Haven

by Justin Kemppainen

  When they finished speaking, they started down the street again. He radioed to his scouts, and told them get into position to hit Purgatory.

  ******

  The real Elijah sat in his room. He had briefly tried to get some sleep, but as soon as the radio calls came in reporting Citizen troop movement, he sprang up and listened to the back and forth chatter. He had very little experience in tactics or strategy, so he remained silent, just listening. When he heard the report of the size of the incoming force, he started to pace back and forth, hands trembling.

  This continued for some time until he finally sat down, cradling his head in his hands. He took several breaths and thought once again of his goal. He clenched his teeth again as he thought of the bastard Lange, who they called Citizen One. He has to still be alive. He wouldn’t just let himself expire from old age.

  Tears welled up in his eyes; he shook his head, clearing it. This is the only way, he thought.

  Victor had gone. They agreed that, when it became necessary, that someone would have to go into the outside world. In spite of Elijah’s protests, Victor insisted that it be him. Being potentially close to the line of fire from Citizens and ambitious individuals alike, Victor falling wouldn’t be as devastating, as Elijah could then step in. In addition, with everyone thinking that Elijah was out and about, the real one didn’t have much use for a bodyguard. He’s also worried about my health, Elijah thought. He doesn’t think I have the strength to see this through.

  Victor immediately left when the pair of Sergei’s people arrived, bringing with them the suggestion of unification that was intended. Given the chance, Victor intended to negotiate with everyone representing people in down below for an alliance. With his powerful presence and piercing charisma, as well as what would hopefully be a demonstration of military might, it was doubtful that Victor would fail. Elijah winced. Assuming enough of us survive tonight to make a difference, he thought.

  ******

  Kaylee waited in a small flat, what she assumed was one of many of Miguel’s many places of personal residence, located several stories above the bottom-level bars and clubs of Heavenly Bodies in the same structure, used for guests to stay in for however long they desired or could afford. The accommodations seemed to have suffered a little since the occupation; she sat on a hideous brown couch, fairly comfortable. Aesthetically, however, it featured off-white, dull red, and other various brown in thin strips. You’d think he’d get something a little more appealing, she thought.

  Miguel had left to tend to some business and meet with a few of his higher-ups. Two well-muscled thugs stood outside, guarding the room, and bars blocked the windows making sure she couldn’t leave by that route either. She was four floors up anyway, and the fire escape had been torn out for scrap metal years ago. She sensed that he brought a lot of his girls here. There’s really no escape, she thought with a shudder.

  She had taken a while to search the place. On the left of the entrance, the kitchen was partially concealed by a short section of wall with two openings, one that lead to the entryway, and the other that came out into the living room area.

  Miguel was an arrogant man, some would say fearless. Kaylee thought he was just plain dumb. On the kitchen counter sat a knife block containing a dozen sharp implements. Kaylee had already taken one of the longer ones and snapped off a section of blade. She then stuck the handle back into the block as though nothing was amiss. She wrapped the sharp edge in a few layers of thick medical tape she found in a first aid kit under the sink to create makeshift grip. She hid the blade under the pillow in the bedroom. She grimaced at the thought of being in there with Miguel but assumed that he would give her little choice in the matter.

  The concealed weapon made her feel better. If I can surprise him, she thought, I might have a chance. As much as she hated to admit it, the bedroom was the place that he’d likely let his guard down the most. She knew one thing for certain; she would either kill him or die trying.

  So she waited, patiently, on the couch, for him to return, wondering how far she had to let him go before he’d let his guard down enough. She shuddered again.

  She walked around the flat again, checking and rechecking her concealed weapon. She moved a few pieces of furniture in the main living space, adjacent to the hallway. She found a bottle of oil in the cupboard and unscrewed the cap, setting it on the ground just around the corner to the tile floor in the kitchen, easy to kick over. She pulled out a few chairs around the small kitchen table.

  She set the entire house up to have as many places to trip up and fall over as possible, carefully memorizing each one in case she needed to use them to her advantage. With all of her preparation, she almost felt as though she stood a chance against him. He may be cruel, brutal, heartless, selfish, narcissistic, and arrogant, she thought, but he seems to be constantly alert. I just need to find a good moment.

  ******

  Rick had four expert snipers at various positions looking at a few different angles into Purgatory. They counted around thirty men total, eight standing guard outside, one on a mounted heavy machine gun. The men outside would be easy to take care of, but he didn’t know if those inside would run away, dig in, or come outside to assist their fallen comrades. He didn’t intend to give them a chance to do anything at all.

  He pulled up his heavy weapons team. They carried a machine gun with bipod, and a grenade launcher. He hated to spend what little explosive ammunition they carried. They possessed five rounds for the launcher and even fewer hand grenades, but Rick quickly decided it necessary: the effect of firing it into a smallish space like the lobby would be devastating. “We just have to get close enough to use it without getting sliced in half by that MG.” He muttered.

  Rick’s squad leaders returned to their groups and dispensed orders. Rick whispered into his radio, giving the snipers their instructions, he watched through his binoculars. The enemy soldiers were strolling around out in front. They looked to be somewhat bored, not paying a whole lot of attention.

