by Tom Barber
Seeing Archer was struggling too, Ledger started to speak.
But then they heard the sound of cars arriving outside.
Because of the fire still burning the door frame and the fact they were standing well back from the entrance, the occupants of the cars hadn’t spotted the two NYPD cops in the corridor, but Archer and Ledger could see them.
As the occupants climbed out, they were instantly recognisable as the four guys who’d been impersonating the NSA operatives all night.
‘We can’t get people out this side…with them there,’ Ledger said, pushing himself away from the wall then using all his strength to scoop up an assault rifle one of the two dead cops had dropped.
Taking deep breaths, his strength starting to return as he sucked in more oxygen, Archer bent down and picked up the other rifle.
‘We have to find another way out,’ he said, the two men checking the weapons, both moving more slowly than usual. ‘Can you do it?’
‘You need me here,’ Ledger said, pulling a spare magazine from one of the dead cop’s pockets along with a frag grenade, passing another to Archer.
‘They need you down there more!’ Archer said, pocketing the grenade. Turning, he saw the four men pulling weapons from the trunks of their cars. He pointed in the direction where Jack and Jesse had just gone. ‘Try to clear another exit!’
Turning, Ledger made his way slowly down the corridor. Halfway along, he saw two double-doors at the other end leading to the south exit of the school; they also had one of those rings looped through the handle.
Lifting the rifle, trying to hold it steady, he unleashed a burst at the ring.
Outside their two cars, snapping forward the working parts on their weapons, the four Peleteros gun-runners suddenly heard a massive explosion come from the other side of the building, the double-doors their side already on fire.
They smiled.
It had begun.
Leaving the four bound NSA operatives in the cars, whose bodies they intended to dump inside the building once the job was done and subsequently frame for the shooting, the four men moved towards the burning doorway, weapons up.
However, they stopped dead just outside the building when they saw the two bodies lying in the corridor.
And as they stared, a grenade rolled down the corridor towards them.
Reacting instantly, the four men split, diving each side of the door as it exploded, the remnants of the door frame shielding them from the worst of the blast but Sanchez taking some frag to the lower leg, cursing in pain. Getting to his feet, Alva stood with his back to the wall beside the damaged frame and risked a glance around the corner, trying to work out who had just attacked them.
A split-second later he snapped back as bullets blasted out part of the frame by his head, wondering if he was seeing things.
In that split-second, he’d seen the man firing at them.
It was Sam Archer.
His back to the wall, Alva stared at his men in confusion wondering if he was hallucinating; they’d killed Archer less than thirty minutes ago.
One man standing between the killers and over a hundred innocent men, women and children.
‘I know why you’re doing this,’ Archer’s voice called. ‘You’re not NSA. You’re Rozio.’
Looking at each other, recognising the voice and realising who it belonged to, the men didn’t respond, the shrill ring of the fire alarm sounding in the quiet.
Beside him, Alva saw Sanchez and Martinez both pull grenades out, their fingers looping through the pins.
Alva nodded, edging to the smouldering frame, raising his voice to provide a distraction.
‘We know about Vargas,’ he called to Archer. ‘We know about Isabel. We know everything about you. Let us through and we’ll let you live.’
Standing alone in the corridor, his sights on the frame but fighting the blurriness at the edges of his vision, Archer didn’t reply for a moment.
Then he shook his head.
‘If you think I’d ever let you past then you don’t know anything about me at all.’
Jack and Jesse had run inside the auditorium to find complete pandemonium as people desperately searched for their kids. Jack spotted Tom, the guy who’d lent him his cell phone by the fire exit at the side of the stage, people crowding behind him knowing it was the only exit point in the room apart from the main doors, all desperate to get out.
He was kicking the door as hard as he could, but it wouldn’t budge.
‘It’s jammed!’ he shouted as Jack ran forward.
Suddenly, Ledger burst in through the doors, carrying an assault rifle. As people started to scream in panic, instantly recognising the man whose face had been dominating the news for the past twenty four hours, he limped forward towards the fire exit.
‘Get back!’ he shouted to the group crowding round the door, who were staring at him in terror. None of them moved.
‘Do it!’ Jack and Jesse shouted, running forward and herding everyone back to a safe distance.
Reaching the door, Ledger tried it but it wouldn’t move. Pulling the grenade he’d taken from the dead man outside, he laid it on top of the bar to the door, the ring facing out.
‘Get back as far as you can!’ he called, people doing as he asked, no-one challenging the man with the rifle and grenade.
Pulling the pin, he limped back quickly and went for cover behind some chairs, everyone else already ducking down.
The explosion that followed was sudden, people screaming as the grenade went off; rising, his ears ringing, Ledger saw through the smoke that the fire exit was now clear, the door blasted open.
‘Go!’ he shouted, pushing people towards the exit. ‘Get out of here!’
At the FBI Command Post, Sorenson and his team had just received a call from Metro Dispatch, who told them Angela Barrera was with a wounded Federal agent and that both Harry Ledger and a team of killers were on their way to a Junior High school across town.
Apparently, Barrera was claiming that Ledger was innocent.
‘I thought Metro had people on site?’ Sorenson said.
