The Reaper: No Mercy (24 page)

"Execute!" The command was live, as the Reaper fired! But the Reaper was not the only one, as the night suddenly exploded as the assault forces and their support elements opened up.

*****

"
Execute
!" The command came through loud and clear. Sokowski had said he was bored, which was not usually a Special Forces adjective, but since he and his team, minus one, had been in position for over an hour, it was appropriate. The Reaper had detached Olsen to lead Assault Force Two which would ambush the fleeing vehicles with AT4s. Now Falls had taken Olsen's place in heavy weapons and he, together with Copp, would operate the M4s equipped with M203 grenade launchers.

"Active and switching to Red Team channel!" Sokowski whispered as his hand rose to adjust the frequency he was transmitting on.

"Red Team. Up and at them. Time to earn our pay. Copp and Falls, shed some light." Behind him, the soft thump of the grenade launchers could be heard, while overhead faint arcs travelled well forward of their position only to explode into brilliant light that floated slowly towards the ground.

Hitting the far side, he waited those few seconds it took for his team to join him and then all crept forward in a low combat walk. Many of these assholes were about to meet their maker, and Sokowski chuckled to himself while peering through the Aimpoint sight in search of his first target. To his right, the M-ATVs opened up and then all hell broke loose. He grinned as he started firing on the first two enemies to appear.
Talk about a target-rich environment
, he thought, as the Tangos dropped to the ground either wounded or dead, though Sokowski wasn't paying attention to them anymore. He was already sighting in on the next group as his team kicked ass without taking names.

*****

"
Execute
!" And then Rodriguez was firing while shouting into Fox command channel.

"Fox, execute!"

The .50 caliber M2 above his head was loud within the confines of the M-ATV, but he ignored it. The crosshairs on the CROW's screen before him showed several enemy vehicles within their sights. He had grabbed the joystick and, after depressing the red button with his thumb to activate the laser rangefinder, he aimed at the first. Then flipping the red safety toggle on the front of the joystick upward, he depressed the trigger.

The .50 chewed through the first three trucks within seconds, and he was already re-aiming the M2 onto a new target. Men! Running with weapons pointed towards his position.
How interesting
, he thought as he depressed the trigger again, slowly sweeping the area, bodies falling like bowling pins, some with missing limbs. Technically, using the .50 caliber on enemy combatants was against the Geneva Convention, but this was the apocalypse and besides, Rodriguez so loved the .50.

He caressed the toggle again, watching as a burst intersected the gun-toting body of one of the marauders, causing it to crumple to the ground, the over-powered rounds continuing on to hit the side of one of the buildings in the back. “Gotta watch that in case of friendlies,” he murmured to himself as he sighted in on the next target, and with a lover’s caress stroked the toggle again.

*****

"It's started!" The woman had just run into the outer ward of what Rossi referred to as the Industrial Hospital. He and Nancy were scrubbed, and wearing the blue latex of surgeons. After reviewing Nancy’s work, he had no concerns with her doing a great job. She'd be fine. It was the nurses-in-training he was skeptical about, but even that was OK as he knew how to raise his voice at the right moment to get them to focus on the job at hand and remember their brief training. Now he turned to Nancy.

"Expect incoming, Dr. Kerrigan." Rossi had started calling her by that honorific these last fifteen minutes. The forty-five minutes before that he had spent with Heidi, who desperately needed his help. She had fallen asleep as together he and Nancy had held her frail form. A small sedative he quickly administered ensured she would sleep the rest of the night undisturbed, and without dreams. Rossi needed to spend some quality time with that tiny girl, but not right now. Right now it was about to get as busy as it had ever gotten in the past for him.

"Are you sure you don't want me to assist you, Doctor?" Kerrigan asked him.

"Positive. There will be more wounded than either of us will be able to handle in a short while. You're good, Nancy, and it's my privilege to be working beside you." Rossi knew they would soon be overwhelmed with casualties, for this was not his first stint as a wartime doctor. He had participated as a volunteer surgeon in several military actions the United States had engaged in, the last being Operation Desert Storm, or the Gulf War as many called it. There he had treated not only their troops but also those of allies and even enemy combatants.

Nancy looked over at him from the makeshift operating table she stood behind and slowly responded. "Dennis warned me that you might be abusive and mean, but I haven't experienced that. Where is that doctor I've been hearing about, the one that everyone loves to hate?"

Rossi laughed out loud for the first time in months."That man is not here tonight, Nancy. I'm not even sure he'll be back. For the first time in ages, certainly years, I feel truly needed," and he smiled at her before directing their new staff into place. He glanced over at the entrance where the double plastic barrier against contamination lay in place, but even as he did so, he saw the smile on Nancy's face.

"Stay at your table, Doctor. They'll be arriving soon, and every second will count."

"Yes, sir."

*****

The Reaper fired again, taking another of the marauders through the center of the shoulder blades just as the minion of Satan tried to duck behind one of the buildings.
Not fast enough by far
, Jason thought as he shifted aim, preparing to fire again. Through the headset he wore, radio chatter was coming fast, and while monitoring the talk, the Reaper did not feel the need to respond. Everyone knew their assignments, and the execution, so far, was going flawlessly.

There, one of the devil's get was backing towards a vehicle. In his arms, he gripped two half-naked women, causing the Reaper to frown; he moved the scope sight over their faces to settle on the man’s desperate face. Jason's finger tightened slowly and the face disappeared in an explosion of blood as the round passed between the two females, missing both by inches. Screaming as the dead man's hands released them, both ran in opposite directions, away from the buildings and towards eventual freedom. In one fluid motion, the Reaper was already sighting in on the next.