  This is almost sad, Rick thought, they’ll never know what hit ‘em.

  ******

  Out in front of the Citizen’s Escape building, designated Alpha Base, several soldiers peered out into the darkness. Their floodlights gave enough illumination to see as far as the memorial fountain.

  The soldiers milled around both inside and out, expecting that this location was going to be the light duty. From what it had sounded like, most of the enemy forces capable of fighting were the objective, miles away. Nothing to do at Alpha Base except relax and make sure the techies set everything up.

  The soldiers couldn’t see much further than the fountain, even with the pale street lamps shining in the street. One of them squinted, thinking he saw something moving around a distance away. He took a few steps out, peering.

  The bullet passed at a downward angle just above the right side of his brow, exiting out the back of his neck. He died instantly, falling to the ground as the echoing crack of a rifle report filled the air. The other seven men jumped to attention when they heard the sound and saw their man falling, shouting and frantically looking around. Three more of them fell to fatal head injuries, blood pooling inside their defensive border. One of the men started gasping and screaming as he tried to run for cover, cut-off abruptly by the next shot. The final few fell within moments, their twitching bodies joining the other dead men just outside the building.

  Through his binoculars, Rick could see a flurry of action within the Escape as a several men ran to investigate the screams and gunshots. A couple of soldiers foolish enough to move by windows or peek outside fell just as quickly. Soon, it appeared no one inside was willing to try any further. He gave a quick hand motion.

  The heavy weapons team sprinted forward to the fountain, throwing the bipod open and mounting the machine gun. They pulled the string of rounds out of the underside ammunition box, feeding it into the weapon.

  The machine gun roared to life, pounding dozens of rounds
into the building and filling the air with the deafening chatter, chipping huge divots into the wall surrounding and shattering what few shards of window remained.

  The man holding the grenade launcher, an M-79, crossed half the distance to the Escape, and with a light plunk, he sent a 40mm high explosive grenade directly into the Escape. A deafening explosion filled the air along with the sounds of screaming men and a billow of smoke and debris.

  Rick and the rest sprinted forward. Under the cover of the suppressive fire of the machine gun, they took up positions along either side of the entrance. He held up his hand and made a quick gesture with his hand; the firing ceased. Another hand motion and they moved in, pouring in on either side of the entrance.

  Several soldiers were already on the ground, bleeding heavily from shrapnel wounds and moaning in pain. Other soldiers were starting to pick themselves up, and several technicians, those who were still alive and conscious, whimpered and cowered on the ground. Rick fired his sidearm handgun several times, a large .45. Well-placed shots sent lethal rounds into enemy soldiers, who, too disoriented or wounded, didn’t fire back.

  The rest of his men cut through the room with surgical precision, cleaning up all of the remaining soldiers inside Purgatory. Unconscious and cowering men alike, all were dispatched in short order, save for a couple of surviving technicians who were spared. When the area was secure, Rick holstered his weapon and addressed the prisoners.

  “Listen up!” He barked, causing them to jump. “You’ve been left alive for one simple reason! You are to use those nice, little radios of yours to relay whatever information we tell you to!” He pulled his weapon again and placed the barrel at one man’s forehead. The others gasped, and the man went pale, swallowing hard. “If you refuse, if you hesitate, if you try to be clever and try to tip them off, if you do anything even the slightest bit suspicious… these fine men will kill you without a second thought.” He reholstered his weapon, motioning towards the few people he planned to leave behind as guards. “If you behave, I promise that no harm will come to you by any of us, ever. Understand?”

  Shakily, each one of the techs nodded before being directed to gather up the still-working radio equipment; a lot had been damaged beyond repair. What hadn’t been set-up still lay in boxes near the elevator, shielded from the shrapnel by tables and people. The techs gathered up the equipment and were quickly herded out of the building to a new, nearby location.

  A few of Rick’s people gathered the bodies and moved them out behind the building, just inside the Escape compound. Rick checked his watch, apprehensive, as a few other men cleaned up the room and unloaded some of their own equipment. He had a surprise in mind in case any groups of soldiers came running back this way.

  One objective down, Rick thought, as his people filed down the narrow street. It’ll help later on, but only if we manage to drive the bastards out. He glanced at his watch again and winced. Miguel’s forces had to already be fighting.

  ******

  Quiet as a whisper, Malcolm slipped past the milling group of Citizen soldiers, who appeared to be waiting for something. From what Malcolm could see, they had moved to this point undetected by Miguel’s forces. Aside from passing by several bodies on the way, there had been no noise or visual signs of any real struggling.

  He passed through the shadows, sliding a few feet behind a guard on watch, and slipped down an alleyway that was void of any activity. Foregoing silence for a moment, he sprinted through it, and was finally through the loosely guarded border. He continued for several blocks, moving towards where he thought Kaylee had been taken.

