Chapter 4 - Fire in the Dark
“Return fire! Sector Two, suppress the treeline!” Colonel Hayes roared over the deafening racket of automatic gunfire, drawing his sidearm and dropping into a tactical crouch beside the refrigerator.
Sparks flew from the microwave as a stray bullet punched clean through the metal appliance. The smell of ozone and burnt wiring filled the air, mixing with the lingering scent of my mother’s burnt coffee.
I scrambled across the glass-strewn floor, pulling my tactical harness tighter over my shoulders. My service pistol was still locked in my deployment bag in the hallway closet, but Vance had tossed me a standard-issue Sig Sauer sidearm when he uncuffed me. I racked the slide, checking the chamber in the dim red glow of the emergency battery backup strobes.
“Vance!” I yelled over the din. “Who has access to portable EMP units in this sector? That’s restricted military tech!”
Director Vance was crouched behind the overturned kitchen island, firing two controlled shots through the broken window frame. “Only two units within a hundred miles! Fort Meade R&D and the regional defense contractor facility twenty miles north!”
“Which means our leak isn't just in the Pentagon,” I said, squinting through the shattered window frame into the pitch-black fog. “They have active operators on the ground right here.”
A heavy thud shook the back porch. Someone was trying to force the kitchen screen door.
“Mama, stay under the table!” I ordered, not waiting for a response as I lunged toward the doorway.
As the wooden door splintered under a heavy kick, a dark silhouette stepped into the kitchen, leveling a suppressed carbine toward the floor where my mother was hiding.
I didn't hesitate. I raised my pistol, sighted center-mass, and fired twice.
The intruder grunted, stumbling backward off the porch and tumbling down the wooden steps into the dark mud with a heavy thud.
“Got one!” I shouted, pivoting to cover the hallway as another agent rushed in from the living room, bleeding from a superficial graze on his forearm.
“General! The front transport is disabled!” the agent panted, pressing a hand to his bleeding arm. “They hit the engine block with an incendiary round. We’re pinned!”
“We can’t stay here,” Hayes barked, crawling into the kitchen and hauling my mother out from under the table. “If they bring in heavy armor, this house is a tinderbox. We need to move to the secondary extraction point through the back woodline.”
“There’s a storm cellar behind the garage,” my mother whispered, clutching my arm. “Michael built it… he kept extra supplies down there. No one else knows about it.”
I looked at Director Vance. He nodded grimly. “Lead the way, Mrs. Harris.”
May you like
We didn't use the doors. Moving with practiced military discipline, an agent kicked out the remaining slats of the pantry window that opened toward the backyard. One by one, we slipped out into the cold night air, the rain starting to drizzle down as the burning wreckage of the front SUV cast a flickering, hellish orange glow across the yard.
---
