by Rounds, Mark
Sergeant Mix reversed the shotgun and butt stroked alongside of his head knocking him back into his chair.
“There is always one,” said Eveleth sadly.
“The rest of the store is clear sir,” said Duty. “We have rounded up thirty-three survivors. The snipers outside took down seven with at least eight unarmed individuals allowed to run. There are four wounded and eight dead inside the store.”
“Any casualties on our side?” asked Eveleth looking around.
“Body armor stopped most of the threats,” said Duty, “but two of our guys suffered broken bones from scuffles. Some of the hostiles were using spiked bats as weapons. One soldier likely has a broken rib from a bullet impact on the side of his armor.”
“Any blue on blue?” asked Eveleth for friendly fire had been one of his biggest worries for the plan called for separating his teams.
“No sir,” said Duty smiling. “Fire discipline was excellent.”
“Very good,” said Eveleth nodding. “Call for extraction Sergeant Stirling.”
July 15th, Wednesday, 10:32 pm PDT
Madigan Medical Center, Joint Base Fort Lewis-McChord, Tacoma WA
Thankfully, the security policeman’s call to his supervisor had gone straight up the chain to Captain Lassiter, who identified Amber and Chris and put the squad under Amber’s control until he got there.
There were only a few lights on at the hospital, just enough for the night staff to take care of their patients. Chris rushed the door, only to be stopped by an armed guard.
“Halt and identify yourself!” shouted the guard, pointing an M-870 shotgun at them.
“He’s with me, Charley,” said the sergeant of the roving patrol. “Lassiter is on his way down and there is some sort of problem up in the isolation ward.”
“We haven’t heard word one,” said the guard suspiciously. “But come up to the door and we can authenticate you,” said the guard raising his weapon to port arms.
“We don’t have time for this!” shouted Amber as she bolted by the guard.
“Halt,” shouted the guard as he again began to point his weapon at Amber, but Chris was ready and tackled him, taking him from behind and effectively disarming him. He looked up momentarily to see Amber disappearing around the corner. His relief was cut short by the patrol leader deploying a taser. Chris had been tased in training before, but this caught him totally by surprise and he folded up into the fetal position before he even realized it.
“There was no call for that!” said the patrol sergeant as he tried to disentangle Chris from his platoon mate.
“You don’t get it,” said Chris panting as he vigorously pointed toward the hospital entrance. “The guy in the isolation ward can … I don’t know … control minds. Amber is the only one who can fight it.”
“How about we go see?” said the skeptical sergeant. “You first.”
Just then, a sedan pulled up and out hopped Captain Lassiter and two marines with riot guns who looked tough enough to chew nails.
“What the hell is going on here, Sergeant?” demanded Lassiter, his M-9 in his hand.
“Sir, the man and his accomplice just forced their way into the hospital, against standing orders sir,” said the patrol sergeant formally. “He claims there is some sort of … person in there who can control minds.”
“He’s right, Sergeant,” said Lassiter distractedly and then he looked at Chris. “What should we do, Vaughn?”
“We ought to get in there right now,” said Chris as he tried to get up, but his wound hadn’t completely healed and he was still tangled up with the door guard. “There is no telling what could happen.”
“That’s what worries me,” said Lassiter. “We could bust in there, only to play right into Nergüi’s plans. I think we should wait out here, but that might also be his plan, to get at Amber.”
“Sergeant,” said Lassiter looking at the patrol leader and suddenly making coming to a decision. “Tell your men, if an older man with a non-military haircut in a hospital gown comes out that door, shoot him. Don’t talk to him, don’t ask questions, and for God’s sake, don’t hesitate! Is that clear.”
“Begging your pardon sir,” said the sergeant, “but you’re not in my chain of command. My rules of engagement …”
“That will do!” shouted Lassiter, finally losing his legendary temper. Then he pointed at the older of the two Marines who had arrived with him.
“Corporal, are my orders clear?”
“Aye aye, sir” said the Marine.
