Home Fires Burning (Walking in the Rain Book 2) (22 page)

“He dead?” Conners asked, squatting down and taking up a firing position back the way we came.  Barden was doing the same in front, and when he glanced back he gave me a little nod of acknowledgement.

“Give me a second,” was all I said as I knelt over the body.  He was motionless and after I felt for a pulse, I pulled my knife once again.  Separating the magazine fed rifle from the guard, I quickly patted the man down and located two more magazines.  Then I cut the man’s throat to be sure he was going to stay down and peeked inside the open door.  It was a bathroom, and from the stink one that was recently used.  There was a bucket of water on the floor, which explained why the toilets still worked.  Still on my knees, I tugged the body out, pulled the door shut and stood carefully to inspect the new rifle.

Some kind of AK variant, I quickly decided, and slung the weapon over my shoulder and slipped the two magazines into a back pocket.  I’d stick to the shotgun for now, but I had a policy of never leaving weapons behind for an enemy to use.  That just seemed like a prudent way of handling my business.

Without another word, we picked up our pace and quickly arrived at the seventh door on the right, just as David had said.  Seeing the other end of the hallway ended in a closed door, Barden hustled down and used a screwdriver to jam into the top exposed door hinge.  That would allow me to focus on covering the way we came up, at least at first.  Cool.  Sergeant Erlich had ordered us to hold in place and await extraction, which to me meant hunker down with any prisoners and keep from getting shot. 

We took up positions with our backs brushing the wall and I withdrew the short handled crowbar from my belt.  Before I could get the tool in place, Conners mimed something and on the second repeat I caught his message.  Try the door first to see if it was really locked.  I did and it was, but still a good idea.

The aggressive teeth of the crowbar bit into the wooden facing of the door frame and I was set to execute.  As soon as I door was breached, I was to fall back and cover the hallway while my two companions poured through the door.  They would clear the room and take down any hostiles.  Then Conners gave the go, and thing started happening in rapid succession.

The crack of the shattering door frame sounded explosive in the otherwise quiet hallway, and before the door was even halfway open, Barden and Conners charged through like greased weasels.  Following Conners’ instructions, I fell back and took a knee, shotgun aimed at the top of the stairs.

I heard shouts, screams and the familiar beat of 5.56x45 rounds being fired in controlled bursts.  I wanted, needed, to look over my shoulder at the commotion, but duty held me in place.  Those two brave men were risking their lives and depending on me to protect them in turn.  The least I could do was watch the hallway.

In seconds, I heard first Conners and then Barden call out “clear” even as screams continued to echo in the cooridor.  From the sound, it was a mixture a male and female, and I wondered what was going on in there.  Conners didn’t leave me long in suspense.  He called out to me from just inside the door.

“Luke, Bar and I are fine.  We got two hostiles dead, one hostile wounded and three prisoners.  Also have four hostages freed and in need of medical.  What’s your status?”

“Clear.  No movement yet.”

Then, to make a liar out of me, I heard boot steps coming from the stairway.  I couldn’t say numbers but definitely more than one person.

“Check that.  I got somebody coming to take a look, and I think he brought friends.” I replied in a soft voice, hoping Conners would hear me.

“If they have weapons, you are authorized to defend yourself, Luke.  Watch our back.  I’ll be along ASAP to assist.”

By the time Corporal Conners stopped talking, I could see a shape moving up the stairs.  I hunkered down and took aim with the shotgun, wishing I had somewhere better to take cover.  The figure was indistinct in the poor lighting but I could make out a rifle and he wasn’t wearing a uniform.

Boom!  The shotgun roared in the confined space, and at a range of about twenty yards the responding guard’s head and upper torso erupted in a dark spray.  He toppled back down the stairs amidst a chorus of screams.  The shotgun must have been loaded with buckshot, I guessed as I racked another shell in the chamber.

