wall. The round tears into the flesh, hits the cheek bone and continues into the sinus cavity. Slowed by the thick bone but its force not depleted, the bullet rips past the bone structure and into the soft tissue of the brain. Taking large amounts of gray matter and severing hundreds of blood vessels, it slams into the interior skull and imbeds itself.
The second round hits fractions of a second later above the left eye. The hard bone flattens the steel core bullet immediately with the forceful impact and it angles to the right. The force of the impact creates a small initial hole but, now flattened, the remains of the bullet crashes into the skull just above the left ear. It opens a large hole spraying blood and the gory remains of the brain against the wall with a loud slapping sound. The third round misses impacting the wall next to the back bedroom door.
The night runner’s head, her dad’s head, is flung backward. The upper shoulders follow, then the upper body. Its feet fly high into the air barely missing Gonzalez’ chin. The body then slams onto the hall floor with a thud. The house returns to silence once again. Gonzalez pans her carbine to the bathroom and other doors expecting another night runner to emerge and fearing who that might be. Her actions are by rote as her mind is still frozen by what she just witnessed. Her heart is sick with pain and her stomach threatens to spill the contents of her meager breakfast.
Nothing emerges. Gonzalez looks down at the body lying on the thread-bare carpet. Tears well in her eyes; her vision becoming a blurry green. The dreams her dad had for her and her sister lies unmoving on the floor, slowly seeping into the carpet. Her dream of better things for her parents fades with the last echoes of the muted gunshots in the narrow hallway in the middle of a rundown neighborhood. With her vision blurred by tears, she walks over and kneels by her dad. Cradling her M-4 in one hand, she reaches out to touch her dad’s cooling shoulder.
“Oh, dear papa,” she says in a shaky voice. The tightness in her heart threatens to spill into uncontrolled sobbing. A tear leaves her eye and make its way down her cheek under the NVG’s. She feels a hand on her shoulder and looks up to see McCafferty standing over her.
“I’m so sorry,” McCafferty says. What was held back now spills out into deep, wracking sobs.
I kneel in the middle of the living room. It would be dimly lit given normal conditions but things are far from “normal.” With the goggles perched on my head but not lowered, I can see well. The furniture and framed pictures on the wall show up in fine detail. It’s not the green glow that I’m used to in darkened areas but more in shadings of gray with a hint of color attached to them. There is no difference between what I can see “normally” and what shows up when I slide the goggles down except for the overall shading.
I watch as Henderson and Denton head off to the back of the house under Gonzalez’ direction. Gonzalez and McCafferty rise and edge to the hall entrance. I want to open up and reach out to ascertain where the night runner is and what it is thinking but I don’t dare. If I do, it will know exactly where I am or at least I assume it will. With Gonzalez and McCafferty in the enclosed hallway, it could be on them in moments flat. I’m pretty sure I pinpointed it to inside the house with the momentary glimpse but now I’m as blind as the rest of us. What use is having this? I think watching the two women enter the hallway and disappear from sight. I’d rather I didn’t because I feel like any choice I make in this situation might be the wrong one.
A shriek shatters the silence which rebounds around the small house to the point that it feels like it’s actually inside of me. The hallway is lit with flashes of light and I hear a suppressed burst of gunfire followed by a loud thump. I’m on my feet in an instant rushing toward the hall.
“Henderson, Denton, maintain position,” I say looking down the corridor.
I see Gonzalez kneeling by a body on the floor with her hand on its shoulder. I barely make out her whisper, “Oh, dear, papa.” McCafferty has her hand on Gonzalez’ shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” I hear her say.
I hear the sound of approaching vehicles outside just before Horace comes on the radio, “Sir, we have company and lots of it coming this way.”
“Make sure everyone is in covering positions. Keep the guns manned. I’ll be right out. Henderson, Denton, you’re with me outside,” I radio seeing that the situation inside has stabilized to a certain degree.
“On the way, sir,” Henderson replies. I hear their boots on the kitchen floor as they make their way back to the living room.
“Will do, sir,” Horace answers.
I reach over and tell McCafferty, “Stay with her. Make sure she’s okay.” McCafferty turns and nods.
I head out to the porch with Henderson and Denton. Standing on the edge, I look west and see two convertible cars parked door to door blocking the street entirely and surrounded by a multitude of people. Three men are standing in front of the cars holding weapons in one hand with the barrels resting on their shoulders; their other hands shielding their eyes. A glint flashes from the windshields of the cars from the sunlight. At least we have the advantage of the sun, I think. It’s hard to tell from this distance but the men all appear to be darker skinned. I’m not sure if it’s because they are deeply tanned or Hispanic. The others in the large group have taken cover and are aiming weapons in our general vicinity.
I walk to the rear of the angled Humvee where Horace has taken cover. The heat of the day has increased to a marked degree despite our only having been inside a short time. It takes my eyes time to adjust from the dark interior to the brightness outside. An intersection sits between our two groups and I can see a little ways down the cross streets that have intersecting alleyways. Several people take positions at the corners of houses near the alleys in flanking positions.
“Henderson, Denton, grab the 110’s and take cover. I want the flankers taken out on my call,” I say.
“Hooah, sir,” they respond. The hatch of the Humvee swings open and they retrieve their snipers before heading to opposite sides of the street to take positions.
I tap Horace on the shoulder, “If they have flankers, they’ll have others circling around behind us. Make sure the other Humvee gun covers our rear.” Horace quickly trots over to the other angled Humvee, talks a moment with the soldier on top, and returns. Sure enough, I hear the sound of vehicles moving along side streets to our right heading past us.
“McCafferty, Jack here,” I say.
“Go ahead, sir,” I hear her reply.
“I hate to do this but we have a situation here and I need you two to cover the back. Stay inside but make sure no one gets the drop on us from the side,” I say.
“Roger that, sir.”
Two cars pull onto the road and park behind us a block and a half away obstructing the road in that direction. A small number of people get out and take cover around the vehicles. Although concerned because our covering positions are more exposed to this new threat, I’m not overly worried. They have chosen positions close to the vehicles and they’ve obviously never seen what an M-240 can do — I make a mental note to bring a. 50 cal Humvee as well next time. If this does come down to an exchange, they’ll be running for their lives in short order. It’s the ones I don’t see that concern me. They obviously know how to flank. They also have the advantage of numbers and better knowledge of the area. I think about pulling Gonzalez out with me so I can use her knowledge but she just lost her father, at least I’m assuming from what I saw that it was her father on the ground.
The Humvees parked at angles across the street create a small alcove of protection in front of Gonzalez’ house. I walk into our circle of cover to the Humvee, open the door, and turn the radio on.
“Greg, this is Jack, over,” I say pressing the mic. Yeah, I would use call signs but seriously, who else is on this freq named Greg and Jack.
A moment passes. “Jack, this is Greg, go ahead,” he responds.
“We have a bit of a situation here. We’re surrounded by a large group of about thirty. Their intentions are unknown at this time. Find a vehicle and being your team in,” I say giving directions.
“Do you want everyone? Robert? Bri?” Greg asks.
I think about it for a moment. Bringing Echo Team in would leave Robert and Bri alone with three armed people we just met. As uncomfortable as I am with bringing them in, I’m even more uncomfortable leaving them with folks I’ve known for less than a day.
“Yeah, bring everyone,” I answer. “Come up from the west side. That way we’ll have the larger group encircled.”
“We’ll be on the way shortly, Jack. Call you when we’re close on the tac freq,” Greg says.
“Copy that. I wouldn’t be overly upset if you hurried,” I say.
