Under a Tell-Tale Sky: Disruption - Book 1 (22 page)

Grogan glared and, after a long moment, bobbed his head once.

“I didn’t hear you, Private. I asked you if that was clear?”

“Yes, SIR,” hissed Grogan between clenched teeth.

“Good, now are there any other questions?” Luke asked.

Corley, one of the new men, raised his hand and Luke nodded.

“Ahh … what if no one answers the door, LT?”

Luke considered a moment. “In that case,” he said, “pound on the door with the butt of your weapon and announce loudly you assume the house is abandoned and you’re going to break in. Give anyone inside a couple of minutes to respond. If no one responds, notify us you have a potential breach situation and then breach the door. That is the ONLY circumstance under which you will enter a home without a specific direct order from either myself or Sergeant Washington. Is that clear?”

There was a muted chorus of ‘yes, sirs,’ and Luke nodded at Washington.

“All right,” Washington yelled, “let’s mount up and get to it.”

***

They found the first residential area a half mile south of the intersection on the left side of the road, where what had been a carefully landscaped side road marked the entrance to an upscale subdivision of large new homes on spacious lots between the main thoroughfare and a man-made lake. Homes backing on to the busier main street were protected by a handsome brick privacy wall at least twelve feet high.

The little convoy turned into the subdivision entrance and immediately encountered conditions requiring a plan modification. The entrance yielded on to a small traffic circle with streets branching off to the left and right. After a hurried consultation between Luke and Washington, they decided both Humvees would maintain station at the traffic circle, with Grogan and Morton working the street to the south while Corley and Abrams took the street to the north.

The two collection teams parked their pickups a half-dozen houses down their respective streets and started canvassing. The civilian responses varied from tentative to argumentative, but politely meeting resistance with a few minutes of interaction before dropping the not-so-veiled threat of total confiscation and then moving on was working well. After reflection, all of the residents decided giving up something under their control was much preferable to having these intruders in their homes. In a few minutes, sullen residents emerged from their homes with plastic grocery bags and cardboard boxes, usually small, to cast resentful looks at the Humvees as they deposited their meager offerings into the bed of the waiting pickups. The process was slow, but it was undoubtedly faster and less stressful than having a confrontation at every house. The threat of entering nonresponsive houses was also effective, as several homeowners answered their doors just before Luke authorized breaches.

“So far, so good,” said Luke, as he stood with Washington in the little traffic circle next to the two Humvees.

Washington grunted, “True, but that asshole Grogan was right about one thing. I suspect we’re getting a ton of creamed spinach and pickled beets.”

Luke shrugged. “Rorke said food, he wasn’t specific.”

Washington chuckled. Every fifteen or twenty minutes, the collection teams moved the slowly filling pickups a few houses down the street, diverging in opposite directions from the Humvees. At the ninety-minute mark, the Corley and Abrams team still had a long stretch of straight street visible ahead, but the pickup assigned to Grogan and Morton was moving abreast of an intersection. Washington climbed into the driver’s seat of the Humvee and keyed the mike on the radio.

“Shopping Cart Four, this is Shopping Cart Two, do you copy? Over,” Washington said.

“Shopping Cart Two, this is Shopping Cart Four, go ahead. Over,” came Grogan’s voice over the speaker.

“Four, what is the status of the side street? Is it a through street? Over.”

“Negative Two, I say again negative. It’s a cul-de-sac. Over.”

“We copy, Four, intersection is a cul-de-sac. Leave your vehicle parked on this street where we can keep it under observation and have residents carry their … their …” Washington was momentarily stumped as to what to call the food they were collecting. Donations? Contributions? Tribute? After a moment he punted, “Their stuff out to the truck.”

“Shopping Cart Two this is Shopping Cart Four. We copy. Anything else? Over.”

“Yes, Four, please say estimated time to clear the cul-de-sac. Over,” Washington said.

“About a dozen houses. At five minutes a house, I estimate one hour minimum. Over,” Grogan said.

“Two, I copy. We will not have a visual on you, so if you run into problems, get on the horn ASAP. Over.”

“Affirmative Two. Shopping Cart Four out,” Grogan said.

Washington racked the mike and crawled out of the Humvee to stand beside Luke.

“You heard?” Washington asked.

Luke nodded.

