by Hawk, Nate
Kelly forcefully put a knee in the man’s lower back, pressing him flat on his stomach. The man’s head begun to rotate around as he struggled against his handcuffs. Although he tried, he couldn’t see much through the long hair that had fallen into his eyes.
“Look at the floor,” Kelly said, as he applied more pressure.
The man quickly caught on and complied, remaining relatively motionless. Kelly took out the law enforcement Wanted poster that contained a grainy photo of a man missing part of his left ear. Kelly quickly inked two of Abbas’ fingers and rolled them onto the Wanted poster.
The poster was titled Mohammad Vargas. Kelly quickly compared the fingerprints on the flyer with those of the man before him. Just like the VIN number on the Typhoon SUV parked out front, Kelly immediately determined that the fingerprints were a match. Knowing now for certain, Kelly figured he could get away with a more intense interrogation than if he had nothing on this man. Kelly took out a pair of locking pliers that he had looked forward to putting to use. He was tempted to go to work on the man’s feet based on the current condition of his own left foot. To Kelly, it didn’t matter who had physically been there in Boston. Or who was involved directly with the bomb construction or placement. Being part of the organization was enough for Kelly. His plan was to dismantle the entire organization, one asshole at a time. He didn’t know if he would find enough satisfaction in that achievement but he was pretty sure he’d know soon enough.
At the hospital, Kelly had nothing but time to carefully consider how to move forward. He knew the man would need his feet intact for the walk still ahead of them. So he adjusted the vice-grips to where they had about one millimeter between the tips of the strong metal tips, in the closed position. He bent Abbas’ smallest finger into a workable position and began applying pressure. Then Kelly gripped it with all of his strength, applying fifty times the leverage of his own strength to the man’s digit. The fingernail instantly shattered into multiple pieces. Soft tissue was ruptured and the bone itself crushed. The pliers locked, maintaining the pressure, and agonizing pain continuously throbbed through the ruined finger. Fighting to keep Abbas under control, Kelly repeated the process on the man’s index finger. Kelly wiggled the tool around for more effect. Abbas let out a long shriek as he began reconsidering whom he may or may not have been acquainted with.
“Want me to keep going, asshole?”
As Abbas continued to squirm underneath him, Kelly punched him in the back of the head. The man’s resolve was limited and he quickly fell back into position, still yelling in agony. Kelly was hoping the man had a little more fight in him though. Maybe Abbas’ silence would force Kelly to continue smashing the rest of his fingers.
Suddenly, Kelly heard a ‘thwack’ and a loud crack directly outside. Then the echo of a rifle shot quickly followed. Kelly had been fired at plenty of times. He knew what it meant when he could hear the bullet break the sound barrier before he heard the explosion of the cartridge. Somebody was definitely shooting in his direction. He also recognized the ‘thwack’ sound. A person had definitely been hit.
“It was the guy that found the body,” Brooke said. “He was on his way in but he’s not anymore.”
“Roger that,” Kelly said. “Change of plans. We’re coming out, over.”
Much to Abbas’ satisfaction, Kelly undid the pliers and put them back in his pocket. Two of Abbas’ fingers were ruined and would never again look or function as they should. Kelly had wanted to continue the interrogation but he quickly realized that he wouldn’t be proceeding on with an interrogation now that a battle had begun to rage outside. Kelly seized the man by the cuffs and forced him to push himself up with his legs. Two more cracks and subsequent rifle reports echoed outside. Then the gunfire became widespread.
***
Chapter 46
Brooke looked through her scope. Six men had gathered on the other side of a small hill and were walking towards the central building. They were a motley crew, some dressed in long flowing robes and all of them displaying various firearms in an unorganized, low-ready position. Stupidly, they all generally walked abreast of each other making great silhouettes for Brooke to work with. She wouldn’t fire on them if it could be avoided but she wouldn’t allow them to surround the building, either. They walked on, operationally oblivious that they were being eyed through the ACOG scope. Brooke had begun to shake. She knew there was no way to eliminate the adrenaline that combat summoned. But she and Kelly had talked about it ahead of time so she did her best to control it. Brooke breathed deeply and forced her body to remain as calm as possible. She was analyzing the men now, looking for signs of leadership. She wanted to select the biggest and the best targets first; the alpha males of the group that had the power to turn the tide during a gunfight.
