by Bobby Akart
After Duncan issued his orders, he joined Espy near the gate. “Did you make contact with the teams?”
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “I’ve recalled the three units deployed to the substations, and they are en route back here. What should I do about the detachment sent downtown?”
“Let them help protect the civvies,” said Duncan. “Let’s lend an assist to our brothers inside and hold down the fort until the cavalry arrives.”
Duncan and Espy bolted out of the utility yard and rounded the corner, staying close to the wall. Five pickup trucks faced the building. Only two sets of headlights were still illuminating the building, but it was sufficient to give Duncan a view to the entrance. Some of the attackers lay dead in the grass near their trucks while others had never made it out of the front seats.
“Looks like we’ve notched a few kills,” whispered Espy as they approached the first window.
“Espy, we’ve got to watch out for friendly fire,” admonished Duncan. Entering a firefight in the close confines of a building, without the benefit of night vision and comms, was suicidal. He wanted to help his men, but he wasn’t interested in them killing their commander by mistake.
“You’re right, sir,” said Espy. “We can’t go in there and announce our presence either. The hostiles will identify us and take us out. Either way, we’re on the wrong end of this battle.”
Duncan inched forward to the first window to try to get a look at what was happening inside. The hallway was darkened, and he couldn’t hear any signs of activity. He threw himself back against the wall out of frustration.
“Espy, this is what a rock and a hard place looks like,” he finally said to his loyal aide. “We’ve got the bogies trapped inside, and help is on the way. We need our people to hold down the fort without us.”
“That sucks,” Espy said in frustration. “I feel like I wanna do something to help our guys.”
“Well, we could help them with a distraction,” said Duncan. “Let’s work our way behind these trucks and shoot out the front tires. It might draw some of them out in a panic only to find their means of escape has been compromised. We’ll pick ’em off as they do.”
“Yes, sir,” added Espy. “Even if it doesn’t draw them out, they’ll know they’re trapped inside with no means of escape. That turns many a soldier into a state of panic.”
“Which leads to deadly mistakes,” added Duncan. “Let’s get started.”
Using the commandos’ pickup trucks as cover, they quickly moved from one tailgate to another, shooting out the front tires as they went. As they did so, apparently drawing the attention of all involved, the gunfire inside the buildings ceased. Within several minutes, they’d turned the corner of the administration building entrance when they caught a glimpse of two men crawling out of Duncan’s office window.
Throwing caution to the wind, Espy raced toward them with his weapon raised, keeping the North Koreans in his sights. They swung in his direction but were immediately ripped into by Espy’s deadly aim.
Duncan finished shooting out the tires, and the two men found a spot behind the truck that had crashed through the front entrance.
“You take the Cedar Avenue side of the buildings, and I’ll take Regis Street,” ordered Duncan. “Our guys will know better than to come through those windows.”
“Hey, the gunfire is dying down,” said Espy. “They’re saving their ammo until they have a clear—”
Another explosion rocked the night, forcing the two men to the ground.
“Where?” asked a stunned Espy.
“The utility yard! Come on!” shouted Duncan as he leapt out of his crouch and ran along the back side of the disabled pickups.
“What about the front?” asked Espy as he was slow to react.
“Forget it for now,” Duncan said as he continued running with his rifle at low ready. “We’ve gotta help Herrera and Page!”
Espy hustled to follow his commander, periodically glancing at the front windows for any attackers attempting to escape.
Duncan ran along the tall wall that surrounded the utility yard when he heard the sound of doors slamming and the attackers’ trucks starting.
They’re escaping!
Out of breath from carrying his extra gear, Duncan sucked in fresh air and pressed forward in a race to beat the pickups to the rear gate. He heard them on the other side of the wall as they accelerated. They were pulling away, but he ran as fast as he could, hoping to get off a few shots to stop them.
He was losing the race. The trucks were well ahead of him now, and he caught a glimpse of them as they bounced through the adjacent fields and hit Cedar Avenue, causing their tires to squeal as they made the transition from dirt to asphalt.
Duncan fired wildly in their direction, but they were out of range as they headed northward in the direction of the airport. He bent over and rested on his knees to catch his breath when Espy caught up to him.
“Sir, the other teams will be here shortly. Should I send them in pursuit?”
“No, let’s take care of the ones we have trapped,” replied Duncan, and then a feeling of dread came over him. “Dammit. Herrera and Page.”
Duncan got his second wind and raced into the utility yard, where smoke was pouring out of a gaping hole near the wrecker. The blast he’d heard must’ve been made with the same type of explosives they’d used to break in, only this time they’d created a new exit.
Espy raced past Duncan to where the body of Private Page lay near the blown-out wall. Espy felt for a pulse and lowered his head. Duncan immediately peeled off to the other side of the wrecker, which had been lifted up in the air and moved over several feet.
Corporal Herrera was lying on the ground in a pool of her own blood. Her face had been ripped open by flying debris, and she had a shoulder wound, which Duncan quickly applied pressure to.
“Herrera, are you with me?” asked Duncan. He heard Espy’s phone ring behind him.
