by Hawk, Nate
Nonetheless, the three men understood the nature of the responsibility that they had volunteered for. The easy kills had been made already in a real life Darwinian struggle. The more cautious ISIS men had taken cover and survived. The three-man team surmised that the remaining fighters would be harder to eliminate. Owen chanced a gaze over the hood of the LR4 just in time to see the third man, and two others with him, retreating into the garage. Angelo attempted a burst of last second shooting but was unable to hit the men, who fled towards the entry door to the home as one of them hit the automatic garage door button on the way in. The other terrorists were apparently still inside. Kelly thought there would be maybe five more with two drivers who were probably armed too. At that point, the firefight had lasted a mere twenty-five seconds.
Kelly thought he had noticed something earlier so he refocused his ACOG with its four times magnification on the dead driver in the SUV. He confirmed his earlier suspicion and mic’d Owen again.
“Owen, get the hell out of there!”
What’s up? he wondered as he turned towards the shadows and unsuccessfully attempted to make eye contact with Kelly.
“The driver has a freshly shaven face. I can see the tan line on his jaw.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Something I learned over in the sandbox,” Kelly began.
Owen still hadn’t put it together. He was starting to wonder if Kelly was losing focus. Maybe the man had been through too much. They’d all been over-stimulated and under-rested, with everything that had happened the last thirty-six hours. Still, the immediate release Adderall should be kicking in. Suck it up, Owen momentarily thought.
Kelly continued: “Before suicide bombers go out on their final mission, they shave their faces. It helps them blend into society better. Many times there is a tan line since that part of their jaw hasn’t seen the sun in ages.”
“Awe, shit,” was all Owen said with his adrenaline limited, wartime vocabulary. He jumped up and began hustling towards a position closer to Angelo. Owen knew he was exposed as he ran but hiding behind a bomb was certain death. He found the cover he wanted on the side of the garage.
“Yeah, that’s right. That car or that man is probably rigged with explosives,” Kelly said as he saw a flash out of the corner of his eye.
***
Chapter 66
Rick Quinn knew his team needed him. Plus, once the after-action reports were written, he knew he would look better if he had been on location during the operation. He pictured himself with a new medal and a pocket full of atta-boys. Being connected to the wet work was generally always avoided by ranking men like him, but today, it had become an understood risk.
Besides, if one of his team members were picked up by law enforcement, he’d be there to help out, although he knew that would take finesse and a different approach all together. The jet had landed and a car waited for him out front. The driver had made eye contact one time when Rick had opened the door. He turned in his seat and glanced back, the whole time keeping his hand on a pistol that was hidden from Rick’s view.
“Can you spare a ride for a weary traveler tonight?” Rick Quinn inquired, still standing outside the vehicle.
The driver replied, “Not tonight, the roads are wet and dangerous.”
Rick Quinn looked up at the clear, star-studded sky above them. Satisfied that both statements had passed the duress code requirements, both men relaxed. Had Quinn not identified himself as a “weary traveler”, the driver would have known it was a set up. Had the driver said “yes”, Rick Quinn would have known that someone made him do so under duress and he would have quickly evaded. Recognizing Quinn, the driver holstered his pistol and Rick Quinn sat down inside. Between the recognition and passing the duress test, he knew that they were on track. Rick had the address memorized. The large sedan pulled away from the curve and began its journey towards Grunwald.
***
Kelly pulled his right eye away from the ACOG once he realized that Owen had made it to safety. He looked to his right towards the movement that he had seen, where he saw a man running in a flowing white robe with an AK-47 in his grasp. The man had exited from a rear door in an apparent break towards the back side of the property. Worse yet, through the light, Kelly could see that the man had a recently shaven face.
Kelly re-situated his rifle and prepared his finger on the trigger. As he regained the figure through the scope and centered the reticle, he pulled the remaining slack. At the same time that the bullet sped out of the end of the muzzle at 2750 feet per second, the man had already begun his leap over the fence. The bullet may have hit his trailing white robe but it apparently missed contact with the man’s body. The man was quickly up and over the fence as he disappeared from sight.
