Another hour went by, and the sun started to creep into the horizon. His snipers should be in place by now. He felt good to have them there; he trusted them and both owed their lives to him.
He willed himself to be calm, and went over and over the variables. He finally admitted two things to himself; one, he had no intention of allowing this pack of bastards and their psycho leader to live, and two, he realised all the people with him trusted their own lives and that of the prisoners on his ability to wing it.
He looked at Neil, who looked as anxious as he felt inside. "We doing this?" He asked.
"Ten minutes" he replied, looking at the first rays of sun in the distance.
Ten minutes came and went in silence. Dan started the engine.
Neil quietly recited some part of a speech from Gladiator, before winking and climbing out. Noises from the back and a gentle double thump on the thin bulkhead between them let him know that he was ready.
"Show time" he said quietly to himself before setting off with his lights on full beam.
MAKE IT RAIN
He arrived at the camp in a few minutes, seeing a dirty multi-coloured replica of Leah's white model. He rolled in slowly, saying through the bulkhead to Neil "thirty seconds!"
The muffled reply of "Roger" came back with a jaunty roll of the letter R.
Dan drove closer, just as the sun was up over his left shoulder. He saw a flurry of movement in top of the curious array of shipping containers then, as the low building to his right came into view, he skewed the nose of the land rover to the left to give Neil a better arc of fire.
He got out of the vehicle, wearing clothes that made him not look like himself; he had grey trousers on and a bright coloured t-shirt scavenged from the camping shop months ago.
He called a "hello" to the visible guard, and received a string of obscene abuse back. He tried the idiot approach, which annoyed him that people always found believable, and tried again.
Just his luck; Bronson was awake.
Dan was thrown for an instant. He recovered in time to assess the big man walking towards him. He had the inescapable look of an ex-pro heavyweight boxer, and hands big enough to choke the life out of a grown man.
He was intimidating before he saw him, but now Dan was properly scared and considered ordering his troops to open up immediately.
He gathered his nerves, and tried to play the idiot for a little while longer.
"Hello there!" He said cheerfully with a faked speech impediment "haven't seen anyone in days now. I'm Eric" he said, offering a hand. He didn't look like an Eric, and Bronson didn't accept the hand.
"What do you want, little man?" he growled. Not many people could say that to him with any degree of accuracy, but Bronson was right. The man was a monster.
Every second he waited, the sun climbed higher in the sky making the targets easier for his team. It also gave time for the other enemies inside to get organised. He decided to speed things along.
"I've heard you have people in there. I'd like to take them off your hands" he said, knowing that without the snipers and Neil he had just signed his own, and likely very painful, death warrant.
"You want to take them do you?" Bronson said in a voice dripping with dangerous menace.
"Then fucking take them, runt. Right now, or call for the fucking cavalry to come and save your arse because I will rip you to pieces"
"Ok, but I want you to bring your people out to watch me beat you. Fair fight, you and me" Dan replied, feigning a confidence he didn’t possess in the slightest.
Bronson smiled at him. "You!" He shouted as he turned and pointed at a half drunk guard. "Everyone out here, now" he yelled, turning back to Dan with a smile.
Dan began some ludicrous looking stretches, and bounced on the spot like he was preparing for some Victorian bout. He killed maybe a half minute by doing this, hoping to get all the targets out into the killing ground.
As more men began to emerge from the building, Bronson could wait no longer and advanced to get his breakfast.
"I warn you, I'm armed!" Dan said suddenly, showing a demented smile, then pointed his finger at the beast like he held and imaginary gun.
Bronson stared at his finger for a second, looked at him directly and roared with laughter.
Steve lay prone, the crosshairs of his rifle’s sight resting dead-centre on the huge man stood in front of his friend. Dan wasn’t a big man, but he certainly wasn’t small and he had a presence which couldn’t be ignored. In his current company however, Dan was dwarfed. He watched intently, keeping his breathing slow and regulated as the monster suddenly laughed at Dan pointing his imaginary gun.
The corner of Steve’s mouth curled slightly in smile before he let out his breath, held it again, and squeezed the trigger with the crosshairs still on Bronson’s chest.
The impact rocked him, but miraculously he stayed on his feet. His mouth opened and closed twice, before he slowly turned and fell exposing the gaping hole in his back.
Bronson was dead; now for the rest of the snake.
Dan dived behind the Defender, going low for the opposite door to retrieve his equipment. Simultaneously, he heard the crack of Steve's first round, followed quickly by the zipping sounds of more bullets homing in on their targets. All he heard was zip, crack, zip, crack until a roar of challenge erupted from the back of his vehicle.
Neil heard the exchange. He heard the zip, followed by the sickening impact, then the report of the rifle reached his ears. He unclipped the last rubber straps holding the back down, then heaved the pole up and over to reveal his weapon. He roared as he did so, flung the heavy metal lid away and racked the long bolt of the gun with his left hand.
"I am the cavalry, bitches!" He yelled, then fired his first burst into three watery eyed enforcers running from the building.
