If we did this thing carefully, we might still be able to get out of it without losing too many people.
I started running toward the largest group of Ellis Woods people, but came to a screeching halt and pointed my gun right at the first man I came across. One of Randall’s. The guy looked up, his own gun seemingly out of ammunition, and then he dropped the gun.
“Hands up,” I ordered.
I saw his eyes go wide like he knew I would spend approximately .3 seconds deciding whether I wanted to shoot him or not if he talked back, and then his hands were behind his head. Around me, I could still hear some gunfire—but I could hear voices as well. Most of them loud. All of them aggressive.
I glanced around, trying to make sense of all the action and noise, and saw that many of my people were shouting commands to Randall’s men, who were wisely dropping their weapons, and one by one were being zip-tied and shoved to the floor. I was glad now that Marlon had a stash of zip-ties—just another surprise from his armory back at his compound that we’d felt necessary to bring along.
Marlon was to my right, shouting at a group of men who weren’t moving quickly enough to get down, and I saw Henry working with Joe beyond that, both of them ripping down tents to figure out whether anyone was hiding.
The entire room had gone from being a mass of chaos and noise to being something that had at least a little bit of organization, and though I wasn’t positive exactly how it happened—exactly how we’d suddenly managed to come out on top—I wasn’t going to complain. The important thing was that it was all heading in one direction: my people were absolutely running riot in the area, and Randall’s men were prisoners, and being zip-tied, their weapons being gathered. We’d taken the room, but the battle was yet to be won.
Some of my people stayed behind in this first room for now, to not only guard the weapons room, but to finish gathering up the prisoners, while I led the rest of my group to the bigger hall, where I’d promised Bob we would meet them.
“Let’s go!” I screamed. “Check every last tent, then get to the next room. We have to get to the other side of the building to back them up!”
Around me, most of my people began to push forward, while some took the time to look through any tents along the way to ensure there weren’t any of Randall’s men still in hiding. No one was going to get out of this, I realized. None of Randall’s men were going to be left free in this room once we were done. My people were walking forward purposefully, their guns ready, their faces intense.
I couldn’t have been prouder if I’d trained them all myself.
I just hoped Bob and Sean were having as much luck on the other side of the building, where the shooting sounded like it was actually increasing rather than dying down.
God, I hoped we didn’t get over there to find them all dead. I hoped we got there in time to do something about it if they were in trouble.
34
By the time we got into the main hall, Bob and Sean had opened the door on the other side and already pushed a number of prisoners of their own through the opening. I could see them on the far end of the hall, shoving people into the hallway and still shouting and shooting as they went, taking down any of Randall’s men that were still putting up a fight.
At least most of Bob’s fighters were still alive, then, and I breathed a quick sigh of relief at the idea that they’d been able to get everything under control and the gunfire had died down.
This hall was full of tents and supplies, just like the other room had been, though I could still see the door into the front room down the main walkway between the rows of tents, so it was at least slightly more organized.
“Push forward!” I shouted to my people. “Get everyone out of the tents! Meet Bob and Sean and their people in the middle of the room!”
Our group got into action, and we shoved forward, shouting orders and constraining our enemies as we went. This room was different, as the men in here had obviously heard what was going on in the other rooms and had time to get out of their tents and prepare.
But the weapons had evidently all been in the room we’d first cleared, because no one in here seemed armed.
And that meant they still didn’t have any defense against us. What was more, they seemed rational enough to realize that they couldn’t fight back, and would die if they tried. For the most part, they went with their hands up, their faces registering their surrender.
“These aren’t Randall’s men,” I muttered as Marlon and I strode forward. “He would never have trained men to give up like this. And why were most of these men unarmed? Who the hell are they?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he replied, taking a moment to push through a tent and make sure there wasn’t anyone in there.
And that was a question that would need answering. Because I didn’t know where Randall had acquired these men—or the weapons or supplies that seemed to come with them—but I had a very strong feeling that it was going to become important. Soon.
At that point, the cuffed men we were pushing in front of us suddenly ran into the men that Bob and his company were pushing in front of them, and the entire mass of humanity stopped moving. We’d reached our goal. We had our prisoners, and we had them all in one place, with a few more flowing in from the first room we’d occupied, guarded by the last of our fighters.
But I’d been watching carefully, and I knew that we were still missing someone. Randall wasn’t in here with his men—if these even were his men. He’d been somewhere else—and as long as he was free, he was dangerous. We might have avoided a battle. So far.
Something in my gut told me that Randall was going to make sure we had one, though.
“Marlon, keep an eye on these prisoners,” I said quickly. “I have questions to ask them. But first, I’m going to go find Randall.”
Before he could reply, a few windows burst, and in came cylindrical objects, skittering across the floor, spewing smoke. Moments later, a haze filled the room, and gunshots rang out. Were my people firing on the prisoners? I found that hard to believe as they’d all been bound and defenseless.
No, the gunfire wasn’t coming from my people—it was coming from outside the building.
And it was quite obvious who was laying on this new attack: Randall and the rest of his men.
I knew this had to have been some sort of trap. And we were right in the middle of it.
From the other end of the building, the section where my group had started the invasion, I heard a couple gunshots followed by a rumbling noise. Like a herd of elephants heading straight toward us. A freight train coming down the tracks…
And then the entire room exploded in chaos.
35
Gunshots echoed in the room I was in with Marlon and the rest of our fighters. I could barely see through the smoke, though it seemed as if the prisoners we held in the middle of the room had dropped to the ground to avoid getting struck by the bullets that careened through the hall like angry insects buzzing to and fro.
As armed men stormed the room from the double-wide door that led into the first room we’d cleared, I aimed my gun toward the door—a choke point for Randall’s incoming men—and pulled the trigger.
A silhouette of a man falling told me that I’d hit my target.
I adjusted my aim and fired again. And again.
Around me, my own men were doing the same, staunching the flow of enemy combatants. For a split second, I thought about how we’d been duped. Randall and his best fighters had been somewhere else in town, knowing that we’d descend upon Town Hall. Knowing that we’d fallen right into his trap. The men we’d captured… who were they? Random refugees that had stumbled into town and were given a place to lay their heads? Had they unwittingly been used as a decoy? Was Randall really that… nefarious?