by Kate Morris
He spots Cory first, ducked down behind a tall, bronze statue of a horse. It looks like something that would ricochet if struck by a bullet. It’s probably not the best hiding spot, but he doesn’t point that out as he joins him.
“I think the place is on fire somewhere,” Simon tells John. “The loggia floor was filling with smoke.”
“Got it,” John says. “Let’s make this fast. Ready?”
Simon gives a firm nod as he raises his night-vision goggles. Then they are rising together and moving forward and up the stairs. John signals for Cory and him to head to their right while he will take the others and go down the hall to the left. Simon doesn’t know what awaits either group but is anxious to finish this. He has taken many lives tonight, more than he wants to contemplate, but the night is far from over.
Voices and the scrambling of feet at the end of the hall cause a hyper alertness to course through him. Someone runs into the hallway from a room to their right and just ahead of them maybe thirty feet. Cory takes him down. The man screams just briefly before becoming silent and still.
They walk toward that room, and Simon’s almost positive that there are people in it and the one directly across the hall from it. Cory signals him that they’ll use flashbang grenades in both. He hands him one, and Simon pulls the pin. He presses his back against the wall and watches Cory line up against his own across from him and count it down mouthing three, two, and a nod. They both toss their grenades in, wait for them to make a loud bang with smoke, and immediately push into their respective rooms. Simon quickly takes out two people, shoots another in the hip, and a fourth in the shoulder. At least six people rush from the room through a door in the rear as he’s killing their fellow highwaymen and closing in on them. They manage to escape.
Across the hall from him, Cory is finishing, as well, and joins him. Simon signals they should go through the doors and holds up six fingers. Cory nods, knowing what he is telling him. They must stalk after those who have escaped. Outside, a mortar round or something similar has gone off. It feels like they are in the middle of World War Three in this stately mansion.
As he passes a tall window, Simon notices that it is broken, and a sniper style rifle rests on the floor beside it. The dead body of its prior owner is also there. He must’ve been trying to snipe people from this high spot and was shot. Simon didn’t do it, but perhaps Lucky did. They were both doing a lot of moving around into new positions high and low outside.
They pause a moment before entering the next room. Cory nods to him, and Simon returns it before they breach the doorway only to find the room empty already. Simon scans the room looking for an exit but doesn’t find one. However, a tiny flicker of yellow light glows from under the bookcase. Simon inspects it closer, pushes against it and realizes that it isn’t just a bookcase because it presses inward on hinges through the use of a wheeling mechanism underneath. A secret passage through a bookcase is how they’ve escaped.
“Over here,” he whispers to Cory with urgency, and his friend joins him. Cory’s left eyebrow raises.
Once they enter, Simon notices that the walls are solid limestone, there is no electricity or lanterns hanging conveniently on the walls, and the passage is claustrophobically narrow. The dim amount of light is coming from the other end of the passageway. It all gives him an uneasy feeling like he could be trapped if they ambush them.
“Watch for secret passageways behind the bookcases,” Cory warns the others through his mic.
“Roger that,” John says.
They proceed slowly and carefully down the dark corridor, and Simon pulls his goggles back down as the light from the room behind them grows dimmer and dimmer. Cory leads, and Simon brings up the rear while continually checking the doorway at his back. At the end of the hall, they turn left and discover a set of stone stairs going down. They take the stairs and turn right at the bottom, the only way to go, then dead-end at another set of stairs going back up. A light at the top and the sound of men’s voices let them know they are on the right path.
Ascending slowly and with growing nerves, Simon follows as his friend makes it to the top. There are definitely men on the other side of the half-open door, and they sound very close. They also sound panicked. There is only one way to handle this one since Cory is out of grenades.
