James Tarr - Dogsoldiers

“Lot of people who aren’t Tabs walking around, too,” Chan added. “High probability of collateral damage. Plus, there’s no way to get anywhere close without being spotted. Normally.”

Morris nodded. “That too. Well, hopefully the civilians won’t get it too hard, but for this plan to work we need as many of those people in and around Nakatomi as panicked and scared as possible—when the time is right.” He frowned at the map, then shrugged and looked around at the squad leaders. “At least on this op, for once, you’ll be able to use battlefield pickups.”

The last three hundred yards had been a nightmare. The sewer pipe had been less than three feet in diameter. They’d had to take off their backpacks and drag them behind as they went, hands and feet getting bruised and scraped on the cement. It was either that or do the trek aboveground which, while quicker, would have gotten them spotted almost immediately. Weasel, Renny, and a young man whose name Ed couldn’t remember were the only ones able to avoid the crawl, and waved the rest of the men on.

Ed was in the middle of the squad, and it seemed to take an eternity of crawling—drag pack, move hands, knees, drag pack, repeat forever—until the pipe before him suddenly opened into a large earthen hole filled with jagged pipes and chunks of concrete. He blinked at the light and looked up to see several people staring down at him. Chan stepped halfway down the steep slope and offered Ed his hand. Ed was too tired to even thank the man, he just took the hand.

It took five minutes for the rest of the squads to crawl out of the pipe and be helped out of the hole. They found themselves in a large concrete-walled storage area lit by several bare bulbs. The space was filled with bodies, as Theodore and Flintstone had finally rendezvoused with Kermit, Yosemite, and Sylvester. Ed looked around at the exhausted faces of his men, then checked his watch. They’d made it with nearly three hours to spare.

“Everyone get something to eat, and drink, and then get some rest. You’re going to need it.”

After checking on all his people and conferring with the other squad leaders, Ed sat down to doublecheck his gear. He woke up with Chan shaking his shoulder. “Forty-five minutes,” Chan told him. Ed sat blinking for a few seconds, trying to clear his head.

Chan and his squad had arrived two hours before Theodore. They’d come in a completely different route, as had Kermit and Sylvester, just in case. Physically their route had been less taxing, but Yosemite’s last two hundred yards had been above-ground. Luckily they’d done it before four a.m., and not been spotted in the dark. Ed went to stand up and his mouth opened in pain.

“Shouldn’t have sat down and stopped moving?” Chan asked him, recognizing the look.

“Shouldn’t have sat down and stopped moving,” Ed agreed. His whole body ached and was stiff, like he’d been in a high-speed car wreck. His clothing had stuck to raw spots of skin but peeled off when he’d moved, like ripping off a scab. Scabs. Once again Chan held out his hand and helped Ed to his feet.

Brooke and Barker were talking to a man Ed didn’t recognize, and he walked over to them, glad to be, at least temporarily, free of the weight of his pack. The man was in a security uniform, with a pistol on his hip. The nametag on his breast read RICO.

“Right now everything’s locked up,” the man was saying, “but I can get you from here to where you need to be in about two minutes.”

“We’re going to be carrying a lot of gear,” Barker told him. “Moving slow.”

“Two and a half minutes, then.” Rico had a head shaved to stubble, his skin the color of milk chocolate. He flashed a bright smile. “Tunnel’s on this level. Second floor walkway to New Center One is up some stairs and down a hall.”

“I’m not convinced the radio will reach from the end of that tunnel across the street all the way to where you planned on staging,” Ed told Brooke. “Underground, then up three stories through a building?”

“Good point.” She thought for a second. “How about I leave a guy at this end of the tunnel, as a runner? When you transmit, he’ll get it, then run up to us. With no backpack, it shouldn’t take him more than thirty seconds?” She looked to the guard for confirmation.

“Right,” Rico said.

“What’s your plan after you let us through?” Barker asked him.

The guard stuck a thumb at the crater in the basement floor. “A hole this big, they’re going to know I knew about it. I’m getting the fuck out of the city. I’ve got family down south, I’m going to try to get there.

“We could always use another man,” Brooke said.

The guard shook his head. “I did my part. I wish ya’ll the best, but I’m not a soldier. I haven’t had to kill anybody yet, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Fair enough, this’ll have to do,” Ed said. Brooke had a sour expression on her face and gave Ed a dirty look, but he just shrugged.

Ed wasn’t aware of a man or woman in the five squads who wasn’t a combat veteran, but as he walked around the big room the stress and worry and fear was visible on their faces, even if they tried to hide it with smiles or anger or blankness. Some just sat there looking at nothing, alone with their thoughts, some joked, others compulsively cleaned their weapons a fourth time. He squeezed a shoulder here, gave a nod there, a small smile, a thumbs up, exchanged a few meaningless words of small talk, whatever it took.

When the time came the men grudgingly shrugged on their heavy backpacks and shouldered their other gear, then trudged out of the basement storage room. Rico led them down a short corridor, then used a key to open some glass doors. Just past them sheets of plywood had been nailed up, but Rico had removed two of them just the day before.

“Nothing in there but dust and mold,” Rico said as one of the men shone his flashlight inside. “Tunnel’s about fifty yards long. There’s a right turn, then a left near the far end.” He waved at the doors in front of them. “Got the same setup on the other side. I checked yesterday, and all the wood on the other side is still up, but one of the sheets seemed real loose.”

Ed nodded, and checked his watch. Five minutes. He turned to all the expectant faces behind him, and pointed through the doors. “You all know the plan. Theodore, Flintstone, Kermit and Chan into the tunnel. You can use lights, but quiet as fucking mice.” Chan was right there beside him, and the two men turned to Brooke, who was nearby with her squad. Ed held out his hand. “See you when I see you,” he told her.

She snorted, ignored the hand, and came in for a hug, first with him, then Chan. The fact all of them were wearing armored plate carriers and festooned with pouches stuffed with heavy and angular gear made it the least intimate hug Ed had ever gotten, which made him smile.

The four squads, twenty-nine men and three women, made their way into the dark tunnel, their feet kicking up thick dust. Brooke stationed her youngest (and presumably fastest) squad member at the mouth of the tunnel, divvying up his gear with the rest of the squad, leaving him just his rifle and his body armor. “All right, get us to that walkway,” she told Rico the guard.

Ed walked slowly through the tunnel, stifling a sneeze from the dust. He wasn’t using a light—he didn’t need to, as seemingly half the people clustered ahead of him were using theirs.

“Shut those goddamn lights off,” he hissed, wading his way between the men toward the far end of the tunnel. He stopped an arm’s length away from the wood, and as the last flashlight beam flicked off he could see an dim outline of light around the sheets of plywood in front of him. He couldn’t see the men around and behind him, but he could hear them breathing. And smell them. He sighed and tried to calm his heartbeat. All four squads, clustered together like that… the tunnel would be a death trap for them, if something went wrong, if there’d been a betrayal. Three grenades and a long burst of automatic weapons fire would kill them all.