The Sons of Liberty

by James Tow

scope. The soldier is taunting Ron just before the execution. I slip my finger against the trigger and take in a deep breath. The soldier holds his gun to Ron’s face, and I squeeze the trigger. The silenced shot rips through the air. Immediately after I fire, a second shot rings through my ears. And our targets tumble to the ground.

  The soldiers fall into a state of panic as they see bullets penetrate their comrades’ heads. They spread out, guns in front of them, examining the area. Three soldiers try to finish the execution of the baffled Freedom Fighters.

  “Protect them,” Gabriel hissed. With precise aim, I take out the far left soldier while Gabriel takes out the other two. The two Freedom Fighters get to their feet, and look around like a couple of clueless chickens.

  “Run,” I grunt to myself, and they sprint off as if they could hear me. They turned and ran for the nearest Humvee for cover. More soldiers try to follow them, but Gabriel and I quickly cut them down.

  “Pick them off,” Gabriel told me, and we continued to generate a silent riot that sends the soldiers into further frenzy. They start firing off into area—hoping to stop their invisible monster.

  About ten of them fall until one screams, “In the bushes!” They turn and focus their fire on the brush around the Jester Center. Toni, Keith, and the others retaliate with fire of their own. Then a stampede of raging allies storm onto the field—firing upon the soldiers’ backs. The Army scatters throughout the area—hiding behind vehicles. Pollick, and a small party of soldiers, run around to the front lobby of San Jacinto Residence Hall.

  With The Army’s attention torn between the two sides, Gabriel and I step into the field. I focus my fire on protecting the two Freedom Fighters. Luckily, we had a large supply of ammo for I reloaded for the second time already. A loud ‘thump’ sounded from Gabriel’s gun, and the grenade landed in the middle of the heaviest concentration of soldiers left standing.

  Their numbers were quickly diminishing. All that was left was the small group hidden throughout the vehicles, and the group within the dorms.

  We reached the two Freedom Fighters and I tossed both of them my pistols.

  “Thank you,” Ron gasped.

  “Not now,” Gabriel said. The two Freedom Fighters got up and hunted the remaining soldiers within the field.

  “Head for the building!” Gabriel commanded me, pointing at San Jacinto. He advanced forward, in a low crouch, trying to stay clear of cross-fire. Following him at a quick pace, and in a crouch that made my legs burn, we made it to the first of the two towers of San Jacinto alive. We ran around the building to the front entrance of the second tower—positioned behind the first.

  Sprinting footsteps and heavy breathing stop behind me—Chris, Justin, and Ebben stop at my heels. They stood there, awaiting orders, so I nodded for them to follow. We walked up the flight of steps toward the entrance, and Gabriel opened the front door. Smoke poured out from behind the open it. He swung it open, and stepped inside with his gun leading the way. I followed closely behind him, but he was barely visible due to the thick smokescreen. We crept forward, and the front lobby’s large wooden desk came into view.

  The unfamiliarity of the layout left my mind in a state of angst. Though it didn’t stop Gabriel for he slowly advanced, so I kept our gap at mere inches.

  “This is insane,” Justin muttered—Chris and Ebben both ‘shhh-ed’ at his remark. I looked back at the babbling moron, shaking my head, when Gabriel screamed, “Get down!” The blasting sound of a rocket’s exhaust echoed through the room. All I could see was a bright yellow light, but I didn’t want to stand there and see the rest. Gabriel and I dove left and were in mid-air when the RPG exploded against the front lobby’s desk. The blast changed our two-foot dive to the side into a ten foot backwards jump.

  I tried to find my footing—falling several times in the process. As soon as I found it, a cold fist connected forcefully against my cheek—sending me on my back. Then a soldier straddled my upper body—locking my arms under his legs. I was helpless as he pounded a few heavy hands against my face. I was still deaf, but my vision started to clear. The soldier wrapped his cold hands around my neck, and I saw his face—the worker from the sign-up desk.

  I struggled to free my hands as I started to black out. I was disconnected from the feeling of my body as I begun to fall unconscious. Then a vise grip of a hand clamped around the soldier’s mouth—throwing him against the wall. He tried to fend himself against Gabriel, but it was no use—it never is against Gabriel. The soldier threw a punch, but Gabriel ducked and struck his throat. Then Gabriel took the blade from his vest and stabbed downward aiming for the soldier neck. I turned away, gasping for air, just before the bloodshed.