Simon counts it down again, and they swing inside and blast away. Their enemy returns fire, but they manage to shoot and kill quite a few of them. He and Cory push further into the room taking low-crouching positions. There is a haze of smoke that makes it slightly harder to see, probably coming from the fireplace that looks like it is lit but not doing well and is mostly smoldering. There is a mound of paperwork and folders in the fireplace on top of the logs. It reminds him of something he’d seen once in a movie about spies who’d dumped all of their files on the fire to prevent the enemy from looking at them. Strange.
Someone runs into the room firing away on a pistol, and Cory puts him down with a shot to the forehead. But not before a round hits Simon square in the chest knocking him into the wall behind him. He stumbles and falls onto a bedside table since they are in a bedroom. He takes down the lamp and whatever else is on the stand along with the stand itself. Cory pushes on and finishes off the rest of their enemy as Simon tries to breathe. Then his friend is beside him on one knee.
“You ok, man?” Cory shouts and tugs hard at Simon’s Kevlar vest until he is sitting upright again.
He tries to answer but can’t. The Kevlar protected him, the man who shot him seemed to have been shooting a .38 revolver, but he still can’t catch his breath. His chest feels tight like he would imagine it would feel if he had asthma.
“Just breathe, brother,” Cory says in a quieter tone. “Breathe, Simon. Slowly. That’s it. Just simple in and out, man. You got this.”
He nods and feels the air coming back into his lungs. It is thin, but Simon grabs Cory’s arm and tugs to signal he wants back on his feet. His friend hauls him up. Then he grabs Simon’s rifle from the ground and hands it to him.
“Got it?” Cory asks unsurely.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got it. I’m good.”
Cory says, “Ready to move again?”
“Wait,” Simon says when his friend turns. “Did you get shot?” A thin trickle of blood is running down his bare forearm.
“Just a scratch from earlier. It’s nothing. Let’s keep going. There’s a door over there.”
He points and walks that way. Simon follows and glances behind them at the carnage they’ve caused.
“None of them has on Kevlar like us. They did before when we fought them.”
“I know. I think we surprised them. I killed a couple outside who were wearing it, but most aren’t. Oh, well. Makes it easier on us.”
“No doubt,” Simon agrees. “Where are we going?”
“We’re parallel to you, Dr. Death, in some bedrooms,” Cory says into his mic.
“Roger that,” John answers right away.
He and Cory clear two more rooms as the constant tapping of rounds go off from wherever John is fighting with the others.
“Tag me in, Dr. Death,” Dave jokes. “We’re here. You’re saved, girls.”
Cory chuckles behind him as Simon goes down another hall and pauses at the end before turning to the left. There is a series of bedrooms or maybe even bathrooms, too. He peers around the corner and keeps going. A man runs across the aisle at the other end of the long hallway.
“Damn it,” Simon hisses angrily because the sprinter is too quick for Simon to get off a round.
Cory enters ahead of him into another drawing room of sorts and takes out a man holding a crossbow.
“Was he fuckin’ serious with that shit?” Cory asks him and laughs as they keep going.
Simon scowls. This is no time to be making jokes. He is too focused on getting out of this alive and keeping his friends that way to joke around.
A room across the hall sounds occupied, so they proceed cautiously. When they s
neak around the corner and into it, they startle three women who are trying to pack their belongings into suitcases. A few others scream and scramble to the nearest corner. They all six immediately stop what they’re doing and raise their hands.
“Don’t shoot! Please!” one cries. “We’re unarmed.”
“Are you them?” another interrupts, closing her eyes as if to shield her mind from the bullet she knows is coming.
Cory asks her, “Them?”
“The ones Gabriella told us about,” she answers. “The ones who were gonna free us from this hell. The McClanes?”
Simon glances around quickly. There are women’s articles hanging on lines, bras, shirts, socks, and pants. There is a single box of canned goods near his feet, and a lantern lit near one of the dirty mattresses on the floor. There are six women and only three mattresses, twin-sized. None of them look to be well-fed or cared for.
