299 Days: The Visitors (2 page)

“Why are we doing this?” Grant asked the Team. “You know the answer,” he said, a little loudly and with lots of vigor. “We’re doing this because these motherfuckers will keep breaking into houses and eventually, they’ll kill someone. Our neighbors. They will kill, unless we get them first. This is self-defense, gentlemen. We need to get them before they get us.”

It was quiet. They were letting it sink in. Then Bobby smiled. “Is there any place you’d rather be?” Some of the guys smiled, some nodded, and some just stared.

“Let’s go, constables,” Rich said.

“Constable” was the right word at the right time. It reminded them that they weren’t just the “Team” anymore, just a bunch of guys who went to the range together and then happened to live together during a crisis. They were the people the community looked to protect them, even if they didn’t have any official badges. They were the sheepdogs protecting the sheep from the wolves. They had been given honor and responsibilities by their neighbors. They were constables.

Grant had some zip ties in his kit. They were thin black plastic bands for holding wires together and could be cinched up but not loosened. They cost about a dime a piece and were perfect cheap handcuffs. Grant bought several hundred at a hardware store in preparation for the Collapse. He had a sneaking suspicion back then that he would need zip ties. He handed a few to each man.

“Remember,” Grant said, “we’re here to arrest these people” – the word “arrest” sounded so weird coming from a civilian – “and not shoot them. But you can, and should, defend yourself, if necessary.” They all nodded. Grant, the lawyer and now “judge,” wanted to make sure the constables didn’t think this was a mass execution. The tweakers had stolen some stuff, which didn’t warrant the death penalty. But, Grant thought as he did a press check of his AR and Glock, they all had every right to protect themselves.

There was nothing left to say. It was go time. Rich said, “OK, let’s do this.”

The plan was to go in on foot, which would be quieter than a truck, and hug the tree line of the road. Those going through the front door would be Pow, Ryan, and Rich. Bobby and Grant would be the left flank, and Scotty and Wes would be on the right. The flanks would cover the sides of the house and then link up at the back door to prevent that escape route. Tim would stay back. One of the crime victims would bring Tim and a truck into the front yard once all the shooting stopped, if a shootout occurred. They could use the truck to haul out arrestees or…bodies. Tim was unarmed. Rich only had a pistol; circumstances of which both would change before the next raid. They had already learned a lot from this raid. Hopefully none of them would be fatal lessons.

Pow started down the road. Everyone followed him out of habit, like they’d done hundreds of times on the range. There was a familiarity, a rhythm to this, Grant thought. It felt natural to be advancing on a target, looking for cover each step of the way, and keeping track of where your team members were and would be going. They’d done this so many times, except not for real, and not with Rottweiler dogs waiting for them.

They went down the road a few hundred yards. Grant was glad he was in shape. This was hard work. They got to the driveway of the tweaker house, which was set back in the woods about a hundred yards. There was a fence, but it was open. Apparently, meth addicts aren’t too good about details, like closing the gate. There was crap in the yard. Cars, rusted equipment. It was an absolute mess. Lots of cover, Grant thought. For us and them, he realized.

As soon as Pow went down the driveway, the dogs started barking. It sounded like two, but there could have been three. The safeties began clicking off at the sound of the dogs. Grant knew he was supposed to wait until they were on target before switching off the safeties, but he was terrified and didn’t want to risk having the safety on when he needed to shoot someone.

The adrenaline was surging. Grant could feel it coursing through his veins, like a drug. Not a happy drug, but a medicine drug. A drug the body needed right then.

Adrenaline would speed up Grant’s reaction time, let him run faster, think faster and clearer, and do things he didn’t want to do, such as shoot someone, like he did with the looters back in Olympia. He had felt this feeling before. He didn’t like it, but he welcomed the help it would give him in the next few seconds, which is how long he expected this operation to last. Forty seconds to a minute. That’s what all of this would come down to.

Chapter 139

The Blur

(May 14)

The blur was starting. Everything began blending together and Grant’s senses weren’t normal. Things were mushy, but he was in full control of his muscles. He was getting tunnel vision and his hearing was improving. He could hear all the driveway gravel crunching under his feet, almost as loud as his heavy breathing. He could feel his heart pounding. Things were starting to go into slow motion. He felt strong. He tasted that tingle on the end of his tongue again. That was adrenaline.

