Awakening

A Sunday Sermon

I remove a smaller pack from within the ruck I brought. I don’t want the bulk of the larger pack and didn’t bring all that much gear. I quickly transfer the items from the larger pack to the smaller.

“Well, that was fun,” I say as darkness almost encircles us. There is still some light as the sun hasn’t completely disappeared. I hope Robert and the others make it down safely.

“Yeah, if you say so, Jack. I’m pretty sure my stomach completely dropped out of my body stepping off the ramp. It should be landing shortly so I’d look out,” Greg replies.

I chuckle donning my pack,” Yeah, mine too.”

Readying our M-4’s, Greg and I head to the small rectangular building rising from the roof nearby. The steel door opens outward but is locked. I remove the slim jim and set to work getting the door open. The slim jim has a “T” at the top with one of the ends tapering to a rounded point. It is meant to wedge between the door and the jamb and then press down with the tapered end behind the latch. The tapered end will cause the latch to recede into the door either by pressing down or pulling. I feel the latch recede and pull the door open putting the gear back in my pack.

“Let’s go to VOX,” I say as we lower our NVG’s and see the top landing of a stairwell behind the door. A chilled sweep of air brushes against my cheeks. Greg and I quietly head down the concrete steps focusing on the landings below us that lead to the ground floor. My heart is pounding in my chest knowing we are inside without a real avenue of escape in case things go sour. The place is large and we can find places to hide if we’re found and manage to elude any pursuers for a moment if need be. I’m also hoping Jim’s card is functional. We’ll need it to get through the security doors which must abound in this place.

Reaching the ground floor, another steel door, with a small wire mesh window set into it, exits into a wide hall. The door is flush with the jamb so I can’t use the fiber scope but the hall is dark which suggests that no one is using it. I lift on the bar latch to ease the weight on the hinges and open it slowly. Quickly peeking into the hall stretching in the distance to both sides, I don’t see anyone. We step in. Hallways branch off to the sides at intervals and our plan is to keep heading in an easterly direction to find the covered walkway to the east wing.

We slink down the hall to our left staying against the walls. At the first corner, I hold my signal mirror out looking down the cross hallway. It appears empty and we turn the corner quickly. We proceed slowly making sure to lift our feet in order to not squeak our boots against the linoleum-tiled floor. I keep my M-4 focused down the hall, my laser making a straight line to another T-intersection in the distance. Thick, wooden doors open off the hall at intervals. I test the first one and find it locked without a card swipe associated with it. There aren’t any card swipe doors along the entire length. Greg is keeping a watch behind us as we creep toward the next hall.

I check each door along the length finding one that opens with my turning the knob. Approaching the intersection, I hear footsteps and voices. I can’t make out what they are saying as it’s more of a murmuring. The footsteps are growing louder and definitely approaching from the side.

“Company coming from the left hall,” I whisper into the radio.

“How many?” Greg asks whispering.

“Not sure. More than one,” I answer.

“Plan?” He asks.

I’m not sure. I don’t know how many there are but it doesn’t have the sound quality to be many. We could dart into the open room and let them pass. Whether they will continue down the hall they’re on or turn into ours is anyone’s guess. If we let them pass and take the hall they came from, which is the direction I was planning according to the diagrams Jim gave us, then we’ll have people behind us. That’s not a good situation but if they are expected somewhere or are in radio contact and they don’t show up or answer, that’s not good either. The beam of a flashlight appears in the cross hallway from the left, its round spot bouncing on the ground as the holder of said light walks in our direction.

“Into the room and we’ll see,” I say. We open the door quietly and step into the darkened room that is lit only by the green glow of our goggles.

“How in the hell did you know they were coming? I didn’t see the light until just before we ducked in and I certainly didn’t hear anything,” Greg asks.

“I ate my Lucky Charms this morning,” I answer. People are going to guess something’s amiss if I keep giving hints like that out. Perhaps it’s just time I told them but I want to tell and talk it over with Lynn first.

A flash of light appears at the bottom of the door. It seems only the steel doors are flush with the floors. I fish the fiber optic cam out and slide the end under the door. To the right, I only see the bright spot of a flashlight in the hall heading our direction. I can’t see anything behind it so I still don’t know how many are heading out way. I slowly but quickly withdraw the camera end. I don’t want the light to pick it up as they approach. Greg and I crouch a few feet from the door training our weapons on it.

Boots striking the hard floor near and we hear the vestiges of a conversation taking place. The light under the door grows in intensity, fading and growing bright in intervals as the light swings in the hall. I control my breathing focusing on the door waiting for it to open. I don’t think they discovered us or there would have been an excited shout or tone to their voice but you never know. If they pass by, they will definitely be behind us as we make our way to the wing and therefore could show up at the most inopportune time. I’ve edged my way through guards before but it was never a comfortable feeling. It’s a very good thing no one has invented an adrenaline meter as yet or I would have been found out every time. And would now.

The light fades from underneath the door but the sounds come abreast of it. A peal of laughter rings out and the footsteps begin to fade. I would like to know how many are going to possibly be behind us. I sneak the cam under the door again and look to the left. Three people fill the hall walking away side by side with the beam of a single flashlight stretching into the hall ahead of them. Their purpose for being there is unclear but it’s not dissimilar from a patrolling guard. What they would be guarding against remains a mystery. The hall to the right is clear.

I hold up three fingers. If we take them out, they’ll certainly be missed. Again, I’m not too keen on them behind us but the risk of them being missed is too great. We’ll let them pass. I watch until they turn a corner at the next intersection and disappear from sight. I open up quickly to determine if I can sense any night runners. I doubt I’ll pick up anything with the people walking the halls but want to check anyway. I don’t sense anything.

I pull the camera cable back in and stow it. We open the door quietly, slip into the hall, and move toward the intersection the others came from. It’s still dark in this section of the building. Checking the corner again, Greg and I move to the left. We turn down a few more hallways with a multitude of doors opening off to the sides. A corridor branches off to the right of one with a placard on the wall reading “B Wing.” That’s the one we want. A set of swinging double doors opens to a room to the left. I peek in the window set in one of the doors before checking the hall. The doors open to a large room filled with wheeled laundry baskets.

I slink to the corner and look down the hall. A faint amount of light spills into the corridor through a small window set into steel door blocking the hall about forty feet down. A man sits in a plastic chair near the door; the man and chair leaning against the wall with only two legs of the chair touching the floor. There’s no way through the door without being seen and the only way to the wing is through the door. I almost wish we had taken the other guards out now but that is still probably for the better.

“One person sitting by the door forty feet down. No way around,” I whisper to Greg. He nods knowing what we have to do.

We are still in the dark so won’t be seen if we enter the hall as the small amount of light doesn’t filter this far down. Greg keeps an eye behind as I edge around the corner and bring my M-4 to bear. It will make some sound but won’t carry far with all of the twists and turns of the halls. I put the crosshair on his head seeing the laser pinpoint a place just below my aim point. I had set my aim point for 100 yards so the sight and laser are just a touch off at this distance. Not much and certainly not enough to miss.

