I wrote this little bit earlier this month, but was inspired to post it from the other fiction writers here. Feel free to make comments and suggestions.
An old white van with a fake license plate drove up the isolated hill at speed, kicking dust into the still afternoon air. Despite the notifications on the side of the roadway to slow down, the van careened up the road with no regard for any potential traffic headed its way.
Inside, a set of eight men were crowded into the utility bay, with a further two up front dressed as phone company employees. The men in the back were strapped with every manner of small arm imaginable- AKs, AR derivatives, automatic shotguns, sub-machine guns, the works. Each man wore Kevlar vests and magazine pouches, as well as balaclavas to disguise their identities. As the van pulled to a stop outside a remote residence, the two men in front ripped off their disguises to reveal further armor and pulled on their own balaclavas. The man in the passenger seat removed an AKS-74U from the footwell and racked the slide, chambering a round.
“Showtime. Let’s move.”
Dave had gone back into the house with his axe when he heard the van pull up. Taking a quick peek through the blinds, he saw two teams of five men armed to the teeth and knew what he was in for.
I got lazy. I should have relocated again.
Dave took his axe and smashed open the wall of his house. Tearing open the insulation, he found a small bag that he looped over his left shoulder. Upon opening the clasp, he checked the contents- all his medical supplies were still there, as well as the forged passports and identification. He removed a Heckler and Koch USP in .40 caliber from the bag, complete with belt holster, and strapped it to his hip. It was un-silenced, but it would do. After all, what good would it do to have ear protection when he was already deaf?
He hurried to the door of his room, quietly opening it. He crept into the kitchen, bent low, walking on the sides of his feet in the manner of a deerstalker. Outside, the two teams had gone to opposite sides of the building. The tactics were familiar, as this was much how Dave would have planned the assault, minus of course the exposed nature of the beginning of the op by pulling up out front. Then again, owing to the remote location Dave had selected and the pointlessness of hunting him down after the Experimental City project was exposed, the assailants were likely irregular, with no easy means of procuring a helicopter for aerial insertion.
All in all, I was lucky. If they really wanted me dead, they could have committed more men to the grab, or simply blown the building. They want me alive and coherent.
The back door swung open as the first team of five men began to clear the house. Dave watched from behind a door through a small crack. They swept all sides of the room as they entered, keeping a loose formation and covering all possible angles.
Three men to clear the kitchen, and two headed my way.
Dave un-safed the USP as he hoisted it out of his holster. All these months of keeping a round in the chamber cocked and locked were about to pay off. The first man came through the door, covering left. Dave kicked the man’s leg and got his left arm around the man in a clothesline hold, using the USP’s barrel to break the man’s trigger finger and force him to drop his AK. Shifting his weight, he got the enemy operative between himself and the second man, attempting in vain at reasoning with Dave.
With speed, he got off a headshot to the second man, and then broke his hostage’s neck. The other three operators turned as Dave grabbed the hostage’s AKS-74U and opened fire. Bullets raked the kitchen and flung plaster shards and tile fragments into the air as the men dove for cover. Dave fired in short bursts, performing a mag dump of the AKS-74U in short order to keep the men pinned down. He ditched the AK and continued the suppressive fire with his USP as he made his way out the back.
They’re probably pulling the first team out of the front of the house now to pinch me at the back of my house. Gotta get to the shed and find my AR.
Dave slid down the short hill behind his house and ran, keeping low.
The leader’s radio crackled to life.
“Two men down. Package has escaped the net. Moving to engage.”
Damn it. I should have expected as much from David Xavier Malley. The man was practically a human weapon by the nature of his survival instincts and superior training.
If he wanted to get Dave alive, he had to act fast.
“Group the teams and rush. He’s going for more ammo, we need to stop him and fast. Hustle up.”
Dave kicked open the door of his toolshed and found the rifle case. He quickly unlocked it and grabbed his folding stock Barrett REC7 in 5.56mm NATO and several STANAG 4179 magazines, stuffing them in the pockets of his cargo jeans. Admittedly, Dave preferred heavier caliber rifles in a combat scenario, but used the NATO standard since it was uniformly used by the CCGK between their phased out M4 derivatives and the newer SCAR-L rifles. Problem was, the squad members of this assault team were all using different caliber weapons- AR rifles chambered in either 5.56mm or 6.8mm, 7.62x54R chambered, full size AKs, a 5.45x39mm AKS-74U, and at least two shotguns in 10 or 12 gauge. Such an armament was out of character for a CCGK team, which used a standardized caliber to its advantage by keeping a unified supply of ammunition for all squad members to draw on, lending credence to his theory that someone other than the organization was trying to make a grab, perhaps a terrorist group looking to gain infamy.
Next he put own his old Kevlar vest from the CCGK, draping the REC7’s sling over it. Between the belt holster and his sleight weight gain since his days in the CCGK, the vest was difficult to secure to his body.
He made his exit out a different door than the one he used to gain access to the shed, leading with his REC7 in the direction of his house. The assault team hadn’t closed the distance yet.
I’m out here, fellas. Come and get me.