“You think I should move down and cover them in the cul-de-sac?” Washington asked.

Luke looked down the road in both directions and then back at the entrance to the subdivision.

“No,” he said, “because it’s just dawning on me this might not be the best place to be. We got a lake on one side and a pretty stout brick wall on the other, and this entrance is the only way through the wall we know of. We could probably bust through if need be, but I don’t see any place to get a running start. So no, Sergeant, I’m fine with both the Humvees here watching our six unless we actually need to provide close support. Better safe than sorry.”

Washington nodded. “I agree. Hopefully we’ll have the trucks full in another couple of hours and we can get the hell out of here.”

***

“This blows,” Morton said as he and Grogan trudged across the lawn of the first house on the left in the neat cul-de-sac. “We’ll be dicking around for hours doing this touchy-feely shit, and we could have already filled both trucks up a couple of times over if we just cleaned out the first six or eight houses we hit. Publix and those other stores aren’t far away, and if these assholes are still all hunkered down in these houses, I’m thinking they got at least some of the loot. I’m betting they got plenty stashed.”

“Tell me about it,” Grogan said. “Kinsey’s a prick. Him and his crap rules … hey, I just thought of something!”

“What?”

“Since they can’t see us, let’s speed things up. Washington’s expecting us to be here an hour at least, so we can ditch all that nicey-nice crap and work all these houses and then take a break.”

“Sounds good to me, bro,” Morton replied just as they reached the front door of the house.

Grogan grinned and pulled open the storm door to hammer on the inner door with the butt of his weapon, leaving dents in the beautifully stained wooden door.

“OPEN UP! FEMA! OFFICIAL BUSINESS!” he yelled. Beside him, Morton smirked.

The door opened tentatively to the full width allowed by the security chain and an elderly woman’s face appeared in the crack at waist level. “Y-yes? What is it?” she asked, fear in her voice.

“You got five minutes to get half your food and any fuel to the pickup truck at the entrance to the cul-de-sac,” Grogan snarled. “If it’s not out there in time, we’re coming back and taking everything you got. Any questions?”

“B-but I don’t have much—”

“Not my problem,” Grogan said, “comply or we’ll come back and take it all.”

“I-I’m in a wheelchair. I can’t get it out to the stree—”

“Again, not my problem, grandma,” Grogan said. “But if it ain’t out to the truck in five, we’ll be back to help you, and I guarantee you won’t like it. You have a nice fucking day!”

Morton burst out laughing as the two turned to cut across the yard to the next house.

“Outstanding,” Morton said.

Grogan smirked, pleased with himself. “Did you time me?”

“A minute, more or less.”

“I’m gonna try to do the next one in forty-five,” Grogan said.

“Shit no, man! Let’s take turns,” Morton said. “I bet I make the next one in under thirty.”

“All right, that’ll make it interesting. What’s the bet?”

Morton thought for a minute. “I got two six packs of brew stashed. How about you?”

“You’re on. I got half a bottle of Jack Black squirreled away. Fastest time takes it all.”

The two raced from house to house down the same side of the street, circling the cul-de-sac as they delivered their eve- briefer ultimatums with cheerful brutality, until they arrived back at the entrance to the cul-de-sac across the street from the old woman’s house.

“I still think you cheated,” Grogan grumbled.

“Seventeen seconds, bro,” Morton chortled, “that Jack is gonna go down so smooth—”

“Watch it, man! You want Washington to see us?” Grogan said, grabbing Morton’s arm and pulling him back as he neared the main road.

Morton grinned. “Sorry, bro, just thinking about that Jack. How much time we got?”

Grogan looked at his watch as Morton eyed the steady stream of residents carrying parcels to the pickup, noting with satisfaction the ‘contributions’ seemed much more substantial.

“That only took us fifteen minutes,” Grogan said. “We got at least forty-five left, easy.”

“This is gonna finish filling the truck,” Morton said. “Maybe we should blow off the break and just report back. Besides, I do want to get me a taste of that Jack.”

“Don’t be a dumb ass. If we show back up in fifteen or twenty minutes, Kinsey’s gonna know we didn’t follow his stupid rules, and give us a ration of shit. We just gotta chill till he’s expecting us. I’m gonna sit my ass down right over there under that big shade tree.”