Grant looked around and saw Scotty and Wes pulling away from the group and taking the right flank. Grant and Bobby started peeling away and taking the left flank. Pow, Ryan, and Rich were heading straight into the front of the house.

There was a small wire fence around the front of the house to hold the dogs. There they were, barking like crazy. Two Rottweilers; vicious, snarling monsters with giant teeth. Grant’s vision was focusing on the teeth. They were a weapon and he was focusing on them. Don’t get tunnel vision, he told himself. Pow’s got the dogs covered, he thought. Go with Bobby and take the left flank, he told himself. He wanted to run over and take out the dogs, but realized that he would be shooting to his right, which was in the direction of Scotty and Wes, who were coming around the other way. No, execute the plan, he told himself. You and Bobby have the left flank, he told himself, now get going. Meet up with Scotty and Wes at the back door.

Boom! Grant heard several shots and heard the dogs yelping. There was a loud whimper followed by more shots, and then silence. Grant ran along the left side of the house and couldn’t see the others. He looked, and Bobby was right with him, running full speed and swiveling his head in all directions to check for threats. They were both looking in all the windows on their side of the house to see if a barrel of a gun was sticking out of one. So far, nothing.

Grant got to the back door first. Bobby was right behind him. Grant started sweeping the door with his AR. Bobby was sweeping the area around Grant, covering anyone trying to come up to him. A second later, Wes showed up on the other side of the house, with Scotty right behind him. Scotty starting sweeping 360 degrees around Wes like Bobby was doing with Grant.

Wes motioned to Grant that he would go through the back door. Wait. What if the back door was locked? How would they get in? Kick in the door? That was harder than it looked on TV. Grant had tried it once when a friend’s rental house was being demolished. He had tried to kick the door in and hurt his leg. Grant wished they’d brought a sledge hammer or a shotgun with rifled slugs for the hinges. Next time they would have one…

Suddenly, the back door flew open. It almost hit Wes, who reflexively pointed his AR toward the threat coming at him.

It was a little girl. A terrified, naked, bruised little girl. Maybe ten years old. She was screaming. Wes raised his AR away from her and got out of the way. She ran right past him. Out of habit, Grant pointed his AR at the “threat” and then realized that she wasn’t a threat and lowered his AR. She kept running.

Next through the door was a screaming woman, unarmed, with her clothes on. She ran right past Wes, too. Grant covered her and then Bobby started covering her. Bobby didn’t know if he was supposed to chase the girl and woman or let them keep running. No one seemed to know what to do.

By now, Wes was out of the way. He was off to a side. He waited to see if anyone else was coming out the back door. He looked terrifying with his AR aimed in position. Anyone running out the door and seeing Wes pointing that AR at them would think they were going to die. Good.

Suddenly, a man came running out the back door. Wes and Grant didn’t lower their ARs like they did with the girl and woman. This was different; a man was a threat. A girl or woman only
might
be a threat, but a man was a threat, for sure.

The man came through the door and saw Wes with the AR pointed right at him. He threw up his hands and fell down. His momentum from running, followed by his sudden hands going up had caused him to trip. Wes quickly stopped covering the man and went back to covering the back door. He knew from hours at the range with the Team that someone else would cover the man on the ground, and that is just what Grant did.

The man fell with his hands to his sides. He’d been through this before. Grant scanned him to see if he had a gun. The man had his clothes on, and his chest and waist were on the ground, so it was hard to be sure he wasn’t armed. Grant focused on the man’s hands. Tunnel vision. Don’t fall into tunnel vision, Grant told himself. He forced himself to look up and scan around. Was anyone running toward him? No. Just Bobby, who was now covering the man on the ground. All of this took about a second and a half.

Now that Bobby had the man covered, Grant didn’t have to. He swept around one more time to make sure no one was coming after him from some unexpected angle. They had constantly done this at the range. “Search and assess” they called it, which was scanning around the target before and after shooting. “Bad guys travel in packs,” Special Forces Ted used to say on the range. That’s what search and assess was for: making sure there weren’t other bad guys around. It was weird how all they’d practiced was now becoming automatic reflexes.

