by Mark Goodwin
Danny couldn’t find the right words so he just blurted out what he was thinking. “Jack, your mom and your sister need a man around the house. It’s not fair for them to lose every last one of you.”
Danny began stuffing the reloaded magazines back into the front of his tactical vest. “If we have to retreat, I need you three outside to give us cover.”
Dana glowered. “Danny, you’ve got a baby on the way. You should let me go in with Antoine and Chris.”
“Out of the question. The teams are set. No more changes.” Danny had filled all the pouches in his vest. He placed the remaining three magazines in his assault backpack. He removed the grenades from Ben’s pack and distributed them, allotting two for Antoine, two for Chris, and three for himself.
“Ready to roll out?” Lucas asked.
“Let’s get this over with.” Danny figured he’d be reunited with Catfish soon enough.
Ben’s platoon led the charge with Lucas’ behind him and Danny’s squad working as the rear guard. Danny and Antoine were at the very tail of the company, watching for an assault from the rear. Once again, they tromped through the heavy brush for more than a mile. The running back and forth was burning a lot of calories. If he managed to not die, Danny would be extremely hungry by the time the assault was done.
The company of troops slowed as they drew closer to Schlusser’s house. Danny peered all through the darkness watching for an ambush or enemy scouts in the woods. Lucas and Ben’s platoons got into position and waited for Danny’s squad to move up the river bank and get on the other side of the house so as not to be caught in the crossfire. Danny led the way to the tree line where his team could watch and wait.
Seconds later, the assault commenced on the south side of Schlusser’s villa. Rifle fire exploded, filling the air with the flashes and clamor of battle and the smell of gunpowder. Adrenaline coursed through Danny’s veins. He was ready to make his run at the house, but he had to wait ninety seconds for all the available guards to be called to the south side of the house.
Danny retrieved the crowbar from his backpack. “Antoine, have a grenade ready to toss as soon as you see anyone. Chris, you cover us with rifle fire.” Danny looked at Gwen, Jack, and Dana. Don’t shoot until you see us coming. Not even if you have a clean shot. You’ll give away your position, and we will have no cover when we have to retreat.”
“Got it!” Jack whispered loudly.
Danny squatted back on his leg, rifle slung across his back and both hands on the ground, one holding the crowbar. He prepared to spring into action like an Olympic runner or a frightened rabbit. He looked at Antoine and Chris, who both gave him an affirmative nod. Danny shot out of the shadow of the woods and darted toward the side door. Antoine and Chris were close behind him. He peered through the glass in the door. No one was around. He checked the door knob. It was locked. “Here it goes.”
Danny stuck the crook of the crowbar into the glass, shattering it inside. He reached in and quickly unlocked the dead bolt and the lock on the knob. He flung the door open, and the three men rushed inside of a room that had been a large study or an office. Danny quickly exchanged the crowbar for his rifle and led the way to the corner of the next room. They entered a great area with a large sectional and two recliners. A series of oil lanterns illuminated the space. Playing cards sat on the coffee table, as well as a third of a bottle of whiskey, and an ashtray with a cigarette, which was still burning. Danny led his team through the room and around the sectional. He could hear the voices of men coming from beyond the doorway.
Candlelight flickered from what Danny guessed was the kitchen or dining room. The moving light cast ever-changing shadows of the men inside, against the hallway wall. Danny pointed at the grenade in Antoine’s hand, then motioned toward the wavering images projected by the candlelight.
Danny drew out a grenade for himself, then held up three fingers to Antoine, lowering first his ring finger, then his middle. Lastly, Danny lowered his index finger and nodded. Antoine pulled the pin, then gently rolled the grenade like a bowling ball toward the source of the dancing shadows. Knowing that drywall was feeble cover for an exploding grenade, Danny led the other two men in jumping over the sectional and rolling onto the floor. The house shook, and the walls rattled as the device detonated. Danny lost no time in scrambling to his feet and rushing toward the next room. It was indeed the kitchen, and it was a mess, like a great food fight had taken place involving spaghetti, meatballs, with lots and lots of sauce. However, the wailing man with one eye and the skin peeled back from his face lying at Danny’s foot reminded him that it was not tomato sauce which had been broadcast all about the walls, and it wasn’t meatballs clinging to the ceiling. It was human flesh and blood. The man gurgled, the side of his jaw missing so that Danny could see his molars. He reached out with a quivering hand to touch Danny’s boot. Danny’s stomach flipped, and he gagged. He lowered his AK-47 toward the man’s half-covered scalp, squeezed the trigger, and sent the man to meet his maker. The mangled bodies of four other men were strewn about the kitchen. Danny navigated through them. “Watch out, the floor is slippery.”
