Friday, July 8, 2011

Chapter 19 - Micah

Chapter 19 - Micah

The night air hung warmly on top of the vacant storage building. At 15 stories high it remained the tallest building within a 20 block radius. It gave a clear view of the apartment building and most of the ATS forces. Blake sat silently as Gabe read off the distances to the three com stations as he peered through the GPS binoculars.  
“The closest one is at 100 yards then next is 459 yards and the last is 937 yards.”
“The first two should be easy,” I commented. “The third will be a lot harder. Even if the conditions stay perfect like they are.”
Visibility was high and the air almost uncomfortably still. The third target lied in a straight line. If we startled them, and they started moving, the shot would be next to impossible.
We continued waiting in silence for the signal from Alba. Spurts of rapid gunfire sounded through the hot air. From my vantage point I could see that the ATS hadn’t gained any ground on the rebels, but it didn’t look like that would last much longer.  Blake’s radio briefly snapped to life. Three short clicks followed by two longer ones and then silence again.
“That was it,” Blake called out. “It’s go time.”
I leveled my rifle and peered through the scope as I tried to calm my breathing. Two targets stood at each com station. I needed clean shots on the first 2 stations to have any chance at the last. The first guard turned sideways, locked in conversation with his battery mate. I smoothly pulled the trigger. He crumpled to the ground. His partner swivelled around, frantically searching for an enemy. I pulled the trigger again He fell just a second after his partner. I moved the scope to my second target, hoping some of the rebel gunfire drowned out the loud crack of my rifle. The two guards at the second station appeared unaware of their comrades’ sudden migration out of this life. I leveled the sights then pulled the trigger in quick succession, taking out both men almost in the same motion. I turned my attention to the last target, 937 yards away. Gabe checked the wind again.
“You’re good. Fire at will.”
One guard at the third target was trying to contact someone with his radio. It didn’t look like anyone responded. With time running out on the third station, I had to shoot faster than that type of shot required. I needed more than just skill. I needed a considerable amount of luck. I pulled the trigger and watched the 5th guard fall to the ground. His partner was sitting at the other side of his station eating a sandwich. Before I reacted he ran behind the truck to access the radio. His head peaked out from the truck. I pulled the trigger but the extra flight time of the bullet gave the guard enough time to duck back behind the truck.
“What happened?”
“I missed.”
I pulled my head away from the scope and tried to quickly assess the situation. The guard couldn’t reach the radio without exposing himself to my sniper fire, but I only had 15 or 20 seconds before I assumed he would make a run for it dodging behind buildings, leaving no opportunity for a shot. My eyes scanned the area, looking for a break. Ten seconds passed and the guard hadn’t moved. 5 more seconds. Smoke rose from the jeep behind the station where my armor piercing bullets had penetrated. I fired a shot at the gas tank. Clear liquid streamed from the hole. Three seconds passed. The jeep exploded in a rush of flames.
“Got him!” I shouted
“Can you confirm that Gabe?”
Gabe stared through the binoculars, “Nothing’s moving down there. We got him.”
Blake picked up his radio and signaled 3 long clicks followed by 2 short ones.
Gabe continued to watch the action through his binoculars. “Looks like the ATS is retreating right into the new rebels. Lets get out of here.”
Cold steel pressed against the back of my neck. I backed away from my gun and held up my hands in defense. Gabe dropped his binoculars and reached for his weapon.
“Don’t move. The bullet will tear through his spinal chord at this angle. He’ll be a vegetable.” Blake dropped a pair of handcuffs and slid them across the ground. Gabe set down his gun and placed the cuffs on his wrists. “I tried to keep you off the mission, Gabe. I didn’t want you to get mixed up in this. If you stay here until we’re gone, you can walk free.”
“You son of a biscuit eating bulldog!” Gabe glared at the traitor.
Blake flinched. I tried knocking the gun out of his hands. I moved too late. He slammed the gun into the back of my head. Darkness threatened to cut off my vision. I fell to my hands and knees, fighting to stay conscious. My eyes stared straight at the knees of my attacker. I weakly tried to swipe at his ankle. I heard a faint chuckle. He rammed the gun butt into my head. A lone gunshot fired somewhere in the distance. My face hit the cold cement. The blackness enveloped me.

1 comment:

  1. Interesting! I was telling my husband that I was reading a soap opera, and this is kind of what this feels like. Don't take that in a bad way-I'm kind of old and when I was young and newly married, soap operas were the big think on TV and they were basically clean back then and full of adventure and people getting double-crossed and killed and stuff. If there are any on anymore, I doubt they're still like that. Micah was just double-crossed, and I can't wait to find out why.