“Give Vaughn his shotgun,” said Lassiter grabbing Chris by the arm and hauled him roughly to his feet. Then Lassiter half dragged and half carried Chris into the hospital.
July 15th, Wednesday, 10:33 pm PDT
Providence Medical Research Center, Spokane WA
“CRASH!!!”
The plate glass front window disintegrated into a myriad of razor sharp fragments as the breached charge detonated. It was followed by a fusillade of automatic weapons fire. The poor unfortunate mercenaries unlucky enough to be in the hallway were killed or severely wounded by the shrapnel created by the disintegration of the window and the bullets that followed.
As soon as the fire abated, Master Sergeant Filby quietly peered around the corner. All he could see was smoke and the prostrate bodies of Macklin’s mercenaries. He moved ahead quietly but swiftly bringing LaPoint and Ireland with him. They reached the door of the large lab space and Filby peered through the shattered window in the door of the large lab. He saw an impossibly large black man pointing a weapon at a much smaller man of native descent who was barely conscious. Looking to the left, he also saw a group of unarmed lab technicians huddled over to one side and there was the jackpot! Dr. Robert Strickland, the man they had been briefed to extract was propped up in a chair on the other side of the room. The two armed men in the room were looking around, no doubt distracted by the explosion of the breaching charge and the rising crescendo of small arms fire that followed.
Filby knew he had just seconds before the men in the room regained their composure, so he signaled LaPoint and then dove through the shattered window. His roll carried him several feet forward until he could reach the large black man. Up close, he looked even more massive than he did through the door. Filby let the momentum of his dive carry him forward into a fighting stance from which he aimed a snap kick at the giant’s knee. Only the knee wasn’t there. With reaction times and speed that bested his own, Filby watched the black man avoid his blow and begin to point a weapon in his direction.
Filby felt rather than heard the report of an M870 behind him, the pellets embedding themselves harmlessly into the ceiling. LaPoint, afraid of hitting the focus of the rescue, opted to distract rather than take down the hostile in front of Filby. The distraction gave Filby an opening and he wasted no time in launching a lung punch to the gut of the black man who took it full on. To Filby’s amazement, his target seemed to shake it off and came forward. LaPoint fired again and this time Filby heard the shattering of the door lock as LaPoint blasted the lock and then kicked the door wide open.
Filby’s adversary made to strike him, then all was lost in a cloud of acrid smoke. Filby lost sight of the two armed men as his eyes watered and his throat closed up.
Dropping to his knees he and began to low crawl out the door as the air was marginally better near the ground. Meanwhile, he heard a number of industrial strength blowers come on line and the smoke quickly cleared.
As soon as he could clear his eyes, he could see Dr. Strickland going from window to window, throwing them open and turning on every fan in the exhaust hoods around the room. His nemesis was nowhere in sight.
“Sorry,” said Dr. Strickland as he coughed. “I had gathered the chemicals for tear gas and had them in the lab, but it took a couple of seconds to get them together. I hope I didn’t do wrong.”
“No sir,” said Filby training his weapon around the room. He noted that the two other members of his team were even more serio
usly affected by the gas than he was. “We were on the losing end of it. You saved our bacon.”
“Good! What should we do now?” asked Strickland.
“You’re coming with us,” said Filby reaching for the research scientist’s sleeve.
“I have promised these people I would get them out,” said Strickland as he evaded Filby’s hand and pointed to the group of lab technicians.
“How many people are on your team?” said Filby looking around at the growing number of people as others filed in from the adjacent room.
“Twenty-three,” said Strickland, “including four children.”
“La Point, get LT. Price,” said Filby gesturing towards the main door. “We have an unbriefed situation here.”
July 15th, Wednesday, 10:34 pm PDT
Madigan Medical Center, Joint Base Fort Lewis-McChord, Tacoma WA
Chris gathered his wits as Lassiter hustled him down the hall. After a few steps, he shook off Lassiter’s support.
“I can do this,” said Chris, a little quiver in his voice betrayed the fact that he was recovering from both being tased and the rough handling of his wounds. “The isolation ward is this way … and thanks.”
