“Inside, move!”
They rushed in past him as he covered the rear, eyes and AA-12 seeking out targets.
When they were inside, he backed into the building after them and pulled the door shut, casting around for a way to barricade it. Before he could say anything, Norton stepped in and pushed him slightly out of the way. Masters couldn’t see what he was doing, but a second later he heard the click of the door locking.
“How did you—” he started to ask, then paused and shook his head. “Never mind.”
They were in a reception area, he saw as he turned around, and security doors were at the back of the room. The place was clearly labeled, for ease of navigation, he supposed, which was certainly going to make things easier on them.
“Okay, back to the generator rooms,” he said. “We need to shut this place down.”
The group nodded and they breached the security doors, still on the alert for any signs of current “occupation.” They followed a long corridor deeper into the building, pausing when it ended in a large pair of heavy-duty doors. Beyond, they could hear the thrum of machinery, even through all the insulation.
Masters nodded at the door and Rankin stepped up, nudging it open with his shoulder as Masters took up the entry position. When it opened, he stepped through, AA-12 to his shoulder, eyes scanning the room.
It was a huge room, large enough that he could see no fewer than four house-sized buildings inside of it, but other than the expected machinery, there didn’t seem to be anything or anyone around. Masters waved the others in, and they quickly joined him.
“Okay, the generators will be in there.” He nodded to the house-sized constructions. “We need to figure out which ones are active and shut them down.”
“Right,” Norton said, scowling over the scene. “Any idea how to do that, mate?”
“Just help us find the ones that are running, will you?” Rankin asked sarcastically. “They’ll be the ones making noise, just so you know.”
Norton flipped him the bird, but he stepped forward to help nonetheless. The group stayed more or less together, walking up the center line between the large insulated buildings that housed the massive generators.
“This one is making a racket,” Rankin said as they passed the first.
When no one responded, he looked around, raising his voice, ”Did you hear me?…Oh.”
“Yeah,” Masters said from a short distance away, turning slowly as he looked up and around.
Above them, lining the catwalks of the massive room, were dozens, if not hundreds, of pairs of dead eyes looking down on them.
“Well…shit,” Rankin muttered.
“Richard, Perry,” Hannah said softly, “I believe that you may be about to meet with your fate.”
The two men grunted as they fingered their shotguns idly.
“Do try to leave an impression, if you would?”
The two suddenly grinned widely, nodding.
“Ah, Hannah, love,” Perry chuckled. “What would we do without you?”
“Die,” she said, “alone and peacefully in your beds in five decades or so.”
“And to avoid such a fate, we’ll owe you well into the afterlife.”
Masters ignored them, muttering instead to Norton, “Alex…check your six high.”
Norton frowned, looking up over his shoulder. There was a female figure above them that was standing apart from the mob and glaring down at them.
“Ah. Well, no need to flush her out then, yes?”
“That’s my guess.”
Norton sighed. “We’re screwed, but at least this saves time.”
Above, the figure that was watching them spoke loud enough for her voice to reverberate through the immense room.
“Kill them.”
The whine of the Coast Guard chopper winding up was loud enough that the SEALs had to strain to listen when Captain Andrews headed their way.
“Masters is making his play!” she called. “We’re going to get in the air and provide what support we can. I still don’t know what the hell is going on in that damned town, but we’re not leaving them flapping in the wind. Clear?”
“Clear, ma’am!”
“Get on board.” She nodded in the direction of the chopper. “Lift off in five. Don’t forget your kits, boys.”
“You heard the lady,” Derek said, hefting his gear as he rose up. “Pack your shit and mount up.”
The three SEALs headed for the chopper while Judith turned back and joined Captain Tyke.
“Captain,” she said as she approached. “We’ll be heading out shortly.”
He nodded. “I heard. You’re joining them?”
“I have my orders,” she said, “and they don’t include sitting around your ship, Captain.”
“Well, good luck,” he told her, his eyes on the chopper for a moment before sliding over to the distant lights of Barrow. “I don’t pretend to know what’s going on here, but I have a feeling that I probably don’t want to. Captain…Judith, I have to ask, are you taking military personnel in against rioters?”
Judith’s face closed up. She knew why he was asking; more importantly she knew what he was really asking. The use of military personnel against American civilians was pretty strictly limited; however, a state of emergency had been declared, and a military presence had been authorized by the federal branch. Still, even though the legality of ordering men into Barrow in this situation was probably on the white side of gray, it was as good as putting a gun to the head of her career and squeezing the trigger if it got out.
That’s assuming that I’m right in my interpretation of the law, of which I’m far from certain.
Still, she thought about what she’d seen. The blood halo over the bodies in Barrow, the way Nelson’s attackers had torn into him with their teeth, and then the insanity of the attackers charging Masters as he held his ground with the only weapon of the bunch.
Whatever else they were, she was certain they were no rioters.
The question she didn’t have an answer to, however, was the important one.
Were they American citizens?
She just didn’t know.
Outwardly, however, she swallowed her doubts and looked evenly at Captain Tyke.
“No, Captain, we are most certainly not dealing with rioters.”
CHAPTER 15
This time, Masters made sure that his first drum was loaded with slugs, because while he would have much preferred the specialized grenades made for the AA-12, his order for those hadn’t arrived in time, and some heavy-hitting slugs would be a nice second best.
The bitch up on the catwalk didn’t even bother to move when he dropped a bead on her, putting the holographic sites square on her, center mass.
Arrogance.
The automatic shotgun roared its distinctive, fast series of “booms” and a three-slug burst opened the fight before any of their enemies could close even a quarter of the distance between them. He couldn’t have missed if he were drunk, not at this range, and each slug struck on target in a spray of blackened blood and necrotic flesh.
Masters hesitated for a moment as the figure stumbled back against the wall behind her. Is that it?
His question was answered when she regained her footing, shot him a glare he swore he could feel, then leapt off the catwalk and onto one of the generator buildings, disappearing from sight.
“That won’t work on her!” Norton snarled, scanning the room. “Save your ammo.”
“What the hell? I nailed her center mass!” Masters objected. “Those slugs should have blown her spine apart!”
“That’s not a drone, Hal,” Alex Norton snapped. “Taking her down is going to require a more personal touch.”