31. The Light
Chapter 31
The Light
Griff
The way to kill someone quietly was simple. Knife across the larynx. They’ll gurgle and sputter as the air bubbled out of their throat, but it’d escape before the air could vibrate their vocal cords and turn into a scream.
I wiped my boot knife across my pant leg, cleaning it before placing it in its sheath. The body at my feet gurgled and spluttered. He was fighting for life, but he’d lose that battle soon, just like he lost his little melee to me.
Three dead. At least by me. Who knows what the others had done.
That was the thing about the Prodigal Sons. They might be full of veterans, but not all veterans were made the same.
I wasn’t the kind of shit bag that thought you had to be a grunt for your service to be important to a war effort. In fact, I appreciated the fuck out of a good S-4 Logistician, and a smart S-1 Admin type. But you should leave the grunt shit to grunts. Leave the operations to operators.
Don’t stick the paralegal into the middle of a tactical squad and send them into combat.
That’s what the Prodigal Sons did. All veterans welcome, regardless of their skills. And then they thrust them into grunt roles.
Sierra gave me a nod, as her black clad form snuck up to the door, M4 assault rifle slung over her shoulder, her balaclava over her mouth, but below her nose. We had started out with NVGs - Night Vision Goggles - but had flipped them up as soon as we approached the open area of the building, so we weren’t blinded by the security lights overhead. The inside of the building was still lit, and people inside were up and about.
We would have cut their power, but we worried that forewarning them like that would land a bullet in Taz’s head.
I looked at the satellite phone, where we routed the beacon of her tracker, letting it get as precise a location as it would go - good within one meter. I turned the little picture around, until I got a clear image. With my finger, I pointed up, to indicate she was on the second floor above us. Daria nodded, passing the information to the man behind her - Goose, or Veder. I couldn’t tell in the black and gray get-ups we wore.
They relayed the information and gesture back, until every man on the team was aware.
Me, Sierra, Goose, Veder, Top, and Charlotte. The latter, apparently, was the liaison for Paradigm, her radio linking to Brett who was on standby with the Medevac and the Paradigm Quick Reaction Force, QRF, who were primed and ready to get to us if things went sideways.
As we all entered, she’d stay outside, covering our egress, and keeping comms with our assets.
If we didn’t need them, and managed to secure the hosta— Taz, then their only job would be to come in and sanitize or stage the scene.
That was the best case. The one I hoped for more than anything.
But all hopes were dashed, when the sound of gunfire cracked overhead, and the flash of a muzzles lit up the upstairs window.
Son of a bitch.
If she was dead, nothing would stop me from scorching the earth, and bleeding every Prodigal Son dry, drip by bloody drip.