happy that they had resolved that problem earlier. He was pleased the Army was taking care of it; he had enough problems of his own.

  Outside the IAB, University of Washington, Seattle, WA, 1050 PDT

  Calvin decided that one of the first things that Master Chief needed to do with his new money was to stock his armory with some of those radios and ear buds that you always see the SEALs using in the movies. He felt completely out of touch while he stood waiting at the back of the IAB. The group appeared to have made it inside the building without any problems, but now they had been out of contact for five minutes. Every minute that he didn’t hear rifle fire was another minute the team inside got closer to the nukes…unless they’d already been captured. How would he know if they had?

  Still no word from the group on the inside. This should have been better planned, Calvin thought, starting to get a little frantic. At what point should he give up on the group inside and try the smash and grab option? Too many questions, not enough training, he thought. He was definitely not the right person for this job. As he came to this conclusion, he began to hear a thumping in the distance. As it grew in volume, he got a sick feeling in his stomach as he recognized what it was.

  Helicopters were coming.

  “Shit,” he said under his breath. “Shit, shit, shit.” Both of his senior enlisted leaders were inside the building, leaving him alone. Without them, he realized that it was up to him to do something. “Weapons squad to me!” he said in a stage whisper.

  When Calvin had first seen the armory under Ryan’s house, he had been amazed at all of the war-making material that Ryan had assembled there. Impressive as it seemed at first glance, being faced with a live enemy had quickly revealed its inadequacies. First, the lack of radios kept them from coordinating their actions, and now he had found a second problem. As the beating of the incoming helicopters’ rotor blades got louder, he hoped there wouldn’t be more than two of them; his platoon only had two Stinger surface-to-air missiles.

  Any helicopters that were going to land would have to come in on the intramural fields to the north of the IAB where they had landed yesterday. He positioned the remaining members of the Ranger platoon along an axis to cover this approach. Once again, he noticed the need for radios in order to synchronize their actions. “If this is a mixed group of helos, and we have to shoot at them, go for the ones with the guns on the front first,” he said. Thinking back to what Sara had said, he added, “If it is a mixed group, the attack helos are probably not going to land, but circle around the field. Try to take them when they’re headed away from you, so they don’t see the missile coming. We’ve only got a couple of shots; we’ve got to make them count,” he instructed. “When the first helo touches down, shoot!” He watched as the men spread out to take their positions.

  Inside the IAB, University of Washington, Seattle, WA, 1052 PDT

  So far, so good, thought Ryan as they continued into the building. In addition to the guards outside the front door, there had been another two soldiers on the inside that were hidden. If they had tried the smash and grab, it would have failed miserably, as the alarm would have been given, and they would have had to fight their way past several squads of soldiers aware of their presence.

  Walking into the section of the gym that held its basketball courts, they found the hostages. Several hundred students were huddled in the middle of the central basketball court, looking miserable. As Ryan stopped to take it in, Private Li prodded him in the back with the butt of the rifle, saying something in Chinese that was probably “move!” He continued walking. He could see that there were five soldiers in the room armed with rifles; two were at the entrance, with the other three scattered throughout the gym. All appeared observant, although a little bored. They held their rifles cradled in their arms, not at a ready position. While Shuteye stopped to talk to the two guards at the door, Private Li continued to shepherd the rest of the group toward the students. As they reached the hostages, he had an idea. In broken English he commanded, “You no stay in group. Move out! Go to all sides!” The six prisoners spread out with two going in the direction of each of the guards, hands in their pockets.

  “Where did you find them?” one of the guards asked Sergeant Chang. “I thought we already had enough prisoners.” He grinned. “Are they to be punished?”

  “We found them on our way in,” said Shuteye, “and thought we’d bring them in. They were hanging around outside and looked suspicious. If you have enough, we can take them back out.” As Private Li walked up to rejoin him, Sergeant Chang’s eyes widened in surprise as he looked over the shoulders of the two guards. Both guards involuntarily looked behind them to see what Chang had seen. When they did so, he yelled, “Now!” as he leveled his rifle at the two guards. Private Li did the same, and the two guards looked back to see two rifles pointed in their direction. The other six Americans drew silenced pistols from their pockets with two Americans pointing at each of the other three Chinese guards. The guard in front of Ryan tried to bring his rifle up, but Ryan shot him twice in the chest, his pistol coughing quietly. The Ranger standing next to him, Private First Class Woodard, also got off a shot, but he fired too quickly and the round missed the soldier and buried itself in the concrete wall of the gym. Looking around, Ryan could see that the other two guards had put their hands in the air and were being relieved of their rifles. He was starting to feel pretty good about their chances…

  And then a hostage screamed. Loudly. As suddenly as it started, the scream was cut off as her neighbor clamped a hand over her mouth. The woman couldn’t be blamed for the scream, as she had been dozing and awoke to see a Chinese soldier fall backward in a spray of blood, but the scream echoed in the gym and trailed off down the hall.

