Haven

by Justin Kemppainen

  She stuffed the device in her pocket, hoping that it wouldn’t lead some other sort of unseemly characters to her, as she looked outside again. The combat line around the square appeared to be crumbling, as many of Miguel’s men had moved backward. The ever-closer rumble of gunfire suggested that some were setting up inside the slight overhang alcove which was a few floors beneath them.

  Kaylee turned to Malcolm. “We should get out of here, but I don’t know where to go. If they find us, we’ll be killed or taken back with them.” She looked back outside, grimacing.

  They heard the sound of rapid footfalls outside, like the sound of someone running, and the door was thrown open. A single man entered, yelling an inquiring, “Miguel?” as he came inside, gasping for breath. He looked as though he’d been running for a while. He saw Kaylee and Malcolm standing by the window and confusion touched his face. “Who are…” His eyes slid around the room, noting the bloody trail on the carpet as well as various broken objects and even more blood, around the room. He slowly backed out of the room, eyes wide, and bolted down the hallway.

  Without a word, Malcolm sprang forward, out of the room after him. Surprised, Kaylee started running as Malcolm burst into the hallway. Just as she reached the doorway she heard a thud and a short cry of pain. Looking down the hallway, she saw that Malcolm had leapt upon the poor man and pinned him to the ground. He was still conscious, but he must have gotten the wind knocked out of him as he gasped for breath on the ground. Kaylee watched as Malcolm raised his clenched fist, striking the man in the back of the head. He went limp on the ground.

  Malcolm picked him up and as Kaylee walked down the hall to join him, he tossed the man, unconscious or dead she didn’t know, into the room with the others, who hadn’t moved or appeared to have stirred at all since being deposited earlier.

  As he came out, Kaylee walked up to him, “Lets go, they’ve probably been looking for him for a while,” she eyed him, waiting for some kind of response. When she received none, “It looks the club is surrounded, so…” She gave a little shrug. “Maybe we should just go up a couple more floors and wait it out.”

  “No,” Malcolm responded. Kaylee cocked her head in clear confusion as he elaborated with a brief, “Followw,” he grunted, taking off down the hallway at a startling clip.

  Kaylee ran after him, calling out a, “Wait up,” as he moved with that same fluid speed that surprised her every time. She shook her head slightly as she followed. I hope he knows what he’s doing, she thought.

  Chapter 21: Turning the Tide

  Rick thumbed the button on the radio; he stuck it back into the dirty leather pouch on his belt. They were bunkered down inside of an office building, in the large lobby. A tight fit for his all of men. He smiled.

  “Good news?” asked one of his men.

  “Yeah, just heard from V-,” he coughed suddenly, realizing and covering his mistake, “Elijah. Sergei’s on board, and his forces will be covering the southern flank.”

  Many of his soldiers gave grins, sighs of relief, and applause at the news, glad they wouldn’t have to be facing all three-hundred something soldiers by themselves.

  Rick laughed, “Yeah, looks like we might make it through the night after all. Sorry to disappoint you folks.”

  A light ripple of laughter went through the ranks. He kept the light banter going for a bit, trying to take the edge off. No one was saying just how dangerous or suicidal this mission was, but everyone knew. Even with Sergei’s help, it still put the odds on them at least three-to-one against, and no one was really sure of how good Sergei’s people were at fighting. They’d heard rumors that they were fearless and brutal when necessary but had no concrete experience to know for sure.

  Rick didn’t like the situation. The entire operation depended on some pretty big mistakes from the Citizens. Just like the last one, Rick thought.

  Rick just wasn’t sure of how he was going to go about it. Baiting them could work, but whoever plays rabbit is going to get chewed up, he thought.

  One of his men piped up, “How about we just kill their officers again, like last time?” He was referring to the ambush of days before, where well-placed shots had taken out the more-intelligent individuals who kept the others in line. As Elijah had told him, the reservist army was negligent, didn’t have extensive training, and most of the enlisted men had never seen fire coming in their direction. When the officers fell, the enemy discipline had crumbed very quickly.

