by Kari Nichols
Cisco motioned over toward the entrance to the north tunnel. If they could get there undetected and crawl underneath a stationary flatbed truck to the far side of the cavern, they could hide amongst the barrels and work their way back toward the complex entrance. Druid agreed and motioned for Cisco to take the lead.
Stepping from the room, Cisco strode toward the tunnel entrance, his gaze sweeping the area, looking for anyone paying him too much attention. Ducking behind a stack of crates, he waited until the next truck was being guided into the cavern. With Druid on his heels, Cisco continued moving toward the tunnel entrance.
When the next truck had stopped halfway out of the tunnel and waited to be instructed to move forward, Cisco ran up to it and crawled beneath the bed. He exited the far side and ran straight across the warehouse to the barrels positioned along the east wall. Druid tucked in beside Cisco, but he wasn’t quite quick enough to avoid detection. A shout from one of the Russian soldiers alerted them. Cisco and Druid stood as one and opened fire. The soldier returned fire and a nearby barrel exploded, spewing flaming gasoline thirty feet into the air.
“Shit, go back,” Cisco ordered. He raced out from the end of the barrels and slid across the top of the flatbed truck to the far side. The driver popped his arm out his window, a gun in his hand, but Cisco fired a quick three rounds and the gun fell to the ground. The driver in the truck behind kept both hands on the wheel in plain sight. Cisco headed for the maze of crates.
As Druid rolled off the back of the truck and ran between the crates, a row of soldiers appeared around the far end and started firing. Ducking in behind a large stack of crates to avoid the gunfire, Druid spotted another line of soldiers tightening the net on the east side of the crates.
“We’ve got men to the east and the south of us, ten per. Split off and get to it,” he ordered as he ran down an aisle, his gun spitting bullets at the soldiers to the south.
Cisco headed east and hunkered down behind a large group of crates.
***
“I’ve got eyes on Vlad’s crew,” Hancock whispered over the common channel. “He’s close to the submarine.” Hancock followed the small group with his binoculars. He had scaled the first riser to its third level and set up his rifle. As his men ran through the risers on the first level, he called out the position of Godin’s soldiers. Wherever possible, he took them out before they could join the melee.
“Can you hit him?” Tate asked. She had just confirmed with Tank that his mission was complete. She’d sent him to the cavern warehouse to assist Druid’s team while she led hers toward the shipping port.
“Yes sir,” Hancock stated and stood up.
Fargo, situated at the opposite end of the port, had a partial view of the risers. He had a clear view of the fourth level, but halfway down the third level the ship in berth #2 blocked his sight. He could see the top of Hancock’s head when he stood up to take aim on Vlad. To Hancock’s right, Fargo spotted movement. Raising his scope, he zeroed in on the top of the third riser, one row to the east of Hancock’s. “Hancock, on your three!” he called out over the radio.
Hancock dropped to the floor and rolled over the side. His fingers gripping the edge, Hancock scanned the area above him. One row over, he watched as his assailant made the leap across to Hancock’s row. Hancock swung his legs in and dropped down to the second row of risers. Packed to the top, he climbed over the crates and moved one section to the south.
“He’s climbing around the outside edges of the sections,” Fargo whispered. Fargo was about to lose sight of the man. Picking up his rifle, he moved far enough to the west to see around the ship. He didn’t want to get into range of the men on the submarine.
Hancock spotted the guy as he monkey climbed one section to the south. The Russian soldier pointed his gun at his feet and opened fire. Hancock jumped off the back edge of the riser and dropped straight to the ground. He slipped in amongst the crates on the first level. When the soldier swung out over the second level, Hancock opened fire. The Russian dropped to the ground and ducked out of sight. Hancock couldn’t tell if any of his bullets had hit home.
Rolling out to the back edge of the aisle, Hancock now stood with a row of crates between him and his assailant. He stood stock still, waiting for the Russian to make the first move. The Russian burst through the crates. Knocked to the ground, Hancock lost his grip on his gun. It skidded along the ground, sliding to a stop ten feet away. His left leg was pinned beneath the weight of a crate. Trapped, he pulled his knife from his pocket.
