Danger Close

by James P. Sumner

  Distracted and lost in a moment of sadness for someone he never knew, he lowered his weapon. Jericho had seen countless battles. He had been on numerous missions into hostile territory. He had killed more people than he could remember in the name of someone else’s greater good. He now found himself fighting for his life in what was probably the most legitimate and worthwhile cause of his military career. There was no agenda here. The only politics were the ones he brought with him. This was about right and wrong. This was about defending the persecuted from a tyranny they inherited. Yet each death he saw… each one he caused… they all felt unnecessary. He wished he could have done more to stop this. To keep President Herrera alive. Everything that had happened, everything going on, everything to come…

  It was all on him.

  “Sir!”

  A far-off voice dragged him from the ill-timed reflections of a guilty soldier. The noise of the world rushed back toward him the way the end of a tunnel approaches a train. The world was louder than how he left it.

  Startled, Jericho looked around. One of his own men was yelling and gesturing behind him. As he looked over his shoulder, he saw the reason the world was more chaotic. Two choppers hovered ominously over the courtyard. Men were fast-roping down onto the balcony, flanking Jericho’s men and firing without hesitation.

  It took him a second to realize what was happening.

  He spun around, chambering an explosive round. A group of the general’s men had landed maybe twenty feet away, close to the doors that led inside, onto the second floor of the palace. Just behind them was a large stone pillar.

  Jericho fired.

  The bullet punched into the pillar and exploded on impact. A cloud of dust and stone fragments showered the men standing close by, sending them flying to the floor. The middle of the pillar was destroyed. The top of it fell away, dragging a large section of its roof down with it. The destruction was loud, temporarily drowning out the noise of gunfire. Brick and slate clattered to the floor, dropping on almost all the men sprawled across the floor.

  They disappeared beneath the rubble. Only a couple of men remained, having been able to dive out of the way before the roof crashed down. Jericho moved toward them. He fired a couple of rounds, hitting both men in their legs, ensuring they stayed down.

  The choppers overhead had flown away. The men with Jericho were engaging the team of enemies on the other side, now able to focus without fear of being attacked from behind.

  Jericho looked over to where the stone pillar had once stood. It had left a gap in both the side and the floor of the balcony. He moved toward it and crouched at the edge. He used the back of his hand to wipe a cocktail of sweat and dust from his face, then peered around to assess the courtyard below.

  Vehicles had been positioned at the far end to block access to the palace grounds, filling the gap left when the gates were removed. There were easily thirty men on the ground, forming a perimeter around the general’s tank. Jericho figured there was probably the same number again inside. He hoped Ramirez was holding up okay.

  The general had disappeared inside his tank. The hatch was closed. There was a loud, mechanical whirring as the turret began turning clockwise, moving its long barrel away from the palace entrance to aim at…

  Jericho’s eyes popped wide with shock.

  “Oh, shit,” he muttered. He jumped to his feet and ran along the balcony toward his team. He gestured for them to drop into cover. “Everyone down! Get down!”

  But his efforts were futile.

  The tank fired one of its huge shells, almost breaking the sound barrier as it decimated the upper balcony of the east wing. The impact was devastating. The middle of the balcony disintegrated, along with most of the roof and the wall below it. A hole the size of a small car had been punched into the building. The balcony collapsed in on itself, dropping in the center to the ground below, taking everyone who had been standing there with it.

  Jericho didn’t see what happened to his team. In an instant, he fell almost twenty feet to the courtyard below and landed heavily on his right shoulder. He managed to roll out of the way before a large chunk of concrete crashed down, missing him by inches. His gun flew from his grip. He was trapped inside a cloud of dirt and confusion, unable to see the world around him. He was aware of blood running down his face, but he couldn’t pinpoint the exact location or severity of the wound.

  He groaned as he tried to move, to look around and check on his team. His body was wracked with pain. He didn’t think the general would fire on the palace. He was wrong.

  The sound of gunfire faded, giving way to a persistent ringing in his ears. He lay on a large heap of rubble, unable to get to his feet. After what seemed like hours of trying, he gave up, letting his body relax on the most uncomfortable of beds.

  A moment later, he heard footsteps from all directions. Through the dirty haze of the explosion’s aftermath, shadows began to appear. Then they began to take shape. The general’s men fanned out, searching the debris for survivors.

  One of the shadows emerged from the dust cloud and towered over Jericho’s beaten body. He stared until the image of First Lieutenant Gomez aiming his rifle at him came into focus. Jericho strained to lift his head and look the man in the eye. He had him dead to rights. There was nothing he could do to defend himself. He couldn’t move or fight back.

  “You’re right,” said Gomez, sneering with the arrogance of presumed victory. “This is just as easy without a gate between us.”

  As Jericho stared up at the angry, determined expression of his enemy, his mind cleared. All fear left him. People say that your entire life flashes before your eyes when faced with death. But that didn’t happen for him. The grim clarity of the moment brought with it only two images from the recesses of Jericho’s mind. The first was of Julie, the one spark of light and hope in an otherwise cruel and violent life. He had honestly believed he would die by her side after a lifetime spent together.