I touch my selector switch with my thumb verifying I’m on semi and squeeze the trigger. The corridor lights up with a single flash along with the muted sound of a suppressed gunshot. It lasts only a split second as the round streaks down the hall. The man jerks to the side as the bullet strikes the side of his head with great force. Blood sprays against the hall and door. The man slams against the wall next to the door and falls to the ground toppling off the chair. The chair itself scoots across the floor as it too tumbles to the ground. Silence fills the hall once again.

Greg covers our rear as I walk toward the body alternating my barrel between the door and the man on the ground. Neither moves. I search the body looking for both a radio and key card finding only a card. I pocket the card, pick him up, and throw him over my shoulder thankful he has a small build. I don’t want to drag the body down the hall as it would make too much noise, be slower, and leave a mark. I’m also thankful he hasn’t let go as there is no way I would throw that on my shoulder. I walk back and go through one of the swinging doors setting the body in one of the laundry baskets. I cover the body with some towels and clothing grabbing a few of the towels to clean up the mess by the door. I won’t be able to clean it entirely but will at least not make it readily apparent what happened. I even set the chair back upright.

With the mess cleared and towels thrown away, we hold at the door. A long hall stretches on the other side ending at another similar door. Only every third light is lit casting a gloom in the hall. There are patches of darkness between the faint glows reaching the floor from above. If someone does look through the far door while we are transiting the patches of light, we’ll be seen. I only hope that, if there is someone guarding the far door, they are as vigilant as the one here, meaning not at all. A key card reader sits against the wall on both sides of our door.

“Well, here goes nothing,” I say using the key card I just picked up.

I see a light flash green from the reader and hear a click of the magnetic door latch releasing. Just for grins, I test the card Jim gave us with the same result. I hand Greg one of the cards. Opening the door, we step quickly into the hall.

“I’ll head to the end and watch through the door on the far side. You keep an eye out here. I’ll call you down when it’s clear,” I whisper.

“Roger that,” Greg replies.

I creep through the dark areas and scamper through the lit ones watching the far door, fully expecting it to open at any minute. I’m also dreading the appearance of the other three behind us. If they are patrolling, it won’t take them long to get back. I almost change my mind and backtrack to take them out but we’re this far and I decide to push on. I wonder what they’ll do when they come to the guard station and he’s not there. Hopefully assume he has gone to the bathroom, I think also hoping they have their own key cards and don’t have to wait for him.

Reaching the far door, I hold the mirror up to a corner. I don’t want to look directly in as my silhouette will block the light, even though it’s only a faint light, and will certainly get someone’s attention if they are close. I see the legs of another guard in a position similar to the last one. This will have to be quick, I think. I don’t see anything other than another few feet of hall that ends in a “T” intersection. Two sets of steel double doors are set against the far wall with light emanating from the wire mesh windows set into them. Another steel door opens to the left just before the intersection. Other than the one guard, the area is clear. I’m hoping the guard will think it’s others returning and react slowly.

“One guard. I’m going in,” I tell Greg in a whisper.

“Copy that. All clear here,” he responds.

I shoulder my M-4 and take out my suppressed 9mm. Swiping the card and hearing the tell-tale click, I open the door and swing immediately to my left. The guard is just beginning to lean forward. A strobe of light brightens his face which barely has enough time to register shock. A spray of blood, brain, and chunks of skin with the hair attached splashes against the wall behind him. His head rocks backward and slams against the wall with a sickening thud. The muted sound of the shot hasn’t left the confines of the concrete hall as I reach out and grab his shirt, preventing him from falling to the ground or slipping out of the chair causing additional noise. I ease him off the chair and onto the floor covering the rest of the hall and intersection. Nothing moves or responds.

“All clear,” I call to Greg.

I cover the intersection while Greg covers the distance down the hall still covering our rear. We join up and ease the door closed.

“What’s that lead to?” Greg asks quietly pointing to the security door in the wall to our left.

“Got me but we have to find a place for our friend to sleep it off,” I answer edging forward.

The hall is dark but the room beyond the double doors a few feet away is lit and is obviously being used. I hear a murmuring of some sort even through the thick doors. All it takes is for those doors to swing open and the best we can do is wave politely as we will be directly in view. Stairs are behind the immediate door to the left. I swipe my card and pull the door open, wedging my foot against it to hold it while still covering the double doors. Greg drags the body by the shoulders to minimize a bloody streak across the floor that dragging by the ankles would cause. We deposit the body on the stairs. I undo the man’s shirt and clean up the area as best and quickly as I can.

“Shall we?” I ask pointing to the stairs.

He shrugs and answers, “Why not.”

Unslinging my M-4, I check the man for a radio and, not finding one, start up the steps as Greg eases the door closed behind. I’m glad to be out of the line of sight of the double doors. It is apparent something is happening beyond them. I’m half way up the stairs, full of adrenaline, when I start having a very bad feeling. The guards we let pass by are weighing on my mind. If there is anything I’ve learned in the past, it’s to listen to that little voice in my head. I was thankful every time I heeded it and the few times I ignored it, it ended, well, let’s just say it could have ended better. I stop on the stairs and turn to Greg.

“What’s up?” He whispers just a couple of steps below me.

“Just a funny feeling. Those three others keep entering my thoughts and not in a good way,” I say.

“What do you want to do?” Greg asks.

“I think we should clear our back side,” I answer. Greg nods knowing what I mean.

“Are we going hunting?”

“No, I think we should wait for them to come to us,” I say. “I’m thinking in that hallway we just came through.”

“Well, let’s do it then,” he says turning around.

We ease the door open checking to see if it’s clear. The dimly lit hall between the two security doors is clear as well. The light turns green and we ease back in the hall. It’s dark by the near door and we settle into the corners. We are out of the way of the door should anyone enter from our side. The green glow of the hall alternates in shades of lighter and darker greens where the light patterns differ. In our darkened corners, we wait with our thin beams of light reaching across the expanse and converging on the far doors. Time passes seemingly taking forever and I start thinking that perhaps I was wrong but the feeling still remains.

“Are you sure about this?” Greg asks after a while passes.

“No, not really but I still have the same feeling and…” I begin to say and pause as I see the far door swing open.

Three people step into the hall with the last one holding the door open. The other two pause not having the faintest clue that they have lasers, which can only be seen through our NVG’s, painting their chests. The third man hollers back through the door he’s holding open, “Tim, you lazy ass, we’re heading back.”

He shakes his head and closes the door. I’m not sure how they could have missed a blood smear or two but perhaps they didn’t look very hard. Most likely they only noticed their buddy was gone and assumed it was by his own volition. They start down the hall toward us with their rifles carried casually.

“You have the left, I’ll take the right. We both have the lummox in back. Wait for my call,” I say.

Our VOX allows us to talk without pressing the mic button and therefore doesn’t require any movement. The third person is partially hidden behind his buddies and us both taking the shot subsequently will increase the chances he will go down quickly after. It really depends on how the bodies of the two in front fall. I know we’re pretty well hidden but the one in front does have a flashlight, which he is holding haphazardly, and the beam is shining only a little ways in front of the group. They don’t really need it in the hall so he isn’t using it to light their way. If he does bring it up, we’ll be right in its path.

