John O'Brien - Return

Now racing down the stairs to the fourth floor landing, Lynn sees Drescoll and another Green Team member firing through openings in both doors leading to the interior; the doors held partially open by bodies lying in the openings. Lynn exchanges magazines, her now mostly empty one clattering to the landing under her feet as she quickly replaces it with a fully loaded one from her tactical vest. The stench of dead bodies, their insides ripped open by steel-jacketed rounds and bowels emptied mingles with the sharp smell of gunpowder. The near continuous firing is deafening in this small space, amplified by the concrete walls echoing the noise.

“They’re coming down the stairs from above,” Lynn shouts in Drescoll’s ears. “We’ve got to move out now.”

Drescoll merely nods his acknowledgement as he continues to concentrate and focus his attention on keeping the night runners at bay and out of the stairwell, their only route out of here. The rest of Black Team has passed and are on their way down to the lower landings as Lynn passes behind Drescoll and continues her way down. Drescoll and the other Green Team member folding in behind her, delivering their rounds through the open doors as long as possible on their trek down to the third level close on Lynn’s heels.

The overall plan is to fold back in sequence as each landing is passed. The ones guarding those landings and entryways folding in behind those who have passed, becoming the next rear guard. In this fashion, the rear is still protected without the team members bunching up on the stairs slowing the entire retreat and making them more vulnerable. Reaching the third floor landing, Lynn sees the same scene being repeated here as at the fourth level, Jordan and another soldier holding fast as the night runners try to force their way in. The bodies of those slain blocking the doors open. Strobes from their weapons firing bounce off of the walls. Luckily, this version of the night vision goggles have a quick, automatic response to lighting changes or they would all have been blinded by the first rounds sent outward from their M-4’s.

“Follow Drescoll down,” Lynn shouts to Jordan on her passing behind him.

“Roger that, First Sergeant,” he replies without taking his eyes or rifle from the open door on his side. “Hurry though. We won’t be able to hold here much longer.”

“Lynn, this is Jack. I’m overhead with three teams. Need any help? I think I can set down on the main road,” Lynn hears over the din prevalent in the stairwell.

“I think we have it but standby,” she responds to Jack.

Lynn looks back up the stairs quickly to see Drescoll and the other soldier fast behind her, still covering the stairs to prevent the night runners from blind siding them. Looking back down the stairs, she notices an absence of gunfire. The area below is void of the strobe affect. A panic sets in. Have they already broken through there? I may have spoken too soon. She thinks stepping quickly but cautiously down the stairs.

Rounding the intermediate landing, she notices the two soldiers still guarding their posts. Relief immediately settles in her. We’re almost there . She holds up on the second floor landing with the two other soldiers and waits for the others. Drescoll and his teammate immediately appear on the stairs descending quickly.

“Keep going,” she yells as he draws near and slows.

They both pick up their pace once again and descend toward the first floor. The two soldiers guarding the third floor landing appear, traversing backwards and delivering rounds upwards before turning suddenly and running down the stairs toward her. They pass quickly by her following in Drescoll’s path.

“There’s movement and sound on the other side of the door but they haven’t tried to come in as yet,” one of the soldiers guarding the second levels says.

“Okay, you two, go!” She tells the two still with her. “I’ll cover.”

They immediately begin descending downward. The sound of gunfire has vanished and Lynn can now only hear the shrieks and roar of the approaching night runners, a multitude of feet on the stairs as they descend quickly toward her. Lynn starts down as the first of the night runners appears on the intermediate landing above her, shrieking even louder upon discovering her there.

Lynn fires a burst into the crowd, three bullets leaving the barrel of her gun and striking the lead night runner across the chest. Blood spots blossom on the front of its torn, dirty white t-shirt with a large bright yellow smiley face as it tumbles, first backwards, and then forwards due to the push of the night runners behind it. Night runners behind trip on the body tumbling down the stairs, sprawling face first and sliding down the remaining stairs. Lynn rushes down the stairs two at a time, a few feet of separation gained.

Yelling down the stairs for anyone remaining in the stairwell to get into the lobby, she rounds the corner of the intermediate landing. The horde tramples over the bodies in their desperation to get to her. One of them is down for good, its chest riddled, and the others that tripped are out for the count. The first floor landing is empty with the exception of two soldiers in the hallway waiting for her; one holding the doorway and the other on his knees, weapon pointed at an angle down in front of him but in a position ready to raise it should he need.

Tearing out of the door with the mass of night runners closing, Lynn darts to the left heading for the safety of the sunlit lobby. She sees a line of soldiers facing her and the hallway she is heading down. Running across the glass shards littered on the ground, scattering some across the tiles, she raises the goggles and turns to face the night runners she imagines are fast on her heels. Jack’s right, they’re fast , she thinks in mid turn.

She spins around dropping to her knees, ready to both fire and retreat further if necessary. The door to the stairwell is closing slowly, slowed by the pneumatic lever. Nothing enters the hallway. The door is about to shut when a massive shriek sounds out, muffled by the closing door but reverberates down the hallway. Click. The door closes. The last tinkling of glass kicked across the lobby from their quick exit comes to a halt. Silence ensues. The only noise is her heavy breathing and that of the soldiers lined up next to her. Breathing hard from the adrenaline and fast run down the stairs. Adrenaline though still courses through her but slows as her body and senses recognize the danger receding. She checks her watch — 18:27. They were in for a little over an hour. The time seeming both longer and shorter.

“Everyone alright?” Lynn asks glancing from one soldier to another. Each one does the quick pat down and nods that they are fine.

“Let’s head outside and head back to the airfield,” she says in a deflated tone and feeling bad that they did not find what they came for.

Walking out of the open entrance door, Lynn hears the drone of an aircraft overhead. Looking up, she sees the 130 in a shallow left turn a short distance to the west, passing over the sun sinking close to treetop level.

“We’re out, Jack,” she calls over the radio.

“You okay?” She hears him ask.

“Yeah, we’re good,” she answers knowing he is asking about her personally and the group. “We’ll meet you back at the airfield.”

“Okay, see you there,” he says.

She watches the aircraft reverse its bank and heads back north towards the airfield, its gear dropping shortly thereafter as it begins a slow descent. Walking slowly to the lead pickup, the sweat not drying from her fatigues due to the still humid air, she sighs with both frustration and exhaustion. The tension slowly leaves her body and she wants nothing more than to lay down in peace.