John O'Brien - Return

My onward charge and onslaught causes them to slow down in a confused manner. Sometimes, when things seem hopeless, it is better to charge quickly and violently causing fear to surface in the opposing forces. This can cause them to become momentarily paralyzed and not be able to react or to react with haste without a thought or focus on what they are doing. The night runners have never seen their prey act like this and charge toward them in such a violent manner. Some have actually stopped and are beginning to retreat backwards into the rooms from which they came. A few others however continue coming only to be brought down with their heads absorbing rounds and exploding in some manner or another. The floor below me is slippery with blood and gore.

Closer to the building now, the sound emanating can be heard only slightly better but with a definite clarity to them. They are definitely gunshots and are coming in a near continuous fashion. A firefight is being waged inside. Not the deafening roar of yesterday in the stairwell but one regardless.

“Okay everyone, to the entrance door but no further,” Lynn says realizing that, with the sounds of gunfire coming from within, their own quietness is now a moot factor.

She wants to be as close as they can get in case Jack calls for them. She also knows not to enter unless called for as it can get very messy if Jack does not know they are coming. That is how friendly fire accidents happen. He’ll call if he needs , she thinks crossing the street and hastens to the entrance with the others behind.

“If we’re called, Black Team will lead followed by Green. Horace, you bring up the rear and keep our six clear. Same as before, we’ll drop off two at each landing to cover our withdrawal. Questions?” Lynn adds as they draw near the broken entrance doors.

“Hooah, First Sergeant,” they all respond.

The hall in front of me clears momentarily. I see the glass wall close ahead. A gap has been created. A small one but big enough. I dart through, not having given up on my momentum. The night runners behind me are closing in like a rush toward a concert stage. My little area of the world is about to become a mosh pit. I see a flash of darkness off to the side as a night runner launches out of one of the rooms, coming close in behind me. I feel its fingers grab the upper shoulder strap of my tac vest, almost causing me to lose my footing on the slippery floor; slowing my momentum. I turn the M-4 behind me flipping to the selector switch to burst, sense where the night runner must be by how its fingers are grabbing my vest, and fire. The kick is a bit stronger from the one-handed over the shoulder shot and the barrel moves quite a bit. Blood splashes on my neck and cheek. Oh great! I think hearing a howl of pain and a tug on my shoulder as the night runner falls to the floor. I am thankful its fingers didn’t lock on and drag me down with it. That was the last of my rounds.

I swing the carbine back, thumbing the mag release with my right hand and grab a full mag with my left. The glass wall and door are now only a few feet in front of me. Just a few steps away. I jam the fresh mag in the receiver and flip the bolt release, chambering a round. Bringing the gun up, I fire a burst into the glass pane to the right of the double doors. My thought is that the larger pane of glass there will shatter easier than the smaller panes that make up the doors. My bullets hit the glass and go through, cracks spreading outward from each hole. I sure wish this was fully auto , I think sending another burst close to the first but letting it track upward slightly. The glass remains in place. A third burst a little more to the side and then a fourth away from that one. Twelve holes now fill the glass pane in a box-like pattern with cracks radiating out from each hole.

I duck my right shoulder, with my M-4 out in front, just before I impact the glass at a full run; tucking my head in and down at the last moment, my left hand coming up to my temple and left arm covering my throat and eyes. The impact is jarring and the sound of breaking glass fills my ears, drowning out the shrieks of the oncoming horde. Stumbling through the glass pane, which is now coming down and raining glass on the tile and carpeting, I continue into the room and toward the door between the two large desks. The strap holding my goggles is surprisingly still in place. Below the large wooden door, a thin strip of light shows from underneath. I fire three quick bursts into the jamb by the door handle. I just don’t have time to knock. Nor do I have time to check to see if it is locked. I realize this is using up ammo that I may need should the door not open, but honestly, at this point, I could have one of the endless mags from the movies and it still would not do that much good. I would only be prolonging the inevitable and the ending would still be the same. Building my speed back up, I hit the door, once again with my shoulder. The door latch and jamb gives way and the door flies open.

I do not think I have ever been greeted by a more pleasant sight. Sunlight is pouring into the room from large glass window panes that make up the outside of the building, bathing the room in light. And blinding the shit out of me! I turn off and flip the NVG’s up, my eyes adjusting to the brilliant light.

My heart is pounding in my chest, both from the sprint down the hallway and from adrenaline coursing through my body. I turn towards the open office door, thinking I am safe but wanting my eyes to verify it. The large wooden door remains open spilling light into the reception area and across the blue carpeting in a fan-like pattern. The door jamb is splintered where I both shot and forced it open. Small pieces of wood on the carpet below look like a box of matches has been spilled. The edge of the light/dark demarcation glitters faintly from the glass on the floor, evidence of my grand entrance. Next time I’ll try the door , I think looking at the shattered glass and then further into the hall.

The hall remains filled with shrieking although not like the tremendous roar that filled it moments before. An occasional ghost-like shape or face materializes for moments in the reflected light before disappearing in the darkness. Not a single one tries to enter into the light cast by the open door or enter into my momentary sanctuary. I walk over and ease the door closed, trying to diminish both the volume of noise and shut out the last few moments of my life — which quite literally almost became the last few moments of my life.

“I’m here in the director’s office,” I say pressing down on the radio transmit button.

“Was that gunfire we heard?” I hear Lynn respond.

“Yeah, it was a little sporty getting here,” I answer.

“Can you get out okay?” She asks.

“I think so.”

“How?”

“Well, I’ll let you know in a little bit,” I say feeling the adrenaline begin to fade.

“Okay Jack. Glad you’re safe,” Lynn says with relief in her voice.

“You and me both. I’ll let you know what I find here,” I say beginning to take in the office surroundings.

The deep, rich blue carpeting of this large office gives it a feeling of luxury as it mixes with the dark, highly polished executive desk sitting close to the window. The same rich paneling found in the lobby covers the walls with luxurious bookshelves lining one wall adding to this ambience. Two brown leather chairs, the kind you never want to get out of once you sit in them, sit parked on the carpet facing the desk. A large polished table meant for gatherings sits across the room from the bookshelves. The view outside is not all that it could be, but it sure is a sight better than I have ever had the privilege of calling my own. It is also a sight for my sore eyes after what they witnessed moments before.