“You may not be thanking me after this is over,” said Lassiter as they rounded the corner and headed toward the isolation ward. Further conversation was not possible as they approached the isolation ward door. Lassiter nodded to Chris who took up a position beside the door. Lassiter, pistol in hand, tried the door. To his surprise, it was open.
“Come in,” said a voice that Chris knew only too well as that of Nergüi.
“Lay your weapons down,” said Nergüi as Chris entered the room. He could see Amber lying in a heap near the bed and Nergüi with a scalpel at Mary Kline’s throat.
“Let’s take things nice and easy,” said Chris pointing his shot gun pointed at Nergüi’s head. “This doesn’t have to end badly.”
“It won’t,” said Nergüi, “Now drop the shotgun before I cut her throat.”
“If you cut her throat,” said Chris, his shotgun not wavering from Nergüi’s head, “I’ll shoot you where you stand.”
“Now why didn’t I think of that,” said Nergüi as he released Mary. At the same time, what felt like a sledge hammer blow struck Chris’s mind. The shotgun clattered to the floor as Chris grabbed his head.
“And I haven’t forgotten your friend either,” said Nergüi. The next sound was a groan from Lassiter.
“Unfortunately,” said Nergüi wearily, “as much as I would like to kill the both of you and the rest of the people in this room, I need you. I am still weaker than I would like and the drugs have taken a toll. So I will require your assistance. If you are a willing participant, I’ll let you go; if not, I’ll still get what I want and then I’ll kill you in a most painful matter, which you are only sampling right now. You have ten seconds to decide.”
As soon as Nergüi was done speaking, the pain in Chris’s head ramped up dramatically. He knew he had a single chance to break this hold but it was going to take all he had.
July 15th, Wednesday, 10:37 pm PDT
One Mile West of the Providence Medical Research Center, Spokane WA
“Ma’am, incoming fire has dropped off markedly,” said Sergeant Finkbiner.
“Right,” said Captain Jennifer Stutesman as she looked forward with her binoculars. All the hostiles she could see were either running or bleeding. “Send a runner back to the jamming truck and tell them to stop the music. I think we can make the run to the target with little interference but I want to coordinate with higher and not have another blue on blue incident.”
“Yes Ma’am,” said Finkbiner who left straightaway. Soon, Jen heard the RPM’s of the diesel generator slack off.
“Ma’am,” said Senior Airman Hernandez, her RTO, “I have Red Rover Control on the horn. You want to speak to them?”
“Damn straight,” said Jen as she grabbed the radio. “Red Rover Control, this is Red Rover Six do you copy?”
“Red Rover Six, this is Red Rover One,” said the voice of Colonel Phillips. “What’s your situation?”
“Sir, we have lost two Humvees,” said Jen forcing herself to calm down. “We have ten WIA and four KIA. We are still operational. I can move on the target as soon as I am cleared. We have cleared the blocking force. I estimate at least thirty hostile KIA, maybe more. I am requesting a dust off for my wounded.”
“Red Rover Six,” said Colonel Phillips. “We need you to close on the target. Fire red and green flares as you approach the target and keep calling on guard. Your challenge is ‘ball park’ their reply is ‘Wrigley’. We are only in partial communication with them, but they need to transport at least twenty civilians out of the target area.”
“Say again control?” said Jen who was having a hard time believing her ears. “Twenty civilians? We were briefed that the target was a single …”
“Yes, I know,” said Phillips interrupting, “But there have been … complications. If you have to, you can leave part of your team at the target and we can get them out on a second airlift.”
“Has the threat been neutralized?” asked Jen.
“Negative,” said Phillips. “His forces have taken a lot of casualties based on fragmentary reports, but they are still in play.”
“Roger that,” said Jen. “We can’t get them all out in one lift. I recommend that the first airborne lift take out casualties. I will remain on site with volunteers for a follow-on airlift. Is there any possibility of a resupply? We’re low on everything.”
