Jakarta Pandemic, The (56 page)

He flipped the safety off with his thumb and pulled the slide handle back again, ejecting an unfired round into the snow. He released the handle and recharged the rifle chamber, making sure that the cold had not locked up the weapon’s action. He had done this once every half-hour since arriving at the play set. He grabbed the night vision scope and located the three targets at the closest edge of the Hayes’ house. He could see that they were struggling with the storm, and also that they were all clearly underdressed for the conditions.

Fuck, this is moving too fast.

He tossed the night vision scope aside, searching frantically through the rifle scope. Beyond the red dot, he located the corner of the Hayes’ house. The image was dark and washed out by snow, but he quickly picked out his three targets contrasted from the surroundings. He shifted the red dot to what he perceived as the last in the line of targets.

They have to be moving across the gap.

He heard an excited voice from his radio.

“Alex, they’re almost halfway across. Moving slow. I have the lead guy in my sights.”

Fire, Charlie, fire! We could get two right off. Come on, Charlie. Kate must be out of her mind listening to this.

Alex watched the dark masses move slowly across the gap. For the first time, he noticed that all three of them were armed with some type of long guns.

Goddamn it, Charlie!

He added pressure to the trigger.

Can’t wait. Here we go.

He saw his target stop and turn, as the sharp echo of Charlie’s first shot reached his ears. He sighted in again, squeezing the trigger twice, keeping the red dot on the target for each shot. The rifle kicked and settled in his shoulder.

He sighted in again on what he thought was the same dark shadow, firing six rounds in rapid, but controlled succession.

I have no idea if I’m hitting anything.

He saw a few flashes through the scope and heard something hit the play set. He sighted in on the corner of the Coopers’ house, where he saw another moving shadow, and fired another six rounds. He heard gunshots and saw more flashes from the area between the two houses.

All right, I have no idea what’s going on!

He picked up the night vision scope and checked out the scene, seeing that two men were clearly still in the fight. A man stood exposed to Alex at the corner of the Coopers’ house, aiming a shotgun in the direction of Charlie’s house. Another was on his knees at the corner of the Hayes’ house, slumped against the siding, attempting to reload his weapon while staying propped up against the house.

Through Alex’s scope, he saw that the man was doing neither task well.

I’ll take care of this one.

Just as Alex had formulated that thought, he saw the man’s head snap back violently against the side of the house. The figure slumped lifelessly to the ground, revealing a dark stain on the siding.

Jesus!

He switched back to the rifle scope and tried to sight in on the target near the corner of the Coopers’ house. The man disappeared between the houses before he could pull the trigger. He swiftly switched rifle magazines, keeping the sight of the scope on the corner of the house.

The walkie in his jacket buzzed.

“Alex, last one coming at my…”

He heard a sharp crack followed by several lower-pitched explosions, all in rapid succession.

Shotgun.

He grabbed the night vision scope, the spare rifle magazine, and his rifle, quickly stood, and started to run, skimming the bottom of the play set tower with his head. The impact jolted his head, causing him to drop the spare magazine. He felt a severe pain at the very top of his skull, but ignored it, pushed through the snowdrift and started running toward the front corner of the Coopers’ house, planning to run between the two houses and engage the last target. He heard another sharp crack, which he assumed was Charlie’s rifle.

I hope you got him.

His hope was dashed when he heard at least a dozen rapid gunshots, which sounded smaller than a shotgun. He stuffed the night vision scope in his left cargo pocket while running, snatching the walkie from his jacket.

“Charlie, Charlie, I’m moving between the Coopers’ and McCarthys’. What is your status?”

He heard another shot from Charlie’s rifle.

“I can’t hit him. He’s at my front door. Where are you?” Charlie shouted in a panicked voice.

“Almost around the corner. Hang on, Charlie,” he said and stuffed the walkie back in his pocket.

