by Dirk Patton
“Go down there, take Dog with you, and get his weapons. Be sure you circle around and never get in my line of fire. Approach him from the side so you’re in the clear if I have to shoot.” I said to Rachel, then remembered her concussion. “You up to it? Feeling OK?”
“I’m fine,” she answered, called Dog and headed to a set of steps a few yards away that led down into the parking lot.
Rachel stayed well to my right, the man’s left as she circled around, Dog right at her side. She paused at the pickup to take a look at the man I’d shot, then continued on behind the truck and crossed to his right before approaching.
“She’s going to disarm you,” I called out to him. “If you so much as blink I’ll blow your fucking head off. If I miss, that dog will tear your throat out. Now stand very still.”
He didn’t even nod, just remained frozen as Rachel approached. When she was still four feet away Dog moved directly in front of him, his muzzle less than a foot from the man’s crotch and stood staring up at him. Leaning in, Rachel extended her arm all the way out, moved his hand off the pistol and pulled it out of the holster. Pistol secured in her waistband at the small of her back she glanced up at me and I walked to the stairs and down to them, the rifle never wavering off the man’s head. I stopped ten feet in front of him and made him lay face down in the parking lot so I could search him.
Dog moved to stand with his jaws just inches from his head and I slung my rifle before stepping in and kneeling on the man’s lower back, swiftly running my hands over his body to check for other weapons. I found a small .380 automatic pistol in his left cargo pocket, a four inch knife in a sheath on his right forearm hidden under the uniform, and another knife inside his left boot. Slipping the pistol into my pocket, I handed the knives to Rachel and flipped him over to search his front but he wasn’t carrying anything else. I released the chin strap for the riot helmet and pulled it off his head, handing that to Rachel as well, thinking it might be good for her to wear to protect her head.
“So, you’re not a cop. How did you know we were here and what did you want with us?” He was still on his back and I had my left knee applying pressure on his chest. Dog stood with his muzzle only inches from the man’s face and as the rain washed the blood out of his fur some of the red tinged water fell on his forehead and ran down into his eyes. Rachel stood a dozen feet away, rifle in her hands as she kept an eye out for any threats.
“We were just trying to help you! Why did you shoot…” I hit him hard with the side of my hand, directly onto the bridge of his nose which broke from the blow. Thank God for the anesthetic Rachel had shot me up with or I would probably have hurt myself worse than I hurt him. He groaned and turned his head to the side as blood started pouring out of his nose, starting to raise his hands to his face but freezing when Dog bared his fangs and growled.
“This is the last time I’m going to ask you,” I said in a low, even voice. “How did you know and why did you want us?”
“We saw you break into the warehouse and waited. We didn’t want you.” He sputtered and turned his head to spit blood out of his mouth. “We were here for her.”
I have to say I wasn’t terribly surprised at his answer. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Rachel turn her head and look at him for a moment before resuming watch on the area.
“What did you want with her?” I doubted I would be surprised by his answer.
“There’s a bunch of us that are getting ready to head up into the hills. We need women. Someone’s got to keep the human race going.” He said the last like a mantra that he’d heard repeated over and over. Looking away in disgust I met Rachel’s eyes. I knew what she was thinking without even having to ask because I was thinking the same thing.
“How many women has your group taken?” I leaned in, the top of my head brushing Dog’s nose. He gulped, choosing to swallow the blood still pouring from his nose this time.
“About 10,” he stammered out.
“Where are they?”
“Man, I can’t tell you… whoa, hold on…” I had drawn my Ka-Bar and pressed the point into the soft tissue under his jaw. His eyes were as big as saucers as he looked into mine, probably trying to decide if I would really kill him if he didn’t talk. “There’s a warehouse, about a mile down this road right here. That’s where we’re gettin’ things ready to move out. That’s where they are, now don’t hurt me again.” Right choice.
Grabbing his arm I looked at the cheap digital watch he was wearing. It was 2215. We had less than two hours to get to the train. Pulling the watch off his wrist I slipped it onto mine, sheathed the blade and stood up. Dog took a couple of steps back and the man felt safe enough to raise his hands up to feel his broken nose. I looked around as Rachel stepped up on the other side of him, shooed Dog away then fired a single round into his head. She stood staring down at him for a few moments before clicking her rifle onto safe and letting it hang on its sling.
“We don’t need people like this in the world anymore.” She gave me a challenging look, perhaps expecting me to argue with her or exclaim that she’d just shot a defenseless man. I thought she knew me better than that.
“No argument here. You beat me to the shot.” I said, walking over to check the pickup the two dead men had arrived in.
18
The man I’d shot lay in a crumpled heap in the rain, face shield shattered where my bullet had gone through before scrambling his brains for him. The shotgun was still gripped in his right hand and I pried it loose to check the load. Seven shells with 00 buckshot were ready to go and he’d been close enough to blow a hole the size of a trash can lid right through us. Making sure the safety was on I stowed the shotgun in the small Nissan pickup, waved Dog into the tight space behind the seats and shouted to Rachel to strip the body armor off the man she had shot. I started doing the same with mine.