“We’ve got company coming!” Antoine raised his rifle to meet the sound of the incoming men who were responding to the blast from the kitchen.
Danny pulled the pin on the grenade and tossed it around the corner. A hiss of panic and shock could be heard from that direction as Danny, Chris, and Antoine ducked down behind the fridge and the stove. POWWWW!
The three men bounded up from their squatted positions, rushing through the door, and eliminating those who had survived the blast.
“They’ll all be coming for us now. We need a defensible position.” Chris kept his rifle trained toward the south side of the house.
“Let’s fall back to the study. Only one door from the rest of the house coming in, and we’ve got the back door if we need to retreat.” Danny backed toward the kitchen, being careful not to slip in the blood. He retrieved another grenade, listening for the approaching footsteps to get closer. He pulled the pin, moved to the far door of the kitchen and rolled the device to the dining room.
The men turned, dashed through the great room, and took cover from the explosion. Immediately after the blast, they re-entered the study.
Gunfire broke out from behind them. Chris turned. “That’s coming from this side of the house. Jack’s team is in trouble!”
Danny turned to look. The north side of the house was overrun with hostiles. “We’re cut off. We have to find another way out of here. Everybody, grenade in one hand, rifle in the other. I suggest you both put in a fresh mag. Once we leave this room, there’s no telling when you’ll have another chance to switch mags.”
“They’re coming for the door!” Chris spun around and shot three men charging the door from outside.
Antoine backed him up, killing one other assailant. Danny trained his sights on the door to the great room, waiting for the voices which were about to come through. Seconds before the first foot reached the threshold, Danny lobbed his last grenade. “Take cover!”
Chris and Antoine ducked until the shock wave, and shrapnel had passed.
With one knee on the floor, Danny turned and assisted Chris and Antoine in fending off the invasion at the back door. His AK-47 rattled off spent brass, which hurled across the room from the ejection port. He killed two men himself. Chris and Antoine eliminated several more, but they just kept coming. Danny heard Antoine’s bolt lock open, then Chris’s did also. Danny fired two more rounds, and his rifle ceased.
Someone yelled from behind them. “Checkmate.” It was the voice of Gorbold.
Danny’s stomach sank as the sure feeling of impending doom sucked the blood from his face, turning his mouth white and making his mouth go as dry as sandpaper. He glanced at the rifle in his hand, then to Chris’s, which had no magazine. Likewise, Antoine held a full mag in his hand, but there was no way he could get it in his rifle, slap the bolt shut, turn, and fire without all of them b
eing gunned down. Danny shook his head at Antoine and sighed.
“Hands on your head,” Gorbold instructed.
“You’ll kill us anyway.” Chris’s hand sat on his grenade.
“Indeed, I will. And I’ll kill the boy, and the two girls we caught outside. The only question which remains is, how will they die? If you cooperate, you can all pass easily from this life onto the next.”
“And if we don’t?” Danny asked as he eyeballed Chris’s grenade.
“The boy, he’ll die the worst death imaginable. And the girls, well, this is a compound full of depraved men. I’m sure you’re all bright enough to figure that one out.”
Danny wanted to vomit. He locked eyes with Chris and slowly shook his head. “What do you mean by co-operate?”
“Obviously, I’d like a little information about the rude individuals asserting themselves against the airport perimeter. Now, it’s time to make a decision. Hands on your heads or I’ll kill you and get to work on the other three.” Gorbold sounded as if he enjoyed seeing them with the impossible choice.
