Chapter 8 - Firefight in the Midnight Fog
The ambient streetlights outside the living room window suddenly vanished, plunging the entire neighborhood block into absolute pitch blackness.
The power grid had been cut from the street transformer, an unmistakable tactical signature of a professional breach team.
"Down, both of you, now!" I hissed, grabbing Evelyn by the shoulder and forcing her down behind the reinforced brick fireplace.
Before the words completely left my lips, the front window shattered inward in an explosion of flying glass and splintered wood.
Two heavy, cylindrical objects crashed onto the living room carpet, hissing violently as thick white smoke poured into the room.
Flashbangs.
"Close your eyes and cover your ears!" Maya screamed through the dark.
A split second later, a twin concussive roar ripped through the house, shattering the remaining window panes and shaking the foundation.
The blinding white flash burned through my closed eyelids, followed by an ear-splitting pressure wave that left my ears ringing with high-pitched static.
Through the acrid white fog, the front door was kicked off its frame with a splintering crash.
Two dark silhouettes clad in black tactical body armor and night-vision goggles stepped into the hallway, their suppressed carbines raised to low-ready.
They moved with military precision, clearing corners without hesitation, showing no intention of taking prisoners.
These were not local thugs or rogue sailors; these were tier-one private contractors hired to sanitize a target site.
My SEAL instincts took over before my brain had time to calculate the fear.
I rolled from behind the brick hearth, swept the leg of the lead contractor with my combat boots, and brought him crashing down onto the hardwood floor.
His weapon discharged into the ceiling, the suppressed rounds making muffled popping sounds through the plaster.
I slammed my elbow down into his throat, crushing his windpipe, and wrenched the customized short-barreled carbine from his gloved hands.
Behind me, the second contractor raised his rifle directly toward my exposed back.
Before he could squeeze the trigger, three rapid, deafening shots cracked through the smoke from the kitchen entryway.
The contractor jerked backward as three nine-millimeter rounds struck the center of his chest plate, the kinetic impact staggering him into the doorframe.
Maya stepped out from behind the refrigerator, her pistol held in a perfect two-handed combat grip, firing two more controlled shots into the unarmored pelvic girdle.
The man collapsed onto the floor, groaning in agony as his rifle clattered across the hallway.
"Clear right!" Maya called out, her voice calm, lethal, and perfectly controlled despite the chaos.
"Clear left!" I called back, swinging my captured carbine toward the shattered front entrance.
Outside in the driveway, two more armed men were moving up the walkway, using the thick coastal fog as concealment.
They opened fire immediately, their rounds tearing through the wooden exterior walls of the bungalow, sending plaster and splintered studs raining down upon us.
Evelyn remained low behind the brick hearth, returning deliberate, suppressive fire through the broken window frame with her pistol.
"They have a command vehicle parked across the street!" Evelyn shouted over the gunfire.
"If they breach the perimeter with heavy weapons, this house will become a death trap!"
"Bryce, cover the front door!" Maya ordered, already moving toward the side exit leading to the attached garage.
"I'm flanking them through the side courtyard!"
"Maya, wait! You don't have armor!" I shouted, but she was already gone, moving like a ghost through the shadows.
I leaned around the doorframe and unleashed a controlled three-round burst at the muzzle flashes illuminated in the driveway fog.
One of the contractors cried out, clutching his shoulder as he fell back behind my truck for cover.
From the side of the house, a sudden burst of automatic fire erupted, accompanied by the screams of the remaining attackers.
Maya had flanked around the wooden fence, catching the two surviving contractors in an open crossfire from their blind side.
Within ten seconds, the gunfire stopped entirely, replaced by the heavy, ragged breathing of wounded men groaning in the wet grass.
I sprinted out through the shattered doorway, keeping my rifle tucked tight against my shoulder as I swept the lawn.
Three contractors lay immobilized on the wet lawn, disarmed and bleeding into the clover.
Maya stood over the squad leader, her boot pinned firmly against his wrist, the barrel of her pistol pressed against the center of his forehead.
"Identify your commanding officer," Maya demanded, her voice chilling in its absolute lack of emotion.
The contractor spat blood onto the grass, coughing weakly beneath the weight of her boot.
"Go to hell, girl," the man wheezed, his eyes filled with defiant hatred.
"We're private security... we don't answer to you."
I stepped forward, grabbing the tactical radio clipped to the man's chest vest, and ripped off the encrypted microphone.
The radio squawked with static, and then a cold, familiar voice crackled through the small speaker.
"Team Leader, report status," my father's voice ordered over the secure channel.
"Have you secured the drives and neutralized the targets?"
A suffocating wave of rage and betrayal washed over me as I brought the microphone to my lips.
"The targets are alive, Richard," I said into the radio, my voice trembling with murderous fury.
Silence fell over the other end of the line, heavy and toxic across the encrypted radio waves.
"Bryce?" my father whispered, the shock evident in the crackle of the transmission.
"You sent mercenaries to murder your own son, your granddaughter, and Nathan’s widow," I said, tears of pure venom running down my cheeks.
"You are not an Admiral, Richard."
"You are a traitor, a murderer, and a coward."
"Bryce, listen to me," Richard pleaded, his voice losing all its polished arrogance, replaced by frantic desperation.
"You don't understand what is at stake here! The Anderson name—"
"The Anderson name died with Nathan in Sangin," I interrupted, cutting him off completely.
"We are coming for you at sunrise."
I crushed the radio beneath my combat boot, shattering the plastic and circuitry into the wet gravel.
In the distance, the low, thrumming roar of military rotor blades began to shake the coastal clouds.
Two black MH-60 Black Hawk helicopters emerged from the ocean fog, their high-intensity searchlights sweeping down upon the bungalow.
Shore Patrol vehicles and federal agents flooded into the street, sirens wailing as Admiral Bennett’s personal security force sealed off the entire block.
Admiral Katherine Bennett herself stepped out of the lead command vehicle, flanked by heavily armed military police.
She looked at the wounded contractors, looked at the shattered house, and then looked at Maya and me standing side by side in the pouring rain.
"Get in the vehicle, Commander Underwood," Bennett ordered, her face as hard as polished marble.
May you like
"The Secretary of the Navy has just convened an emergency general court-martial tribunal at North Island."
"And Richard Anderson is already waiting in the chamber, thinking he can buy his way out of hell."
