Tyler pointed to the abandoned guns on the parking lot. "You sure you want to do this?"
Marcy nodded.
Tyler pushed himself up to his feet then helped Marcy onto hers. Now close to making his charge, Tyler's stomach churned at the thought about what he was planning to do. The feeling wasn't foreign, yet it wasn't something he'd experienced recently. He knew it was his stomach's way of letting them know he still had a chance to back out.
A chance he almost considered taking.
"Ready?" he looked to his right, noticing the tremble in Marcy's hands.
"No." She let out a long breath. "But don't let that stop you."
Tyler smiled and looked around to make sure the path was still clear. Most of the action was happening up close to the building. The guardsmen who were still standing were struggling to hold formation against the massive charge.
The man in white was behind the enemy lines, picking off the attackers one or two at a time. He outclassed the attackers far more than the attackers outclassed the National Guard defending the hospital. The contrast was so vast that as long the Guard only needed to hold out for twenty or thirty minutes before the man in white handled the problem on his own.
But the Guard didn't have twenty or thirty minutes. If causalities kept up at the rate they had in the opening minutes of the fight, they'd be lucky to survive another five.
Tyler wasn't sure how much him and Marcy would help, but knew he had to try.
"Go!" Tyler took off at a full sprint while Marcy lagged behind. He got to the weapons a few seconds before Marcy, picked two up and handed one over once she reached his position. He popped the magazine free on each weapon to see how much ammo they had to work with. Since neither one of their previous owners had fired the weapons, both magazines were full to capacity, giving them thirty rounds each. Tyler searched the bodies of the nearby soldiers and grabbed an additional four magazines, which he split with Marcy. He led her back to the cover of the Humvee where he took a moment to show her how to operate the weapon. Namely how to hold it, switch between automatic and semi-automatic, and how to change out the magazines when one emptied.
He opted to set her weapon to full auto to start since he doubted she'd ever fired an M-16 before. He believed she stood a better chance at hitting a target with a three shot burst. His weapon he set to semi-automatic, opting for precise single shots to hit his target.
Tyler held the weapon up to his shoulder, to reacquaint himself with using the sight. Over twenty years of rust wearing off in seconds as he flipped the barrel of the gun between targets.
"You look like you've shot one of those before."
Tyler nodded. "Been a few years." He didn't have the heart to tell her he wished he never had to again. Especially in a battlefield where he was just as likely to inflict friendly fire casualties as he was back in the war. Where the man on your right was just as deadly as the one staring at you down the barrel of his own gun.
Tyler watched the scene play out for a moment, wanting to put himself in position to best help the others. With few exceptions, bullets were wasted against anyone who had passed through the black mist. Most the ones that hadn't were already dead, or had already fled. The ones that remained were otherwise indistinguishable from the others, so he had no way of knowing which targets they had the best chance of taking out. Then he caught a glimpse of the man in white and had an idea.
"Shoot at the ones closest to him." He pointed to the man in white. "If we distract them he'll be able to take them out a lot faster. Then let him handle the nasty ones in the front."
"Sounds like a plan."
Tyler took a knee then leveled his weapon at a man turning to face the one in white. He moved his sight to the center of the attacker's chest and moved the gun further ahead to compensate for his movement then squeezed the trigger.
The bright flash and subsequent pop caused his ears to ring. He immediately wished he'd grabbed the spare set of earplugs from the fallen soldier's packs when he'd picked up the ammunition, but it was too late to worry about that.
The bullet caught the attacker square in the chest, causing him to stumble forward, landing on his hands and knees just feet from the man in white, who welcomed him to the battle by removing his head from his body, allowing sprays of crimson to stain his perfect suit.
After Marcy sent a burst of fire into another attacker charging the man in white, Tyler turned his sights on a man holding what looked to be a sledge hammer. He was moving in an arc away from the action while trying to stay out of the man in white's field of vision. Tyler wasn't sure if the man could ignore damage like the ones who walked through the mist, but figured a direct hit with the head of the hammer would still hurt either way.
