Chapter Four
The room was silent. Pictures covered the wall along the stairway. The upper hallway was empty, the lower room was still. The wall of windows was clear.
And then, as sudden as that, the windows exploded. Glass flew inward, as did a muscular man, firing as he fell.
The black crows followed him, though two exploded to the man's shots. He landed on his back on the stairs, dog tags jangling. But the man was tough – "one tough mofo," one had said – and rolled to his feet despite pecks, cuts and bruises. He grabbed the banister, vaulted over, and shot three more crows in midair. His soles hit the wood, planks cracking, and were the only parts of his body not immediately attacked by the swarming birds. They picked at his bare arms, exposed neck, vulnerable face. He struck at them blindly, eyes closed, too many to shoot. He ran, banged into a wall, bounced into another, and guessed he was in a hallway. He hit a door and grabbed at the doorknob – it was locked.
"Open up, you!" He twisted the doorknob, hammered the door. The birds were becoming unbearable. Finally, slamming his weight against it, he felt the cheap lock break, as well as most of the knob. The door opened, he fell through, and slammed it behind him. Only a few crows followed him - the exact amount for payback. He grabbed two and slammed them against the wall. He reached out, plucked another, and crushed it in a bear hug, feeling its ribs shatter. He smacked the last right out of the air, bringing his foot down on it hard. And that was all.
Enemies gone, time to recuperate – he had to recuperate, rest in case of later attack…Billy Coen slumped against the door, reloading his handgun. Five minutes, and then he'd be moving again.
As if to compensate for the growling and barking from outside, Bravo team was silent. Richard, wiping his face on his T-shirt sleeve, looked at his comrades hopelessly. Enrico stared intently at the doors, as if expecting one of the dogs to spontaneously figure out how to use doorknobs. Edward reloaded his gun, taking care not to get rainwater into the magazine. Kenneth had his gun pointed at the door, perhaps fearful of the same thing as Enrico. Forest just sat on the floor, and though Richard couldn't hear him over the howling, he could tell he was panting heavily just by his movements. It reminded Richard of his girlfriend's budgies, whenever they got spooked; his chest sucked in and out at a rapid pace.
"Wow, man," Kevin said, on his back and clutching at his calf. "This place is…this place is big. Fricken huge."
It was true. Richard turned in a circle. Just the lobby was a cavernous room with two levels, that could fit his whole house and a lot of room to spare. If the entire mansion is like this, Richard thought to himself, we've got a lot of exploring to do.
"No, really, this is gigantic," Kevin continued, unnecessarily. "Why am I paying three hundred bucks a month for a roach infested closet when these cannibal guys get this house for free?" The co-pilot gave a sickly grin.
Edward looked over at him. "We've just been trapped in hostile territory by countless bloodthirsty dogs, and you're thinking of real estate?" His tone was poisonous. He rammed his new magazine home with a loud clack.
Kevin gave another grin, and kept it despite the gasp he omitted a second later. He squeezed his leg tighter, blood dribbling over and between his fingers. "Just joking through the pain…could Rebecca come over, please?" He looked around, then a look of alarm came over his face. "Where's Rebecca?" he demanded, staring at Kenneth. Kenneth avoided his eyes, shrinking into himself.
"Rebecca, she's…" his tongue locked.
"No," Kevin breathed, colour draining from his already pale face.
"She's dead," said Edward, eyes hard. "She encountered an enemy, and next thing I saw her throat was ripped out." It was common knowledge in the STARS that, while Edward wasn't a sociopath, he wasted no compassion on the dead. He turned to Enrico. "Captain, if we don't start moving soon, we're next. We're knee deep in enemy territory and nowhere to go but deeper. If you could give us a plan?…"
Enrico's brow furrowed, still staring at the doors. After a moment he spoke. "Okay, here's the situation. We've got no communications, no backup, and nothing but our sidearms. We have tougher stuff back at the chopper, but outside this house are attack dogs, far too many to engage. We don't know who or what are inside this house, and we've lost the element of surprise, but if we go outside we're dead. What's more, we're Bravo Team – we've got two pilots, a chemist, a radio expert and a sniper in a close quarters situation. Our medic is incapacitated and one of our pilots is wounded. Things look bad."
Enrico closed his eyes, rubbed his temples, and turned to face his team. "But we're still STARS. We are police. We are going to investigate this mansion and arrest anyone we find. But to do that, we have to split up. Do you all have your radios?"
Kenneth frowned. "No. I dropped it."
Kevin gulped. Since the report of Rebecca's death, he had suddenly seemed ten degrees worse off. "I left mine in the chopper."
Everyone else had theirs. "Alright, we can work with that. Forest, give Kenneth your radio." The sniper handed the device over without complaint. "You all have your sidearms?…Good. Alpha will be after us eventually, until then we have to secure this area. Kenneth, you go through those doors there." Enrico pointed to double doors on the west side of the room. Then he turned, pointed at matching doors on the other end of the lobby. "Richard – I want you to check that out. Edward, Forest, you take the above floor up there. I'll stay here with Kevin, see what I can do about that bleeding. I think I can bandage it up, but I'm not Rebecca, so I don't think he's going anywhere fast. Now, I want everyone to keep quiet. Don't use the radio unless you absolutely have to, our batteries are limited and this place looks big. You're all smart, so rely on your own judgement. Any questions?" Everyone shook their heads. Enrico smiled, his tired expression cracking. "Excellent. Move out."
