Apache Dawn - - (classic fiction .TXT) 📗

past and vaulted over the makeshift barricade the agents had cobbled together. He raced down the corridor toward the far end, watching the doors on the right side. Jax, right behind the smaller SEAL, shouldered past carrying his massive twenty-pound M60 light machine gun. Swede scaled the barricade, dropped to a knee and covered the hallway, the smallish MP5 looked like a toy next to his large frame.

“Everyone, reload and check weapons; they’re not done yet!” Cooper ordered to the half-dozen steely eyed agents. A few agents, dressed in battle load-outs, rummaged grim-faced through the gear still strapped to their fallen comrades. The odd thing in Cooper’s mind was they did not hesitate or question his authority at all. They recognized the wisdom of his order, stranger or not.

“They’re going to come straight at us,” Cooper said quietly, “so get to the side of these doors here in front of you. Get ready…”

They could hear some noise and shouts from the other side of the three doors on the right side of the hallway. “They’re almost through,” Cooper whispered. “Charlie, go on my mark.”

The tiny bone phone in Cooper’s ear broke squelch twice: Charlie was ready. He shifted his carbine and raised it to his shoulder, waiting. The hallway was deathly quiet. Dust swirled in the air but was barely visible in the emergency light’s cone of illumination. Cooper’s vision, through his night-vision goggles, was bright as day, albeit green-tinted.

The door directly across from Cooper suddenly flew open with a crash, propelled forward by a foot. The North Korean soldier coming through never got his foot back on the ground. He landed flat on his back with two rounds to the face. Two more men charged forward to take his place, screaming like banshees. The next two doors down the corridor were smashed open with similar results. The SEALs and Secret Service agents easily dispatched the first targets to emerge.

“Go, go, go!” yelled Cooper. Suddenly, Charlie’s fireteam, advancing through the rooms behind the North Koreans, opened up on their unprotected rear elements. The flanking maneuver was crippled before they had a chance to execute. The rooms lit up with the sounds of gunfire and screams, accompanied by staccato flashes of light. Above it all, the booming voice of Jax’s M60 reverberated down the corridor.

Caught between Cooper and the agents in front of them and the meat grinder of Navy SEALs behind them, the North Korean squad was quickly dispatched into a bloody, quivering mess, adding to the already extensive carnage on the floor.

A few of the agents whooped in victory but not a single SEAL showed any sign of celebration. Always on mission, Cooper was gratified to see, his men immediately secured the perimeter and prepared for the next wave.

“Left flank secured,” reported Mike from down the hall.

“Right flank secured,” said Swede, watching the nurse’s station at the T-intersection of corridors.

“Center secured,” called out Jax.

“Friendlies coming in, hold your fire!” a voice yelled from inside one of the rooms used by the North Koreans in their ill-fated flanking maneuver.

“Hold your fire,” called out Cooper. “That’s my men coming in.” Four shadows silently moved through the butchery in the rooms in front of the defenders and emerged, scanning for threats, weapons up.

Cooper disengaged his night-vision goggles and stood, stretching his knee. The damn brace squeaked and he winced. “Mike, check the wounded. I don’t want any surprises.”

“On it,” replied Mike from down the corridor. He stood and methodically checked each body on the floor for a pulse. The third one he checked was alive. Without hesitation, he pulled his dive knife and plunged the 8” darkened blade into the soldier’s chest. The man stiffened and gurgled, a bubble of blood forming at his mouth. After the body relaxed, Mike twisted the blade and with a savage motion, ripped it free from the corpse. He moved to the next North Korean casualty in a low crouch and checked for a pulse.

“Jesus!” one of the wounded agents said, nursing a bandaged arm and propped against the wall. “What the hell was that for? That guy was half-dead already…”

“Well, now he’s full-dead,” was Mike’s grim reply. He crouched next to another body and checked it. “Chief said ‘No surprises.’ Only way we’ll be surprised now is if these assholes turn into zombies.” He grinned, his teeth white against a sweat-streaked, grimy face and moved on.

“I’m Sheffield, head of the President’s detail,” said the agent with the flashlight. Agent Sheffield looked back down the hallway where the partially destroyed nurse’s station sat in silence. He gestured at a North Korean body. “You guys sure know how to make an entrance.”

“Master Chief Braaten,” said Cooper. He scanned the battle scene and was rather impressed by what he saw. The handful of agents had held off a vastly superior force, judging by the numbers of bodies crumpled along the corridors in every direction. “Looks like you and your men put up a helluva fight.”