She figured she could make one, maybe two decent shots before the men figured out that they needed adequate cover. She selected her targets carefully. The men’s formation was slowing, changing now as they closed in on the building. There was a big man out front who seemed high on courage. It was the kind of dumb courage that could get him killed in combat. It did. Brooke fired once and the bullet entered just under his mandible. The force of a supersonic projectile, entering just above the Adams apple and exiting through the rear portion of his cranial cavity, could only end one way; the entire back half of his head exploded.
Blood and bone and brain matter sprayed the two men that had been walking behind him. She had selected her second target before firing at the first. As target number one’s head was exploding, her sights were already aligned on a man further to her right side. She could see through the ACOG that he had the inquiring eyes of a skilled soldier. Brooke could tell he was the only one who had begun to look around for a possible trap. It was a thought in his mind but it had not translated to action quickly enough to save him. In the split second that the shootout began, the other men had stared with a naive confidence in their ability to take out their enemy. Instead of immediately taking cover they looked for the shooter.
Brooke figured the second guy would have been the fastest one to relocate himself after her first shot, if she had allowed him to. As fragments of the back of the leading man’s head was moving backwards at about 2500 feet per second, the next bullet was exiting the muzzle of her rifle. The second man had just turned his head slightly, looking for cover, when the projectile hit him. It hit center chest, tearing a tangerine-sized hole through his heart. Before it exited his chest cavity, it tore through more soft tissue and severed his spine. The man had a few seconds to think about what may have happened or to imagine what may have been… if only.
Brooke didn’t spend extra time projecting what the man might have accomplished with his pitiful life. She had already moved on to her third target. The four remaining men were scattering while generally eyeballing the area that the gunfire had come from. As they fled for cover, they seemed to fire their weapons out of instinct. Maybe it was from watching too many movies. Either way, it accomplished nothing.
One man positioned himself behind a corner of the building. Two others took positions behind large trees in the middle of Brooke’s field of vision. A fourth had made his way to Brooke’s left. He had gotten behind a vehicle and had taken cover on the backside of the engine block. So far, the men had not identified the position of the sniper who was taking a toll on their group. They knew the general direction though. At the same time, two tall men burst out of the rear door. Brooke switched her rifle to full auto and did an administrative reload, giving herself 101 cartridges to rain superior firepower on her aggressors.
Kelly finished assessing their approach to Brooke’s position and began the transition. The longhaired man in the robe was in the lead with Kelly prodding him with his muzzle and yelling instructions. Kelly pointed towards their intended exit point and both men began moving in the direction of Brooke’s snipers’ nest. As Kelly maneuvered towards Brooke, he kept Abbas, or Mohammad or whatever name he would go by, between h
im and the gunfire. Kelly didn’t want his prisoner shot but he wanted himself to be shot even less.
The men made it to the relative safety of the woods unharmed. They were about twenty feet shy of Brooke, exactly where Kelly had left his pack. The men’s sprint across the field and the simultaneous suppressive firepower streaming out of the end of Brooke’s barrel were enough for the others to stop shooting. They didn’t want shot by the fully automatic gunfire, nor did they want to shoot their boss if he dumbly ran into their field-of-fire. Where the hell was he going anyway?
Kelly looked through his pack and took out a small section of rope. Abbas was eyeing him like he expected to be strung up by his neck on a tree limb, right then and there. Kelly tied one end to the base of a tree and the other to Abbas’ cuffs. Just like a domesticated pet. If it was possible, Kelly had one more task on his mind before leaving. He had wanted to search Niko’s SUV before becoming sidetracked. Seeing that there would no longer be any quiet way to go about it, he sent Brooke hand signals, informing her of his plan. She sent him a ‘thumbs up’ sign. The man leaning on the fender of the truck was shooting an AK. He held it loosely and aimed it poorly while holding it away from his body. He clearly wasn’t an operator. Kelly kept his rifle on semi auto and sent a 77-grain round of match ammo through the man’s forehead. It looked like someone had momentarily hinged the top of his head backwards. That stopped once the man’s body understood its head wasn’t sending any more signals. The man fell backwards and out of sight.