Morton nodded and the two started across the yard, until Morton grabbed Grogan’s arm and dragged him down behind a hedge.

“Whoa! Dude, check it out!” Morton said, and nodded across the street to the old lady’s house as he peeked up over the hedge.

Grogan followed suit and saw a slim young woman in a sundress carrying two plastic grocery bags and walking down the old lady’s sidewalk, headed for the pickup at the entrance to the cul-de-sac.

“I guess Granny’s ‘I’m all alone in my wheelchair’ story was bullshit,” Morton said.

Grogan nodded as he eyed the woman hungrily. She was in her late teens or early twenties, and the simple sundress did nothing to hide the curves of her slim body. She had long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail.

“Now that is one fine piece of ass,” Grogan said as he watched the woman deposit the bags in the pickup and start back toward her house, hurrying now, as she looked in all directions. “You reckon it’s just her and the old lady?”

“That’s my guess,” Morton said, “‘cause I’m thinking if there was a husband or father or brother, he’d have hauled the stuff to the truck.”

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Grogan asked.

“If you’re thinking you know how to spend the rest of our little break, I believe I am,” Morton said, then added, “First dibs.”

“Screw you, Morton! You already got my whiskey, so I got first dibs on the woman. Besides, you probably only need about seventeen seconds anyway, seeing as how you’re so fast and all.”

“Screw you back, Grogan,” Morton said, but he was laughing as the two men rose and moved toward the old lady’s house.

“What’s up, Sergeant?” Luke asked as Washington lowered the binoculars.

“I don’t know,” Washington said, “but it doesn’t seem right. A bunch of people started dropping off food in the pickup not long after Grogan and Morton started canvassing. That’s way faster than I expected, and now there hasn’t been anyone there for the last fifteen minutes.”

“You think you should—”

Gunfire sounded down the street from the direction of the cul-de-sac, a few individual shots, possibly a handgun, followed after a brief pause by semiautomatic rifle fire.

“Shit!” Washington said as he swung into the driver’s seat on the Humvee and grabbed the mike.

“Shopping Cart Four this is Shopping Cart two. Sitrep, NOW. Over,” Washington said.

“We’re taking fire, repeat, we’re taking fire. Grogan is down, repeat, Grogan is down. I am withdrawing to the pickup. Over,” came Morton’s voice.

“We copy, Four. Support is on the way. Over.”

Washington looked at Luke, who was already in the driver’s seat of his own Humvee, picking up the mike. “Shopping Cart Three, this is Shopping Cart Actual. Suspend your current operation and move pickup to our current position to assume control of the subdivision entrance. Shopping Cart Actual and Shopping Cart Two are moving in support of Shopping Cart Four. Confirm. Over.”

“This is Shopping Cart Three, we copy. On the way, LT,” Abrams said.

Luke cranked up the Humvee and started after Washington, who was already racing toward Grogan and Morton’s pickup. They arrived within seconds of each other, bracketing the pickup, just as Morton ran across a lawn and ducked behind the truck, rising to shoot toward the house, then moving into the more secure area behind Washington’s Humvee. Gibson and Long manned the M2s, searching for threats, as Luke and Washington exited their vehicles on the sides away from the house and moved beside Morton.

“What the hell happened, Morton?” Washington demanded.

“Me and Grogan heard screaming coming from that house. We got there and found the door kicked in and stumbled upon a bunch of gangbangers, must be a dozen of them, maybe more. Anyway, we got in a firefight and Grogan got hit. They almost got me too. I had to leave him; there was too many of them,” Morton said.

“Is Grogan dead?” Luke asked.

Morton nodded. “Absolutely, LT. He took a round in the head. I hated to leave him, but it was just too hot. I think there may be more of them. We need to get out of here ‘cause this place will be crawling with bangers in a few minutes.”

“We’re not leaving anyone.” Luke moved to peer around the Humvee at the house. “Damn! The place is on fire. There’s smoke coming out the windows.”

“The dude is DEAD,” Morton said, “and we shouldn’t risk anyone just to recover a body.”

Luke kept his face impassive. “All right, Morton, settle down. Take cover behind the pickup and keep an eye on the front door. I have to think about this.”

“The dude is DEAD,” Morton repeated, but assumed the position behind the truck as ordered.