Sheffield grunted then blew out his breath and winced in pain. “We sure that’s the last of ‘em? Don’t have much ammo left.”

Cooper nodded. “Slipknot?”

Agent Sheffield looked at Cooper, as if deciding whether he could reveal such information. He smiled and wiped the blood from his cheek with the back of a grime-covered hand. “Not here. We’re the front line. We’ve got him in the basement in a makeshift ICU with a few doctors and the rest of my team. We wanted to draw their attention up here to the Critical Ward until we could get him out of the hospital.”

“Is he alive?” asked Cooper, switching magazines on his weapon.

“Yeah, but he contracted that super flu that’s going around. He’s in bad shape.”

“Shit.” Cooper looked around the demolished corridor leading to the bullet-riddled nurse’s station at the T.

“This is no bueno, man. We gotta move. Can you get your wounded on their feet? We need to regroup with the others and get Slipknot out of here—like, yesterday.”

“Something to do with the explosions we heard? Our comms went dead a while back and we haven’t heard from anyone till you guys showed up and tore through these assholes like Sherman through Atlanta,” said the President’s chief bodyguard as he helped another agent to his feet.

“Those weren’t just explosions. Fuckin’ missiles from offshore, hell maybe from orbit or something,” Cooper said. “We spotted at least one jet doing ground-attack runs. We lost comms just before we got here.”

Cooper paused. When he spoke next, it was in a quiet voice. “Walked into a damn trap and lost half my men.” He stared right at the SAC and added, “Last thing we heard was Apache Dawn has been activated.”

The agent paled, noticeable even in the dim, murky light. “Oh my God.” He turned to his men. “Apache Dawn is in effect! We have to get Slipknot and evacuate now!” Turning back to Cooper, he said, “Follow me, I’ll get us down to the basement.” The agents kicked themselves into gear, rushing to collect what weapons and ammo they could find before gathering up their wounded.

“I got our six,” said Charlie. “Sparky, on me!”

“Take ‘em out,” said Cooper to Agent Sheffield with a brief nod. He backed up against the wall as Agent Sheffield limped past. The remaining agents and SEALs followed closely, queued up behind Cooper. Charlie and Sparky took up trailing positions, walking backwards and scanning for threats from the rear.

It only took a few minutes of winding through darkened, deserted hallways and stepping over the bodies, busted-up equipment, and trash to make it to the basement. The North Koreans had really shot the hell out of the hospital. Cooper imagined the upper floors of the hospital must be crammed full of terrified civvies: patients, family members, doctors, nurses, and staff. He didn’t like leaving them behind, but his mission was to secure the President at all costs.

Once on the basement level, his advance guard was readily challenged by some nervous-looking agents in tactical gear. However, following recognition, the hard-pressed agents’ faces radiated relief. Cooper was again very impressed with the agents’ attention to detail—especially the expedient redoubt that had been constructed. Gurneys and equipment carts had been knocked over and positioned in such a way that if an enemy were to make it down here, they’d have to work their way through the obstructions in a zigzag pattern that would keep them exposed from many angles. The North Koreans would’ve paid dearly to fight through that maze of death.

The final ring of barricades was manned by agents with automatic shotguns, pistols, and even a few grenades. Cooper nodded as he walked past, carbine pointed at the ground.

He could see movement just beyond the semi-translucent plastic surgical tent that had been attached to assorted bits of HVAC equipment. Power to the lights and monitoring gear appeared to be provided by a curious tangle of cords leading from a few devices Cooper imagined had been hastily liberated from an operating room.

A short woman in teal-blue scrubs with auburn hair pulled into a loose ponytail glanced up from the bloodied agent she was tending to on the floor. She stood up, knuckling her back in a feline stretch and looked him over.

“Who the hell are you guys?”

“Navy SEALs, ma’am,” Cooper said, feeling heat rush into his face. Standing there before her in bloodied armor, tactical vest, helmet and black BDUs, he suddenly felt uncomfortable, like he was underdressed at a formal event. He looked around the makeshift ICU, cleared his throat, and refocused his attention.

“We heard you needed some assistance. Can you tell me where I can find the doctor tending to the President?”

“Yes. I’m one of them.” She smiled and adjusted the stray lock of hair that threatened to tumble down across her face. Cooper’s mouth went dry—she had lovely hair and that smile was the prettiest thing he’d seen on a night full of horror—but he chased his wandering thoughts away. Mission first, dammit.

The doctor whispered something to a passing nurse