Incursion

Epilogue

~~ January 25th, 2021, 2325 hours.

Location: Northern Brandon, Manitoba.

Approximately 1120 kilometres east of Calgary, Alberta. ~~



Carlos Delgado rammed his shoulder into the western doors of the Kirkcaldy Heights School. His heart hammered loudly in his ears as he shouldered the doors once, twice, thrice in an effort to break the lock or loosen the hinges. As much as he wanted to, he did not look behind him for signs of the pursuers that had attacked him no more than a half hour ago.

He bashed the door repeatedly, growing more and more desperate by the second.

“Come on!” he muttered, now resorting to kicking violently at the door when his shoulder had grown sore. “Open up! Hijo de puta! Mierda!”

The door eventually gave in, a hinge coming off the wall and allowing Carlos entry to the interior of the building. He threw himself inside the foyer, then dropped his Steyr Aug rifle to the floor to free his hands. He hurriedly spent the next minute overturning the now dead Pepsi vending machine next to the entrance to seal off the entryway he’d just come through. He managed to push the machine right up against the partly intact door to form a modicum of a barricade.

When that was done, he picked up his weapon again and headed further into the school. His heavy panting seemed to bounce loudly off the walls of the school hallway. As he walked briskly, he kept his eyes – now aided by a pair of infrared goggles – on the classrooms on either side and around turns and corners. He listened for anything that might indicate the presence of anyone else in the building.

He kept heading toward the other side of the building. He knew he couldn’t stay in place for long. There was no guarantee this building could keep them out. There were more than a few ways out, but unfortunately, that also meant more than a few ways in.

Carlos lifted his jacket sleeve and fumbled with his TACPAD again. He pulled up the ‘COMMS’ feature and tried to get through to any one of his two other teammates. He initiated a call for the fifth time tonight but was ultimately unable to get through to anyone. He swore profusely under his breath, then finally resorted to leaving an audio message to Owen, the team’s second-in-command.

Recording-in-progress

“Harrier, this is Gamma. Let me know if you’re still out there. I… We, uh… Ermine is down. We were ambushed by… I couldn’t ID them, but they are not US Army. I repeat, they are not US Army. I think they’re tracking me. I’m gonna try to make my way back over to you guys, but I need to know if you and Narwhal are still there. Just… please, call me as soon as you get this. Gamma out.”

Recording complete. Sent.

Carlos headed down the central hallway of the school, using his knowledge of the building’s layout to make his way to the eastern exit. He passed the familiar science laboratories and the marching band’s room, pushing away his fond memories of years gone by in this school and focusing on finding a way out. He wasn’t sure if his pursuers had seen him enter the building, but if they had, he needed to get out again quickly.

Eventually, he made it to the cafeteria, which had a separate entrance and exit from the rest of the school. Carlos pushed open the cafeteria doors and headed inside, meaning to go straight to the exit that he knew would be just about twenty or so steps straight ahead—

A thunderous boom filled the cafeteria, fleetingly startling Carlos, who had no time to react defensively before his leg seemed to collapse under him and bring him toppling to the floor. He screamed in pain as he tried to reach for his fallen rifle beside him, but another boom rang out and transformed his reaching right hand into a bloody stump.

“FUCK!” he shouted, still trying to come to terms that he was now down one hand. “Oh shit, fuck, fuck…!”

He flipped over onto his back and found that a large chunk of his left shin was also missing. He couldn’t move anything below the knee.

“Ahhhh…! God! Shit!” he cried, clutching his right wrist with his one good hand.

He was barely able to hear the approach of footsteps – heavy, confident – over the sounds of his cursing and his throes of agony. He became fully aware only when he saw someone standing over him.

It was a man wearing a dark grey windbreaker, black winter cargo pants, and a black toque. Carlos saw through watering eyes that the man also wore a similar pair of night vision goggles over his eyes, the bottom giving way to fair skin and an unsmiling pair of lips bordered by a full, trimmed beard. The man was wearing a thin ballistic vest that was visible from the unzipped middle of his jacket. In his hands was a Benelli M4 semi-automatic shotgun.

Carlos’ mouth opened slightly in shock, the pains of his current condition momentarily being overridden.

“Wait,” he begged, throwing out his hand to the man standing over him. “What the hell are you doing? No… No, no, wait! Stop!”

The standing man aimed his shotgun straight at Carlos’ heart and fired a shell that punched easily through the fallen man’s own ballistic vest. Carlos Delgado’s good arm fell limply to his side and the operative became still.

The man who shot Carlos reached down, lifted the deceased operative’s left sleeve, and plucked the device mounted to Carlos’ arm brace. He briefly inspected the device, then slid it into an inner pocket of his windbreaker.

After securing the device, the man pulled up his sleeve and swiped several times on his own forearm-mounted device. After several seconds, he placed a finger to the earpiece in his left ear.

“Yes, it’s me, sir. Reporting the elimination of C.O.S. team ‘Tundra’ in Brandon, Manitoba.

“Yes, sir. My team has taken care of the rest. I will send relevant data as soon as we RTB.

“… I understand. Too many cites have begun to pull together… Yes, sir. Brandon will remain safely within US military jurisdiction for a little longer. Tundra is no longer in play.

“Hmm. It’s a risk, but if it comes from the very top, we have no choice. Roger that, my team will return to Ottawa.

“… I thought that was a myth, sir. Does he really exist?

“… I see. Understood. For now, we’ll head back and await further instructions from you. There’s no other choice if we want to keep our cover, as you said.

“Of course, Chairman. Titan copies all. Out.”

The man cut the transmission. After observing the corpse of Carlos ‘Gamma’ Delgado, Code Zero-Eight-Two, for a moment, he turned around and walked out the cafeteria door. A blistering winter gust pushed into the building when he opened the doors, creating a roar-like crescendo against the walls.

The doors shut a few seconds after, leaving the school as silent as it had been merely five minutes ago.