Alex slammed him into the door, pinning both hands against the bullet-riddled wood. He was back where he started, holding both wrists in a struggle he couldn’t win. Except this time Red held a semiautomatic pistol in his right hand. A quick knee to Red’s already obliterated groin yielded nothing but a snarl and a return knee, which Alex deflected by turning his hip. Red’s strength surged, pulling him toward the foyer hallway. He couldn’t go to the floor again, not with a pistol in Red’s hand. A bullet penetrated the door a few inches from their heads, causing their eyes to dart to the hole.
That might work.
“Mom! Shoot the door! Shoot the door!” he screamed past Red’s left ear.
They shifted a few more inches toward the foyer opening.
“Shoot the fucking door, Mom!” he yelled and buried his head under Red’s chin.
Two rapid blasts scattered slivers of wood over their shoulders. A sharp sting bit into his right shin as Red’s body shuddered and weakened. Alex let go of Red’s left wrist and wrenched the pistol free with both hands, throwing himself behind the safe box as bullets continued to plow through the house. Red stumbled a few feet away from the ragged, bloodstained door and dropped to his knees, staring blankly at the mass of dead men in front of him. His right hand drifted slowly to his rifle while his gaze shifted to Alex’s outstretched, pistol-bearing hand.
Click.
The pistol dry-fired. Red’s fingers seized the rifle’s grip as Alex frantically racked the slide and checked the safety. A single hole appeared in Red’s chest, followed by the distinctive boom of a .308 caliber rifle. Tim Fletcher’s M14 rifle barrel protruded from the bullet-peppered half wall. Red stumbled into the foyer and crashed face first into the wall, leaving a thick red trail as he slid to the floor beyond Ed Walker. His neighbor lay flat on his back, bloody hands pressed into his right hip. Ed looked at Alex and winked. Seeing Ed reminded him of Charlie, whom he’d last glimpsed at the bottom of the stairs.
“You okay, Dad?”
“I’ve been better!” responded Tim, peeking out far enough for Alex to see the brim of his camouflage hat.
“Ryan! Send your status.”
“I can’t talk now,” Ryan responded, followed by a long burst of automatic fire.
“I want you out of sight. The backyard threat has been neutralized,” said Alex.
“Copy.”
“Kate, anything?’
The mudroom exploded in gunfire before she responded.
“We’re almost in,” Eli heard through the earpiece and scowled at the radio, like it was defective.
“Liberty Three, I don’t think you appreciate what I just said. McCulver reported two armored tactical vehicles headed your way. That’s too much firepower. Pull your men out and head to the secondary extract point.”
“They can’t get the vehicles into the compound, Eli, and it’ll take them at least five minutes to work their way through the trees. I have seven guys ready to breach. If the initial breach fails, I’ll pull them out. If it succeeds, we’ll sweep through the house and be on our way to the secondary extract before they reach the eastern tree line. We won’t get another chance like this,” said Brown.
Eli hesitated. Any chance to properly avenge his brother and nephew was worth losing a few more men. Regardless of the final outcome, he’d spin this in his favor, explaining the drastic loss of life as irrefutable evidence that the government had planted secret agents and platoon-sized kill teams among their own citizens. Of course, his militia had emerged victorious, and anyone that wanted proof could take a trip over to Gelder Pond to see for themselves, and be graciously shuttled over by one of his own members. Word about this attack would travel far and wide. The further, the better. He just needed to make sure he survived to spread the good word.
“Liberty Three, this is Liberty Actual. Proceed with the attack. Watch the second floor. You have one shooter armed with an automatic rifle in the northwest corner, out.”
Chapter 40
EVENT +75:31
Limerick, Maine
Kate fidgeted, trying to find a comfortable position lying on the wet tile floor. Razor-sharp pieces of porcelain and glass dug into her knees and thighs, rendering the effort pointless. At least the fragments hadn’t spilled the entire length of the mudroom. Her elbows rested in a thick puddle spreading from the entryway into the mudroom. She braced her rifle against the doorframe, using the wooden trim to shield her left shoulder and part of her face from the mudroom door. This was the best she could do to protect herself, and judging by the holes in the trim above her head, it wasn’t much. Oh yes—sandbags protected her feet.
Wonderful.
All compounded by the fact that she had no idea what had happened in the kitchen. She heard a ton of shooting, then nothing. Her radio was somewhere in the sitting room, detached from the earpiece that still dangled from her ear.
It didn’t matter at this point. She had a job to do. A shadow slightly darkened the mudroom. Bullets penetrated the door, concentrated on the door handle and deadbolt, and slammed into the wooden shoe storage rack attached to the wall. A few bullets ricocheted in random directions, but most of them plowed into the same one-foot-by-one-foot section of the shoe rack, giving her a solid idea where the shooter was standing. She aimed at the wall to the left of the mudroom door and fired several projectiles through the drywall and siding, hearing a muffled scream from the porch outside.
A fusillade of bullets tore through the mudroom, forcing her to press into the doorframe as glass, drywall and wood showered the tile floor. A figure rushed in front of the obliterated door, rapidly firing his rifle at shoulder height into the mudroom. She placed the holographic sight’s reticle center mass and fired as he kicked the door loose of the locking mechanisms. A second man wasted no time following the door in, proficiently advancing and firing through the mudroom door and kitchen entryway. Kate’s rifle killed him before he realized his mistake.
A cylindrical gray object glanced off the door and bounced on the tile, rolling in her direction. She had no idea what it was and had no intention of finding out. All she knew was that when people threw things during a gunfight, they usually exploded. She scrambled to her feet and sprinted through the kitchen doorway, colliding with Alex.
Four bullet holes dimpled the right side of the refrigerator in a tight pattern facing the mudroom. Alex depressed the bolt release button, chambering a round from a fresh magazine, and switched hands in anticipation of firing onto the porch from a position on the right side of the kitchen doorway. Kate burst through the opening as he arrived, knocking him into the broken pantry door, which crashed to the floor.
“Grenade!” she yelled, yanking him toward the sandbags.
Alex stumbled for a few steps, gaining his balance in time to push Kate over the side of the safe box onto the Walkers. As soon as she disappeared, he dove behind the sandbags and waited for the explosion. A few seconds later, when the house didn’t shake, Alex clambered to the corner of the safe box and aimed at the mudroom. Thick, red smoke poured into the house, followed by several .223 bullets fired from men positioned around the doorframe. He fired back, but his hastily delivered bullets failed to find targets. Focused semiautomatic fire forced Alex to stick his rifle around the sandbag corner and fire Jihadi style for the first time in his life. He emptied the magazine and scurried around the other side of the box, reloading as he approached the far end of the kitchen island.