by Bobby Akart
Chapter 20
The Varnadore Building
Uptown Charlotte, North Carolina
“Alpha team in position. Over.” Alpha’s voice spoke in a hushed tone over the radio. Despite the activity outside the building, the top floor of the Varnadore was eerily quiet and still.
“Roger that, Alpha-Foxtrot. Bravo-Charlie, you’re a green light.” X-Ray came across the radio as calm and professional.
“Roger, X-Ray. Deploying smoke.”
Alpha leaned over to Hayden and whispered, “Follow my lead. I’m gonna clear one room at a time. You cover my six in the hallway.”
“Lead the—” Hayden began before being interrupted by the sounds of gunfire traveling up the elevator shafts from the ground floor.
Her body tensed as she lowered herself into a crouch and began to scan the dark hallway for movement. Then she heard it—the muffled scream of a child.
“Did you hear that? It was Hannah.”
“Yeah,” replied Alpha, whose adrenaline was now pumping through his body. “End of the hallway.”
Hayden rose out of her crouched position to move forward, but Alpha grabbed her arm.
“No, they’ve set up a gauntlet,” cautioned Alpha, breathing heavily through the mask. “There could be a gun behind every one of these office doors.”
“But she’s—”
“She’ll be there when we get there, too. We’ve gotta clear this floor first, Foxy.”
He paused for a moment and keyed his mic. “X-Ray, possible confirmation of the princess. Over.”
“Roger. They’re scurrying out the front doors like rats. Bravo-Charlie report that the ground level is clear and they’re moving to the next floor. Over.”
Alpha thought for a moment and responded, “Should you redeploy Delta to mop up the rats? Over.”
X-Ray replied with confidence, “Not necessary. They can’t run away fast enough. Over.”
“Roger that,” replied Alpha with a grin. “Advise Bravo team the princess is here. Use caution as they clear each floor. Bogies in the offices. Out.”
Alpha made eye contact with Hayden and nodded his head toward the hallway. “It’s on.”
Alpha approached the entry door of the first room, ignited a smoke grenade, and tossed it into the center of the former executive secretary’s office. He dropped to a knee and scanned the room for movement, using his trained eyes to detect the slightest change in his surroundings. Their challenge was to take out the anarchists without getting Hannah caught in the crossfire.
The dimly lit offices only received ambient light from the outside. While the new moon phase benefited the rescue teams in their approach to the building, it was a significant handicap once inside. Alpha had cautioned the team not to use their flashlights inside the building, as the light would give away their position. Also, while the smoke grenades helped to create confusion amongst the anarchists, it also rendered their night-vision monocular useless.
“Arrgh!” a man growled at Alpha as he lunged off a tabletop toward the steely-nerved former operator. Alpha brought his rifle around and plugged two rounds in the man’s chest. The sound of gunfire had detonated a panic bomb on the seventh floor.
“Alpha!” shouted Hayden as she opened fire. Several people scurried out of the offices and into the hallway. She couldn’t make out whether they were men or women, but she shot at their upper torsos. Hannah was less than five feet tall, so Hayden was comfortable shooting high.
Alpha backed out of the room and led the charge down the hallway. He began to shout as he fired rounds into the anarchists who lay writhing in pain on the concrete floor.
“Hannah! Hannah!” Hayden shouted.
There was no response.
“Cover me,” shouted Alpha as he swung right in the next room. He ignited another smoke grenade and tossed it toward the back of the room. He waited several seconds, and when nothing moved, he backed out of the space. “Next!”
They moved in tandem down the hallway. The next office door was twenty feet from the conference room. Alpha eased against the wall and prepared to enter the first door on his left. Suddenly, Hayden turned and fired several rounds in the direction of the service elevator.
“Get down,” she shouted, as a gunman had slipped in behind them and opened fire on their position. But as is often the case when an untrained shooter is involved, the adrenaline-fueled gunman aimed high and peppered the ceiling with his bullets.
