GWOT The Sea Is Made Of Tears NI

GWOT The Sea Is Made Of Tears NI

We swept A. Not carefully, not the way a police SWAT team or an American squad of soldiers would do it. No dogs, no robots, no distraction devices. The hard way. The old way. No shields either. Not even grenades.

I had to keep yanking people back, physically, slowing them down so they wouldn't keep walking into fatal funnels until others were ready to back them up.

I couldn't take the time to stop and play medic.

Two Employees died of life threatening arterial bleeds I probably could have stopped.

I saved more than that by hauling them back by their belts.

The invaders did not retreat. They knew at least one military basic, that if you leave a building and try to run away across a mostly empty open space, such as our parking lot, you will be shot in the back on the way out.

(One particularly misguided fool tried to tell me, much later, that shooting people in the back running away is a war crime. Nothing could be further from the truth. Running away is a combatant act. Surrender, or drop your weapons and hold still and do nothing but try to bandage your own wounds, and only then you are protected by the laws of war. Running away is _not_ protected.)

This left us with three invaders still alive, shooting back around corners, in a corner of A that was against the hillside and therefore had no windows in the offices.

In a lull in the fire, I called out.

"Surrender and I'll guarantee your lives."

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Security."

"Fuck you, you have no authority."

"I have the authority to kill you all. I have the authority to let you go too. You have five minutes to make up your mind."

"You'll lose people digging us out."

I knew the answer to that one.

"You make us take unnecessary casualties, we will kill you."

No answer.

I set up a squad of armed Employees to keep them trapped. Then I went back and started searching attacker bodies. I found what I was looking for and returned.

"Come out or we blow you up!" I shouted.

The reply was a single burst of gunfire.

So I pulled the pin on the hand grenade and waited.

I don't know how it is for anyone else. But for me, when things get scary and deadly, time either slows down to molasses or speeds up to race cars on the track.

This time was molasses. I held in my hand a live hand grenade, with a pulled pin, meaning that a fuse of unknown length was burning in my hand. When the grenade detonated, if it was still in my hand, the shockwave would pulverize my body as it annihilated my arm. I would certainly not survive.

My mouth was moving.

"The owe saand own ee."

I could feel the smooth casing of the offensive grenade heating up in my hand. I could hear the breathing of the invader around the opposite corner.

"The owe sand ... "

... and time sped up the other way.

".. fire in the hole!" I finished, and flung the grenade, paused an instant, drew my pistol and followed it around the corner.

The grenade detonated, blasting panels and light fixtures off the ceiling and filling the corridor with white dust from the drywall.

Half a second sooner and the shockwave from my own grenade would have gotten me.

Two seconds later and the invaders in cover would have shot me repeatedly as I made my entry.

I couldn't hear. I could barely see.

But I could acquire targets, and shoot them.

A man starting to point a rifle at me lost his face and his helmet fell off the back of his empty skull.

A second man just finishing loading his rifle dropped it as arterial blood from the new holes in his neck sprayed across the wall.

A third man raised his empty hands, palms towards me and fingers spread.

I yanked my barrel to the right and put a single round through the wall next to his head.

My "Hands up!" and his "I surrender!" crossed each other in the air.

As I held him at gunpoint, an Employee came around the corner and leveled his shotgun.

Even knowing what would happen, I was too late to say or do anything to prevent it.

BOOM.

The pattern of buckshot erased the invader's face and spread hands.

"SHIT!" the Employee shouted.

I took the brief pause to change to a full magazine.

Then we consolidated. That was the last of them.

The female guard who had bravely held the breezeway earlier ran up to me.

"Sir. We need you, quick. Mr. Murphy is hit."

She swallowed.

"He's expectant."

My client.

Gunfire and explosions are no respecter of persons.

He's a casualty.

The female guard, found out later her name was Brooke, led me down the hallways, blood still congealing on her forehead.

Mr. Murphy was propped up against the wall, blood dribbling out one corner of his mouth. A terrified Employee, wearing only a bra above the waist, was pushing her blouse against his back. It was soaked with red.

As he breathed I could see the white of ribs and pink froth bubbling.

His eyes were still clear and bright. He weakly motioned with his off hand. His right hand was pushing a plastic sandwich bag over the innocent small hole on the left side of his chest.

I leaned over and met his eyes.

He let go of the baggie and grabbed my shirt with both his bloody hands.

"Save them!" he gasped. Then the blood rushed out the entry wound as well as the exit wound, he rattled briefly, and stopped breathing.

I grabbed his hands hard, pressing them to my shirt, and spoke clearly and loudly.

"I will, sir. I will."

His eyes glazed over and he sagged. The Employee attempting first aid propped him up, then when he was too heavy, let him slide to the side.

He let go of me. I put a hand over his forehead and closed his eyes.

The Employee whispered softly. "Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our Gawhd, the Lord is One."

I keyed my radio with bloody hands.

"Attention to orders. Security Emergency, South Gate, Building A. Mass casualty incident, South Gate, Building A and grounds. Scenes not secure. Say again, scenes not secure. Primary casualty collection point will be the B lobby. Say again, primary casualty collection point will be the B lobby. All employees trained in first aid or higher will converge on B lobby immediately. Break."

I took a deep breath.

"Security teams will assemble at A-B Breezeway with full weapons and gear for dispatch to locations. First in team will sweep A for enemy personnel. Second in team will respond Code 3 to the South Gate and establish perimeter control."

Beyond Mr. Murphy's body were three very dead guards. I had seen them briefly, earlier, three lifetimes ago, when I had ordered them to get rifles and hold the A-B Breezeway.

Mr. Murphy had taken control of them and taken them into the building instead.

His sudden sharp counterattack had broken the momentum of the intruders.

We had paid a heavy price. So had he.

Now it was up to me to make it worth it.