As instructed, his people threw their launchers to the ground in front of them, then kneeled to pick up their second AT4, making them ready.
"Last two targets people, make them count!" Then he was firing on the last of the vehicles as it was turning, obviously trying to get away as fifteen new rockets headed outward.
This time there were fewer missed and Olsen shielded his eyes at the tremendous explosions that engulfed both remaining vehicles. He quickly scanned the surrounding area but so far no runners were seen.
"Cease fire, cease fire. Do not fire your second launcher. That's it people, we did it and good job!"
Cheers rang out around him as the assembled men and women hugged and slapped each other on the backs. Olsen grunted as his own back was slapped, then shook hands with several of those closest to him before activating his headset.
"Assault Force Two to Paris Six, over," he called.
"Paris to Two, report!" the Reaper’s brusque voice was heard.
"Mission executed and objective complete!"
"Good work, Two,"
"Well Reaper, there weren't as many as we thought there would be."
"That's because many are surrendering. Now get your people along phase line four and watch for stragglers."
"Roger that Paris, Two out!" Olsen nodded at the words, and then began calling his people together. Fourteen smiling faces greeted him as they crowded close.
"All right troops, grab your guns, and double-time to those three houses. Stay in cover beside the windows and watch for any stragglers to come out of the woods." Phase line four was the three houses bordering the open field south of the cemetery, and right next to Olsen's position. The north side of the field butted against a thick stand of trees, where on the far side stood the cemetery fence. The field was wide enough to afford them a clear view of anyone that might try to escape in that direction. Operational orders indicated his force was to give any enemy spotted a single chance to surrender. If they raised a weapon or tried to run, they were to be shot. Olsen hoped for both.
*****
The Reaper frowned as he watched the proceedings below him through the lens of his binoculars. There were a lot of raised hands down there, and already teams were carrying wounded combatants to the triage set up at the catacombs while others were rounding up the prisoners. Every man had a pocketful of zip ties taken from an electrical warehouse the day before, and Jason continued to watch as an ever-larger group of seated figures accumulated in an open area of the parking lot.
He had already issued orders to round up the prisoners, send the wounded to be field treated, and for warm blankets to be brought to the captives. They would decide later what to do with the captives. The Reaper would let them make that decision for themselves, as he was satisfied with the number they had just sent to Hell. Quickly he scanned the woods across the cemetery to the east, but the distance was too great to see if any of the godless had made it to safety there. He was sure that some had escaped, but shrugged, for he knew that those that had would be running for a very long time. He keyed his radio one last time and spoke.
"Paris Six to support elements. Clear the seminary and transfer the freed captives there once the area is secure. Bring in the portable heaters and let’s warm them up." A chorus of yes sirs greeted his words and the Reaper knew they were on the move. Two auxiliary teams of men and women, mostly women, would drag any bodies out of the seminary then install the portable heaters to warm the place up. This had all been planned for.
It was time to get down there and mop things up. With that final thought, the Reaper slung his rifle and magazine bag, then started climbing down the silo. The sun was now up and it looked like it was going to be a beautiful day.
*****
The man whimpered as Sokowski roughly zip-tied his wrists behind his back, then pushed him to the waiting cluster of prisoners. He was one of the last, and Sokowski quickly counted almost forty that had surrendered. That's about right, given the overall numbers, he thought. Now, just one more to collect.
"Area secure, support teams move up!" he called out over his radio, then grabbed Brady to give him a hand with the last one. The one who appeared to be the leader of this band of thugs. They’d left him tied up at the seminary. "Let's go, Brady!"
As they approached, Sokowski saw with surprise that most of the windows were still intact and a support team at the main doorway to the seminary was trying to push it open, which caused him to frown. When they had left earlier after securing the prisoner for the Reaper, the door had opened and closed easily.
"What the hell is going on here?" he growled as he and Brady walked up to the women standing outside.
"We don't know. It's blocked from inside, we think." Sokowski blinked at those words and nodded at Brady. After trying the door and seeing it only move inward a few inches, both men put their shoulders to it and shoved. Slowly the door moved open and Sokowski was finally able to squeeze inside the narrow opening they'd made, Inside, he found furniture of every sort piled against its inner surface. He was getting a bad feeling about this; he turned quickly towards where he had left their captive.
Standing there before him were six women, splattered with blood, and lying before them was the man he had come to collect. Sokowski grunted, for six knives were sticking straight up out of the body, which appeared to have been stabbed well over a hundred times. He shook his head slowly and keyed his microphone to the command channel.
"Red Six to Paris Six, over."
"Go Red Six."
"That person of interest you wanted alive, Reaper?"
"Yes?"
"I'm afraid some of his captives got to him first."
"Then the Lord's will has been done. Paris out!" The Reaper’s voice was cold as he cleared the channel.
By now, Brady had squeezed inside the building also, and both men proceeded to clear the improvised barricade from the doorway. Sokowski figured it could all be sorted out later.