They walk on having snippets of conversation between them. Their boots striking the floor echoes off the concrete walls of the corridor. I feel my heart but control my breathing keeping my sight directly on the center of the man on the right’s chest. Greg’s beam holds steady. They have no idea what they are strolling toward. The flashlight beam begins to rise toward the door between Greg and me.

“Now,” I whisper putting tension on the trigger.

Two muffled barks join the echo of the steps in the hall. Our darkened corner erupts with two simultaneous flashes of light. Two sub-sonic rounds fly out from the once dark corners and converge quickly with their intended targets. The bullets enter each man’s chest and rip into the softer interior of their chest cavities, tearing through tissue and destroying veins and arteries. The pulverized rounds exit from different locations in their backs creating large exit wounds through which blood and pieces of organs spew outward. Each man is launched backward with a grunt and hits the ground with a thud. The flashlight spins upward in the air turning end over end. The third man looks at the man on his left, who was suddenly launched behind him to the ground, with a ‘What the fuck’ expression. He begins to turn to the other one when his head absorbs two rounds that sped outward shortly after the first two began their journey.

His face disappears behind a mist of blood. The two rounds do their extensive damage completely removing the back and side of his head. Blood, tissue, and bone shower the air behind him. He stands for a moment with his body disbelieving the fact that it is already dead and falls to the side. I am immediately on my feet rushing toward the downed bodies.

“You have the door. I’ve got these,” I say walking quickly toward the downed men with the barrel of my M-4 shifting minutely covering each of them.

One man on the left groans and attempts to roll over. I fire into his slightly raised head splattering the insides of it across the once clean floor. The spray makes a long pattern of a red, chunky mass across the linoleum. He immediately stops moving.

“Door’s clear,” Greg whispers.

The familiar smell of someone, or all of them, letting loose fills the hall by the bodies mingling with the iron smell of a vast amount of spilt blood. Death hangs over the area. Pools of blood surround the bodies along with red splash patterns on the walls. In all, it’s a mess. There’s no way to clean this up but I feel more of a calm settle knowing our back side is clear. I quickly check each of them for a radio and don’t find one. At least no one will be expecting a call or a response from them. I just really hope these people were actually doing wrong and we didn’t just take out five people just trying to survive, I think looking down at the bodies that were having a conversation just minutes ago.

I’ve done some things in the past I’m not terribly proud of and those moments haunt me from time to time. I don’t tell my stories, especially to my kids, because I’m trying to hide something from anyone. I don’t tell them because I’d rather not remember them myself. There was a lot we did right, but there were some that, looking back, perhaps wasn’t so right. I really wish I could look back and think every mission and everything we did was with us wearing a halo and unfurling our golden wings but that just isn’t true. Some were people who were just trying to do their job and get through another day. They were just at the wrong place at the wrong time and all because we wanted pieces of paper or information. Most of them were really scumbags though. I really hope that’s the case here.

I shake my head pulling back into myself. My game face, while never really leaving, returns. We have a long ways to go and the night has just begun. I begin dragging the bodies one by one toward the far door leaving wide streaks and swaths of blood and gore. Sweating, I load the last body into a laundry basket. There is no way to clean the hall effectively so I leave the streaks and puddles and rejoin Greg.

“Fuck, I’m already tired,” I say.

“Getting old are you?” Greg says with a smile.

“I’ll answer yes if that will make you carry me,” I answer.

He looks me up and down, “I don’t know if I could. You look like you’ve been eating everything that isn’t nailed down.”

“I don’t even have a good comeback to that so I’ll just resort to the old standby. Fuck off,” I say. I hear his chuckle as we swiftly and quietly make our way through the door and to the stairs once again.

“Elderly first,” he says holding the door to the stairs. I slap my ass implying he should kneel down and kiss it.

We step over the body and make our way up the stairs. A top landing leads to a short hall to the right with another security door at the end. Light shines through the small wire mesh window; dim, but brighter than the hall. I edge up to the window and peer through. The door leads to a small control room of some sort which overlooks a large area, and I mean a large area. The small room itself is dark with light coming from the large room. Swiping the key card, the door opens with a metallic click. Opening the door, a sudden loud voice comes from the room below. I freeze.

The voice continues as if orating and not a shout of discovery. I can’t make out the words from here, just that it is talking loudly. I ease into the room in a crouch with Greg right behind easing the door closed. A console of some sort occupies the room away from the door and large windows, again wire mesh, look out. Each side of the room has a door leading to a catwalk that surrounds the entire room below. Other small rooms, like the one we’re in, are situated on each wall with the catwalk connecting each one. The room below isn’t brightly lit but it is well enough to see by. We lift our NVG’s and peek over the edge of the console.

Below us, the room is absolutely vast complete with a jogging track, basketball courts, a place for weights and tables. It looks like this is the prisoners “outside” yard. In the middle of the vast room, a man stands on wooden boxes addressing a large group of about thirty men, the majority armed with AR-15-style weapons. Another group of about ten stands behind the man holding their weapons. While not at the ready, they aren’t relaxed either.

The one thing that catches my attention is another man being held between two others in from of the man orating. The held man has his head hanging down and it appears he is being held upright by the two men at his side. Another man stands in front of the one being held staring up at the orator. All in all it doesn’t look like anything pretty is happening down there.

“Shall we hear what he has to say?” I ask nodding toward one of the doors.

“My curiosity is peaked,” Greg answers.

I open the door that is on the other side of the group of people below us. Luckily the door opens inward or it would be easy for the movement to catch the eye of the man on the makeshift podium and those behind him. Lowering ourselves to the ground, Greg and I crawl side by side onto the catwalk, holding the door open with our legs. The man’s voice takes on actual words.

“…you standing here are the chosen ones. You are pure because you answered the call and joined right away. Only you, therefore, are clean and pure. The others must be cleansed and purified. God has spoken to me. I know my destiny and act as his obedient servant. The time of the cleansing is upon us,” he shouts across the crowd raising his arms. Lying on the grating of the catwalk, Greg and I look at each other with raised eyebrows.

“You only need to look at the others who run in the night to know this for truth. They fear the light of the day and God’s wrath. They have been cursed and their uncleanliness shown. The world was long coming to this moment and it’s up to us to keep the faith and clean the world of its impurities. God has set each of us here for this task. I will lead you to the true heaven on earth,” he continues. There is general cheering from the crowd.

“I count twenty-eight in the crowd, ten behind the man, and three around the man in front plus him,” Greg whispers.

“That’s what I have,” I respond. “And not one is female.”

“But, brothers, we also have unclean ones who walk in the day. They are no less cursed than the ones who roam the night. God called you here at the beginning so we can tell the clean from the cursed. Do you repent and seek to be purified?” The orating man shouts and points a finger at the one being held in front of him.

