Soon, the ambulance was guided into the driveway. There weren’t any lights on for the simple reason that Sepp didn’t want to attract any attention from the neighbors. Although an ambulance would be noticed, he knew people in areas like that would look the other way after the initial moment of interest. Having the emergency vehicle’s lights on, however, would draw them in like moths to a flame.
Howe shifted the ambulance into Park, got out, and opened the rear doors per standard operating procedure for the local EMTs and paramedics.
Sepp hopped out and went directly to the front door. His two team members stacked up behind him while Bravo team hurried around to the back of the house. Sepp counted to sixty, following the assault plan, and reached for the door, surprised to see it was open a fraction of an inch.
Still, Sepp didn’t hesitate to push the door open and glance into the house beyond.
He saw a long hallway and a set of master stairs. There were open doors on either side and a chill to the air that represented the presence of the dead.
Of Shane Ryan, there was no sign.
Sepp stepped in, his footsteps silent, his senses alert. He listened for any sound that might lead them to where the target was. Sepp had no doubt Shane Ryan had a weapon in the house. The man was known to have at least a .45 Colt automatic, a weapon that Sepp wanted as a trophy for himself when everything was said and done.
He came to the first room and glanced in.
A dead girl stood with her back to the doorway as she looked at an empty fireplace. As he was about to move on, the ghost turned around and offered him a death’s head grin. She brought an emaciated finger to her mouth and whispered, “Shh.”
The word had no sooner been uttered than the harsh cough of suppressed weapons from elsewhere filled the air.
Without any hesitation, Sepp raced down the hall, his men close behind, M4s at the ready.
Two of Bravo team were down, steak knives driven through their throats. Marco, the leader of Bravo team, was fighting with Shane Ryan.
The hairless, scarred man was faster than anyone Sepp had seen before. In a heartbeat, he had disarmed Marco, spun him around, and used him as a shield.
Neither Sepp nor his team hesitated.
They opened fire.
So, too, did the target.
Marco was struck multiple times while Sepp swore, large slivers of wood from the doorjamb spraying him in the face. Hot blood splashed against his skin as one of his team members went down.
“Changing mags!” Howe shouted.
Sepp forced his eyes open, firing and trying to get Shane off-balance.
Shane was rushing toward them, Marco’s feet dragging on the floor for a split-second before crashing into Sepp. The weight of the dead man sent Sepp crashing into the hallway, and he tried to shove the body off. He saw Shane reverse his grip on Marco’s M4 while Howe tried to bring his own to bear.
Howe’s head snapped back as Shane battered him with the weapon.
Sepp pulled the trigger, realized he was out, and tried to draw his sidearm. Shane caught the movement, stepped over, and stomped down with a boot, shattering Sepp’s fingers and retrieving the weapon for himself.
Howe took a dazed step forward. Shane Ryan put the suppressor against the man’s temple and pulled the trigger.
As Howe’s brains were spread across the hallway’s wall, Sepp pushed Marco’s body away and awkwardly drew his knife with his left hand. Shane kicked him in the jaw, stunning Sepp, and then slapped the knife away. Sepp bit back a scream as the pistol Shane held coughed twice, putting a round into each of Sepp’s kneecaps.
“Don’t go anywhere,” Shane told him and turned away.
Sepp watched him go back into the kitchen, bringing the pistol up to put two bullets into each man’s head.
With a groan, Sepp rolled over and tried to draw Marco’s pistol.
He yelled as Shane Ryan shot him through the back of the hand.
Panting, chest heaving, Sepp twisted onto his back and glared at the man as he walked forward. The man’s sweatshirt was stained with blood and filth, as were his jeans and boots.
Shane sat down, took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, and lit one. He exhaled through his nose and looked at Sepp.
“You know,” Shane stated, “I’m a little frustrated right now.”
Sepp didn’t respond.
“Here I was, minding my own business, getting ready to wash some dishes, and you and your little buddies decide it’s time to play soldier,” Shane muttered. “What the hell is up with that?”
Sepp clenched his teeth together.
Shane shrugged. “I know you’re a big, tough guy. Comfortable with violence and all that happy crap. I doubt you’re going to be comfortable with the violence you will experience at my hands, though.”
Sepp felt his eyes widen involuntarily.
“Oh, yeah,” Shane nodded. “See, I’ve got some anger issues. Recently, I’ve been okay. Honest. But then, last night, I get attacked, and I end up losing one of the guys. Did not make me happy. Bad news this morning, so that really set me off. And now, this. A six-man kill team. I can see you’ve got iron. Someone knew what they were doing when they equipped you. Suppressed M4s and Glocks. What they forgot, and what you won’t be able to tell them, is that just because you’re wearing iron doesn’t mean the dead can’t see you. Hell, it was the same thing with the idiots from last night.”
Shane shook his head. “Anyway. Listen, I’m going to heat up some metal to slap on those wounds of yours. I need you to not bleed out for a bit. Okay?”
“I’m not going to talk,” Sepp hissed through clenched teeth.
Shane smiled. “You just did.”
Shane Ryan leaned forward and pressed his thumb into the bullet hole in Sepp’s left knee, and the man shrieked.
“Oh yeah,” Shane sighed. “You’ll talk. Scream all you want, too. Neighbors aren’t close enough to hear you well, and if they do, I always have a cover story ready.””
As the man stood up and went into the kitchen, Sepp realized he was right.
With his good hand, Sepp reached into his pocket and found the trigger.
***
The muffled pop took Shane by surprise, and when he twisted around, he saw the body of the last man jerk once and then lay still. Smoke rose up from his body armor—the man was clearly dead.
Anger boiled over Shane, and he stood still, shaking with rage as he clenched his fists, trying to reassert his self-control.
I think I’ve had about enough, Shane thought.
Furious, he began to clean up the mess.
***
Monday, 3:00 PM
A knock at the door interrupted Alex’s reading.
With a frown, he looked up and said, “Come in.”
Sergeant Anderson stepped into the room. “We’ve had a relay from the observation post in Nashua.”
Alex grinned and closed his book. “Cool. How did it go?”
She shook her head. “The team was killed. Shane Ryan is still alive.”
Alex laughed, reached into a drawer, pulled out a Glock, and shot Anderson twice in the chest.
For a moment, she stood still, her eyes wide with shock. Then, she blinked, looked down, and Alex shot her again.
She collapsed to the floor, and he got out of his seat.
“Why did you do that, kid?” Timmy asked.