Fallen

by Ann Simko

  "You okay, boy?"

  Startled, he snapped his eyes open and turned in the direction of the voice. An old woman sat on a bench near the church door, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette. At least, he thought it was a cigarette, until the smell wafted his way.

  She could have been eighty or a hundred; it was difficult to tell. Her face was lined and leathery, the face of someone who had spent their entire life outdoors. Her shoulders were stooped, and her fingers gnarled, but there was a humorous glint in her eyes showing that hard work had bent, but not broken her.

  "You want a hit, kiddo?" She offered Dakota the joint. "You sure as hell look like you could use one." She began to laugh, but it turned into a coughing fit that made her eyes water.

  Dakota had to smile. "No, thanks. I'm good."

  "Bullshit." She cast him a toothless grin, and offered the joint again. "Oh, grow some gonads, sonny. They'll be in there a goodly spell. Father Andrews ain't never seen such a crowd, and I reckon he'll make the most of it. Carries on like a shut-in on visiting day, he does, Why do you think I came out here?" She held out the joint. "Come on...it ain't killed me yet."

  He glanced over his shoulder at the closed church doors, and then back at the old woman. "What the hell." He took the joint, inhaled a long drag, and immediately started coughing. He hadn't smoked anything, let alone pot, since his undergrad days.

  The old woman cackled and slapped her knees.

  When his eyes stopped watering and he could speak again, he handed the joint back. "Lady, that's some seriously good shit."

  She inclined her head in recognition of the praise. "Thanks. I grow it myself." Her toothless grin reappeared. "Ray used to be one of my best customers, But don't go tellin' his mama on me now. That woman never did want to hear the truth about her boys."

  Dakota smiled at the grinning, silver-haired, pot-smoking outlaw of an old woman, and realized he hadn't had anything to smile about in weeks. "Thank you, ma'am. My world's been a little screwed up lately. You're a refreshing change."

  "Nothing wrong with this world that can't be fixed, sonny. And if it can't be fixed, well then, this surely does help make it seem—"

  The woman jerked back suddenly. Just a small movement, but then blood trickled down the bridge of her nose from a small round hole in the center of her forehead. The joint still dangled from her fingers.

  For some reason that was the image he fixated on...until he heard, "You have caused me a great deal of trouble, Dr. Thomas."

  Dakota froze. He couldn't turn around. If he didn't look, it couldn't be real. He heard soft footsteps. He saw black dress shoes out of the corner of his eye. He knew those shoes. Swallowing bile, he slowly turned his head away from the dead woman and looked up.

  The General smiled down at him.

  In desperation, he blurted the first thing that came to mind. "The Army has men all over the place. You'll never get out of here alive." He hoped he sounded surer of himself than he felt.

  "If you are referring to the men who escorted you from the airport, or the ones carefully positioned all around this church and the cemetery, most of them are mine. The ones who weren't are now dead."

  Dakota followed the sweep of the General's arm. Surrounding the small rural church with a cemetery off to one side, where an open grave waited to receive Ray's body, were armed soldiers. The same soldiers he'd thought were there to protect him and Ricco. But they all had their weapons trained on him, not on the General.

  He glanced involuntarily toward the church doors.

  The General shook his head, as if reading his thoughts. "There are explosives rigged throughout the church. Unless you want more innocent people to die, I suggest you forget the heroics and come quietly with me."

  Dakota felt his world shrinking, the lens of the microscope bearing down on him. "How?" It was a useless question, but all he could think to ask.

  "You are wonderfully naÏve, Doctor, not a jaded bone in your body. It's quite amusing. The fact is, we have cells everywhere, in every branch of the government. You can't stop this, any more than you can stop the sun from rising. All you and your brother have accomplished is a momentary delay. The Program has been relocated. It will go on, with you as its primary subject."

  Dakota said, hoping for a miracle. "Ricco's inside. You'll kill him if you blow the church."