  “Cover the door!” ordered Ryan. He stationed his two Chinese imposters to watch the hallway in case anyone came looking for the source of the scream while Top began to zip-tie the captured Chinese soldiers. He checked the soldier that had been shot. He didn’t need to be zip-tied; Ryan’s shots had struck him in the heart, and he was already dead. “Nice grouping of your shots,” he said with professional approval as he walked by his friend.

  “Thanks,” Ryan said in reply. He hadn’t wanted to kill the soldier, especially dressed as a civilian, but it was either that or let the soldier shoot him; he hadn’t had a choice. Looking around the gym, Ryan saw that there was a door that led to the outside. Addressing the group of students still sitting in the middle of the gym like sheep, he said “When I say to, I want you to walk, not run
, to the door over there.” He pointed at the one he meant, which led west toward the tennis courts. “Walk, do not run, away from the building. Most things are back to normal outside, but if you run, you will draw attention to yourselves and to us. Remember, walk, don’t run. Ready, move!” he commanded. The students began moving toward the door. One of them, a short blond, said, “Thanks!” as she walked past. Ryan recognized Sara’s friend Erika; he was pleased that they had found her.

  As one of the students opened the door, that feeling was swept away, as Ryan heard the rotor beats of approaching helicopters. “Not now!” he thought. Changing his mind, he said, “On second thought, RUN!” He hoped Erika made it out safely, but right now, he had other problems.

  Outside the IAB, University of Washington, Seattle, WA, 1050 PDT

  “Shit, shit, SHIT!” swore Calvin as the side door to the gym opened, and the students emerged at a walk, which quickly turned into a run. They couldn’t have come out at a worse time. After a subjective eternity waiting for information on what was going on inside the IAB, the team had to send all of the hostages out right now, with Chinese helicopters flying into the area.

  “Shit!” he swore again as the helicopters came into sight. Unless the Rangers really knew what they were doing, they were in big trouble. He counted at least five helicopters inbound…no, wait, six, as another attack helo came into sight from behind the trees, following the first five. Six helicopters and they only had two Stinger surface-to-air missiles. The odds weren’t good.

  He watched from the opposite end of the IAB from where the helicopters were coming in to land. At least the hostages were escaping from his end of the building; hopefully, they wouldn’t be seen and targeted by the helicopters. As the helicopters came closer, he could see that there were two of the Chinese heavy-lift helicopters, accompanied by four attack helos. Four attack helos and two Stinger missiles…he did the math and didn’t like the answer. The two heavies came into the empty field at a fast rate of speed, flaring to land in a combat approach. They couldn’t have seen his men yet, or they wouldn’t have landed, Calvin decided. They must be doing the combat landing just to be safe. As the two big helicopters set down on the soccer field, the other four helicopters began circling the field, like Sara said they had done the day before.

  As the wheels of the first helicopter touched the grass, a Stinger missile leaped out from under one of the bleachers at the adjoining baseball field with a ‘wooosh’ and plume of smoke, and it headed toward the closest attack helicopter. A second Stinger missile launched from the woods on the other side of the field, with another flash of rocket fire. Calvin’s pulse, already pounding, quickened further as the battle was joined.

  Inside the IAB, University of Washington, Seattle, WA, 1050 PDT

  “Time to move!’ said Ryan as the last of the students ran out the door. “We’ve got helicopters inbound!” Before the door could close, five more Rangers came into the building, bearing grenade launchers and extra rifles. “LT Hobbs thought you could use some support,” said the lead soldier, Staff Sergeant Dave Kowalski. Ryan took the offered M-16 with its attached M203 grenade launcher, and had the two Rangers in Chinese uniform lead the way back into the main part of the building as the beating of the helicopters grew louder. He hoped that seeing the uniforms would give pause to any soldiers they came across, giving them an edge, but he also knew that ‘hope’ wasn’t a very good operational strategy. All 13 platoon members in the building now had weapons and were ready to use them.

  They reached the corner prior to the front door, and Sergeant Chang and Private Li walked out as if they belonged there. All 20 or so Chinese soldiers in the Fitness Center could be seen over the shoulders of the two guards manning the door. All heads were turned to look out through the floor-to-ceiling glass wall that faced the intramural soccer fields as two big helicopters flew in, flared and landed. Chang and Li motioned the rest of the men to come quietly around the corner as two missiles reached up to the circling attack helicopters, striking two of them and sending them plummeting out of control. The Chinese soldiers shouted in shock and disbelief, grabbing their rifles and moving to the glass in the hopes of getting a shot at whoever brought down their helicopters. They never saw the Americans form up behind them in a firing line.

