Apache Dawn: Book I of the Wildfire Saga

by Marcus Richardson

  Farther behind Charlie, the other fireteam was doing the same. He took a quick scan of the immediate area and counted at least twenty dead or dying North Koreans. He grinned. Poor bastards never had a chance. Just the way he liked it.

  Another jet screamed low overhead, splitting the night sky as it streaked away trailing smoke, fire, and destruction. The smile faded from Cooper’s face. North Koreans doing ground strikes in downtown L.A…Where the hell was the Air Force?

  Cooper watched as Charlie took a second to slap in a fresh magazine and stow the partially spent one in his tactical vest. He checked his weapon and nodded at Cooper. He looked back at his fireteam and flashed the hand signal to cover the lead elements. Cooper did the same and watched as his team took knees and scanned all sectors, looking for someone to shoot. Other than the occasional North Korean that rolled over half-dead, there was really no one that needed dispatching. His SEALS had been efficient, brutal, and lethal. They had used the element of surprise and had wiped out at least twenty enemy soldiers—marines by the look of their uniforms.

  Cooper looked at Charlie and motioned to enter the building. Charlie nodded and ducked under a piece of the wall and stepped in, weapon up. Cooper followed a second later. Behind him, he could barely hear the footsteps of his Team moving forward.

  Once they cleared the immediate entry-point, the smoke dissipated and their night-vision was effective again. Cooper looked around the small waiting room and notice two figures in dark outfits with small packs on their backs moving toward the far wall where an exit door was being held open by a third. The figures turned and started firing.

  Cooper dove for the deck and rolled left into a corridor. Charlie and the rest of the Team went to the right and sought cover behind the low walls of the waiting area. Plaster and masonry exploded in little puffs as the North Korean marines fired their AK-47s blind. The noise was deafening.

  Cooper raised his MP5 and sighted in one smooth-as-butter motion and fired two shots to the head of the first soldier. Before that man knew he was dead, two more bullets were flying downrange to his partner’s face. The third soldier screamed as he saw his two comrades die and slammed the door.

  “Clear!” called Cooper. The SEALs ran through the waiting area, stepping over bodies and checking for survivors. Two or three of them were scanning for enemies and covering the rest that knelt down to check for signs of life among the fallen bodies strewn through the room.

  “Got a lot of dead civvies,” Jax said sadly, kneeling next to a small boy. “No pulse. Most of ‘em still warm. Lot of blood, man…”

  “Got a bunch of ‘em over here, no wounds…” said Swede. “Oh shit…”

  “What is it?” asked Charlie’s hushed voice.

  “Bio-hazard sign taped to one of the bodies. Looks like flu victims.”

  Cooper looked around, night-vision goggles casting an eerie green light on the macabre scene. Whole place is full of bodies.

  “More over here,” said Mike, kneeling a few feet away from Cooper.

  Well that’s comforting, Cooper thought. The NKors sure picked a convenient time to attack—he paused, mid stride to examine the bio-hazard sticker hastily slapped on the black body bag at his feet.

  That’s why there’s so many of them here. They knew in advance the flu would be deadly and take out a lot of their own people. Son of a bitch. There’s no way they could have timed this…bastards turned the flu into a weapon and hit us at just the right time…

  Cooper stepped away from the pile of flu victims and instinctively covered his mouth. “Everyone break out your masks…no body touch anything!”

  “Found a stash of level-three respirators over here!” called out Jax. He tossed one to Cooper. “Looks like they were in the process of handing them out when the NKors breached.”

  “Good find,” Cooper said. “Everyone put ‘em on.”

  He put his mask on and hoped it didn’t distort his voice too much as looked up in the air and spoke again, keying his mic: “Slipknot Support, do you read?”

  “Secret Service, any unit, respond,” Cooper said, his radio blasting on all emergency channels. “I say again, Secret Service, respond!”

  A few static-filled word faintly came back over the bone phone in his ear. “Say again!” he called out.

  “This is Slipknot Support…nnnnhh…” Cooper heard gunfire and shouting in the background.

  “Slipknot Support, this is Striker 1, Actual, what’s your sit-rep?”

