by Mark Tufo
“Sergeant!” the lieutenant nearly shrieked. “I’ll have your stripes for this!”
“You can have them if we get out of here. I’m through,” the sergeant replied, almost casually.
“Get up, lieutenant,” Deb motioned with her gun. The sergeant didn’t need prodding, he got up and walked straight in front of Beth.
***
“Sir, I’ve lost target B. I say again, I’ve lost target B.”
“Sir, target A is still hot, target A is still hot. Should I paint the target sir?”
“No, repeat no, do not fire until both targets are reacquired, then fire at will. If we only take one out, the other will surely waste my men and I won’t let that happen.” The Captain said.
“What about him, Deb?” Beth asked as she pointed back at the gunner who was still lying on the back seat.
“Oh, I don’t think he’ll be too much trouble before this thing is over with.” Deb answered.
“Move, Lieutenant!” Deb yelled as she suddenly felt herself entirely too exposed on the pavement. A chill ran right up the center of her spine along with her grandmother’s voice. “That’s the dead, come to visit dearie.” And that had always scared the bejesus out of Deb from the time she was six.
***
“Sir, they are retreating to the back of the pickup truck,” the sniper’s spotter relayed.
“Do you have a shot?” the captain inquired.
“Sir, target A is still hot. But target B well…”
“What is it, Perkins?”
“Well sir, it’s almost like the sergeant is intentionally getting in the way.”
“Come again?”
“Sir, he has to realize that we have a bead on the assailants, but he has completely cut off any shot.” The captain couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why the sergeant was protecting his assailants, but he must have had a good reason. The captain got back on the radio.
“Recons One and Two, I want you to stand down from my previous order. Keep the targets acquired but do not, I say again, do not fire unless directly ordered, do you copy?”
“This is Recon One, we copy five by five.”
“This is Recon Two we also copy five by five.” Thank the gods, the spotter thought to himself. He wasn’t even sure if he could shoot a madman threatening babies, much less two young females.
***
“So what now, girls? How long do you think they are going to let you hold us hostage? They’ll just wait until nightfall and put on their night-vision goggles; what then? You won’t even know which way it’s coming from,” the lieutenant sneered. Deb’s 'Rambo' impression was beginning to erode through. She had no idea what they should do now. The sergeant looked over at the lieutenant and just shook his head.
“Boot,” he muttered under his breath.
“Did you say something, Sergeant?” the lieutenant asked as he looked over. “If it weren’t for you, Sergeant O’Bannon, this whole unpleasant mess would already be over.”
“And what, sir? We’d have two dead young women on our hands? Would you be satisfied then? Would that make you a war hero?”
The lieutenant looked like he wanted to say something, he didn’t want to give the sergeant the satisfaction.
“What’s the plan, Deb?” Beth asked cautiously. She was afraid that Deb just might take off screaming into the woods, because she was beginning to get that 'deer in the headlights' stare.
“I…I don’t know, Beth. We can’t all fit in the cab of the truck and if we try to take off without hostages, that tank is sure to open fire.”
“Yeah, and that tank commander is one of the best shooters in the tri-state region,” the lieutenant interjected.
“Give it a rest, lieutenant,” the sergeant said forcefully. “Girls, I’d say to take me hostage and let the lieutenant go, but I’m afraid he’d have them open fire on all of us.”
“Damn right,” the lieutenant snarled.
“That means you’re going to have to take the lieutenant.”
“Wha…what?! You can’t be serious? I’ll have you court-martialed for this!” the lieutenant protested.
“He’s right, Deb. We’ll put our friend, the lieutenant, in between us and we’ll top the hill and drop him off, out of the tank’s range or at least, sight.”
“And I’ll delay any pursuit. I’ll tell the captain that if you saw anybody chasing you, that you were going to kill the lieutenant,” the sergeant said. The lieutenant looked over at the sergeant, pure hatred in his eyes.
“You know, when I get back, my report of the unfolding of events is going to be a lot different from yours, Sergeant.”
