Chapter 24

“You see him?” Reggie asked acne scars.

“Yeah, I see him.”

The skinny man’s lower body protruded from a small gap in the tangled mess of timbers, mattresses, and sheets as he shone his flashlight around. After a while, he wiggled his way backwards and stood before the concerned cop, who still held Linda by the arm.

“He’s gone. Broken neck, if I had to guess.”

“Goddammit,” Reggie muttered, then surveyed the mountain of debris. “Can we get this cleared?”

Acne scars shook his head. “No way. Looks like they got it wedged against the ceiling, all the way to the top of the stairs. No one’s going up or down without a chainsaw.”

Reggie turned to the younger man with the hat. “How many of them are up there?”

“I don’t know. I only saw two of them. Some big ass coon and a little chink girl, but I heard others.”

“How many girls live on that floor?” Reggie asked Linda.

The question was heard, but didn’t register. She stood silently in shock, staring at the pile of broken beds, but her mind was still downstairs. She felt the thump of the machine gun in her chest. The acrid smell of burning rubber and plastic from Mike’s car stung her nostrils. The screams of her terrified students as armed men, who she now suspected had never been members of Morgan Creek’s Police Department before the blackout, stormed into Overton House wielding assault weapons, rang in her ears.

Those National Guardsmen were supposed to be protecting them, but instead of doing their sworn duty, they left defenseless women and children behind to save Mike Messina. A child rapist. What hold did he have over them, that they would prioritize his worthless life over all of theirs combined? They even took their two nurses, and all of their medicine, with them.

The students and remaining faculty of Scirewood were left behind with nothing, except terror at the hands of armed men, hell bent on taking them all to Morgan Creek. What fate awaited them down there?

Linda’s nose exploded in pain, and she clutched her face as blood gushed into her hands. Reggie stood with his pistol raised over his shoulder, holding it by the barrel like a club.

“You want another one?” he shouted, flecks of spittle landing on her face. “Answer my fucking question, you old cunt!”

“What question?” she screamed, trying to pull away from him to cradle her broken nose, but he held her fast.

“I said, how many fucking girls live on that floor?”

“Eight! Eight girls!”

Her face throbbed, and she could barely see through the tears that filled her eyes. An apron of blood darkened the neckline of her dress. Reggie lowered his pistol, but kept it ready.

“Why do you make me have to do that shit?” he asked, then turned back to the barrier to consider the effort. “Eight girls, huh. Damn. Oh well, fuck ‘em. We’ve got plenty enough,” he said at last, holstering his sidearm and pulling Linda back down the stairs with him as she dripped blood onto the carpet. “Let’s get this place buttoned up. I want to get settled in. It’s going to be a long fucking night.”

Theresa lay on the bed in the dormitory supervisor’s bedroom, staring up at the ceiling when Mike’s beautiful face came into view. He smiled at her, and tears filled her eyes.

Oh Mike, you came back!

Of course I did. I’ll always come back for you.

The moment she’d dreamed of for so long had finally arrived. He moved between her legs and she felt the weight of his perfect, toned body on hers. His lips moved eagerly over her neck and her breasts, and then he penetrated her for the first time. The feeling of him inside of her caused her to cry out, and her cries drove him to new heights of urgency.

As he thrusted inside of her, over and over again, he whispered into her ear, I love you, Theresa, and her heart sang.

Sgt. Chapman glanced back over his shoulder one more time to make sure Kali was still keeping up. She was. He shook his head.

“I fucking called it,” he said to Cpl. Ibarra in a harsh whisper between panting breaths, as the two men trotted along the edge of a densely forested hillside. “You owe me five bucks.”

“Lucky guess,” Ibarra said dismissively.

The landscape ahead appeared in monochrome shades of green and black. Chapman had trouble adjusting to the way the binocular night vision goggles attached to his helmet skewed his depth perception. More than once, he’d caught his foot on a tree root that he swore was a few inches further away.

The three other members of the squad trailed a few dozen yards behind them.

Along with his M4 carbine, Specialist Draper also carried the large flat case containing the M24 sniper rifle. They brought it along mostly for long distance recon. No one in the squad had ever qualified for sniper school, but as an avid hunter and long-distance target shooter, he was determined to be the one most capable of handling such a sophisticated weapon system.

