A New World [7] Takedown (25 page)

I look around at each Red Team member and receive an okay. We each check our selector switches and, turning to Gonzalez, I give a quick head nod. She, McCafferty, and Bri rise silently and head to the opposite wall keeping to the outside of the stairwell. You can cut through the tension each of us exudes as we soundlessly take our positions.

I pull a flash bang and wiggle the pin out. I would like to toss a few hand grenades up but our close proximity precludes that. I toss the canister up, aiming for a clear spot within the group of milling night runners. The last thing I want is to actually hit one of them and have it roll back down the stairs into our position.

The can arcs up over the stairs and hits the floor. It bounces a couple of times with metallic clinks and comes to rest against the far hallway wall. We bury our faces against the wall in order not to white out our NVGs, rendering them useless, and cover our ears. The explosion shakes the walls. Looking around quickly, night runners stagger about disoriented.

Our suppressed bursts are lost in the overwhelming shrieks, but the effects are not. Night runners crumple immediately on the stairs, with some rolling or sliding down their length, as Gonzalez’, McCafferty’s, and Bri’s bullets slam into them. The first row nearest us falls as if a taken down by a huge machete. Blood splashes outward as tissue is torn apart by the speeding projectiles. Henderson’s, Denton’s, Robert’s, and my rounds join nanoseconds later, sweeping the milling night runners off their feet. The walls light up in an endless barrage of strobe lights.

The night runners surviving the first horrific volley look around in confusion before slowly regaining their senses and pinpointing where the destruction is coming from. With shrieks that seem to erupt from a single source, they change directions, seeking to get to their newfound prey – us. In their effort, they trample over bodies lying in contorted positions on the stairs. Most of the efforts are short-lived as our continuous fire pours into their midst. More tumble down the steps or fall where they are. Screams of agony and pain mix with the shrieks of the eager hunters. Rivulets of blood make their way down the side of the stairs, a few become thicker and begin to stream, running or dripping, to the steps below.

The milling night runners are quickly taken down. The four of us on the landing take care of the ones who rush in from the side hall. The ranks on the stairs thin. The ones above are impeded and having problems negotiating the ranks of dead and wounded lying on the steps. However hindered they might be, there is still a mass of them between us and the soldiers and kids above, but, for now, we have a small opening.

“Now! Push upward. Gonzalez, you three have the hall. Make sure you watch out for any injured. Cover us and keep our backsides clear. We’ll take the stairs and push up. Denton, deal with the wounded,” I shout.

Gonzalez, McCafferty, and Bri slam fresh mags into their carbines and charge upward with the rest of us chasing after. Stepping over bodies, they round the corner into the hall, quickly spreading out, and begin to fire. I and the others swing around to the stairs and begin to pour fire into the night runners remaining on the first flight. I drop a near empty mag and begin to ram a fresh one in when one of the night runners launches off the steps and leaps into the air, heading directly for me. With its mouth open in an ear-piercing shriek, it stretches its arms out toward me. There’s no way I can complete the reload and bring my gun up in time.

The snarling face vanishes in a mist of dark spray. Its trajectory is altered and it sails between Henderson and me, landing on the floor with a heavy thud. Robert’s smoking barrel in my periphery tells me he just saved my bacon. However, this has allowed another night runner to dive into the air, descending at a rapid pace directly at Robert. I still haven’t reloaded and he isn’t able to turn quickly enough.

I open up and scream a picture message of “NO!” The night runner’s expression, with its lips peeled back in a snarl revealing a set of broken teeth, changes to one of confusion. This does nothing to arrest its swift dive however. Timing it, I bring the butt of my M-4 up and slam it into the side of the creature’s face, feeling the jolt roll up my arms and into my shoulder. It spins in mid-air, its body slamming into both of us crosswise high on our chests. The forceful impact knocks both us off our feet and we land heavily across several other bodies on the floor.

The core of the night runner body is across my chest, effectively pinning my arms and me beneath it. Its chest lies across Robert. The night runner begins thrashing and squirming, growling in an attempt to get at Robert. Its face lies close to Robert, but it can’t immediately get to him without shifting positions. That doesn’t prevent it from trying, though. I feel the vibrations of a deep growl coming from the night runner. I try to get leverage with my arms, but I can only wriggle like the foul-smelling creature above. Beside me, I feel Robert struggling to do the same.

“Shoot it! Shoot the motherfucker!” I shout, thinking Robert might have his weapon free.

The struggling ceases instantly and I feel dead weight settle on me. Looking up, I see Denton standing with his weapon lowered and aimed at the night runner’s head. Denton then quickly moves the body so Robert and I can stand.

With only Henderson holding the stairs, the night runners gained some headway down them. The only reason we weren’t quickly overrun while we were being so rudely interrupted is because of the bodies heaped on the stairs. Night runners attempting to traverse downward slip and stumble on the piles.

Glancing to the side, I see Gonzalez, McCafferty, and Bri sending their rounds down the hall into night runners streaking along its length. The stench of the air that once only held the reek of body odor is now a mixture of gunpowder and the iron smell of spilt blood. Robert and I throw our rounds into the fray on the stairs once again. The gain made by the night runners is quickly lost as they are rapidly cut down.

I would push upward but we’d run into the same problems the night runners are having – the bodies on the stairs are in the way. The night runners are trapped and have nowhere to go. They make a concerted effort to get to us, hurling themselves forward. Our rounds crash into them and they fall, joining the bodies of those on the steps, some sliding all of the way down to our feet.

The abruptness of the near silence that enfolds the stairwell is unsettling. My ears ring from the loud noise we were subjected to. Several pained groans and snarls come from the mass of bodies and the only shrieks to be heard come from the far end of the hallway. I imagine the stairs at the other end of the hall are packed with night runners but they are keeping to themselves for now. Perhaps the messages delivered by Gonzalez, McCafferty, and Bri have convinced the night runners that the hallway is not a good place to be.