  "That would be unfortunate, but as I said, we have you now. We are wasting precious time, Doctor. Come quietly and no one else has to die. Not Ricco, not your brother, not any one of the men, women or children in this church, who have no idea that their lives depend on the choice you make at this moment." The General pulled a handgun from under his jacket, chambered a round, and pushed the safety off. "Now, choose."

  Dakota slowly stood, his knees shaking. "I don't have a choice."

  "I was so hoping you would see it that way."

  Dakota glanced back at the church doors once more and the old woman still sitting there. "You didn't have to kill her. She was no threat to you."

  "She was nothing, just an old woman, long past being useful to anyone. I gave her a quick, clean death, probably better than she deserved. Now move, Doctor."

  Dakota felt trapped in a bad dream, unable to wake up. He walked in a daze down the steps, ushered by the General and two armed guards who had moved in.

  One gave him a shove with the barrel of his rifle. "Over there." He motioned to a white cargo van with a flower shop logo on the side, parked on a narrow stretch of road between the cemetery plots.

  They had covered half the distance to the van, when Dakota heard the door to the church open. He turned and saw Montana standing in the doorway, his attention on the dead woman, just before his brother looked up and saw him. For a fraction of second, time seemed to stand still as they stared at one another across an unbreachable chasm.

  Then the spell was broken, and hell lashed out.

  "Take care of it!" The General pushed Dakota hard, just as the soldier raised his rifle and fired, his silenced weapon making a harsh cough.

  Montana was on the move and reaching for his weapon when the bullet hit. Dakota saw him crumple to the ground.

  "Move!" The General pushed Dakota again.

  Dakota stumbled forward, but regained his footing and looked back over his shoulder. Montana wasn't moving. He lay exactly as he had fallen, with blood flowing down the side of his head.

  "No!" He didn't know if the word was meant as a denial that Montana was down, or in response to the General's order. All he knew was this had to end. He would not have his life taken from him as Ricco's had been.

  The General pushed him once more, and this time Dakota went down. He stayed there, feigning helplessness, until the General reached down and grabbed him by the shirt.

  "Up, Doctor. Get up."

  As the General hauled him to his feet, he looked back at the church. In that moment of distraction, Dakota wrenched the gun out of his hand.

  His left side was still useless. Dakota took several steps back, fumbling with the heavy, unfamiliar weapon in his one good hand. He shook so much he almost dropped it. In his panic, all he could think about was getting his finger on the trigger. When he did, the gun roared like a cannon and the recoil nearly pushed him back to the ground.

  He missed the General completely, but the shot served another purpose. Everyone in the church must have heard it. He regained his balance and, with the roar still ringing in his ears, he turned around and ran. Shots cut the air around him, one so close he could feel the heat as it passed by his ear.

  "Stop," The General yelled. "Do not kill him, you idiots! Wound him, but nothing mortal. I need this man!"

  Dakota hid behind one of the large granite memorials, thankful for the moment that his life had some value. He had to think fast or they would take him. Montana was probably dead, but he would deal with that later. Ito and Ricco had to know there was trouble, but he couldn't count on their help. If there was any way out of this, he was on his own to find it.

  He r
isked peeking around the headstone, which brought immediate gunfire. A shard of granite ripped open the flesh of one cheek. "Shit!" He dropped the gun and ducked back, while wiping blood from his stinging cheek with the palm of his hand.

  "So much for non-lethal force." His eyes watered as he picked up the gun, and without looking or aiming, he poked the barrel around the corner of the headstone and fired. The roar was deafening and the recoil snapped his wrist back so hard that the gun almost flew out of his hand.

  He stared at the smoking weapon in disbelief. "What the hell is this thing?" More gunfire caused him to flinch and tighten up his position behind the granite headstone.

  After a few rounds were fired, he realized the gunfire wasn't directed at him. He heard the General bark rapid orders and risked another glance around the stone. He felt a measure of relief to see armed men pouring out of the church, but more importantly, the General and his men were no longer paying attention to him. His heart pounding in his ears, Dakota jumped up and ran.

