by Ian Daniels
“It doesn’t seem to me like anyone who looks forward to the violence of open rebellion and warfare has a good idea who they are really going to be shooting at,” Danielle supplied, being a little more tactful than I was.
“Hey, this is the time for revolution!” the kid said excitedly.
“The only revolution that could have happened in the last two hundred years is a political revolution where states threaten and maybe even follow through with secession. The first revolution happened the way it did because of the reality of close proximity of the population to its government. Today you couldn’t even afford the gas for a trip to DC even if you could get through on the roads,” I was having a hard time processing their ignorance and was getting really tired of the whole debate.
“There are already riots sparking up. If people start sniping at officials, all its going to trigger is a backlash reaction by the government with a declaration of marshal law. We truly will be fighting ourselves then,” Danielle pointed out.
“Ma’am, I don’t think you know who’s who in all this,” the Captain eyed her with renewed suspicion.
I cracked my knuckles nonchalantly in my pockets and sighed.
“Okay, fine, enough of Current World History 101. Let’s bring it back to the here and now. I can deal with the idea that you guys are trading food for work in this community and at this church, and again no disrespect, but I asked you before, do you know what you’re doing?”
“Again, I’m not sure I get you... nor do I appreciate the question,” the Captain responded.
“Well you’ve got Dick Face and the Boy Scout here, some surplus store camos and a couple of guns... I bet you’ve even read a book on guerrilla tactics, but do you really know what you’re doing with a security gig like this or with the winter coming on?”
He looked insulted and I didn’t stop long enough to let him start firing off his resume at me.
I lowered my voice again slightly, trying to give them the courtesy of not calling them out in front of the last few people still milling around in the front of the church. “Are you guys ready for all this? Do you have a plan or are you just winging it? And if you are just winging it, do you at least admit to yourselves that's what you’re doing?”
“We are doing what we have to in order to get by and at the same time we are the best choice this place has at being secure. We have training and assets. You see my man Marcus there in the foyer out front? He is a world class shooter. He's placed in the Camp Perry shoots more than a few times. Yes, I think we can do okay,” he had an edge in his voice and I could see he was being truthful, he thought they really were up to the task.
I looked over at the man who was back again standing outside in the middle of the concrete pad that was part of the main entrance of the church. He was tall but otherwise fairly average looking. There was something about the way he stood though, his body language and how he held his rifle, a very nice, and very expensive, M1A. Even from behind him, he just exuded confidence. He was also completely exposed.
“You got all that?” I asked, thumbing the transmit button again on the radio in my pocket.
“Copy,” came back the reply in my ear.
“Well, you might have the tools but you don’t have shit for tactics. My guys in the field have your top shooter pegged in their scopes… and if your hand drifts to that gun one more time I’m going to cut it off and shove it up your ass until you burp,” I added noticing the Captain’s expression and the Boy Scout's nervous movements.
"Lets everyone just stay calm..." Danielle appealed soothingly in a low voice, possibly talking more to me than to the Militia dopes.
"Don’t you try to threaten me!" the Captain responded angrily.
“Look, you guys seem pretty well meaning and if the people here want to shelter you and let you run them, then that's their deal, but don’t kid yourselves,” I answered him sounding as cool and calm as possible.
"I believe its time for you to be leaving," Captain Short suggested.
“We said before that we didn’t want to cause any trouble, I hope you guys feel the same way,” Danielle said again, trying to keep the peace as she grabbed my arm, forcing me to walk backwards toward the door with her.
“Hey Boss, they seem to have their acts together, maybe we should tell them,” the burly HK guy attempted to implore the Captain in a low voice about something. I was close enough to hear it and to see the evil look he got in return.
“What's that?” I sighed and stopped walking, stupidly interested in this new twist.
“Nothing!” the Captain said more to his grunt than to us.
“But they might be able to…”
“I said nothing, Rowland! We can handle it ourselves!” the Captain lashed out at his man.
“Is there something we need to know?” Danielle asked him unhappily.
I was more than willing to let her take the lead for the moment as she was the one who actually seemed to have built a small rapport and was getting somewhere, instead of insulting them like I seemed to have the knack for.
“Guys, you have two more armed men in camo coming in the back,” Blake’s voice suddenly sounded the alarm in our ears.
Shit.
“Who else is with you?” I broke back into the conversation and slid the AK around to my front, replacing the magazine and working the charging handle which caused the tension of everyone in the room to skyrocket.
“No one! Why?” the Captain said a little too quickly.
“You, what’s going on?” I asked, turning to the HK toting militia man named Rowland that had tipped us off. “Talk quick.”
“Fifty yards till they’re at the building,” Blake updated us.
“We uh, we kind of ran into some trouble with the rest of our group and things got all jumbled.”
"Jumbled?" I repeated.
“Rowland!” the Captain said in a loud and obvious warning.
“Shut yer mouth!” the mean guy snarled at Rowland.