  “Only if they’re dumb enough to wear their tags in the open again,” Rick responded. “But don’t waste time looking for ‘em if you’ve got fifty other guys to take care of.”

  Rick pulled out his little map. “Listen up!” He called out, and everyone gathered around as best they could. He pointed at the street just east of Heavenly Bodies, “We’re going to come down this way. Squads one through seven will take up positions in these buildings on either side.” He tapped both sides of the street. “Everyone else is going to form a loose rabble and attack the Citizens from behind.” He slid his finger along towards the club, stopping at the intersection just before it. “Get their attention and start running back. Squad six,” he said, referring to the heavy weapons team, “will donate their launcher in order to better provoke their awareness and response. If anyone not involved in the distraction’s got any pineapples,” he said, referring to the hand grenades, “offer ‘em up to our bait.”

  Rick continued. “Be smart, don’t stay exposed too long, and make sure they come after you.” He stood up. “Let’s move.”

  The room became a mess of activity for a moment as everyone grabbed their packs and weapons, a few passing equipment to others, and filed out into the street.

  Outside, Rick checked the small device in his pocket, noticing that it was now glowing with a faint red light. It was the other end of the transmitter he had given Kaylee. Its activity meant she had engaged her device. Did she succeed? He wondered. Or did someone else kill her and use it by mistake? He shook his head. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

  ******

  Captain Redgick received the latest report from his sub-officers. They had pushed the enemy soldiers all the way back into the club, which was now completely surrounded. The building was well-garrisoned, and almost every window two floors up had gunfire spewing out of it. Total casualties were comparatively light. Dozens of individuals and small groups of Miguel’s people had surrendered, and they had been brought to a temporary holding area. All in all, it’s going quite well, he thought.

  Although he realized there wasn’t much that could have been done to prevent it, he frowned at the thought of digging them out of the building. He considered calling in reinforcements to speed along the process but thought better of it. The High Inquisitor had been reluctant to give him as many soldiers as he did, which was surprising considering how much he stressed the importance of the mission. Granted, they had pretty much brought the entire reserve army to keep the soldiers in the Acquisition Squads at their task. It wouldn’t have been difficult at all to temporarily reassign a few hundred more, but all requests were flatly denied. Redgick sighed and shook his head. That’s what you get when soldiers are controlled by politicians, aristocrats, and spooks, he thought to himself.

  “Do not fail,” the Inquisitor had told him. As much as he didn’t intend to, he knew it wouldn’t be him in the fire if this went poorly. Well, I won’t be alone at least.

  Failure seemed unlikely at this point, anyhow, as he walked outside the building once more. He gave a curt nod to his posted sentries as they saluted him. He enjoyed the authority, and this mission had given him a chance to prove his ability to command.

  The enemy had dug in; that was fine. It would take a bit longer without any backup, but that was fine too. Victory was assured.

  It’s only a matter of time.

  ******

  “Word just came in!” yelled Bates, the ranking officer in charge of the eastern assault on Heavenly Bodies, having just finished talk
ing on his pack radio. He had his back to a wall, the battle raging in the square just around the corner. He had to shout to be just barely heard over the ping and patter of bullets whizzing past and ricocheting off of the walls around them. “We got ‘em surrounded, and we need to push forward and secure the target!”

  The soldier next to him, closer to the live fire, half-peeked around the corner. He looked at the square, which had turned into a no-man’s land of just in front of the club with weapons fire pouring out. He muttered, mostly to himself, “Just how in the hell are we supposed to do that?”

  “We improvise.” Bates said to the man whose name he didn’t remember. “Hey!” He yelled to the machine gunner team waiting in the alleyway across the street. “Get that rig upstairs and put some suppressive fire down on that building!” They snapped quick salutes and ducked into the building.

  A moment later, Bates heard the heavy machine gun roar to life. As he peeked around the corner he saw little clouds of dust and mortar flying as the weapon traced large divots into side of the building, shattering several windows. He thought he could see a few silhouetted figures inside duck down under cover. He grabbed the man next to him, “Find Tucker, tell him to get another MG in on this side!” He jerked his thumb towards the building he stood against, “we gotta keep their heads down if we want to get across this mess!”