I was going to try and get to the women these guys and their friends had kidnapped and I felt it was a pretty safe assumption that if these guys were decked out in riot gear then so were their buddies. Pulling the last of it off the body I shrugged out of the packs, depositing them in the bed of the truck and started trying to adjust the armor to fit my much larger frame. After a degree of frustration and cursing I had it all on and went to help Rachel get the unfamiliar gear strapped on and fitting reasonably well.
The armor was police issue and of decent quality and would certainly stop most handgun rounds as well as rifle rounds if the distance was great enough, but it didn’t make us invincible by a long shot. I spent a couple of minutes explaining this to Rachel and making sure she understood. I was also paying close attention to her as I spoke and was relieved to see her grasping what I was saying and responding appropriately. I had no doubt the concussion was still affecting her, and she probably had one hell of a headache, but at least she was functioning again. Armor in place I ripped the broken face shield off the helmet and tried to fit it over my head but it was about two sizes too small. Oh well, I wanted it for appearances more than protection as it wouldn’t stop a bullet. Tossing it away I started to turn to climb in the truck but Rachel stopped me with a hand on my arm.
“You’re still bleeding.” She observed, squinting at my head and neck in the dark. I reached up to touch my wounds and my hand came away with blood on it that was quickly washed off by the rain.
“It’s just the rain, keeping it from clotting. No big veins or arteries. If there had been I’d be gone by now.”
“We need to bandage you up.”
“Later,” I said, moving her to the passenger side of the truck and holding the door for her. “When we’re safely on the train. Time is short and if we’re going to help those women we have to get moving.”
Rachel nodded and climbed into the truck. I walked around the hood and climbed behind the wheel, slammed the door, put the truck in gear and headed for the road. I was glad the warehouse where the women were being held was close as well as on our way to the train. It was now 2231 and I was getting a
little nervous about making it in time.
I drove slowly, without any lights showing. I didn’t want anyone at the warehouse to see us coming. The rain and dark shrank the world around us and I could only see a few yards beyond the front of the truck which forced me to keep our speed just above an idle. There were a couple of wrecks I had to steer around then had to hop the median to get around a utility pole that had fallen across the roadway.
I shifted into neutral and let the truck roll to a stop without touching the brakes when we came around a curve. Several vehicles with running lights on were parked next to a medium sized warehouse. The warehouse itself was lit and light spilled out through open doors into the parking lot, revealing several men loading boxes into the back of a large pickup. I pulled out my knife and used the pommel to shatter the dome light so I could open the door without giving away our presence. Setting the parking brake I popped my door open and stepped out, bringing my rifle up to use the night scope. A slow scan of the area to include the roof of the warehouse didn’t spot any lookouts. More amateurs. There was a group of them, they were armed and probably used to pushing people around. They didn’t think someone would come along and mess with them.
The warehouse was only a couple of hundred yards away from our position and I decided not to risk driving any closer. Shutting the truck off I put the keys on top of the rear tire, made sure Rachel knew where they were and waved her and Dog out of the truck. I made another scan of our target, then scanned 360 degrees around us, still seeing no one on sentry duty and no threats to our rear. Shrugging into our packs, we went over to the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street and started moving towards the building. As we walked I frequently used the scope to check the area and also to get a feel for the movement patterns of the men.
As we closed the distance I started picking up the sounds of idling engines that had been masked by the sizzling sound the rain made when it hit the asphalt. These guys were getting ready to leave. Between our time constraint from trying to catch the train and their imminent departure this was not a good tactical situation. There was no time to get a headcount, find out what types of weapons we would be facing, any of the number of things I would have liked to do before going in. We didn’t even know where they were keeping the women.
The fickle little gods of war must have decided to take pity on me for as soon as I had the thought about the women I spotted them. An Army surplus deuce-and-a-half with a canvas cover over the cargo area was idling in the parking lot and I happened to be looking right at it when one of the men walked up to it and shined a flashlight in the back. The light was only on for a few moments, but that was long enough for me to see several women with terrified expressions on their faces and the lone guard sitting at the back. He was armed with what looked like some sort of assault rifle but was handling it sloppily, holding it by the barrel just a couple of inches below the muzzle. The man with the flashlight had a brief conversation with the guard then put the canvas flap back in place and went back into the warehouse.
I spent a couple of minutes outlining for Rachel what I had in mind and she eagerly agreed. Rushing into a situation with absolutely no intel and with a clock ticking in the back of your head is never good, but it was go now or watch them drive away any minute. We crossed the street, heading directly for the back of the truck. I stayed to Rachel’s left and moved Dog to my left. As we drew closer I could hear male voices shouting back and forth inside the warehouse. Pausing Rachel with my hand I made another scan of the area with my scope, this time spotting a lone figure at the far end of the parking lot. He was sheltering from the rain under a shallow overhang and staring off into space. I could make out a holstered pistol and a bolt action hunting rifle slung over his slumped shoulders.
