The Reaper: No Mercy

by Sean Liebling

  "Watch out! Here they come again!" Winters shouted, as several trucks drove towards their position, knocking over headstones and swerving to avoid the trees. Winters signaled Redding, and an M203-40mm grenade shot towards the lead truck.

  Even with the illumination from overhead flares the explosion was bright, and Winters ducked behind the tree again to prevent any shrapnel from hitting him.

  *****

  Staff Sergeant Schuster ducked as the latest round of grenades went off, and chuckled to himself. He scanned the cemetery grounds in front of their position. So far, his groups were taking a toll on the enemy with only two civilians lightly wounded. Those he had quickly field dressed and sent to the medivac area behind and to his right.

  He stretched slightly as he kneeled. He wasn't used to going without his IOTV, or Improved Outer Tactical Vest, with its ESAPI-enhanced ballistic inserts, but the bitch did weigh forty-two pounds, and its absence allowed him addition freedom of movement. He had forced Andy, the survivor group’s leader, to wear it when they assumed their flanking position. Oh, Rodriguez would be pissed off as hell if he found out, but Shue simply didn't care. Of everyone here, Andy was the only family man with children, and had much more to lose, relatively speaking, than did the rest of the group. Shue still had his helmet and didn't sweat the lack or armored protection. They would be behind the wall and mostly safe from incoming fire.

  Suddenly three figures broke through the trees, running in his direction. Swiveling slightly from where he crouched, he aimed at the forms approaching their position. Then he heard their screams. Wait! They were women, mostly unclothed, and while running slightly towards his position, their main direction of travel was almost straight south. Christ almighty!

  "Cease fire, cease fire," Shue hollered as he rolled over the top of the fence to fall in a crouch within the cemetery grounds. Christ, he thought again as he sprinted towards the three women. They saw him and started veering away, only to come under the attention of the marauders trying to escape in this direction. Rounds were whipping overhead and around him as he quickly closed on their position, just as all three fell to the ground, obviously hit.

  Throwing himself over two of the bodies he emptied his magazine into the attacking enemy, clearly visible as they were exiting the interior woods, while shouting again, "Fire, damnit! Cover me!" Instantly behind him the rifles opened up, and he watched as the opposing force quickly took cover within the trees inside the cemetery. Sliding sideways, he checked the first woman, and found a pelvic wound and a graze to the head, causing unconsciousness. A quick look at the other confirmed death, as the ruin of her forehead showed a round had passed through from the back of her head, exiting forward. Her dead eyes were wide open, her expression one of fright, and he shook with rage that such a young life had ended so quickly; he rolled over to the last one, replacing magazines and emptying another into the woods against the marauders in a wild spray and pray. Anything to keep them distracted so he could get these injured out.

  As Shue gazed down on the last young lady, he saw her eyes were also open, but she was unable to speak. The two bloody holes in her upper torso had left her in shock. The first, in the left side; the other, a through and through chest wound. She might have been in shock, but the plea for help in her eyes was obvious. Fuck!

  "Incoming wounded! Cover, cover, cover!' he shouted again as loud as he could, and with that he dropped his M4, letting it hang by its sling, and after first scooping one girl up in the crook of his right arm, he bent and scooped the second up in his left, just as he felt a round hit his lower back to one side. Oh damn, that hurt, and me not wearing my vest. His knees started to buckle, but he forced himself to stand and started running with his charges towards the fence line.

  Would he make it? He did not know, as he felt the second round pass through his right shoulder causing partial paralysis in that limb, but not enough for him to be unable to cup his hand and clench the girl's side in a death grip as he continued to run forward, hugging her. This would have been simpler if he was wearing all his gear, but he still did not regret giving his armor to Andy. Then another round, this one in the back, followed closely by a fourth through his left thigh, and now he was staggering under both women's almost unbearable weight, but he would not stop! He would see them to safety, even if it meant his own life, he vowed. Ahead, he saw the flanking assault team pouring over the side of the wall and running towards him while firing wildly. No, no, damnit. Stay under cover! His breath was now coming in gasps and his pace slowed even further from his wounds as he saw one of his men go down, and then another.