Hayden caught a glimpse of his muzzle flash. It was a slight orange glow, but it was enough to provide her a target. She quickly adjusted her aim and squeezed the trigger, allowing the powerful weapon to bounce against her shoulder. She sprayed half a dozen rounds in the direction of the shooter, and some of them found their mark. The man screamed in agony and fell to the floor in a heap.
“Plug him again,” instructed Alpha.
Hayden walked slowly toward the body and, when she had a good view through the smoke, fired two more rounds into the man’s torso. He was dead. She dropped her magazine, stowed in her vest, and slapped in another.
A woman ran into the hallway and caught Alpha by surprise. Just as he swung his rifle in her direction, she shouted, “Please don’t shoot!”
His training ignored her empty plea. He shot her anyway, her limp body dropping a handgun as it hit the floor.
Hayden joined his side again as they moved forward, stepping over several dead bodies in their path. The space, devoid of ventilation, began to reek of smoke and the metallic smell of blood.
Alpha counted the kills in his head. “Nine,” he mumbled to Hayden and then pointed to the double doors of the conference room at the end of the hallway.
They arrived together and pressed themselves against the walls flanking the entrance, using the doorjambs as cover. They made eye contact, and then Alpha shouted, his deep voice reverberating off the walls.
“Chepe! This ends now. Let us have the girl, and I promise you’ll walk out of here alive.”
An evil grin came across his face as he spoke. Of course, he was lying.
Chapter 21
The Varnadore Building
Uptown Charlotte, North Carolina
Chepe pulled Hannah off the floor and dragged her into the kitchen through the stainless-steel swinging door. His plans of making a last stand were abandoned as he listened to his top people’s screams of pain. He’d handpicked his fighters to defend the top floor and their hostage, and his pursuers had killed them all, including the woman who begged them not to. At this point, Chepe didn’t like his chances, even with the hollow promise to let him go. He knew better.
“Come on, kid,” he snarled at Hannah. “I’m getting out of here, and I’ll hold you in front of me until I’m out the door. Get up!”
Hannah wrestled against his grip, but Chepe, nervous with anxiety and fright, was much stronger. He grabbed her by the arms with a death grip and shoved her toward the cabinet doors that led to the laundry chute. Hannah lost her balance and fell forward onto the hard floor, groaning in pain through the bandanna used to gag her.
Chepe dropped to his knees and opened the doors. He glanced down into the dark space below but couldn’t see anything. The utility room on the sixth floor didn’t have any windows and was empty except for the eight-foot-square laundry basket on casters centered under the opening. Earlier, he’d gathered up pillows and linens from the offices-turned-bedrooms to create a soft landing spot in the event an emergency escape was necessary.
“Go on, jump down there!” Chepe ordered Hannah, who fought him again. She looked down toward the floor ten feet below them.
“Uh-uh,” she grunted, apprehensively shaking her head.
“Yes, you will. Now go!”
Chepe forced her into the cabinet and pushed her headfirst into the basket below. Hannah dropped into the basket with a thump, followed by a moan.
“Come on out, Chepe!” Alpha yelled again through the door. “Your people downstairs have all run off. Everyone here is dead. I
’m giving you a chance to walk out of here. We just want that little girl back!”
Chepe was distracted by Alpha’s booming, bellowing voice taunting him through the conference room doors. He’d heard the gunfire from below. Then the mayhem in the hallway outside the conference room had rattled him to his core. He had one chance to escape, and it was now.
He backed into the void within the stainless-steel cabinet and dropped through the hole leading to the laundry basket below. Only, it wasn’t there.
Chepe was expecting a soft landing, and instead, his body crashed onto the concrete floor. His ankle turned unnaturally, sending pain shooting through his leg and into his back.
Hannah had recovered from the fall and crawled out of the laundry basket. Then she’d shoved it out of the way so Chepe didn’t have it to fall into.
