“Roger that,” she said, briskly, over the intercom. “Putting the bird onto the roof now.”
Hannah hadn’t messed around – in the instance it had taken Dan to register the scene Hannah had sized up an approach and hit it, hard and fast. She’d taken the UH72 into an aggressive, sweeping bank around the back of the building and Dan was surprised to note that her tight turn had bled most of the helicopter’s energy. They had lost almost all their speed as Hannah continued to drop the Lakota onto the roof of the lower, two storied span in between the larger buildings that now towered over them. Dan felt suddenly insecure – Drake’s men, if they were inside the taller structures, now had the high-ground. He realized, too, that Hannah had been right to make a fast decision and go for it. They still had surprise on their side, and this was, knowing Hannah’s skills as a pilot, the best place to put it down. We have to act, though, Dan knew. Lance was thinking the same. In the few seconds between the gut-wrenching turn and the sudden final descent both men pulled apart their belts and shouldered their 416 carbines. The moment the Lakota’s skids touched the roof both men were slinging themselves out of the airframe and moving at a low halt away from the helicopter. Behind them Hannah halted the aircraft on the roof after it had skidded a few meters – the inevitable result of a hurried touch-down – and then was switching the systems off, switch by switch, as fast as she could.
Dan was racing directly away from the helicopter, his weapon raised to his shoulder, scanning through his sight. He could see either side of the roof they were on, which was flat and level. His mind registered that it must be a reasonably well-used area with easy access, given the upkeep and the small barriers along each side, forming low walls. To his half-right he could make out a figure, holding its arms up and trying to shield its face from the battering wind induced by the beating rotors. Dan didn’t stop, but kept the figure in the centre of his sights as he strode towards it. His feet were sweeping the ground underneath him, carrying him forward in a steady pace. He wasn’t sprinting, but he was nearing the figure quickly. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.
“Who are you?” Dan screamed, trying to make himself heard over the rotor-wash. “Who are you?”
Dan was around five meters away from the figure when he briefly halted. He could see a bloodied hand, and a large, deep red tear on the figures shirt. It looked like his upper body had been savaged. From behind the upraised arm Dan could see a glimpse of a bloodied face and, in that instance, he made up his mind. He fired. Over the noise of the slowing rotors and the engines of the Lakota that were in their wind-down whine, the reports of his suppressed gunshots were drowned out. The figure dropped, crumbling onto the roof into a heap of twisted limbs and a rapidly expanding red pool of blood.
Dan moved his attention back to the building. He raised his point of aim up, scanning the tower above him with the mini-red dot sight on top of his larger, magnified ACOG. He moved the shimmering aiming point from left to right, and then from floor to floor. His gunfire hadn’t roused anyone that he could see.
Dan returned his attention to the building complex in front of him. In the centre of the facade was a glass door.
“I’ve got a door into a main building block. Clear up to the entrance.” Dan’s voice was quiet, but his mike picked up his message and relayed it into Lance’s headset. Hannah would hear it, too, once she had unclipped herself from the pilot’s seat and put on her ground-fighting rig.
“Gotcha,” Lance said by way of reply. Dan almost jumped; the voice carrying over his radio but he could also hear Lance’s softly spoken, gravelly whisper from just behind him. Lance had stacked up next to him, their shoulders pressed against the roof texture of the building.
“Hannah’s two seconds away,” Lance added, and then Dan heard the sounds of a figure and equipment being bundled against the wall. As Hannah spent a seconds getting her helmet done up, Dan mentally rehearsed the next few steps he would take as he prepared to make entry.
It was time. Dan took a deep breath, and then pushed himself off the ground and swung to the door.
***
The door itself was locked, and Dan fought briefly with the handle, fixated at the obstacle. His clearance wasn’t going to plan. Damn it, open! His mind screamed as he continued to jerk at the unyielding bar. Lance moved into him, swiftly moving him aside with his shoulder. Dan covered Lance as he used the stock of his weapon to smash through the glass. After a few seconds he had the reached inside and the door was open. Not quite going to plan, but what the hell.