  Finally, Malcolm came to a clearly occupied building with huge neon lights glowing in the darkness. The sign read “Heavenly Bodies.” He stared at it for a moment, trying to decipher the meaning, but he disregarded it as unimportant. He could see numerous men carrying weapons and walking about, coming and going out of a few buildings adjacent and across the street from the club. By their lack of concern or preparation, a part of his brain assumed they were unaware of what he assumed was a coming assault. The corner of the large club, along with an entrance that cut into the building with a wide staircase, was hedged off. The flattened corner rose up the entire length of the building, translating into windows on some floors.

  As he looked the structure up and down, he noticed that, a few stories up, lights were on, showing through a few of the windows on one of the floors, completely isolated. He slipped his cloth face covering aside, trying to find Kaylee’s scent once again.

  The smells of dozens, hundreds of sweaty, dirty men wrapped in tobacco and liquor washed over him, along with various other ones. Concentrating for several moments, he finally picked out her lingering presence. He could tell that she’d been through the square a few times, but he couldn’t quite detect, from where he stood, which building she was in and couldn’t investigate further without being seen.

  Scooping up a small chunk of crumbled rubble, Malcolm cast it in the direction of one of the men walking around, far off to the left side of the square. The man gave a yell of pain as the piece struck the back of his thigh hard enough to rip the cloth and draw blood. Soon after, the man started a loud commotion of angry accusation and lewd insults, limping towards someone else.

  Most of the other men in the square took notice of the disturbance, walking towards it as a small scuffle broke out. Malcolm took the opportunity of distraction to run off to the right, through some well-lit portions of the square. He was only a short distance away from the Heavenly Bodies building, next to one he could see was called the Dungeon. He detected a particularly foul aroma emanating from that place.

  Kaylee’s scent lingered, but it seemed to be traveling away from the building and not inside it. He was glad. Something about the building, not just the disturbing stench, was unnerving, but at least he could now reasonably guess that Kaylee was being kept in the other place, with the neon sign.

  Still emboldened by the successful distraction, which had escalated to a brawl between the two individuals but was now being broken up, Malcolm cut across another narrow street to the tall structure of the club. He heard a yell, quite close to him, as he passed again into the shadows. As silently as possible, he sprinted away from the square down the street, unsure if it had been directed at him. After a distance he turned back and watched; no one came looking for him. Satisfied that he was not being pursued, he resumed looking for other ways into the building. It appeared as though most of the windows were barred, and no fire escapes were present.

  He moved into the alleyway behind the building. There wasn’t anyone to be seen, but he did discover a locked back door. He threw himself against it, trying to break it down, but the door was thick and sturdy enough to do no more than shudder and groan. He stopped for a moment, looking around again.

  He was startled when, after a quiet click, the door was thrown open, and a largish man was staring at him open-mouthed. The guard pulled his pistol from a shoulder holster, but Malcolm’s hand shot out and snatched the weapon. The man barely had time to look down and notice he no longer held his gun before, with his other hand, Malcolm seized the man’s outstretched wrist. In a swift motion, Malcolm yanked the man with overwhelming strength, ducking down underneath and throwing him overhead.

  Eyes wide and mouth gaping with a surprised yell escaping his throat, the man sailed through the air, ramming into the alley wall face-first with a loud crunch. He flopped to the ground, unmoving.

  Without hesitation Malcolm walked into the building. Immediately on his right was a staircase upward, which he took. He didn’t exactly know where he was planning on going, but Kaylee had to be in here somewhere. He was going to find her.

  Chapter 20: Warzone

  Captain Wayne Redgick stood in a large command center, designated Gamma Base, set up two miles southeast of the Heavenly Bodies club. He had several men running radios, keeping constant communication back and forth between the various squads of men getting into position. Redgick had
full authority over the Citizenship forces stationed under Haven.

  During their progression to this point, his people had eliminated more than two dozen of Miguel’s men on patrol quietly and without incident. He now had two main groups of over one hundred and fifty men each, surrounding the northwestern corner where Heavenly Bodies lay, ready to strike from the east and south streets.

  To his knowledge, there had been no communication back to Miguel or any of his people, so the strike would come completely by surprise. He had them completely boxed in on all sides, and with a word, he could send his men in to make short, bloody work of the entire area.

  He held his radio up to his mouth, engaged it on the wide channel, communicating with all of the waiting forces. He said, “This is Captain Redgick, you are ordered to commence the strike on the objective ‘Heavenly Bodies.’ Code: Echo-One-Three-Six. Take prisoners if possible, dispatch when necessary.” He paused, releasing his finger from the button, thinking. “Use caution, and be vigilant.” He added. He put the radio back into its cradle.

  About thirty soldiers remained behind at the command post for defense and coordination of the assault. Captain Redgick took a walk out of the garrisoned building, what used to be a large liquor store. Everything had been stripped out of it, making it a hollow empty shell, a perfect space for tables, bundles of radio equipment, maps, and spare supplies. He strolled around the outside, supervising the set up. He paced back and forth, waiting for news.

  ******

  Out of mostly sheer boredom, Kaylee had continued her search of the small flat. In the bedroom she found an assortment of women’s clothing, further cementing her notion that she was not the first one brought here. As she looked through the clothing, she found a small sundress.