  “Goddamn, I’m glad to hear your voice. Lacey, over there!” more gunfire erupted. “They’re pouring down the corridors. We’re pinned down at the entrance to the Critical Care wing. I got wounded and KIA. Seven effectives left. We’re holed up opposite the nurse’s station. Whoever the hell you are, you better hurry.”

  “Is Slipknot secured? I say again, is Slipknot secured?” Cooper pointed at his arm-guard map and then at Charlie. His XO flipped through wrist-mounted maps of his own, looking for the Critical Ward.

  “Affirmative, Slipknot is secured, but I can’t tell you for how long. I’ve got at least a company of enemy combatants in front of us. Who the hell are these guys? Where did they come from?” More gunfire and screaming.

  “Hold your position,” Cooper said. “The cavalry’s on its way. Striker, out.”

  “That way!” Charlie said, pointing toward a large double door to their right. “VIP Critical Care rooms are on the second floor. Stairwell access over there.”

  The SEALs, moving like shadows, quickly left the waiting area to the dead.

  “Run and gun!” called out Cooper. He kicked the double doors open with a crash and charged through. Two North Korean soldiers were setting up firing positions behind an overturned gurney. Without hesitation, Cooper swung the M-79 grenade launcher from his back and fired. A split second after the phoomp of his pirate gun, the corridor exploded in light and smoke with a tremendous crash.

  Cooper charged into the smoke and stepped over the remains of the two North Korean rear-guards. He jogged down the shattered corridor toward the stairs, his Team hot on his heels. Sounds of a fierce firefight reverberated down the stairwell toward them.

  As they passed each door along the corridor, the forward SEALs paused to cover their teammates as they leap-frogged the rest. Every one of them was focused on the rooms they passed—some had patients laying in beds, wide-eyed in fear. Many more had bodies on the floor and bullet holes in walls and doors. It appeared the North Koreans were either randomly searching rooms or simply killing for sport. Either way, Cooper felt his anger rise.

  It was one thing for the cowardly bastards to have shot down his Team—they would pay dearly for that. But killing civilians—people in hospital beds? That was crossing a line. More than one room had a North Korean soldier in it trying to ambush the SEALs. Cooper’s wraiths dispatched each one with brutal efficiency.

  Cooper reached the stairs first and took the steps two at a time. He could hear some shouted words from the top landing and slowed down, carbine at his shoulder, eyes downrange. The sound of fighting grew louder with each step, bouncing off ceiling tiles and walls. Cooper poked his head above the landing. He held up his hand to halt the platoon. Charlie moved up next to him, silent as a ghost.

  The hallway beyond the stairs was dark with only one emergency light, hanging from a wire and swaying drunkenly. The corridor was strewn with bodies. Some were clearly patients, dressed in hospital gowns and still trailing IV lines from arms and wrists. Others were in scrubs and a few had white coats, stained with blood. The North Koreans had clearly moved down the corridor guns blazing and killed everyone in their path.

  The doors along the hallway had been forced open, some shot through, and debris and equipment was scattered everywhere. Cooper could hear the eerie, spine-tingling wails from multiple medical monitors shrilly calling for attention from dozens of rooms.

  Muzzle flashes accompanied by the deafening sound of gunfire in confined quarters at the end of the hallway painfully spli
t the darkness. Cooper flipped up his night-vision goggles and let his eyes adjust.

  When he could see again, Cooper found himself looking down a long hallway. About halfway down the hallway, at the junction of the main corridor to the left, was a large circular desk littered with computer monitors and phones. There were two North Koreans taking shelter behind the desk, shooting their rifles over the top of the bullet-ridden desk. The tactical lights on their weapons were lancing all over the place with their movements.

  “There’s the nurse’s station. Secret Service is down that left-hand corridor,” Cooper whispered to Charlie.

  Charlie gripped Cooper’s arm and pointed—on the other side of the nurse’s station a few flashlights winked with movement. Cooper could hear muffled shouting over the noise of the firefight. He squinted and could just barely see North Korean marines kicking down doors on the left side of the corridor. There looked to be at least twenty of them. When they didn’t come back out, he realized what was going down. Flashes and the sound of more gunfire. A few bodies in hospital gowns tumbled out into the hallway.

