Trent Reedy - Divided We Fall

“Yeah, the soldiers don’t have a Humvee or nothing. I think they radioed for backup.”

“Cal, just keep eyes on them. We’re on the way.” I tapped out right as I entered the apartment building, rushing up the stairs. “Come on, Sarah, have a car, have a car, have a car,” I whispered.

Cal’s comm location popped up on my screen. I tapped for directions between us. He was ten blocks away. We’d never get there in time on foot.

The apartment’s living room was empty. I rushed to the kitchen. As soon as I burst in, Sweeney jumped away from Sarah, who started buttoning up her shirt. Unbelievable.

Sweeney pushed his hand back through his hair. “Dude, you could have knocked.”

“They got JoBell and Becca,” I said, adding to Sarah, “You have a car?” She nodded. “Mom,” I shouted. “The girls… um… bought too much stuff. Sarah’s going to take us to meet them in her car. We’ll be right back. Stay here.”

“Danny?” Mom called from her bedroom, but I didn’t wait around. No time.

Sarah knew right where the grocery store was, and she drove as fast as she could. I checked my comm. “Cal hasn’t moved. He’d follow them if they left. Or he’d call.”

“What are you going to do when you get there?” Sarah asked.

I took my nine mil out from under my belt. “I’m going to get Becca and JoBell back. I don’t much care how.”

Sarah pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall with a big grocery store and other businesses. The parking lot was packed with cars, some wasting gas, stopped with their motors running.

We drove on and sure enough, in the parking lot around the corner, two soldiers stood with M4 rifles next to JoBell and Becca. The girls’ hands were bound with plastic zip ties. The only thing we had going for us was that the side lot was mostly empty. Only one car and truck were parked over there.

Sarah drove through the lot until she pulled up in front of the store, out of sight of the Army guys. As soon as she stopped, Sweeney and I scrambled out of the car.

“Listen, Sarah—” Sweeney started.

I pushed him aside and leaned down to the window. “Go back to your place. Tell my mother that we’re leaving the second I get back there. Be cool. Don’t tell her what’s going on. Try to keep her calm.” She chewed her nails. “It’s okay,” I said. “Thanks for all your help. We’ll see you soon.”

She drove away. Cal ran up to us. He pulled out his pocketknife. “What do we do? You got your gun?”

“We can’t shoot them,” Sweeney said. “I mean, it’s broad daylight. It’ll make too much noise. Draw too much attention. Plus, you know, we can’t just kill them.”

I drew them into a huddle. “If the three of us hurry, we might be able to get the jump on them, take their weapons, and maybe tie them up.” I elbowed Sweeney to get him to look at me. “But here’s the thing. We need to be hard-core on this. Yesterday I gave these guys a chance, saved the life of this asshole Fed soldier. As soon as I helped get him stabilized, the Fed medic tried to arrest me. We can’t trust them.”

Cal’s eyes were hungry. He looked like he was getting ready for a big football game. I knew he was in, but Sweeney looked away. “Hey,” I said, grabbing Sweeney’s arm. “We have to be willing to do whatever it takes. You with me?”

He nodded. “With you all the way.”

“Hell yeah,” Cal said. “What’s the plan?”

“We rush those guys. Tackle them. Like football,” I said.

Sweeney wiped his brow. “I’m the quarterback. I don’t really tackle people.”

“It’s three against two,” I said. “Me and Cal will go for the tackle. You help where you’re needed. Make sure we get their guns. We only get one chance at this.”

I motioned for them to follow. We walked past the storefront until I could peek around the corner. Becca was crying. JoBell was talking to her like she was trying to calm her down. The soldiers were maybe fifteen feet away. That would be a lot of ground to cover when they were armed. We might have only a few seconds from the time they spotted us.

“Here’s the play,” I whispered. “Tackle some asshole Fed soldiers. On three, on three.” The guys signaled that they understood. I made sure my nine mil was secure in my pants with the safety on so it didn’t go flying or accidentally shoot me in the leg. I closed my eyes and said a quick silent prayer. Then it was time to do it. “Set, hut, hut, hut!”

I ran faster than I ever had before, right for the bigger of the two soldiers.

“Hey!” the other one called out.

My target spun to face me and started to bring up his rifle. He was too late. I drove my shoulder into his gut, wrapped my arms around the back of his thighs, lifted him while I pushed him back, and dumped him hard on the pavement. Then I scrambled up and punched him in the nose before yanking his M4 out of his hands and standing up.

Cal and his soldier rolled on the ground, each of them trying to pull the M4 from the other’s grip. Sweeney ran up and clocked the soldier in the nose, but he somehow kept fighting for the rifle. Sweeney punched him again.

“Come on, man! Hit him harder!” Cal grunted as he kept trying to get the rifle away.

Making sure the guy I’d taken down could see that I had his weapon, I pressed my new M4’s muzzle to the other soldier’s head and yanked the charging handle back to chamber a round. The loud click of the bolt’s action froze Cal’s man right there.

“Give him your weapon,” I said calmly. When me and Cal were both standing with rifles aimed at the soldiers, I motioned with mine toward the alley behind the grocery store. “Get up. Walk over there. Keep your hands low, but where I can see them. You try to go for a weapon or a radio and I swear I will shoot you.”

The Feds stood up, and we all moved together into the alley.

“Danny, thank God,” Becca said when she’d followed us to the alley. “It’s my fault. I’m so sorry. We were running groceries out to the truck and I was talking about you with JoBell. These soldiers recognized your name and the vehicle description, and they just grabbed us.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry.” To Cal, I added, “Give Sweeney your weapon. Cut the girls loose.”

Me and Sweeney pushed the two soldiers — a sergeant and a specialist — up against the wall near a big green metal garbage dumpster.

“What are you going to do, shoot us?” said the sergeant.

“I’m PFC Wright. You have a problem with me, you come for me, got it? You leave my friends out of it.” I handed JoBell my M4. “Cover me while I search them.”

I patted the guys down, finding more zip ties in the sergeant’s pocket. I faced them away from us and bound their wrists behind their backs. The rest of the search turned up the usual things soldiers carried: sunflower seeds, chewing tobacco, cigarettes, and a couple knives. But each of them also carried one smoke and one CS gas grenade. “I’ll take these,” I said, stuffing the grenades into my pockets. “Never know when they’ll come in handy. Now, you boys are going to stay here. Don’t try to follow us.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” a voice said from behind me. “Don’t move!”

I drew my nine mil as I spun to face this new soldier, just as he pointed his M4 at me. Two more Feds rushed in from the side.

I kept my nine mil aimed at the one who had spoken. He had me in his sights. JoBell was locked up gun to gun with a soldier to my left, Sweeney in the same situation to my right. Cal ran behind us, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him knock the first two zip-tied soldiers on their asses before they could try kicking us or something.

“I’m Staff Sergeant Kirklin,” said the soldier aiming at me. “You folks need to put your weapons down.”