  At the far side of the cemetery he took shelter at the side of a large mausoleum. He was surrounded; it was daylight, and he had little cover. With his hand shaking, and using his cast for support, Dakota checked his ammo. Minus the two he had fired, he had five rounds left. That would never be enough.

  Ricco's request to Montana came back to him, and he made a promise to himself. If it came down to it, he would save the final bullet to deprive the General of his prize. He wondered if he would have the courage to take his own life.

  He was about to find out.

  "Drop the gun or I swear to God, I'll blow your fucking hand off! Let's see you try and heal that." The order came from behind him.

  Dakota froze.

  "Drop it. I won't say it again."

  Closing his eyes in defeat, he let the weapon drop with a quiet thud to the grass, and held his hands out to his side as he blinked blood and sweat out of his eyes.

  "Stand up."

  Dakota complied the best he could. The sense of failure left him numb and off balance.

  The soldier came up behind him and retrieved the gun. "Now, turn the fuck around."

  He started to turn, but before he got halfway around, the soldier took a quick step toward him and slammed the butt of his rifle into the soft underside of Dakota's chin. He went down hard, landing flat on his back. Black specks danced in front of his eyes, and his vision blurred. When he could focus once more, he saw the soldier looming over him.

  "That was for Carlson."

  "Who?" Dakota's mind reeled along with the black specks. "You mean, Bubba?"

  The soldier gave him a vicious kick in the side with the toe of his boot. Dakota felt a rib crack, and cried out in pain as he curled himself into a ball. "Carlson, motherfucker! Sergeant William Robert Carlson! You got it? He was a good man and he's dead because of you!"

  "Okay, okay..." Each breath brought a stabbing pain to his side. "Carlson... Got it."

  "Screw you."

  The soldier jerked him to his feet and pushed him forward. Any thought of escape abandoned him, as staying on his feet required his complete attention. Gunfire continued to come from the direction of the church. He prayed that Ito was winning the fight.

  The soldier herded him down a small incline and, without any warning, punched him in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground. "Carlson saved your worthless life." He picked Dakota back up and a sadistic grin spread across his face. "That ain't my style."

  Dakota saw the punch coming, but was helpless to defend himself. A whole galaxy of stars exploded in his head as he flew backwards, and once again, landed hard on his back. On the verge of passing out, he watched the soldier walk towards him with his fists clenching and unclenching and a glassy, wild look in his eyes. It was as if the more pain he caused Dakota, the more out of control he became.

  "Just give me a reason, that's all I ask." He dragged Dakota to his feet and drew back a fist.

  Dakota might not have had the courage to pull the trigger to end his life but maybe he didn't have to. Maybe this soldier would do him that one favor. Maybe he could still deprive the General of his prize. "What...what about your orders...the General?"

  This time, the punch hit Dakota's broken ribs, stealing his breath and leaving mind-numbing pain behind.

  The soldier grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him up until they were face to face. "Understand something, Doc." His face twisted into an ugly mask of hate. "I'm not Carlson. I don't give a damn about orders. And I don't give a fuck about the General. All I need is an excuse, and I'll put a bullet in your brain."

  "But you won't, Captain, because I am paying you an obscene amount of money to keep this man alive."

  The soldier dropped Dakota and stepped back.

  Dakota lay in a broken, bloody heap, gasping for breath, all hopes of the guard killing him dashed.

  "Get him loaded into the van without further incident, Captain. Once we're moving, I will ignite the charges."

  The General didn't sound as collected as he had earlier. Dakota prayed, to whatever God might be listening, that they had met with some opposition. Sporadic gunfire still sounded from the cemetery as the soldier he now thought of as Evil-Bubba picked him up and threw him into the back of the empty cargo van.

  The doors slammed shut on any hopes he might have had of getting away. Evil-Bubba sat on the floor opposite of him. "I ain't done with you, pal." He glanced forward to make sure the General wasn't watching, and then kicked Dakota in the head with his heel.

  As the van started to move, Dakota heard a deafening explosion. A shock wave rocked the van, and debris rained down on the metal roof as they sped away. He rolled onto his side, his thoughts choked with despair.