He moved his weapon along with the man's movements, keeping the aim on his head since he didn't want to risk hitting the one guy on his side. Tyler inhaled when the man stop, preparing himself for his shot. When the man charged, Tyler pulled the trigger. The loud report had his ears ringing even louder. The bullet hit the man in his shoulder, causing it to jerk back as he moved forward. It wasn't enough to stop his charge, but it was enough to make him drop the weapon which clattered loudly to the pavement. The sound drew the attention of the man in white, who sliced him in half through his midsection. Without support from the brain, the legs dropped to the ground, sending the man's torso sliding across the pavement, leaving a trail of blood and entrails behind him.
Another burst of fire from Marcy caught another man in the head, causing his head to explode in ball of brains and gore.
Tyler lined up another shot on a man hunkering down behind a sandbag barricade in the middle of the parking lot. He was holding a long range hunting rifle and had it aimed towards the front of the building. Tyler wasn't sure who the man's target was, but assumed it wasn't one of the others.
He lined up his shot, aiming the reticle at the man's head. Since he was too far away from the man in white to become his next target, he had to make his shot count. If he missed, the man's rifle would be aimed on him or Marcy, forcing them to find another place to hole up and fight back. And thanks to the vast open space on Tyler's part of the parking lot, he couldn't afford to miss.
Once he was sure he had the shot lined up, he held his breath, not wanting his breathing to move the gun out of position. Tyler pressed the trigger as something crashed into his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. He watched as the shot harmlessly pierced a sandbag, sending a spray of brown dust into the air. The man with the rifle, knowing he was a target, ducked behind the safety of the barrier and out of Tyler's sight.
Gripping the gun tight, he rolled on the ground and to his knees. He then raised the gun and aimed it at the spot he'd been set in just moments before. Marcy stood in front of him, her gun on the ground, arms held behind her, and her mouth gagged. The man behind her, wearing blue jeans and a black Punisher tee-shirt held a gun to her head.
"Drop it hero, or the bitch dies."
Tyler lifted the sight of the weapon, aiming the reticle between the man's eyes. "Can't do that." And he couldn't. Dropping the gun wasn't an option. He didn't like having his weapon aimed at her, but he knew if he let his guard down, the man holding the gun at her head would pull the trigger and then turn it on him.
"Fine by me. Stand there like an idiot while my friend sticks a knife into your back." The man smiled. "I'll wait."
Chapter Three
The hair on the back of Tyler's hair stood on end. He desperately wanted to look behind him to make sure the coast was clear, but knew if he did he would be inviting the man to turn the weapon on him and take him out without a fight. His combat instincts took over, allowing him to push the threat of attack out of his mind to focus on the man in front of him, the one holding his friend at gunpoint.
"Nice try," Tyler said, feigning a smile. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to drop your gun and let her go, or I'm going to open a hole in your skull."
Before the man could answer, Dan lea
pt from behind the Humvee and grabbed the mans arm, pulling it away from Marcy's head before he could pull the trigger. With the gun away from her head Marcy twisted away, yanking the man's arm to send him off balance.
Tyler moved the muzzle of the gun to follow the man's movements, but didn't have a clear enough shot to pull the trigger. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Marcy or Dan, two of the three people on the parking lot on his side.
Dan pulled a knife from his belt and rushed the man who struggled to remain on his feet. He swung the blade in a wide arc, catching the man in the throat, slicing it open from one side to the other. The man dropped the gun and held his hand to his throat as if he'd be able to stem the flow of blood long enough to get help. His face went flush within seconds and he dropped to the ground as the last of his blood left his body to pool below him on the pavement.
"Thanks for the save," Tyler said, lowering his weapon.
"I did it for the girl." Dan knelt and cleaned his blade on the shirt of the dead man. "Have to admit, hard to let a good shot like you die like that. Military?"
Tyler nodded.
"So, what's the plan?"
Tyler filled him in on what Marcy and he had been doing so far. "Can you shoot?"