  The second was of the only other time he had felt like he wasn’t going to survive—a snapshot of a landing strip in Colombia. The bullet he had taken to his head should have killed him. But GlobaTech kept him alive. They bolted his skull together with a titanium strip and replaced his eye with a state-of-the-art synthetic one. They had given him a new life. A new purpose.

  And he was about to die in service of it.

  He closed his eyes. The last thing he saw was Gomez’s finger move inside the trigger guard. He took a deep breath and relaxed.

  He was ready. He would die on the battlefield, fighting to protect innocent people who didn’t deserve what was happening to them. There were worse ways to go.

  He was ready.

  BANG!

  The sound of the single shot consumed the world. His body flinched against the expected impact. Jericho gasped his final breath.

  Then he took another one.

  And another.

  He opened his eyes and looked down at his body. He was alive. The shot had somehow missed him.

  He didn’t understand.

  He looked up to see Gomez fall away with a fresh hole in his chest.

  Jericho frowned as he forced himself upright, using his left hand for balance. He looked ahead, toward the main entrance of the palace. Standing there, still aiming a pistol that had wisps of smoke dancing from the barrel, was Colonel Ramirez. He smiled and nodded with a silent you’re welcome.

  Jericho rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Jesus…”

  Seconds later, a hail of automatic gunfire rang out nearby. Jericho watched the colonel’s body flail backward and land unceremoniously at the foot of the steps as he was hit with multiple shots.

  Jericho scrambled to his feet. “No!”

  He made it halfway across the courtyard before the general’s men descended on him, bringing an unnerving silence with them. They swept in from all directions, surrounding him as he stood between the general’s tank and the colonel’s body.

  The hatch of the
tank opened. General Guerrero appeared, holding his arms out to the side and wearing a smile that was more to say I told you so than to express humor.

  “It is over,” he shouted down. “Tell whomever you have left to stand down. You have lost.”

  Jericho turned a slow circle, taking note of all the men and guns that encircled him. He stopped as his gaze landed on the general.

  “You call this winning?” he asked. “Congratulations, General. You’re king of the rubble.”

  Guerrero scoffed. “There will always be casualties in war. On both sides. No matter the cost, this country will rebuild itself. And it will be stronger than ever before, with me leading the people into a new era for Paluga.”

  Jericho held his arms out to the side. “So, go ahead. Kill me. Get this over with, so you can get back to oppressing your people. Meet the new boss… same as the old boss.”

  “It will not be oppression, you misguided fool. It will be freedom. Freedom from terrorists like you. These people… my people… deserve justice.”

  Jericho shook his head, unable to stop himself from smiling. “And you say I’m misguided. Jesus. Just… before I die… can you at least tell me how you did it?”

  The general frowned. “Did what?”

  “All this. How did you kill President Herrera, arm your men with advanced weaponry that shouldn’t even exist, and hide what you were doing from the rest of the world?”

  Guerrero narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about? GlobaTech did this. Herrera died on your watch.”

  “But you orchestrated it all. This was all a part of your plan… of your coup to seize control of the country because you didn’t trust him to do the job. You hated the fact that he was cutting the funding for the military. You wanted him gone but were too scared to run against him in the election in case the people picked him over you. This way, you look strong. You look like the savior the people need. You ask me, General, you’re nothing but a coward. You’ve slaughtered hundreds of U.N. Peacekeepers here. You do understand that, right? Forget that GlobaTech has a force of highly trained security operatives that numbers well over a quarter of a million people. You violated U.N. sanctions and international laws, not to mention the fact that you publicly threatened to attack the U.S. if you succeeded here. My men and I were protecting your people, and we were doing so on the order of President Schultz. You think this is over now? You think you get to waltz inside what’s left of your palace, rebuild your government, and carry on as if this never happened?”

  Jericho stepped toward the tank, prompting the men surrounding him to reinforce the fact they had guns pointing at him.

  “This is just the beginning, General. After you reprimand the men loyal to Ramirez, your military will have less than five thousand men. What are you going to do when GlobaTech, the United Nations, and the U.S. Army come knocking on your door looking for answers and retribution?”

  The general went to reply but hesitated, as if unsure of the correct response. Finally, he said, “There was never going to be a coup. The people would have followed me once they heard what I wanted to say and the world saw what our nation could’ve been.”

  “Well, you screwed that up, didn’t you? The world hasn’t heard a single word since Herrera died. No one knows what’s going on here except the United Nations. You’ll be locked away in a black site until the end of time, and no one will ever know what you almost got away with.”

  “Almost, hmm?” Guerrero smiled. “Look around, boy. If there is anyone still alive inside, they will surrender or die. Out here… you are alone. Your friend, my old colonel, died trying to save you. But all he did was delay the inevitable.” He addressed the circle surrounding Jericho. “Men, prepare to fire!”

  “I want you to do it,” said Jericho, keeping a cautious eye on the group. “After everything that’s happened… after all the losses we’ve suffered, I’m asking you, soldier to soldier—will you do me the honor of a noble death at the hand of the man who beat me?”

