A New World: Taken (23 page)

The new set of hands leaves and I close my eyes focusing every ounce of my being and soul into the strain of holding the doors.
 
I hear the rattle as links of chain are threaded through the handles.

“The doors are chained,” I faintly hear.
 
My ears are roaring with the strain.

“Find the C-clamp,” is all I have the energy to say.
 
My teeth are clamped tight and it feels like my head is going to rupture from the pressure.
 
My fingers ache beyond any knowing.
 
The muscles in my back feel like they are going to let go at any moment.
 
I can already hear the ‘twang, twang” of them snapping.

“It’s done,” I hear.

The pressure on the door from outside releases and the door, only open a couple of inches, slams shut.
 
The night runners have released the doors as if they know they are sealed.
 
The noise outside rises as they howl and shriek in frustration.
 
They begin hammering on the windows.
 
Black Team has finished chaining their door as well.
 
I can’t release my fingers as they are cramped on the door handle.
 
Faces press against the windows as if they can force their way in.
 
Their frustration is evident.

“Thanks,” I tell Robert and the others who showed up.

He and the others merely nod.
 
The fact that night runners are this close is unnerving for all of us.
 
I hope the doors hold or we’re going to get a much closer look.
 
I’d rather that not happen.

I slowly pry my fingers from the door and am struck with the agony of unbending them.
 
I straighten my back and know it will never be the same.
 
My muscles are screaming.
 
A wave of nausea passes through.
 
The doors rattle back and forth as the night runners renew their efforts but the chains hold.
 
I see several take off to the left.
 
Oh shit!
 
I forgot the pool door
.
 
It was my plan to seal the door there upon arrival but the effort here distracted me to the extent that I wasn’t able to get to them.

“Lynn, the pool,” I shout.

She is bent over with her hands on her knees catching her breath.
 
She looks up at my call and glances outside to see night runners peel off in the background.

“Greg, if there is any chain left, start sealing the inner doors.
 
If there isn’t any chain, use 550 cord,” I say into the radio.
 
“Lynn, you and Black with me.”

“Lead on,” Lynn responds tiredly.

“Will do, Jack,” Greg replies.

“Gonzalez, McCafferty, Robert, help Echo with the doors,” I say pointing to them.

We turn and leave the snarling mass of night runners at the windows.
 
The screams escalate as we turn toward the main gym doors.
 
I have to admit it is very alarming to have so many night runners pounding on the windows and doors; their faces pressing against the glass.
 
The doors rattle in their steel frames even harder.
 
Time is not our friend right now and I hope the night runners haven’t entered the pool area as yet.

Entering the gym, I see Echo Team, with help from some of the others we’ve brought in, begin wrapping lengths of chain around the double doors leading into the gym proper.
 
I head to the side entrance doors expecting a rush of bodies to blast the doors open.
 
The doors open inward so there isn’t any way to seal them.
 
We’ll have to seal the pool door itself.
 
I look through the small window but only see the small band of light from the window, with my silhouette, against the far wall.

I cautiously open the door.
 
The smell from the hall launches an immediate assault upon my senses.
 
The muscles in my back, shoulders, and arms are tight from the previous strain.
 
My hands are shaking a little on the door handle.
 
My legs protest the first step into the hall.
 
Nothing is moving down its length.
 
The locker room doors open up to the side just ahead but only the occasional drip of water can be heard from within.
 
The ringing in my ears has subsided but I can still sense more than hear the roar from the night runners so close just moments before.

Easing to the first locker room entrance, I crouch and listen.
 
There is only faint sound of the pool lapping on the concrete sides.
 
No slap of bare feet.
 
No howling shrieks.
 
Just the melancholy sound of empty rooms.
 
Black Team enters the hall behind.
 
I have Lynn post two team members in the hall covering the other locker room entrance and ease inside.
 
Stepping quietly around the wooden benches bolted to the floor in the middle, I am startled by the sound of a door slamming.

The booming noise echoes in the air from the pool interior.
 
Shrieks emanate from within.
 
I rise and dash out into the pool proper knowing fully that night runners have just gained entrance.
 
I knew the plan to rescue those held was going too well.
 
No plan survives from first to last encounter.
 
I had no idea the night runners would scale the fence and be upon us so quickly.
 
The thunderous roaring of the claymores certainly gave them notice something was up but to react so quickly wasn’t something I was expecting.

Racing out into the pool proper, I go to my knees and see night runners pounding down the concrete floor by the side of the pool.
 
The smell of chlorine is sharp as is the distinct odor of unwashed bodies.
 
This is startling as I have never had such a sharpness of smell before.
 
I feel a slight pounding in my head announcing the beginning of another headache.
 
There are only a few night runners inside but I sense more entering.
 
This is the first trickle of a potential flood.
 
Their screams ring out and echo loudly off the hard walls at the sight of me.
 
The sound of boots falling in behind me mixes with the feet of the night runners hurtling in my direction.

I thumb the selector to auto and fire a quick burst, sending the first stream of bullets in the night runner’s direction.
 
My M-4 kicks into my already sore shoulder sending a spasm of pain down my arm.
 