Simon reaches over and quickly touches Cory’s shoulder as he raises his gun to it. His friend looks at him confusedly, and Simon shakes his head with disapproval. Shooting women who are shooting at them is one thing. None of these women are even armed. They all appear frightened and abused. His friend does not look like he believes that.
Cory reluctantly nods and lowers his rifle and says. “Get outta here. Leave all your shit. The place is on fire.”
It takes about two seconds before all six have cleared the room.
“Sending out six women,” Simon tells the others through his mic. “Do not shoot. They are unarmed.”
“Roger that,” Dave answers. “Team three to intercept.”
Simon feels better knowing that someone will meet up with them and get the women away from the mansion safely, or hopefully safely. With the women gone, they proceed to clear each room until they have a final man cornered.
“Don’t shoot me! Don’t shoot!” he screams in fear.
His weapon is held up in surrender.
“Where is the senator?” Cory barks angrily.
“He’s in the secret wing,” he answers very readily.
“Where?” Cory repeats.
“Through the bookcase in the red bedroom,” he tells them.
Cory looks at Simon with a frown. “Come on. Show me. Now!”
The man drops his pistol and leads them through the door. Then he veers right and goes into a reading nook at the end of a hall where a stand with a Tiffany stained-glass lamp rests forever unlit, and a padded seating area is built into floor-to-ceiling bookcases on all three walls. It is cozy, tucked away in such a private, small area. It is a dead-end, six-foot hallway with ornate gold wallpaper on the ceiling that looks like something from a hundred years ago. He knows that they’ve already passed this alcove. The man presses on the bookcase on the right wall, and it pushes inward like the one they’d gone through in the other bedroom. It opens into another secret passageway.
“Where?” Cory repeats.
“Down there. It’s a dead-end. On the other side of it is the senator’s secret chambers. It’s where he meets with the president.”
“Who the fuck is this president?”
The man stammers with fear at Cory’s harsh tone, “I…I don’t know. Only a few have seen him. I was just one of the scavengers.”
Simon knows this means he went on runs. This man has taken from innocent people and killed them. In his current state of hysteria, he is not such a threat, but he’s quite sure many people cowered in front of him just like this at one time.
“How many guards are gonna be with him?”
“I don’t know…” the man stammers.
Cory shoots him in the chest with a single shot, and he flies backward into the opposite wall. The ceiling is much lower in this passageway, but the walls are wider. They move quickly this time, not wasting precious time in finding the leader of this insanity. When they come to the door that will lead to the bedroom, Cory pauses a moment so they can they listen. Nothing. They don’t hear anything at all, so he opens it slowly. Simon cringes as it squeaks. As they cross the threshold, he catches a flash of movement in the dark as someone scurries away.
The room is huge, obviously meant for the master of the home. A large bed rests on a dais at one end of the room and at the other are wall to wall, built-in bookcases, and a stone fireplace. It is also definitely a safe room since it is hidden and not even labeled on the maps or blueprint of the home. There is another door he sees when he puts down his goggles again. He taps Cory and points. They rush over to it and pause again.
“Go, sir, go!” someone yells in the hallway in front of them.
Simon takes him out, the target an easy hit at only sixty feet. Whoever else is with him is gone, but he can hear the pattering of feet going down stone stairs.
“Let’s go!” Cory asserts and begins jogging.
The corridor is empty, solid limestone again and does not appear to connect with any of the other bedrooms or rooms on the third floor. When they come to the wall at the end of the hall, there is a set of stairs, steep stairs. A group of three men is trying to rush down them. He shoots one, and his friend takes out the other two.
“Hurry, Simon,” he says. “We need to catch that rat bastard before he gets away.”
Once they reach the ground floor, they come to a thick old door. They are only a second too late because he hears someone on the other side of the door lock it, so that he and Cory can’t get through. Cory looks at him and nods. They both raise their booted feet and kick simultaneously four times until it crashes open. Simon catches sight of more men running toward the back doors. Simon takes a fast aim and hits one in the back of the skull. The others flee out through double doors. By the time they reach the doors, the men are gone, racing across the side lawn and leaping into vehicles.
