Dark New World (Book 2): EMP Exodus Read Online Free
Author: J.J. Holden, Henry Gene Foster
Tags: Post-Apocalyptic | Dystopian
entry.
Goddamn, entry was his absolute least favorite thing in the world. Worse than the chlamydia he got in Germany that one time. He and Eagan had practiced entries for a few minutes before leaving on this mission, which showed Taggart that Eagan knew what he was doing so he wasn’t worried about his partner screwing up. But room entry got soldiers killed if the enemy was on the other side unless everything went just right.
“Showtime, Eagan,” Taggart whispered with a grin, pretending an eagerness he sure didn’t feel. The next three seconds would mean life or death if anyone was inside. Those three seconds always felt like an eternity to Taggart, when the adrenaline was pumping, and bullets flew.
Eagan moved away from the wall, stood in front of the door, finger-counted to three and then, without hesitation, kicked with all his might at a spot just to the inside of the door handle. The door flew open amid a shower of splinters from the door frame. Taggart ducked inside and to the right, the open door at his back; Eagan was right on his heels and rushed in to cover the other direction.
Taggart saw two soldiers sitting at the table in the apartment’s breakfast nook. Their rifles leaned against the wall nearby, and their faces showed dumbfounded shock at the abrupt interruption. They died with those expressions on their faces when Taggart fired two rapid shots, double-tapping one, and then repeating that for the other. It all happened before the thought of firing crossed his mind. Years of experience had burned the reaction into his muscle memory. Four rounds down, he ticked off in his mind without a thought for the men he had just killed. Guilt never came out until dreams came at night, but these two would barely be a drop in that bucket.
Behind him, Taggart heard three shots from two weapons and spun around. Eagan had double-tapped a third soldier, who in turn had fired his rifle at the ceiling when his muscles jerked in shock and surprise. All three soldiers inside were now down.
Without another word, Taggart and Eagan swept the rest of the apartment room by room, closet by closet. They found no more soldiers, but they did find a man dead in the bathtub. They also found an unconscious woman bound and gagged in one corner, her cute yoga pants and “Talk Shit, Get Hit” halter top shredded and hanging loosely down.
Taggart clenched his jaw hard enough to hurt his teeth, eyes narrowed. “Eagan, cut this woman’s bonds, and leave your MRE next to her.”
Eagan nodded and did so. “Think she’ll live?” he asked with a voice that sounded carefully flat and emotionless.
After a couple seconds of silence that spoke volumes, Taggart finally said, “Crowbar. The wall between the bathroom and the living room. Sense of urgency, Private.”
Eagan made short work of the wall, and two PVC tubes fell out, each about two feet long and capped on both ends. “What’s in them, Captain?”
“Mr. Black—what a joke he is—didn’t say. He just said it was vital. Well, we have the cache.”
Eagan paused and then said, “Sir, I request permission to bring the civilian with us.”
Taggart frowned. “Negative, soldier. That could compromise our mission, and is outside our operational parameters. Now secure the package,” he barked back. Eyes closed, the woman made no sound. Taggart gathered the dead soldiers’ rifles. Any responding enemy soldiers would mow down anyone they saw in the area anyway, so secrecy was irrelevant, and the resistance could use the arms.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here, Eagan, before those bastards can send more soldiers at us.” And before he had to smell one more motherfucking second of that death-filled apartment building.
* * *
2030 HOURS - ZERO DAY +6
Cassy moved as quickly as her wounded and bound shoulder would allow. Thank God the kids were smaller and also moved slower, so they set the pace for the whole “clan.” Frank was a smart cookie for coming up with the
Goddamn, entry was his absolute least favorite thing in the world. Worse than the chlamydia he got in Germany that one time. He and Eagan had practiced entries for a few minutes before leaving on this mission, which showed Taggart that Eagan knew what he was doing so he wasn’t worried about his partner screwing up. But room entry got soldiers killed if the enemy was on the other side unless everything went just right.
“Showtime, Eagan,” Taggart whispered with a grin, pretending an eagerness he sure didn’t feel. The next three seconds would mean life or death if anyone was inside. Those three seconds always felt like an eternity to Taggart, when the adrenaline was pumping, and bullets flew.
Eagan moved away from the wall, stood in front of the door, finger-counted to three and then, without hesitation, kicked with all his might at a spot just to the inside of the door handle. The door flew open amid a shower of splinters from the door frame. Taggart ducked inside and to the right, the open door at his back; Eagan was right on his heels and rushed in to cover the other direction.
Taggart saw two soldiers sitting at the table in the apartment’s breakfast nook. Their rifles leaned against the wall nearby, and their faces showed dumbfounded shock at the abrupt interruption. They died with those expressions on their faces when Taggart fired two rapid shots, double-tapping one, and then repeating that for the other. It all happened before the thought of firing crossed his mind. Years of experience had burned the reaction into his muscle memory. Four rounds down, he ticked off in his mind without a thought for the men he had just killed. Guilt never came out until dreams came at night, but these two would barely be a drop in that bucket.
Behind him, Taggart heard three shots from two weapons and spun around. Eagan had double-tapped a third soldier, who in turn had fired his rifle at the ceiling when his muscles jerked in shock and surprise. All three soldiers inside were now down.
Without another word, Taggart and Eagan swept the rest of the apartment room by room, closet by closet. They found no more soldiers, but they did find a man dead in the bathtub. They also found an unconscious woman bound and gagged in one corner, her cute yoga pants and “Talk Shit, Get Hit” halter top shredded and hanging loosely down.
Taggart clenched his jaw hard enough to hurt his teeth, eyes narrowed. “Eagan, cut this woman’s bonds, and leave your MRE next to her.”
Eagan nodded and did so. “Think she’ll live?” he asked with a voice that sounded carefully flat and emotionless.
After a couple seconds of silence that spoke volumes, Taggart finally said, “Crowbar. The wall between the bathroom and the living room. Sense of urgency, Private.”
Eagan made short work of the wall, and two PVC tubes fell out, each about two feet long and capped on both ends. “What’s in them, Captain?”
“Mr. Black—what a joke he is—didn’t say. He just said it was vital. Well, we have the cache.”
Eagan paused and then said, “Sir, I request permission to bring the civilian with us.”
Taggart frowned. “Negative, soldier. That could compromise our mission, and is outside our operational parameters. Now secure the package,” he barked back. Eyes closed, the woman made no sound. Taggart gathered the dead soldiers’ rifles. Any responding enemy soldiers would mow down anyone they saw in the area anyway, so secrecy was irrelevant, and the resistance could use the arms.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here, Eagan, before those bastards can send more soldiers at us.” And before he had to smell one more motherfucking second of that death-filled apartment building.
* * *
2030 HOURS - ZERO DAY +6
Cassy moved as quickly as her wounded and bound shoulder would allow. Thank God the kids were smaller and also moved slower, so they set the pace for the whole “clan.” Frank was a smart cookie for coming up with the
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