*****

As gunfire and explosions sounded in the near distance, Dale pulled his rig forward and angled it across the road blocking Hwy 405 to the north of the cemeteries main entrance. Two other rigs behind his own did the same, effectively blocking any vehicle from going north. Charges had already been planted in the big trucks to disable them and Dale held the detonator for he was ex military and had worked with demolitions before, though a civilian now.

Quickly he sprinted from the stopped vehicle and ensuring the other two drivers were with him he pulled the remote detonator from it's plastic baggie. A quick thumb press, after flipping the safety cap up and in moments all three semi-tractor trailers were burning brightly. Then all three turned to the waiting Humvee, jumped in, and got the fuck out of there.

*****

Sokowski crouched as his eye stayed glued to the M68 Aimpoint red-dot sighting mechanism attached to the upper receiver of his M4. Incoming rounds were hitting the ground near his feet and passing overhead as he fast-walked in crouched form toward his targets. The possibility of being hit occurred to him, but he ignored those thoughts as he continued to fire; as each magazine emptied, he exchanged it with a fresh one within seconds.

To his far left and right, Copp and Falls were laying down suppression fire. Both were now using the M203 grenade launcher to fire for effect, which in military terms actually meant 'with effect'. Each explosive round was taking down or wounding small groups of the marauders that scattered and were running everywhere. On their far sides were Reyes and Hansen; like Sokowki, they were taking out targets of opportunity.

This was the important part of the overall strategy, which was to continue a hard push in skirmish form to not only drive the marauders east and south, but to also force them to run. It was important for whoever escaped to take to their vehicles and head south on Highway 405. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the triple explosion of the north-bound roadblock going off and smiled in satisfaction. Everything was going according to plan, for once.

Sokowski heard a grunt in his headset, almost inaudible over the sound of his carbine firing in three round bursts. He knew the tell-tale sign of a man being hit and he crouched even lower, almost melding with the ground as he barked, "Who's hit, report!"

"Hollinger," came the gasp, and Sokowski immediately looked to his right, seeing his man down.
Fuck me
, he thought, and gritting his teeth, he sprinted to the man's position while pulling first one grenade from its individual pouch fastened to the side of his harness, then another, as he sent the armed ovoids of death towards the marauders. Explosions rang out as he ducked down near Hollinger and, moving quickly, Sokowski dragged him behind a nearby granite headstone.

A hole through the chest near Hollinger's left shoulder greeted Sokowski's quick assessment, and he quickly pressed his hand down over the wound to stem the flow of blood.

"Medic!" he shouted over the net as figures loomed before him. Throwing himself over the body of his man, he shouldered his M4, sighting in. Two, three-round bursts later, he remained down, holding his weapon ready in his right hand while his left continued applying pressure to the wound. Then Phillips was on the scene, his med kit in hand, taking over. Sokowski didn't rise; instead, he rolled sideways to give Phillips room to work and started firing. Anything that moved and was not an obvious hostage was dead meat, and now he was pissed!

Growling, he rose to his feet and advanced on the enemy while signaling the others still in line to form up. Fuckers were about to pay!

*****

Ringo hollered as weapons fire poured in from the north and west. Goddamned soldiers had decided to take a hand—it could be no one else, and Ringo would make them pay. He and his men were crouched on the south and west sides of the buildings or firing from windows within, and it was time to take the fight to the Army boys. He knew there were only a handful of them. Now he pulled his walkie-talkie from his belt and called his boys at the catacombs building. Some of the incoming fire was coming from that direction, and Ringo didn't like that at all.

"Grady, how's it look over there?" Grady was one of the four men he had guarding the slaves, and the one he had given the radio to. Silence greeted his question, and after checking the frequency to verify it was correct, he yelled again, "Grady! Damnit man, answer me!" Still no response, and Ringo knew then that Grady would probably never answer again. He cast about and saw a dozen of his men firing to the north at figures less seen and more felt, as the return fire was dropping figures all around them. Ringo shouted to them.

"Don! Take that group with you and kill everyone in the catacombs.” Fuck them. He would finish this now!

"Got it, Ringo," and then Don was pulling his group together and redirecting them towards the back of the property. As they ran, all fired towards the north causing a brief respite from the attackers, and Ringo was instantly running towards the seminary. As he arrived and slid in through the entrance on his back, one of the women slaves grabbed him.

"What's going on?" she shouted, and before the young woman could pull back, he'd pulled his revolver and shot her point blank through the chest.
Useless bitch
, he thought as he ran up the stairs to the bell tower overlooking the cemetery. He had a rifle up there, and while he wasn't that great a shot, he had plenty of ammunition for it.

*****

The Reaper was climbing the silo on the west side of the cemetery. After firing his first ten rounds from the warehouse roof and exchanging magazines, he had immediately relocated. A quick slide down the roof brought him to the line he had secured there, and another quick moment had him rappelling down. Now he was over three-hundred-yards south, having sprinted to the new location.

As he cleared the dome, he swept the snow from its upper surface before removing the small sandbag from his satchel. Then he rested the stock of the Remington 700 against his shoulder and sighted in on the activity six hundred yards away. There, before him, he saw one individual shoot a woman in the head before turning the automatic in his hand to the next one kneeling before him.

The Reaper instantly fired, and the round passing through the air exploded the devil-spawn’s head. Instantly he was switching aim again. Another shot, and the round left the barrel even as the Reaper was rotating another round in its place. His sight moved and he saw a woman tied to a picnic table, naked in these freezing temperatures, and his heart stilled as he fired once, then again, severing the cords holding her captive. Hopefully, she would make it out alive, but he was already concentrating on the next target, firing again, and sending another rotten soul to purgatory.