Cliff Ryder - The Finish Line

Pistol out in front, David crept inside, walking heel-toe and making sure of each step before placing his foot down. The entryway was a prime ambush site, with a built-in counter to his right, and what appeared to be a living room to his left. Ahead, a dark hallway stretched a few yards to open into another room, but he couldn't see any details.

He took another cautious step into the house, and what did leap out at him immediately was the smoking object that skittered along the floor toward him, his mind recognizing what it was even as he dived into the living room.

"Grenade!" he shouted.

David landed on the thin carpet with an impact that sent pain shooting through his body. He tried to protect his injured shoulder as much as possible, but the injury still hurt with new agony. Mouth open, ears covered, he drew his legs up and had just enough time to hope the wall between him and the grenade would be solid enough to protect him.

The detonation burst through the room in a clap of thunder, the pressure wave pushing over him as plaster and smoke billowed out of the hallway. David grabbed his pistol from the floor and covered the hallway, expecting an attacker to come charging in at any second. He heard the door creak open again, and Jay's low voice calling out.

"Vert?"

David spit plaster dust out and called back. "On your left." He rose to his feet, aware of warm stickiness that had penetrated the bandage on his side. Creeping to the edge of the now pockmarked wall, he saw Jay near the counter, uninjured. He pointed at the hallway. "It came from back there."

"You okay?" Jay's eyes dropped to David's left side.

He glanced down to see a dark blotch staining his sweatshirt. "Yeah, just a flesh wound. I'm fine." His words were interrupted by a sound like a long strip of cloth being torn coming from somewhere outside. David peered into the gloom, trying to make out anything. "Did they get out?"

An answering burst came from above them, shells rattling on the floor over their heads. "There's your answer. Let's take him out and secure the high ground. The boys will keep anyone at the back door pinned down until we can reinforce them."

They leapfrogged down the hallway, each one taking a step forward, then covering the other as he advanced. At the entrance to what looked like a kitchen, Jay indicated for David to head left, and he would go right, both of them sweeping and clearing the room in approved procedure. David nodded, and they burst into the space, weapons up and tracking any movement that might be hostile.

Silence and emptiness greeted them. Light green cabinets and avocado countertops ringed the kitchen, with a dusty Formica table on its side against the far right wall. A stairway headed up, next to a door that might have been a pantry, or it might have led to a basement. Evidence of movement was everywhere on the dirty linoleum floor, but before David could make sense of it, Jay was at the stairs, submachine gun leading, listening for any movement above them. He pointed at David and himself, then up the stairs.

David nodded, walking to the right side and covering the stairway, then motioning for Jay to go up. The older man was noiseless as he ascended the staircase, ghosting up what should have normally been a creaky set of wooden steps. They didn't make a sound under his feet. Another burst of silenced submachine gun fire came from above them, the noise allowing Jay to reach the top of the stairs. He checked the landing, then waved David up.

Sticking to the edge of the stairs so he wouldn't alert their quarry to their presence — David sneaked up to stand behind Jay, who had readied another flash-bang grenade. The room beyond had fallen completely silent. Jay pointed at himself, then straight out along the nearest wall of the room, then at David, motioning for him to go around the corner and clear the right. David nodded, feeling the familiar adrenaline surge he always felt before entering a hostile, unknown room.

Holstering his pistol, Jay made sure David was ready, counting down from three before pulling the pin, tossing the flash-bang into the next room, then clapping his hands over his ears. David did the same, opening his mouth again to equalize the pressure as the grenade detonated.

The moment it went off, Jay drew and rushed along the far wall, covering the left side. David rounded the corner and swept his area of the small room, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the sloped ceiling. This room had been cleared out, leaving no furniture behind. Except for the smoldering remains of the grenade in the middle of the room, and a few dozen shell casings on the floor, it was empty.

"Clear!" David whispered, not wanting to alert the gunman in the event he was hiding somewhere nearby. The window that opened out to the back had been smashed out completely, a weak breeze stirring the light blue curtains framing it. David pointed at the opening, then up on the roof. Jay nodded and crept over to the left side of the window. Just as he hit the wall, a burst of fire stitched through the ceiling, bullets thudding into the middle of the floor in small clouds of dust, sending wood splinters flying. David turned away, not wanting to catch a fragment in the eye. It was followed by another burst, this one only a yard or so away from David, then a third one that tore the roof open near Jay's head. No sooner had the submachine gun fire died away than the roar of an SUV engine sounded from the backyard.

David stepped beside the window, pressing his back against the frame to steady himself as he peeked out over the yard and saw a black van accelerating toward the left side of the house. Gunfire flashed from the corner, then David heard a surprised shout, three shots, then a loud thud.

Grabbing the top of the window frame, he pulled himself up onto the ledge, feeling the sharp burn of his injured shoulder and warm, sticky blood flowing as the wound reopened. He stood, peeking his head out and looking up.

The shooter, a very tall man with short black hair, stood at the edge of the roof on the left side of the house, his head down, poised as if to jump. Holding on to the roof edge with his wounded arm, the pain throbbing through his upper body, David managed to get his pistol up and aimed at the man.

Lining up the three-dot sights, he was about to squeeze the trigger when the tall man looked in his direction, his eyes widening at the sight. He swiveled at the hips, bringing his short-barreled submachine gun around to fire. Before he could, however, David squeezed the trigger of his pistol three times, the small bullets punching into the guy's chest.

At the same time, a burst from the other window hit the gunman in the back, making him stagger and step off the roof, pitching over without a sound. David glanced over to see Jay, who'd apparently had the same idea, propped up on the other side, subgun held in both hands. A second later, there was a meaty thump, as if someone had pitched a pig carcass off the side. Jay's head disappeared as David heard automatic fire from the parking lot out front.

"Shit!" Sweating and shaking, David slowly lowered himself back inside, mindful that he could easily take the same route to the ground the shooter had if he wasn't careful. Only when his feet touched the floor did he breathe easier.

Jay stood at the other window, firing at an unseen target. "Damn, they're armored, as well." He whirled and headed for the stairway. "Julio's down — come on!" He pounded down the stairs in huge steps, with David behind him, struggling to catch up. On the main level, he followed Jay out the door and around the corner, where Fritz was already tending to Julio, who lay on the ground, clutching his side and groaning. The roof shooter lay unmoving a few feet away, his legs twisted beneath his body, a submachine gun in the dirt near his limp hand. His open, sightless eyes confirmed his death.