The man doesn’t answer but continues to hold his head down. The man on the podium nods to the one in front of the held man. I hear the sound of his fist connecting with a cheek from up here. The held man’s head rocks and he slumps even further

“You will be purified regardless but to truly be clean, you must submit,” the man on the boxes says but this time without shouting.

There is movement to the side of the group and a woman is brought forward held between two other men. Seeing the bloodied man, she wails. She begins to thrash trying to shake off the hands holding her but it does no good.

“To submit and be clean, you must willingly turn your wife over to us,” the speaker says pointing to the woman being held.

The man raises his head for the first time. New and old blood mingles on his face from his nose and mouth. One eye is nearly shut. He looks out to the crowd and then over to his wife, angling his head to see through his good eye. The woman screams again.

“Never,” the man says. The word coming out of the man’s bloodied and swollen mouth is slurred but very clear.

“We’ll take her anyway but this is for your own soul. Submit and be cleansed,” the speaking man shouts. The others in the crowd are watching this unfold with an eager intensity. Any worried feelings I had about taking the others down quickly vanish.

“Chris. Do it. Pleeeeeease,” the woman implores. The man shakes his head and looks back to the ground at his feet.

The speaking man nods again and the bloodied man’s shirt is cut from his back. Reaching beside the boxes, the one who belted him before retrieves a whip.

“This is all kinds of fucked up,” Greg states.

“Yeah, you have that right,” I reply watching the scene below.

My mind is furiously working on scenarios to take care of things before they get uglier but I have yet to come up with something that will be effective. There are over forty armed men below us and two of us. If the men were separated or we could get at them in smaller groups, then there are a hundred things we could do. Greg and I have two grenades apiece and four grenades would pretty much clear the room seeing they are gathered but that would also mean the man and woman would be taken out so the point becomes rather moot.

“That man deserves to be saved,” Greg says. “As does the woman.”

“I know,” I reply.

“What’s the plan? What are we going to do?” Greg asks.

“Nothing,” I reply with a sigh.

I hate saying those words. A feeling of hopelessness sinks inside me knowing there isn’t much we can do right now. But that doesn’t mean we won’t be doing anything. My jaw clenches and I feel my teeth grind. I would like nothing more right now than to wrap my hands around the jerk spilling hot air from the boxes. Make it slow.

“We’re just going to let this happen?” Greg asks incredulously.

I look Greg directly in the eye. “Yes, we are. I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit but that’s what we’re going to do. If we do something now we’ll either take out those two in the process or we’ll go down which won’t help anyone.”

Greg holds my eye for a moment. I sense a deep anger within him that matches my own. He releases the air held in his lungs with a deep sigh. “You’re right. I’ve been wracking my brains and can’t come up with anything that doesn’t include going Rambo and those two not making it through. But those fuckers are going to pay.”

“That they are and we’re carrying their bill,” I reply.

Greg is not someone I would not want to mess with. With his large, muscular frame, he looks like he could rip your arms out of their sockets without much effort. His dark eyes, mimicking his dark skin, narrow and he nods before turning back to the room below.

The snap of a whip and the man’s scream echoes for what seems an eternity. Just below the threshold of the man’s scream comes the woman’s. She is begging the man to stop. Which man she is yelling at is left to guess. She’s just screaming, “Stop. Please stop.” It makes me sick inside but I feel a cold determination settle. The man’s scream falls silent.

“I’ll submit. I submit. Just please stop,” the woman cries out through her tears.

“You’ll submit alright,” the speaking man says with a smirk. I hear a few chuckles from the larger group. The men behind the one speaking eye the crowd with narrowed eyes. They must be his bodyguards or something. They appear to be looking for any dissension within the crowd.

The whip flies through the air again and snaps against the man’s back. There is no resulting scream this time except from the woman. The man’s legs give out and his body slumps further. The two holding him are now supporting his entire weight. They lower him to the floor with the woman wailing non-stop. She thrashes against those holding her wanting to reach her husband.

“Take him back to his room. You may share the woman,” the preacher says stepping off the boxes and walks across the room to a door to our left.

The entourage of ten men follows in his wake. Two men pick up the man lying on the floor and drag him in the opposite direction. They carry him through a door at the far end. The woman is dragged screaming and thrashing through the side doors the preacher exited. The crowd breaks up and heads into those same doors. The room empties and falls silent. The only evidence that anything took place is small patches of red on the waxed wooden floor where the man was held.

“Again, I say that was majorly fucked up. This place is all kinds of fucked up,” Greg whispers through clenched teeth.

“Agreed. Let’s go get those people out of here,” I say.

“What are you thinking?” Greg asks as we continue lying on the grating looking out over the now empty room.

“Well, they dragged that poor soul through those doors taking him back to his room,” I say nodding at the doors to the right. “The others left through the ones on the left so I’m guessing they keep their rooms separate from the prisoners.”

“Yeah, I noticed that as well. That is with the exception of that woman,” Greg comments.

“So we get those we can to a safe place and see,” I say.

The two men who dragged the either dead or unconscious man emerge from the doors and cross the room. They are casually carrying their carbines and their murmured conversation drifts upward from the room. They disappear through the left hand doors.

“Shall we,” I say after they leave the room below in silence once again.

“Lead on,” Greg replies.

We crawl backward, close the door, and don our goggles. Stepping over the body once again on our way down the stairs, we emerge into the hall. At the double steel doors leading into the humongous room, the hallway branches left and right. We silently step to the corner and peer around. Another security door sits twenty feet down the hall to the right. A similar door sits in the hall on the other side. I move down the hall to the right with Greg keeping an eye on the door behind. A darkened hall stretches away before arcing to the left and vanishing out of sight.

I swipe the card to open the door and we are swiftly through. The corridor is empty without any doors leading off. We creep quietly down the pitch black stretch, seen only in a green glow. We follow the arc around to where it ends with another security door. Light shines through the inset window. I’m not worried about cameras in the darkened areas of the building. They have to be up and running in the lit areas as part of the security system though. Whether they are being watched is something altogether different. The one good and bad thing about having thick walls and so many security doors is sound doesn’t carry far.

At the door, I look quickly inside. I can’t see much due to the restrictive nature of the small window but it appears to be another hall. This must be the hall between the wing buildings and where they dragged the poor bastard. The actual building with the cells, radiating outward like tentacles, must be to the right. If the prisoners are being held there, then I assume there are also guards with them. Even though the cell doors, where I again assume they are being held, must be locked, they would also post guards. That only makes sense.

The images of the scene in the large room flash through my mind. I feel a deep, cold anger settle. I cannot fathom the reason people can be so cruel when the rules are lifted. Vengeance is mine saith the Lord, the line trickles through my head. Not today. Today it walks on two legs and will be delivered by a messenger of steel, I think nodding at Greg as we get ready to enter the lit hall.

I ease the door open after hearing the click and seeing the green light. Peeking quickly in both directions with the mirror, I withdraw it and ease the door closed.

“Hallway with a security door at either end. There’s a camera mounted above the door on the right. We’ll have to move fast. There is most likely a small room with other security doors that allow only one to be open at a time. There may be a security station set up off that room that overlooks a larger congregation area,” I say.