“One of ‘em just made it over the fence,” Kelly announced through his radio. “I’m going for him.”
Angelo looked towards Owen with a look that said shit. The big man just shrugged his shoulders. What could he say? They watched the sprinting figure with the long rifle move across the well-kept lawn. Kelly attracted some attention from a shooter inside once he reached the man’s field of view. Kelly knew how hard it was to hit a moving target so he just kept his legs moving fast. He reached the stone wall in a matter of seconds as fusillades of gunfire erupted randomly. The echoes reverberated through the broken windows on the backside of the house. Reaching the sturdy wall, Kelly leaped over it in a single bound that ended with him falling and rolling over the other side. He knew the wall would protect him from the gunfire originating from the home. Kelly’s thoughts were solely on the maniac who had already jumped the fence. Where had the man gone? Kelly made sure to keep his head lower than the wall and looked both ways. He couldn’t spot a pedestrian anywhere, but taillights from a speeding Volvo quickly grabbed his attention. It swerved left and right before correcting its course, like the driver was adjusting the seat backwards or messing with a control somewhere. Perhaps he was fighting with someone else in the vehicle.
Kelly looked closely and seemed to see white clothing on the shoulders of the driver. Kelly was near a cul-de-sac then as he watched the car and tried to figure out where it was headed. He could tell the road would double back around on the next block, before the driver had the opportunity to exit the neighborhood with the car.
Then the Adderall kicked in. Kelly felt the medication working as his mind instantly cleared. He suddenly began to notice an increased ability to process information. It felt astounding. He didn’t know if it was real or just perceived, but he welcomed the seemingly higher analytical capacity. Kelly eyed the nearest house where he saw a sandbox and other kid’s items. Then he saw a kid sized bike. The kid’s bike was on its side and the wheel was still spinning slowly. It was as if it had just been laid down.
The driveway was bare but Kelly got the distinct impression that it had just been vacated. The cul-de-sac was well illuminated with street lighting as Kelly tried to picture the events that had just unfolded. The terrorist had probably jumped the stone wall about the time that a mother came outside to tell her child to come indoors for the night. The kid maybe did one last rebellious lap around the illuminated cul-de-sac before dumping the bike and producing a few cries of protest. The maniac had run up at the same time, waving the gun in their faces and forcing them into the car. Then the trio sped off as Kelly jumped the wall and acquired the visual on the Volvo. Although the situation was new to him, it was also painfully familiar.
Kelly wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he were to witness the violent deaths of someone else’s innocent family.
***
Owen and Angelo were between the proverbial rock and a hard place. The property had very little cover from which to shoot. If they didn’t act quickly, one of two, or perhaps both bad outcomes were bound to occur. The ISIS terrorists had to be regrouping and planning their escape. If they were able to get away, surely innocent people would die. Equally, the neighbors must have heard the gunfire and so the police
had likely been dispatched. Surely they would be arriving soon. Would the remaining terrorists escape from the men’s grasp? Would more innocent civilians die? Would the police arrive and attempt to detain the trio of men fighting the terrorists? But walking away wasn’t an option either. They needed a diversion. They were both veterans and both had seen action overseas. They knew the effects of exploding crudely made IEDs and suicide vests: large scale chaos and destruction.
Angelo made his way over to the first SUV with the driver still inside. Owen covered him with automatic gunfire from the side of the garage. He made it to the vehicle and pulled on the dead man until his body flopped out into a heap. Angelo was trying to be careful and fast at the same time, conceding carefulness first. Semper Fi, he thought.
He struggled under gunfire to remove the heavy vest and finally released it. He ran parallel along the SUVs, firing with one hand and holding the vest tightly with the other as he approached the house. Owen continued to peek around the corner and fire into the home’s windows in the areas where he saw movement. Angelo made it to the portico area that covered the front door where he hung the weighty vest on the front door’s handle. Then, he ran fast around the far side of the house. This left the two men on opposite sides of the home.
