A New World: Conspiracy (7 page)

McCafferty’s body hangs in the distance for
a moment and then I seem to arrive in a rush. She is face down with
a pool of drying blood under her head and around one of her
shoulders. Her dark hair is spread across the light gray concrete,
part of it clumped in the red pool.

“Allie!” I call, sliding on my knees beside
her.

It’s important to keep moving or the shooter
will be able to get a firm bead on me. I can feel the crosshairs on
my back like a physical presence. Any moment, I expect to feel the
solid impact and pitch forward. My mouth is dry from fear, and I
can feel my heartbeat in my temples. The quick glance at her as I
slide to my knees causes a sickening feeling inside.

“Allie!” I call again, grabbing for her drag
handle at the back of her vest.

I rise and begin pulling her across the
sidewalk by the handle. Her hair smears the puddle of blood as I
drag her though it. Still no shot, but I anticipate it coming any
moment. I’ll be slowed substantially pulling McCafferty to the
wall. I concentrate almost solely on the next step and pulling her
along; although, in the back of my mind, I spare a few thoughts for
the sniper. Keep moving and don’t think about it. If I give over to
thinking only about the shooter, fear will set in and it could make
me freeze. There is only the next step.

McCafferty’s body rolls over as I pull her
onto the grass. Her head lolls to the side, revealing her ruined
throat – there just isn’t much left of it. I feel an anger building
inside alongside deep sorrow. McCafferty’s body lightens and
becomes easier to drag.

“Leave her, Jack. She’s dead,” I hear Lynn
call as if from a distance.

Looking up, I see her by my side pulling
McCafferty along with me. It’s a startling sight as I didn’t even
notice her arrival. The intense adrenaline over the past few hours
has caused a fog to come over my brain. I hear what she said, but
it doesn’t make sense, and I keep pulling McCafferty.

“Jack! Leave her,” I hear Lynn yell
again.

The fog lifts. Clarity returns. I look from
Lynn to McCafferty. Hating to do it, but knowing we’ll just leave
another body out here if I don’t, I release my grip on the drag
handle. McCafferty’s body falls to the grass and I run alongside
Lynn. We alternate pace and I feel another wave of pressure pass
barely in front at shoulder level. The report of the gunshot echoes
as we both turn on a burst of speed, reaching the bushes and the
wall.

Panting hard, I sink to my knees and
retrieve my M-4 from Robert. The stinging in my shoulder returns,
having been forgotten seconds after feeling it.

“Dad,” Robert says, “you’re hit.”

“It’s nothing,” I reply and tell everybody
to stay close to the wall.

Leaving McCafferty out in the open after
making the rescue attempt tells it all. I see anger etched in the
faces of the others, their lips drawn tight. A single tear makes a
dirt-lined streak down Gonzalez’ cheek. She wipes it away, smearing
dirt across her face, and glances at McCafferty. All of our hearts
are filled with a deep sorrow and anger at someone who took this
sweet young woman away from us.

I inch forward toward the corner of our
little slice of safety. The wall is at an angle to where the
shooter was last, so I should be able to get close to the corner
without exposing myself. It’s important to try and get a picture of
where the sniper is before we come up with a plan…yeah, there’s
that word. As it is, we’re rather stuck in this position. Forward
or to the side is out of the question, and into the hospital is an
even worse option. I can still hear the shrieks drifting across to
us from the hornet’s nest we kicked over.

“Drescoll, Jack here,” I call into the
radio.

He answers a moment later, “Drescoll here,
go ahead.”

“Go button plus five,” I say.

“Copy,” he replies.

Button plus five is a code for switching to
a different frequency without broadcasting which channel we’ll be
going to. Button is a channel briefed before an op or a daily
setting and denotes what is essentially the zero channel to base
settings from. So, saying button plus five means five channels
above the base channel. If the base channel is seven, then button
plus five is a command to go to channel twelve. If someone is
scanning frequencies, they’ll find us, but there’s no use making it
easier for them.