“How do you know that?” Greg asks.

“We had to study prison systems in detail as a lot of other types of secure buildings are set up in a similar fashion. A prison is one of the most secure facilities around. Well, there are those that are more secure, a lot more, but the premise is the same,” I answer.

“We’ll move quickly down the hall, have a swift look in the window to see what we see, open the door, and move inside. Once inside, we’re trapped until that door closes, assuming it is set up that way. You help it along its way. It may be pneumatic so there may not be much you can do. If shit happens, we move back here and into the main building to find a place to lay low,” I continue.

“I’m right behind you,” Greg comments. I would take out the lights with my suppressed 9mm but the lights are inset into the ceiling with wire mesh glass. They are designed to not be broken. I would also take out the camera but it is surrounded in a thick Plexiglas shield. Again, it’s designed not to be broken easily.

“Here’s to hoping fat, dumb, and happy is supposed to be watching the cameras,” I say swiping the card.

We are in the hall in a flash moving rapidly to the door on the right. Crouching and stealth are fairly moot at this point. I thought about just walking up nonchalantly like we were part of the group, but with a group this small, they would most likely know each other and the ruse wouldn’t work. I’ve actually done that in the past with some degree of success but there’s a time and place for it. This isn’t one of them.

My heart is racing along with my feet. We are now in the light and most likely being caught on camera. Speed is of the essence. The reaction will most likely be slow if we are seen on a monitor. Chances are the operator will go through a small moment of “What the fuck?” Trained ones will react instantly but these people are far from being trained. I would have worked a different tactic altogether if we were infiltrating a secure building with trained security. Back then, I also had different tools to work with. These are a bunch of Yahoos who think they own the world. They are lax in their security but it only takes one lapse on my part and even they will react.

I shoulder my M-4 and withdraw my handgun quickly peeking in the window while Greg crouches at the card swipe. It affirms what I envisioned from experience and from Jim’s descriptions. A small room with large wire mesh windows waits on the other side. Two security doors lead out of the room, one to the left and one to the right. The one to the left leads to a room that looks similar to the console room on the upper catwalks of the large room. I can’t see all of it from my angle. A large room filled with tables and chairs is beyond the small room on the other side of the door. Four stories of catwalks surround the room with security doors leading to the four wings that radiate out from this building to the actual cells. The room is dimly lit including the guard post to the left and I don’t spot any guards. Time is of the essence. I nod at Greg.

He swipes his card and I hear the now familiar metallic click of the magnetized locks releasing. I sweep the door outward only enough to crouch through and settle by the door to the left. Light from the hall fills the small room. The bottom of the window in the door leading to the guard post is above my head. I have my handgun pointed upward towards the window. The round won’t go through the glass but if someone opens the door, their life will be measured in nano-seconds. The light from the hall dims as the door swings slowly closed. My heart is pounding in my chest. I hate being exposed like this. My body tingles from the sheer volume of adrenaline pouring through it.

Time moves slowly and it seems like it is taking the door way too long to close. If someone is in the room, they surely would have seen us on the cameras and have noticed the increase in light. I lift my signal mirror to one corner of the window, exposing only enough of the mirror to see inside. A man is sitting inside with his feet propped up on one of the consoles and reading a book. He glances over at the window briefly before returning to his book. While I didn’t get my fat wish, I certainly received my wish for dumb and happy. A rifle leans against a counter nearby and a handgun is holstered at his side.

The door behind us clicks as the door shuts and the magnetic lock engages, shading the room in the dim light from the room. I watch as the man looks over to the door. He removes his feet from the console and sets his book down. Still looking at the window with a quizzical expression, he rises from his chair.

“Now,” I say nodding at the door swipe.

Greg runs the card through. The door clicks and I push inward with my shoulder; my hand still holding the mirror. I rise as I push sweeping my Beretta past the opening door. I stop as the barrel aligns with his face, which registers shock. I fire at almost point blank range. Blood flies out from his head as my round hits on the side of his nose shattering it and the sinus cavity which lies behind. My barrel aligns quickly again and I send a second round, on the heels of the first, into his already demolished face. The round penetrates just below the inside portion of his eye.

The back of his head explodes outward with pieces of flesh and brain coating the side window. He flies backward hitting the counter below the window and the ruined back of his head smacks against the glass. He slumps and rolls to the ground. The window is smeared with chunks which slowly slide downward; some of the larger pieces falling off to the counter. Blood streams down the glass in rivulets. The room fills with the smells of gunpowder and blood.

I crouch back down quickly looking around the room. Greg is squatting by the open door looking outward. Nothing moves. I move back into the small room and allow the door to close. We open the other door, wedging it to keep it that way, and enter the room proper. It has the appearance of where meals are taken and free time spent. A bank of phones line one of the walls. The doors leading to the upper wings are dark but light shines from two of the doors across from us on the ground floor. Makes sense they would keep them on the ground floor, I think.

Our lasers streak through the room as we search for any other guards. The room is empty. Walking around the perimeter, hidden in the shadows to a degree, Greg and I approach the first lit window. We passed by one darkened window but found it vacant. It could be that they are all empty but the odds are that the ones with the light are where the current prisoners are housed.

A look in each of the doors reveals a long hall with rows of solid steels doors to the left and right down its length. Each door has a very small window and the cinder block walls are painted a drab cream color. At the far end of each, a guard sits in a plastic chair against the wall, each one looking bored and not wanting to be there. One guard is leaning forward with his elbows on his knees staring at the ground while the other leans back with a book. Neither is being attentive to the door or those most likely behind the locked doors. Both have rifles leaning against the wall beside them.

I stand next to the wall adjacent to the opening of the door. Greg swipes and pulls the door outward on the click of the magnetic release, holding the door with his foot as he focuses on the other lit door. I step into the opening raising my M-4. The first guard lowers his book to look at who is intruding upon their moment. Centering the crosshair on his center mass, I pull the trigger twice feeling two light kicks against my shoulder. The two projectiles streak down the hall, the first tearing through the pages of the book before impacting his chest with a solid thump. The book is torn from his hands and flies through the air.

The second round arrives on the heels of the first smacking into his neck. The wall behind him turns red with a spray pattern of blood. The guard reaches up with his hand to his ruined throat and launches back in his chair. Jets of blood arc into the air through his fingers with the rhythm of his heart. He slams against the wall, knocking his gun to the ground with a clatter, spins to the side, and falls off his chair hitting the floor. Continuing to grasp his neck with both hands, his feet kick out repeatedly before slowing to an occasional twitch. One last twitch and they become still.

I race up the hall keeping him covered. A large red puddle forms on the floor beneath his head. I reach the body and kick the rifle away. It skitters across the floor leaving a streak of red behind. The guard’s eyes stare blankly at the ceiling above, any life they might have once had is gone and they’re glazed over.

The sound of the shots barely echoed down the hall. The solid doors must have kept even the muted gunshots from entering as there are no faces peering out of the windows. I look quickly in each on my way back out finding men lying on double bunks in several of the rooms. I reach Greg’s position aware of our need to be swift. Anyone could come through the entrance at any time or see us through the window if they drew near. They can’t get in with the door wedged but they certainly can raise the alarm. I don’t know the guard’s rotation so we need to make this fast.