Dan shook his head. "Never been a fan of guns." He looked down at the blade of his knife. "Never been a fan of these neither."
Tyler picked up Marcy's gun and handed it back to her. "You OK to shoot?"
"I..." her hands trembled and she nearly dropped the gun. "I don't know."
Tyler nodded. "It's OK. You did good."
Tyler wasn't sure he could take on the pack of attackers on his own, even if he had the man in white's help. Even with the men he'd been able to take down during their diversion, they were easily outnumbered five to one. He was about to line up a shot against a man moving against the man in white when his sights moved over a more lucrative target.
Mr. Fire.
Once the reticle crossed over the man, Tyler knew what he had to do. He and Mrs. Ice were clearly the ones leading the attack on the hospital. With Mrs. Ice already dead, Tyler felt that killing him was the key to the battle. Other than their superhuman strength, speed, and ability to take loads of damage, the others didn't seem to have any special powers. Not like Mr. Fire.
As Tyler lined up his sights on Mr. Fire, an image passed through his head. One of him being burnt to a crisp in the middle of the parking lot while Marcy and Dan watched helplessly from a few feet away. He imagined the heat coursing through him as the flames overtook his skin, scorching him deep. He let the image sink in for a moment as a reminder of what would happen if he were to miss the shot.
Or as a warning to what might happen if it landed.
Other than the opening salvo of the battle, Tyler hadn't seen what Mr. Fire was capable of. As far as he knew, he was as resilient to damage as the others, but he had no way of knowing for sure. He knew there was a chance, though remote, that even a shot that had taken down the others wouldn't do a thing to him. But leaving him on the parking lot alive to kill the guardsmen as he pleased, wasn't any better.
He exhaled as he brought the reticle over Mr. Fire's head. His body was a bigger target, but it was also likely not to work. Tyler thought about targeting his legs instead as a hope that crippling him would give the man in white enough time to finish him for good. But he knew if the man in white was held up for a moment too long, Tyler's flesh would become the consistency of a well done steak.
He felt his only chance was a killing blow. A bullet to the head that removed the body's ability to move. The others seemed to be susceptible to it. Tyler hoped Mr. Fire was too.
Once he was ready, he closed his eyes to visualize the bullet ripping through Mr. Fire's skull. He imagined the fragments of brain and gore spraying across the parking lot; imagined Mr. Fire's body falling lifelessly to the ground.
He opened his eyes and allowed them to refocus on his target. When they did Mr. Fire's face had changed.
"What the hell?" Tyler asked as he removed the sight from his eye.
"What's wrong?" Marcy asked, giving him a questioning look.
Tyler rubbed his eyes. "He changed."
"Who changed?" Dan asked. "The one with the sword?"
"No," Tyler said. "The one throwing the fire. He's..." Tyler stayed quiet for a moment, trying to make sense of it all in his head. Just moments ago Mr. Fire looked like he was in his mid to late thirties, but when Tyler was ready to pull the trigger he didn't look a day over ten. Either his eyes were playing tricks with him, or something far more sinister was at work.
One thing was certain, however. As long as Mr. Fire looked like a child, Tyler couldn't pull the trigger. He couldn't kill another child. Refused to snuff the life out of someone so young, even if he only looked to be.
Tyler lowered the barrel of the gun to the ground and rubbed his eyes.
"What are you doing, mate? He's tearing everyone apart," Dan wagged his fingers inches from Tyler's nose.
Tyler smacked the hand away. "I can't shoot a kid."
"A kid?" Dan said, irate. "You need your eyes checked."
Tyler couldn't argue with the statement, even though he hated Dan's tone. But it didn't change the fact that Tyler wasn't willing to pull the trigger.
"You can take the shot." Tyler offered Dan the gun, but Dan refused.
Marcy exhaled then grabbed the gun out of Tyler's hands. "I'll do it." She fumbled with the lever, trying to switch the gun from semi-automatic to full before holding the butt of the gun to Tyler who switched it for her.
