The Reaper: No Mercy (23 page)

"Remember to always wait on my commands," he called out, just loud enough to be heard in their vicinity but not so loud that the marauders could hear him. The brick fence of the cemetery was over a hundred yards to his north, and he had spent twenty minutes getting his people into position. A chorus of "Yes, sirs" greeted his announcement and inwardly he grinned. Most of these civilians had real potential, and were not only much smarter but had more common sense than many of the third world indigents he had helped train over the years. Olsen was in his element, and happy.

"I know the ground is cold; deal with it, people. The operation is about to go hot and we'll be needed shortly. Do not under any circumstances raise your heads or bodies before I give the signal. It'll be scary for most of you. Rounds will be flying over our heads, but stay down until I tell you to rise. Do not panic or you're likely dead. Stay loose and calm. We'll have our turn."

Another chorus of "Yes, sirs" greeted this announcement and he smiled again. He keyed his tactical headset tuned to command frequency.

"A-2 in position."

"Roger that. Reaper in position. Assault One and supporting elements, where are you at?"
the rough voice of the Reaper answered him.

"Fox Six in position, and about to commence"
answered Rodriguez from his idling M-ATV.

"Whiskey Six, in position and holding."
responded Schuster.

"Blue Team. Status update,"
called out the Reaper.

"Infiltrating now! Going to radio silence,"
answered Captain Hewitt.

Olsen grinned to himself. It was about to get busy and he couldn't wait. Blue Team was about to infiltrate the compound from the south and secure the hostages. Upon achieving that objective, Red Team would commence their assault into the compound from the north as the M-ATVs fired into the cemetery from the west at targets of opportunity.

He called out one last time, "Heads down people, it's commencing!" and then he was hugging the ground along with the fourteen others arrayed to either side of him, and waited.

*****

Captain Roger Hewitt crouched next to the decorative brick wall and, using hand signals, directed his men to scale the fence near several pines that provided close cover. Redding and Bloom were first, followed by Vanden and Schmidt. The others quickly followed, with McCombs and Dewey scaling the wall last. The heavy weapons personnel had their 240s strapped to their backs as they rolled over the low wall. Hewitt quickly followed, then slowly proceeded to the front of their column. They were moving in on the catacomb’s position and his suppressor was already attached.

Six of his team, including him, carried suppressed weapons, which were not exactly silent. They could only be used in the right situation with the right background noise. Their objective was to secure the entrance and, secondarily, to set up a triage center for friendly wounded. All of them carried packs, some quite large. Hewitt continued to creep forward, giving hand signals for his men to follow.

There! Four men stood grouped around a blazing fifty-five-gallon drum, warming their hands. Several empty bottle of liquor lay on the ground near their position, and they were laughing at something one of them said while another was changing CDs on the portable player which rested on a crate near them.
Perfect
! thought Hewitt as he cupped his hand behind his body to signal close up support. Immediately Redding and Bloom closed on his position, their suppressed M4s held ready. The magazines were color-coded blue, which normally meant practice rounds, but in this case it meant they carried the lower charge, sub-sonic 5.56 rounds needed for this type of mission.

Quickly, the fingers on his right hand slapped each man as he pointed out specific targets for them. There was no need for speech. No clink of equipment, as everything was taped to eliminate sound. Hewitt would service the first two targets himself, but only at the right moment. It was important to execute an operation at the perfect moment. Two of these men before them had their fingers on the triggers of their weapons and that was not a good thing, and personally irritated Hewitt as being unsafe weapons practice. They needed that moment when all before them either set their weapons down, or simply removed their fingers from the trigger. Death spasms had a way of causing muscle contractions, and Blue Team could not afford for unsuppressed shots to be heard.

Wait!
One of the guards set down his gun, then rummaged in a sack nearby. A full bottle of liquor was brought forth, and the man held it upward in triumph. The other Tango, or combatant, reached for it also, only to be denied its contents by his joking brethren.
Wait for it, wait!
Then the second man slung his rifle across his shoulder, reached for the bottle with both hands and approached the other who was stepping backwards, a stupid grin on his face. Beside them the third man finally loaded a new CD and music blasted forth.

Instantly, the suppressed M4 in Hewitt's hands rose as he sighted in on the first of his targets.
Breath out
. The trigger pulled, and three rounds were on their way as he automatically sighted in on the second target. Beside him, Redding and Bloom fired almost simultaneously, and three targets dropped to the ground. The fourth looked over in surprise from his position near the entrance to the catacombs. However, it was already too late, as the double punch Hewitt delivered sent this douche bag to hell.

All four Tangos were on the ground, and as Hewitt ran forward he didn't bother checking pulses. He always knew where his rounds hit. Wait, one of the marauders was still breathing!

Hewitt smiled down at the wounded figure before rotating his gun down and pressed the trigger again. No prisoners at the catacombs, the order had been, and one with which he heartily agreed. These were all taken care of, and he secured the entrance, gazing downward into its murky depths, his M4 up and ready. Behind him, his men were dragging the bodies into the brush before setting up defensive positions.

Quickly he descended as he looked for targets. The lower room was poorly illuminated, and he saw huddled forms crouched against the walls, far away from the staircase leading down.

"Who are you?" One of the pitiful forms had raised her head, asking a simple question. He smiled tightly as he continued scanning. No Tango would ever get the drop on him, he vowed.

He responded, "the Calvary." He clicked his microphone twice, and immediately Russell and Kline trotted down the stairs and opened up the large packs they carried. They would set up a temporary triage station for incoming wounded. They were very good at their jobs.