  The North Koreans are going to cut through those rooms...they’ll flank those Secret Service pukes if they can find a way to jump out down that left cooridor. Cooper had seen enough.

  He signaled to Charlie and pointed at the nurse’s station.

  Both men opened up their weapons and in an incredibly loud few seconds, the North Koreans hiding behind the circular desk were on the ground, painting the floor red. The rest of the SEALs then advanced up the stairs and moved down the hallway, finding no survivors.

  Cooper keyed his throat mic. “Secret Service, Striker 1 advancing on your position. Do not shoot, I say again, friendly forces turning the corner, your twelve o’clock!”

  He stepped to the corner and looked left, almost expecting to take a bullet in the face. Instead a flashlight beam pointed in his direction.

  “Thank God!” someone said in the smoke.

  “Charlie, go!” he said, pointing down the main hallway where the North Koreans had entered rooms and disappeared. Charlie instantly peeled off with his fireteam and vanished into the darkened corridor.

  “Direct your men that way,” said Cooper as he trotted toward the besieged Secret Service Agent. “You got at least ten NKors working through the rooms and advancing fast on your nine o’clock! They’re trying to flank you.” The Agents nodded and faced the doors on the left side of the hallway.

  Cooper, satisfied that the Agents were prepared, turned to his fireteam coming up fast behind him. “Spread out and anchor the line. Jax get in the center.”

  “Team 2 in position,” Charlie whispered, dead calm.

  Without a word, Mike pushed past and vaulted the make-shift barricade the agents had cobbled together. He raced on down the corridor toward the far end, watching the doors on the right side. Jax, right behind the smaller SEAL, shouldered past carrying his massive twenty pound M60 light machine gun. Swede scaled the barricade, dropped to a knee and covered the hallway, the smallish MP5 looked like a toy next to his large frame.

  “Everyone, reload and check weapons, they’re not done yet!” Cooper ordered to the half-dozen steely-eyed agents. A few Agents, dressed in battle load-outs, rummaged grim-faced through the gear still strapped to their fallen comrades. The odd thing in Cooper’s mind was they did not hesitate or question his authority at all. They recognized the wisdom of his order, stranger or not.

  “They’re going to come straight at us,” Cooper said quietly, “So get to the side of these doors here in front of you. Get ready…”

  They could hear some noise and shouts from the other side of the three doors on the right side of the hallway. “They’re almost through,” Cooper whispered. “Charlie, go on my mark.”

  The tiny bone phone in Cooper’s ear broke squelch twice: Charlie was ready. He shifted his carbine and raised it to his shoulder, waiting. The hallway was deathly quiet. Dust swirled in the air but was barely visible in the emergency light’s cone of illumination. Cooper’s vision, through his night-vision goggles, was bright as day, albeit green-tinted.

  The door directly across from Cooper suddenly flew open with a crash, propelled forward by a foot. The North Korean soldier coming through never got his foot back on the ground. He landed flat on his back with two rounds to the face. Two more men charged forward to take his place, screaming like banshees. The next two doors down the corridor were smashed open with similar results. The SEALs and Secret Service Agents easily dispatched the first targets to emerge.

  “Go, go, go!” yelled Cooper. Suddenly, Charlie’s fireteam, advancing through the rooms behind the North Koreans, opened up on their unprotected rear elements. The flanking maneuver was crippled before they had a chance to execute. The rooms lit up with the sounds of gunfire and screams, accompanied by staccato flashes of light. Above it all, the booming voice of Jax’s M60 reverberated down the corridor.

  Caught between Cooper and the agents in front of them and the meat grinder of Navy SEALs behind them, the North Korean squad was quickly dispatched into a bloody, quivering mess, adding to the already extensive carnage on the floor.

  A few of the agents whooped in victory but not a single SEAL showed any sign of celebration. Always on mission, Cooper was gratified to see, his men immediately secured the perimeter and prepared for the next wave.

  “Left flank secured,” reported Mike from down the hall.

  “Right flank secured,” said Swede, watching the nurse’s station at “T” intersection of corridors.

  “Center secured,” called out Jax.

