John O'Brien - Takedown

I holster my sidearm and ready my M-4. The door leading from the landing opens away from me which is good news. I plan to rope the doors below me in the same manner I did at the CDC to seal off my backside. That way, I’ll know that my route to the roof, once I reach the stairs, will not be infested with night runners.

The stairwell itself is like most others I’ve encountered. The stairs lead downward against one wall to an intermediate landing with the other set doubling back and heading down to the third floor. This one is a little wider than the others and doesn’t have a center wall — it’s completely open which allows an unimpeded view.

I edge to the railing and, using my signal mirror, I take a quick look downward. I’m immediately met by the sight of two night runner faces peering up — one from the floor immediately below me and another from the second floor. Their expressions appear more inquisitive than alerted.

Shit! How could they know something is going on? I think, withdrawing the mirror.

I suppose the quick flashes of light could have tipped them off or it could have been the bodies slumping to the ground. I can’t believe they could have heard anything, though. Even the cartridges hitting the floor barely made a sound. It had to be the light. I move the mirror once again just barely over the edge. The one on the floor below me is still peering upward, but from a different vantage point.

I keep the night runner in view, holding the mirror to keep it from being seen, and ponder my options. I could wait it out until they settle down, take them out and then do the same for the second floor. That’s if I want to seal this stairwell off, which is the ideal solution. My second option is to proceed through the door and begin my search for Lynn on the fourth floor. I’m not overly fond of leaving night runners at my back and possibly blocking my best exit route. The third option is to abandon this entrance point and find another.

All have their pros and cons. When in doubt, go with the first. I take a last look at the night runner below, who is now periodically shifting its glance toward my landing and the one below it. I take out a coil of 550 cord and quietly loop it around the swing arm of the stairwell door leading to the interior. I then tie it off to the railing making sure not to be spotted from the curious night runner below. Even though I plan to enter through this door, I need to seal it for the moment to keep my backside clear as I progress down. If I’m caught in the stairs, I’ll have a clear passage to the rooftop.

With the time it took to tie off the door, the night runner below has apparently lost interest in me. I’m not sure what alerted the both of them, but they appear to have calmed down. Training my carbine to the extent I can toward the third floor, I begin stepping down the stairs with my back against the outside wall. I’ll have to take out the night runner on the third floor before I arrive at the intermediate landing. I’ll be completely exposed there if I don’t.

I creep downward, checking at my foot placement before I put my full weight on it. Any slip or shuffle will be heard. The fact that they don’t know I’m here attests that the smoke trick is working. Now to keep steady — no creak of boots or knees or sling jostling. I’m just a mist moving silently through the darkness.

I stop prior to reaching the halfway point. The one night runner has left the railing and is standing in front of the third floor door with its back to me. I don’t want to take it out from here because the flash would be too easy to see from the second floor. I could quickly take out the one I see on the second floor, but there could be more than one present. I don’t have a clear enough view to verify a definite number.

I keep the red dot of my SpectreDR centered on the night runner as I step onto the landing. If it turns, I’ll be directly in its line of sight. Stepping slowly, I edge near the outer wall. My dot stays glued to the back of its head. If it gives the faintest indication it is going to turn, I’m firing. A single shot directly into its head and then quickly rushing forward to focus my sight on the one downstairs.

My heart beats solidly, my system flooded with adrenaline. I take in short breaths to keep my system in check. I only use my peripheral and my parallax view to keep the dot centered. Looking directly at the night runner will cause it to turn because it senses something not quite right. Small step by small step, I make my way across the landing.

Glancing to the second floor, I only see the lower legs of a night runner. There could be others. I make it across to the next set of steps. The night runner, just a scant few feet away moves. I freeze. My middle finger tightens on the trigger, close to the point of the trigger break.

It growls and lifts its nose, sniffing the air. Great, I’m caught — it smells me. It then shuffles to the side, all the while facing toward the door. Clad in a tattered t-shirt and jeans that are mostly shorts at this point, I don’t see how it can smell anything beyond its own stink. The stairwell reeks of them. Then, of all things, the night runner reaches around and scratches its ass. It apparently really itches because it takes some time to complete the task.

It would be amusing if not for my current situation — inching down a stairwell filled with night runners, in the midst of a large lair. The night runner shuffles once again and resumes its stance. I ease the pressure off of the trigger and place my foot on the next step. I inch closer, careful not to brush up against the wall. If I can sneak near enough, my plan is to use my knife. This will be tricky, and I contemplate just taking the shot, but I don’t want Mr. Curious downstairs to see another flash. The first one may have been written off but a second will surely cause an alarm.

The night runner below is panting and I see its head drop forward before snapping back up. It dawns on me that this is their nighttime and the one near me is falling asleep. That bodes well. Slowly and carefully, I creep ever closer with each step, taking an eternity to place each foot.

Its head drops and doesn’t rise by the time I take two more steps. Only a couple more to go until I’m level with it. I begin moving to the side to keep out of its range of vision should it snap alert again. This will keep me more to its back.

I set my foot on the level floor. Quietly lowering my M-4, but ready to bring it back at a moment’s notice, I reach down and draw my knife. I’m committed now. If it does come awake and turn, I’ll have no option but to lunge and try to keep the ensuing struggle down to a low roar. And hopefully it won’t let out a shriek of alarm in the process.

I’m surprised it can’t hear my heart racing. It’s about all that I do hear — the thudding of blood under high pressure pounding in my ears. I come up directly behind the night runner and rise slowly from my crouch, being careful not to make any sounds. A sudden move on the night runner’s part will alter where my knife enters.

I reach quickly around to cup its mouth and pinch its nose as I thrust my knife under the rib cage, driving upward into its kidneys. I feel the warm gush of blood pour over my hand as the night runner stiffens in my grasp. It contorts its body away from my knife in an effort to escape the extreme pain. I keep pressure on the knife and twist repeatedly. It only takes a few moments and the night runner goes limp. I ease it to the ground, removing my knife.

A shriek erupts from the landing below me, echoing off the concrete walls of the stairwell.

Fuck! What?! I think, quickly replacing my knife and looking over the railing.

Two night runners are running up the stairs, both looking over their shoulders directly at me. I raise my M-4 and, placing the selector switch to auto, I send a burst into the first one. My rounds hit it in the shoulder and then head as the streaking projectiles stitch upward. A mist of blood fills the air and saturates the wall from the force of the bullets striking. The night runner stumbles forward and then slams face first into the stairs. Its body begins a slow slide back down the steps.