  The general regarded Jericho quietly for a moment, then climbed out of the tank. His polished black boots crunched on the gravel as he strode into the middle of the group. He drew his sidearm and stood before Jericho, keeping a few feet between them. He gave up a few inches in height but still looked commanding and intimidating. He carried himself with the confidence only a lifetime of military service could give.

  He raised his arm, leveling his gun at Jericho’s chest.

  Jericho nodded. “Thank you, General.”

  As they held each other’s gaze in a final moment of unspoken respect, sporadic gunfire rang out in the silence from beyond the palace walls. Both men frowned, confused. The general’s men surrounding them did the same.

  They all turned to look over at the gates. The gunfire grew louder, accompanied by urgent but indecipherable shouting. Suddenly, the vehicles blocking the entrance to the courtyard disappeared in a deafening explosion. Their flaming metal husks landed some distance away to the side of the palace. Through the gap they had left, a swarm of military and GlobaTech forces burst forth, quickly overwhelming what remained of the general’s men nearby.

  Jericho seized the opportunity created by the distraction. At a pace not befitting a man of his size or condition, he moved toward the general and disarmed him, quickly aiming the weapon back at him. He pressed the barrel to Guerrero’s forehead and rested his finger on the trigger.

  “Tell your men to stand down, General,” ordered Jericho.

  Watching the new arrivals effortlessly secure the courtyard, the general nodded to his men, who lowered their rifles. Moments later, they were disarmed and taken away. A group of GlobaTech operatives remained, their own guns trained on General Guerrero. One of them moved to Jericho’s side, smiling.

  It was Mike Jefferies.

  Jericho nodded to him. “I see you made it out of Maville in one piece.”

  “We sure did, sir. Some of the colonel’s men showed up, and we were able to repel the general’s forces and force them to surrender. Is the colonel here? I’d like to thank him personally if that’s all right?”

  Jericho let out a solemn sigh. He glanced at the ground, then flicked his head toward the palace steps. “The colonel didn’t make it. He died saving my life.”

  Jefferies didn’t respond. He glared at the general, then turned away and walked back over to his team.

  Jericho looked at the general. “Now it’s over. Send word to the remaining Palugan soldiers across the country and tell them to stand down. Tell them to give themselves up to GlobaTech and they won’t be harmed.”

  Guerrero spat at Jericho’s feet. “I would rather die than surrender my country to the man responsible for tearing it apart.”

  Jericho applied pressure to the barrel, forcing it against the general’s forehead. “That can be arranged, asshole.”

  “Just do it,” he snarled, gritting his teeth and pushing against the barrel. “Do it! I’d rather die on my feet than live on my knees.”

  Jericho eyed him with something akin to sympathy, then lowered the gun.

  “I’m not responsible for what happened to Herrera,” he said. “He was a good man and I liked him. No one could have anticipated an assassination attempt. But my team back in the States are working to secure the shooter as we speak. I will leave some men here to help Raul Montez organize a new, peaceful election. I will also make sure the United Nations helps your country recover from this senseless war. We’re not the bad guys, General. You chose the wrong side here.”

  He glanced at Jefferies and his team, signaling him over with a flick of his head. He handed the general’s gun to him.

  “Take the general and his men into custody,” said Jericho. “Secure them at the nearest military base and arrange for all GlobaTech personnel in the area to rendezvous with you there. I’ll be along in a little while. There are some things I need to take care of here first. Once everywhere is secured, we’ll start heading home.”

  Jefferies nodded. “Yes, sir.�
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  He placed a hand on Guerrero’s shoulder and ushered him away.

  Jericho watched them leave, then walked toward the steps of the palace. Toward Colonel Ramirez’s body. As he stopped beside it, he saw Montez emerge from the palace. He waved him over.

  “Jericho, thank God,” said Montez as he approached. “I was worried. I didn’t know what was going on and I—”

  He stopped as he realized the colonel’s body lay at his feet. He crossed himself out of respect.

  “That man died a hero,” said Jericho. “Promise me the people of your country will know that.”

  Montez nodded. “They will. You have my word.”

  They fell silent, both looking around in dismay and awe of the carnage that surrounded them. The damage to the palace was significant. The number of bodies in the courtyard was a tragedy.

  “What will you do now?” asked Jericho. “Where do you even begin?”

  Montez smiled. It was out of courtesy, not humor. “I have no idea. But there is still some semblance of government in this country, so I’ll start there, I guess. We need to make a statement to the people as soon as possible. Tell them what happened. Reassure them they are safe, and this country remains strong.”

  Jericho nodded. “Okay. But are you sure telling them what happened is a good idea? Given how divided the country was before, the truth of what happened here is unlikely to offer comfort.”

  Montez shrugged. “I think the citizens of a country are smarter than their government gives them credit for. If we are to rebuild here, we cannot do it on a foundation of lies. That will lead to history repeating itself.”

  “I guess you’re right,” said Jericho, smiling. He placed a hand on Montez’s shoulder. “Sounds to me like you’re the perfect man for the job.”

  Montez didn’t say anything. His mouth fell open. His eyes grew wide with surprise, then narrowed as they fought back tears of pride. He simply nodded.