Touched By A Marine (Book 1)

Chapter Eleven: Into The Darkness

I stood perfectly still as the three-man strike team came to a halt and demanded that I toss my weapon on the ground and get on my knees while they secured me. When I didn’t comply with their request, the leader aimed his weapon and took another step forward, ordering me again in his Russian accent. I cautiously looked down at the gun that was still in my hand and tightened my grip around it, while my index finger itched just above the trigger guard. As I close my eyes briefly Brad’s voice entered my thoughts as he told me the ways of a gun battle. Always remember: if your opponent is well-armed and not alone, do what he tells you. You must let him think that he has the upper hand and when you feel the time is right, make every shot count.

As my eyes opened, everything around me slowed down. I raised my gun into the air and listened as the leader told me to drop it. The gun slipped through my fingers as it fell to the ground. I pretended to fall on my back as I reached for the gun in mid-air and fired three shots in quick succession. Penetrating the neck, thigh and stomach all three members of the Russian strike team lied dead in pile of their fallen comrades. Smoke rose from the barrel of my gun as the slide was pulled back and locked into place signified that I was out of bullets and needed a new magazine. One of the dead guy’s flashlights lingered on the ground next to his hand as I picked it up and used it to search through his tactical assault vest.

The ear shattering sound of the Velcro as it was being ripped apart bounced off the cement walls as it reverberated throughout the hallway. I stopped midway through and listened carefully to make sure no more footsteps were coming my way before I opened the flap and pulled out a fresh magazine. I held the flashlight with my teeth as I ejected the clip and snapped in the new one, releasing the slide that was just about the trigger guard. Rising to my feet, I continued onward with both the flashlight and gun leading the way. Water could be heard dripping in the distance while roots from the trunks of trees had dug their way down into the ceiling over the decades. In other words, the bunker had smelled of something awful. An odor I couldn’t place my finger on.

I stopped and hid behind another wall when what looked like a flashlight made an appearance at the other end of a hallway. Soon, multiple footsteps could be heard running together like a stampede as I peeked around and saw the second half of the strike team making its rounds. When they passed by and I sighed a breath of relief suddenly, one of the soldiers turned back and aimed his torch that was attached to the bottom of his rifle and pointed it down the hall. I raised my gun up to my chest as I tried to breathe in and out normally through my nose and prayed like hell that he wouldn’t continue on further. When I looked at the ground and watched the light go out and the darkness returned like a curtain being pulled down I concentrated on my hearing and waited until the team was out of ear shot before I willed myself to move out from behind my hiding spot.

The moisture in the air got heavier the further I walked deeper into the bunker. I passed room beyond rooms that were quarters for the men who lived here or offices for the men who controlled and ran this place on a daily basis. As I looked around with my flashlight on occasion I came face to face with a blast door that been rusted shut by the hands of time. Opening the door would take me a while as well as some heavy man power but with my small stature I knew that there was no other way for me to go but down so I got to work and placed my flashlight on the ground so it would face the handle that turned like a crank. I gritted my teeth as I grunted and used what muscles my little body had to use but the handle wouldn’t budge an inch.

“Need some help?” A voice sounded behind me.

I reached for my gun that was hidden underneath my shirt behind my back as I whirled around and aimed it into the chest of a man wearing a camo shirt with pants and army boots. The adrenaline that was coursing through my veins slowly subsided as my thoughts told me not to shoot and lay off the trigger. His hand slowly rose up from his side as he brushed his fingers along the length of my arm until he could grab the top of my gun and take it from me. I looked up into eyes and saw that his face was covered in war paint. As he holstered my weapon and kneeled down to my level, I realized that there was a dime shaped hole in the middle of his shirt. When I reached out to see if he was hurt he said.