"What? Rescue?" the plaintive words of the woman addressed at Hewitt only strengthened his resolve to see them all safe. It was obvious she was inured to her captivity, and Hewitt felt sympathy for her, but right now the others were ready to move in and he needed to let them know the captives were secured.

"Wait and see." And then he was running up the steps. Before him, the hidden forms of his men could be seen covering the entrance from anyone approaching.
They’ll hold this location with a firm hand
, he thought, as he keyed his microphone.

"Blue reports mission objective attained. Holding position, and able to accept incoming!"

"
Copy that. Phase two beginning,
" came the voice of the Reaper, and instantly Hewitt took up a position within the entrance to provide covering fire on anyone approaching.

*****

"How soon until you're done?" Ringo demanded. He was currently overseeing the construction of the four semi tractors they were converting into armored vehicles to take on those the soldiers had.
Those fucking soldiers will not interfere again, for they won’t be alive to do so
, he thought as he pulled Kelsey closer.

"Later this morning, Ringo," one of the men responded while the others continued welding sheets of plate steel to the framework of the rigs. Ringo shielded his eyes against the bright flashes of light, then shrugged as he turned away. When his guys were finished he would take every man, except for a few to guard the slaves, and attack those soldier assholes. The cannon fodder would go first ... which reminded him. Where in the hell did Tony go with that girl? He'd had his men do a half-assed search for him, but they had been unable to find him. Ringo figured that bastard was probably half a state away by now if he’d killed the girl.

Right now, Ringo was drunk, and up later than usual.
Fuck, it was cold
, he thought again as he dug one hand down the front of Kelsey’s coat to fondle her. His cold hand made her jerk, but otherwise she remained stoic and indifferent to his advances. He kept her close so his hand wouldn't lose the warmth as he dragged them towards the seminary where his rooms awaited. Ringo had to admit he could see the appeal Tony had with these younger girls. Soon he would have to off her, as already she was turning apathetic like the others he'd taken. At first they'd scream and cry, which was a turn-on, and then they'd close up inside themselves and stop eating.

Kelsey suddenly stumbled, causing Ringo's hand to leave the warmth of her body, and as his hand rose to cuff her to the ground, he heard gunfire. A lot of gunfire, and coming from the northern fence line. Kelsey forgotten, Ringo ran to the seminary while shouting to his men that they were under attack. Fucking soldier boys, he would show them!

*****

Rodriguez had never worked faster in his life. He and his men had linked the .50 and 7.62 belts together to fill several ammo cans for each M-ATV, as Newaygo had sent a shitload of ammunition and Rodriguez wanted everything perfect. More than that! He wanted no hiccups to the operational plan the Reaper had laid out. He was finally getting a chance at payback for the days of inactivity while watching the marauders exploit and kill others, and he wasn't going to fuck this up.

"
Fox Six, move out Fox Element
," he commanded over his helmet microphone. Immediately, he felt the vehicle he was sitting in lurch forward as the driver drove them out of the bay before turning west and accelerating. They would head along this vector at least two miles before circling to the north. Then, just north of the cemetery, they would sweep south slowly, closing the gap to their ultimate position.

As they moved into position thirty minutes later, he played with the CROW's screen, disregarding the control stick gunner’s toggle for now. The toggle looked exactly like a gaming joystick. He would use the controls built into the CROW's display to control the .50 caliber gun above his head. When it was payback time, he would grab that joystick and light up the motherfuckers. He was so looking forward to this, but right now he couldn't trust himself to handle the one control that would rain death, at the touch of a button, upon the bastards who had been terrorizing this town for weeks. He contented himself with the screen, though his eyes constantly shifted to the stick.

*****

The Reaper settled down on the warehouse roof just north of the cemetery. He was three stories up, his rifle before him resting on a small sandbag, as light snow fell from the dark sky. His eyes had already adjusted to the lack of illumination surrounding him, and as he looked out over the target area he saw that much of it was brightly lit from bonfires and floodlights. Obviously they had at least one generator running. He listened as the teams reported in, and responded appropriately while simultaneously laying out the tools of death.

"Blue reports mission objective attained. Holding position, and able to accept incoming!"

"Copy that. Phase two beginning," the Reaper responded as the feed came live over his tactical net. He peered through the scope and saw the arrayed figures of Assault Team One, or Red Team, crouched against the north side of the brick fence. Shifting to his right, he zoomed in on the idling engines of Fox Element’s four M-ATVs stretched out along Highway 24, then keyed his microphone again.

"Fox Element, Paris Six. Are you ready?"

Instantly Rodriguez's voice responded. "
Fox in position. Ready to echelon with supporting fire.
" This told the Reaper that the M-ATVs were ready to fire, and that all four of the M-ATVs had already pointed their weapons within the cemetery.

"Copy that, Fox, hold one. Whiskey Element, your status!"

"Whiskey in holding pattern in secure formation. Waiting on the fireworks to start and listening to the bitching of the security detail!" responded Shue, who was letting the Reaper know that they were ready but also that the group assigned for security wanted in on the marauders and not against the zombies that would be moving in shortly. A small smile curved his lips as the Reaper keyed his microphone again.

"Assault Two, are you in position and ready?" Jason called out to Master Sergeant Olsen to verify they were ready.

"
Ready, sir. Assault Two in place and ready, willing, and able to fuck them up when they drive past."
The Reaper grinned at the words. Not because it was vulgar, but because of the excitement he heard in Olsen's voice. He continued. "Red Six. Are you a go?"

"
We are a go, Paris Six. In position and getting bored, over
." There was a pause in there and the Reaper grinned again. Sokowski was gung ho and wanted to do this. Every element needed to be in place though, and he fast-forwarded to the present, bringing his rifle around to sight on figures near the seminary. Sighting in on one in particularly, he murmured ...