Wild shots coming up from the wide stairwell struck nothing but the ceiling and windows.  I belly crawled a few yards closer to the landing when the shooting died down.  To be really effective, I needed a spot just back from the edge.  Unfortunately, with the other access door behind me only jammed shut, I feared an attack from that avenue and I couldn’t watch both directions at once.  That jammed hinge would not hold up for long.

Then I remembered the fresh corpse I’d dropped, and I slid back closer to the “party” room.  With one hand holding the shotgun still pointed down the hall, I reached over and took a grip on the dead man’s belt.  Slowly, I hauled the body down the linoleum as I walked on my knees.

Once I wrestled the dead weight into place across the hall, I dropped down and used the corpse as a rest for my shotgun.  Aggravated by the slung rifle getting in my way, I laid it on the floor next to me and waited for the foot shuffling I could hear downstairs to reach critical mass.

By my count, about five minutes passed before they tried to rush the stairs again.  This time, the effort was a bit more organized as shooters crept up on the first landing and laid down a barrage of covering fire before three men sprinted up the stairs.  Fortunately for me, I was far enough back to avoid any bouncers from the blaze of bullets, and I triggered the shotgun as soon as I saw the lead runner’s head clear the level of the landing.

Working the action quickly, I fired a second and third blast from the weapon, catching the last two with overlapping patterns of shot.  The first man never made it up the stairs.  Of the two hitting the landing together, I saw one was dead immediately with a pellet striking in the center of his forehead.  The last man looked like he took buckshot in the chest and legs.  He was still alive and screaming at the top of his lungs, at any rate.

“Quit your whining,” I said to myself as I shoved additional shells into the shotgun’s magazine.  Without the magazine extension, this model only accepted six rounds but I would deal.  Without counting anyone eliminated in the party room, I’d already accounted for five enemy shooters.  Well, six if you included poor David.  After laughing about the women and girls he’d helped rape, I had a hard time dredging up a ton of sympathy for the slain giant.

I heard movement behind me and chanced a quick glance back.  I found Conners just exiting one of the other rooms behind me.  Shit, I’d committed a rookie mistake and forgot the other offices after getting fixated on this single avenue of approach.  Fortunately the savvy corporal was covering for me.

“What you got?” he asked, dropping down next to me and shouldering his carbine.

“They just tried to rush the stairs and got spanked.  There’s two here, and two more down stairs with buckshot in them.”

“There any more with them?”

“Oh, yeah.  I think they had at least three guys trying to give cover fire.  Maybe more.  What does the sergeant have to say?”

Conners gestured to his earpiece.

“Captain Devayne is on now.  He’s got the rest of the boys offloading a little ways back and closing on foot.  Since I said we are holding here now, he’s going to assault the band hall first.  You got another half hour in you, Luke?”

“I do, but you need to cover the other door down there.  I figure they’ll try it next.”

“Headed that way.”

“How bad was it in there?”

“Bad, Luke.  I mean, I thought Barden was just going to hose them once we got the cuffs on.”

“Did Jimenez make it? And what about Rufus?”

“Jimenez did.  I recognized him.  I don’t know about the other guys yet.  The two guys we capped certainly looked like muscle.  I saw a pair of police uniforms in there, all neat and folded up.”

“Yes, Rufus reportedly has a couple of cops working as his bodyguards.  Well, we will see what’s in the trap after we weather this storm.”

Conners held out his fist in a familiar way, and I gave him a fist bump in agreement.    

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

              The grenade nearly scared me to death.  Whoever lobbed it up had a good arm, and the small device ricocheted off the far wall and landed not five yards in front of me.

              “Grenade!” I screamed, and then it detonated.  I hunkered down and missed the flash but then the hall began to fill with smoke.  Conners probably would have recognized the grenade as a smoker, but I just saw death in a little ovoid sphere.  I was already behind the reaction curve as I heard a sudden rush of footsteps up the stairs.  These guys had a persistent quality to them for sure.