“Drescoll’s up,” he calls over the new
channel.

“We have someone taking shots at us and have
taken cover by the front wall of the hospital. I don’t have a clear
picture of their position, but I estimate about four to five
hundred yards to the south-southeast of the main entrance,” I
state.

There are a few seconds of hesitation before
he says, “Copy. Is anyone hit?”

I hesitate, especially knowing that he and
McCafferty were, well, in lack of other terms, together. I don’t
want to give out any information, but the real reason is that I
don’t want to tell him at the moment. I need him clear. It’s not
really that fair, but there it is. I turn to Lynn and she gives me
a shrug as if to say, ‘your call.’

“We have one down. Trying to get a position
on the shooter now,” I say.

“Who is it?” he asks.

“No names over the radio. You and Horace
stand by to head to the sniper’s location.”

Another hesitation. “Do you want us to come
up there and provide a shield with the vehicles for you to
evacuate?”

I would like nothing more than to just get
out of this situation. However, I want to find and hopefully
capture this shooter. Just having them evacuate out of the area
will leave the threat still there for some future time. I’m
assuming this was an intentional act and not some deranged person
who happened to come across us. That is still a possibility but,
for some reason, I don’t think it is.

“Negative. Standby.”

Kneeling just before the end of the wall, I
extract my signal mirror and extend it around the corner. There
aren’t any bushes on that side of the building, so I can get a
clear view in that direction. The small face of the mirror makes it
difficult to see much, but I see a line of offices in the distance,
away from and across a street from the hospital. Of course, seeing
anything remotely like a person at that distance with the mirror is
basically futile. I’m mostly looking for movement. I don’t see
anything.

The mirror flies out of my hand, breaking
into several shards. One moment it’s there and the next it’s tugged
forcefully from between my fingers. The round that shattered the
glass rips through a bush next to me and buries itself into the
ground with a thud. The clap of a gunshot follows. Yeah, this
shooter knows what they are doing and apparently has quite the zoom
on their scope. The benefit is that, just before the mirror was
blown from my hand, I saw a flash of light coming from on top of
the two-story office buildings.

I’m actually surprised that they are still
there, and that is one of the mistakes they are making – staying in
one place for so long. Shoot and move should be their method of
operation. I get missing and wanting your target down, but they
should have been on the move.

“Drescoll. The shooter is on top of the blue
two-story office buildings approximately four hundred meters to the
south,” I call. “Take them alive if possible.”

* * * * * *

Drescoll lurches forward with the Stryker,
coming to a stop. Jack’s radio calls sent an icy jolt of fear down
his back. He feels his heart tighten and is sick to his stomach.
There is someone down and he knows Jack isn’t telling him who it is
because he doesn’t want to tell him it’s Allie. Deep down, Drescoll
knows it’s her, and the thought makes him want to fold up. She is
the only bright light in this hell they are living in…the only
thing that has given him hope. To think of her gone makes him want
to sink to his knees and lose himself in grief. However, he tells
himself that he doesn’t know this for sure. Actually, there is a
part of him that’s upset at Jack for trying to protect him and
thinking he needs to be. He would do what was needed regardless as
the whole team is relying on him.

He exits and joins Horace. The two of them
pour over a map, quickly finding the building mentioned by Jack. It
isn’t hard to find as there aren’t that many buildings in the area.
There is an urgency to come up with a plan and get into the area.
Jack wanting to capture the sniper puts an added wrinkle to any
plan. It would be easier to spook the shooter out of the area by
driving the vehicle nearby. Anyone worth their mettle would vacate
the area quickly. Drescoll, like Jack, is surprised they’ve
actually stuck around this long.

“I’ll take my team and sweep around the
side, positioning in an arc around the shooter’s latest position.
I’ll need to sweep wide enough so the vehicles can’t be heard,
disembark a ways out, and head to our positions on foot,” Drescoll
says to Horace, outlining his intended route on the map. “Then,
when we’re in position, you head forward with the Stryker and flush
them out.”