"Some man you are," Dan crossed his arms and smirked.
"Says the man who refused to pick the gun up to begin with," Marcy chided. "Now shut up and let me concentrate." She said that knowing silence is relative. There wasn't any way she was going to get anything remotely close to silence, but as long as the men stopped bickering it would be enough.
She held the gun to her shoulder and lined up the sights with her eye. She wasn't sure she could make the shot from this distance, but she was at least willing to try. Doing anything was better than doing nothing. At least she'd be able to say she went down trying, With the way the world had gone crazy in the last few days, it was the least she could hope for.
Once Mr. Fire was in her sights, she held the gun in place for a moment to prepare for the kick. Her shoulder, already sore from the previous shooting, wouldn't feel great in the morning as it was, but she felt it could handle another burst or two of fire before she lost all feeling in her arm. If Mr. Fire was still standing after all that, then the boy could figure it out.
Here goes, she told herself, then pulled the trigger. Three rapid pops filled the air followed by the violent kick of the gun, sending a wave of numbness through her arm and shoulder. She dropped to a knee and grunted from the pain.
Marcy's eyes watered as she tried to find Mr. Fire across the parking lot. "Did I get him?"
Dan laughed. "Did you get him?" He knelt down and patted her on the shoulder. "Ripped his damn head off, you did."
"Tyler?" Marcy said, trying to smile through the pain. "Is it true?"
"True enough. If you didn't finish him, the man in white's sword did."
Marcy beamed even as the pain threatened to dampen her mood. She couldn't believe, through all that she'd hit him. Killed him. Tyler took the gun from her and helped her rest her back against the tire of the Humvee.
With Mr. Fire down, the rest of the attackers lost heart and ran. Those on the front lines, still entangled in melee with the National Guard were cut down within a few short steps. Many of the others were cut down by the man in white as they fled across the parking lot.
As the last of the attackers fled across the barrier and out of view the surviving guardsmen broke into a cheer. Tyler, Marcy, and Dan congratulated each other as well, but not nearly as loud as the guardsmen near the building.
"We need to go," Tyler said as he darted behind the Humvee, out of the view of the Guard. The others followed hi
s lead and dropped to a knee once they were out of sight.
With the chaos of the battle beginning to fade, Tyler took a moment to scan the civilians close to the hospital. "Where's your crew?"
"Haven't seen them for a while." Dan shrugged. "Not a one worth trying to get out."
"But those are your people," Marcy said. She couldn't comprehend how someone could flip their loyalty like a switch. Dan seemed like a capable guy, but this one made her question her ability to let him get close. She almost wished Tyler would speak up and force him to go his own way.
Tyler nodded. "Not sure we can get anyone else out." He knew they were lucky to get out on their own. But as they sat in the center of the parking lot, their escape still seemed so far away. With the melee up front, he wasn't sure what the guardsmen had seen. If he could tell, without a shadow of doubt, that they knew they weren't enemy combatants, he would just stand up and walk away. But unless he expected them to stand still while he walked back and asked if they could leave, his best bet was to take a shot and run.
"So," Marcy said, sounding disappointed. "What do we do now?"
"We have to make a run for it. Their focus will be on checking on their wounded and getting them inside to get treatment. As long as we stay low and quiet, we should be able to make it out of here in one piece."
"And what about him?" Dan pointed to the man in white, who was standing over Mr. Fire's body, watching the front of the hospital with determined eyes.
"We hope we didn't do anything to piss him off," Tyler smiled. "And we don't run that way."
"But we should follow him," Marcy said. "He was able to deal with the people and the fog. He might be able to help us."
"Help us what?" Dan chided. "We don't know him from the people on the other side of the fence. As far as we know, he's on their side."
"You're kidding right." Marcy shook her head and put her face in her palm.
"Do you know him?" Dan responded, fists clinched as if he were preparing to throw a punch.
Echoes of Tomorrow Season One: Episode Four (Echoes of Tomorrow: Season One Book 4) Page 2