“Yessir. It caught me by surprise. They didn’t try to get out, and then the wall exploded, and I was knocked to the ground. I lost my weapon and tried to draw my sidearm, but they shot me from under the wrecker. I’m sorry, Commander.”
Duncan grimaced as he used his shemagh to wipe the blood from the pretty young woman’s face. Once upon a time, the miracles of plastic surgery could restore her beauty. As he’d just learned, Texas had just entered a new period in which once upon a time was truly for fairy tales.
Chapter 37
January 21
Camp Lubbock
Lubbock, Texas
After an hour-long battle with the North Korean commandos, Duncan and his men finally regained control of their facility. He didn’t second-guess his decision to chase after the fleeing pickup full of men. They would have been miles away by the time his teams returned to Camp Lubbock, and there was no guarantee the attackers intended to continue north. Besides, he needed to help his own men and prevent anyone else from escaping.
“What did the medic say about Corporal Herrera?” Duncan asked Espy as he took a seat in his office. Two privates had just completed sweeping out the broken glass and making the space usable for their commander.
“She lost a lot of blood, but we have a seasoned combat medic,” replied Espy. “He used Celox to stop the bleeding and was pleased to report the round went through and out the back side of her shoulder. She suffered minimal damage to her muscles although her range of motion might be limited after she heals.”
“What about her face?”
“They’re gonna take her to the University Medical Center when the sun comes out. He hopes they have backup generators operating and a plastic surgeon available to work on her. He didn’t say much other than that.”
Duncan shook his head in disgust. Anger began to swell inside him, but he needed to finish hearing Espy’s report. “Casualties?”
“Commander, we lost the eight personnel at the front gate and another four inside the building after the frontal assault. We di
dn’t lose anyone at the substations or the sheriff’s office.”
Thirteen of his own, dead. He would second-guess his decision making for days and weeks to come. For now, he wanted to focus on what they’d found out about the commandos.
“Espy, what was the final body count on the North Koreans?”
“Seventeen, sir. We have two captives, one of whom took a bullet to the thigh. The other surrendered willingly.”
Duncan nodded his head continuously, contemplating what to do next. He had a pretty good idea of what was in store for his captives, but he needed to contact Fort Hood and his superiors.
“Espy, have you coordinated a conference call with the brass?”
“I tried, sir, but there’s chaos from one end of the country to the other. The information I received from my counterpart at Hood was that similar coordinated attacks took place on transformers throughout the ERCOT system. I was told the entire grid was taken down, and they expect it will be long-lasting.”
“Any other attacks on armories like ours?” Duncan asked.
“No, sir. Of course, information is still slowly coming in to QRF command, but it appears all the other operations were quick hits and clandestine. Only two power plants involved explosives. All the others were relatively straightforward attacks on substations, following the same MO as here in Lubbock.”
“No reported armory attacks?” asked Duncan again, this time with a curious inflection in his voice.
“No, sir. I’m kinda surprised by that, sir.”
Duncan studied his aide in the low light provided by the lantern. “What’s your opinion, Espy?”
“Well, and again, I realize my contact at Fort Hood said information is still streaming in, but why did they take down our grid and attempt to hit the armory? Also, looking back at how it happened, there was extensive planning and recon employed.”
“Agreed,” started Duncan. “They timed it down to the minute. They knew how far away the substations were. They assumed we’d keep back a basic security contingent and utilized an RPG attack to force us to respond. They even knew where the back entrance to the armory was.”
“They’ve been watching us for some time,” interjected Espy.
“I believe so, too. Have you separated the prisoners as I requested?”
“Yes, sir. They are bound and gagged, sitting in adjacent rooms alone. I’ve not allowed any contact between them and our personnel. As you can imagine, sir, I’m having trouble keeping them alive, if you know what I mean.”
“Fully,” quipped Duncan. “Did you retrieve the things I asked for?”
“Yessir. They’re on the table behind the injured prisoner. He’s not aware of what is behind him.”
“Let’s go,” said Duncan as he pushed himself out of his chair. He opened the snap on his holster and removed his sidearm, placing it on the corner of his desk as he walked around it. He also removed his shirt, which had his name and rank embroidered on the front, tossing it on his cot.
The two men walked down a dark hallway leading toward the mess hall. He instructed Espy to clear that section of the complex of all personnel. Further, Espy was to stand guard outside the doors and make sure nobody attempted to eavesdrop on Duncan’s interrogation.
Just as Duncan was about to enter the room with the injured prisoner, Duncan calmly whispered in Espy’s ear, “Do not come in this room no matter what you think you hear. And when this is over, you’ll forget it. Are we clear?”
“Yes, Commander,” replied Espy.
Duncan lowered his voice further, and he squinted his eyes as he spoke. His mouth was inches away from Espy’s ear. “I’m no longer your commander, Espy. I quit.”
He left a shocked Espy standing alone in the hallway as he entered the first interrogation room.
Chapter 38
January 21
Camp Lubbock
Lubbock, Texas
Duncan Armstrong possessed many skills, including a stone-cold heart when necessary. Over time, he’d perfected the art of torture. The highly effective waterboarding method was not one of his favorite tools. Its strength relied primarily on the psychological fear of the tortured prisoner. A captive could prepare himself mentally and fight waterboarding sessions for days or even weeks. Duncan was too impatient for that.