Greg closes the door and we creep to the second door. In the same positions as before, Greg swiftly opens the door and I send two rounds down the hall once again. The guard looks up from his leaning position, his face registering surprise at a figure at the door aiming a carbine at him. His shocked look changes to one of pain as the bullets punch through his shirt, one just to the right of his sternum in the center of his chest and the other into the sternum itself. He is thrown upright and from his chair into the wall. He falls heavily to the floor scooting the chair across the floor away from him. The chair hits one of the security doors and topples over.

I hear a gurgling wheeze as I approach. His eyes seek mine and lock onto them as I reach and stand over him. Fear is written in his eyes as he tries to catch his breath. He knows he is dying. His eyes plead with mine for a second and then he looks away with resignation. His red plaid shirt puffs as I pump two more rounds into his chest which then falls inward. The wheeze of him struggling to breathe falls silent. I turn and see the face of a woman staring out of the small window of the door that the chair crashed into. I nod at the woman and head back to Greg. We rapidly check the remaining wings without seeing guards or lit rooms.

“There should be switches in the guard post that will open all of the doors,” I say as we finish with our checks. “I’ll unlock the doors if you’ll gather everyone.”

“Gotcha,” Greg says.

I head into the room, having to go through the musical door thing again. Checking on the hall leading to the other building on my way, I find it still clear of others. Within the room is a console and control panel for the doors. The console allows for each door to be opened individually, a wing at a time, or the entirety of the doors. I unlock the two wings that have the lit hallways radioing Greg that they are open. I then move to the small room to keep watch on the hall. I open and wedge the door again.

Greg appears in the room with men in tow and then heads into the second hall, returning shortly with women behind. I wave them over to my position noticing more than a few eyes wandering to the blood smeared window of the control room.

“I hid the bodies in cells,” Greg says as he comes to stand next me.

“Let’s drag this other one into a cell before we leave,” I say nodding toward the control room.

“Is this everyone?” I ask the group knowing there’s at least one women missing.

One of the women looks around at the others before speaking up. “There are four women missing. The guards take some of us at night,” she says.

“Fucking great,” I say quietly.

The man who was beaten just a short while ago is with the men. One of his eyes is swollen completely shut. He is shirtless and his face is smeared with dried blood as if he, or someone else, tried to clean him up.

“My wife,” he says; the words thick and slurred coming through broken, swollen lips. Tears run down his cheek as he thinks about what she must be going through.

“We’ll get her,” I reply nodding. “Anyone here know Allie McCafferty?”

An older gentleman, well, older being relative as he appears to be only slightly older than me, raises his hand. His eyes light up and his face is written with eagerness and anticipation.

“I have a daughter named Allie McCafferty, sir. Do you know if she’s okay? Is she with you?” He asks excitedly and looks around as if she’ll materialize somewhere.

“Assuming she’s your daughter, and the odds are that she is, she’s okay. She and others will be waiting for us outside come morning,” I answer.

Tears flow down his face. I want to ask about McCafferty’s mother but it’s not my place and time is not our friend. We need to get these people to safety and quickly.

With Greg standing at my side, I whisper, “We need to get these folks back to the laundry room and maybe further into the building before someone shows up. Possibly even back to the roof. I’ll lead, you keep the stragglers rounded up.”

I think about staying here as there is only one entrance and we can keep the door closed by keeping another open but there’s no other way out. If they come to check on the prisoners, like I’m sure they will at some point, they only have to wait us out at the other end. We’d eventually have to leave for food and water. In essence, we’d be trapped.

“It’ll be a little akin to herding cats but I’ll keep ‘em moving,” he replies.

“We may have to move them into the hallway in stages if they all won’t fit in the transition room,” I say to which Greg nods.

“Okay folks. We’re going to get you out of here to somewhere safer. I’ll be leading and Greg here will be behind you. Stay together and behind me. A lot of the route will be dark but keep moving as best you can unless I say different. Keep absolutely quiet. No talking,” I say.

“What about my wife?” The hurt man asks.

“And the others?” The woman who first spoke up asks immediately after.

“We’ll get them but we have to get you to safety first. You first, then them,” I answer.

“Please hurry,” the man says with desperation and fear in his voice.

“We will. You ready, Greg?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he answers. Greg and I move the body into an empty cell before returning to the group.

There are twenty-seven men and women not including Greg and me. It’s one of the tightest squeezes ever, so tight that several pregnancies may occur, but we manage to fit everyone inside. I swear the windows bulge outward and the oxygen is immediately consumed. The door closes with a click. We are so tight I am almost not able to raise my hand to swipe the card. I’m also hesitant to do so as we may spill into the hall once the door unlocks. Heck, I may fly down the hall from the pressure and impact the far door at close to Mach.

None of this happens as the door swings open. I head down the hall keeping an eye on the opposite door until we reach the door we entered through on the left. I enter with the others close on my heels in the hall. I can’t blame them for bunching up and pressing close as they can’t see well, if at all, in the inky blackness of the corridor. Greg notifies me over the radio when he enters behind the group. Reaching the security door and the end of the hall, I clear the area before opening it and dart quickly down the hall branching off to the left. I retrace our steps back into the longer hall. The group makes more noise than I’d like. They are trying to be quiet but it’s hard with a group of this size and they don’t really know how. To me, we sound like a herd of spooked water buffalo.

I hear several gasps behind me as we pass the floor covered with blood and clotted with chunks of flesh and tissue. There is a much defined iron odor of blood along with feces. A faint lingering odor of gunpowder lies just below the other overpowering smells. We pass through the door and into the laundry room without incident. I’m not sure how long we have until our intrusion and the missing prisoners are noticed.

“What do you think? Here or the roof?” I ask Greg once we are all in the room with the laundry baskets.

“The roof will be easier to defend I think,” Greg answers.

“Unless they have grenades or mortars,” Greg continues with a chuckle. “If they find us and come at us with grenades, then nowhere is really safe.”

“Alright. Take them to the roof and hole up there. I’ll join you shortly,” I say.

“And you’re going where?” Greg asks.

“Back. There’s a bill that needs delivering,” I answer.

“How come you get to have all of the fun while I babysit,” he says.

“Payback for all of the ‘running’ comments,” I reply with a shrug.

“Duly noted. See you shortly.”

Replacing the clip with a fresh one, I head back, entering the long hall and proceeding down its length. Keeping to the walls, I crouch through the dark shadows, scooting rapidly through the lit portions. My nerves are taut expecting a cry of discovery. Although we hid the bodies, the evidence of what transpired is readily visible. And there’s the fact that none of the prisoners are in their cells. It won’t take long for the alarm to be raised if someone ventures that way. If it is sounded, I’m going to have to give up rescuing the other women and head to the roof. We’ll be able to hold them off there for a good while with only one entrance.