Just behind him, Staff Sgt. Pollard struggled to keep up, ladened as she was with her M4, the heavy M249 SAW suspended from a strap across her broad shoulders, and a pack full of spare ammo on her back.

Bringing up the rear was the newest squad member, Sgt. Sayavong. She was far too valuable to risk on the front line, but the med kits she carried, and her battlefield experience, could mean the difference between life and death for anyone injured on this mission.

Missing from the team was twenty-seven year old PFC Haylee Skansi. Still too sick to run, but more than capable of firing a weapon, she remained at the trailer to protect Mike and Renata, with an assist from several strategically placed Claymore mines covering the obvious approaches.

When the decision was made to join with the people at the school, the Staff Sergeant sent Chapman and Ibarra to scout for nearby rally points. Places close enough to the school that they could travel there on foot if necessary. When they found it, just a couple days ago, the trailer looked to have been abandoned for years, and became rally point one. Chapman never dreamed they’d need to use it so soon.

The rally point was situated just under a mile from the school, as the crow flies, with nothing but dense forest, a few shallow creeks, and undulating hills separating the two. Following a well-used hunting trail, it took them less than twelve minutes to cover the distance, and when Chapman saw the small white flags denoting the school’s crowded graveyard, he slowed and lifted his fist, halting the advance of those behind.

The two men scanned the vicinity. Nothing moved in either the surrounding woods, or in the open lawn separating their current position, on the extreme east end of the campus, from the back of Leavitt Hall, two hundred yards to the southwest. The promontory with Linda’s house lay roughly in line with the great stone building, an additional three hundred yards beyond, and the back of the dormitory was a little over three hundred yards to the northwest.

Chapman waved the squad forward. Staying low and behind cover, they took up positions on the edge of the treeline, while Cpl. Ibarra shifted to cover their rear.

Specialist Draper dropped to his knees and opened the hard shell protective case to remove the M24. The precious AN/PVS-10 Sniper Night Sight sat high on the Picatinny rail. Draper had Chapman take him in the Beast a couple miles down a fire road to a steep-walled gorge cut by one of Morgan Creek’s many tributaries, to zero in the weapon ahead of time. They would have to hope that he hadn’t bumped the case and shifted the sensitive optics on the run from the rally point.

Draper settled the rifle on top of his pack, got onto his belly, and then engaged the night sight. “Ready,” he said under his breath.

Pollard crawled closer. “Start with the stone building.”

Beginning at the rooftop and working his way down, Draper scanned the building. “No target. If anyone’s in that building, they’re far from a window, or on the other side. I don’t think anyone’s in there.”

“Check the principal’s house,” Pollard said. “Any obstacles by the entrance?”

“Negative, Staff Sergeant. No vehicles or hostiles visible.”

“They all gotta be in the dorm then,” she said.

Draper shifted his field of view. “I have movement on the fourth-floor. Looks like a few kids and that math teacher. Target. One asshole, third-floor window, southeast corner. I got another asshole, also on the third-floor, northeast corner. Looks like they’re covering their corners. Both seated, both armed, neither looks to be using optics.”

He shifted his view lower. “Target. Three more tangos outside, near the southwest corner, all armed, standing static and observing south, toward the road. They’re using those trailers we saw as cover.”

“That’s five,” Pollard said. “Where are the other four?”

“Still scanning, Staff Sergeant. Target ... oh, fuck me.” Draper pulled his head back for a moment and wiped his face, then reengaged the sight. “One tango, first-floor, northwest corner. Unarmed. He’s with, uh,...”

“Spit it out, Draper.”

“He’s with those girls who live on the first floor, Staff Sergeant.”

Pollard appeared unaffected by Draper’s report. “We still got three unaccounted for,” she said. “My guess is they got at least two watching the corners on the side we can’t see.”

“That would be my guess as well, Staff Sergeant.”

“Other one must be inside somewhere. Maybe in that room with those girls. Ibarra, get yer ass over here,” she said, waving over the Corporal. With everyone assembled, she laid out the plan.

