by Chris Pike
Chandler popped the last of the weld beads on the tool box to reveal two holstered Glocks and two double magazine pouches. He put one Glock and a pouch on his belt, saving the second Glock and pouch for Amanda.
The food cart was covered with snacks, but the storage compartment was Chandler’s focus. Behind soft drink cans and fake napkin boxes were a medium sized backpack and a yellow crowbar strong enough to pop open a steel door.
Chandler breezed past the now useless elevator. Even if it was working, taking it would not be worth the risk. He came to the stairwell, opened the door, and peered in. If Luke’s memory of his last tower tour was right, there would be a metal screen door to overcome on the stairway.
Chandler crept slowly up the stairway, his footfalls silent and catlike on the concrete steps.
The sounds of sporadic rifle fire crept down to his position in the darkened stairwell and he wondered how Uncle Billy was doing with his assignment.
Finally he came to the last step. Standing on the landing, he waited for the loud tap, tap, tap of gunfire volleys to conceal what he needed to do. Using the noise as cover, he worked quickly with the yellow crowbar to pry open the metal door. When the firing ceased he took a breather, and when the bullets flew, Chandler concentrated on keeping his work as quiet as possible.
Chapter 30
Uncle Billy had crawled along the hard ground inch by agonizing inch until he reached the Littlefield Fountain. His camouflaged Ghillie suit had served him well, allowing him to blend into the winter colors of the campus. From a distance he appeared to be a heap of raked leaves or even a mound of garbage.
The fountain was a monument to University of Texas students and alumni who had died in World War I. Set in a granite pool backed by a thick limestone wall, it consisted of military, nautical, and mythical symbols. The bronze victorious winged Goddess Columbia held a torch representing the Flame of Freedom. She was flanked by an Army soldier holding a large sword, while on the other side a Navy seaman held an oar.
Three hippocamps, mythical creatures that were part fish and part horse with webbed hooves, were sculpted with two mermen riders possibly representing man’s discipline, while the middle hippocamp appeared to be driving through surf at the front of a ship.
Regardless of the interpretation or the beauty of the fountain, Uncle Billy considered it to be protection against the Barrett M107 in the hands of Zack Durant.
Uncle Billy stayed hidden until the generator explosion rocked the campus. Taking this as he signal to make his move, he took a big breath, stood upright, and walked right behind the statue of Columbia.
Lives depended on what he was about to do.
He defiantly held Chandler’s LaRue OBR high over his head, pumping it in the air toward the Tower which he was in a direct line of sight. The only thing missing was him shouting, “Wolverines!” Instead he shouted, “Faith! Family! Firearms!”
Uncle Billy kept his eyes on the Tower. There, just below the clock, he saw the Barrett M107 swivel in his direction. The large black gun stood out among the sandy colored limestone.
* * *
Zack had been using his Barrett M107, peering through the sights, checking the campus for intruders he hoped had been lured by the note. He swiveled the heavy gun on the pintle mount forward and back, left and right. Without the pintle mount to take the weight, the Barrett’s 30 pound heft would soon exhaust the strongest of men.
He expected Chandler to show up early, and he laughed at the man in the Ghillie suit who thought he was hidden. He thought about taking a shot, which would easily obliterate the man, but he held back. Maybe it was a trap.
Zack peered through the sights on his Barrett M107 which he had placed on the walkway of the Tower’s observation deck. He watched with humor as the man in the Ghillie suit walked in front of the fountain and thrust a rifle high overhead. Zack squinted at the rifle. It was a LaRue.
His grin turned into a deadly serious expression.
Zack immediately recognized the gun as belonging to Chandler. Only the previous day Chandler and Amanda had been in the crosshairs of his Barrett. He should have taken the shot right then, but had decided against it. He couldn’t afford for Amanda to become collateral damage.
He glanced back at Amanda. She sat quietly on a chair, staring straight ahead, and had refused any type of hospitality. What he really wanted to do was to ask her what she was thinking about, but the last time he asked, she told him to go to Hell.
