“Boise? You’re thinking about taking that job?”
“Yeah, I think I need a change. I at least owe it to myself to go see the city, visit the branch office and see if it’s something that makes sense.”
“How soon would you have to leave if you took the job?” he asked, shocked to hear the news.
“Soon.”
“You don’t mess around. I screw up and you’re now leaving?”
“I just think I need to look, that’s all. I need to get away for a few days. Stay at the house while I’m gone. And, Trevor, I do love you, I’m just…what happened with you and the police, it really disappointed me. You know trust is a big thing with me.”
“You go from wanting to stay to now possibly moving, in the matter of days.”
“Circumstances changed.”
“Don’t leave. Give me a chance.”
“I’m not leaving yet, and I am giving you a chance. Go prove yourself to me,” she said, looking at the clock on her dash. “It’s late. I’m tired and hungry. Goodnight, Trevor,” she said before raising her window and pulling off.
She had risen the stakes for him. If he truly wanted her back, he needed to do not talk. Now was a time for action and he was going to show her he could be that man.
Northern Minnesota
“Where’s Owens?” Brennan asked when he first entered the children’s housing, a two-story wood-sided building meant to look like a huge log cabin.
“Roof,” the SEAL replied.
Brenna turned to Vickers. “Put the platoon into action; fill in any holes defensively. I’ll be right back.”
“Copy that,” Vickers said.
Brennan raced up the stairs. On the second floor the sounds of whimpers and cries from children could be heard. He ignored them and proceeded up until he reached the roof. Outside, he heard Owens before seeing him. “Senior Chief, first platoon is here. Where do you need us?”
“Your timing is perfect, there’s a lull. For some reason those things stopped attacking us. It’s like—”
“They’re devising a plan,” Brennan interrupted.
“Exactly.”
“These things are smarter, stronger, faster. They’re not the same things we fought in Somalia,” Brennan said.
“Tell me about it. We failed to secure the barracks. Eventually we were pushed back to defending the children’s housing. I’ve called for air support but they’re refusing. I’ve called for evac, but they’re working out details to get us out of here,” Owens informed him.
“Working out details? What the hell does that mean?” Brennan asked, shocked to hear the update.
“In all the years I’ve been doing this, I’ve never heard that. I’m sure it has something to do with the fact we’re operating on US soil.”
“Ha, they’re calculating the political risks now that this has gone sideways,” Brennan said.
“Sideways? We aren’t finished yet,” Owens said.
Brennan peeked over the pony wall and said, “Two downed Ospreys, dozens dead and more injured, I’d say this op has gone sideways.”
“I disagree, this is just combat, brother. Thing is, we’re finally fighting a formidable enemy,” Owens said.
“What’s the plan?”
“While we have this lull, we need to get these kids out of here.”
“Where?”
“Anyplace but here. There’s a school bus parked over there,” Owens said, pointing northwest to a building just past the research building Brennan had cleared. “We need that bus to haul these kids out of here.”
“Keys?” Brennan asked, looking in the direction Owens pointed; however, he couldn’t see the bus from his vantage point.
“A woman, a guidance counselor of sorts, she’s been helpful, says the keys are in the main office on the first floor here.”
“I’ll send Vickers and Dietz,” Brennan said.
“Once you get back, we’ll load up the kids, and we’ll all get the hell out of here.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Brennan said.
“How’s your platoon holding up?”
“Not good, team three is gone, lost one in team two, and I’m down two,” Brennan replied.
“Second platoon suffered about the same trying to take those barracks. Third platoon is solid, no fatalities,” Owens said.
“I’ll get those guys ready to go—”
“Here they COME!” someone hollered out from their rooftop position.
Brennan looked over the wall and saw a wave of droolers racing towards them. He was in awe of their speed.
Gunfire erupted from all positions.
Brennan leveled his rifle and began firing.
The halogen streetlights that lined the compound and the corners of the buildings gave them plenty of illumination to see the droolers.
“Reloading,” Brennan cried out as he dropped the empty magazine from his rifle and loaded a fresh one.
“Cease fire, cease fire!” Owens hollered.
The gunfire stopped.
Owens looked out. Drooler bodies lay strewn across the parking lot. “That was fast. I think they’re testing our defenses.”
“Call command. We need support; we need evac. What happened to them providing local and state law enforcement?”
“I’ll try again, but in the meantime, we need to think about getting out of here ourselves. We have the intel, we have the kids, now let’s catch a ride.”
“You’re right. I’ll send my guys out ASAP,” Brennan said, running off.
The plan was simple. Make a run for the bus and bring it back to the children’s housing.
Brennan recruited Dietz, Vickers, Klyde and himself to get the bus. The idea was for Klyde to provide over watch from a building rooftop that overlooked the bus while the three would get to the bus and bring it back. Dietz’s primary role was to provide cover on the ground with his SAW if any droolers came their way.
“Klyde, make for that building and get on the roof. Signal us when you’re in place. We’ll cover you,” Brennan said.
“Roger that,” Klyde said before sprinting off.