“It’s in place,” he said over the radios.
“Roger that, take cover.”
Owen lined up his sights and squeezed off rounds until the third one had the desired effect. An enormous explosion rocked the house. Both of the men struggled to stay upright but were knocked down. The only noise that they could hear after the explosion was ringing in their ears. Angelo wasn’t able to see the front door from his location but Owen crawled to the edge of the building and peered towards the portico. The ceiling over the porch had been blown to pieces. The few remaining beams of the unsteady structure appeared to be on the verge of collapse. The front door, glass and whole front wall in that area of the home had vanished. There was a screen of smoke and a fire had started up near the roof. Owen realigned his MP5 and aimed the short barrel towards the doorway. Angelo looped around the side of the house where he was now watching the back door.
Two men ran out and as they came down a well-landscaped stone walkway, Angelo took them out with a burst from his MP5. A third ran out with his gun up, unsure of where the opposing force was located. He saw the two men on the ground. Before Angelo was able to get a good sight picture on him, the man ducked back inside the burning house. Another man considered trying to come out the front and as he prepared to jump through a light smoke screen, Owen dropped him with one shot to the head. Owen did a tactical reload since he knew his magazine was running low. As he looked deep into the house from the gaping wound on its exterior, Owen saw more flames racing upwards and outwards. As he watched, five terrorists jumped through the front of the house in a last-ditch-effort to escape the burning inferno. They all seemed to have their sights trained on Owen’s position as they unloaded a hailstorm of fire on him. They rushed his position with a suicidal momentum that he could not single-handedly repel.
***
Chapter 67
Kelly began noticing his left foot then. It sure hurt. All of the running and jumping had caused the blast wound to begin tearing open. Kelly knew there was no time to think about the pain. He was a 3/5 Darkhorse Marine, after all. He’d been through much worse. He quickly made his way through the backyard and across the cul-de-sac. As he gained distance from the wall, shooters on the second story were able to see him again. He zigzagged when he thought there was a clear line on him and kept moving fast. Could they get a good sight picture on him as he lurked in the shadows?
Kelly didn’t hear the distinctive crack of any incoming rounds and figured they had given up on him in search of more realistic targets. Their AKs were known for reliability but not for accuracy past a couple of hundred yards. He knew he was reasonably safe from them, at least. As he gained confidence that he had established a safe distance between him and the house, he heard a loud explosion. It shook the ground but he stayed up and kept moving. All he could do was hope that Owen and Angelo were safely behind adequate cover when it had blown. Damn it was loud. He ran hard, as he knew that he was very short on time. He came out between two houses as the Swedish car was accelerating, moving towards him at a quickening rate. Its headlights cast a bright light barrier that he knew he would have to penetrate. He was entirely out of breath and had no idea how he could pull off a quality shot on the run.
He sprinted as if he were going to run into the road but stopped at the last second. He rested his M4 on top of a street sign for support and lined up the reticle instantly. He knew that he had one shot to save the woman’s and child’s lives. He also knew that if he analyzed it or lacked confidence in the shot, he would blow it all. The “what ifs” fought to stop Kelly from taking the shot, but he was a hell of a lot stronger than “what if”. He pushed the thoughts of doubt out of his mind.
Interestingly, it was the contrast of the tanned facial area against the freshly shaven area that filled his sight picture as he stared above the headlights. He squeezed and, simultaneously, the front of the man’s face exploded in a red and grey spatter on the driver’s side window. The car careened out of control and nearly crashed into a car parked on the boulevard. The mother’s instinct for survival took over and she yanked the wheel at the last minute, avoiding a collision with the car. She over did it though causing her to sideswipe a different car parked on the other side of the road. Fortunately for everyone, the jolt and the movement of the wheel was enough that the dead man’s foot fell off the accelerator and seemed to rest gently on the brake. The red brake lights lit up Kelly. He watched as the vehicle slowed. Then, he began running behind the car. As the vehicle continued slowing down, he got alongside of it. His rifle was now slung over his back and he opened the back door.