“You good?” I call out to Gonzalez.

“Good here, sir,” she answers.

“Keep it up. Henderson, keep a watch on the stairs. Robert and I will clear a path through this mess, Denton, same job – deal with the wounded as we make our way up,” I state.

It takes time, but we clear a narrow path by dragging the bodies down the stairs and depositing them in the hall. The firing from upstairs has tapered off and the only interruption to our progress is Denton sending the injured night runners into whatever life they go to next.

Gonzalez, McCafferty, and Bri stay to guard the hallway. I leave Henderson to keep the stairs we just traversed clear. With Denton and Robert, I creep up the narrow path we cleared, keeping in mind that there may still be some wounded or others hiding past the next landing. The sight of the numerous bodies, along with the powerful reek, is more than eerie.

We climb with caution. The night runners are unpredictable. Take for instance, their usual relentless nature, yet now, another mass of them inhabits the stairs at the north end but they are doing nothing but filling the interior with their horrible shrieks. I’m sure they’re over there trying to figure out some new feat of magic to use against us. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to see them come down through the ceiling and assault us as we pass under. The very thought gives me a shiver and I keep a wary eye on the tiles overhead.

“Reynolds, Jack here. We’re about to the top of the stairs. We may not look pretty, but please don’t shoot us,” I radio.

“Copy that, sir. We’re standing down to the south,” she responds.

“Are the kids ready?” I ask.

“They will be shortly.”

“Okay, let’s make this quick. Those at the other end of the building aren’t going to stay conveniently complacent for long.”

Arriving at the top, I see where a previous barricade has been torn asunder. I peek around the corner, verifying that Reynolds does in fact have the south side standing down. It would suck if she didn’t know the south end of this building from a horse’s mane and we have our heads taken off as we merrily waltz into the hallway as if we are frolicking through a meadow. Tables and overturned bookshelves are stacked across the hall with two soldiers behind them holding weapons at the ready. I give a quick wave, which they return, and enter the hall.

I send Denton down to assist Henderson with keeping the lower stairs clear. We may need to leave in a hurry and it would be very cool if we didn’t have to fight every step of the way.

Approaching the barrier, I see the same setup farther down the hall. The five soldiers stationed there take the occasional shot at a night runner that emerges too far into the hall. The night runners’ screams, while not as loud as at the stairs we came up, fill the building with their shrill calls. I also notice that all of the soldiers are wearing night vision goggles. They aren’t the gen3 like we are using (gen4 in civilian versions), but without those, their time here would have been drastically shortened.

“Sir, I’m Sergeant Reynolds,” one of the soldiers says, shouting to be heard over the deafening noise thundering down the hall from the far stairwell.

“Jack…Jack Walker,” I say, returning her shake. “Sorry to cut the pleasantries short, but we really do need to move.”

“Fredericks, Torval. Get the kids. The rest of you, prepare to move out,” she shouts.

Two of the soldiers break off from the far group and disappear into an open doorway in the middle of their small fortification. As they gather the kids, I notice their construction efforts. All of the doors on this level have been boarded up with thick plywood.

“We have the inside doors nailed shut in addition to boarding them up,” Reynolds says, noticing my inspection. “Our weak point was the stairs.”

I merely nod, wanting them to hurry. I’m keyed up from the fight up the stairs and we are still in a night runner-infested building – the last place I want to be. Not only that, but my daughter is a floor below me helping keep our route clear. Yeah, they need to effing hurry.

“Thanks for coming to get us, sir. I don’t know what we’d have done if you didn’t.”

“No worries, sergeant. I’m glad we could help. There were a couple of moments when I thought we’d have to turn around. And I seriously don’t want to appear rude, but I have my son here with me, and my daughter a floor below holding the way open for us. If we could really hurry, I’d appreciate it,” I state.

“Your daughter?” she asks, incredulously.

“Yeah.”

“We will, sir. It’s just that…well…it’s not the easiest getting eleven deaf kids to understand us. None of us know sign language. It’s a lot of pointing by us and confused looks by them. They’re young and don’t really comprehend what we’re trying to say.”

Deaf kids
, I think, doing a mental face-palm.
I totally forgot that heading up the stairs
.

“I understand. Sorry, I’m just not a fan being in a night runner lair. When we leave, head down the stairs, there’s a group down there who will lead you to the Stryker. It’ll be crowded in there, but we’ll have to jam in as best we can. Robert and I, along with another group, will bring up the rear. No matter what happens, you keep your team with the kids and push toward the front entrance. I have another team stationed there keeping it clear,” I say.

“I thought I heard a .50 cal chattering outside. Okay, sir. You can count on us,” she responds.

“We expended a little more ammo on the way up than I anticipated. How is your team for ammo?”

“We’re each down to our last mag,” she answers.

“I wish I had some to give you but, seeing how your team will be in the middle, if you find yourself needing any, there should be some lying around,” I say.

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“You and me both, sergeant.”

Kids of varying ages begin to emerge from what I assume is another classroom and gather in a group in the hall. Most of the kids appear to be between six and nine years old. One older girl looks to be about twelve.

The night runner shrieks at the end of the hall continue to fill the building, echoing off the hard walls and begin to take on a restless note. When they all appear ready, I radio the teams.

“Henderson, Denton, we’re on the way to you. You two lead them out. Gonzalez, you, McCafferty, and Bri follow when they’ve passed. Robert and I will join you to provide rear security. Greg, you copy?”

“I copy you, Jack. See you shortly,” he answers.

“You pile them in as best you can.”

“Will do,” he replies.