Dan forced himself to be calm. Methodical. Without his kit, he was a hindrance. He pulled on his vest, tightened it, and then picked up his carbine. His mags were fully loaded, and he had a lucky bullet in the pipe ready.
He flicked the catch to automatic and ran away from the vehicle as he used it for cover. He climbed aboard the large crane sitting a few metres away, then ran up the extended arm to get on top of the containers. He dropped to one knee, and fired a series of short bursts at the confused guards who were stood exposed. One of these was winged; clipped in the upper arm. He spun almost gracefully, and fell the fifteen feet into the prison pen where he landed on his back with a thud. Dan fired three more bursts, once seeing his target snatched out of his scope as Lexi's - he assumed hers from the angle of the shot - bullet took him straight through the lower back and felled him instantly. He could hear the steady rhythm of carefully aimed shots coming from the snipers, interspersed with Neil's short bursts so as not to overheat the gun and risk a jam. He swore he could hear laughing from somewhere.
He moved along taking advantage of the top cover, before the shooting stopped.
Dan had to clear the building fast, before any slackers had the chance to organise themselves. He seated a fresh magazine and racked the gun, then turned the torch on to full, which was blinding in close quarters even in full daylight. He quickly went room to room, finding nothing until he reached the back of the building. He kicked open a door and advanced, seeing a man pull a girl to her feet by her hair. She couldn't have been much older than Leah. He started to issue a poorly planned threat to make this murderous intruder leave him alone, and died with four bullets in his head and neck.
Dan moved on, slinging the M4 on his back and drawing the stubby shotgun over his right shoulder as the stairwell was too tight for the carbine. He took the stairs quickly, bizarrely thinking how many times he would have heard 'BANG' clearing a house this fast before.
Fuck the lot of them; new manual. Speed was the key here.
The top of the stairs was suddenly filled with a man throwing a bomber jacket on before he froze seeing Dan. The man's blood sprayed on his face as his chest exploded from the heav
y shot which sent his body flying backwards to tangle the legs of another running along the corridor. Dan almost fired again, but recognised the body shape of a young woman just in time.
He switched back to the M4 and cleared five other rooms, in the last being faced with what should be a difficult situation of a surrendering man.
One in the chest, one in the head.
He checked each room again, and found three women coming out from their hiding places.
He went back to the front door, and tied a red strip of cloth from his pocket onto the end of his hot carbine. The agreed signal for "It's me, please don't shoot me in the bloody head"
Neil called out to him, saying it was safe. He came out slowly, holding the rag high as he stepped through a pile of broken bodies in front of Neil's smoking barrel.
He turned to where the snipers would be and gave a thumbs up; the agreed signal for "Clear; stay on post and shoot anything unfriendly"
He safetied his weapons and went to Neil.
"Twelve!" Neil said, slapping the big gun and instantly regretting it for the mild burn.
"Three up there" he replied, pointing to the containers and trying not to think that they were bragging about ending human lives. He considered this for a second, and imagined that the girls inside probably weren't there by choice. "Four inside. One point blank with the SPAS" he finished.
Neil made a pained sucking sound, before delivering an extremely camp, "nasty pasty".
He climbed into the bullet holed driver’s door, and found that of the few shots returned at them, only one had done serious damage. The radio was destroyed.
WHAT WERE YOU EXPECTING ….. GRATITUDE?
Neil offered to walk back to get the coach, but Dan told him to drive the Land Rover.
"Go steady" he warned, knowing that he would be full of adrenaline still.
He walked amongst the piled bodies, thrown down in grotesque poses by the heavy bullets. Now he had seen for himself what they had been doing he felt no remorse for attacking them, nor even for ambushing them as they had.
He saw that some carried weapons; bats and knives, a pickaxe handle, even a whip. These were slavers, not survivors. They were dressed and equipped more for taking on a zombie horde than anything else. They weren’t survivors; they were tyrants.
He stopped above Bronson's shattered body and marvelled again at the size of the man. He probably would have been capable of ripping him to pieces.
He collected a few shotguns from the scattered bodies and three handguns from Bronson and another now unrecognisable man, thanks to the bullet in his face, checking their pockets for spare ammo. None of the other weapons were much good, and those he had were filthy and pitted through a lack of proper maintenance.
Movement in the doorway made him raise the carbine, and showed two girls in their teens huddled together. They stared at him with red eyes, waiting to see if he were to be their next master. As if to indicate that they would not resist him, one of them slipped the shoulder of her dirty top down to show the skin.
Dan nearly flipped, striding over to them with his weapons out of his hands.
"You don't need to do that. Ever again, not unless you choose to" the girls looked blankly at him. He gave up.
He stowed the revolvers he had recovered in his pockets, and looked at the semi-automatic as it didn't feel right. He dropped the magazine to find it filled with little yellow plastic balls.
The bastard had been terrorising these people using a BB gun.
A low groan came from a body to his right. Conscious that he was being watched, he put his back to the building and drew his knife without making a show of it. He found the man, a boy really, with two bullet wounds in his abdomen. Neither had hit anything vital, but he was assured of a long death as he bled out in agony. Dan pushed the knife into the side of his neck, twisted it a quarter turn allowing the blood to gush out to the ground, then removed the blade and cleaned it on his clothes.