“You little—!” Chepe’s last words were cut off as Alpha boomed from above, “We’re done fooling with you, Chepe!”
The sound of the conference room doors getting kicked in and furniture being tossed about caused Chepe to panic.
He frantically called out for Hannah, who’d hidden in the dark recesses of the laundry room behind a broken-down commercial washing machine.
Chepe yelled for her under his breath. “Where are you, kid! Come out or I’ll kill you!”
Hannah didn’t respond, but Alpha’s voice was getting closer. “Chepe! It’s time to give it up. Bring her to us safely and you live. If you don’t, the torture you’ll suffer will make you beg for death!”
“Dammit!” muttered Chepe in frustration. He tried to stand and then groaned in pain as his injured ankle caused his legs to buckle. He crawled toward the utility room door and found the handle. He pulled himself up and hopped through the exit into the hallway of the sixth floor.
Chepe abandoned his hostage and opted for self-preservation instead. He knew the building and bounced down the hallway on one leg until he reached a short hallway leading to the fire escape. Once there, he struggled with the old fire door, which refused to open.
Wrought with paranoia, he thought he heard footsteps in the hallway behind him, so he pulled his fist back and slammed it into the top half of the door, which was glass. The first punch didn’t break it out, but the second one did. Large shards of glass crashed onto the fire escape, and one piece ripped open his knuckles.
Frantic, he crawled through the opening, disregarding the damage done to his hand as he tumbled onto the steel mesh landing outside. He subconsciously took in the fresh air, and a feeling of freedom came over him.
“Almost there,” he mumbled as a smile came across his face.
Still hopping on one leg because his left ankle was most likely broken, Chepe made his way down the rusty fire escape stairs until he reached the second floor. At that point, he had to release a ladder that would fall to the ground.
Chepe pulled a piece of glass out of his hand and fumbled with the latches that held the ladder in place. Over the years, from lack of maintenance, the rust had taken hold and created a weld. Chepe pounded the steel mesh floor, causing his hand to bleed further.
He looked over the rail. The drop was over twenty feet. He was down to one ankle and couldn’t afford to lose the other.
He violently shook the ladder, hoping to break the rust weld loose. It seemed to give. He dropped to his knees once again and worked with the latches. Finally, one latch broke loose.
Chepe mustered all of his strength and tore at the other latch, trying to force it open as he could feel the pressure of his pursuers. Once again, in his paranoid state, he thought he heard someone on the stairs above him. He kept shaking the latch where it held the ladder in place, constantly looking upward to see if he’d been discovered.
His efforts paid off, much to his surprise, and chagrin. While he was focused on the people after him, the latch released and the heavy steel ladder flew down its rails toward the ground, ripping two fingers off in the process.
Chepe couldn’t control his agony as he yelled in pain. He immediately grasped his right hand and saw that his pinky and ring fingers were missing. Blood poured out of the wound and all over his body. The pain was so bad that he nearly passed out, but he managed to get control of himself.
He looked down to confirm that the ladder had reached bottom and began to climb down. With his broken ankle, he couldn’t put any weight on his left leg. He had to use his hands to lower his body—one bleeding profusely and the other still with smaller shards of glass embedded in it.
But Chepe persevered. He looked up the fire escape as he made his way downward. Blood poured out of his hand and drenched his face, obscuring his view. He was halfway down when he heard the sounds of sirens in the distance. The distraction caused him to instinctively turn toward the source, and when he did, he lost his grip.
Chepe tried to hold onto the rails as he slid downward. To slow his descent, he desperately searched with his right foot to find a rung, but he was unable to. His face, however, was more successful.
Only ten feet from the ground, Chepe’s open mouth caught a rung, knocking out several of his upper and lower teeth. The jolt was too much for him to endure and he lost his grip on the ladder’s rails. His body fell the final ten feet in a contorted twist, landing face-first on the concrete pavement.