The Russian soldier smiled as he stared down at his quarry. The guy was built like a crate. Boxy and big, his flat head squatted on his neck like an angry bird. His beak-like nose looked sharp enough to pierce through skin. Hancock waited for him to spout some lame Rocky line, but the Russian remained silent. His gun pointed at Hancock’s face.
Fargo didn’t have the shot, but he took it anyway. His bullet ripped across the distance and lodged into the riser behind the Russian’s head. The metallic twang startled the Russian. He ducked and checked over his shoulder. Hancock pushed the gun away from his face and slammed his knife into the Russian’s right thigh. High and inside, Hancock’s blade sliced through skin, muscle and veins. Giving the blade a savage twist, he used the serrated top edge to tear the flesh apart. Severing the femoral artery with the initial cut, the serrated edge of the knife then tore it wide open. Blood spurted out in a high arc. The Russian lost his balance, crashing into the crates for support.
Hancock gave him a shove with his right leg and the Russian pushed through the crates and hit the floor. His left leg now freed, Hancock leapt to his feet and grabbed the Russian’s gun. A single shot to the head put the Russian out of his misery. Hancock looked across the distance to Fargo. He tossed the sniper a smart salute then turned and retrieved his own gun.
Stepping out from the risers, Hancock saw that Vlad had already made the steel walkway and was stepping down onto the sub. Three men trailed behind him. Hancock didn’t recognize any of them. “Fargo, can you get them?”
Vlad had climbed up to the hatch and was trying to get inside the submarine when a shot rang out. He was flung backwards and Hancock could hear his screech from across the port. Vlad overcorrected his position and toppled inside, the sound muffled by the thick walls of the sub. The last man on the sub gestured for the others to roll inside, keeping their heads below the top edge of the hatch. They managed to get inside unscathed.
“Vlad has gotten away, though he did take a bullet, sir,” Hancock informed Tate.
“The sub?” she asked, as she entered the port and studied the sub for herself.
“She can’t submerge, but she can still move,” Hancock replied.
Tate looked at her watch.
09:14
09:13
09:12
***
Finn scrambled through the narrow confines of his personal escape route. The walls were sweating moisture. Mildew had settled into the cracks, giving the air a stuffy, damp feel. Finn wasn’t fond of tight spaces. The submarine ride from Godin’s island had just about done him in. Now he had to do it all over again. At least the distance wasn’t anywhere near as long this time. He understood why anyone who went squirrely in tight spaces couldn’t be a submariner. They’d fucking go loco within a week inside that tub.
Finn had stuffed his backpack full of gadgets, components and other paraphernalia that he thought might soon be hard to come by. He wasn't thrilled about heading into the frozen wasteland of Russia, but it was better than staying in the underground tomb. At the end of the first passage, he cracked the door open and had a quick look around. The tunnel was full of trucks that weren’t being serviced because there was a war raging inside the cavern warehouse. Ignoring the interested looks of the drivers, Finn crossed to the far side of the tunnel and punched in the code for the second hidden doorway. It swung open and he stepped inside, hauling it shut behind him. He didn't want any of the truck drivers following behind him.
/>
The second passage was much shorter than the first. Finn exited into the escape tunnel. Two hundred yards to his right he saw the nose of the submarine. Finn stopped short. The hull of the submarine was partially torn apart. Instead of floating silently, the submarine lurched against her ties as the propellers churned half out of the water. As he watched, he saw Vlad step down off the walkway and approach the hatch. Finn stepped onto the narrow path and started walking along the edge of the escape tunnel. He stopped in horror when Vlad got shot and then toppled into the sub.
Seeing Morrison, Dr. Ho and then Kirilenko all enter the sub, Finn picked up his pace. The hatch closed and he felt a moment of panic, but then it popped open again and Morrison stuck his head up out of the hatch. He looked into the escape tunnel and spotted Finn running along the path.
“Hurry the fuck up!” Morrison bellowed at Finn.