As subtle as he had been about it, the two girls in the doorway had seen what he did. Neither showed any reaction as they were joined by another woman. Based on her lack of clothing, Dan guessed that she was the one he nearly cut in two at the top of the stairs.
He decided he should address the sounds of excited talking from inside the pen of containers. He climbed the crane again, standing on top of the containers. The sun was higher now, and the murmuring sound swelled as he stood in sight of them. He waited for a question to be asked of him, then remembered that these people had been punished for speaking up before. He would have to say something.
"I come from a group of survivors. We do not keep prisoners. Everyone has a say. Everyone is protected. Everyone is fed properly. We rescued two people and learned of this place, so we came to set you free"
Over sixty eyes were glued to him, but nobody said a word. He could hear engines coming and glanced behind to double check it was Neil and Ian. He saw the coach first, then the land rover in front as they crested the rise to approach him downhill.
He turned back to the dishevelled people in their pen.
"We have medical care waiting at home, and everyone is invited to join us. You would not be a prisoner there; we offer our help"
He was growing concerned that they all just stared at him, and turned to jump down before a small voice reached him.
"Did you kill them?" a woman asked.
"Yes" Dan said after a brief pause.
The woman's face dropped, her head and shoulders followed. Others seemed to take this news badly too, but the majority rejoiced.
He dropped down to see Neil coming forward ahead of the coach.
Dan approached him as he stopped.
"Think you can work that?" He asked, pointing at the crane.
"No, but I can probably drag one of these back instead" he said as he indicated the shipping containers in front of him. He went to find a chain.
Ian pulled up and maneuvered the coach into position like it was some aid mission to refugees. He supposed it was, in a way. He poked his head into the coach, climbing the first few stairs. Both James and Ed looked sick, whether that was from the bodies they stared at or being back in this place he couldn't say. They hadn't wasted their time; each seat of the coach had a blanket, bottle of water and energy bar and other snacks on.
Neil was rigging the chain he found at the crane to the towing hitch of his vehicle, having secured it to the corner of a container. He planned to drag it back at an angle which would put it flush against the one next to it and leave a gap where they could file out towards the coach.
Dan gave him the nod and the tyres bit into the rough concrete, hunkering the truck down on its springs. The container inched along, making a painful noise as it ground backwards leaving deep scores.
The gap opened enough for a person to get out, but nobody came. Wider still, enough for two and still nobody ran from their prison. Dan waved Neil to stop, then walked into the circular compound. Everywhere people hid, as others stood still in the open. He realised these people were more damaged than he expected.
"It’s not a trick" he yelled at them "you are free and we are offering you shelter, food, medicine and protection" A few nervous people shuffled on their feet, before James and Ed came into view. People recognised them and another ripple of low talk went round.
James ran in, heading straight for a container and shouting a girl's name as he went. He came back out into the growing light, leading a young woman. The migration started slowly, as people followed those led by James and Ed. Then people jostled for position at the gap. He saw three people run as soon as they were out in the open.
He knew they didn't trust him, so he did not try to stop them. Good luck to them, he thought. He watched the girl James was leading as she stood over the broken body of Bronson, pure hatred in her eyes. She spat in his lifeless face.
People brought what meagre possessions they had, and filed onto the coach one by one. Some talked, most were silent. Dan walked around their prison,
seeing the way they had been forced to live. He eventually set his eyes on the guard he had wounded and knocked into the pen. His head had been bashed in and was almost completely flat. What was most worrying though, was the empty holster at his waist.
HUMANITARIAN AID
Dan told the others about the missing gun. It concerned him deeply. He remembered training for hostage scenarios, where the hostage takers would hide themselves as victims. He had a terrible feeling that there was a wasp amongst the flies.
He walked along the coach, wanting to draw the Sig and search each person. They tore hungrily into the water and snacks, barely giving him a glance. Those who did look at him had eyes full of suspicion.
He didn't have time for this; their one-sided gun battle would have been audible for miles around.
"We've got to get moving" he said as he strode to the front.
He had to trust that everyone knew what to do, and led the coach back up the road past where they had waited. Joe had set up at the rendezvous point already. He watched the road ahead, as Neil got back on the big gun watching behind.
Dan walked along the aisle of the coach again, looking for any subtle hint that any of the passengers were hiding something. Like a gun.
It was useless; they all looked edgy and all but a few gave him looks that made him feel sick. They were waiting to see what tortures lay in wait from their new captors.
One man had the courage to speak up. "Where are you taking us?" He asked.
Dan spoke loudly for the benefit of the others.
"We're taking you to our home. You can have a hot shower, clean clothes and a warm bed. You'll have medical care and a proper meal"
Some regarded this news as too good to be true, and the mistrust was plain on their faces.
"What do we have to do?" Asked a woman.
"Nothing" said Dan "I hope you will want to stay and be a part of the group, but I promise you that you will not be captives. If you want to stay you can find work to do, but you should all gather your strength and get better first"
Humanity: After It Happened Book 2 Page 13