Danny slowly dropped his weapon and placed his hands on his head. Chris and Antoine did likewise.
“Restrain them and get them up to their feet.” Gorbold gave the command, and three guards quickly zip-tied them all.
Danny tried to keep a space between his wrists, but it was no use. He listened for evidence that Ben and Lucas’ teams might be winning the ongoing battle on the south side of the house, but he heard only the faintest trickle of gunfire in the distance. They’d obviously been killed or pushed back.
The guards stood Danny and his friends up and spun them around.
Gorbold shouted. “The spy! Ha! Imagine this. You’re the little spy!” His face was filled with surprise as he examined Antoine. “And you! You’re the one who broke him out.” Gorbold held his pistol with his hands crossed behind him. He rolled his feet slowly, heel to toe, heel to toe. He pivoted on his heel and stared at Chris. “What about you? Why do you look so familiar?” Gorbold glanced up at the ceiling as if he were trying to place Chris’s face. He turned back at him and pinched his cheek, as if touching him might help him to recollect. His eyes narrowed, and he snorted like an angry bull, glaring at Chris, as if he were somehow hiding his true identity.
Suddenly, Gorbold’s eyes widened. His lips began to separate, revealing his gray teeth. He snapped his fingers by Chris’s eye causing him to wince. “I’ve got it! You’re the son! Why you’re the spitting image of your old man. Well, before I worked on him, that is.”
“What are you talking about? My dad? He’s alive?”
“Technically, yes. But, I’ve met cans of tuna with more personality, and brighter futures I might add. Your dad is . . . he has the mind of a three-year-old. And he looks like something that might have been salvaged from a plane crash.”
“You animal! What did you do to my father?” Chris raged against Gorbold and tried to head butt him.
Two guards worked Chris over, punching him in the gut and kicking his feet out from beneath him.
Gorbold stepped back. “What did I do to your father? The same thing I’m going to do to you. Come along. Let’s go meet dear old dad.”
Gorbold put his arm around Danny’s neck and squeezed as he pulled him toward the basement door. “This really will be like a reunion, won’t it?”
Danny looked down the stairs into the utter darkness and shivered at the thought of his future. This was the dungeon he’d seen in his dream, in his nightmare.
CHAPTER 11
The waters compassed me about, even to the soul: the depth closed me round about, the weeds were wrapped about my head. I went down to the bottoms of the mountains; the earth with her bars was about me for ever: yet hast thou brought up my life from corruption, O Lord my God.
Jonah 2:5-6
Danny’s eyes adjusted to the empty darkness and gloom. He saw an emaciated figure dangling from a chain. Danny knew from his dream that the tormented being before him was his friend. But, JC was otherwise unrecognizable.
Chris was flanked by a guard on each side. “Where’s my brother?”
“Your brother?” Gorbold looked curious.
“You said you had the boy and the two girls. Where are they?” Chris demanded.
Gorbold chuckled as if he’d been reminded of a humorous lark. “Oh, that. Yes. Well, I lied. One of the guards saw them fleeing into the woods, leaving you here to die. I just told you that story to get you to capitulate. And it worked,” Gorbold said matter-of-factly. “You’ll thank me for it later.”
“Why would we do that?” Antoine asked.
“You won’t. I’m lying again. I’ve always had a problem with that, you see.” Gorbold laughed. “In a few hours from now, you will have told me all there is to know about your friends from Cabarrus.” Gorbold’s eyes burned with fury, and he gritted his wicked gray teeth together, snarling at Chris and squeezing his jaw with his decrepit hand. “Or you’ll be swinging from a filthy chain, in a catatonic state, like Daddy.” Gorbold spat in Chris’s eye. “Start with him. Take him to the interrogation chamber. I’ll be there in a minute. I need a drink of whiskey before I get started on this one. I’m determined to not have my patience tried in such a manner as I had to endure with his father.”
Danny looked sympathetically as Chris was dragged off to a closed room at the other end of the musty cellar.