  The soldier next to him saluted, and ran out down the alleyway, cutting around a corner and moving out of sight. Bates sidled over and glanced out. A bullet pinged off the wall a couple of inches above him, showering him with dust and brick fragments. Cursing, he ducked down and fired his assault rifle at one of the windows. He couldn’t even tell where his shots ended up with all of the other ammunition bouncing off the building.

  He took a glance backward and noticed the rotating-chamber tear gas launcher clutched in the hands of a dead man lying in the street. He shouted some quick orders, and the soldier nearest him, a man named Lee, sprinted out and scooped it up. He ducked and danced as bullets zinged by him, but he made it back to cover unscathed, if mildly shaken. After shouting more instruction, the soldier and several others, one carrying a heavy riot shield, managed to get up beside him with some quick maneuvering.

  “Okay! We’re going to pour on the suppressive fire! Then you,” he pointed at Lee, “Young, and Miller are going to advance forward and see if you can get some gas into that building. Hit the first floor! Go!” He grabbed his radio again. “This is Bates! We got three men advancing into the square for high priority task; they need cover! Let’s give it to him, now!”

  He heard the sound of dozens upon dozens of rifles, pistols, and whatever else they had roared close to Bates as clouds of deadly ammunition peppered the club. The return fire slackened almost immediately as the enemy forces ducked into cover, and the small trio of men sprinted forward. Two of them hefted the thick shield and the man with the tear gas crouched safely behind it.

  “Sharpshooters! Move up and take out anyone aiming at ‘em!” He had them pull back to keep safe because one had already been killed. Probably by some lucky stray bullet, he thought. Little did he know, the man had actually died with a long blade between his shoulders an instant after hearing a scuffing noise behind him as he fired from the eighth floor of the building. Someone had since taken his place.

  “Machine gun teams, keep up the suppression! Everyone else, get your masks on and prepare to charge on my signal!” The team had reached the center of the square. He saw the two men carrying the shield shudder and stumble under the impact of a few rounds, but thus far no one had been able to keep their heads up long enough to sustain any fire on them.

  Lee popped up and launched a canister directly into the front entrance, the gas trailing behind it as it sailed to a perfect placement. He fired two more, and the obscuring cloud was already seeping out.

  “All right, let’s go! Everyone move!” Bates shouted into the radio. As he watched, Lee aimed upwards towards the windows. The kid’s ambitious, he thought. He might be a good shot, but I doubt he’ll be able to get one in-

  Bates’ last thought was cut off violently as Lee’s head snapped forward and a red splatter of gore coated the backs of the other two men. He sagged forward, knocking into them as he fell to the ground. He could see the other two men, panic as they hefted the shield. Bates watched, mouth open in horror, as they each went down within seconds in the same way, shot from behind.

  By now the alleyway was filled with running men, several dozen spilling out into the square. The obscuring cloud of teargas wafting upwards, along with the still-howling machine guns, kept them covered. The gunfire coming from the club still seemed sparse, but that wasn’t what Bates was worried about.

  Bates yelled into the radio, “Those shots came from behind! Who’s behind u-”

  A deafening explosion and a wave of concussive force blossomed twenty feet away, right in the middle of a group of charging soldiers. Bates was lifted off his feet, spun around, and hurled to the ground face-first in an instant.

  His eyes opened, vision blurred, and a high-pitched whine streaked through his hearing, obscuring most everything else. He clamored to his feet, promptly stumbling and falling down. He stood again and shakily leaned up against the same brick wall, watching numbly as men, with agony etched in their soundlessly screaming faces, crawled around, bleeding from shrapnel wounds. Several others ran past him, opposite of the club. His indistinct vision saw dark shapes down some indeterminate distance, firing on his exposed rear flank. Many of his men, just recovering from the blast, were cut down in the street.