  Then two more rounds hit him. One in the left leg again, another in his back, and then he was falling. He felt no pain now, for he had been hit too many times, and instantly recognized the signs of shock even as his vision swam. Lying on the ground, he curled his body, cradling both woman against his bleeding chest in a vain attempt to shield them from further injury. His last conscious thought before his vision darkened was of Tom, Andy, and Bruce running past him, firing continuously. Then he knew no more as he sank into a liquid pool of blackness. He never felt the hands that suddenly grasped his limp form. Lifting, and carrying him to safety.

  *****

  Olsen watched as headlights approached, moving south on Highway 405 and fast! The firefight had been going on for some time now, and he'd been waiting for the enemy to start bolting. He needed to time this perfectly, as there were only three vehicles so far coming towards them and he expected many more. In his hand he clenched the remote detonator console for the C4-IED charges, his thumb on the first fire button. Overhead, rounds were still whizzing past as Assault One's skirmish line continued south and east, though from the radio chatter he was listening in on, he knew that would cease shortly. Sokowski was getting ready to divide into two squads and breach the seminary and combined office complex. After that, they would hit the small chapel.

  "Keep your heads down. It's not our turn yet. We can't screw this up, so just be calm, people!" he shouted. He'd heard rustling coming from behind where the others lay in wait, under cover from incoming fire, and the last thing they needed was for people to rise and get hit.

  Olsen needed to save the last two IED' for when the majority of the marauders tried to escape. Highway 405 needed to be blocked in order to give him and his people enough time to take out the runners. The last two were abandoned vehicles, each on opposites of the road and almost exactly opposite each other. It should work, but right now he needed to take out these three traveling together as a pack. He waited until the last was coming up on the first IED and toggled the switch. He had six charges, and he knew how to use them wisely.

  Instantly the implanted device exploded in a spectacular way, lighting up the early dawn and throwing metal shards, causing the vehicle it was aimed at to be thrown sideways, rolling over several times before coming to a stop. Olsen didn't watch to see if anyone escaped the burning truck as he was already toggling the second IED, then rapidly the third. Two more explosions rang out and both remaining vehicles swerved out of control before crashing.

  Now he looked and saw several figures escaping the disabled vehicles, and dropping the control console from his hidden position, he raised the carbine beside him and started firing.

  *****

  Chapter 23

  Sokowski grunted as his back slammed against the stone wall of the seminary entrance. There were multiple shooters inside, and someone in the bell tower doing a lousy job of playing sniper. So far every shot had missed, badly, and they would get to him eventually. Right now, he had a breach to perform. Pulling a flash bang from his MOLLE pouch, he armed, then tossed it behind him into the interior. Seconds later the bright flare and concussive wave of its explosion was both felt and heard, and he immediately turned, scuttling through the doorway while veering to his right, M4 at the ready. Behind him Switzer, Nelson, and Brandow followed, Brandow on his heels, the other two veering left.

  There! Two male targets holding g
uns, and their stark illumination against the open windows made them perfect targets as three rounds of 5.56 stitched diagonally upward from lower belly to mid-chest on the first. Beside him, Brandow was already taking down the other before Sokowski could bring his weapon to bear. Huddled against the far wall, shrieking, were several partial-clad women, making him glad for the helmet and its ear protection that he wore.

  "Clear!" he immediately shouted and, Switzer who was somewhere behind him, responded with another “Clear” and they moved inward ... fast! The women, they ignored for now. If one happened to rise against them in an apocalyptic version of the Stockholm syndrome, he would put her down, but not until that moment. Sokowski did not feel enough time had passed for that type of mindset to occur, though he had briefed his men to take no chances.