“What makes you think you’re coming back?” Beth threw in. The lieutenant couldn’t tell from her tone if she meant it or not and at this point in time, he had no desire to try her.
“Alright, that’s the plan. We’ll take the lieutenant,” Deb said, as she motioned to the cab of the truck with her gun.
***
“Sir, this is Recon One. The lieutenant is getting into the truck. I repeat, the lieutenant is getting into the truck.”
“Crap,” the captain muttered. This was going from a hostage situation to a kidnapping. He couldn’t let them go; what would he tell their families?
“Recons One and Two, do you have a shot?” the captain asked, not really sure which answer he was hoping for.
“Sir, this is Recon One. Target is hot.”
“Sir, Recon Two. Target is a no go; say again, target is a no go.” Just then, four strange and very related things happened almost simultaneously. The captain lost a little of his military bearing and swore while still holding down the talk button on his radio.
“Dammit!” the captain yelled. Recon Force One, spotter Corporal Eddington, already hopped up on adrenaline, thought he heard the order to fire and relayed that to his sniper, Corporal Harris. Corporal Harris had a beautiful shot, dead center chest, just like he was trained to do.
The third event unfolded, the lieutenant, upon opening the door to the truck, had unwittingly sun-blinded the sniper with the truck’s side view mirror just as Corporal Harris was pulling the trigger. His rifle moved only a fraction of an inch, but now his shot went from a confirmed kill to a shoulder wound.
Deb spun from the force of the lead smashing into her shoulder. Her hand was in the throes of a spasm around the grip of her pistol, sending one round through the lieutenant’s left eye.
“Get down, the two of you!” the sergeant shouted as Beth could only look on in horror at where Deb’s bullet had flown. Deb was cussing and screaming from the fire burning in her shoulder. The sergeant scrambled over to her and pulled her down to the ground with her good arm. Blood flowed down her wounded arm in rivulets. Beth sort of slumped down on the front grill, still in shock. Sergeant O’Bannon was busy taking off Deb’s jacket trying to staunch the flow of blood from her arm.
“What happened?!” the captain yelled into the radio.
“Sir, this is Recon One. We have a confirmed hit, say again, confirmed hit!” the corporal said excitedly.
“Listen, you little puissant! I never gave the order to fire!” the captain yelled, sending the corporal’s elation plummeting.
“But... but sir, I heard the order,” the corporal swallowed hard.
“I gave no such order! You had better hope that neither of our men are hurt, Corporal, or I’m going to make you personally responsible. I’m going to make you tell their families that your screw-up cost them their husbands’ and daddies’ lives!”
The corporal could think of no worse fate. He knew both of those men’s families; he had eaten dinner at both of their houses on more than one occasion. He even played with all the kids. There was no way he could do what the captain had threatened. The corporal threw off his headset and stood up, as he pulled his Colt .45 out of his holster he began to run towards the truck.
“Sir! This is Corporal Eddington. Corporal Harris has taken off towards the truck.”
“I can
see that, Corporal! I want you to stop him now!”
“How sir? I’m not going to shoot him.”
“Get up and tackle him if you have to.”
“Sir, you know about Corporal Harris.”
The captain knew alright. Corporal Harris was the fastest man in their unit, in the whole region. Twice a year, the various National Guard units got together and put on their version of the Olympics. Mostly, it was an excuse to get away from their spouses and drink a little, but it was also for pride of unit. Corporal Harris had proven three times over that he was the fastest hundred-meter, two-hundred-meter and six-hundred-meter runner for two years and counting.
Corporal Harris was halving the distance to the truck while the sergeant was trying to decide how critical a hit Deb’s shoulder had taken. The noise around the truck was deafeningly quiet. Deb’s curses had died down to small whimpers as the beginnings of shock began to take over. Beth stared, glassy-eyed into space. The vision of the lieutenant’s brains splattered all over the front of the truck was a sight she didn’t think that she’d forget any time soon.
The sergeant was applying pressure to Deb’s wound when he heard the unmistakable sound of combat boots on pavement. The thunk-thunk-thunking was coming, and coming fast. How many of them were there? The sergeant thought. They’ll never give these girls a chance. They’ll see the dead lieutenant and want revenge. What am I about to get myself into?
