CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Escaping Battle Station

After Nightshade’s call, everyone started arguing about his words and what they could mean.

“Nightshade’s a slippery bastard.” Sylvie’s father insisted. “He likes to be in control at all times. I think this is just his way of exerting control over them; get them to do his bidding again.”

“But Meyer is dangerous.” Sylvie pointed out. “Sara’s story and our own evidence confirms that.”

“True. But that nonsense about you having to be the ones to take him out…that’s bull-ah, nothing.” He said. Sylvie and Taryn rolled their eyes.

“We’re adults dad.” Sylvie reminded him. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard a lot worse in the locker rooms.”

His face flushed and he looked angry a moment before he shook his head and laughed.

“Probably, no make that definitely. Anyway, what I was trying to say was that it’s likely he has some sort of information on Nightshade, something he doesn’t want us to know, and so he wants him quietly eliminated.”

“You’re father’s right, honey.” Sylvie’s mom nodded. “It’s a form of mind game, a power play. He wants us to fall into his trap, to prove how easy to manipulate we are.”

“Obviously” Taryn nodded. “However, he still has to deal with us. That gives us a great deal of power over him, which is something he doesn’t like. Also, the thing about his caring about Sara as an asset…sounds like him.” She said thoughtfully. “He doesn’t like just burning any resource he can use. Sorry.” She said apologetically to Sara. “But I doubt he has your best interests at heart.”

“That’s okay.” Sara nodded. “I’m getting used to it.” She added wearily.

Taryn spared her a sympathetic glance, but moved on. “We know a lot of what he said is probably the truth; Jacob Meyer is dangerous and insane, and it’s going to take a lot of effort to bring him in.”

“True, but the police will be the ones to do it,” her mom said firmly. “Not you. We just need to stay out of their way and let them do their job.”

“Right.” Taryn nodded, glancing out the window where an old pickup had slowed to a stop outside.

Its sides were streaked with rust and chicken droppings and it looked like it might have broken down outside again. An elderly man was getting out to look.

“We can keep our heads about us and give what we know to the chief when he gets back with Sara’s parents.”

“Do you think there’s a chance?” Sara asked hopefully.

“Look, if there’s anyone that could manage to do the impossible, it’s the chief.” A patrolman who’d joined the throng around them piped up. “He’s not called the bulldog for nothing.”
What else he might have said was lost in the roar of a shotgun blasting through the glass of the front door.

Taryn looked out in shock to see the old man she’d assumed to be a farmer passing by holding a savage looking rifle as he charged through the broken frame, grinning with a wild look about him as he pulled the trigger and held it down.

The automatic shotgun bellowed in the confined space like a cannonade, deafening everyone there and effectively silencing the shrieks of pain and surprise.

BAM-AM-AM-AM-BAM!

Several officers were cut down before they could draw their sidearms. Taryn watched one jump over the back of her desk to escape, before the top was torn off by several consecutive shots.
From the first startling shot, everyone had been frozen in shock and fright, but they shook off their stupor as the ancient will of staying alive set in.

Taryn watched Sylvie whip her rifle up to attack position faster than the eye could follow, putting two rounds into the old man’s arms, causing him to drop the shotgun with a cry of pain. He fell back, holding his arms and whimpering as crunching glass announced the arrival of five more people dressed head to toe in black leather, body armor, and motorcycle helmets with powerful lights strapped on top, the beams of light sweeping the wreckage of the station.

“Sylvie, get out of there!” her father screamed, crouching behind a couch and firing back at the intruders who scattered.

“Can’t.” Sylvie said, her voice betraying her fear and tension. “Stuck.”

It was true, Taryn saw. The couch the humans crouched behind wouldn’t hide a centaur unless they got off their feet, at which point they would be at the attacker’s mercy. Taryn couldn’t let her face the brunt of the

With a war shriek, Taryn snatched her shield off the leather strings that held it attached to her back and picked up one of her spears. Hurling it, she pinned one of the attackers to the door, knocking him unconscious with her fist. Yanking the spear free, she let the body slide to the floor unnoticed while she advanced.

Sylvie stood behind the cowering people with her posture erect, her rifle darting this way and that as she kept the attackers heads down with rounds that scored the side of helmets or snatched weapons from unwary hands.

While she worked, Taryn took one side of the room, dodging debris as she tried to flank them; she could see Josh doing the same thing on the other side, gripping his tire iron with a savage look in his eye.

The attackers had taken cover behind the front desk, using it as a shield against Sylvie’s accurate and remorseless fire. So fast were her reloads that despite their best efforts, they couldn’t get as much as their heads raised up over the top before she was back in business.

In position, Taryn signaled to Sylvie who held her fire. Josh charged from behind while Taryn leaned over the top of the desk, her spear jabbing downward.