“Get out, he’s got a bomb,” Kelly yelled.
The woman began to scream as a filthy, armed man pulled her seven year old son out of the back of the car.
“Move,” he yelled again, trying to remember the German words. “Schnell!”
He yelled as he reached around and physically shook her shoulder. He knew that trick usually worked. She was clearly in shock but the German word for fast and the shake seemed to awaken her. It was good because Kelly’s German vocabulary was coming up empty, past that. She looked at him in terror. Still, jogging, he held the crying boy. Kelly flung her door open as he grabbed her hand and set his feet like a boat anchor. Understanding then that the war-ravaged man wasn’t there to hurt them, she came up and out, all three of them falling in a heap onto the ground. The woman clutched her crying son and Kelly tried to smile to calm her down. Her terror quickly turned to appreciation as she understood that Kelly had saved them both. The car continued rolling on until it struck a parked car several seconds later. Kelly wasn’t sure what type of activation device was built into the vest, nor did he have time to consider it. When the car came to an abrupt stop, the bomb was triggered. It let out an explosion that shook the ground and immediately engulfed both vehicles.
Kelly left them crying in the street. He didn’t have the words and more importantly he knew his friends were fighting for their lives. That was if they were still alive. What was the explosion that he had heard? He brought his rifle around in front and ran hard while he was switching beta mags. He hoped a fresh hundred round drum would be enough to get the job done. He also hoped it wouldn’t jam. He ran back in the direction of the house. Damn, this foot is getting worse, he thought. He didn’t go the way that he had originally come though. He ran parallel to the property line, directly beside the wall, maintaining his cover. Then he ran along the frontage of the property, still protected by the stone wall. He entered through the gate again to a scene of horror.
Owen was on the ground lining up a shot and five terrorists were running towards him in a hail of fire directed at the downed man. At the last second, Kelly saw Angelo returning from the far side of the hous
e. He was raising his weapon and was half a second from beginning to fire. Kelly switched his gun to full auto as he entered the gate and immediately took out the lead man who was two feet from having a line of sight on Owen. The hundred rounds fired rapidly through Kelly’s long gun. After the lead man was down, Kelly stood in place and let his rifle seek out other targets. He moved right down the line as the American made rifle sang a song of violent death at fifteen rounds per second. Owen lay on the ground, at that point just looking towards Kelly. His bullets whizzed past Owen again. Kelly was proving to be very reliable. Owen was bloody but to Kelly seemed to be OK during his initial assessment. Kelly watched the bullets meet their mark. Angelo’s quieter rifle sang its own version of the song. The duet of death continued, much longer than perhaps it needed to or should have, as the bullets continued to thwack into the bodies that had fallen to the ground.
It provided closure to the men. It was a satisfying ending to the enforcement of the swift justice that had taken place over the last hours. It was emotional closure for the survivors as their minds flashed back to their lost friends. They thought of the better half of the PAG team that didn’t make it. Kelly thought of his better two-thirds who vanished that spring day in Boston.
Kelly’s gun ran dry and he charged forward. He held his rifle like a baseball bat and begun swinging at the bodies that had piled up in front of Owen. He swung over and over as a fire built up in the muscles of his arms. Coming unglued, he moved from body to body, striking them repeatedly. He smashed one man’s face for Jen. He smashed another man’s body for Brady. Each time he struck a body, the red hot gun barrel sizzled and let off the stench of death. Kelly let out all of his pent up emotion, as he repeatedly swung his rifle and cursed. Tears rolled down his face as he continued pounding on the terrorists on account of the other victims of the Boston attack. His arms exhausted, Kelly threw down his rifle and began stomping the bodies before eventually going completely still. Owen and Angelo carefully approached him.