The room was silent. Pictures covered the wall along the stairway. The upper hallway was empty, the lower room was still. The wall of windows was clear.
And then, as sudden as that, the windows exploded. Glass flew inward, as did a muscular man, firing as he fell.
The black crows followed him, though two exploded to the man's shots. He landed on his back on the stairs, dog tags jangling. But the man was tough – "one tough mofo," one had said – and rolled to his feet despite pecks, cuts and bruises. He grabbed the banister, vaulted over, and shot three more crows in midair. His soles hit the wood, planks cracking, and were the only parts of his body not immediately attacked by the swarming birds. They picked at his bare arms, exposed neck, vulnerable face. He struck at them blindly, eyes closed, too many to shoot. He ran, banged into a wall, bounced into another, and guessed he was in a hallway. He hit a door and grabbed at the doorknob – it was locked.
"Open up, you!" He twisted the doorknob, hammered the door. The birds were becoming unbearable. Finally, slamming his weight against it, he felt the cheap lock break, as well as most of the knob. The door opened, he fell through, and slammed it behind him. Only a few crows followed him - the exact amount for payback. He grabbed two and slammed them against the wall. He reached out, plucked another, and crushed it in a bear hug, feeling its ribs shatter. He smacked the last right out of the air, bringing his foot down on it hard. And that was all.
Enemies gone, time to recuperate – he had to recuperate, rest in case of later attack…Billy Coen slumped against the door, reloading his handgun. Five minutes, and then he'd be moving again.
As if to compensate for the growling and barking from outside, Bravo team was silent. Richard, wiping his face on his T-shirt sleeve, looked at his comrades hopelessly. Enrico stared intently at the doors, as if expecting one of the dogs to spontaneously figure out how to use doorknobs. Edward reloaded his gun, taking care not to get rainwater into the magazine. Kenneth had his gun pointed at the door, perhaps fearful of the same thing as Enrico. Forest just sat on the floor, and though Richard couldn't hear him over the howling, he could tell he was panting heavily just by his movements. It reminded Richard of his girlfriend's budgies, whenever they got spooked; his chest sucked in and out at a rapid pace.
"Wow, man," Kevin said, on his back and clutching at his calf. "This place is…this place is big. Fricken huge."
It was true. Richard turned in a circle. Just the lobby was a cavernous room with two levels, that could fit his whole house and a lot of room to spare. If the entire mansion is like this, Richard thought to himself, we've got a lot of exploring to do.
"No, really, this is gigantic," Kevin continued, unnecessarily. "Why am I paying three hundred bucks a month for a roach infested closet when these cannibal guys get this house for free?" The co-pilot gave a sickly grin.
Edward looked over at him. "We've just been trapped in hostile territory by countless bloodthirsty dogs, and you're thinking of real estate?" His tone was poisonous. He rammed his new magazine home with a loud clack.
Kevin gave another grin, and kept it despite the gasp he omitted a second later. He squeezed his leg tighter, blood dribbling over and between his fingers. "Just joking through the pain…could Rebecca come over, please?" He looked around, then a look of alarm came over his face. "Where's Rebecca?" he demanded, staring at Kenneth. Kenneth avoided his eyes, shrinking into himself.
"Rebecca, she's…" his tongue locked.
"No," Kevin breathed, colour draining from his already pale face.
"She's dead," said Edward, eyes hard. "She encountered an enemy, and next thing I saw her throat was ripped out." It was common knowledge in the STARS that, while Edward wasn't a sociopath, he wasted no compassion on the dead. He turned to Enrico. "Captain, if we don't start moving soon, we're next. We're knee deep in enemy territory and nowhere to go but deeper. If you could give us a plan?…"
Enrico's brow furrowed, still staring at the doors. After a moment he spoke. "Okay, here's the situation. We've got no communications, no backup, and nothing but our sidearms. We have tougher stuff back at the chopper, but outside this house are attack dogs, far too many to engage. We don't know who or what are inside this house, and we've lost the element of surprise, but if we go outside we're dead. What's more, we're Bravo Team – we've got two pilots, a chemist, a radio expert and a sniper in a close quarters situation. Our medic is incapacitated and one of our pilots is wounded. Things look bad."
Enrico closed his eyes, rubbed his temples, and turned to face his team. "But we're still STARS. We are police. We are going to investigate this mansion and arrest anyone we find. But to do that, we have to split up. Do you all have your radios?"
Kenneth frowned. "No. I dropped it."
Kevin gulped. Since the report of Rebecca's death, he had suddenly seemed ten degrees worse off. "I left mine in the chopper."
Everyone else had theirs. "Alright, we can work with that. Forest, give Kenneth your radio." The sniper handed the device over without complaint. "You all have your sidearms?…Good. Alpha will be after us eventually, until then we have to secure this area. Kenneth, you go through those doors there." Enrico pointed to double doors on the west side of the room. Then he turned, pointed at matching doors on the other end of the lobby. "Richard – I want you to check that out. Edward, Forest, you take the above floor up there. I'll stay here with Kevin, see what I can do about that bleeding. I think I can bandage it up, but I'm not Rebecca, so I don't think he's going anywhere fast. Now, I want everyone to keep quiet. Don't use the radio unless you absolutely have to, our batteries are limited and this place looks big. You're all smart, so rely on your own judgement. Any questions?" Everyone shook their heads. Enrico smiled, his tired expression cracking. "Excellent. Move out."