“You’ll need more than just your team. I
only need two here. You can take the other four with you. That will
give you a better coverage area,” Horace states.

With a quick plan set up, Drescoll boards
the two Humvees with his and part of Horace’s team. They need to do
this quickly yet with caution. He doesn’t know if the shooter has a
team for security or not, so they’ll need to proceed cautiously
once they are on foot.

The idling vehicles are barely heard as
Drescoll folds the map and prepares to move out. The sun’s rays
shining down provide no warmth, its brightness in direct contrast
to how he feels. Tension mounts with the upcoming operation and his
stomach is churning, again wondering if Allie is okay. Drescoll
isn’t really sure if not knowing is a good or bad thing. On one
hand, not knowing gives him hope that she is okay, but on the
other, it leads his mind down a very dark path. He has never been
very good with not knowing things; they weigh heavier on his mind.
His thoughts always tend to wander down the darkest path available.
Climbing into one of the Humvee passenger seats, he looks at the
clouds gathering on the horizon. That is more of how he feels –
that there are dark clouds gathering.

Taking a long route around the area,
Drescoll is antsy and has a difficult time not telling the driver
to accelerate. Every fiber is pulled tight and he almost orders the
group to the hospital so he can find out about Allie…to protect
her. Of course, if she is with Jack and alive, she will be pissed
beyond belief. He tried to be protective of her once and regretted
that for the next several days. A memory enters of her smiling up
at him, fueling his anxiety.

The two Humvees travel along a road adjacent
to Capital Lake. The once pristine park surrounding it is now
overgrown. The water is barely visible through the tall weeds as
they make their way along its side and turn. Climbing a steep hill,
they make another turn and begin heading toward the area where Red
Team, Lynn, and the sniper are located.

Entering the edge of town and a shopping
area, Drescoll has the driver slow to minimize the sound of their
presence. Strip malls line both sides of the street which
eventually lead to the large grounds that encompass the Capital
Mall. Each shop emits a presence of being uninhabited for a long
period of time. Where the glass isn’t outright broken,
grime-covered windows stare mutely at the passage of the small
convoy.

Drescoll directs them into a Taco Time
parking lot where they disembark. The teams quietly gather their
gear and check each other over. From here, they’ll proceed on foot,
circumventing the building to the south, and begin setting up a
perimeter on the far side. He would normally call, informing the
others of his progress, but decides to maintain radio silence in
case they are being monitored.

They set their intervals and, with a nod
from Drescoll, they begin. The large team proceeds cautiously up
one of the streets leading around the building circled on the map.
With each step, a feeling of dread comes over Drescoll. He has to
keep himself in check mentally lest he drive the team at a hasty
pace. He gives his head a minute shake to clear it from the
negative thoughts crowding it.

Not a sound accompanies their trek through
the wide streets as they pass several apartment complexes. Debris
is piled up against the curbs with a fine grit of dirt covering the
roadways and sidewalks. Warmth streams from the sunlit sky and
several birds leave nearby branches at their approach, crossing the
street to perch on other limbs. The very air itself feels
oppressive, but that is only the tension emanating from the team as
they zero in on their prey.

Drescoll plans their route to ensure they
won’t be spotted from the sniper’s perch, passing several blocks
away from the building itself. He begins leaving teams of two at
some of the cross streets, making sure they are well-covered before
moving on. He has no doubt the shooter will flee at the approach of
the Stryker and plans to set a cordon around the area to catch the
person. Alive if possible, but he briefed the team not to take
chances and shoot if necessary, especially if there is a security
team in place. If they find themselves in a position where they
would be outgunned, they are to regroup and report.

Turning down a street on the very edge of
town, dilapidated houses to one side and a tangle of fields on the
other, he places another team in thick bushes. Making sure the team
is well-placed, Drescoll glances down the street to clear it before
moving on. His eyes widen and he feels a small jolt of adrenaline.
On the side of road, two narrow tracks proceed along the street,
creating a barely discernible path through the grit on the
surface.