I’m tired but filled with anxious energy. The adrenaline has been pumping into my system. While I was able to sustain that for long periods of time in the past, it now tires me quicker than it used to. I crouch at the far door after checking for all clear.

“Okay, Jack, let’s do this. This is a no-brainer,” I whisper psyching myself up. I raise my goggles at this point. There’s no one to see that they’re not in place and I see better peripherally with them off.

I open the door and slither through, easing the door closed behind me. Going to the left this time, I enter a door and hall exactly like the one on the other side. Reaching the door leading into the lit hall, I halt and think things over. The layout will be the same as on the other side but the guard situation will be different. They may have a guard posted in the control room or they may not. There isn’t really anything to secure on this side if they’re using this to bunk down in. There may not be anyone or there may be men all over the place. I assume they are free to move around as they choose so they could be meandering anywhere. I’m also thinking the cell doors are permanently left unlocked.

“Only one way to find out,” I whisper to myself again.

I unlock the door and whisk down the lit passageway against the near wall moving briskly to the door. I peer inside. The room is dimly lit like the other one. There are two differences; three of the doors leading to the wings on the ground floor are lit as is one high up on the fourth level. No one is within the large room. Now to see if anyone is in the control room.

I swipe the card and enter keeping low. As the door slowly closes, I bring the mirror to the window and observe the room empty. Luck is still with me. A click behind me tells me the entry door is closed and I open the one to the room, entering and pressing close in the shadows against the wall. I keep an eye on the lit windows searching for a tell-tale shadow that someone is approaching the door. My heart thuds in my chest. I am in the lion’s den.

If someone enters at this point, I’ll scurry back to the small room and hope the door closes before they can get to me. If I open the hall entryway and wedge it open, they won’t be able to open any of the doors to leave. I would take this as a sole option if I knew there weren’t others to be rescued somewhere inside this area. I smile thinking of them waking to find the door open and them not being able to get out. That would be worth putting a wireless camera on the wall and watching their actions.

Edging to the first lit door, I crouch by the entrance. I rise, about to glance in the window when the light dims causing my heart to skip a beat and pumps in a fresh supply of adrenaline. Someone is close to the other side. I cross low under the window to the hinge side and crouch a little more than a foot from the hinge. It wouldn’t do to be right behind the door if it opens as it could hit me. Being farther away allows the door to open wider before making contact.

The light in the window darkens further. Someone is drawing closer to the door. I’m hoping it isn’t a lot of them. Actually, I’m hoping no one comes through the door but if any do, a crowd of them is low on my wish list. I prop my M-4 against the wall next to me preferring to use my Beretta if anything happens close quarters.

The door begins to swing outward without the corresponding click of a mag lock being disengaged. They have somehow managed to unlock the cell doors. It stops and I see a head pass by the window. A man walks out into the room and the door begins its slow journey back. Only one man exits and he begins walking across the room carrying an AR-15-style carbine over his shoulder. If he turns for any reason, I’ll be in plain sight. I would let him go but for two reasons. I don’t want someone behind me but more importantly, he may be going to the other side. I am not in a good position for any alarm to be raised.

Tracking him with my 9mm, I pull my knife from the sheath strapped to my lower leg. The carbine shouldered at his back will interfere with a knife kill to that side so I keep the gun in my right hand and knife in my left. The door closes with a faint thud. I tense waiting for him to turn at the sound. There have been a few times I’ve come close to being caught by someone turning instinctively at an innocuous sound; even one they created. If he turns, I’ll have no choice but to fire even though it’s the louder option.

His head begins to turn. I tense; the sights of my handgun aimed firmly at his head. He turns back to the front without turning fully around and keeps walking. I relax and push away from the wall, check the window quickly to make sure it’s clear, and begin crouch-walking silently in his tracks. I close to just behind the man getting ready to rise and plunge my blade into his kidney.

“Dammit,” the man says almost under his breath and turns.

I swiftly rise as he turns jamming the end of my suppressor in the meaty portion under his chin and fire. The bullet crashes through the soft tissue of his mouth going through his tongue and into his upper palate. A section of his cranium explodes upward spewing part of the inside of his head into the air. The only noise is the sound of the slide racking back and sliding forward. The spent cartridge bounces across the floor a few times and comes to rest. The man crumples downward and I catch him under his arms before he can hit the ground. I drag him to the wall, deposit him in the shadows, wipe the end of my handgun on his shirt, and place my knife back in its sheath.

Returning to the door, I retrieve my M-4 and holster the 9mm. I would prefer to use my 9mm inside the rooms but the length of the hall and the chance of someone else emerging from a room dictates the use of something with a little more accuracy over a greater range. Plus, if the alarm is triggered and they come out enmasse, I’ll have an auto option. I clear the hall and slide inside. Peeking in the window of the first cell to my left, I see a man lying on a lower bunk with his hands behind his head staring straight up. He’s either lost in thought or asleep. I look in the window of the cell across the hall.

There, a man has his pants down and is bent over a naked woman kneeling at the side of a bunk. I have found one of the women. A sickness settles in my stomach and anger rises. I open the door just enough to slip inside. With the door only partially open and closing, the sound of my shots will be muffled even further. Both the man and the woman look my way. The woman is sobbing and whimpering. The man’s face registers first anger at being intruded upon and then shock as my carbine comes up.

My round enters the side of his head and exits the other coating the ruffled blankets and pillow in red. He crashes to the bunk beside the woman and slides to the floor. The young woman draws in a deep breath, ready to scream. I hold my fingers to my lips hoping to catch her scream in time. She bites off her scream and nods. Tears have made pathways down her face and her red eyes regard me. She exhales with a whimper; sniffing loudly once.

I double check that the man isn’t moving or emitting any noise. Holding my hands up and out to my side, not wanting to alarm the woman further, I take a step toward her. She hasn’t moved from her position and cowers into the bed.

“Ma’am, I’m not here to hurt you but I need you to get dressed and wait here until I return. I also need you to be very quiet. Can you do that?” I ask.

Her frightened, wide eyes continue to look at me fearfully but she nods. She looks over to the man on the floor and then begins searching the room for her clothes.

“Okay, good. Just be brave a moment longer and I’ll be back. I’ll get you out of here, I promise,” I say. She nods again and rises to her knees on the floor, covering her nakedness with her arms. She is sobbing quietly. I turn and exit the room heading across the hall.

The man is still resting with his hands behind his head and facing away from me. I ease the door open and slip inside. He turns his head toward the door and appears about to say something when my round slams into the top of his head. The bullet tears through his skull, the soft brain tissue, and then exits out of the lower part of his face, tearing his right jaw from its hinge. Blood sprays down the front of his shirt. His arms and leg twitch violently on the bed, becoming sporadic tremors and then he is still. His jaw lies at an angle to his head held on only by a portion of his cheek.

I head down the hall going room to room with similar scenes played out in each. The next wing plays out the same. I find one other woman and have her come with me after I clear the rooms. I take her to where the first woman is now sitting dressed and on the bunk with her arms around her drawn-up knees. She flinches as I enter but calms immediately when she sees me. Tears still run down her face. Both women are a wreck and rightfully so. I figure it will be better for them to be together. I tell them to stay put and the woman I just brought sits on the bunk and they wrap their arms around each other’s shoulders.

