100: Besieged, Day 4, part 1

Paterson, January 6th, 2000

"What the fuck are they waiting on!  George, how do we get them to do something stupid?"  The energy in my voice is answered by smiles from the boys.  I feel fresh and ready. 

George smiles, "They already are."

Leo eagerly interrupts.  "Da, he gives us time to heal.  Another day and we push him."

"Been making plans, Leo?"

"My friends, when do I not?"  He traces routes on the map.  "We can ex-filtrate a team out the north and to the east along the river.  We swing around behind their positions at the sub-train yards.  Come out of the dark and...."

BOOM

A shiver runs through the halls.

Alpha's first off the mark.  He's out the door, rifle in hand, shouting, "Basement!"

Heavy gunfire starts up from south side. 

"You wanted them to do something stupid?"  George asks as he slots a magazine into his rifle.

"Rhetorical, purely rhetorical.  Leo, follow Alpha."  I know explosives.  "That was a breaching charge, not an attempt to bring down the building.  Take a fire team.  He'll need reinforcements."  Leo leaves at a sprint.

"George, take charge of the civvies."  He frowns.  "They're our responsibility.  I doubt Hizzoner's men have any compassion for them."

"Right, I'll raid the armory, pull some shotguns."  Damn, I should have done that earlier.

Contact reports start to flow in.  South face is under heavy suppressing fire.  A follow-up reports smoke to their front.  East side reports light contact.  Just to pin them in place Lt Belski opines. The situation is under control.

And it all changes in a moment.  Outside our meeting room the last of my reserve opens fire, a eardrum wracking mad minute.  Doc leans out the door to add her weight to their fire.  Inside, I receive hurried contact reports from the east and south, dements to their rear.  More explosions inside and outside the walls, mostly to the south.

The fire just outside dies, replaced by single spaced M-16 retorts.  Doc gives me a thumbs-up.  East reports situation stable.  No contact with the south.  Again, no contact with the south.  I can still hear the fire.

I signal to Doc, get ready to move, "South!".  On the tac-net I signal, "Belski, execute Uniform, repeat Uniform."

I hear his acknowledgement as I head out the door.  Dements are on the inside.  We'll bust through to the men on the south or avenge them.  I have to trust Leo and Alpha to close the hole.

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Alphabit

I take the stairs half a flight at a time, one hand on the rail, and one on the CAWs stock.  The men I pulled curse and follow as they can.  It won't do any good if we get there late, and St. Patrick help me, I know I'm already late.  At least one of the hose-heads is inside.  I felt the touch of its evil across my scalp as I hit the stairs to the basements. 

Bellows of rage meet me as I round the last landing.  A handful of dements charge from the generator room.  A short burst bounces shot from the floor, walls, and through them.  Bellows turn to screams. 

My men have my back.  "Hose-head inside!  Hold and cover!"  Crouching, I swap magazines before duck walking down the stairs.  Claws tickle against my mind.  Where are you? 

There's a pair of double doors into maintenance storage before you get to electrical proper.  As I approach them the generator fails.  In the brief flicker of darkness before the battery lights kick in a second wave of dements boils forth.

Close enough to feel, the sharp bursts of M-16 fire pass over my head.  In the confined space they fall.  The doors to maintenance crash open and a dark, lumpen blur slams into me, clawed hands flailing, the vest shedding under it's strike.

Pity about his cousin's leathery replacing my old inserts.  The creature's claws slid away.   Staggered, I push back at the beast with my CAW.  My men scream at me to drop as it steps away.  Instead, I set the CAW in my hip and let it have five rounds of buckshot.  It drops to one knee and the CAW comes up to my shoulder.  I flip the selector to semi-auto and space the rounds until it drops. 

Ears ringing I shout the men forward.  "Secure the intersection!"  Entirely on their own, hands pluck another magazine from my webbing and slam it home.  The ugly bastard on the floor keens and curls tight around itself.  I shift to cover it so the shot doesn't bounce into my troops.

Leo rounds the stairs, alone, his cold blue eyes taking in the scene.  "We need chains," I tell him.  "It's still alive."