The sergeant grabbed the rifle out of Beth’s hands. She didn’t protest in the least. On the contrary, she seemed relieved to let the thing go. The sergeant moved over to the passenger side door of the truck and rested the barrel of the 30-06 on it.
“God forgive me,” the sergeant spoke before he pulled the trigger and watched as his shot hit true. Corporal Harris went down with a shot to his thigh. His femur was neatly cut in two from the force of the shot. His running days were over.
And if he ever got to live out a long and fruitful life, he would complain about the pain in his right leg every time the weather was about to change. Corporal Eddington had been in pursuit of his friend when he saw the sergeant take aim and his friend go down. Eddington fell to the pavement almost as fast as his friend.
He stayed in prone position, almost frozen with fear. Harris was his friend and he’d be damned if he remained there and let him bleed out. Harris was howling in rage and pain, his leg splayed out before him in grotesque form. Eddington rose up and began to lumber over towards him.
Sergeant O’Bannon again took aim, but the corporal didn’t seem concerned in the least about him. Eddington grabbed Harris and hefted him up onto his shoulders in the familiar fireman rescue maneuver. Eddington stared at the sergeant for a split second that seemed to stretch for all eternity. The sergeant watched everything he valued go flushing down the drain. Sergeant O’Bannon thought for a millisecond about killing them both and destroying any witnesses but he dismissed that thought almost as quickly as he thought it. It did, however, disturb him that the thought had even arisen from the deepest, darkest corners of his mind.
Sergeant O’Bannon knew that they didn’t have much time; as soon as Corporal Eddington got back to the troop transports and got his wind, his unit would come at them full on. Sergeant O’Bannon had crossed the line and he would be dealt with as swiftly as the girls.
“Time to roll! Let’s go girls!” the sergeant yelled. Neither one moved. The girl on the right sat slack-jawed against the grill of the truck and the other one was showing the first and second signs of shock. Her complexion was rapidly paling and her breathing was getting shallow. He did what he had to--he open-slapped Beth across the face. Beth’s face immediately reddened with anger.
“You bastard! What do you think that you are doing!?” she yelled as she began to rise to give this man a dose of what for.
“Saving your lives!” he shouted back. “Get your friend up. I’ll get the truck ready to travel.” She knew immediately what he meant and she thanked God he did it.
“Deb, come on. Get up,” Beth said as she gently tugged on Deb’s sleeve. Beth did not like the hue of Deb’s skin. Her lips were turning a bluish-white, almost like the color of fish. Beth shuddered as she heard the thud of a body hitting the pavement.
“Come on Deb!” I don’t want to look like that, she thought. “Come on!” she fairly wailed. That got some response out of Deb, but not enough. The sergeant had finished moving the lieutenant’s body out of the truck and most of the gray matter. He looked up and noted that Corporal Eddington was back at the troop transport, pointing towards them.
“Lady, get your friend up and moving or I’m gonna toss her in here!”
“Deb! Get up! If you ever want to see Mike again, get up!” Beth screamed. Deb finally showed some signs of life. She didn’t rise completely on her own but with Beth’s help, she did manage to get into the truck, just as Sergeant O’Bannon was putting it in gear.
The troop transport was rolling now and it would only be a matter of seconds before the tanks began to open fire; and this time they wouldn’t be warning shots. The sergeant was glad that the tanks hadn’t been retrofitted with the latest optical laser-guiding system. They wouldn’t have made it twenty feet before a round would find them. As it was, the men manning those tanks took their jobs seriously and were ranked among the best in the Massachusetts National Guard. But hitting a moving target was still difficult and the sergeant wasn’t going to make it any easier for them by driving in a straight line.
“You had better get you and you friend buckled up. We’re going to be in for a bumpy ride,” the sergeant said as he belted himself in.
