DEADLY DILEMMA by Dan Stratman (story read aloud .txt) 📗

off the solid walls in the confined space. Pierce crawled back to safety and added to the fusillade of firepower.

Bullets pinged off the massive blast door like annoying gnats. The ones that made it through the opening shattered after hitting the steel-reinforced capsule walls. Lead fragments and bits of concrete whizzed by the missileers, creating even more lethal threats to their survival.

Cyndi dragged Lance away from the opening, leaving behind a trail of blood. She lay across his prone body to protect him. “Lance, can you hear me? Are you okay?” she whispered.

“Been better,” he answered through clenched teeth. Lance was clutching his right thigh. When he pulled his hands away, thick crimson liquid coated them. Two holes in the leg of his flight suit were leaking blood. The bullet had passed through his upper thigh, missing the femoral artery by mere inches.

Cyndi propped him up against the wall. She grabbed the first aid kit and wrapped the wound with gauze. When he was lucid enough to become aware of his surroundings, Cyndi sat next to him and cradled him in her arms. “Why did you do that? You’re so stupid. You could’ve been killed.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he weakly replied.

“No.”

Lance forced a grin. “If you got shot, who’d teach yoga class?”

Cyndi looked lovingly into his deep brown eyes and shook her head. “You have the worst comedic timing of anyone I’ve ever met.” Despite her annoyance with his ill-timed sense of humor, she leaned down and planted a kiss on his lips. When their lips parted, she asked, “Can you shoot?”

“I think so.” He pulled himself over to the edge of the blast door and squeezed off a few rounds.

All this accomplished was to draw a fresh barrage of lead from the Delta team again.

Cyndi and Lance returned fire as best they could, given the overwhelming firepower they faced. The few remaining ceiling lights were shot out. They ejected their empty clips, jammed in their last ones, and continued firing.

The entire underground fortress was filled with gun smoke. The dark, hazy conditions made it impossible to see their targets down the hallway. Cyndi slowly angled her head closer to the blast door, squinting, straining to see through all the smoke. Great, she thought, this place was going to be my crypt.

Cyndi fired off a few more errant shots then pulled back behind the door. “This isn’t working.”

“We’re just wasting ammo,” Lance responded.

“Hold your fire, I’m going to find a way out of here.”

Not hearing any shots, the team members slowly crept out from behind their cover. Four large figures entered the smokey hallway. They crouched down and advanced toward the LCC.

Lance saw movement in the hallway. He turned to Cyndi and excitedly announced, “Here they come!”

O’Brian and Jackson lead the team down the hallway.

“Hurry!” Lance yelled.

Out of ideas, and nearly out of ammo, Cyndi searched the LCC. In an act of desperation, she grabbed a fire extinguisher off its wall bracket and hurtled it down the hall.

Unable to discern what the metal object was that was bouncing toward them, O’Brian panicked and yelled, “Grenade!”

The four men dove for the floor and scrambled back to safety.

“What the hell is that supposed to do?” Lance asked with a puzzled look.

“Trust me,” Cyndi replied.

Seconds ticked by as they peered out into the smoky hallway.

An overdose of adrenaline coursed through the veins of the hyper-aggressive alpha males. They were programmed for action, and now they were reduced to cowering behind doorframes, waiting for the next move from a couple of wimpy missileers.

Ultimately, their colossal egos got the best of them.

O’Brian jumped up. “I’ve had enough of this. We’re coming for you, assholes!”

He and Jackson sprinted toward the LCC.

Chapter Thirty-Two

“Now!” Cyndi screamed.

The two took aim at the fire extinguisher and let loose a volley of lead.

Just before exhausting their final clips, the pressurized vessel exploded, spewing out white powder and a shower of jagged shrapnel.

Pierce instinctively turned away from the blast, using his helmet to shield his face. When he attempted to get up, he felt a searing pain in his leg. A hot chunk of metal had imbedded itself in his calf. Without so much as a wince of pain, he yanked it out and tossed it aside. The team leader crawled across the floor until reaching the safety of the small room. Once inside, he tilted his head out of the doorway and whispered, “Team, report your status.”

“Good to go,” Lopez replied from the room across the hall.

Ominous silence filled the damp air. Burned sulfur from the gunpowder had filled the space with a repulsive smell similar to rotten eggs.

Pierce squinted, trying to see through the dim haze.

“O’Brian. Jackson. Report your status!” he repeated in a stern but hushed voice.

No response.

The phrase fog of war was never more valid than here in this subterranean battlefield. The dim hallway was filled with gun smoke, white extinguisher agent, dust, and fumes from the console fire. Intelligent tactical decisions became nearly impossible.

“That bitch!” Pierce blurted out. Absent a response from his men, Pierce didn’t waste any time mourning their fate. He assumed they were dead and proceeded with his original plan. He flashed hand signals at Lopez.

The few bulbs that remained lit in the LCC provided a glaring backdrop in contrast to the dark hallway. Pierce and Lopez unleashed another barrage of bullets on the opening.

Cyndi and Lance stayed safely tucked behind the partially closed blast door as the bullets flew. Fragments from the rounds struck the phone hanging on the wall, shattering it.

She reached up and flipped off the light switch, plunging the entire underground complex into total darkness.

The operators reacted by simply lowering their helmet-mounted night-vision goggles over their eyes. The pitch-black scene took on an eerie green glow. They continued firing into the LCC, creating a blinding strobe light effect with their muzzle flashes.

Cyndi took a small penlight flashlight out of her flight suit pocket and shined it at Lance. He was slumped back against the wall. The temporary field dressing on