“These keys better work,” Vickers said, holding the single key attached to a rabbit’s foot. “I never guessed they believed in such things.”
“He’s made it,” Dietz said of Klyde, pointing to the single flash from the rooftop.
“Okay, I’ll lead the way. Dietz you’ll be last. On the count of three. One, two, three,” Brennan said and sprinted from the north door towards the far building.
Vickers and Dietz were right behind him.
Brennan’s heart pounded harder with each step he took on the gravel. The lights of the compound were a blessing and a curse. They had good visual, but that also meant they could be seen.
“Kilo Actual, I’m not sure that bus is going to be adequate,” Klyde radioed.
Brennan rounded the corner to find Klyde was right. The bus was there, but it was a short bus and wouldn’t hold everyone. He ran for the door and pried it open.
Dietz ran past and took up a defensive position to the west.
Vickers ran onto the bus and got behind the wheel. He inserted the key. “It fits, that’s a good sign. Now let’s see if she starts.”
“Stop talking and get it started,” Brennan snapped.
Vickers turned the key and pressed the accelerator.
The bus roared to life.
He looked at Brennan and said, “Everyone on board the short bus!”
“Dietz, come on,” Brennan hollered.
Not hesitating, Dietz ran back and jumped on the bus.
“We have movement, west, coming your way,” Klyde radioed.
Brennan looked in that direction but couldn’t see anything past the shadows. “I’ve got nothing.”
“They’re coming. I’m engaging now,” Klyde said.
Several shots rang out.
“Get on!” Vickers barked.
Brennan ignored him. He raised his rifle and pointed it west.
> Klyde fired again. “I’ve got ten, maybe more, coming your way.”
Out of the shadows the droolers emerged.
Brennan aimed and began to fire.
“Sergeant Brennan, get on the bus!” Vickers hollered.
More droolers came.
“Shit!” Brennan yelled. He stepped back and got on the bus. “Drive!”
Vickers slammed on the accelerator; the bus lurched backwards.
Klyde kept firing, but he kept missing the fast-moving targets.
Dietz lowered a window, stuck his SAW out and began to fire.
Vickers was more focused on the advancing droolers, and he didn’t see the stacked empty wooden pallets behind him.
The bus crashed into the pallets and came to a full and sudden stop.
Brennan, who had been standing in the open doorway, slammed into the door and fell out of the bus.
Dietz smacked his face against the window, cutting open his forehead.
Unfazed, Vickers put the bus in drive and hit the accelerator.
Brennan jumped up and got his bearings, but not before a drooler was on top of him. “Ah, fuck!” he cried out.
The drooler snapped its jaws as it tried to bite him in the face. The only thing preventing it was Brennan had its neck in his hands and the drooler extended out from his body. “Somebody help!” Brennan called out, feeling his muscles start to give.
A single shot rang out.
The drooler’s head exploded. Its body went limp.
Brennan tossed it off him, looked up and saw another only feet away.
Klyde fired again; this shot struck the drooler in the chest. It lunged forward using its momentum and landed on top of Brennan.
Vickers turned the bus around and was headed towards Brennan. However, he had company now, as several droolers were clinging to the sides.
Brennan found his rifle and began to shoot at the droolers dangling from the bus.
Vickers slammed on the brakes near Brennan.
One drooler lost its grip and fell off.
Brennan quickly shot it several times.
“Get on!” Vickers hollered.
“No, get the bus back, go. I’ll cause a diversion!” Brennan yelled before sprinting towards a large metal-sided building.
Vickers hated to leave him, but he sped off.
With Klyde’s support, the two droolers hanging on the sides of the bus were shot.
Brennan ran to the building, screaming and hollering with hopes he’d draw the droolers towards him.
It worked. They broke off from pursuing the bus and went after him.
He reached a side door of the building, prayed it was unlocked and tried to open it.
It opened.
He tossed the door open and ran into the darkness. Thinking quickly, he locked the door using a dead bolt. “Klyde, I need you to stay on post. You’re my eyes,” he radioed.
“I’ve got you,” Klyde called back.
“What’s happening?” Brennan asked.
“You know me, Sergeant, I never sugarcoat, so I’ll give it to you straight. You’re in a bit of trouble.”
Chula Vista, California
Like the last time he’d been taken, Mo was forced to wear a hood. He hated it. The smell of old sweat, saliva and canvas made for a putrid smell.
The van came to a stop. By Mo’s count, this would be the fourth time.
The driver and passenger doors opened and closed.
“I don’t think they wash these things,” Malik joked.
“Why have us wear them?” an unfamiliar voice asked.
“Precautions, prevents anything bad happening. They’re safe, nothing more, don’t take it personal,” another unfamiliar voice replied.
The side door opened.
“Take off your hoods,” Kareem ordered.
Mo did but was greeted by the bright beam of a flashlight. He recoiled and shielded his eyes. “Where are we?”
“No questions, just get out,” Kareem said.
Mo, Malik and two others got out and stood in the cool evening air.
“Follow that man inside,” Kareem ordered pointing to a long figure walking towards an abandoned warehouse.