He hadn’t been there the last time I’d scanned, I was sure of that, but didn’t bother dwelling on it. He had probably been around the corner taking a piss, or just looking for a different view. Few things in life are as mind-numbingly boring as sentry duty.
“This is about to get bloody.” I said to Rachel, maintaining my aim on the sentry. “Are you sure you’re in?”
“I have had it with men thinking because the world is falling apart that they can just take a woman and do whatever they want to her. Fuck them. They made their choice, now they’ve got to pay the price.” Rachel’s voice was harder than I’d ever heard it. I suppose if I was a psychologist or psychiatrist, whatever the difference is, I would have been able to articulate how Rachel’s trauma in Georgia was affecting her now, but I’m not. I am, however, smart enough to understand the connection. Besides, I happened to agree with her. Every time I thought about my wife in Arizona I said a little silent prayer that she hadn’t fallen victim to some assholes like these.
“OK, here we go.” I said and squeezed the rifle’s trigger. The sentry dropped like I’d cut the strings that were holding him up when my bullet shattered his skull, the heavy rain masking any sounds the body made falling to the ground. I scanned again, re-checked the roof and finding nothing started us moving. We walked straight to the back of the truck and I positioned myself to the side as Rachel stepped up to the canvas flap and pulled it open.
“Please, help me. Can you help me?” She was good, putting just the right tone of ‘helpless female’ in her voice.
“What the hell?” I heard scrambling from inside and then the guard stuck his head out of the opening to look at Rachel. He hadn’t bothered to raise his rifle to protect himself, and I didn’t hesitate to strike.
Lunging forward I buried all eight inches of the Ka-Bar into his throat, grabbed his collar with my other hand and yanked the body out of the truck. I maintained my grip on him all the way to the ground, the steel blade in his throat ensuring he couldn’t call out for help. Withdrawing the blade I changed its angle and stabbed up into his head, slicing into his brain. Cleaning the blade on his jacket I sheathed it and checked the area again with my rifle. Three men with boxes loaded in their arms were coming out of the warehouse, headed for one of the parked pickups.
“Get in there and make sure they stay quiet. We may have a problem here.” I said to Rachel as I tracked the three men. I heard her scramble up into the cargo area and start talking to the women in a low voice. Dog was at my side, shoulder pressed to my hip and ready to run or fight, whatever I needed him to do.
The three men had come out of the warehouse door and turned to their left. There were three trucks parked in that direction, and if they were going to the closest one I probably had nothing to worry about. But if they went to the second or third they would very likely spot the body of the sentry I had shot. They were laughing and talking as they walked, not paying attention to their surroundings and went right past the first truck, then the second and up to the third where they set the boxes down in the bed and started packing them in place. The sentry’s body was ten feet from them, but they were so absorbed in their conversation that they hadn’t noticed it.
Finishing what they were doing, all three turned to go back into the warehouse. As one they froze when they saw the body and I didn’t wait to engage. Pulling the trigger I shot the one on the left in the back of the head, the body pitching forward onto the pavement. I had already shifted aim and fired my second round before the first body hit the ground and the second man went down without even having a chance to start moving. Unfortunately the third guy had better reflexes and had started to move when I fired, my bullet hitting him but not fatally. He disappeared behind one of the pickups and started screaming for help. A heartbeat later there were shouts from within the warehouse, and it sounded like a lot of men.
19
I quickly moved to the front corner of the idling truck, resting my rifle across the hood and sighting in on the open warehouse door. It didn’t take long for running figures, weapons in hand, to appear and I started dropping them as fast as I could acquire them in my scope. Three of them went down, permanently, before the rest realized what was happening and scrambled for cover.
They started sticking rifles and pistols around the door frame and firing, but their shots weren’t aimed and my odds of winning the lottery were probably better than their odds of hitting me. One guy kept sticking his whole arm around the doorway at the same spot to fire a round from his pistol, and after his third shot I was ready for him and drilled a round through his forearm as soon as it appeared. The pistol fell to the ground and I could hear his screams over the shouts and firing coming from the rest of them.
I was trying to decide the best way to break off from the firefight and get out of there with the truck and women when Rachel and another woman appeared beside me. Rachel was holding her rifle and the woman had the dead guard’s rifle in her hands. I glanced at her and recognized the pants and shoes she was wearing as most likely being part of a law enforcement uniform. She saw me look, met my eyes and nodded her head.
“Who’s your friend?” I asked, involuntarily doing a double take at the woman. She was shorter than Rachel, more compact with long blonde hair, but even disheveled and dirty she was a stunning beauty.
“Eyes on the target, big boy.” The woman said. “I’m Melanie Fitzgerald, Tennessee State Police.”
“What do you want us to do?” Rachel asked, frost evident in her tone. She had her back against the truck’s door and rifle held high across her body, but still managed to convey her displeasure that I had noticed another woman. Melanie was right next to her and looked pissed off and ready to kill anything.