Now his nose was broken. Chepe lay on the ground, motionless, prepared to die. The pain shooting through his body was so intense that he couldn’t focus on which part was the worst.
Despite the brutal beating he’d taken, Chepe was a survivor. He was still alive and had a chance.
He crawled under the canopy of the ground floor and looked for a way to pull himself up. A stack of crates, similar to the ones he’d used to stand tall and direct his anarchist army from, was just ahead. He crawled over to them, leaving a bloody trail like a slug crawling across hot pavement in the dead of summer.
With each motion forward, his hopes lifted. He felt for his car keys. He managed a bloody, toothless grin when he found them in his jeans pocket. He reached the crates and hoisted himself upright. Then, like a pogo stick, he quickly hopped toward his white Chevy Avalanche.
The pain was forgotten for now, as he used all of his strength to get into the tall pickup truck. He settled into the driver’s seat and caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. Blood mixed with mucus poured out of his nose and over his chin. It was a ghoulish sight, reminiscent of a horror flick, but it didn’t faze him.
“You should always kill the bad guy,” he said with a laugh. “Never let them live to fight another day.”
With a guttural laugh followed by a coughing fit that spewed blood and spit all over the dash, he inserted the key into the ignition and raced out of the parking lot. Chepe had escaped the bedlam at the Varnadore.
Chapter 22
The Varnadore Building
Uptown Charlotte, North Carolina
Alpha took one set of doors into the kitchen, and Hayden took the other. With their headlamps illuminated, they simultaneously kicked them open and burst into the darkened space. They searched the room, using the barrels of their rifles to pan the former kitchen in search of Chepe and Hannah. The room was empty.
Hayden got Alpha’s attention and used hand signals to point toward the slightly skewed doors to the laundry chute. Unsure if the space was large enough to hide Chepe and Hannah, the two proceeded with caution, shouldering their rifles and pulling their sidearms. Alpha raised his hand and counted down five fingers until he made a fist, indicating to Hayden that she should swing the doors open. He quickly moved in front of the cabinet and pointed his weapon into the void.
“Escape hatch?” He whispered his question.
Hayden glanced around the room one more time and dropped to a knee. She looked to the floor below them, allowing her headlamp to shine on the space where the laundry basket once stood. “I don’t know, but it’s the only way out of here.”
Alpha quickly alerted X-Ray and Bravo team that Chepe had escaped with Hannah to the six
th floor. He darted through the kitchen door, keeping his rifle ready to shoot anything that threatened him.
Hayden chased after him, her eyes checking every doorway and dead body as they made their way to the stairwell. When they reached the sixth floor, they slowed their pace and quietened their step. They nodded to one another, and Alpha burst into the hallway, facing right, while Hayden took the left side.
They’d illuminated their infrared laser sights on their rifles as well as the tactical flashlights attached to the weapons’ quad rails. The element of surprise was lost and now the two were hunting their frightened prey.
Room by room, they searched for Chepe, Hannah, and any anarchists who might attempt to ambush them. The sixth floor appeared to be empty. Then Hayden found the hallway leading to the fire escape. She cautiously approached the door and discovered the broken glass. She peeked outside and saw that there was blood on the steel landing and on the handrails.
“I think he escaped this way!” she shouted to Alpha.
He ran down the short hallway and took a look outside. Hayden moved in the opposite direction and entered the hallway.
“Hannah! Can you hear me? It’s Hayden. Your parents sent us to get you.”
Alpha joined in. “Hannah!”
Hayden walked slowly toward the utility room, where the door was left ajar. She’d cleared the room moments ago, but in her haste, she might’ve missed something.
Her flashlight lit up the room and she tried again, but in a softer tone of voice. “Hannah, baby, are you here? Your mom and dad miss you, and so does Handsome Dan. He’s tired of playing with Prowler.” Hayden managed a chuckle as she thought of the absurdity of those two wrestling with one another. It wouldn’t be a fair fight.