Replacing my mag, I clear the third wing in a similar manner. Apparently the men retired to their rooms for the night and aren’t wondering around. Most are asleep or close to it when I enter. Each and every one of them are now experiencing the first few moments of their afterlife. I find a third young woman, the wife of the man who was beaten, and bring her to the other two after having to spend some extra time calming her down. It took a few minutes to convince her I wasn’t one of the others.

I step out into the main room and look upward to the fourth floor where light shows from a door to one of the wings. There’s a fourth woman and I’m guessing she’s up there. I haven’t run across preacher man or any of his entourage yet so I’m guessing they are taking residence above.

This one may be a little trickier, I think looking upward. If they’re his personal body guard, they may be more alert. At least some of them will be. I feel tired and dirty. I know my face must look like a mess as I felt several splashes against it from some of the men, using the term loosely here, as I took them out. When I get home to Cabela’s, I’m taking the longest shower of my life. It will be measured in days.

I apprise Greg of my progress and my plan. Greg’s response is faint with the radios having to go through so many thick, concrete walls but I hear him acknowledge me. I think about taking the three women to him before heading to the fourth landing. If something happens to me, they will be left here and I won’t have helped them much. There’s still time before dawn approaches and the teams begin their journey down so I’m not as caught up with a time crunch as before. However, I’m here and the situation is pretty much under control although that could change in an instant.

“Well, there’s nothing to it but to get to it,” I say quietly to myself with a sigh and start for the first set of steel steps leading to the catwalks above.

Setting my boots carefully on each rung in order not to let my steps ring out, I cautiously climb to the first catwalk level and mount the stairs leading to the third level, and then the fourth. The door with the light shining through the small window is the second one down. I ensure the first wing is empty before crouching at the lit window.

Peering in, I see an empty hall like the others. Apparently preacher man feels secure with his bodyguards, assuming that’s what they are, only being close by. I open the door quietly and make my way down the room as on the lower levels; increasing hell’s count one soul at a time. I reach the last door and peek in. Sure enough, it’s the one who thinks he was called to purify the earth.

He is standing with a woman on her knees in front of him. He has a handful of hair and a gun to her head. I can’t go in like the other rooms. If I take him out, he could have a responsive twitch and shoot the woman. I swing the door open and step inside with my M-4 aimed at his head. The woman turns her head to glance at me and preacher man whips his around.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asks angrily.

“I’m the last person you want standing in this room with you,” I answer.

“Put that gun away or I’ll call my guards,” he says not releasing the woman or moving the gun from her head.

“You mean the ones who are soaking the bed sheets with their blood,” I say.

“You’ll never make it past the others,” he says; his eyes widening a touch with fear.

“This is just not your day for being right, is it?” I say. His eyes widen further.

“Stay back or I’ll shoot her,” he says thrusting the gun harder against the woman’s head.

“Go ahead. She means nothing to me. It’s you that I’ve come for,” I reply. “But I tell you what. You have two doors to choose from. One, you can shoot her and I shoot you, or two, you can release her and I let you go. A life for a life either way. You choose.”

The door closes. His eyes dart around the room fearfully, as if a way out will appear, before coming back to rest on the end of my suppressor only a few feet away and pointing unwaveringly at his head.

“If I let her go, you’ll let me go?” He asks.

“Yep,” I answer.

“Okay, I choose door number two,” he says.

“That’s the one I’d pick,” I say.

He releases the hold on her hair and removes the gun from her head. The woman scrambles to her feet and backs away from him wrapping her arms around her body.

“Ma’am, go into the hall and wait for me there,” I say. With a look at the man and then at me, she scurries past me and out of the door.

“Nice and slow, set it on the ground,” I say nodding at the gun he is holding at his side. I track his every move waiting for any quick movements as he kneels slowly and sets it on the floor. He then stands back up.

“Are you clean and pure?” I ask. A confused look crosses his face.

“Yes, I am,” he answers with a quivering voice.

“Good. Then that’ll make your transition easier,” I say. The confused look continues. His eyes then widen as he catches my meaning.

“But you said…” he stammers backing up.

“I lied,” I respond.

The bright flash highlights his open-mouthed fear as if caught with a camera. Part of his brain, which once held his very confused and warped thoughts, splatters on the concrete wall; his life-giving blood streaking down to the floor. The muffled gunshot lifts him from his feet and slams him into the sink against the wall. He falls to the side slumping over the steel toilet. Fitting end, I think gathering up the woman’s clothing and leave the room.

The woman is squatting in the far corner by the door with her arms wrapped around her; her body shaking. “Is… Is he?” She asks with a trembling voice. I nod setting her clothes on the floor beside her.

“Good,” she spits. “All of them?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I reply turning around so she can get dressed and to keep an eye on the far door.

She finishes quickly and we head down the stairs to the other women. There could still be others patrolling that we missed so I remain alert. Gathering the women, we start back through the building with me clearing the route and them behind me. One of the women still occasionally sobs but we make it to the roof stairs without encountering anyone. I let Greg know we are coming up and we trudge upward stepping out onto the roof. I take a deep breath in anticipation of feeling the refreshment of the chill night air. I do get my breath of fresh air but forgot about the dead cattle in the distance. The air that rushes into my mouth and nose is tainted with the undertone of thousands of dead, rotting carcasses. It’s only a little better than the stifling and stale air inside. The ambience of the building is thick with the horrors of what went on inside.

The sky is clear and the moon casts light downward making for good visibility. The wife of the man looks around the group huddled together on the flat roof. With a cry of discovery, she runs to where her husband sits. He stands and they embrace. He flinches with her tight hug from his injuries but folds his arms around her.

“You made it,” Greg says as I move over to him. “Does that mean the bill has been delivered?”

“Paid in full,” I answer.

“Good. You look like a mess,” he says eying my face.

“I feel like a mess,” I say. There is the release of tension in finishing what we came to do. The adrenaline ebbs and an overwhelming tiredness replaces it. “I’m going to lie down and rest. Keep an eye on the door.”

“Will do,” he replies. We are interrupted a few times by the men and women coming over to thank us.

“Thank us later, we’re not out of here yet,” I reply a couple of times. A shriek sounds out from far away, like the faint howl of a coyote on a still summer night; almost forlorn. I feel adrenaline try to enter into my already tired system but exhaustion has set in. All heads turn toward the distant sound. We all know what that sound is and it strikes dread in all of us, especially as we are all outside.

“Perhaps we should go inside,” I say to Greg.

“Might not be a bad idea although I kinda like it out here,” he replies.

“Yeah, me too but that could change in a hurry,” I say.

I really don’t want to move again but I’m sure our scent is being carried on the night air. We are still a few hours away from dawn and not out of danger yet. Greg and I gather everyone up and head inside. There are a lot of bumps and some curses as the others shuffle and grope in the dark. We find a large room close to the bottom of the stairs and hole up for the night.