The remaining guards chained Danny and Antoine to the wall near JC. As Danny’s eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, he looked over at JC who had blood matted in his overgrown beard and hair. A large gash in his forehead appeared to be infected. His lips were dry. He seemed to be malnourished and extremely dehydrated.
“JC, it’s me, Danny.” Danny’s arms began to ache almost immediately after they were chained up over his head in what looked like antique wrist irons. He couldn’t imagine the suffering JC had experienced over the past two and a half months.
JC looked as though he was barely alive. His head lifted slightly and turned in Danny’s direction. “Waaah.”
Gorbold returned down the stairs, whiskey bottle in hand, and walked quickly to the interrogation room. He closed the door. It was quiet for a few minutes, then the sound of beating could be heard. Silence returned for a brief respite, but was soon shattered by blood-curdling howls.
Danny’s compassion for the horrors JC had endured was quickly overridden by his shock at what was happening to Chris in the other room. Shrieks of agony and pain reverberated through the door and echoed off the cold concrete walls of the basement. Sorrow washed over Danny’s face like a wave of despair, pulling the corners of his eyes and mouth downward. The source of his grief was both the unfathomable agony Chris was experiencing and the realization that his turn would soon come.
JC mumbled another incoherent word. “Waaahtttaa.”
“Water? Are you trying to say water?” Danny hated to see his old friend like this. He hated, even more, to not be able to do anything about it.
“Heehh.”
“We don’t have any water. I’m sorry. But, we came to get you out. Things didn’t quite work out the way we planned.” Danny was talking to himself as much as he was to JC.
“We still might,” Antoine added. “The people from Pickens and from Concord, they’re still out there fighting JC. It ain’t over yet.”
Danny forced a smile. He knew the optimistic remark had been meant for him. He glanced at Antoine. “That’s right. We haven’t given up yet.”
Chris yelped and screamed in the other room for several more minutes, then he was quiet. The guards dragged him out and chained him up next to JC. Chris was unconscious.
Gorbold came out of the room. He stared angrily at Danny and Antoine. “You can save us all a lot of trouble and just tell me what I want to know.”
“You want to know the plans? I’ll tell you the plans.” Antoine wriggled in his chains.
“Antoine, don’t tell him anything.”
“Shut up!” Gorbold punched D
anny in the stomach, then he backhanded him in the mouth. He turned to Antoine. “Go on.”
“The plan is . . .” Antoine took a deep breath. “Our friends are going to kick in your door and put a bullet in your head.”
“He’s next. Get him ready. I’ll be right back.” Gorbold headed for the stairs as two guards lowered his arms.
Once his arms were lower, Antoine tackled the two men like puppets, pushing them both to the ground. His hands were still restrained, but he charged at Gorbold, knocking him to the ground.
A stream of men rushed down the stairs, wailing on Antoine with batons. Minutes later, he lay subdued on the floor. Blood was coming out of his mouth and nose.
Gorbold brushed himself off and wiped the blood off of his own mouth. “String him back up.” He pointed to Antoine. Then, he turned to Danny. “Put this one in interrogation. He’s a little easier to manage. I’ll be back.”
Danny’s heart dropped down past his stomach. Anxiety and apprehension filled his head, building up into a pressure that he could feel behind his eyes. His hands felt rigid, unable to move, almost frozen by fear. He’d been beaten by Gorbold before, but he had a feeling this was going to be a lot worse. The men took him down from the wall and escorted him to the interrogation room.
Danny figured that if he were to try the same tactic as Antoine, they might beat him unconscious, and he’d be unable to answer any questions. He took one foot and suddenly swept it up from behind, knocking the guard on his left off of his feet. The other guard abruptly threw Danny to the floor and restrained his ankles. The guard who had fallen gave Danny a swift kick in the mouth before assisting the other in dragging him to the interrogation room by the feet. Danny’s plan to be beaten unconscious had failed.
The taste of blood filled his mouth as he sat bound to the chair and waited for Gorbold to return. He could move one of his lower teeth with his tongue. It was loose from the kick in the mouth. Danny spat out a mouthful of blood onto the floor where it mixed with Chris’s.
