David Golemon - Ripper

“Clear!” he said loudly as his team also stood from their positions of concealment. “Security Unit 3–5 to officer on watch. We have intruders in the complex. Over.”

Sanchez used his boot to kick one of the dead men over to examine him. He reached down and yanked the black hood from the man’s face and stood as his radio was answered.

“This is the watch officer. We have gunfire on level seventeen. Bring your unit to level sixteen and meet Captain Everett. Nellis security has been informed and the base is now shut down.”

“Roger,” he said and then gestured to his men. “Use the elevator, we’re out of time,” he said as he ran forward and entered the car that was supposed to send the second murderous Black Team to join their comrades.

Once more, a battle was raging deep beneath the sands of the Nevada desert.

Henri Farbeaux was awakened by something he had heard while dozing. As he sat up in his bed he was reminded where he was by the clinking of the handcuff on his right wrist. He shook his head to clear it of sleep when he heard what had awakened him — the sound of the complex computer system announcing the emergency on level seventeen. The larger of the two security men used his radio to check into the security center. He listened for a moment and then quickly walked over to where Farbeaux was lying. Without comment he produced a second set of handcuffs, fastening the Frenchman’s left wrist to the bed rail. All the while Henri watched the man with bemusement.

“Uh, gentlemen, I believe that fancy computer of yours said there was a biohazard alert. Do you think maybe—”

“Now’s not the time, Colonel,” said the large air force sergeant. He looked at the marine standing and watching. “You have orders to join Sergeant Sanchez and his team. They’re securing the complex. Meet him on level seven with your body armor,” the marine told him.

Without asking questions, the air force sergeant left the room.

“Is this necessary?” Henri asked, clanging both sets of handcuffs against the stainless-steel bedrails.

“Maybe, maybe not, but your reputation does precede you, Colonel.”

“Oh, that again, huh?” he said with the ever-present smirk on his face.

“Always, sir, always.”

As the elevator fell free into the airtight tube down to level seventeen, Smith tried to contact Team Two on his radio. He tried a second and third time with the same result — static.

“It seems your security element inside the complex reacts just as fast as your gate security,” he hissed, finally allowing his frustration to show through his hard exterior. He charged a round into his M-14 carbine and looked down at Sarah who wiped some more of the flowing blood from her mouth. She took the chance and returned Smith’s arrogant smirk. “I wouldn’t be so smug miss; you’re going to be the first one out of these doors.” Smith was now convinced his Black Team was in over its head. He had opened a hornets’ nest of highly trained men, and if he could retreat he would. But now he had a possible hostile element in his rear. His thoughts on the situation were quick and decisive. He would continue on mission and destroy what it was he came there to destroy.

The elevator finally came to a hissing but smooth stop on level seventeen. Europa announced the location of the car as the doors slid open. Sarah was roughly pushed through the door first, followed by two men who covered the hallway right and left. Sarah turned and looked at Smith.

“Lies always come out,” Smith said as he stepped free of the car with the other four men. “I guess your supermen can’t be everywhere at once.” He once more grabbed Sarah and pushed her against the wall. Before he could question her as to where the appropriate lab was, three people, two women and one man, came around the bend of the white plastic corridor in a hurry to meet the evacuation deadline. Smith pushed Sarah into the waiting arms of one of his men and then raised the M-14 and shot the Event Group man in the chest, making the lab-coated women scream and look up in shock.

“What lab has the emergency?” he asked, still pointing the weapon in their direction.

The two biologists saw Sarah being held by one of the hooded men. Then in an act of quick thinking the one nearest the wall reached for the alarm based at the Europa station. She only made it a foot before she was cut down by Smith. “I’ll ask once more,” he said angrily with the echo of his shots still ringing their ears. He was starting to think these people, whoever the hell they were, were all crazy, or they all had been taught to be a hero.

The woman with tears in her eyes shook her head. Then, knowing what was coming, squeezed her eyes shut just as three rounds caught her in the chest and head, spraying blood on the white plastic wall just as another two men in white coats came around the corner and froze.

“No more!” Sarah shouted.

Smith ignored her, turned to the two men, and shot the one on the right, closest to the alarm terminal. In the flashing of the red emergency lights, Sarah saw Smith aim at the other man who stood frozen to the spot.

“You better be sure miss,” he said to Sarah.

“It’s the next lab over,” she said as Smith grinned and then shot the other unsuspecting man.

“In for a dime, in for a dollar. They can only hang me once.”

“Ahhh!” Sarah screamed and pulled free of the man holding her. She almost made it to Smith with her arms near his throat when he swung the carbine up and smashed her in the jaw, dropping her at his feet. He looked at his men and then pointed down the hallway in the direction the men and women had come from. With one look down at the unconscious Sarah, he followed the rest of the Black Team.

As they approached the laboratory area, they saw the warning lights and the flashing biohazard sign warning them not to go any farther. Smith waved the men down, moving his right hand to the right and left of the clean room doors. He managed a quick look inside and saw a black man standing next to a tall, thin, black-haired woman. There were seven others at some very large windows and they were watching something in another part of the clean room.

As Smith was about to step back, the black man wearing a blue jumpsuit that Smith recognized as the military apparel the dock security team had been wearing turned, each man catching the other’s eyes. He recognized the man immediately as one of the men he rescued in Mexico. Smith quickly brought up his weapon and pointed it through the double-paned window. He gestured for everyone inside to raise their hands as the rest of his team entered through the unsecured door. The black man jumped at the first man through the door. He hit as a linebacker would and they both went down. It was Smith who quickly kicked the black man in the head, sending him off and over Smith’s fallen team member.

“Next time I’ll let him kill you,” the Black Team member said to Will as he lifted himself from the floor. Smith watched the man point the weapon down at the black man’s head and then Smith moved the barrel away angrily. “You afraid he’s going to rise and come at you again?”

The man stepped away angrily and then pushed the tall woman away as she knelt to attend Will Mendenhall.

“Which one of you is named Bannister?” Smith asked as he took in the group of eight people.

A small and light-skinned black woman stepped forward but was pulled back by a large man in a white coat. He pulled the woman until she was behind him.

“I am Colonel Bannister. Who in the hell are you?” he asked angrily, looking from Smith to Mendenhall who hadn’t moved yet. “Can’t you see we have a situation here?”