The was a brief lull in the gunfire coming from Brooke. Kelly looked towards her and saw that her beta mag had jammed.
“Shit,” he said out loud,
Kelly kept shooting as he moved towards Brooke.
At the same time, one of the guys that had taken up a position behind a large oak tree had begun aiming his shots better. A split second before Kelly fired a shot through the man’s eye socket, the shooter discharged a round towards Brooke. Kelly had heard the sound of the bullet making contact near Brooke. The noise had a metallic ‘ding’ to it, which worried Kelly.
Seeing his buddies get shot, the other man, still positioned behind a tree, took off backwards in a full sprint. Kelly knew all too well how fear gets people killed quickly in battle. He’d seen it happen to his enemy. He’d even seen it happen to more than one on his side. He took the easy shot through the man’s back and dropped him about a hundred yards out. Kelly didn’t want to have to deal with the same man later. The last fighter remaining was positioned behind the community center. He had suddenly discovered his tolerance level for firefights. His decision to run turned out to be a smart one. Kelly didn’t have a decent angle to dispatch him. He was more worried about Brooke so he didn’t bother taking a shot at him. Kelly stood up and ran towards her. She was shell-shocked then. She had that thousand yard stare on her face like she was stargazing. He smacked her across the face with his hand in an effort to snap her out of the trance.
“Stay with me,” he ordered.
She didn’t say anything for a few seconds but her pupils went big and then small again, as if she was trying to focus.
“What happened?” she asked wiping at the dripping blood running down her neck.
Kelly looked at the railing on the rifle and saw an impact mark. The bullet had first struck her hand guard, then fragmented and sent pieces in a flurry of spatter towards her. Some of the fragments had hit her right ear and shoulder. Kelly quickly assessed her ear, which looked as if two fragments of the bullet may have pierced through the cartilage. He took out a folding knife and used its razor sharp edge to carefully cut the camouflage shirt away from her injured shoulder. He knew it was only a matter of time before more men showed up with a better plan. Kelly hurried, but he was thorough as he looked over Brooke. Satisfied that the wounds were not very serious, he assured her that she was OK.
“You’re all right. Press this bandage right here.”
“I can’t feel any pain.”
“You’re in shock. I promise that it’ll be plenty painful tomorrow.”
She still had that distant look, as anyone might expect being a victim of a gunshot wound. Kelly knew he didn’t have much time before every man living in the compound would show up looking for a fight.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised.
Kelly wasted no time running over to the GMC Typhoon. He pulled his rifle back and smashed the glass on the driver’s side. Then he reached inside and unlocked it. He leaned the seat forward and it slid on its tracks. He was looking for anything. He checked the middle console and found a couple of gas receipts. He leaned over to the glove box and found an owner’s manual and a maintenance log. There was an expired insurance card in a plastic bag with an expired registration. He found a frequent-shopper value-card and twenty years of dust and grime. Under the front seat he found a Makarov. In the side door pocket he found a blank note pad. He held it at an angle and after seeing some writing imprints, decided to take it. Kelly could hear nearby shouting within the compound and he realized he was out of time. That was too bad because there may have been other items in the vehicle that could have helped Kelly locate Niko. He picked up the pistol with his gloves still on so that he wouldn’t leave his own fingerprints. Kelly put the Makarov in his pocket as he sprinted back to Brooke and Abbas. As he was running, he glanced over his back a couple of times. A group of ten or so men had staggered themselves through the trees and were moving towards Kelly with determination. He knew it was a fire fight that he and Brooke should avoid.
“C’mon. We did good. Let’s get the hell outta here.”
He advanced on Abbas, his knife in hand. Abbas could see that his time had come. He was trying to remain strong in the face of death but it quickly turned to a whimper. He had almost forgotten that he was still a wanted fugitive.