*****
Janet stared down at the bodies of Bill and Scott, as tears trickled down her cheeks. Moving into the cemetery, they had surprised a group of the bad guys and Bill had been the first to fall as fire was exchanged between the two groups. Then Scott had fallen as he ran to Bill’s rescue, and Andy's friend Bruce had been severely wounded. Softly she caressed Bill’s face as she knelt beside him. For all of his protectiveness and juvenile attempts to get her to be his girlfriend, she would still miss him tremendously.
"Rest in peace, Bill and Scott," she murmured as she moved to check on the next fallen body to check for vital signs.
*****
Rossi tried to still his trembling hands as he prepared for the next casualty to be laid before him. As the man was slid onto the table, Rossi recognized him as a member of one of the survivor groups they had teamed up with. He didn’t know his name, but it was another gunshot wound to the abdomen. He sighed and got to work, as he did so, his hands ceased to tremble. He and Kerrigan had been at this for over five hours now, and both were exhausted. They had saved a great many lives, but the sheet-draped forms of nine bodies lined up in the hallway outside attested to the fact that not all could be saved. Amongst those nine, two were from Special Forces Team Blue. He had met those men before and during the plane ride here to Paris. He deeply regretted being unable to save them, and knew that Blue Team seemed to have suffered the brunt of the casualties. He could only hope that their commander, Captain Hewitt, would pull through.
As he made his first incision to expose the wound, it occurred to him that this morning he had worked on members of every team and group, with Rodriguez's being the lightest in terms of wounded. That stood to reason, however, as he knew they had been in those big armored cars with the guns on top. Only Sgt. Schuster had needed treatment, and Rossi hoped he would also pull through, although it was too soon to tell. As he gazed down at the opened cavity before him, he thought, Hmmm, perforated upper alimentary canal, and exit through muscle tissue in the side. Not too bad if I can
keep it from becoming infected after I perform the repair. The upper intestine had a bullet hole through it, and said bullet had then exited the side of the victim. Rossi got to work.
*****
Rodriguez and his men were all helping to remove the bodies from various buildings. Trucks had been brought up to carry the deceased human filth to a yet-to-be-determined location for mass burial. He knew his team had been lucky to suffer only one casualty. The M-ATVs had been impervious to small arms fire, and the few grenades the marauders had left had not been used against his force. Only Shue had been wounded and, from what Rodriguez understood, he might not make it. He had been pissed off when he finally found out that Shue had given his protective armor to another man on his team, but understood the reason for it.
"Alright, grab his feet, Hamilton," he said as his hands clenched down, gripping the fabric of the dead marauder’s coat. Hamilton, Barber, and Grady were with him in the chapel, and they’d almost finished clearing it. As they carried the dead to a waiting truck, he surveyed his surroundings, noting idly that the place would need a fresh coat of paint and a shitload of cleaning before it could ever be used for its original purposes again.
"Sure, Sergeant, and only two left, we might get to eat breakfast after all," responded Hamilton, causing Rodriguez to grimace. How the man could think of food right now was beyond him.
"Sure, Hamilton, sure," and together they tossed the body on top of the others lying there.
*****
Chapter 26
Kelsey slowly walked up the stairs to the top floor of the seminary, going straight to the room she had been forced to share with that man, Ringo. She was glad he was dead, and doubly glad she'd been able to help him die. Her parents were dead, her brother was dead, and her life was probably over. She didn't know all these new people that had fought her captors, but hoped they would be a little bit kinder than those they had destroyed.
Kelsey was only fourteen, but felt so much older than that now. During the last few weeks she’d had to understand and embrace the word cunning. Now she needed something to bargain with, and she thought she knew just where to find that something.
She approached the bed, then knelt. Sliding her hands beneath the mattress, she felt the items hidden there and drew them out: a bundle of maps and a small notebook. She would use these as her bargaining power. She was so very cold, even though the others were setting up heaters downstairs, and she pulled a blanket from the bed to drape around herself, then exited the room and proceeded back downstairs.
An imposing, bearded man stood within the main foyer when she re-entered, and she shivered from more than the cold as she saw his dead eyes. Slowly she approached, holding the items out in trembling hands. The man saw her approach and knelt on one knee, which surprised her. His action caused the bottom of the large gun he carried to thump when it came to rest against the floor. Then he spoke, and again she shivered at the perceived death sentence she heard in his voice.
"What do you have there, child?" His voice was low, more of a growl, and her fright intensified, causing her hands to shake uncontrollably as she dropped the objects they held. The man immediately grabbed her hands in his and she didn't pull them away, for she was terrified of being beaten again. But his grasp was gentle, and one she knew she could pull away from at any moment. She looked into his eyes again and saw a soft smile in them, where seconds before she had seen death. Now his visage held kindness and hope, and slowly she stopped shaking as her own hope blossomed within her. She spoke.
*****
Her voice was so faint and timid the Reaper had to lean forward as he grasped the girl’s hands. She was obviously terrified. When she dropped the objects she’d carried, he had reached out and held onto her. Here was clearly a story that begged to be told, and he smiled kindly and nodded in encouragement for her to speak.