The interior showed signs of the same panic and violence that had gripped the other buildings they had encountered. Any ghouls or the hacks had obviously been cleared, violently, from the building. It was eerily calm as both men swung their weapons from left to right, and then moved into the room.
Clear. They moved forward, one at a time, covering each other’s bound. Dan scanned the first room, and then Lance moved through and cleared the second. As Dan moved passed Lance towards the next opening he could see, beyond the row of computers and glass dividers that had served as work-spaces and meeting rooms, the stair-well. Every instinct and trained impulse told him to dominate the highest ground available, which meant he needed to find the stairs and clear the top floor. From there he wasn’t sure what they would do, but getting to a place they could control and defend seemed, in the absence of any other idea, the best plan available. He moved swiftly to the open stairs and pushed his shoulder right against the far wall as he peered up to the next landing. Lance stayed next to him, peering down and he could hear someone – Hannah – moving closely behind them, hopefully covering the area from which they came. Dan was about to move forward when Lance’s had touched him on the shoulder. Wait, Dan knew he was indicating. Dan paused, letting his weight lower slightly in his stance, stabilizing his firing position. Beneath them, a floor down, Dan could now hear the noise that Lance had picked up on.
It sounded like a small group were moving in a hurry. They weren’t disciplined and, perhaps because of their urgency, they made no attempt to muffle their voices or keep their conversation down. Dan placed them a few doors away, and as they got closer he made out the essence of their task – find out what had landed on their roof. Dan scanned the upper stair-well quickly for a final few seconds and, satisfied that nothing of imminent danger was peering down at them, silently shifted his HK416’s barrel so it orientated down into the lower level, parallel to Lance’s point of aim.
The first figure through into the stairwell didn’t even look up but took the stairs a bound at a time. At least two men behind him did the same. None of them had their rifles raised or in a firing position – one had what looked like an M4 over his shoulder, while another had a shotgun in his hands, but was carrying it by the barrel. If there were any others coming up behind them Lance didn’t wait to find out, but he called out a brief command. “Halt.”
It was enough to trigger the group below them into a panicked response. The figure closest to them stumbled, swore violently, and moved to raise his weapons. Threshold reached. Engage. Lance was first to fire, unleashing an automatic burst down on top of the group. Dan fired a few single shots at the heads of the figures before they all collapsed, bodies chewed apart by the short fusillade. They were only yards away from them, caught in the centre of their engagement area.
As the sounds of bullets and fragments ricocheting and echoing off the stairs and walls receded Dan could make out some shouting and screaming from the next level down.
“We’re coming for you!” a voice echoed out. Dan replied, briskly with his frustration and anger boiling over into his voice:
“US Army! Back off and lower your weapons!”
The silence that greeted their remark gave them the only answer they would get. Drake’s men had not been expecting the US Army to be in the midst of one of their strongholds – they probably believed Drake when he had said that the US Army no longer existed.
Lance waved at him with one hand, signaling hi
m to begin moving. Dan mounted the stairs to the next landing, cutting an imaginary line with his muzzle across the floor as he neared it.
“Landing clear,” he whispered. Hannah was behind him now, and Lance was at the back. The bandits on the next level down hadn’t followed them up, yet.
“Not sure what is up ahead,” Dan said, “but I figure we get to the top and make an assessment from there.”
“This is it,” Lance said in reply. “Pretty sure they are broadcasting from the top of this structure. Didn’t you see the additional wires and aerials linked out the windows above us?”
Dan’s chest heaved underneath his plate carrier. No, he thought to himself, I damn well didn’t see where we were going. I was just following instinct. No wonder Lance and Hannah had moved to him when he was by the doorway. They needed to keep moving, so Dan only muttered, between deep breaths, “OK,” before he crossed the landing and turned up the next flight of stairs.
“Landing clear,” he called back for a second time, and raised his head to see how many further flights they had to cover. The combination of constant hits of adrenaline and now the flights of stairs had almost drained him completely. He felt tired and exhausted, but he made an effort to move with purpose. One last flight of stairs, he told himself. Speed, aggression, surprise. That was everything right now.