Plan A to reunite with Amanda obviously wouldn’t work out, and since a Plan B was always needed in situations like these, well, Plan B was shaping up nicely.
She had finally calmed down after Zack assured her he wasn’t going to hurt her, but only if she did as he said, and screaming was something she had been told not to do. Not that she took orders, but a few slaps to the face convinced her to shut up.
Not one to take chances, Zack had zip tied her wrists. She still had on her jeans and jacket from the night before, along with her high-heeled boots she had asked for.
Zack thought he must have interrupted whatever plans she had with Chandler.
Too bad.
She shivered in the bleak quarters of the observation tower, and whenever Zack opened the door to step out onto the walkway, a gust of frigid air blew through. Earlier, he offered her a blanket, but she had kicked it off when he handed it to her.
She could stay cold.
Zack grabbed Amanda by the arm, jerked her out of the chair, and roughly shoved her over to the wrought iron safety grate.
“See that?” he said.
Amanda looked out over the campus. “What?” she replied tersely. “I don’t see anything.”
Zack squeezed her chin and forced her face in the direction of the fountain. “Now do you see it?”
Amanda’s gaze went to the fountain. She squinted at the figure in the Ghillie suit thrusting a rifle in the air. “Yeah, I see it. So what?”
“That’s your boyfriend who’s come to rescue you.”
“What? No,” Amanda pleaded. “Don’t hurt him. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Just don’t hurt him. What is it that you want?”
“The five hundred acres you inherited.”
“What?”
“Your great aunt’s estate. You’re her only heir.”
“How do you know that?”
“Amanda, really? You’re smarter than that.”
She narrowed her eyes and looked at him oddly. “You murdered her, didn’t you?”
“See? You’re not that dumb after all. If only your aunt had signed the papers like I asked her to, we wouldn’t be in this situation, and your boyfriend would be able to live to a ripe old age.”
“Go to Hell!”
“Already been there.” Zack shoved her back inside and thrust a legal looking document at her. “Sign this.”
“No.”
“Sign it,” Zack ordered.
Amanda said nothing.
“If you sign it, I’ll let you go. And to show you I’m a nice guy, I’ll even let your boyfriend live.”
Amanda was skeptical that Zack would keep his word, but she did know if she didn’t sign the papers, he’d follow up on his threats. “What is this?” she asked.
“Bill of sale. You’re selling me the five hundred acres for one hundred dollars.”
“Why do you want it? The land is worthless.”
“Maybe now it is, but not in the future. When the grid boots back up again, things will get back to normal and I’ll be sitting pretty on five hundred prime acres. Austin is expanding and the land is right smack in the path of beautiful urban sprawl. I’m going to be a rich man some day.”
“You can have it. Give me a pen.”
Zack handed Amanda a pen.
“Cut the ties first.”
“No. Sign it now.”
Reluctantly, Amanda scribbled her name on the papers then shoved them back at Zack. He reached into his pockets and took out a hundred dollar bill.
“I do
n’t want your money,” she said. “Cut me loose. I did what you said.”
“Not so fast. I still have some target practicing to do.”
Catapulting off the chair, Amanda tried to kick him.
Zack pivoted out of the way then wrestled her back to the chair. He took a length of rope and tied her to the chair. “You used to be street smart. What happened?”
“Go to the devil!”
* * *
Upon seeing the 29-inch barrel of the Barrett M107 lining up on him, Uncle Billy leapt over the wall of the fountain and dove into the water. He felt the impact and the vibration of the .50 BMG round hitting the statue before the sound from the shot arrived. His only hope was to not be where Durant was aiming. Things were getting dicey and he wondered when Luke was going to get started.
Uncle Billy’s question was answered momentarily. Luke had been sitting patiently on the roof of Dobie center, and when he saw his chance his .338 Lapua barked and blew a hole in the safety grate of the Tower.