He reached the corner and slowed down, raising the AR-15 to his shoulder. He cautiously took the corner, keeping the weapon aimed toward Charlie’s front door. He looked over the scope, not wanting to limit his field of vision, and spotted a figure standing on the covered porch with a shotgun aimed toward Charlie’s front door. The shotgun erupted three times, and Alex heard Charlie screaming through the walkie.

He put the red dot on the figure, who was now kicking in the front door, and fired two shots. He looked over the scope and saw the man stumble backwards and fall down the porch steps. Alex started to push through the snow toward Charlie’s house, keeping the red dot on the fallen target. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Charlie close the upper left window of the second floor. He crossed the street, still sighted in on the heap at the bottom of Charlie’s porch.

No movement.

As he reached the short snow bank along the opposite side of the road, the front door to the Murrays’ house swung open, and someone stepped outside onto the Murrays’ stone porch. He couldn’t make out any details, but saw a figure silhouetted against a dim light cast from inside the house. Alex threw himself against the snow bank and fired several hasty shots at the new threat, not bothering to use the scope.

Close enough.

He scurried down the snow bank a few more feet and popped up over the top of the bank, searching through the scope for a target. He didn’t see the figure anymore, but could tell that the front door was still open. Another figure stepped out onto the porch, and he added pressure to the trigger, centering the red dot on the dark mass. A smaller figure appeared, and Alex eased off the trigger. Both figures hopped off the right side of the porch, disappearing into the bushes. He reached into his cargo pocket for the night vision scope.

Where’s the scope?

He quickly checked the other pocket.

Gone. Goddamn it.

He stayed low and called Charlie on the radio.

“Charlie, come in.”

“Still here, did you get him? I assume you got him. That was you shooting, right?” he asked, less panicky.

“I hit the guy at your door. He’s down. I haven’t checked him yet. Someone popped out of the Murrays’ house while I was crossing the road. I need you to scope out the front of the Murrays’ house. Two people jumped off to the right of the porch into the bushes. I can’t tell what’s going on. Watch yourself up there.”

“Gotcha. I’m moving.”

Alex looked over at the body near the bottom of the Thorntons’ porch. He brought the rifle up over the snow bank and centered the red dot on the figure and saw an arm claw at the snow.

Definitely still moving.

“Alex, Alex,” Charlie said through the walkie.

He pressed the talk button and realized that his hands were freezing.

Adrenaline is wearing off. I’ll get the shakes soon.

“Go ahead, Charlie,” he said, beginning to shiver.

“I don’t see any threat there anymore. I think we’re fine.”

He shifted his glance out of the scope and looked over at the Murrays’. He could see three figures standing on or around the porch. The one standing in the doorway looked like a child. He could hear screams coming from the group.

“What exactly is happening over there? What are they doing in the bushes?” Alex demanded.

I need a better SITREP than that.

“Alex, I don’t, uh…what about the guy down here? Is he dead?”

He looked into the scope and saw the same scene. The figure was trying to crawl toward the street. He pulled the trigger three times, centering the dot on the crawling mass, which stopped moving altogether. He heard screaming from the Murray house.

“He’s done,” Alex said. “What the fuck is going on at the house?”

“Alex, they’re fine. I don’t see any weapons. Trust me, we don’t have to worry about them,” Charlie said, and Alex sensed once again that he was keeping something from him.

“Just tell me what you see. I’m not moving until you convince me it’s safe.”

Actually, I don’t plan to stay out in this shit weather another ten minutes.

No response.

“Charlie, I’m cold, and I’d like to go home. If you don’t tell me what’s going on over there, I’ll blast the entire front of the house away,” he said irritably.

“Well, it looks like you shot one of the kids…I’m sorry, I don’t…they’re picking the body up now. They’re not armed as far as I can tell,” Charlie said.

“I saw an adult pop through that door. It wasn’t a kid.”

It could have been a dog for all I know.

He aimed the rifle at the front door, staring through the scope at the group. The image was grainy, but he could see three figures carrying a body up the stairs of the porch. The smaller figure in the doorway reached up to grab the body. He heard more screams and then the front door slammed shut. He grabbed the walkie, which was sitting in the snow next to him.