She caught one man under the chin. He froze as he felt her point tickling his adam’s apple.

Meanwhile Josh came in the open back, swinging his pipe. One of the attackers gave a feminine shriek and turned her semi-automatic on him.

Taryn saw the movement and reacted, hurling her warshield hard enough it threw her body several inches as it struck her helmet and left her dazed and disoriented with her weapon skittering across the floor to hit the far wall.

Taryn felt relived, thinking they’d won the fight when the screech of tires made her reflexively turn around. She felt a tug on her spear as someone tried to take it from her, misjudging her centaur strength. She idly flicked the spear upward, driving the point in and heard her opponent scream. She hoped she hadn’t killed him, but she didn’t have any choice.

Hurling herself sideways, she narrowly avoided a large black van that charged through the broken glass and into the front desk. Josh grabbed one of the attackers and hurled them out of the way of the onrushing van before throwing himself out just before it hit.

Taryn felt a spurt of fear at the danger he put himself in, hoping he’d be all right.

Sylvie fired round after round into the van, riddling the doors and tires in an effort to keep the attackers contained.

The back of the van opened to spill dozens of people, some with body armor and others in thick work clothes, and others still with only a t-shirt to protect them from bullets. Insane.

Taryn skidded behind the wreckage of the front desk and the front of the van, protected for a moment as the gunmen tried to enter. More guns barked as Sylvie led the effort to repulse them, and for a moment it looked like a stalemate.

Taryn grabbed her warshield from where it sat miraculously undamaged in the fight, the symbols of the Cherokee tribe clear even in the dust and heat of combat.

Wow, Running Cloud wasn’t kidding about the durability of this thing!

She needed to get out of the way of the bullets and back to safety, or close with the fighters and engage them head on with her spear.

She peeked around the corner, pulling back as wood splintered from a dozen rounds. The attackers had sought shelter in the lee of the van, on Josh’s side, protected from Sylvie and the police and her parents by what appeared to be a thicker than normal van door. Taryn bet it was probably armored especially for this assault. She would need to get them out of cover before the defenders ran out of ammunition, or they would all be lost.

She crept as best she could to the other side of the van; she was surprised at how strong her upper arms were, able to pull along her heavy horse body with distinct effort and aided only by a couple of light kicks from her legs.

Once out of the line of sight, she regained her footing, the added height effectively giving her a free shot through the windshield. She caught the eye of one of the attackers looking at her through his mask. She could swear he was grinning at her, and she guessed the glass was bullet proof. Both sides could work on breaking the glass, but it would be slow and leave them open for the counter attack.

Forgoing that way, she hurried around to the back, knowing she’d meet resistance. The shield was great, but she doubted it could withstand bullets. She needed a way to distract them so she could move freely again.

Looking desperately around, she spotted the sprinkler system above her. It hadn’t activated yet, so it would still be charged, she realized. And it was full of halon gas…perfect for this situation.

With a aimed throw, she speared a nozzle. Immediately it began discharging a white smoke that billowed down on the people beneath it. A clang attracted her attention, and she spotted Josh by the wall pulling on the alarm lever.

Immediately all the nozzles gushed the white smoke. It was freezing cold, very dense, and covered the ground in a fine mist like London fog in seconds.

Taryn charged around the van, snatching another spear from her quiver. She could see Josh running from cover, his midnight hide flexing as he threw himself into overdrive to get there in time.

Taryn burst upon the surprised fighters with the fury of Fate herself. Her shaft clubbed victim after victim unconscious while her reverse strikes knocked the weapons out of slashed or severed fingers.

Josh came then and went to work with a will, striking ribs and helmets with his crowbar with enough strength to rattle cages.

“That’s it! Fall back!” One of them shouted, running for the door. “Let Team Two take their turn!”

Those that still could raced to the door trying to get away. Taryn let them go; she’d heard the shout and realized they were still in desperate straits.

Leaving the wounded and unconscious where they lay, she felt relieved to see that they hadn’t killed anyone there, though in another assault like the last one she knew would result in a final battle to the death.

“We need to get out of here.” She said, coming up to the others.
v“I know.” Sylvie said shortly. “I heard. Team two is coming. How many are in it?”

Taryn spared a hot glance at her. “I didn’t count them.” She snapped. “I didn’t even see them.”

“Right.” Sylvie said a little sheepishly. “Let’s hope they have the back only lightly guarded.” She said more seriously. “We’ve got severely wounded to get out of here.”

“Sylvie, take Taryn and your mother and get out of here.” Her father said, coming up beside them.

“Dad, don’t be doing stupid things.” Sylvie snapped. “We’ve got to leave all together, or none of us is getting out of here alive.”