              For the last ten minutes Conners and I waited while dodging the occasional potshot from one end of the building or the other.  No one had seriously tried to mess with the other entry way after Conners waited for a group to stack up and attempted to breach the door.  He’d gone full auto and sprayed right through the cheap wood barrier, killing or wounding several in the process.

              As the white smoke began to fill the space in front of me, I blindly fired the shotgun into the obscured area, hoping the buckshot would find flesh.  From the cries erupting, I knew some pellets struck home.  I also noticed the shockwave of the muzzle blast cleared a cone of air in front of me for a brief second, both giving me a glimpse of the growing mound of bodies and acting as a point of aim for men trying to kill me.

              Bullets impacted the corpse I was using as cover, and I slid further back and closer to the wall as I emptied the shotgun’s magazine.  Instead of reloading, I dropped the empty weapon and grabbed the AK.  This was a civilian model, semi-automatic, with a thirty round magazine.  For once I wasn’t worried about the accuracy.  We were entering what my father would call knife fighting range at this stage.

              The AK bucked in my hand as I swept the barrel back and forth, triggering rounds in an irregular pattern.  In addition to constant pounding on my ears from the roar and boom of the weapons, my throat was burning and I felt my eyes tearing in a useless effort to combat the itching, stinging smoke.  These were meaningless sensations and I relegated them to the back of my mind as the fight for my life reached a ferocious pitch. 

Bullets pounded into the wall overhead and I heard more cries of pain and terror but I would not, could not, stop.  The smoke rolled over me and I was completely blinded by the acrid veil.  I continued firing, hoping to erect a wall of lead my attackers would not be able to penetrate.

              Then I felt something slam into me, a body toppling over the corpse and falling on my already prone form.  I barely made out the shape of the man as he struggled to bring his shotgun into play, the weapon trapped momentarily between our bodies.  He was on my back and for a helpless instant I was trapped.  Then the idling demon, the berserker I’d been holding in check since the battle started, broke free and time seemed to slow down.

              Using my knees, I lifted and rolled, to find myself now completely trapped against the wall as the snarling, bearded man tried to swing his shotgun around.  Frantically digging into my pocket, I found the small knife and lunged.  The blade barely had time to deploy before I buried it up to the hilt in the man’s throat.  As he bucked and tugged at the knife, bleeding out, I snagged his shotgun and rapid fired the magazine dry into the billowing smoke.

              A roar erupted from my chest as I emptied the shotgun, and my blind hands found the AK and began firing once again.  I rose from my crouch and edged over to the lip of the landing, crawling over unseen bodies as I began to fire down into the landing below.  Then into the foyer at the base of the stairs.

              When the AK clicked empty, I dropped the magazine automatically and fished a fresh one from my back pocket.  As I rocked the full magazine into place, I heard a noise behind me and spun.  The rifle was almost to my shoulder before recognition dawned.  In the smoke, I saw Corporal Conners.  He was crouched down and had his carbine set.

              “You okay?” he asked, and his voice sounded further away just the scant few yards separating us.

              “I’m alright,” I managed to gasp, the act of speaking making my throat burn.

              “Captain said to quote ‘get that maniac to stop shooting’ unquote.  They’ve secured the band hall and seized the first floor of this building.  We’re good, Luke.  You can stand down.”

“Were the girls still there?  Summer and the others?”

Conners shrugged.  “Too soon to have any details, man.  Captain said there were over forty girls in the band hall, though.  Some with parents from the center are already trying to get them out, but we need to get a handle on things first.”

“And the first thing I need to do is check on Bar and the prisoners.  Then, I need to get rid of that smoke grenade and let this fucking place air out a little bit.”

“Sorry.  I should have just tossed it back down the stairs.  I thought it was a, you know, real grenade,” I said, looking down.  I hoped the smoke covered the embarrassed redness I was sure colored my cheeks.