Chapter 8 - The Siege of North Tower
“COVER YOUR EYES!” I screamed, grabbing Miller by his tactical vest and throwing him around the concrete corner of the pipe junction.
BANG!
A blinding white flash and a concussive shockwave exploded through the narrow tunnel, ringing in my ears like a sledgehammer hitting an anvil. Water splashed everywhere as smoke filled the corridor.
Heavy boot steps descended the ladder rapidly. Sergeant Vance—a two-hundred-pound mercenary-turned-soldier—swung down into the tunnel, an M4 carbine raised to his shoulder.
“Find them!” Vance roared to two other guards dropping down behind him. “Sterling wants the woman dead and the kid silenced!”
Through the thick white smoke, I pushed myself up from the water. My vision was swimming with red spots, but muscle memory took over. As the first guard stepped past my corner, I grabbed the barrel of his M4, driving it upward while slamming my elbow hard into his windpipe. He gagged, dropping to his knees. I stripped the weapon from his hands, spun around, and fired three double-taps into the legs of the second guard, dropping him into the water.
Sergeant Vance heard the shots and spun around, spraying fully automatic fire down the tunnel. Bullets pinged violently off the concrete walls and steam pipes, releasing roaring jets of scalding white steam into the corridor.
I ducked low, pressing myself against the wet concrete floor. “Miller! Stay down!”
Vance was advancing, firing short, controlled bursts. “You’re out of room, Colonel!” he laughed, his voice echoic and booming in the tight space. “Sterling runs this base! You’re just a ghost in a ditch!”
I waited for the rhythm of his shots. Three... four... click. Empty magazine.
I lunged out from behind the corner, using the blinding steam as cover. I drove the butt of the captured M4 straight into Vance’s jaw. Teeth flew into the water. Before he could recover, I swept his legs, pinned his arm behind his back, and slammed his face into the flooded concrete, securing him with his own zip-ties.
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I looked back at Miller. He was shaken, but unhurt, clinging to his wrench.
“Let's go,” I said, pulling myself up the ladder into the pouring rain.
