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…and the shitty-ass door splintered in.
Mike stepped aside and Doug breached, fast and high, his Glock 23 raised. The unit-members behind him swept low. His eyes registered everything withing seconds. The living room, if that’s what you could call it, was empty. And a trashy mess.
“Clear,” he called out.
Doug waited as several other squads entered, taking that opportunity to have a better look around.
Clothes were strewn everywhere. Open pizza boxes with crusts in various forms of decomposition lay discarded on every surface. Glasses with moldy remains of juice, soda, and most likely beer littered the one lopsided coffee table that was held up with a cinderblock.
Disgusting. Doug’s gut tightened. What had the poor child witnessed, living within these walls?
Doug canted his head toward the kitchen, and was immediately backed up by his best bud, Cisco—the recently promoted LT of Squad B—and several additional squad members.
“Clear,” Doug eventually called out, after they’d opened every closet door and cabinet.
Then all of them—fifteen at this point, reconvened in the living room.
“That leaves four doors off the hallway. All closed,” Mason apprised. He pulled his phone from his pocket and studied it. “The building plans I downloaded indicate that the first door on the left is a closet, the second is a bathroom. The two doors on the right are bedrooms.” He lowered his voice and spoke to Mike. “Clear the closet and bathroom, first.”
The big man took point, keeping his spine to the wall as he turned the first knob. Doug went around him and took aim as he swung it wide.
Nothing except a vacuum, a broom, and a stack of old newspapers.
One down.
Cisco opened the bathroom door in a similar way, but this time three of his squad rushed in, hauling back the shower curtain, and opening another door to reveal a linen closet.
“Clear,” they all barked at the same time.
“That leaves the two bedrooms,” Mason grunted. “I’m going to give the asshole a chance he doesn’t deserve, then we go in.” He stepped to the side of the first door. “Mr. Nesbit, I’m giving you one more opportunity. Come out with your hands up, or we’re coming in.”
“Come in and I’ll kill her,” a muffled voice answered from within.
Immediately, Mason indicated the second bedroom with a cant of his head, and Briar, the leader of Squad K, moved quietly to the door and threw it open.
Her voice immediately shouted out. “Victim on the bed.”
With backup, she disappeared inside as Mason called for an ambulance. Alvero, their team medic, was also hot on her heels, and began immediately barking out what he found.
“Female. Age approximately 25. GSW to the upper torso. Pulse weak and thready,” Alvero called out. “I need hands to carry her.”
“Get her to the entrance. An ambulance will be waiting,” Mason shot back, as several team members entered the room to help with the victim.
Goddamned prick, with his goddamned gun, Doug fumed. If that scumbag so much as harmed a hair on that little girl’s head…
“Breathe, Doug.” Cisco came up behind him, and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get her out. But you need to focus.”
Cisco, thank God, could always bring him back when his mind began to veer into dark territory, and Doug listened to him now, knowing that all his attention had to be on the op.
“I’m good,” he told his friend.
Mason turned to the team, keeping his voice low. “It sounds to me like he’s on the far side of the room. His voice was muted, so he’s most likely taking cover behind the bed. We go in hot, but no shots fired unless our perp fires first. We can’t risk the little girl.”
Doug’s gut tightened. The girl was all that mattered, and the entire team knew it.
“Mike,” Mason called quietly, indicating that the A-team leader should employ the battering ram for the second time.
Doug, as before, moved in right behind Mike, with Cisco and a group of others athisrear. This would all go very quickly now.