“We’re gonna hit ‘em quick, and we’re gonna hit ‘em hard. Draper, you’re gonna sight in on that guard on the southeast corner. I’ll take Chapman, Ibarra, and Sayavong through the woods to the north. Ibarra and Sayavong, your assignment is the northeast corner. Me and Chapman will continue around to the west side to locate them other two assholes.”

She tapped the IR laser attached to her carbine. “Since we ain’t got no radios, we’re gonna have to use signals to coordinate. When you’re on target, signal with three flashes. Draper, we’ll all go on your shot. We’re gonna take all four at once. Then me and Chapman are gonna drop the three assholes out front from behind, with Draper on overwatch. Ibarra, you’ll come in strong through the back door, and we’ll kick in the front. We’ll meet you at that prom queen’s bedroom to take out them last two.”

“What if they try to take hostages, Staff Sergeant?” Chapman asked.

“Let ‘em. Ain’t none of them fuckers getting out alive. They put a gun to someone’s head, you don’t hesitate. You advance and shoot him anyway. With any luck, you’ll miss the girl. If not, well ... that’s why we brung Sergeant Sayavong here. Everyone clear?”

“Clear, Staff Sergeant.”

“Good. Chapman, Ibarra, Sayavong, you’re with me. Let’s go.”

Specialist Draper followed their slow progress through the night sight’s viewfinder. Chapman took point, leading the others around the north side of the campus toward the dormitory. Even with the faint aurora still shimmering in the sky, which played havoc with their optics by constantly altering the lighting conditions, the dense foliage shrouded their approach, and cast them in absolute darkness. Without night vision or a spotlight, they were invisible to any casual observer.

When they reached the pond, Ibarra and Sayavong peeled off to find a covered shooting position that would give the Corporal a clear line of sight to the guard on the northeast corner of the building. By the time he settled in and took aim, he was just forty or fifty yards from the guard’s window.

Chapman and Pollard continued around the north side of the building, moving slowly. Far more slowly than they otherwise would have, because there were precious few environmental noises to cover their approach. At this time of year, the woods were normally alive with the sounds of chirping crickets and katydids, buzzing cicadas, croaking toads and frogs, the haunting hoots of owls, the yips and howls of coyotes, and the eerie scream of foxes. Since the blackout, however, the woods stood unnaturally quiet, but for the rustle of leaves, the occasional drop of acorns, and the murmur of running water from the nearby stream.

The two soon disappeared around the building’s west side. While he waited for them to reappear at the corners, Draper checked the first floor bunk room again and clenched his jaw.

“Motherfucker.”

His finger brushed the trigger guard. He might be able to take him at this distance, without hitting the girl underneath him. He’d taken plenty of deer at this distance. Even further. One quick shot...

Three flashes from Ibarra’s laser pulled him back to the present. The Corporal was in position and ready to fire. Several minutes later, he saw more flashes. First from the northwest corner, then from the southwest corner. Chapman and Pollard were in position as well, waiting for his go.

Draper moved his sights back to his target, and settled into his final firing position. He took a deep breath, and put a small amount of pressure on the trigger to take up the slack.

“Okay, you fucker,” he said to himself, slowly exhaling through his nose.

One final adjustment to the left, to account for the light breeze rustling the treetops, and he was ready. Just as his breathing reached a natural pause, he pulled the trigger. The guard first lurched forward, then slumped backwards over the chair. Draper pulled back the bolt to eject the spent casing and chambered a fresh round.

The muted report of Draper’s shot was their signal to fire. Chapman pulled the trigger and sent a quick, short burst of rounds flying, shattering the window, and striking his target in the chest and neck. He heard the Staff Sergeant’s shots come at nearly the same time. When his target clutched his throat and disappeared from sight, Chapman brought his carbine down to sight in on the three guards near the porte-cochere and moved quickly to his right to join Pollard behind one of the car port’s stone clad pillars.

The three guards reacted much quicker than expected. Just as he made it to the pillar, the sound of gunfire and whizzing bullets filled the air. The guards hadn’t seen where the shots came from, but they’d heard them, and fired randomly into the darkness hoping to hit something.