‘We can’t get through to them,’ Metro Dispatch responded.
‘All teams, code red, Reagan Junior High School,’ Sorenson ordered. ‘Multiple active shooters on site! Everyone in the area, get over there!’
FIFTY SIX
Archer had his sights on the frame when he saw two shapes thrown into the corridor from outside.
He didn’t hesitate, hurling himself down a corridor to his left just as the grenades exploded. Moments later, knowing the men would be following through, he aimed the assault rifle round the corner, squeezing off single shots.
In response, the wall beside his head was shot to pieces; Archer knew he couldn’t hold his position, outnumbered four to one. Squeezing off more shots to buy himself precious seconds, he looked down the main corridor and saw a sign pointing to the theatre, gym and swimming pool.
He knew these men intended to get to the people inside; somehow he needed to make sure they didn’t.
He just hoped after what he’d said about Rozio that they wanted to get him more.
The four men moved forward, Archer’s fire having stopped.
Taking control of the corridor, they swung out.
It was empty.
However, their access to the theatre was now clear, Archer no longer in their way. Making hand signals to ‘Riley’ and ‘Tarketti’, in actuality Lopez and Martinez, Alva and Sanchez went looking for Archer, wanting to finish the job they thought they’d done earlier. Somehow, he’d figure out they were Rozio; if he made it out of here, all this could be for nothing. He knew their game.
They headed towards the gym and pool while Lopez ran back to the front entrance where Lamas and Hernandez had left a heavy black holdall. He retrieved it, taking the bag back down the main corridor before placing it carefully beside the stairs leading up to the next floor.
Then he and Martinez turned and headed towards the
auditorium.
Kicking open the door, they were just in time to see Jack Hardy and the kid Jesse Mayer following what appeared to be the last of the parents and kids out of a fire exit to the right of the stage.
The auditorium was empty save for abandoned bags, plastic cups and programmes littering the floor.
‘Son of a bitch!’ one of the two men shouted in frustration, lifting his rifle as his partner turned and ran back out of the theatre to try and cut them off outside.
Ledger had gone through the fire exit first, making sure the outside was clear and that the desperate, terrified people in the theatre weren’t running straight into a trap. Looking around him, not seeing an immediate threat, he suddenly became aware of the cacophony of sirens from Metro cop cars racing into the parking lot.
As he watched them arrive, Ledger knew if the cops found him he’d be put in cuffs, then he’d be unable to help Archer, Jack and Jesse who were still inside. He couldn’t let that happen.
Turning to try and fight his way back through the sea of people now pouring through the small fire door, he suddenly saw a figure carrying an assault rifle suddenly appear at the front entrance fifty yards away. Ledger’s rifle was already rising and he fired, his usual accuracy deserting him in his weakened state, only managing to hit the man in the leg. The guy shouted in pain, immediately pulling back into the building, out of sight.
‘Drop your weapon!’ a cop screamed from outside his car, aiming his pistol at Ledger across the hood just as the last of the parents came through the fire exit.
Knowing the cop wouldn’t shoot with so many people behind him, Ledger ducked back into the sea of parents and children, pushing his way back into the building.
Inside the school on the ground floor, Alva and Sanchez were still searching for Archer. Even if they didn’t manage to carry out this final event and their planned targets escaped from the auditorium, Archer’s death was now a number one priority. Somehow that son of a bitch had discovered who they were. If he made it out of here all their planning and preparation, everything they’d done tonight and what they had planned for the future, all would be in vain.
Alva began to feel a cold rage building in him as he realised their dream of huge profits was fading rapidly and all because this cop just wouldn’t die.
But Archer had disappeared.
The side corridor led to entrances for the gym, swimming pool and changing rooms, the main doors to the facility twenty feet ahead, the door to a small store closet, its door ajar and the changing rooms just beyond. As Alva remained in the corridor, Sanchez glanced in the store but it was empty.
He pushed open the first changing room door and stepped in, the hot and humid air immediately enveloping him as he lifted his rifle. Easing his way inside, the Mexican Peletero smiled as he looked across the room towards the door that led to the pool; he saw blood on the handle.
His rifle in the aim, he jerked his head towards the door to Alva who was standing behind him; Sanchez moved forward into the changing area. The room was damp and muggy, a strong chemical smell in the air, the floor wet.
However, he’d only taken a couple of steps towards the swimming pool door when Alva noticed something against the far wall.
A large white container tipped on its side.
He looked down and realised that the liquid they were standing in wasn’t water.
Standing just the other side of the door to the pool, having tipped the container he’d found in the store closet onto its side, Archer had waited until he heard the door open and counted slowly to five.
Then he opened the door and threw in the flaming Zippo he’d taken from the electrician’s van in Barry Farms.
He heard the muffled whoomf as the room erupted in flames, followed by a scream, and moments later a man burst through the doorway fully alight. He staggered forward, heading for the pool, but Archer shot him in the legs before he made it, the chemical on the floor of the changing room burning fiercely behind him.
However, before Archer could make another move another figure suddenly burst through the main entrance to the pool behind him. Archer swung round and went to fire, but he was too late, the guy already on him.