“You can’t carry all—“ her father started heatedly.

“No, but we will take the wounded.” Sylvie said, hurrying over to the desk where a cop held his arm shut, the blood soaking his jacket.

“I’ve got a place we can go where we will be safe.” She continued. “Let’s go.”

And with that she slung the injured man up on her back. Taryn helped, it kept her mind off her terror now that the initial heat of battle was fading, and they rounded up four injured police and five walking wounded. The other twelve officers they left where they had fallen, vowing to come back and bury them properly.

“That’s it, we can’t waste any more time.” Sylvie said, making no mention of her burden of her mother and injured cop. The man looked nervous at riding a centaur and kept trying to keep himself from grabbing Sylvie’s waist.

Taryn felt the heavy weight of her pair of passengers, her mom and another injured woman. She was barely conscious, and it was only her mother that kept her from falling off.

Josh stood nearby, carrying three passengers; the last of the severely injured and Sara. The others were walking, armed with a motley variety of weapons scavenged from the station.

“Let’s go.” Sylvie said firmly.

They slipped out the back of the station, looking carefully for an ambush. It wasn’t long in coming.

“Hang on!” Taryn shouted to her passengers as a light flared in front of them and bullets started whining.

Sylvie took out the lights and the shooters before retiring to reload. Taryn and Josh hurried forward, her shield held in front of her body and her spear remarkably steady considering her fear, but there wasn’t anyone else. It appeared the guard here had consisted of four men with rifles and a dune buggy.

“They will have heard the shots.” Sylvie said, having reloaded and caught up to them.

“Right. But now the others have a way to get moving.” Taryn pointed at the dune buggy.

“Good idea.” Sylvie nodded. “If we can get it running.”

“Please, allow me.” Her father said, sliding into the driver’s seat. There came a crashing sound, and they glanced in to see the cover of the steering column off. He delicately plucked a pair of wires from a bundle and twisted them together.

With a coughing roar, the engine started up while the others jumped in.

“All right!” Sylvie said. “Now let’s get going. If we get separated, make for the new parking garage that’s going in for the hospital.”

Taryn shot a swift look at her friend; that would be the same area where Sylvie had been disappearing. Sylvie’s mother also looked swiftly and searchingly at her daughter.

“No time now.” She said in answer to their unspoken questions. “But they will help us. I’ve made sure of that. Now go!”

They took off, weaving and dodging as they sped out the alley into one of the main roads. Behind them they could hear the frenzy of assault weapons as team two charged the station from the front. Taryn wished they’d use heavy weaponry and bring the roof down on themselves, but the loudest sound came from a machine gun.

Hearing the firepower arrayed against them, everyone picked up the pace. Taryn could feel the weight of her passengers slowing her down, making it hard to run or even walk. White flecks appeared on her flanks and skin, occasionally shaking loose and splatting into the ground.

They nearly made it to the parking garage, they could see the huge structure looming large in front of them; when squealing tires and a roaring engine announced the arrival of a large moving van with the doors thrown wide. A dozen people were hanging off the sides and on the roof like a scene from India, their weapons jostling and being thrown about so much that none of them bothered to open fire just yet.

The group took off, Taryn praying her screaming legs would make it just a bit further, her friends panting nearly as bad beside her.

A gunshot just behind her made her jump; until she realized it was her mother firing the 1911 at the van. Ahead the dune buggy spun around on the narrow street and charged the van, the engine racing as passed by.

“Dad!” Sylvie screamed, stopping and turning around.

“Greg!” her mother called at the same moment, looking terrified at what looked to be about to happen.

Whatever the two combatants expected, it didn’t happen. Instead of the dune buggy being splatted on the front of the van and riddled with bullet holes, Taryn watched in stunned disbelief as a midnight-black Chevy Tahoe zipped out of a side street and rammed the van in the side. The impact hurled the attackers free of the vehicle, most of them landing and not getting back up. The van itself careened sideways and smashed into a lightpole, stopping with a lurch and the hiss of escaping steam.

Two men in dark suits hopped out of the damaged Tahoe, weapons drawn and speaking into a mike.

Her dad brought the buggy to a halt facing the garage, gesturing wildly to the two men.

They shook their heads and set up casually across the front of their car, bringing out M16s from the rear compartment.

“We’ll slow them down.” One shouted. “Get going. Central will want to speak with you!”

“Right.” Sylvie shouted before her dad could say anything. “Come on dad!” she turned and hurried to the garage, ignoring her mother who’d leaned forward and seemed to be attempting to speak with her urgently.

Taryn followed them while the walking wounded piled out of the buggy and followed, eyeing their weapons nervously.

