The four Charlie SWAT agents lead our group, holding up their riot shields for an extra layer of protection. In a tight cluster, we hustle toward the porch.
A dead STK shooter is slumped on the steps. The agent who was given the call signCharlie Twoswipes the assault rifle fromthe body and slings it over his shoulder. Dead men can’t shoot, but we shouldn’t leave extra loaded guns lying around.
Our feet hit the porch, and we split into two groups of five. We’ll take cover on both sides of the front door, keeping our backs pressed against the structure until we’re cleared to enter.
The gunfire steadily lessens, then drifts farther away as they penetrate deeper into the compound.
Charlie One orders, “Move to channel three now.”
Alpha One is the last voice I hear through the main channel. “Living room clear.”
With thirty agents, plus command and snipers, a single comm line isn’t feasible. Especially because the mics are always on for this type of op. While we’ll mostly rely on hand signals, hearing everything at once will be distracting. Only the team leads will monitor the main channel.
Charlie One raises three fingers, dropping them one at a time to signal our entry.
I get another surge of adrenaline as we pass the threshold. Looking down the barrel of my rifle, I arc my vision swiftly. Nobody jumps out at us. No bullets whizzing by.
The floor is littered with broken glass, kicked over tables, and shell casings. I lose count after I step over the first ten STK bodies, bloody and riddled with bullet holes.
Lives lost needlessly. All because Carnage refused to surrender.
The distant gunfire steadily decreases, eventually only silence remains.
Charlie Team proceeds into the dining room. Looks like we interrupted dinner. The table is covered with plates of partially eaten food. Pasta night, by the looks of it.
While we were sweating our asses off outside, they were living life as usual. Despite knowing the FBI was surroundingthe compound and attempting hostage negotiations, they thought it was a good time to break bread.
A female with a bullet hole in her forehead is slumped in a chair. A handgun on the floor right below her open hand.
Jesus. This is disgusting.
“Dining room clear,” Charlie One announces quietly for those monitoring the main channel.
He pauses at the edge of the dining room and turns back to us. “Bravo heard footsteps above. They’re taking the second floor now.”
Damn. I want to get up there. I’d bet my next paycheck Carnage is cowering in a safe room with my sister and the doctor.
Off the dining area is a large empty kitchen, which we blow through.
We advance in synchronization into an expansive room. It appears to be the hub of the house, with hallways shooting like spokes in four directions. A large staircase on the far side leads to the upper level. I can only see as far as the landing at the midpoint, where it doubles back.
The stairs are clear, but the rest of the room is more of what we’ve seen thus far. Bloody STK bodies who went down shooting. No agents down. Thank fuck.
We spot Alpha Team stealthily padding out of a hallway, guns extended.
All heads whip toward the staircase simultaneously. Thumps and thuds come from above, signaling a struggle. They aren’t shooting, but they’re putting up a fight.
Alpha One points out the first-floor halls they’ve cleared, directing us to take the last so they can head up to assist Bravo Team. And they’re off.
“Five doors,” our team leader whispers over his shoulder to us upon entry into the final hallway.
Using hand signals, he splits us up to check the rooms faster. Hemsley leads a few of us through a door on the right, which resembles a science lab, à la Walter White.
I pivot my vision from wall to wall, scanning every inch of my surroundings. No signs of life in here.
“This must be where they’re working tirelessly to cure childhood cancer,” Romero utters sardonically.
ERT is gonna love getting in here. It will be their Super Bowl. Even the evidence has evidence.