Zack was momentarily startled at the shot until he understood what was happening. The man in the fountain was not Chandler. Whoever was in the Ghillie suit was meant to be a distraction. Zack adjusted his aim to the roof of the Dobie building. Having sighted and fired on this building before, he began laying down accurate fire on the rooftop.
Luke hit the ground immediately. Some of the incoming fire came too close for comfort. There was a gap in firing, presumably the M107’s empty ten-round magazine was being replaced with a full one.
Uncle Billy recognized the deadliness of the M107 had been directed elsewhere. Seeing his chance, he rose out of the water, took upward aim through the side of the sculpture, and fired at the Tower. The OBR’s 7.62 rounds popped the limestone walls, and chunks flew off, yet the target had not been hit.
Guards armed with military weapons, presumably acquired through looting, emptied into the courtyard. Most of these men entered the main tower building while the others headed toward Uncle Billy.
John engaged the guards using Uncle Billy’s old Colt AR-15 Sporter, which was just as effective today as it was in the 1960s when it was new. John took aim and fired, forcing the guards headed toward Uncle Billy to take cover.
Moments earlier, Tatiana had recovered her weapons from John. She preferred an old Savage 99 take-down lever action carbine she had received for her birthday. Savage owners rarely sold their guns, so she was thrilled to find a used one in the gun shop with an original Ted Williams scope. The six shot .300 Savage felt lively in her hands, and she liked the brass cartridge counter which let her know how much ammo she had left.
Tatiana’s backups were the MP-5 she had taken off the guard and a 12 gauge Stoeger double barrel, cut off at the end of the forend.
She had taken position to flank the guards now seeking cover from John. Her sessions with her grandmother’s Mosin Nagant were paying off. The fine crosshairs of the Ted Williams scope made accurate hits easy. She kept the guards pinned down at first, then began taking headshots when their fire came close to her.
Now desperate, the last two guards made a banzai charge toward Tatiana while she reloaded. Their facial expressions turned to terror as they came close enough to see the business end of the Stoeger. Each guard took a blast of buckshot to the chest that ended his life.
Zack decided to take out the closest threat first. Squinting through the sights of the M107, he estimated where the man in the Ghillie suit was and started shooting through the statue. Chunks of bronze were blown off, the impacts offering a musical tone.
Luke swung up and knew the next shot was critical. He changed his target to the weapon first, hoping that he would still get a chance at Zack. Controlling his breath through the trigger squeeze, he sent the 250 grain missile toward the rifle. His shot was rewarded when the M107 twisted abruptly on its pintle mount.
Zack grunted when the large rifle jerked back, bruising his shoulder. He fell to the floor. The M107 had receiver metal bent inward behind the bolt carrier, making the rifle useless. Zack looked up to see a frightened Amanda pressed against the whiteness of the south wall, a wall that already contained several elliptical bullet holes from the 1966 shooting. Determined to make sure no one would have Amanda if he could not have her, he reached for his pistol.
Amanda screamed.
The metal door to the observation deck flung open and hit the side of the wall with a loud thud.
Chandler burst into the room and dove to the floor.
Amanda screamed again.
Zack swiveled his gun from Amanda to Chandler, and in the split second of indecision, Chandler sighted his Glock on Zack’s head and pulled the trigger.
The first round grazed Zack’s head, stunning him, and he stumbled backward to the wall.
Zack brought his gun up and fired a wild shot.
Chandler fired again, aiming for the chest.
Zack’s body took the full brunt of the shot.
Chandler fired again this time aiming for the head. He shot until the slide locked back.
Amanda sat wild-eyed and breathing hard. Seeing Zack’s head obliterated was a sight she wouldn’t forget.
Zack was no longer identifiable.
Chandler rushed to Amanda. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”
“I think I’m okay,” she said weakly. “Cut the ties off me, please. I have some papers to tear up.”