Inside the garage, Sylvie led them up two levels before stopping at what appeared to be a large maintenance closet. Opening the door, she tapped the handle of the mop, which dropped a foot with a loud clunk! She pushed the secret door open (it was surprisingly thick and wide) before stepping through. Her passengers didn’t even have to duck as they passed through, and Taryn shut it firmly behind them.

There was a long white corridor that lead on to a pair of double doors further on. Sylvie walked quickly down them while everyone gawked around at the completely unremarkable and utterly mysterious tunnel.

Through the doors they found a very nicely appointed doctor’s office, complete with a examination table and medical instruments hanging on one wall, neatly labeled.

A second door opened and in hurried a little old man. Taryn blinked; it was the same little old man she’d bet before!

“Doctor Merrick!” she gasped in surprise.

“Good, good, you’re all safe.” The figure bounced on his toes in his nervousness as he eyed each of them. “Though it looks very near, very near. Quickly, er, put the wounded on the floor, just there next to the bed. That’s it. All right. I’ll need some help.”

Taryn stepped forward, glaring at Sylvie. “I want the truth, after we’re done.” She hissed.

“You’ll have it.” Sylvie promised her.

For the next hour they worked on the wounded. The centaur girls boiled water for dressings, fetched implements and provided what comfort they could for the injured. Those that weren’t hurt badly were given morphine for the pain and hurried back up the tunnel where preparations were being made to hold the tunnel against assault. Cabinets, dressers, desks and chairs were all piled up against the door and in three spots down the hall to provide cover. Sylvie also helped them when she could break free of the hospital and her mother’s glares.

When the last of the wounded had been tended too and the tunnel fortified as much as they could, the mayor hurried outside with a M16 of his own to bring in the two government men.
He reappeared almost immediately, his face grim and hard.

“No sign of them.” He reported. “But it looks like there’s been a hell of a battle outside.”

Taryn shook her head, feeling a pang of sorrow for the agents and what they must have done to protect them all.

“Sylvie, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do.” Her father rumbled angrily. His voice and eyes were hard as they speared his daughter.

Taryn watched Sylvie squirm a little under their glare, but looked defiantly at him.

“Don’t blame your daughter over much, Mister Mathison.” Doctor Merrick broke in, looking severely over the top of his glasses at him. “She did a lot of this to protect you and your family from prison jail terms.” He ignored the gasps and shocked looks sent his way. “You’ve done a lot of questionable things in this whole affair, understandable, but illegal. She took it upon herself to get you out of trouble. Regardless, this is not the time or the place for this. She’s had several bad shocks to her system today, and it may have further severe effects on her thanks to her horse physiology. Regardless, you yourself are injured and should not overexert yourself. If you insist on turning my office into your personal interrogation room, then you can bandage your own wounds, which you will not do in my office, and you can stand outside and wait for further reinforcements.”
He crossed his arms and glared so severely around the room that silence reigned supreme; even Sylvie’s mom remained silent against the wrath of this little old man that dominated the room now.

“Good.” He said when he saw he wouldn’t have any challenges. “Since you are now seeing reason, you may step over here and let me look at that arm you’re favoring. It appears to be strained, perhaps?”

The mayor looked uncomfortable now, but nodded, “Yeah bent it wrong when I wrenched the wheel around in the dune buggy.”

“Yes, I saw that on the monitor.” The doctor nodded. “That was very brave, but unnecessary.”

“Your men outside are dead, doctor, how unnecessary do you think it was?” he scowled.

“I doubt sincerely they are dead.” Dr. Merrick said, unruffled. “Considering some of the missions I know staff sergeant Harmon and Corporal Mickey have accomplished, I don’t think a handful of religious fanatics could simply do them in. Not without far more sound and noise, which would have alerted us. No, I simply suspect they fell back to the other bunker to await reinforcements.”

He finished checking over the arm, nodding quietly and passing a couple pills over. “Take these, and keep some ice on it for the next few days and you should be fine.’

“Now, on that last business, let’s make sure, shall we?” he added, going to the phone and picking it up.

“Agent Mickey, please.” He said clearly.

A few moments passed while everyone waited with taught nerves.

“Ah, Agent Mickey; how are things going outside?” Dr. Merrick asked. There came a quiet sound of relief. “I see. What are the extent of his injuries? Yes, you are correct, the camphor applied…yes, I understand, we’ll wait…how long?…all right then, we will be here.”

He hung up the phone. “It was a close thing.” He admitted. “But they are safe and in the bunker. Agent Bengal is on his way here with several squads of agents and helicopters…I think the worst is behind us now.”

“I doubt it.” Taryn said quietly, thinking of Sylvie’s vision and Nightshade’s own, dire warnings. “I think the worst is only beginning.”