***
Emily heard Morrison call out and she came to a dead stop. Whipping around, she stared at the submarine and spotted him at the hatch, his head below the top edge, out of sniper range. A man she didn’t know came running out from the tunnel area and headed up the dock stairs.
Emily’s eyes narrowed. It couldn’t fucking be, she thought. Moving a few steps closer, Emily tried to will the man to turn his head toward hers. When he did, he looked straight at her. Emily felt the anger explode inside her. Her gun up, Emily started running for the sub. Tate yelled for her to stop, but Emily was beyond hearing. She sprinted down the road, her long legs eating up the distance. Tate ran after her, but knew she wouldn’t catch the determined woman before she got within range of the sub and Morrison’s gun.
Tate watched as Finn scrambled off the walkway and worked his way around to the hatch. He crawled inside and then Morrison popped his head back up again. He stared at Emily and the sneer on his face was obvious, even from Tate’s position two hundred yards away.
Emily started firing and her bullets went wild, pinging off the end of the road. She wasn’t in range yet, which meant she wasn’t in Morrison’s range, either. Tate ran faster. She considered putting a bullet into Emily’s leg to stop her before she hit Morrison’s range.
Morrison’s head disappeared and was replaced by Kirilenko’s. Tate didn’t know who he was, but he had control over Morrison. She watched as he studied Emily for a moment, a strange half smile on his face and then he dropped the hatch. The submarine began to move. Emily’s bullets pinged off the side, doing little damage. She stood at the edge of the road and watched as the submarine churned its way into the tunnel.
Increased firepower from the cargo area turned Tate’s attention and she called over the common channel to Braddock. “You need a hand over there?” she asked already heading in that direction. Gibson and Simon were up and moving. Jimmy remained tucked into the side of the shipping office with Natalia behind him. Bulls-eye dumped Piggy next to Natalia and then headed toward the risers.
“If you’ve got a spare hand, sure,” Braddock replied. Stepping between the racks, he winced as he put pressure on his left foot. He’d taken a hit to his ankle from some shrapnel once the propane tanks blew. He searched the darkness for the few remaining Russian soldiers.
Ahead of him was an open section of shelving, on the second level. Using the steel supports as a ladder, he climbed up. As he stepped off the supports to the riser, shots rang out from further down the aisle. Bullets struck him in the chest and leg. His strength deserting him, he sank to the floor of the riser. “I’m hit,” Braddock whispered.
“How bad?” Gibson demanded.
“Bad.”
Gibson and Simon sprinted through the maze of debris. Trucks were on fire, the ship had a giant hole in the starboard side. The east wall showed signs of stress from the blast of the propane tanks. The weight from the cavern roof was beginning to take its toll.
“Where are you?” Gibson asked.
“Down the aisles. Near the east end.” Speech was painful. Braddock’s chest throbbed with every breath. He could feel his blood pooling underneath him. A shuffling step caught his attention.
“Someone’s nearby,” he murmured into his radio.
His strength nearly depleted, he hardly twitched when the Russian soldier appeared before him. The soldier swiped Braddock’s M4 over the side, and it clattered to the floor, useless. Braddock looked into the eyes of his killer and didn’t flinch.
He didn’t hear the shot; didn’t feel its impact. He ceased to feel anything.
07:44
07:43
07:42
Chapter 22
Tank and Warp entered the cavern warehouse with Eugene and Samuelson bringing up the rear. The melee was off in the far northwest corner of the warehouse. A small line of soldiers was spread out, firing in two distinct directions. Tank took off at a dead run. His gun didn’t have the range to hit any of the soldiers. Warp sprinted toward the south end of the firefight while Tank headed for the north end. Eugene and Samuelson aimed for the middle.
A group of Russian civilians got caught in the middle of the war. One man forced the lids off two crates. He pulled out the weapons inside. The first crate held RPG launchers and the second one held the grenades. Assembled before they’d been crated up, the man loaded one and handed it to a co-worker. With their launchers braced against their shoulders, the men headed down a row of crates.