Dan reached the final landing and swept into it, his rifle raised and ready. His immediate front was clear and he pivoted towards the second of two doorways. Lance paused behind him as he took a few steps forward, his eyes searching and probing the corridor in front of him. He saw doors leading off into rooms, and some furniture – “BEHIND YOU!” Lance screamed, his words blocking out Dan’s scanning and sending a massive surge of energy into his body. His muscles tensed out of reflex, and he prepared to throw himself back against the wall the instant Lance’s scream registered. His whole body was rigid and poised to move when the barrage of gunfire encompassed his position. Everything around Dan seemed to slow down to a crawl as the explosions blunted his hearing, plunging his mind into a ringing and muted world. The wall next to his arm exploded in a few sharp fragments of plaster and wood as it was chewed apart by the first few bullets, and then he felt a jack-hammer sensation smash into his back, throwing him forward. As he tumbled towards the ground he caught a glimpse of the wall, right where he had been, explode in three or four miniature jets of debris and dust, and then his face was pressed against the ground, his back aching and throbbing and his lungs screaming for air, temporarily winded.
He couldn’t hear or see what was happening behind him but there was more gunfire – it sounded like it was miles away, coming from both the stairwell, where Lance had been, and further behind Dan, from where the original bursts had come from. Dan’s head spun as his lips gasped for air, spitting saliva and blood onto the floor. The world was starting to slow its spinning around him and the physical sensations he had noted as being distant and unworldly returned to his body in a sudden rush. His chest was burning and heaving but oxygen was returning to his lungs. The throbbing in his back was constant, but he had feeling in his legs and his arms.
I’m OK, I’m going to be OK, he told himself. Spit and blood continued to dribble from his mouth – split lip, he registered, and that won’t kill me. The roar of the world had returned to him in its full force, and another gunshot behind him pulled his mind back to his surroundings. I’ve been shot, and there is still a threat behind me. Whatever he was feeling, it would be worse if he gave their assailant more time. He went to roll onto his side and felt his HK416, still slung, caught awkwardly underneath him oppose his movement.
OK, no rifle. Go to your secondary. His right hand reached down and swept across his right hip as he rolled, his fingers feeling for and then drawing his Sig Sauer pistol out of the holster. He was now on his left hand side, able to look back over his feet at the opposite side of the landing. Someone he didn’t recognize was crouching down behind an overturned desk in a doorway, and he was looking down an assault rifle. Dan’s vision zeroed in on the figure and focused on his chest as his pistol swam into view. He hesitated for an instant until the three glowing tritium dots of his pistol’s sights were lined up on the figure and then he pulled the trigger back repeatedly, expending his entire magazine of 9mm rounds into the doorway as quickly as he could.
Dan paused, and breathed deeply. He was lying awkwardly on the floor on his side, his arms shaking from the weight of the pistol – it shouldn’t be that heavy – and from the pain and panic – OK, that’s probably the main reason. Get yourself under control. His back was still throbbing in time with his heart, but he kept his focus on the doorway. The figure he had aimed at was slumped back, head forwards, rifle dropped into his lap. Dan breathed deeply, and then made a conscious effort to release the expended pistol mag, pull another one out of his vest and ram it home. By the time he had finished he was sitting up, leaning back against the wall with his 416 across his lap.
“Are you OK?” Hannah called, from the top of the stairwell. She was crouched down over Lance, and Dan could barely see more than their heads and shoulders over the stairs.
Dan grimaced as he called back, his lungs still hurting from the sudden winding,
“Yep, I guess. Think my back plate took a round.”
“OK, good,” Hannah replied, distractedly. Lance groaned, loudly but coherently, at the same time. He was stifling a curse
“Lance is hit, but not bad. Looks like he caught a round to his front plate, too, but he also has taken a round in the thigh. Nothing bad, and the artery is intact, and I’m just putting on a bandage now.”
Lance groaned again, and Dan could hear him calling the world a mother-fucker. Understandably.