“I really am getting sick of putting my seatbelt on. Every time I do, something bad happens,” Beth said as she leaned over to get Deb’s seatbelt on. Deb offered no resistance; in fact, she didn’t offer much of anything. My God, she looks pale, Beth thought as she brushed past Deb’s hand. She noted how cold she felt too. But she didn’t have too much time to dwell on it, as she heard the first volley of shots heading in their direction. It was deafening. Is this how death sounds? At least you, my friend, won’t feel it, Beth thought as she leaned over to embrace Deb.
Chapter 34 - Mike Journal Entry Six
“Doc, just for a couple of minutes?” I whined. France must be rubbing off on me, I bemused.
“Listen, Mike. I know you look good, you feel good, and your tests all say you’re doing good. But it’s only been two days since you hemorrhaged and I’m not taking any chances,” the doctor said as he wrote copious notes on the chart he had taken from the foot of the bed.
“I just want to see the sun for a few minutes. I feel like I’m back…on the ship.” I think the doctor caught my hesitation and the look I got in my eye because he finally acquiesced.
“Oh alright!” he said in exasperation. “But Nurse Hitchins will be with you the entire time and you are not to leave the wheelchair.”
“Wheelchair?”
“Wheelchair! Or you’re not going. And that’s it, Mr. Talbot, whether you’re a super hero or not. Apparently, even super heroes can die.”
“Almost.”
“Almost?” the doc asked.
“Almost die,” I said whimsically.
“The wheelchair or nothing!” he answered as he headed back to his office, mumbling something or other about kids these days and how ungrateful they were.
Nurse Hitchins showed up ten minutes later, pushing a wheelchair that I think came from the Industrial Age. The thing had more steel on it than my last car.
“You don’t have anything a little flashier do you?” I asked sarcastically. Nurse Hitchins didn’t see the humor or more likely didn’t appreciate it. She pulled my covers back. I was feeling really exposed in the hospital gown and expressed my dissatisfaction.
“Don’t you have anything I could wear that might be a bit more appropriate than this smock?” I said as I pulled at the sides of the material.
“Oh honey, you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before,” she answered
condescendingly.
“Nothing?” I asked, a little embarrassed.
“Listen, you might be a super hero but you aren’t Superman,” she said as she looked at my crotch for a fleeting second.
My cheeks blazed. “Fine,” I said as I let her assist me into the chair. And thankful for the help I was. For all the bravado I had displayed to the doctor, I don’t think that I could have made it up the first flight of stairs out of that place. Lucky for me, I had a chauffeur and an elevator.
My heart began to pound unexpectedly as we began our ascent. I blamed it on my first real view of the new world that our history was now recording. Deep down inside, I knew better. My senses had increased tenfold during my stay on the alien mother ship. I had come to rely on those newfound instincts, however hard I tried to quash them, and the uneasiness kept seeping in around the corners. I turned to my nurse, my face feeling like most of the color had drained out of it, and more than likely, it had, at least, from the nurse’s perspective.
“You all right, son?” she said cautiously, not sure if I was having some sort of relapse, again.
“I’m fine. But are you sure this is such a good idea? I mean, is it safe up there?”
“Honey,” she snorted, “this might just be the safest place on the planet. Not many people these days trying to break into prisons.” That did little to ease my concern. Then she added, “And this place has at least twenty to twenty-five good men guarding it.” I felt a little better but my gut said otherwise. I had learned early on in my fights that my gut was something well worth the effort to heed.
“Listen,” I said without much conviction. “I think maybe I should just go and lie back down.”
“Nonsense, it’s a beautiful day out and you look like you could use some sun.”
I mumbled a few obscenities under my breath but I went meekly. What was I supposed to do? I was in a wheelchair. What did I know? Maybe the sun would do me some good. Then the elevator door beeped onto level one. The doors opened up, and my nightmare came into full vision.
Paul was standing there with a Colt .45 aimed squarely at my chest. Bastard was going to finish me off. I cringed, trying my best to melt into the back of the chair. And then…nothing, I opened my eyes to notice one of the orderlies getting onto the elevator we were vacating with what appeared to be an ice cold Coke.
