Abandoned Airfield
Old 2/19th SWG Secure Area
Task Force 38 Intelligence Area
Secure Area
Alfenwehr, Germany
24 November, 2004
0410 Hours

The side door was only about twenty paces from the corner, and I took a look through it before opening it carefully. I was looking for any tension that felt out of place, trying to listen over the wind for the sound of any wire having tension put on it or any scraping that was out of place.

Nothing.

Once I got the door open far enough, I scooted inside, holding it open enough for Gunny to follow me in. The lack of wind made me instantly feel warmer, but I reminded myself that it was largely illusionary and that I needed to be careful. Everyone's gear was strapped down, so we were largely silent as moved down the hallway, heading for the main control area. I knew, without knowing how, that Agent Taylor would be there.

The problem was, there were three large rooms between the only entrance to the control room and any point inside. It had been designed that way deliberately, to make the enemy pay dearly for any last holding action that the enemy might have to overcome.

Part of me wished I could lay my hands on another FAE device to just drop the building and call it good, but the rest of me needed to see Taylor die with my own eyes.

We got close to the first large room. The ready room where we'd all wait to board the helicopters or a C-131 for deployment or deployment practice. Then there would be a second area, separated by long counters and a wall that was mostly plywood and glass that was where the controllers hung out.

I was heading for the door, intending to look through the glass, when it all came apart on us.

Four guys came down the stairs, moving fast, and there was a moment of surprise on both sides that allowed them to take two more steps before everything started moving.

Stokes got her rifle up first, dumping the magazine into the stairwell and the four men as fast as possible. Hernandez was second, shooting at them. The four men reacted at the same time, two of them firing, the other throwing himself to the floor, willing to soak up the damage of falling five feet and having his shins slam on the steps.

Two of the men on the stairwell staggered as the bullets hit them in the ceramic ballistic plates, injured but not out of the fight. The third went down screaming as the tumbling 5.56mm rounds amputated his arm at mid-biceps. Blood sprayed against the wall as Nancy took a hit in the throat and her face. The one of the ground fired, hitting Nancy again just as Captain Blake shot him in the face. Gunny fired two sharp bursts as the two still up fired wildly, their bullets hitting Nancy again and Aine, who was moving to help Nancy. Aine slammed against the wall, blood running out of her mouth, and she coughed crimson that froze on the tile.

I managed to get my pistol clear just as two men barged into the hallway from the room we were heading for, both of them ready, and my attention shifted to them, knowing that the two of them could kill all of us before we could stop them unless someone engaged them.

Two shots from the .45 and one went down, his chest exploding as I hit him center mass. The second guy had on a vest and I had to adjust my aim to hit him in the face, which took me just long enough for him to shoot back. Something plucked at my sleeve and I felt a burning sensation across the outside of my right biceps as I pulled the trigger. When he went down he spun, finger clamping on the trigger in a death spasm, that hosed the entire magazine into the ceiling. Bullets howled on the concrete, some of them ricocheting, others blowing craters in the cinderblocks.

I glanced back to see Aine pulling herself up, then looked forward as I jumped up from my crouched position and headed toward the doorway, swapping hands for my pistol and grabbing a frag grenade off my ammo pouch. I pulled open the door, saw someone on the other side, shot them twice, and threw the grenade inside before moving across the doorway to the far side.

More shots rang out from behind me, and I heard boots thundering on the stairs. The grenade went off inside the room as I holstered the pistol and brought my M16 around, my hands checking the M203 out of habit, since my brain already knew that I'd loaded up the APERS round. Before the sound of the grenade had faded I kicked in the door, cutting to my left to keep my right firing angle free.

There were a half dozen men picking themselves up off the floor. There was blood all over the place, and I almost tripped on a severed arm. Before they could react I pulled the trigger on the 40mm meat axe and kept moving, the heavy shotgun like ball bearings tearing men apart.

The screaming got louder. I bayoneted a guy who tried to stand up, his lack of body armor meaning that the thrust went deep into his chest, and I pulled the trigger to blow apart his chest and remove any chance of getting hung up on bone or suction holding the bayonet blade. Someone else shot at me and I felt my rib go as the single shot hit me on the right side of the vest. Stokes burst into the room, shot the guy who shot me, and kept going.

The glass on part of the partition shattered as someone fired full auto, by himself for a moment, then two other weapons joining. Stokes threw herself to the floor and Gunny Beakman, who had followed her, threw a grenade over the partition. I copied him, flipping over one of the intact tables that had replaced all the chairs and ducking down.

Glass exploded outwards and the screaming started again as I pushed myself up and threw my body against the partition, shattering the partition right before I crashed into someone who was standing up screaming. A part of me noted that his arm was gone and his face a mask of blood, but I shot him anyway before jumping to my feet.

Captain Blake came into the room, and someone firing from the main control center, darkness and the muzzle flare hiding who it was, shot him. He went down and didn't move. I hosed off the rest of the magazine into the control room then started changing magazines. Gunny Beakman got off four shots before his bolt locked back. Hernandez followed, firing to give herself cover fire, and managed to throw herself down behind one of the tables, on top of two bodies. She started changing magazines.

Bullets tore through the table and Herndandez's rifle dropped from her hands as she went limp.