“Damn it!” Cory curses as they speed away, peeling out on the blacktop.
“Three vehicles,” Simon relays into his mic. “Headed…north. Need assistance. I repeat, need assistance. HVT number one is getting away, over.”
Derek comes over the radio a second later and replies in a calm tone, “I see them, Professor. They’re going for a dirt road, a path they’ve worn. Someone needs to get on that. They’re going to escape onto a trail. I’ve got them. They’re ditching the vehicles, over.”
“Give me a location, Derek,” Cory orders impatiently, grabbing the radio from him. “Come on, Simon.”
He follows his friend without question jogging along the backside of the property until they come to a vehicle.
“They’re getting on motorcycles or ATV’s. Going to use the sculpture trail to get away,” Derek tells them.
“Where’s it come out, base command, over?” Cory asks as he gets into a flashy red hotrod. “Get in!”
“They’re gonna come out south of you. Past the west gardens,” Derek says and pauses. “Circle the main structure and head toward K-Dog’s post on the road. You’ll have to head them off south of there. Take the first road to the right, over.”
“Got it,” Cory answers, fires up the car with the loud engine and jams it into gear. It’s a stick shift, and his friend is quite adept with them. This may have been one of the used car salesman’s personal vehicles since it is a fully restored classic worth a lot of money, or it was at one time.
They fly over the grass, throwing up dirt and mud behind them, and zip around to the front of the mansion. Simon can see smoke coming out of several of the tall windows. He hopes the family is almost done in there. It is going to become dangerous very soon.
“I’ve got eyes on you now, Cory,” Derek tells them. “Go past the botanical garden building and come out on Forest Park Drive, over.”
“Keep an eye out, Simon,” Cory orders.
“I am,” he answers as his friend speeds. “There! There’s the exit.”
Cory yanks hard on the wheel, and they slide to the side and make the turn. With all four wheels on a paved road, his friend picks up speed.
“We’re in pursuit with you, brother,” Kelly states.
He’s not sure where Kelly was when the message went out from them that the senator was escaping, but Simon is glad he’s coming along. Two seconds later, there are headlights behind them.
Cory takes a hard right, barely braking, and slams the car into high gear again. He swerves recklessly around a parked car and speeds up.
“You’re just about to meet up with them,” Derek states. “Slow your speed, or you’ll pass them before they come onto the road with you, over.”
Cory hits the brakes and slows down.
“There they are!” Simon yells and points through the windshield.
Cory slows down even more and lets them race onto the road ahead of them.
“Professor,” he says calmly.
Simon knows what he wants. He already has the window down, has crawled half out of it and is sitting on the door frame. Bringing up his rifle, he places a shot strategically into the back of the first driver, which causes him to veer dangerously as the all-terrain vehicle pops up onto the berm of the road. It causes the others to crash into his ATV. Bodies go flying, and so do their ATV’s and one dirt bike and two motorcycles. Cory brings the car to a sliding stop doing a one-eighty and exits in one smooth motion. Simon crawls out of the window the rest of the way and uses the vehicle’s hood to sight in on the enemy. Cory doesn’t use such caution; he fires off rounds killing people and moving forward on foot.
“Stop! We surrender! Stop shooting!” someone calls out.
They were not offered this option tonight. They never offered this option to their victims, either, so he and Cory fight it out with them. Even Kelly and K-Dog stalk forward and take out a few. Everyone knows what the senator looks like, and it is not difficult to find him when it’s over and they are walking through the dead bodies. However, he is dead, too, his neck broken from wrecking his ATV, having never been shot even once. Some small part of Simon feels let down by this. The man ordered the murder of hundreds of people, abused and enslaved others, and destroyed lives. He deserved to suffer a little for what he did.