Dan kept watch over the landing as he replaced his reloaded pistol into his holster and gripped his HK416. He stayed slumped back up against the wall. Tactically it was a terrible position, but he didn’t feel either the will-power or the energy to move. Just a few minutes here, he quietly asked of the universe.
“OK, bleeding is stopped. Looks like a clean wound, too, with a pretty small exit hole in the flesh. Nothing to worry about long-term.”
“Damned fucking stairs,” Lance groaned, his voice returning to normal as he regained his composure.
“Dan, have you got the top floor covered?” It was clear that Lance was still talking through clenched teeth.
“Yeah, for what it’s worth. How about you come up and take over, and I’ll go find this broadcast station.”
Hannah helped Lance as he used his arms to pull himself to the top step, and then left him propped up against the wall, his rifle back in his hands. Dan could see that he had split his lip, too. Hazards of fighting in someone else’s building, I guess. One of the many.
Hannah quickly checked over Dan and then helped haul him to his feet.
“You OK?” she asked a second time.
“OK enough,” was his response. He took a few steps forward, shuffling his feet, and found it easier than he had imagined. He needed to man up and get back into the fight.
“Hannah, keep the corridors covered. Lance, I won’t be long.”
Dan moved to where their assailant had fallen and kicked his rifle away. The man was still alive, gargling. He might even survive with some medical help, Dan though absent-mindedly as he placed that thought on his mental to-do list, after he’d secured the area and found the broadcasting station.
Behind the man was an empty room, with a few sleeping bags on the floor and some boxes of camping food stashed on a table. Getting close, Dan knew. There was an open door leading off from the room through which light was pouring in. A window. Bingo.
Dan didn’t know what to expect as he stepped over the sleeping bags and neared the doorway. He was about to step into through and clear the room when something in his mind held him back. Instead he kicked a nearby chair in a sudden clatter into the opening, watching it as it slid into the doorframe. All up it was an illogical decision, cluttering up his
entryway, but something had nagged at his mind and doing so felt right. As the chair slid to a halt a single shot rang out from inside the room. Dan didn’t see where it went, but he didn’t need to.
Change of plans. He dug into his vest and, after checking his pouches, pulled out a flashbang. He had to mentally restrain himself from calling “flash out,” as he tossed it around the corner, before pulling his head back and looking away. No need risking his own senses as it went off.
There was a pregnant pause as he waited, hearing the stun grenade clatter inside the room, and then the otherwise tranquil afternoon was seared apart in a split-second cacophony of light and noise. Dan felt the wall shake slightly and could hear an unexpected scream from within. He moved, nowhere as fast as normal but as fast as his body allowed him, into the doorway and then through, into the dust-filled interior.
It was light inside, with the smoke from the stun-grenade catching the rays beaming through the window. On one side of the room were a series of machines and hardware stations linked together, with a few chairs in front of them. Back in the far corner, a matter of meters from Dan, was a skinny man in his twenties who was shielding his eyes and groping around him as he slid against the corner walls. In front of him, dropped at his feet, was a pistol. Dan paused and took the figure in. He wasn’t an immediate threat. The pistol was within his reach, but he wasn’t in any position to grab it. Dan knew he could, realistically, restrain the man. He could kick the pistol aside, and smash the shit out of his legs and then crack him in the face, putting him out for at least a few minutes.
But something had changed inside Dan. He’d just thrown his entire life on the line for the mission, and he had no idea who this man was in front of him. He was part of the enemy. He had just tried to kill him, however incompetently, with his pistol. Dan felt no sympathy and saw no need to risk his life or his mission to spare this man’s future. He was here to achieve his task, and he wasn’t going to let anyone stand in the way, not when he was this close. Dan knew that here, in this room, he was the alpha. The ghouls where outside, held at bay by the building they had just stormed. Drake’s men were close by, but they had being held off. They had fought hard to get to this position and he wasn’t about to throw that away through a moment of weakness. Dan sighted the man’s head through his mini-red dot sight and fired.
Apex Fallen Page 27
