Darren stammered, “W-wait! Wait!” He turned wide eyes to Deric and Gregg. “What do you want to know?”
Steve came back around and gave him a dissatisfied smirk. “I didn’t even get to pull anything off yet.” He stuck his lower lip out slightly. “You are really harshing my mellow here.”
Gregg nodded. “He really enjoys this part.”
“I said I’d talk!” Chesterfield clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes. “I have a low pain tolerance.”
The steel door slammed open leading to the tunnel and Bridger stepped out. He actually smiled when he saw the agency man awake. “Tell me he’s refusing to talk. Please.”
Deric shook his head. “Nope. He just agreed to tell us everything.”
“Dammit.” Bridger slammed the door shut and closed the distance. “Okay Stinky. Spill it.”
Darren swallowed hard and nodded. “What do you want to know?”
Bridger leaned in close and glared at him. “Start at the beginning.”
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
A MAN CAME huffing down the hill and slid to a stop behind the rock outcropping. “Whoever was in that machine gun nest is gone. They left the outer hatch open and there’s a small space in there with another steel hatch that leads below.”
“Did you see anybody?”
“Negative. It’s like they bailed. I didn’t see a camera or anything, so…”
The other man nodded and hunkered low. “We set up a three man team at that upper hatch. One drops into the nest, pulls the hatch and drops a couple of tear gas canisters in there with them. The other team sets up on either side of the access in the front. One watches for whoever the shooters were on the south side. The other two pick them off as they exit.”
The tactical team all nodded slowly. “It’s the best we got.”
Another man from the rear broke in. “Why don’t we call in for support? These guys are dug in. Literally.”
The new team leader shook his head. “This is a black operation. Only those with need to know have any idea we’re out here.” He glanced into the sky where he knew the drone would be making low circles, relaying in real time their collective fuck up. “Whoever ‘they’ are, I’m sure they’re not happy with how this is going down.”
The man in the rear groaned. “Ours is not to ponder why, ours is just to do or die.”
“Knock it off.” The new team leader handed a satchel with the tear gas canisters. “Give us a start to set up at the south entrance.”
“Got it.” He took the canisters and turned for the pillbox.
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
JAY CURSED AS the last man zigged when he should have zagged. His shot went wide just before the man disappeared behind a slight hill. “Son of a…” He caught movement near the edge of the berm and watched as a tactical member set up on either side of the front.
He reached for his throat mic. “You got company. Stacking at the front. Prepare for a breach.”
Gregg cursed over the coms. “We need to let them know we got one of theirs.”
Jay contemplated stepping out from cover but decided against it. These assholes had already proven that they were in “shoot first, ask questions later” mode and he wasn’t ready to make his wife a widow.
“Slippy, can you break into their coms?”
“I’m working on it!”
Jay leaned forward and brought the reticle of his scope on the nearest man. “Please don’t make me kill you…”
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
“THEY’RE GOING TO breach?” Bridger stared at the front of the bunker and leveled his rifle on the window. “Let ‘em try.”
“I’m trying to break into their coms. Just…give me a minute.” Gregg tapped furiously at his keyboard, his focus entirely on breaking their encryption.
Steve and Deric both turned to the rear of the bunker when sunlight poured from the pillbox. “Oh shit!” Steve aimed at the pillbox and loosed two rounds.
Deric noticed something small and black clatter to the floor and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the detonation from the flashbang.
The hiss immediately told him it was gas. “I got this!”
He ran to the rear of the bunker, glancing quickly into the pillbox which was now sealed. He kicked a 55-gallon drum over and wrenched the lid from the steel container. He tried to hold his breath as he swept the hissing canister into the drum and set it upright.
Steve appeared at his side and helped him to lock the lid back in place. Both men were coughing and slobbering as they rolled the drum to the tunnel and pushed it inside before sealing the door. Snot, drool and tears poured from their faces as they tried to work their way to the kitchen.
Bridger glanced side to side. “Tell me we can vent that gas.”
Slippy didn’t look up as he continued to work at the computer. “Eighteen hundred square feet by twelve foot ceilings, approximately ten seconds of exposure without the canister exploding…we should be good so long as they don’t attempt a second one.”
Bridger glanced at Steve and Deric trying to sooth their skin with damp cloths. He ran to the kitchen area and pulled the baking soda from the shelf. He dumped a large amount into a bowl then poured water of it. He soaked a towel in the mixture then pressed it to Steve’s face. “Remember, don’t scrub. Just let this rest on your skin.” He quickly dumped another towel then pressed it gently to Deric’s face. “Work your hands under there if you need to. Give it time, fellas.”
“Hey, my throat is burning,” Chesterfield whined.
“This is your people’s fault, shithead. You can suffer.”
Slippy stood, both fists in the air. “I got it! I’m in their coms!”
“Impossible!” Darren shouted.
“Let them know we got shit-britches.” Bridger mixed the paste with his fingers and slathered the goo on to Steve’s exposed hands. “I gotta get back.”
“Go!” Steve pushed at him and gently