  It's over, and the bad guys have won.

  Chapter 22

  Ray's service was interrupted once again. This time by the sound of a single shot. Instantly Ito was on his feet, racing to the back of the church followed closely by, Ricco, Patrick and the dozen undercover Delta Force Rangers stationed in the church.

  One of the Rangers grabbed Ricco before he got to the door. "Stay here."

  "Like hell." Ricco wrenched his arm away.

  Ito stepped between them, using his size as an equalizer. "There's no time for this, son. I promise I'll keep an eye on the private."

  The Ranger didn't look happy but there wasn't time for arguments. "If you say so, sir. But he's going to need this." He held out his Glock.

  "Stay close, don't get hit," Ito said as he handed the weapon to Ricco.

  He made it out the doors first and immediately drew small arms fire from the cemetery. Bullets snapped into the stone walls as he dove for cover behind an iron planter. In between volleys he tried to assess the situation.

  Armed men in forest BDUs formed a perimeter, but Dakota was nowhere in sight. Montana was down and next to him was an old woman with a gunshot wound to the head.

  Their security had been compromised and the church was in a vulnerable position. On high ground, it was exposed, with only the front door as an exit. Montana had argued about holding the funeral in the church, but Ray's family had refused to budge. The church was over two-hundred years old. Ray had been baptized there and by God, he would be buried there.

  Ito realized the troops he had positioned around the cemetery were either dead or infiltrated. The only men he could trust were inside the church. He keyed his earpiece. "Blue team leader—perimeter breach. Repeat, hostiles inside perimeter. Load up now."

  He heard the team leader give directions to his men and knew assault rifles were being retrieved from hiding places inside the confessionals. His men poured out of the church with amazing speed.

  One Ranger stayed behind to ensure the unarmed parishioners' safety. But as soon as he told them to stay put, one of Delta team's demolition experts stepped inside the church.

  "We have a bomb," Ito heard him say quietly, but urgently. "Explosives rigged to a remote control all around the exterior. Get these people o
ut of here!"

  Ito threw Montana over his shoulder. Panicked church-goers spilled from the building and ran as fast and as far away as they could.

  It was a nightmare. The Rangers were taking fire from the cemetery while dealing with unarmed civilians, wounded, and a bomb that could go off at any time. As they returned fire, Ito realized that numbers were in their favor. Whoever was out there had counted on surprise, not force. The Rangers advanced and the return fire tapered off, and then ceased.

  Moments later the church exploded. A red-orange fireball engulfed the wooden structure. Burning debris, like hell's rain, descended on them.

  Ito covered Montana with his own body. The shockwave pinned them all to the ground momentarily. When it passed Delta force wasted no time. They advanced.

  "They took Dakota...there," Ito pointed to the white van just going over a slight rise. "I think I saw him there."

  The nearest Ranger gave a slight nod and touched his earpiece, relaying the information. "How is the Major?"

  Ito hadn't had a chance to check. He didn't even know if Montana was alive. He slid slippery fingers along the side of Montana's throat and let out a breath of sheer relief.

  "He's alive. I think the bullet just grazed the side of his head. A lot of blood, but no real damage."

  As if on cue, Montana moaned and opened his eyes. At first, they were unfocused and confused. Blinking the blood out of his eyes, he looked from the Ranger to Ito and tried to sit up. Ito helped him. He looked a little shaky, but he was still with it.

  "How you doing?" Ito said.

  Montana shook his head. He staggered as he tried to get to his knees.

  Ito helped steady him. "Take it easy."

  "What the hell happened?" Montana put a hand to his head. It came back bright red with blood. His eyes seemed to snap into focus and he tried to stand. He didn't get far, as Ito kept him still.

  "Where's Dakota?"

  "In trouble," Ito said.

  "Sir." One of the Rangers from the church ran up, his hand over his ear piece. "I just got word the Major's brother has been taken. He's in the white van and it's on the move." He pointed to the van, which was just turning out of the cemetery.