  Together, he and Brandow rushed the hallway, Sokowski dropping low while Brandow went high, both with weapons searching for targets. There was no one visible, though they could hear cursing further inside. Quickly Sokowski sent signals to the rest of the men to clear the interior as they proceeded deeper into the seminary.

  *****

  Ringo cursed again. Another damn miss! Fucking gun was all fucked up obviously. He had fired over thirty rounds and only hit one soldier, and that one barely. The camouflage-clad figure had ducked behind a headstone after Ringo's shot penetrated, and before he came into view again Ringo was forced to move to a different window, for the motherfuckers were shooting back!

  Where in the fuck were his men? As he peered over the stone parapet he saw several of them. Just where in the fuck did they think they were going, climbing in a truck to go ... where? Fuck that! And sliding the rifle barrel over the windowsill, he sighted in and fired, watching as one of his men fell to the ground. Wow, fucking gun is finally working. That'll teach them to desert me, Ringo thought as he looked for another target.

  He still had a lot of men out there. He saw them firing to the north and west and even south. If they could only get their shit together.

  Ahhh. A slave trying to run away, and instantly he was firing, emptying his clip in an attempt to hit her fleeing form. He wasn't sure which round hit her, but she went down just as the receiver locked into the rear position. Quickly he grabbed another full magazine from the pile beside him and, after ejecting the previous one, slid it home until he heard the click. With the push of a button, he was ready for another target. There, another slave was trying to get away, and it was Kelsey! Fucking bitch, he fumed as he started firing, walking his shots towards her crawling form. Below the tower he was shooting from, and somewhere from within the seminary, he heard gunfire and screams from men and women. Goddamn soldiers! He was even more furious. Let me kill Kelsey and then I’ll go down and take care of those fuckers myself.

  *****

  The Reaper slowly swung his rifle around, his eye peering through the scope as he searched for his target. He had just witnessed a marauder taken out by someone near the seminary—a target he had been just about to service when the disreputable form dropped. Then he saw one of the captive girls shot from the same direction. He didn’t know whether she was alive or dead, but this time he did see the angle, especially since the other's shots were now being directed towards another female, this one very young. The impact into the ground and the dirt splatter gave him direction and location, and instantly he had rotated into another position, zooming in.

  The enraged figure of a marauder filled his eye within the scope lense, firing steadily downward from an upper window in the bell tower. Jason focused in on the man’s face. He matched the description of the marauders’ leader, given to him by Andy. For the first time that evening the Reaper grinned. It was not a grin of mirth, but of pleasure at finding a target that needed to feel the Lord's wrath. A slight adjustment to his rifle and he fired, taking out what looked like an HK91 upper receiver, the metal fragments obviously splattering upward into the figure as Jason rotated another round into position and sighted again. Unbelievable. The man was actually starting to stand. For the second time that evening, Jason shot not to kill, but to wound or distract; he hit the other high in the shoulder, a light but painful wound. He did not want to kill the man just yet. The figure disappeared from view and the Reaper rotated into a position where he could view the girl again. Yes, she was still crawling away. Thank the Lord! Then he was on his tactical net speaking calmly.

  "Assault One. Paris Six. Status update." Almost immediately a response was received.

  "Red Six, Paris. Mopping up the seminary. Almost all hostiles down." The sound of close gunfire came over the net before the voice was back. "Confirmed all floors cleared with the exception of the tower. Proceeding there now."

  "I want him alive. He currently has a shoulder wound, but a painful one."

  "Roger that. Surprised you didn't take him out, Reaper."

  "I want him alive, the Lord will punish him!" The growl that issued forth was as cold as death itself.

  "Yes sir. Flash bang and secure."

  "Paris Six out!"

  "Red Six out."

  And the Reaper was hunting new targets, but most were already down. In the distance, he saw a great many vehicles starting up. Well that was interesting, and planned for, he thought.