“Let’s grab all of their weapons and check the bodies. We don’t want any surprises. Meet me on the street. Out.” He put the walkie in his jacket pocket.

He looked around at all of the houses, which appeared as black shapes rising from an endless, flat, dark-gray sea. Blankets of gray snow washed over the scene, providing the only movement his eyes could detect. He started walking across the street, crunching the freshly fallen snow. When he reached the snow bank on the other side, he leaped over it and retraced his steps back toward the corner of the house and found the night vision scope buried under half an inch of snow. Ten more minutes and he might not have recovered it. He turned it on and stared at the Murray house. The door was closed now, and he saw faint lighting from within the house.

He turned off the night vision and dropped the scope into his right cargo pocket, feeling it hit the spare magazines. The Thorntons’ front door opened, and Charlie walked out onto the covered porch, pointing some kind of a rifle at the crumpled body in the front yard. Alex yelled out to him and walked over to join him.

Charlie was dressed in a dark green winter jacket, blue jeans and tan combat boots, a fur hat with a tail pulled tightly over his ears. They met in the middle of the street and shook gloved hands as the wind whipped around them. Alex noticed a black nylon holster like his own on Charlie’s left thigh, sheltering a pistol.

“That thing’s dead, right?” Alex said, staring at the hat.

“Very funny. It’s a Daniel Boone cap. My dad gave it to me in the sixth grade, and it’s the warmest hat I’ve ever owned. It also happens to be a good luck charm. I’ve never missed a shot with this on my head.”

“Well, I think your record is still intact. Nice job,” Alex said.

“I had the easy part. Warm house. Target rich environment.”

“Nothing easy about killing someone, even these guys. Trust me. Let’s get this done, and get back inside.”

“I’ll grab the two guns between the houses. You’ve done more than your share tonight,” Charlie offered.

“Actually, we should go together. Just in case. I don’t mind a few more minutes out in this wonderful weather.” They started walking toward the kill zone between the two houses on the other side of the street.

Waves of snow and wind pounded them as they approached the bodies. Alex slung the rifle over his shoulder and put his right hand up to protect his eyes, wishing he had tucked the goggles into one of his pockets and not his backpack. He took solace from the fact that the wind would be at his back for the trip home. He heard the walkie squawk and pulled it out of his jacket pocket.

“Hello. Hello!”

“Alex?” Kate said, though he could barely hear her while walking into the storm.

“It’s over, honey. We got ’em. All of them. I’ll see you in a few minutes. I love you!” he yelled into the walkie.

“I love you too!” she said back, and he heard it clearly.

He pushed forward with Charlie until they saw the first body, slumped on the ground against the Hayes’ house. A massive dark patch stained the siding a few feet off the ground. Alex didn’t care to look closely at the patch, sure he’d see chunks of brain and bone frozen to the cedar planks. The shotgun lay a few feet in front of the body, partially buried in a drift and was quickly on its way to disappearing under fresh snowfall. Charlie pulled it out of the drift by the shoulder stock and unloaded the weapon, dropping the shotgun shells into the snow.

They both looked around for the last body, but couldn’t see it through the storm. Alex pulled out a flashlight and searched the area right between the two houses.

“Where’d you drop the first guy?” he asked Charlie.

“Got him maybe a third of the way across. He turned his body, like he was thinking of coming my way, and I hit him square in the upper chest. Went down like a bag of rocks.”

Alex moved toward the Hayes’ house, searching the ground and spotting a bolt action hunting rifle and the start of a trail in the snow. He quickly brought his rifle around to a ready position and thumbed off the safety. Charlie drew his pistol and stepped forward, even with Alex.

“Looks like he crawled a little. Definitely some major blood loss,” Alex remarked, and they both edged forward, finding Manson face down about twenty feet from where he’d been shot. Alex shined his light down on the prone and motionless figure and saw a dark red pool of blood in the snow around Manson’s upper body. The man’s hands and arms were tossed in resignation, just forward of his head.

“Sure he’s dead?” Charlie asked.