The two men traded blows as the other gun-runner lay still, flames licking around the changing room door.
Jack, holding Maia, and Jesse had been about to follow the last of the parents through the fire exit when the two gunmen had burst through the main doors, one of them running straight back out, presumably to intercept the people fleeing outside. The other had lifted his gun, aiming at Jack and Jesse, but the teenager had got there first and fired at the man with the pistol he’d taken from the dead man in the corridor, unloading with rounds from the Rozio handgun.
As he and Jack crouched behind the seats at the front of the theatre, Jesse continued to fire, the man he was trying to hit taking cover; then the pistol clicked dry.
He kept pulling the trigger but the magazine was empty.
Staring at the gun in horror, he glanced at Jack, who returned the look, holding Maia who had her eyes squeezed shut tightly.
Then Jesse saw Jack’s gaze move past him.
Turning, Jesse found himself staring at the gunman, who’d flanked them during Jesse’s wild firing, his rifle now aimed directly at him.
Staring at the muzzle of the rifle, waiting for it to fire, Jesse was aware of a flash of movement from the fire exit.
As the gunman turned, Ledger swung his own rifle up with one hand like a bat and hit the guy square in the face. It was a clean strike, causing the man to drop his rifle, but he recovered fast. Working on the very last reserves of his strength, Ledger went for where he could do the most damage with the least power and tried to hit the man in the groin, but the guy blocked it and pulled a knife.
Seeing what was about to happen, Jesse leapt forward and grabbed the guy’s arm, holding on with all his strength. Swatting the kid away, the guy swung back to Ledger; still holding Maia and covering her eyes, Jack kicked his legs out, causing the man to stagger, giving Ledger the opportunity to grab his hands. He managed to turn the blade sideways, away from him, but felt his strength rapidly giving out. His left arm was virtually useless; he didn’t have the power.
Knowing he had to act instantly or it’d all be over, still holding the knife, Ledger snapped forward with a head-butt before ramming himself forward, using the last of his strength to push the knife around the edge of the bulletproof vest by the man’s armpit, the blade slamming into the guy’s chest.
Moments later the gunman toppled sideways and slumped in a heap, dead.
Watching him go down, Ledger swayed, completely spent.
Then he staggered to the edge of the stage and slowly sagged to the floor too.
Earlier in the day, Archer had only just managed to hold his own against this man, but now he was exhausted, wounded and still dealing with the effect of his drowning. The guy who’d been impersonating Carl Thorne lit him up with punches and kicks, every second one getting through, Archer’s head and body snapping back as he took the blows. As he tried to defend himself, Archer knew he was spent and had to come up with something fast.
He took a kick to the chest, which knocked him back onto the hard tiles surrounding the swimming pool. Trying to rise, but his body not responding, Archer looked at the Mexican gun-runner, who grinned down at him.
‘Not many people can say they’ve drowned twice in one day,’ the man said, grabbing Archer’s hair and shoving his head into the swimming pool. Archer started resisting desperately but the man was too strong.
He felt his breath running out again, that purple pressure coming back and with it the terror of impending death.
Then he went limp.
Holding on for a few more moments, Alva released his grip and leaned back.
Never killed the same man twice, he thought with a grin as he started to rise.
But having held his breath for as long as he could, Archer suddenly reared up and hit the unsuspecting
gun-runner full in the face, taking him completely by surprise.
Sucking in a huge breath, Archer hit the guy twice more before he could recover, not giving him a chance to retaliate. Grabbing the man’s torso as he staggered, Archer hip tossed him in a judo throw, the guy landing on the hard tiles beside the edge of the swimming pool. He was winded by the impact and Archer used that brief advantage to ram the man’s face into the water.
The guy’s arms thrashed and flailed as he fought for his life but Archer pushed him down even harder, not making the mistake this man had just made, the tables finally turned.
The guy continued to thrash around but Archer was relentless.
And the man’s movements finally ceased.
Archer continued to hold him down until he was sure he was dead then released his grip, the man remaining slumped over the pool’s edge, his head still in the water.
Scooping up the dead man’s assault rifle, Archer turned and ran out of the room. Sprinting towards the theatre, he burst in and stopped in surprise as he saw one of their attackers lying on the floor by the stage, blood pooled around him from a knife buried in the side of his chest.
Ledger was sitting with his back to the stage, Jesse beside him.
‘Jesus Christ, Harry,’ Archer said, running forward and slinging the gun over his shoulder. ‘I thought I was having a bad day.’
Ledger looked at him hazily but then suddenly tipped sideways. Archer grabbed him and slapped him hard in the face, Ledger’s eyes flickering open then closing again.
‘No, no, no!’ Jesse said. ‘Stay awake!’
‘Do you want to live or die?’ Archer shouted at Ledger, slapping him again.
Ledger’s eyes opened. ‘I want…to live.’
‘So get up!’
‘I will...if you stop hitting…me.’
Using all his strength, Archer hauled him upright, Jesse helping him.
‘Jack said his daughter was still in the building!’ Jesse said, jerking his head towards the fire exit. ‘He just took the other kid through there. He was gonna come back for the other one but he hasn’t yet. The cops can’t be letting him back in.’