  *****

  "Blue Two, Red Six, report!" Sokowski was calling for CWO-2 Winters, as he had been informed of Hewitt's condition and his evacuation to the hospital.

  "Blue Two, Red Six, nominal and hostages safe."

  "Continue to hold."

  "Roger that, Red Six.”

  "Fox Six!" Sokowski called again over the net.

  "Yes, sir," Rodriguez responded.

  "Inverted ‘L’ formation on the seminary; they're starting to run. I want you in support. Keep driving them south and east towards the parking lot. We're leaving the seminary now, having secured a person of interest. Support our flanks."

  "Yes, sir."

  Sokowski was outside, splitting his team into two squads. The first, headed by his XO Brady, he sent to clear the small chapel. He lined up the remaining four members of his team into a semblance of his former skirmish line. The marauder leader he’d left cuffed at wrists and ankles back in the seminary. After directing one of the former captives to keep pressure on the compresses he had hastily slapped front and back over the shoulder wound, he’d left. They would collect the bastard later, and if he suffered a little frostbite while waiting, that was fine as far as Sokowski was concerned.

  *****

  Rossi looked up from the girl he was suturing as another stretcher-bearing team rushed in with another soldier; from where Rossi stood, it looked bad.

  "You!" and he was pointing at one of the nurses-in-training. "Move this woman to post-op and finish the sutures ... now!" the last was barked when they didn't move fast enough. He already had the alcohol rag in his hand while simultaneously waving the team to bring the soldier over.

  "Put him down here, and you two, cut his clothes off!" Rossi was again in his element, multitasking at a fast pace and talking simultaneously to several groups.

  As the clothing was quickly stripped from the prone body of the solder, Rossi was already performing an initial assessment. As he checked for pupil dilation, he instantly recognized the face of Sergeant Schuster. There was no response, and a quick glance at the monitor checking blood pressure showed the veins were almost flat from blood loss. Oh my God, and that many wounds!

  "Kerrigan! Where are you on that patient, I need you here now!" Rossi shouted as a sinking feeling hit the pit of his stomach. He read the dog tags around Shue’s pale neck, noting the blood type, and shouted again, "Four whole pints of A neg stat!"

  "Pints or half pints?" the call came back, infuriating Rossi.

  "I said pints, Goddamn it, and we'll need more!"

  "Coming up, Doctor!" The hasty shout did not please him, as he was unused to his commands being questioned. His eyes swiveled upward to lock briefly with Nancy’s, who had already stripped off her gloves and was donning a
fresh pair.

  "I'm finishing up now, Doctor," she called.

  "If she's stable, drop it and assist, or we'll lose him." And as quick as that, she was running towards them.

  "Oh my God!" Nancy breathed as she peered down at Shue.

  "Those were my thoughts exactly. From the discoloration over most of the torso skin surface, he's suffering massive internal hemorrhaging and we need to stop it fast before he flat lines." A quick glance at the heart rate monitor showed Rossi that the patient was almost gone already, and he shifted into high speed. "Two full surgical trays, stat!" he barked.

  "Where do you want me to assist, Doctor?"

  "You will not assist, Doctor. You'll take the lower half, I'll take the upper, and pray to God that we can save this man." Rossi was not deeply religious. Yes, he believed in a higher power, yet what form that power took was a matter of debate so he didn't put much thought in it. However, this man was so badly wounded he should have died seven times over, and if there was any divine presence out there willing to lend a hand, then Rossi was willing to take it.

  "Yes, sir."

  "I want two IVs and blood in him now!" Rossi shouted at the nurse beside him, and picking up the first of many scalpels that would be used on this patient, he started cutting with one hand, the other gripping a pair of forceps, desperately searching for the vein or artery that was ruptured. From the spreading discoloration, Rossi knew it would be only one of several, and working with a calmness that belied the urgency of the situation, he shifted into an almost-blinding display of speed.