Dead Six

Valentine was all business. He quickly scanned the dead. No quips. No jokes. Only: “Where’s Gordon?”

“He went that way.” I nodded toward the ghost town.

“Then let’s go.”

VALENTINE

I turned to leave, but paused. I looked back at my . . . companions? I don’t suppose we were friends. Standing close to Lorenzo was Jill, a gun in hand, her hair a mess, blood-stains on her pink jumper.

“You alright, darlin’?” I asked of Jill. She nodded at me but said nothing. She was hovering close to Lorenzo. I managed half a smile for her, then put my game face back on. Gordon was out there somewhere, and he wasn’t getting away.

“Val, what’s your status?” Hawk asked over the radio.

“Cover the entrance. I’m coming out.”

“What’s the plan?” Reaper asked.

What is it with these people and their stupid plans? A plan is just a list of things that don’t happen after the first shot is fired, and the situation had already gone straight to hell. “Gordon’s back there somewhere,” I said, gesturing to the door. “Igoing to find him and kill him.” My blood was running cold.

“That’s it?” Jill asked, speaking up at last. “You don’t know how many of them there are! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“The van full of SWAT guys is coming back,” Reaper said again.

“This is gonna get interesting.” I moved forward and opened the door. It was mostly dark outside now, and only the last bit of sun crept over the hill to illuminate the interior of the long-abandoned prison camp. There was a row of buildings along each side of a gravel road. Barracks, mostly, but utility buildings, a mess hall, things like that. The tall fence that had once surrounded the place was falling down, and several of the structures had been vandalized.

I moved out the door. Lorenzo stepped out behind me, with Reaper behind him. He made Jill stay inside. Good, I thought. I didn’t want her to get hurt, especially after all this.

I moved to my right, edging towards the corner of the building. It was shadowed here, and I was thankful for that. The next building over didn’t have any windows facing my position, but others did, and I was exposed.

Hawk came over the radio. “Val, I’m moving up on you. Cover me.”

I leaned around the corner. The road that led into the camp was lit up by the headlights of the van. It was rapidly approaching our position, leaving a long dust cloud behind it.

“You see the van?” Lorenzo asked. He was now right behind me.

“Got it,” I said.

“We should move over there,” he said, pointing to the next building. “Find some cover and light ‘em up as they come out. We—”

His voice was cut off by the loud bark of my carbine. He hissed an obscenity, but then opened fire as well. Hawk joined him an instant later. I couldn’t see anything but the dark mass of the van beyond the blinding headlights, but that was enough. The glowing red reticle of my scope was centered on it, and I let go. I fired as rapidly as I could, my rounds tearing into the van, my face illuminated briefly by each muzzle flash. The van skidded to its right and crashed into the far corner of a building. My bolt locked back, and my rifle was empty. I looked back at Lorenzo as he dropped the magazine out of his carbine.

“Let’s go. I couldn’t have gotten them all.”

LORENZO

Valentine ejected the empty magazine from his rifle, flinging it away from him as he rocked it out, and locked a new one in place. The bolt flew forward with a clang.

“Let’s get them,” Jill said. I turned. She was right behind me, one of Eddie’s goon’s G36 carbines in her hands. Before I could even tell her to go back, she snapped, “Shut up, Lorenzo, I’m coming.” Her tone suggested that there wouldn’t be any arguing.

Valentine grinned at me. Asshole. I shook my head while walking quickly toward the smoking wreck. “Stay low. Hawk, cover us. Valentine and Reaper, flank right. Jill, stay behind me. That little pad on the front grip activates your flashlight. Leave it off until—”

“I’m not retarded. I can use a stupid light. Come on already,” she hissed. “Gordon’s going to get away.”

Fair enough.

There was no discernible movement around the van. Steam was rising from the smashed-open radiator. I sprinted the last few feet and stuck my muzzle through the driver’s side window just as Valentine threw open the rear doors. The driver was dead, his face mashed against the wheel, blood leaking from his ear. The passenger’s brains were sliding down the dash. The back was empty, but there was some blood. The others must have bailed out.

There was a raised wooden walkway on both sides of the rectangular barracks. Reaper’s boots echoed hollowly on the wooden planks as he walked toward the open doorway. Suddenly, he and Valentine both crouched down. I stood there stupidly for an instant before realizing that they were still in communication with Bob. I grabbed Jill by the wrist and pulled her down beside the van.

A supersonic crack whistled overhead, and someone screamed inside the darkened barracks. Reaper threw himself flat as the SWAT team inside fired wildly through the plank walls in response. Valentine disappeared in a flash, moving to the building’s corner. Jill and I were in the shadows, and the SWAT guys were firing at nothing.

“Reaper, stay down!” I had one frag grenade left. I pulled it from its pouch, yanked the pin, and chucked it through the barracks window. A few seconds later, the barracks shook and bits of jagged metal hummed through the air, seeking flesh.

“Now!” I shouted. Reaper popped up, turned on his Surefire light, and leaned across the barrack’s window. The stubby 12 gauge belched fire three quick times. You didn’t need to be a good shot at conversational distance. Off to the side came the thunderous crack of Valentine’s .308.

“Clear!” he shouted.

“Scratch two more assholes,” Reaper responded.

But how many did that leave? I sprinted toward the barracks, vaulted over the railing, and landed beside Reaper. Hawk was running up behind us. The railing next to my head made a hollow thunk noise as a bullet smashed into it. I pressed tighter against the wall. Jill was still prone by the van. “Everybody down! That came from the water tower!”

“Bob, sniper on the water tower. Take him out,” Valentine ordered as he walked calmly into the barracks. “Hey, Lorenzo. We’ve got to keep moving.”

I scanned the town. There were only intermittent patches of amber lighting, and most of the ramshackle buildings were deadly ambushes waiting to happen. I pulled out my night-vision monocular, pressed it to my eye, and scanned around the corner.

Through the NVD I could see a man with a rifle standing at the top of the water tower’s ladder. There was another crack, and the man toppled from his perch, fell two stories, and landed lifelessly in a cloud of dust. My brother was a damn fine shot.

Hawk clambered up the steps and took cover next to me. “Val, if that G-man’s running from you, he’s probably holed up in that last big building.” It made sense, it was the easternmost position they could fall back to. To get back to their vehicles they would have to either fight past us through the southern row of buildings, or they’d have to try to cross back between the buildings on the north side. Each time they left cover, we could engage them, and to reach a car they’d be visible to Bob. Holing up to wait for reinforcements would be the smart thing to do.