Aine flew in through the door, rolling agilely, and scampered up next to me. Blood was running down her chin and her eyes were wild. Stokes got up, cocked back her arm to throw a grenade into the control room, and the burst took her center mass, spinning her around and dropping her to the floor with a cry of pain.

I shoved myself off, charging through the door to the control room. Gunny Beakman was next, but the guy who had been too slow to hit me hit the Marine and he went down bonelessly and didn't move. Aine followed, screaming that screeching war cry that set all my nerves on end.

"BLOOD! BLOOD FOR LUGUS!" She howled as she leaped over a desk and tackled a man with an M-4 rifle.

The grenade went off in the room.

A piece of shrapnel buried itself into my calf muscle, but I ignored it as I hosed off an entire magazine into the overturned desks. Someone stood up as I let go of the rifle and reached for my pistol, firing an M-4 at me. The bullets missed, my pistol cleared the holster, more bullets missed and it started coming up.

I was hit in the stomach at the same time as I shot him in the face.

Outside there was a large enough explosion to send suspended ceiling towels clattering to the floor. The wind picked up and I knew the building had been breached even further. The guy I had shot went over backwards, arcing his back as his body followed his brains last commands that he try to save himself.

My M-16 clattered on the icy tile as I went down on my ass, pulling a grenade free and yanking the pin. Aine stood up from behind that desk, her athema in her hand dripping blood, and scampered toward me, bending down to scoop up one of the dropped M-4's as she tucked the cruel iron blade behind her back into wherever she kept it. I milked the grenade as she ducked down behind one of the metal desks that had been flipped over. Gunny Beakman rolled over, groaning, and tried to push himself up.

The grenade wobbled in the air as I lobbed it over the desks so it bounced off the far wall and came back toward the flipped over desks. I rolled onto my side and curled into a ball, opening my mouth, and the grenade went off.

My belly felt like it was full of fire ants, gnawing and chewing through my guts, and I knew it had been too close for my Kevlar vest to stop. I managed to get up on my knees as the big Marine got to his feet, swaying slightly, his M-4 in his hand, and stated reloading his weapon. Aine popped up like a little daisy from behind the desk, throwing a grenade in through an open door and into the office beyond. I followed suit with my last grenade into a different office, not even caring if Agent Taylor was in there.

There was no warning, nothing like in the movies, when five guys all appeared at the door. One threw a grenade, which Aine caught, spun in place, and fastballed back toward them. Gunny lifted his weapon one handed and clamped down on the trigger.

Forgetting that the full magazine was in his other hand.

The big Marine caught all the attention, and the other four guys concentrated fire on him as I brought my weapon around, my hands swapping out the M-203. Gunny went down, multiple hits tearing the man apart and blood spraying behind him.

Someone on the other side of the five men at the doorway opened up, killing two instantly. The other three moved forward into the room, one of them reflex firing back into the hallway.

I pulled the trigger on a second APERS round at a distance of less than ten meters. The packed ball bearing tore into them, severing arms and legs and pulping torsos. Gore and blood showered the hallway as they all went down.

Another burst from out in the hallway into the dead men and then silence.

I looked around for a moment, then moved back across the divider to check Stokes.  The grenade had been less than five feet from her when it went off, and the force of it had torn off her massive leg at mid-thigh. I rolled her over and looked at her face.

She looked serene, calm, and her eyes stared past me at something only she could see.

I closed her eyes, holding it for minute, then looked up as Captain Blake staggered into the doorway. He was dragging his left leg slightly as he moved into the room, looking around as Aine moved over to check Hernandez. When I glanced at her she shook her head and moved toward me, one hand pressed to her midsection.

Captain Sawyer moved up next to me and looked around at the three of us before he shook his head, "Everyone else is dead."

I nodded, trying not to think of what this had cost me.

"Not everyone," Agent Taylor said, stepping out of the office I'd grenaded.

And shot Captain Sawyer in the side of the head, killing the man instantly.

I turned to face him and he shot me twice in the stomach, stopping me in my tracks. I didn't go down, but I wanted to. The agony spread through my stomach, taking my breath away, and my vision went blurry for a second.

The lizard hammered on the damage control buttons, trying to keep us on our feet.

Aine managed to get two shots off, then took a double-tap to the chest that threw her down on the floor.

I let my empty weapon fall from my hands and took a step forward.

Agent Taylor turned around and walked back into the office he had stepped out of.

I followed.

Full of agony, the little lizard not only keeping me upright but keeping me from seeing any of the recent memories that hurt even more than the three gunshot wounds, I staggered after him, my hands empty and my fingers already purplish from trauma.

I was limping, my calf throbbing, the shrapnel from the grenade slowing me down. More and more injury reports were flooding in as the little lizard tried to keep me upright. Three cracked ribs. Four broken ribs. Shrapnel in my left hand. Broken pinky on my right. Deaf in one ear, severely compromised hearing in my right ear. Intestinal damage. Bullet injury to the meat of my thigh.

I was a staggering wreck, kept in motion only through sheer hatred, as I followed Agent Taylor into the office.

A battery operated lantern lit up just as I reached the door.

Agent Taylor was standing behind the table, smiling, his pistol in his hand.

"At long last," He smiled.