  On the floor in front of me were three motionless bodies. I scrambled to the closest one. Justin lay on his back, his eyes wide and lifeless. I shuffled to the next body, where Ebben lay still but moaned with pain.

  “You’ll be alright,” I whispered in his ear and realized I couldn’t hear myself. I went to Chris—his eyes were closed, mouth open, and shrapnel covering the left side of his body. I shook his body calling his name. “Chris…Chris…Chris!” I said as my voice finally came through my own ears.

  A hand rested on my shoulder, “He’ll be fine…just unconscious,” Gabriel reassured. I didn’t listen. I continued to shake his body, but then Gabriel forced me to my feet. He turned me to face him, “I need you now,” he said and put the M4 against my chest. I reluctantly grabbed it. He lightly slapped me across the face and said, “Focus Paul.”

  Laughter broke my attention to the rocket’s source. Through the smokescreen I could hear two soldiers laughing. Gabriel brought his scarf over his face and nodded. I nodded back.

  He sprinted forward, and I followed several feet behind him. We hurdled over the crippled front desk, and the laughing soldiers appeared in our sights. The pair of them had dread spread across their faces once we arose from the smoke. The one to the left dropped his rocket and bumbled for his other weapon. Gabriel was a juggernaut—sprinting in his direction with no intentions of stopping. The soldier to the right brought out his rifle and aimed at Gabriel. I dropped to one knee and unloaded my clip into his body. I was reloading as I watched Gabriel bring his blade up behind him, and carved a deep laceration in the soldier’s face.

  Gabriel used his victim’s body as a shield when gunfire from the hall to our left rained upon him. His shield didn’t hold up well as bullets grazed his arms and legs. I got up against the wall, aimed my rifle, and fired a grenade. The echoing screams told me it was safe. With my gun in front of me, I cautiously advanced down the dust-filled hall. Three downed soldiers lay at the end with one scurrying around on the ground for a weapon. I aimed and squeezed the trigger.

  ‘Click.’ Damn, empty.

  I dropped the gun and raced down the hall toward him. He rolled over aiming a shotgun when I leaped over the pile of debris and corpses. He fired and missed as I jumped to the left side of the hall, onto a large chunk of collapsed wall. I jumped back toward the soldier and landed with my knees flying into his armpits just before he could get another shot off. I snatched the gun from his grip. I aimed at his face, looked away, and fired. I slowly got to my feet, the adrenaline wearing off as I had to use my hand on the wall in front of me for support. Then a pistol pressed against the back of my head.

  “Now, you die Mr. Reed,” Pollick’s smug voice sent hatred, and defeat through my veins. The pressure he exerted was suddenly forced off my neck. Pollick fired a shot into the wall as Gabriel had a hold of his wrist and the back of his head. He slammed Pollick’s head into the wall then drove his palm into Pollick’s elbow as he pulled back on his wrist. The satisfying crunch of Pollick’s hyper-extended elbow sent him to the ground. Gabriel then put his foot on Pollick’s throat, and aimed a pistol at his face.

  Pollick held his good arm to his face as if it would stop the bullet. He lay on his back, whimpering, as Gabriel deliberated. I watched my brother slowly squeeze the trigger. I walked to
his side, putting my hand on the gun, and gently pushed it down to his side.

  “That’s too good for him,” I told Gabriel.

  Gabriel holstered his gun, looked up at me, and nodded in agreement.

  We looked down at the pathetic general. “We’re going old school on your ass,” Gabriel told him.

  “You’re going to re…” Pollick started to shout.

  “Shut the hell up,” Gabriel growled and came down with a powerful right fist—smashing against his nose. I was fascinated by the unconscious Pollick’s face.

  “Whoa…look at his nose,” I said to Gabriel—pointing at Pollick’s face. The point of his nose was facing to the right, and was mashed against his face. “I’ve never seen that before,” I said to myself. Gabriel and I looked at each other, and stifled a laugh.

  He picked up Pollick’s body and threw him over his shoulder. We saw Ebben back on his feet when we made it to the lobby.

  “Carry Justin’s body,” I told him, taking Chris’ and throwing him over my shoulder.

  The cool nighttime breeze rushed against my face when we walked outside. Cheers from Clark Field flooded my ears as we walked back toward the celebrating crowd.

  “NNOOOO!!” a woman shrieked as we walked onto the field—the celebration quickly died. The crying woman,