The rounds forcefully impact the lead night runner in the abdomen and chest.
 
It spins in mid-step and falls into the pool face first.
 
The splash causes ripples of light from the pool to dart across the ceiling and walls.
 
The body floats on the undulations in the water its fall created.
 
Crimson flows from the large holes in its back and spreads out from the bobbing body.
 
The night runner twitches and then is still.

All of this is unnoticed as I switch to the next night runner in line.
 
The pathway beside the pool is narrow allowing only two to three night runners to span its width.
 
Muted barks of other carbines joining in sound out beside me and behind.
 
The night runners in the front line are jerked from their feet to fall on the hard surface.
 
One twists violently and falls half in and half out of the pool.
 
It slides slowly, inch by inch, into the pool where it joins its comrade.
 
Others fall to the floor slowly or impact hard with meaty thuds.

The second line goes down in the same manner.
 
The shrieks of those entering override the sound of our cartridges bouncing off the walls and floor.
 
I quickly look to make sure no one is directly behind me.
 
I don’t want to rise in the path of a bullet intended for a target different than the back of my head.
 
It’s clear as the soldiers to my rear are off each shoulder.

I rise and step forward delivering bursts of rounds into the nearest night runners.
 
It’s important to push them back before they can mass in the pool area.
 
If that happens, we’ve lost the room.
 
Their massed attacks have pushed us out of every building we’ve been in before.
 
If we didn’t have to reload, it would be easier.

Splashes erupt from the pool again as another night runner takes the plunge with its bullet-ridden body.
 
The pool has turned to a light pink with the streamers of light on the ceiling and walls mimicking the change in color.
 
More night runners pour in but we are effectively pushing them back with our combined efforts.
 
The door is only twenty feet away.
 
If we can get to the door and close it, we can hold it and tie it off.

I feel a hand grasp my ankle and begin tugging.
 
The surprise and jerking pulls me off balance.
 
I look down to see a night runner in the pool, one that I thought was out for the count, reaching up and trying to pull me in with it.
 
The side of its head explodes splashing the water beside it with a chunky mass of flash, brain, and blood.
 
It releases its grip and sinks below the surface only to rise bobbing in the swells of the pool.
 
I look back at a Black Team member behind me and nod my thanks.

Lynn stands beside me delivering burst after burst into the midst of night runners entering the doorway.
 
Her lips are pressed together in grim determination.
 
The strobes from our weapons firing bounces off the walls; their white flashes in stark contrast to the gentle crimson streams emanating from the pool.
 
I look up from the night runner that was inviting me for a swim towards the open door.
 
My stomach is gripped by a sudden tightness at the sight.
 
I notice with horror that night runners have fallen in the doorway itself.
 
There is no way we’ll get the door shut.
 
We won’t be able to pull the bodies away while holding the door.
 
A sickening feeling descends; beginning at my heart and ending in my stomach.

“Jack, this is Greg.
 
The night runners are pulling away from the entrance and heading your way,” I hear loudly in my ear piece.
 
I stop.

“Pull back to the gym,” I yell to Lynn.

“Why?!
 
We’re almost to the door,” she yells back.

I point to the bodies in the doorway and see the problem register.
 
She stops with me and I see her shoulders slump although she and the others keep up their fire.

“Greg, get everyone into the upper gym and hurry.
 
We’re going to be coming in with company.
 
Take Echo and cover the far door from the hallway.
 
Red Team, take 110’s and head to the upper gym railing,” I say as quickly as I can.

“Will do, Jack,” Greg responds.

I eject my mostly empty mag and replace it.
 
There is a pause where everything is quiet except for the clatter of my mag slowly bouncing on the concrete and the lapping of the pool.
 
Even the night runners have gone silent.
 
It’s just one of those weird moments when all is quiet in the midst of incredible noise.
 
It’s like when a room goes quiet just when you shout something inane.
 
The night runners act as if they are confused as to why we stopped and are trying to figure it out.
 
As quick as the silence came, it ends with a rush of noise; night runners howling and carbines firing with suppressed claps.
 
Smoke hangs motionless in the air.
 
Light bounces off the walls.
 
Bodies float in the red tint of the pool.

My thoughts reach out to the next few moments.
 
We’ll have to hold the doors leading from the hall to the gym.
 
We lose those and we’ll lose the gym.
 
We can retreat to the upper gym if we have to but the night runners will also be able to climb the bleachers with ease.
 
We’ll take down a few more but the end will be the same.
 
If it reaches that point, we’ll only be prolonging the inevitable if we aren’t doing that very thing right now.
 
Right now we have to buy time for Greg.

A light goes off in my head brighter than the strobes flashing against the walls.
 
I almost do a face-palm maneuver.
 
We have the upper hand here and only one door.
 
Why defend two doors when we can defend one.
 
This is the only way in.
 
I feel so stupid for not thinking of it before.
 
My mind must be tired
.

“Greg, belay that last.
 
Get everyone into the upper gym and beat cheeks to the pool.
 
Red Team, keep watch the outside entrance doors,” I say into the radio.