“It... it was us that first came here to get supplies and our guys got caught in the kitchen,” he ignored them and said quietly so no one else in the church lobby could hear. “It was one of our guys that killed the old lady. A few of us didn’t like it so we turned on them, but there was still the rest of the group back at the house. They said they'd turn us in, frame us for it. We’ve been working here and taking supplies to them, but we don’t like it. We just have no way out,” he confessed fearfully.
“That’s enough!” the Captain yelled at his subordinate and went to draw his pistol but Danielle beat him to the punch. Knocking away his hand, she doubled the old man over with a quick and brutal kick to the gut. In a flash she had the M1 Carbine reloaded and pointed at the mean guy’s face.
The girl had balls.
“Twenty five yards. I'm moving to get a better view,” Blake relayed the newcomer's whereabouts in our ears.
“Who’s with you?” I asked the big guy, keeping my gun trained on the now very twitchy Boy Scout still awkwardly holding his Mini-14. The shooter on the patio thankfully still had his back turned to us and was completely unaware of the situation.
“The guys here are pretty much on board with the rest of them, I just can’t take it anymore,” Rowland explained, sounding frightened and ashamed.
“Let’s get out of here. This isn’t our mess for once,” I turned to Danielle.
“No one said you were free to go,” The little pain in the ass Boy Scout stuck his head into the fray yet again.
“Oh really…”
“Maybe you should give us your wallets as a bit of collateral,” the kid suggested. His knuckles were white from griping his gun so hard. He was scared shitless and also stupid enough not to back down.
“So you can hit our house, I don’t think so,” Danielle told him flat out.
I was very close to losing my cool with everything and everyone. We needed to smoothly exfil now, or face a real serious problem.
“They’re inside,” Blak
e’s voice confirmed.
“Two more of your buddies are at the back of the chapel and are headed this way. Is there any way out of this without it getting messy?” I quickly asked Rowland.
“Oh crap they’re here?” he asked, his eyes darting around nervously.
“Blake, you still have the new guys in sight?” I asked out loud into the radio’s microphone.
“I’m working on it,” he huffed.
“Clint?”
“I’ve only got a clear view of the one at the front entrance,” Clint responded.
“Shit,” I swore again, out loud this time. Things were moving way too fast. As soon as these other two got within hearing or shouting range of the kid, the asshole, or old guy who was still crumpled up on the floor, all hell was going to break loose and there were a lot of innocent people to get caught up in it.
“Propane! They’re here for the propane! Just let them have it and it’ll be fine!” the Captain said excitedly after regaining his breath. “They were going to cart it off from the barbecues out back during the services. Just let them have it and there won’t be any problems!”
“Captain!” the black haired guy frowned at his superior, then held his tongue when Rowland turned his massive size in his direction.
“Why propane?” Danielle asked him with her carbine still pointed at his brain.
My gut was starting to get a really bad feeling.
“The house they’ve been staying in. It has a propane generator and they’re running low,” he told her angrily.
“Where’s the house?” I asked.
No one spoke up.
“Where. Is. The. House?” I paused at each word.
“Only the kid knows. He’s been the runner ever since we split up into two groups,” Rowland declared.
“Kid, lets you and me have a chat...”
Before I could go any further there was an exclamation from down the hallway. The two raiders had arrived and the scene they found was of their comrades being held at gunpoint. I could hardly blame the reaction of opening fire on us… almost.
“Clint!” I yelled into the radio, knowing that he would immediately be able to give us one less shooter out on the front patio to have to worry about.
Doors slammed, well dressed church goers went running, shrill screams cried out and bodies flew in multiple directions. The noise from their AR15s was deafening in the long enclosed hallway. I ducked away and slammed into the ground as the window behind me was etched with cracked glass. Danielle flung herself down behind a large fake potted fern in the entry way.
Catching the movement at the last second, I saw the young Boy Scout start to raise his Mini-14, only to be swatted away by a powerful hand from the big defector Rowland who then turned on the mean guy and laid him out with one punch.
We were boxed in, pinned down and I had absolutely no plan other than to stand up and get shot when suddenly, glass from the roof rained down across the lobby and the sound of rapid, large caliber gunfire roared out to replace the sound of the ARs from down the hall.
As soon as it had begun, it was over.
There were some panicked and fearful screams randomly coming from inside the sanctuary and a few pieces of glass finally lost their hold and fell, settling noisily to the outdated orange carpet below. Other than the ringing in our ears, it was deathly silent. Dust and smoke hung in the air and the smell of burnt gunpowder assaulted our noses. Through the surge of adrenaline, the thumping of the heartbeat in my ears was the loudest thing I had ever heard.
“Front entry is clear,” Clint finally spoke to us.
“Hallway is clear,” Blake’s voice was superimposed over itself on the radio and above us in person.
That’s when I finally looked up and saw Blake and his FAL, the end of his barrel smoking slightly as it poked through the now destroyed skylight in the ceiling.
“You guys okay in there?” Clint asked over the radio, a twinge of urgency in his voice this time.
