Steven Konkoly - The Perseid Collapse

He was effectively wedged between two threat vectors, unable to simultaneously watch and engage targets coming from both directions. He quickly peeked above the hood, spotting the familiar boonie hat through the punctured windshield. Bullets snapped past Alex’s head, forcing him down. He detected movement behind him and turned halfway to the left, switching pistol hands. The second man he had shot with the pistol groaned, desperately trying to reach the rifle lying next to him. Alex extended his left hand and fired a single bullet through his face, slamming the man’s head into the side of the building.

The shooting stopped for a moment, and all Alex could hear above ringing in his ears was the low din of heavy rainfall beating against sheet metal. He needed to reload the pistol. He dropped to the asphalt and reached along the left side of his vest, searching for a spare pistol magazine, while scanning the space under the vehicle. He could see the man’s boots shifting on the pavement beyond the protruding axles.

The sound of fast-moving footsteps drew his attention to the front door. Alex propelled himself forward, slamming into the bloody wall just as a man dressed in MultiCam utilities stepped onto the porch, firing wildly into the cars. Sliding down the wall into a shallow puddle, Alex slammed the fifteen-round magazine tightly into place, depressing the slide-stop to chamber a round. Three 9mm hollow-point projectiles struck the man in a tight pattern under his exposed armpit, knocking him out of the doorway.

By hastily moving against the wall, he had put too much distance between himself and the front bumper, giving the shooter behind the SUV a clear line of fire. If he had more time to consider his next move, he would have been better off dropping out of sight—hoping that he could beat the rounds that would soon be headed in his direction at three thousand feet per second. Instead, he did what most people trained to defend themselves with firearms would do. He shifted and fired—at nothing.

“He’s down!” yelled Ed, the barrel of his Ruger 10/22 protruding beyond the edge of the church corner.

Saved again by Ed.

Alex gave him a thumbs-up and raised himself out of the crimson puddle, focused on killing the rest of the militia. Four men had rushed out, bringing the total confirmed enemy casualty count to eight. He had no idea if Charlie had added to that number, or if he’d simply kept them from reaching the back door. A volley of three suppressed rifle shots and a scream from inside the building answered his question.

Not wanting to give away his position by yelling, Alex tried to communicate with Ed using basic hand signals. He pointed at Ed with his index finger, then pointed at his own eyes, following this with a quick hatchet hand in the direction of the road. He wanted Ed to cover the road in case the gunfire attracted attention. Ed nodded and disappeared, leaving Alex to wonder if the message had been received. He transitioned back to Charlie’s rifle and slowly sidestepped into the open doorway, staring over his sights for any threats.

The door opened into a large vestibule with several rows of coat hooks, all of them empty except for a light blue child’s windbreaker. Beyond the vestibule, a tight hallway crossed the building’s central passageway and dead-ended at a window on the far wall. A fusillade of rifle fire erupted from the central hallway, causing him to tighten his grip and focus on the right side opening. Clearing the rest of the building would be tricky.

Alex sprinted down the hallway, keeping his rifle pointed toward the right, in the most likely threat direction. He hit the intersection, spotting at least two hostiles crouched in open doorways down the center hallway. Three crumpled bodies lay beyond them. He glanced in the opposite direction and scanned the doors and floor leading toward the church. The doors on the left side were closed, and the shiny linoleum floor was clear of spent brass. He felt confident that the hallway behind him was clear of threats. Now he just needed to figure out a way to keep Charlie from popping him with his own rifle.

He stepped back from the corner and edged toward the hallway until the first occupied doorway appeared in his rifle’s holographic sight. The figure in the doorway leaned out and fired two rapid shots in Charlie’s direction. Alex fired, spilling the man into the hallway. Alex pulled himself swiftly back from the corner as a single round skipped off the linoleum floor in front of him and buried itself in the drywall behind him. The sound of three suppressed shots echoed through the hallways.

Alex eased himself toward the corner again, angling the rifle to expose as little of his body as possible to the remaining shooter. He waited a few seconds and dashed across to the other side of the hallway, continuing well past the corner. Several rifle bullets followed him, exploding the drywall on both sides of the vestibule hallway, as the shooter tried to follow the arc of his movement beyond the walls. He heard the sound of his suppressed rifle amidst the chaos.

“I got him!” yelled Charlie.

“I’m coming out slowly. Same plan as before, except you stay in place, centered on the stairs. Got it!” said Alex.

“You’re clear to move!” said Charlie.

Alex took a deep breath and moved to the corner, peeking into the hallway. Charlie had moved to the middle of the doorway, aiming Alex’s rifle down the long hallway. Alex had four rooms to clear. Two sets of two doors, located next to each other on both sides of the hallway. He stepped into the hall and noted a long, mottled red streak on the gray wall next to the first doorway on the left. A mangled head protruded several inches beyond the bottom of the doorframe, anchored by a thick pool of spreading blood. Alex slithered along the right wall, keeping his rifle focused on the left side doorways. He stopped and listened for movement within the rooms, hearing nothing.

He spun to the right and entered the first room on the right side, immediately determining that it was devoid of threats. The classroom had been stuffed with gear belonging to the owners of the vehicles parked outside. He faced the doorway and quickly slipped into the room next door, finding the same thing. Another classroom stuffed with suitcases, oversized duffel bags, coolers, hiking backpacks, tents and sleeping bags.

There was far too much stuff in these rooms to fit into the assortment of vehicles he’d seen in the church parking lot. These fucks had been at this for a long time. He spotted a light pink child’s backpack with the initials LAH sewn in white thread on the outer pouch. He didn’t want to think about what they would find if they took a walk into the forest behind the parking lot.

Alex cleared the two remaining rooms, one of which was empty, waiting ominously for more refugees to take the devil’s bargain being offered at the Milton Mills crossing. The other room contained several cots and a large wooden table. Two car batteries connected in parallel sat against the far wall of the room, attached by black and red wires to a power inverter on the right side of the table. Several handheld radio charging stations lined the back of the table, plugged into a surge protector powered by the inverter. All but one of the charging stations was empty. He swiped the radio from its cradle and turned to the doorway.

“All clear!” he said, peeking into the hallway.

“All clear!” repeated Charlie.

When he saw Charlie start to rise, with his rifle pointed downward, he stepped into the blood-slicked corridor, checking the three bodies slumped against the walls for signs of life.

“They kept coming,” he said, his voice trailing off. “Never saw anything like it.”

“Just like Khe Sanh?” Alex asked.