  “Friendlies coming in, hold your fire!” a voice yelled from inside one of the rooms used by the North Koreans in their ill-fated flanking maneuver.

  “Hold your fire,” called out Cooper. “That’s my men coming in.” Four shadows silently moved through the butchery in the rooms in front of the defenders and emerged, scanning for threats, weapons up.

  Cooper disengaged his night-vision goggles and stood, stretching his knee. The damn brace squeaked and he winced. “Mike, check the wounded. I don’t want any surprises.”

  “On it,” replied Mike from down the corridor. He stood and methodically checked each body on the floor for a pulse. The third one he checked was alive. Without hesitation, he pulled his dive knife and plunged the 8” darkened blade into the soldier’s chest. The man stiffened and gurgled, a bubble of blood forming at his mouth. After the body relaxed, Mike twisted the blade and with a savage motion, ripped it free from the corpse. He moved to the next North Korean casualty in a low crouch and checked for a pulse.

  “Jesus!” one of the wounded agents said, nursing a bandaged arm and propped against the wall. “What the hell was that for? That guy was half-dead already…”

  “Well, now he’s full-dead,” was Mike’s grim reply. He crouched next to another body and checked it. “Chief said ‘No surprises’. Only way we’ll be surprised now is if these assholes turn into zombies.” He grinned, his teeth white against a sweat streaked, grimy face and moved on.

  “I’m Sheffield, head of the President’s detail,” said the agent with the flashlight. Agent Sheffield looked back down the hallway where the partially destroyed nurse’s station sat in silence. He gestured at a North Korean body. “You guys sure know how to make an entrance.”

  “Master Chief Braaten,” said Cooper. He scanned the battle-scene and was rather impressed by what he saw. The handful of agents had held off a vastly superior force, judging by the numbers of bodies crumpled along the corridors in every direction. “Looks like you and your men put up a helluva fight.”

  Sheffield grunted then blew out his breath and winced in pain. “We sure that’s the last of ‘em? Don’t have much ammo left.”

  Cooper nodded. “Slipknot?”

  Agent Sheffield looked at Cooper, as if deciding whether he could reveal such information. He smiled and wiped the blood from his cheek with the back of a grime-covered hand. “Not here. We’re the front line. We’ve
got him in the basement in a makeshift ICU with a few doctors and the rest of my team. We wanted to draw their attention up here to the Critical Ward until we could get him out of the hospital.”

  “Is he alive?” asked Cooper, switching magazines on his weapon.

  “Yeah, but he contracted that super-flu that’s going around. He’s in bad shape.”

  “Shit.” Cooper looked around the demolished corridor leading to the bullet-riddled nurse’s station at the “T”.

  “This is no bueno, man. We gotta move. Can you get your wounded on their feet? We need to regroup with the others and get Slipknot out of here—like, yesterday.”

  “Something to do with the explosions we heard? Our comms went dead a while back and we haven’t heard from anyone till you guys showed up and tore through these assholes like Sherman through Atlanta,” said the President’s chief bodyguard as he helped another agent to his feet.

  “Those weren’t just explosions. Fuckin’ missiles from offshore, hell maybe from orbit or something,” Cooper said. “We spotted at least one jet doing ground-attack runs. We lost comms just before we got here.”

  Cooper paused. When he spoke next it was in a quiet voice. “Walked into a damn trap and lost half my men.” He stared right at the SAC and added, “Last thing we heard was Apache Dawn has been activated.”

  The agent paled, noticeable even in the dim, murky light. “Oh my God.” He turned to his men. “Apache Dawn is in effect! We have to get Slipknot and evacuate now!” Turning back to Cooper, he said, “Follow me, I’ll get us down to the basement.” The agents kicked themselves into gear rushing to collect what weapons and ammo they could find before gathering up their wounded.

  “I got our six,” said Charlie. “Sparky, on me!”

  “Take ‘em out,” said Cooper to Agent Sheffield with a brief nod. He backed up against the wall as Agent Sheffield limped past. The remaining agents and SEALs followed closely queued-up behind Cooper. Charlie and Sparky took up trailing positions, walking backwards and scanning for threats from the rear.