Tank moved closer to the north end of the warehouse. A truck sat facing the tunnel, but hadn’t moved since the soldiers had appeared. When he was within thirty feet of the side of the truck, Tank fired on the gas tanks located behind the cab. The tanks exploded. The strength of the blast twisted the flatbed into the air. The cab of the truck smashed down on its grill, crushing the driver. The flatbed rolled onto its side. Tank continued on toward the north tunnel and the remaining trucks.
Samuelson stepped up beside a crate. With his back to it, he fired on the line of soldiers pinning Cisco into a corner. Eugene walked into the middle of the crates and worked his way forward. As the soldiers sought cover from Samuelson’s firepower, they entered the aisles and met up with Eugene’s.
A forklift shot through a row of crates, scattering boxes everywhere. Eugene dove for cover as the Russian swung the forklift around in a tight turn and came straight for him. Eugene leaped up and raced west. The far wall was lined with crates forty feet high. As the forklift neared, Eugene swerved off to the left. The forklift couldn’t make the same turn and smashed into the crates against the wall. The forks struck the concrete wall. The back tires reared up off the ground and the cab slammed into the wall. Thrown forward, the driver hit the wall. His collarbone snapped like a twig and he crumpled to the ground. Eugene stepped up to the fallen man and put a bullet in his head.
Warp worked his way up from the back of the pack. He had covered little ground before he spotted Druid. The younger man encountered a group of Russian soldiers who flanked him. Pushing him back against the wall of the west gas station, they readied to fire. Warp stepped from the row of crates and lit into them. The unexpected barrage from behind cut their numbers in half before they could respond. Druid dove to his left, out of their direct line of sight. He opened fire, cutting down three of the remaining soldiers. The last three soldiers headed for the open bay doors of the gas station.
Warp fired two grenades in quick succession, into the open bay doors. The double blast obliterated the Russian soldiers. The fire engulfed the forklift that was in for repair, igniting the fuel in its tanks. The blast pushed the forklift off the hydraulic lift and sent it tumbling out of the gas station. It rolled, end over end, slamming into one of the two gas pumps. The forklift tore the gas pump from its supports. Fuel spewed up in an enormous fountain, ignited by the flames from the gas station.
“Boom,” whispered Warp.
Druid scrambled away from the gas station just as the tanks beneath the station ruptured. He felt the liquid hit his back and he started to roll on the ground to douse the flames. He was rolling on ground covered in gasoline.
/> Warp dragged Druid beyond the gasoline soaked ground. Whipping his shirt over his head, Warp patted out the flames. Small patches of Druid’s dry suit had melted to his legs, but the brunt of the damage was offset by his bulky Kevlar bodysuit. Once the flames were out, Druid got to his feet. He winced at the pull on his burnt legs, but ignored it.
“Thanks,” he nodded to Warp.
A tremendous whooshing sound grabbed their attention. Both men stared at the flaming gas station. Unbeknownst to them, the two gas stations were tied together by a pipe that ran the full width of the warehouse, beneath the concrete. When the fire had raced down the pipes to the holding tanks, it didn’t stop there. With the aperture to the connecting pipe open, the fire encountered no barriers between it and the route to the east gas station.
The fire cruised through the long pipe, a line of fire chasing across the warehouse to the east wall. The pipe burst its seams as the fire heated the liquid and caused it to expand in the confined space. The force tore through the concrete. A two foot trench stretched across the full width of the warehouse.
The fire reached the far side of the warehouse. The tanks beneath the east wall station erupted, bursting up through the concrete. The impact caused the walls of the cavern to shudder and the shock wave reverberated throughout the complex.
Turning their attention back to the mini war raging behind them, Warp and Druid threaded their way through the crates, heading north.
06:21
06:20
06:19
***
“He’s down the second to last aisle,” Fargo whispered.
Gibson took off for the far end of the cargo area while Simon slipped down one of the aisles. Pockets of gunfire echoed up from the depths of the aisles. The remainder of Braddock’s and Hancock’s teams had been engaged in battle the instant they’d stepped into the cargo area. The addition of Tate’s team evened the numbers out a little.