"My name is Kelsey, and I don't want to be hurt again. Please don't hurt me, mister. I'll do anything you ask but I don't want to be sold like the others. I want to stay with my friends. I brought you those," and now her gaze travelled to the maps and notebook lying on the floor between them.
The Reaper’s heart thudded within his chest as he witnessed the look of hope and terror on the little one’s face. She was deathly afraid of him, yet afraid to pull back for fear of being hurt. Yet again, he knew this mission of the Lord’s was his place to be, as he responded.
"What are those, Kelsey?" he asked in a gentle voice. Jason did not release her hands, for initially she had been shaking uncontrollably, but was now calming down. He wanted to help dissipate the extreme terror she carried within her.
"Those, sir? They are the Mas ... Ringo's. He thought them important and kept them hidden from the others."
"Please call me Jason, little one, and never refer to that evil man as master again. What are they?"
"They are the maps ... Jason ..."—the Reaper could tell she struggled with his name, and grimaced internally at what she must have been put through—"of the groups Ringo sold us to, and lists of what these places needed from him." The last was almost a whisper, and the Reaper had to lean close to hear those final words. That she needed a bath and hot food was obvious. Gently he nodded at her, then turned sideways to one of the women.
"Would you take this young lady back to the complex and get her a hot bath and clean clothes?" It was a request, but not spoken as such, and the woman instantly came over and took the girl in her arms, leading her away as Jason spoke again.
"Child!"
Both paused when they heard the Reaper.
"You are safe now. This lady will get you a hot bath and warm food. You're safe."
He saw that the girl was still too scared to respond, and waved them out as he gathered the items from the floor, examining them.
*****
"What do we do with the captives?" Sokowski asked the Reaper as they stood outside. Before them on the ground were almost forty men. All were disheveled, some with light wounds that had been treated, and many exhibiting the signs of drug addiction.
"Good question. Take them back and store them in an empty warehouse for now. No need to take the cuffs off. We'll decide their fates shortly.”
"Yes sir," and Sokowski was directing his men to load up the captives onto waiting busses. They would be transported fifteen to a bus, and two of his men would ride in each along with several men and women from the other groups. This would be a secure post operation and he wanted no screw-ups. As he turned away, he saw the Reaper was again reading from the notebook he had acquired, and was looking at a map he held in his other hand.
*****
Rossi slowly washed up in the sink basin beside Nancy Kerrigan. It was well past noon, and he was exhausted. He needed something to eat and then he needed some sleep. The urgency of crisis surgery had taken its toll on his body. I’m not as young as I used to be, he thought as he glanced in Nancy's direction. She was almost finished, and as he peered closer he saw tears streaming down her cheeks. He knew their origin. They had lost a total of eleven friendly patients, and another six would be touch and go for the next few days. He was especially worried about Sergeant Schuster; he dried his hands before laying his right on Nancy’s shoulder and clearing his throat.
"Doctor, we did the best we could, and all that any man, or woman, could do. We can't save everyone, we can only do the best we are capable of. Both of us saved many more lives than those that now lie in the corridor outside this room. Be proud of that.”
"I understand, Doctor, but I still can't help thinking that if I had only been a little quicker, knew a little more, if we had more doctors, if ..." and she quieted as Rossi held his hand up.
"We did the very best we could under the circumstances." Rossi paused as he remembered his own past in similar situations. "My experience is that this is the way it is. There is never enough time, or doctors, or trained personal to help. It’s the way of things in this new world. We deal with it and move forward." Then he shut up as she hugged him, and s
lowly he returned the embrace as both shed tears for the lost souls lying not twenty feet from them.
"Thank you for calling me doctor," she whispered, and Rossi hugged her tighter as he whispered back, "You did better than many surgeons I've worked with in the past. You are a doctor now, and don’t you ever forget it!"
*****
"Listen! Each will have their say, but first we need to address something important to your survival." The Reaper gazed out at the assembly before him. All whom could be spared were here. Rodriguez and Andy, Janet and Tom, along with other sub-leaders of this group of survivors. They had finished treating the wounded and had buried the dead. The marauder dead they had buried in a mass grave. The others, their comrades, had been buried in individual graves within the cemetery they had helped liberate. Ceremonies had been performed by a lay minister who happened to be part of Rodriguez's group, and now they were all assembled within one of the larger warehouses to decide many fates. The Reaper's voice rose again.
"Many of you thought to move to Mexico City. This is a bad idea. It's twenty times the size of Paris, and you'll be all winter trying to clear the undead out. This is a strong city that you've already shed blood in, making it yours. There is plenty of food here and much more in the big box stores in Moberly, less than ten miles away. This city is easily defended from both Hell's minions and others that would compromise your safety. I recommend you stay here and build on it. I've talked with Newaygo and there is a natural gas refinery and generating plant not far from here to the north. Within weeks, you can have electricity back, and Newaygo is willing to help with that. Now discuss it and decide." With that, Jason turned away and went back to the notebook he had been given by Kelsey, as arguments erupted around him.
The Reaper: No Mercy Page 21