“Please, no kill me. Please…,” he said cradling his broken fingers with his opposing hand.
“I’ve got something more satisfying in mind,” Kelly taunted.
He arched the knife through the air and severed the rope that was tied to the base of the tree. He pulled out a small roll of duct tape and cut off a piece about six inches long. Then he placed it over the man’s mouth. Kelly closed up his pack and shouldered it.
“Let’s go. Brooke, get down there to the controller. On my cue, ok?”
“Yeah,” she said.
Kelly fired several shots towards the advancing men.
Abbas stumbled to his feet with a look of where-do-I-go-next. Brooke was on her feet, preoccupied some with her close call. She was more focused now but still drifting, at times, towards a distant land. Kelly switched to full auto and let go a couple of bursts in the men’s’ direction. He looked back and saw Abbas was in the lead and Brooke was right behind him. She was prodding him as Kelly had done. Kelly was keeping an eye on Brooke and Abbas but also gauging the distance of the oncoming force. He was in the prone and firing occasionally, just enough to keep the men at bay. The men were at that point close enough to see Kelly’s face. In fact, they were too close. Kelly knew it was time. Brooke had forced Abbas to be seated in the ravine. She had her rifle slung in front and kept one hand on its grip. The other hand had carefully seized the Maped F1 controller. She split her time watching the prisoner and making eye contact with Kelly. Kelly watched Abbas too, just to make sure he didn’t do something dumb. However, the pain and self-pity seemed to prevent Abbas from making a move. As Brooke looked up, she noticed Kelly making tracks down the ravine. He counted to ten and then stopped.
He pointed at Brooke, giving the “wait” signal and then turned to confirm that none of the combatants had silhouetted the hill. Kelly knew they were right there, coming fast. Then he saw one man’s head begin to appear over the ridge.
“Now,” Kelly commanded.
Brooke pushed the button causing the fiber of the detonation cord to sever. This in turn collapsed the electrical circuit and triggered the mine. The explosion felt to those in the ravine to be in slow motion. T
here was the moment right before detonation where it seemed like all the air in the atmosphere had been sucked out of their ears. The void was quickly replaced with the loudness of the bomb, followed seconds later by the shrieks of the injured men above and the sounds of ringing static. Kelly hoped that would keep the men occupied long enough for them to escape.
The three continued making their way down the ravine and into the perceived protection of its steep sides. The woods were darker now and each step felt more treacherous than the last. They walked on, two of the three minding their injuries, while Kelly trailed them, always attentive for threats in front and behind. He preferred to be point man but in this circumstance he figured there was more danger behind than ahead. Occasionally a string of gunshots would ring out somewhere on the ridges above them. No one was visible through the foliage canopy but Kelly suspected the survivors would be putting together search parties. Hopefully their best warriors are down, Kelly considered. It was a much different pace than the one that he and Brooke had entered with. They wasted no time and quickly exited through the clearing. They didn’t bother walking parallelly with the road given the circumstances. They walked right down the middle of it. Making good time was more important than stealth. If they saw headlights they would plunge into the darkness of the woods. There had been a moment when they spotted headlights somewhere in the darkness ahead. The lights had seemed so close to Kelly at the time but after further evaluation, he decided they were far out. Fortunately, the vehicle had turned off the main road before taking any interest in the three. Moving quickly, they made it back to the parked truck without further contact. Kelly prodded Abbas with his rifle.
“Tell me where Niko is you piece of shit!”
The man didn’t reply. Kelly grew frustrated, knowing every second counted. He smashed the adjustable rifle stock into the man’s stomach. Abbas moaned in pain and crumpled over on the road. The prisoner’s breathing was a miserable looking phenomenon as he could only inhale from his nose. Kelly didn’t care if the man suffered behind the duct tape. Kelly removed the pliers and propped his rifle on the back end of the truck. He mounted the downed man from behind and applied the full force of the vice grips on his middle finger. Abbas shrieked and moaned like a stuck swine, mostly silenced by the tape. How long would it be before another group showed up? Kelly wondered.
