Don't Call Me Ishmael by Chris Kennedy

Author:Chris Kennedy [Kennedy, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781950420094
Google: 1jTCwwEACAAJ
Publisher: Blood Moon Press
Published: 2019-03-26T00:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Twenty-Three

The thugs, when they came that night, were very good. Not professional grade, but very good for amateurs. I had napped during the time between Alice’s rescue and when everyone else went to bed, besides getting my leg wound treated, and I was—if not 100%—at least in the upper 80s.

Two people were lowered from the roof at the same time someone opened the door to the suite of rooms. While I couldn’t see the front door from my vantage point in the coat closet, I could easily see the man and woman on the back porch through the sliding glass door. Neither had night vision gear on, but the moon was full and bright, and it gave the scene enough light for them to see. Not enough to see me through the missing two slats of the closet door, but more than enough to see into the room.

They checked the door—it was locked—then waited with their pistols drawn. Two men came into view from the hallway by the front door. I suspected there would be at least one more there, maybe two, as lookouts. It’s what I would have done, anyway.

The two from the front door both had night vision goggles on, and one stood at the entranceway to the main room, while the other crossed to the sliding glass door onto the balcony. That was my cue, and I aimed, closed my eyes, and fired at the man on overwatch.

I opened them to find him slumping, while the man at the glass door spun around. The two people on the porch were pointing in my general direction, but the other thug with NVGs on had his back to them and couldn’t see what they were doing. They couldn’t shoot at me, as he was between us.

As the man’s eyes searched the condo, I took care of that problem by shooting him while he was looking at the other side of the room.

He slumped, giving the two on the porch a line of fire into my position, but I was already in motion as they began firing, and I heard the sounds of glass shattering and rounds hit the walls behind me as I dove through the hole I’d made in the closet wall leading to the second bedroom. I crawled to the door and raised my pistol as one of the men walked into the main room. He quickly scanned it once, then moved toward the closet door as his partner walked in from the porch.

She stopped to look around and had a split second to see me and draw in a breath to warn her partner before I shot her in the chest. She fell, and I was up and back to the hole in the wall into the closet as the man spun, trying to find out what had killed her. I shot him from about two feet away, close enough to see his blood and brains spray out, even in the dark.

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