* * *
Before Chandler had time to ask Amanda anything else, or to make an escape, the cavalry arrived to save Zack. They found a thick chain securing the metal screen door shut. When they tried to shoot off the lock, Chandler emptied a thirty round MP-5 magazine across the door at chest level. Three men fell, leaving at least twenty in the rear.
It was time to get nasty.
Chandler grabbed Zack’s mattress and emptied several liquor bottles onto it. A blast from another MP-5 peppered the door.
Amanda hit the floor.
Chandler heaved the mattress against the door. He struck a match to a wad of paper then tossed it to the mattress, igniting it.
The outer cover burned quickly without much smoke. Once the center caught, the smoke turned dark gray and filled the observation deck.
The air became thick with soot.
Amanda coughed.
“Let’s get outside!” Chandler yelled.
Chandler’s training always required a backup plan. The blockage of the stairway now required the use of the backup plan, although the actual use of the plan was far from desirable.
Chandler looked straight into Amanda’s eyes. “We don’t have much time. I need you to trust me. Can you do that?” She nodded.
Chandler unzipped the main compartment of the backpack to reveal a large coil of rope, rappel equipment, and a pair of gloves. “I’ve got three hundred feet of rope. It should be enough.”
Beads of sweat broke out on Chandler’s forehead.
“You’re sweating,” Amanda said. “I’ve never seen you sweat. What do you plan to do with the rope?”
Chandler only drew his hand across his forehead. He was bit more than worried since the Travis Dam was the tallest structure he had rappelled off in the past, and that stunt almost put him in jail. His dad’s 11mm 300 feet of rope was old, heavy, and considered substandard by today’s climbers. Still, this plan had hastily been put together in a matter of hours and he was used to doing impossible things without all the necessary equipment.
Amanda did not look happy. “We’re going to rappel? From here?” Her hands started to shake. “I can’t. I…I won’t.”
Chandler took her by the arm. “You trust me, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then don’t worry. I’m going to do all the work. You just have to sit back and enjoy the ride.” Chandler managed his best calming smile, but it was less than effective.
Working quickly, he strapped Amanda into a rescue harness then assembled his own webbed harness. He had his stainless steel figure eight for this job.
“Amanda, stand be
hind the corner there and cover your ears.” Chandler took Zack’s M-16 and blasted the welds on the wrought iron safety cage. Pieces of sizzling metal popped back at him, causing him to shake his arms to keep from getting burned by the random metal fragments.
While he emptied several M-16 magazines, Amanda took a Glock and holstered it along with the spare magazines. Several of the welds glowed red-orange as they started to cool from the friction of the bullets. Chandler bent back a few bars, creating enough space for them to fit through. He inserted a fresh magazine into the M-16 and handed it to Amanda.
“I’m going to walk us down slowly. There is no way you can fall, so don’t think about that. I need you to watch the situation down below us and shoot anyone that tries to shoot us. I’ll be too busy to help you, so you’ll have to handle the bad guys yourself. Uncle Billy, Tatiana, and John are down there trying to keep them occupied. Can you do that?”
“I think so.”
“Good,” Chandler said. He took extra magazines and stuffed them in Amanda’s pockets. He put the M-16’s tactical sling over her shoulder and around her back. Even if she lost her grip on the rifle, the tactical sling would keep it close to her body rather than letting it fall.
Chandler clipped her back to his back.
The smoke from the mattress fire was starting to clear and had burned through the flammable material.
Time was short.
“Close your eyes for a moment,” Chandler barked. He clipped his D-rings into the figure eight and lifted them onto the balcony. “Here we go.”
There was a small jerk and the two of them popped three feet below the balcony edge. They were committed now. Amanda had not liked Chandler’s tone when he barked the order, so she defied him and kept her eyes open. After watching her feet dangle over a three hundred foot drop, she wished she had kept her eyes closed.
“How are you doing? Is anyone down below?” Chandler asked.
“Everything’s fine,” Amanda blurted, fighting to keep her anxiety at a manageable level.
“We’re going to bounce a few times. Pretend we’re on a rollercoaster.”