He wanted answers, now.
He entered the room and didn’t say a word for several minutes, both to intimidate the prisoner and to give Espy time to clear the hallway. Per his request, candles flickered in the corners of the room flanking the door, thereby casting a large shadow of Duncan on the wall across from the bound man.
Duncan was ready to begin. He walked around the desk, which contained the tools of torture. Each of the devices and instruments were designed to systematically inflict more pain on the prisoner until he agreed to answer Duncan’s questions. Then it would be up to Duncan, the interrogator, to discern if the man was telling the truth.
Duncan towered over the seated commando and stared him down. The prisoner’s tough exterior came from years of training. Kudos to the North Korean for not buckling under already from the leg wound he’d suffered. He’d been shot in the top of his thigh, and his pants were soaked with blood.
One of Duncan’s men had used a combat tourniquet above the wound to keep him from bleeding out. That same tourniquet would accidentally break loose if the prisoner didn’t cooperate, go into shock from Duncan’s other techniques, or die during the conversation.
Duncan pulled one of his knives out of his pocket and inserted it between the gag affixed to his prisoner’s face and mouth. Duncan made no attempt to avoid cutting the commando in the process, causing a fairly deep wound to be carved into his cheek before it reached the bone. The prisoner winced as blood streamed down his face, but his angry eyes remained locked with Duncan’s.
“I thought that might make it easier for you to speak. Tell me what I want to hear, and I’ll get the medic in here to treat the wound. Simple enough, right?”
The man stared back and didn’t respond.
Duncan leaned forward and yelled, “Right?”
“Screw you!” the prisoner responded and spit in Duncan’s direction but missed his face as Duncan quickly avoided the attempt. He did provide the prisoner a punishment for his effort.
Duncan drew back his right arm as if he were going to slash the prisoner with his knife. The man’s eyes followed the weapon and never saw the second knife being retrieved from Duncan’s pants. With a quick move, Duncan drove the circular butt end of the knife into the man’s nose, causing cartilage to break and blood to fly across the prisoner’s face.
“Next time, I’ll use the other end and rip that nose right off your head!”
The prisoner tried in vain to reach his shoulder to wipe the blood off his face. He finally opted for shaking his head, and with a considerable painful effort, he exhaled through both nostrils to clear his airways of blood.
“There, feel better?” asked Duncan sarcastically. “Thank you for letting me know you speak English. Let’s start talking, gook.” Duncan used a word he despised, but it was necessary for a torturer to humiliate his captive as well as threaten them with increased pain.
“Like I said,” the prisoner growled as he snorted more blood out of his broken nose, “screw you!”
Duncan immediately rammed his fist into the man’s leg wound, causing him to scream at the top of his lungs in pain. Duncan now knew the man had a threshold for pain that could be overcome. He just needed to push the right buttons.
“Whadya want from me? I know nothing!”
“Your English is pretty good, gook. Where ya from?” Duncan began to circle his prisoner, causing the man’s head to swivel in an attempt to follow him. After walking around the table, Duncan returned around the other side with a pair of Vise-Grip locking pliers.
The man’s eyes grew wide, and he began to babble. “California, man. I’m from California. I don’t know these guys. I just kinda hooked up with ’em in a bar one night
, and everything went bad.”
“Oh, so you’re not part of their group, just an innocent bystander. Just along for the ride? Is that what you want me to believe?”
“Yeah, man. It’s totally true. I’m not even North Korean like those others.”
“Liar!” shouted Duncan as he adjusted the pliers to the proper width and immediately clamped them on the man’s nose, squeezing the handle to lock them tight.
The man let out a bloodcurdling scream and began to shake his head wildly from side to side in an attempt to force the Vise-Grips off his crushed nose. The harder he shook, the more painful it became as the locking pliers smacked both sides of his face.
“Please. Take it off. Take it off. I’ll tell the truth.”
Duncan nodded. “Fair enough. Hold your head still.”
The prisoner began to cry, and he held his head perfectly still, waiting for Duncan to remove the pliers. He didn’t expect what happened next.
Rather than releasing the locking mechanism on the handle, Duncan just ripped the pliers off the man’s nose. The shock of the brutal pain caused the man’s eyes to widen and his mouth to shout in agony. He immediately began to scream for help. He begged anyone to please rescue him from this maniac.
But nobody came to his rescue. In fact, by the level of noise this guy was making, the entirety of Camp Lubbock could hear even if they weren’t in the hallway with Espy.
“How many are with you?”
“Over twenty, maybe less now.”
“Who’s your leader? And what’s his rank?”
“His name is Holloway, but he doesn’t have a rank. We’re not with the commandos. I mean, we were, but we all were part of a gang in LA. Holloway is former military. U.S. Army, I think.”
“What’s his first name?”
“Man, I don’t know. Seriously. He’s never said his first name. All I know is he hates the Army because they wouldn’t let him fight after he lost his eye.”