  Ryan counted in a whisper, “1…2…3…Now!” Eight rifles roared, and five launchers threw grenades into the concentration of men by the wall, blowing out the glass and throwing several of the Chinese soldiers out the window. They fell 15 feet onto the pavement one story below, out of the fight. The two door guards started to turn, but were cut down in a hail of bullets as the firing line refocused on them. It was a one-sided massacre, until one of the guards from outside the building fired an extended burst through the glass door, striking the Ranger at the end of the line in the shoulder and the Ranger next to him in the head, killing him instantly. All of the remaining soldiers fired back at the two guards outside the door, killing them in a spray of bullets. It was, however, too late for Staff Sergeant Kowalski, who was dead, and Private First Class Justin Richardson, whose right arm was useless. Richardson moaned “Medic!” and one of the Rangers went to assist him.

  “We’ve got to find the nukes!” yelled Ryan. Worried that the Chinese were now aware of their presence and probably wouldn’t fall for the navy uniforms again, he split his men into two search parties to investigate the corridors that led from the Fitness Center. “Look for ways to get downstairs,” he explained. “They had to bring them in by pallet and probably didn’t bring them up the stairs.” He looked at the men. “We’ve got to hurry. The Chinese will be here soon!”

  Outside the IAB, University of Washington, Seattle, WA, 1055 PDT

  Calvin watched as two of the attack helicopters were hit and went spinning out of control, crashing to the ground. Almost too quickly to be believed, the closest remaining attack helicopter spun toward the baseball field and began shredding the trees and aluminum stands with 25mm shells. At 180 rounds per minute, the trees and stands were quickly torn apart. A piece of hot shrapnel hit the missileer, Corporal Matthew Evans, ripping through his left bicep as he tried to hide under the stands. He screamed in agony as it shattered his humerus, and he clasped his right hand over the wound to staunch the flow of blood. As the helicopter’s gunner walked the gun back across the stands, he was hit by another round, killing him where he lay.

  The other attack helicopter spun toward where the second missile had come from, but the gunner couldn’t find a target to shoot. While the pilot brought the aircraft to a hover, his gunner scanned the area with his infrared scope, trying to find the missileer before he could launch another missile at them. As Calvin watched, the pilot slowed the helicopter’s forward progress, which was perfect for the team that was operating the Ranger Anti-Tank Weapon System (RAWS). Also known as the M3 Carl Gustaf, the RAWS was an 84mm shoulder-fired anti-tank system. It operated like a large rifle that could be fired over and over, as long as the team had ammunition for it. Unfortunately, Master Chief’s armory only held four rounds, two high explosive and two that were dual-purpose, armor piercing. Normally, this weapon was meant to target lightly armored vehicles, which it could do to a range of about 700 meters, or to engage “soft targets” (i.e., people), which it could do to a range of about 1,000 meters. With a distance of only about 50 meters, the attack helicopter was easily within range.

  Forgetting that ‘speed is life’ in combat, the attack helicopter pilot had brought his aircraft to a near standstill as the gunner began to fire the cannon at the trees, hoping to flush out the missileer. The only thing he achieved was to destroy two pine trees before the 84mm dual-purpose round hit the side of his helicopter, penetrated and exploded, killing both the pilot and the gunner instantly. Out of control and on fire, the helicopter crashed to the ground.

  Having just landed and killed their aircrafts’ lift, the bigger helicopter pilots were doing their best to get their aircraft back into the air and away from the killing grou
nd. Their motors shrieked as their pilots slammed the throttles to full power. “Now!” Calvin urged silently as the helicopters slowly began lifting back up. Right on time, the aircraft were engaged by all of the machine guns in the platoon and, within seconds, bullets were slamming into the helicopters at the rate of over 80 a second. Wounded or dead, all four of the helicopter pilots were quickly put out of action, and the helicopters crashed back down to the ground, spilling out Chinese soldiers. Several tried to get up and charge the trees where the Americans were hiding, but a barrage of rifle and grenade fire killed or wounded all of them within seconds.

  Looking back to the eastern side of the field, Calvin saw that the last attack helicopter had finished destroying the baseball stadium’s bleachers and was turning to look for new targets. The helicopter’s pilot saw the rapid muzzle flashes from one of the M240 machine guns to his right and turned his helicopter to engage it. As the gunner brought his cannon to bear on the machine gun crew, the pilot continued to turn the helo further right, pointing it in the direction of Conibear Shellhouse, where PFC ‘Tiny’ Johnson’s sniper team had been waiting.

  The sniper section was armed with a modified .50 caliber Barrett sniper rifle. The massive bullets from the Barrett were devastating to personnel, and the round that hit the helicopter pilot in the chest nearly tore him in half. The helicopter wallowed slightly, while the gunner switched from controlling his weapons system to using his auxiliary set of flying controls. He took long enough regaining control of the helicopter that Tiny was able to retarget and kill him, too. Unmanned, the final attack helicopter crashed to the ground.