“Yeah, we’re good,” I said after making eye contact with Danielle and getting a nod back from her. We picked ourselves up and surveyed the damage. It was a real mess. The cold air was seeping through the broken glass, bullet holes in the drywall, dead guys, blood stains…
“Ah hell,” I looked down at the turncoat named Rowland. He was lying on the ground with unseeing eyes staring back at me. He had caught a stray round from one of his own people and was now dead despite his moral, if not late efforts.
Although, come to think of it, he might not have been the only one that caught a round.
"Your arm? Are you shot?" Danielle's eyed my arm.
"Huh, look at that," I looked down at my right arm and peeked through a new hole in my coat sleeve. I had a nice grazing wound with some meat exposed and a good amount of blood leaking from it. I also noticed that I had managed to jamb my middle finger pretty good. The burning was starting in my arm and my finger was pretty tender, nothing looked or felt broken though.
"Shot? No this is barely a trim. Nowhere near being shot," I bravely downplaying the wound and ignored the voice in my head that was ranting and raving about the son of a bitch that shot me and wow this thing freaking hurts!
“Well this has worked out about as well as everything else does in my life lately,” I said to myself, then remembered that we weren’t alone or done here just yet.
Besides the unconscious guy on the ground, the Boy Scout was there and looked shaken up but otherwise uninjured. He started to craw dumbly towards his gun that was lying a few feet away and my boot caught him with a kick straight to the teeth that sent him sprawling and howling in pain.
Using her gun as an aid to help her stand up, Danielle stuck the muzzle of the M1 Carbine in the Captain’s gut and removed the pistol from his leather shoulder holster. There were sweat droplets on his brow and his chest was rising and falling so rapidly that I was half wondering if he was having a heart attack.
“Where’s the house?” I asked the kid angrily and kicked his Mini and the pistol caliber AR out of reach.
“Screw you man!” he spat blood. I sighed and knelt down next to him. I wasn’t going to give him the “easy way, hard way, or my way” routine, but I was going to get the information I wanted, one way or another.
“Do you know what the little toe does?” I put my face in close to his. “Do you know what its good for? You see it’s a minor toe. It helps with balance, but otherwise it’s really not too critical. If it experiences a trauma, like say, if a bullet blows it off, you won’t even lose that much blood. It’s the infection that gets you. When it goes untreated, the infection is what takes you down. Out here though, it’s not the infection that will kill you, it’s the inability to walk. After long enough you won’t be able to drag yourself to eat or drink anymore. You’ll die hungry of thirst before the infection is bad enough to really kill you. It’s the panic that gets ya,” I mused, waving my hand around absentmindedly for effect.
"Do you know how many doctors we have in here?" his voice cracked.
"We have? There is no ‘we’ and there is no ‘have’ anymore for you bud. Somebody might take pity on you, but you'd have to be a politician’s son to get the right antibiotics from a true medical professional these days. Even then it would cost you everything you’ve got. And from where I’m standing, you don’t have shit… not a good situation to be in, and all from a simple toe wound that could have been avoided.”
"You can stop trying to threaten and scare me, its not going to work!” he yelled at me desperately.
“It ain’t a threat, and you should be scared,” I said as I drew my Glock and pressed it into the kid's chest. “I wouldn't move if I were you,” I advised him. Then with my other hand, I lifted out the tomahawk from his belt sheath.
“I won't say a thing!” he spat defiantly.
I pursed my lips thoughtfully and drove the spike end of the kids own tomahawk into his left foot, then immediately swiveled to aim at the Captain’s body with the pistol in my other han
d as he tried to desperately knock Danielle’s gun away. All the effort earned him was a dislocated knee and split open chin as Danielle stomped a forceful boot into his leg and swung the muzzle of her carbine up into his face.
The kid was writhing and crying in pain in between insults and threats in my general direction. Now that things had quieted down, until his screams renewed the tension, a few of the church goers had started to peak their heads out and see just what was happening.
“What are you doing!” a voice yelled out from an inner office door. A round man came half way out into the hallway before stopping in his tracks as I leveled my pistol at him next.
I was beginning to understand that I didn’t like being shot at and it had seemingly put me in a bad and undiplomatic mood. Any innocent bystanders that had the bad luck to try to interact with me right now were ultimately safe, but unlucky.
“Check your muzzle!” Danielle yelled to me in her hard, drill instructor voice.
“These men were helping us, keeping us safe! What did you do?!” the man from the office asked belligerently.
“They were using you, now back off!” Danielle turned her anger and a little bit of emotion onto him.
The Boy Scout was still clutching at his foot and whimpering, so I turned my attention back in his direction.
“You... you...!” he yelled at me.
“Yeah kid, I’ve currently got a blade in your foot, get over it. Now how many did you have here and how many more are at the house? Talk!" I yelled, driving my knee down onto the tomahawk shaft with its spiked end still embedded into his wounded foot and causing him to cry out in renewed pain.
A few more people were timidly starting to gather around us and Danielle stood up to guard both the Captain and also any well meaning church members that didn’t like my methods.
“Crowd in the sanctuary is getting ugly, it might be time to go,” Blake told us through the radio after looking in through the next set of skylights that helped to light the main chapel.