  One soldier, Bates didn’t know his name, ran up to him, grabbing him by the shoulder, looking like he was shouting something at him. Bates could only hear muffled fuzzing, nothing else. The soldier kept shaking him, yelling and gesturing frantically down the street. Bates’ eyes lazily drifted that way again; he saw the fleeing shapes of the ambush party. Not sure what the soldier wanted, he just nodded. The man snapped a quick salute and swept his arm over his head in a “follow me” gesture. A large group of soldiers, dozens of men, sprinted down the street with him in pursuit.

  Bates looked back the other way; several of his men lay in a twisted line up to the edge of the square where the cloud of tear gas concealed everything else. He couldn’t tell if anyone had gotten through or not. As he leaned up against the wall, the high-pitched whine in his ears started to abate somewhat, and he could hear the sounds of percussive gunfire and the yells of various people.

  He stumbled out of his hiding place, moving down the street following after the men chasing the ambush party. He staggered down the street, still in a haze from the concussive force of the blast. His mind casually informed him of bullets whizzing by, ricocheting off of the walls and streets, but he just kept going.

  In the distance, more than a hundred yards off, he could see a few of his men running and firing in front of them, and he stumbled forward at a quicker pace, trying to catch up to them.

  Muzzle flashes blazed on both sides of the street, filling the space containing his pile of soldiers with live ammunition. He watched, horrified and numb, for ten seconds as every single man in the street screamed, writhed, twisted, and fell to the hail of gunfire.

  He stared for a moment longer, and about a couple dozen soldiers in black poured out of the buildings into the street. They ran out, checking each of the bodies. He watched, a couple of times, as someone drew a pistol and shot one of the people on the ground, executing the survivors.

  His radio crackled, he ducked into an alleyway as he heard the frantic voice of Olson, who was in charge of the southern flank, shouting, “We’re surrounded, requesting support! Ah, Christ dammit. Get in here!” He yelled to some unseen soldier, neglecting to release the transmit button. Talking into the radio again, he yelled, “Enemy forces started spilling out of alleyways and side buildings. Jesus, they fight like animals.” The voice became faint as he spoke to someone else. Bates could hear the sound of gunfire and indistinct shoutin
g through the radio. “You! Find another way out of this building, do it now!” came the unintended transmission. “We’re trapped in a side building. Is anyone out there?”

  Bates held the comm. up to his face and keyed the command channel. His mouth moved slowly and felt as though it were stuffed with cotton, “This is Bates.” He said in a hoarse whisper. He stole a glance around the corner. The ambush party started to move forward again.

  Relief flooded Olson’s tone. “Ah, damn, Bates! It’s good to hear from ya. We’re trapped, can you send some of your people to help us out here?”

  “Negative. Call a retreat. Get out if you can.” Bates mumbled, adrenaline desperately trying to stimulate his nerves and senses to get a semblance of urgency out of him. He ignored the squawking as Olson voiced objections in response. He moved down the alleyway, ducked around another corner. He didn’t see anyone else nearby, so he keyed in the open channel. “This is Bates; we have encountered unknown enemy forces on all sides. All forces pull back. I repeat, everyone: full retreat. Head back to Gamma Base, if you can…”

  He started running; his legs were still quite shaky, but he managed to keep a decent pace. As he went, the radio crackled again and he heard Captain Redgick’s voice angrily shouting, “What the hell is going on there, Bates?!”

  Bates grabbed his radio again, keying into the base’s channel it as he ran, half out of breath, “Ambush… severe casualties… need to pull back.” He stuck the comm. back in its place and continued running. He heard the sounds of Redgick still yelling at him, but he ignored it. Get back to base. Just gotta make it that far, his sluggish mind thought.

  ******

  Captain Redgick, at Gamma Base, slammed down the receiver of the radio and stormed out of the command building. “Get another machine gun set up here and make sure that building,” he stabbed a finger at the place next door to the liquor store, “is clear inside and ready to house troops!” He barked to no one in particular. Even so, several people started scurrying about to accomplish the orders. The tall apartment would hopefully be sufficient for temporary troop storage and regrouping.