Mo glanced around to get his bearings but nothing looked familiar.
Kareem stepped up beside Mo. “I’ve got my eye on you.”
“You do?”
“I don’t trust you, but Farouk does, so you’re here. I think we should have killed you.”
“Oh.”
“Where are we?” Mo asked.
Kareem grabbed Mo firmly by the shoulder and spun him around. “Always with the questions. I suggest you just do as we ask, no questions.”
“Can’t I ask? It’s not like I’m going anywhere until we go do what we’re going to do,” Mo quipped.
Kareem licked his dry lips and said, “This place will be your home, your final home. Here you’ll be taught what you need to know about being a martyr for Allah.” Kareem spun him towards the building. “It’s not much to look at but this will be where you spend your last days. Enjoy them.”
Northern Minnesota
Brennan stood silently, listening for any sound or movement in the building. In all the confusion and chaos, he didn’t think about what might wait for him inside, but he did know what was outside. Never in all his years as a Marine had he felt so alone, so vulnerable.
Growing up, hunting was a part of life. He enjoyed it, but now he felt like the animals he hunted. He was no longer the predator, he was the prey. It was a role reversal he didn’t care for one bit.
Tiny fragments of light broke the darkness but wasn’t enough to allow him to see anything.
His heart pounded and sweat poured down his face. He’d managed to elude the droolers, but his experience told him his time would run out.
Something stirred outside the door.
He began to walk backwards, unsure of where he was going, putting any distance he could between him and the door.
The door handle jiggled, followed by the sound of nails scraping on the metal door.
Should I just shoot through the door? he thought.
He wasn’t completely alone. He had his radio and contact with anyone from Unit 5.
The door handle jiggled more then stopped.
“Kilo Three, status? Over.”
No response.
Where are you, Klyde?
He took several more steps backwards and ran into a table. A glass bottle wobbled but didn’t fall over.
His heart about jumped out of his chest.
“Kilo Three, come in. Over,” he said.
No response, the radio was silent.
Is he dead? Did they kill Klyde?
“Mike Actual, this is Kilo Actual. Come in. Over,” Brennan radioed Owens.
“Go for Mike Actual,” Owens replied.
“I’m in a bit of a situation,” Brennan said.
“Talk to me,” Owens said.
“I’m stuck in a building. Tangos on the outside. I’m by myself. By last count I think I saw seven, maybe eight.”
“Just hold tight. We’re loading the bus now. We’ve had to secure a couple of trucks too, can’t fit everyone.”
Heavy banging at the door.
“I don’t think you understand,” Brennan stressed.
Gunfire began to roar in the distance.
“Gotta go. We’re under attack again,” Owens said and went silent.
“Shit,” Brennan said out loud.
He reached back and felt the table behind him. Like a blind person, he navigated his way around it by touch.
“Kilo Actual, Kilo Actual!” the radio boomed. It was Klyde.
Hearing Klyde’s voice gave him hope. “I’m blind in here. What’s it look like out there?” He anticipated a prompt response but none came. “Damn it, Klyde, you’re my eyes. What’s going on?”
At first his ears heard a distant patter coming from outside near the door. It grew in volume with each second and kept building an
d building, like a crescendo.
Brennan knew something was coming.
The sound grew louder.
“Klyde, I hear something. What’s happening? Talk to me.”
“Run! Run!” Klyde yelled over the radio.
The far wall was hit by what sounded like a wave of bodies all striking it simultaneously.
Brennan did as Klyde said; he turned around and sprinted to the opposite wall. He reached it and began to feel for a door.
The sound of stressed metal tortured his ears.
“Sergeant Brennan, run, fucking run! Get out of there!” Klyde barked.
Gunfire cracked from outside. It was closer than the heavy gunfire in the distance coming from the assault on the children’s housing.
Brennan found the door handle, pushed hard and raced out. He ran full force into a drooler.
They both fell.
It stood and shrieked, raising its arms above its head.
He raised his rifle and shot it in the face.
The back of its head exploded and it fell to the ground like a heavy sack.
He got to his feet, looked and saw the west door to the laboratory building.
The door to the building he was just in gave way. A flood of droolers sprinted through it, shrieking and screaming.
He grabbed the handle of the laboratory west door and pulled.
It didn’t budge.
Using both hands, he pulled harder.
Still the door wouldn’t move.
“Shit!” he hollered.
The shrieks and screams grew louder. They were closing in.
“To your left, small shed!” Klyde hollered over the radio.
Brennan looked. The shed was mere feet from him. He got to it. The single door was open. He stepped in and closed it, but it wouldn’t lock.
Heavy footfalls, panting and growls came from outside the shed.
Several shots sounded.
A heavy thump hit the ground just outside the door of the shed. Klyde was back in action and providing much-needed cover.
More gunfire.
The footfalls moved away from the shed door.
Brennan closed his eyes, slowed his breathing and prayed. The funny thing was, he had nothing else but prayer, because if they found him, he’d be dead.
Day of Reckoning Page 23