“We’ll get the team on site to share what they have,” said Phillips. “I hope that you won’t be there that long. If there is any ammo left on the inbound choppers, we’ll make sure they offload.”
“Roger, will comply,” said Jen who then nodded to the Hernandez to break the connection.
“Thanks for a big fat nothing,” thought Jen to herself bitterly.
“Finkbiner!” said Jen at the top of her lungs, “Let’s get this show on the road!”
July 15th, Wednesday, 10:39 pm PDT
Army Air Field, Joint Base Fort Lewis-McChord, Tacoma WA
Major Eveleth’s team was setting down on the helipad when General Bossell’s car drove up to them.
“Congratulations!” said Bossell shaking Eveleth’s hand. “We got the success code. Any casualties?”
“Cracked ribs and a broken arm,” said Eveleth. “Everybody is on their feet. We have intel’s prisoners, along with several others. Where is the debrief? There are also wounded prisoners, some of whom are addicted. Where is Captain Lassiter?”
“His aide says he is signed out to Madigan,” said Bossell, “and there is a security alert on going there. We have a team in route, so, for the time being, we’ll treat your troops and prisoners in the hangar. I have a company of regular infantry for security. Your team can stand down.”
Bossell and Eveleth were walking back to check the wounded who were just disembarking when an Air Force sedan came racing up to the general’s car, screeching to a halt within feet of the General himself.
“General,” shouted Captain Nixon from the window of the sedan as the car rocked to a stop. “We have a situation. I can’t raise Captain Lassiter. There is a Marine team on site along with an Army security patrol. Their orders from Captain Lassiter were to shoot anyone resembling Nergüi should he try to leave the building. Lassiter entered the building with Highway Patrol Sergeant Vaughn and Deputy Hoskins and have not been heard from since. The Army team leader sent in a two-man team to find Lassiter, but they have not returned.”
“What have you rolled on this?” said Bossell.
“Sir, the Army is slow walking this,” said a clearly frustrated Nixon. “That’s why I came here. Nothing has rolled, nor will it unless I get authorization from higher. That’s why I’m here.”
“I’ll fix that!” said an angry Bossell as he reached for the microphone in his car.
“Sir,” said Eveleth diffidently, “if
I may? After I detach my medics and wounded for care, I have a team of eight operators and an Army sniper team. We have over half of our basic load of ammo. Using the Chinook we returned in, we can be over the target in two minutes and rappel down to the roof of the medical center. All we need is your authorization.”
“You have it Major,” said Bossell who set down the microphone. “Here are my orders. Enter Madigan Medical Center and extract Captain Lassiter and the two civilians. If Nergüi is not restrained, shoot him. This is the fourth time he has gotten out of control. Eventually, he is going to find a way out. If he can be subdued safely, go ahead, but don’t endanger your troops. With Nergüi’s ability to influence peoples’ brains, the risk factor is high. You are the onsite commander until I get there. Is that clear?”
“Absolutely sir!” said Eveleth who cranked off a parade ground salute and then turned to his troops who had clustered around. “Snake eaters! We brief on the chopper. We have a new mission. Load up!”
July 15th, Wednesday, 10:42 pm PDT
Providence Medical Research Center, Spokane WA
Macklin stumbled down the hall, partially held erect by Ngengi’s big right hand. As soon as his eyes cleared, Macklin nodded to Ngengi, who released him.
“Gather up all the mercenaries you can find and meet me in the vehicle garage in ten minutes,” said Macklin.
“We are going to take back Strickland then?” asked Ngengi.
“No,” said Macklin looking around the corner. “We don’t have enough troops to do that. Most have probably run off as it is.”
“Then I will kill them,” said Ngengi viciously.
“We don’t have time!” said an exasperated Macklin. “Use your head. They came in with helicopters and there is a land column inbound. We have minutes at most to clear this building before they rush in with organized troops. Our so-called troops are scattered all over and many are leaving. We need to get out and regroup.”
“They should die!” said Ngengi, “all of them, Strickland, his lab assistants and most of all, Little Bear. I almost had him!”