Grant thought about the girl and woman running around and wondered if they should be trying to capture them. He thought about it and…

A second man came running through the door. He was in his underwear. He ran right toward Wes and that terrifying AR. Seeing Wes’s AR, the man instantly turned around and started running back into the house.

Wes adjusted his stance like he was going to shoot. Then he realized the second man was seemingly unarmed and that he would be shooting him in the back. Wes hesitated. Grant started to cover the second man, but he was back in the house now, probably getting a gun.

Wes started to run into the house after him. “Goin’ in!” he yelled. Grant was scanning the area near Wes. Bobby was stomping on the first man’s hands and his ankles. No need to worry about that guy grabbing a gun or taking off now. Bobby started covering the backyard and back door—360 degrees—with sweeps of his AR.

Grant felt helpless watching Wes run into the house without him. He felt like he should follow Wes in. He didn’t know if it was a good idea, but he started running after him. Grant looked back and Bobby looked puzzled, like he was wondering if he should be following Grant, too. But Bobby knew that they couldn’t leave the left flank and entire backyard uncovered so he stayed put.

Hearing Wes yell, “Goin’ in,” Scotty knew that he needed to leave the right flank and cover the back door and as much of the right flank as possible. That had been the plan, so Scotty came around the corner. When Grant saw movement out of the corner of his eye, he jerked his AR over that way. He saw Scotty running around the corner and re-jerked his AR back toward the back door. Grant realized how easy it would be to shoot one of the good guys in this whole mushy, adrenaline, fast-moving blur – especially with his safety off, which he knew he wasn’t supposed to do. Grant was amazed at how clear his thoughts were on things like this.

Wes was inside by now and Grant went right behind him. The back door led to a kitchen, which was a mess. It looked like animals lived there.

Wes was leaving the kitchen and heading into the rest of the house. Grant heard some screaming in Wes’s direction. There was a woman screaming followed by a bunch of shots, and then Ryan and Pow yelling. Grant couldn’t make out what they were saying – the gun shots were extremely loud without the hearing protection they normally wore at the range – but the shouts from Ryan and Pow sounded commanding and scared at the same time.

By now, Grant was almost through the kitchen and was headed through the doorway to the rest of the house. He was sweeping the kitchen with his AR as he ran through it.

Suddenly, a screaming woman came right at him. She wasn’t armed—she was in her underwear so there was no place to hide a gun—but she was charging him. She was a skinny, drugged out tweaker. She looked about fifty years old, but was probably really about thirty. Her eyes were as big as saucers and she was screaming at the top of her lungs.

Grant didn’t know what to do. Shoot her? No. He couldn’t do that. She wasn’t armed. She was about ten feet from him, running right toward his AR that he had pointed at her chest. Grant didn’t know what to do. He really didn’t want to shoot her. These thoughts took a fraction of a second.

Now she was about six feet away. Then Grant did it.

Chapter 140

“Clear!”

(May 14)

Grant jabbed the end of his rifle at the screaming woman who was lunging at him. It was like a bayonet jab, but he didn’t have a bayonet on the end. He just jammed her hard with the barrel of his rifle. Very hard, violently hard.

In that moment, he forgot that he had a flash hider on the end of his rifle with serrations for cutting through a car window. They were fairly common on tactical flash hiders. They were only about $10 more than a smooth-edged flash hider. Grant had Chip put it on his AR when he was building it. Back then, Chip pointed at the sharp serrations on the end of the flash hider and said, “These ain’t for a car window, my friend. It’s a last-ditch mini-bayonet.” Grant had wondered if having a sharp-edged flash hider was really useful or just a gimmick.

He had just found out that it was no gimmick.

Between the woman’s speed running toward him and Grant’s jamming her with the end of his rifle, the serrated flash hider was thrust about a half an inch into her chest. The force of the collision actually hurt Grant’s right wrist, which was on the pistol grip of his AR. He almost fell backwards from the force.