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Old 03-02-2017, 07:07 PM   #59
Icelander
 
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Join Date: Mar 2006
Location: Iceland*
Default Don't They Know It's the End of the World?

Up in the barracks dining hall, Taylor has been talking to the three guards and two orderlies in a steady, non-confrontational voice. He's calmly explaining the inevitability of an overwhelming response by the authorities and the impossibility of defending Jewell Island from all the force that a national government can bring to bear.

Taylor spends a lot of time explaining about the difference between a part-time response team with old gear in a mostly mothballed facility and a top-tier federal hostage rescue team of elite full-time operators equipped with the newest and best of everything, from weapons and sensors to aircraft and satellites. From the body language of the four men in the dining hall, they seem to think that Taylor is making some good points, but there is obviously something other than the current situation they are very worried about.

Taylor: "Like I said, I ain't seen you do nuthin' worth bothering the law for. An' if you figure something you done means you already doomed, mebbe you got it wrong. I reckon you been figuring there's something a-going on here. I guess not all of it's gonna be aired out in a courtroom and the press. Anybody helpin' us end this now might could discover that there's folk who can smooth over a lot."
Guard Lamb: "Who are you?"
Taylor: "Me? Nobody, really. My name is Chase Taylor, right pleased to make y'all's acquintance. I used to be a soldier in the 7th Special Forces Group, but I'm a-working for Homeland Security now. I ain't an agent or anything; I don't even carry a weapon, jes' a notebook I ain't written in yet. Tell the truth, the only reason I come here is that somebody figured Ms. Bell wouldna talk to no government lawyer without somebody she done recollect along. Ya see, I used to know her before she got sent up here. The thing is, boys, we really didn't come here 'bout anything to do with y'all. It's got to do with things before Ms. Bell was even sent up here. An' all we wanted to do was ask her a few questions."
[Taylor shakes his head, slowly and sadly]
Taylor: "Warden Tyrrell done gone ahead and riled himself up a whole heap of trouble. I reckon y'all know that, if'n we is being honest with ourselves. Carry on like him and y'all be left holding the short end of the stick. Him, I figure he's crazy as a loon anyway. You ain't. Not all the way. Y'all can see there ain't no need for killin' and dyin'."
Guard Randall: "Just shut up. It's no use."

Neither Summers nor Lamb have moved closer to Taylor while he talks, but Taylor has taken several small steps forward. The extreme distance everyone is trying to keep suggests that they are very afraid of Taylor for some reason. The dining hall is large, but it's not large enough for all of them to stay 21' away from Taylor and Summers doesn't back away as Taylor approaches. Summers' finger tightens on the trigger, however, and he hesitates, torn between not wanting to shoot a man for taking a step and the awareness that he is losing control of the situation. The orderlies seem to be wishing they were anywhere else and neither of them is even pointing his pistol directly at Taylor any more. Taylor can hear one of the orderlies ask Lamb if it's true that the Coast Guard is coming. Lamb snarls at him to stay focused, think about what happens if they disobey.

James, an orderly: "But what if there's another way..."
Randall: "Are you crazy? She'll kill them all! She'll kill my girl!"
Taylor [gently]: "Who is it gonna kill your girl, Randall? If'n I can help her, I will."
Randall: "Hell, you can't. I'm sorry, but we got orders."
James: "He's talking about Ms. Bell's guards. They've got his little girl. And others."
Gilbert, an orderly: "Stop telling him things!"
Taylor: "I'm very sorry to hear that, Randall. Any of all y'all who got kin at risk. But believe me, their best chance is if'n y'all help me and tell the tactical teams coming in here ever'thing. Rescuing hostages is what they do. An' if you're worried 'bout Ms. Bell harming your kin, she ain't gonna do that. She been tore up real bad, but she ain't gonna do that. I'll get her to agree not to hurt anybody. But y'all hafta work with me."

Randall paces back and forth, giving the impression of a tightly wound spring. Lamb adjusts his position so he can watch Taylor and Randall at the same time. Taylor is now less than 15' away from Summers. Lamb's rifle is no longer aimed directly at Taylor and as far as Taylor can judge, James and Gilbert, the orderlies, are unlikely to react to sudden violence with decisive resolution. That leaves Summers' rifle as the immediate threat and Summers seems to be extremely nervous. Nerves can lead to neglient discharge, which will kill you just as dead as the deliberate kind, but they'll also cause a man to make mistakes.

Taylor figures that a headfake to one side and a rush off the other foot has maybe one chance in two of causing Summers to miss him clean. Even if he hits, a round or two might not be immediately disabling. Say two chances in three that Taylor can reach Summers, hurt him bad and use him as cover from Lamb. Get the rifle from him and Taylor could put everybody in that room down hard in just over a second. Say one chance in two that Taylor could walk away. Get down into the tunnels. Save... save Sherilyn, Lord willin', but save the others, too. An officer, a bureaucrat, a rookie cop and the doc. Non-combatants and on Taylor's side. That makes them his charge, his responsibility.

If something were to distract Summers, the chances jump from possible to probable. Say, if Taylor were to move when the grenade in the kitchen finally goes off. Randall is well within the kill range and both Lamb and Summers would have a good chance of fragment wounds and near certainty of losing their composure. Taylor figures that he'd have better than four chances out of five to get his hands on Lamb's rifle and walking away. Leaving at least three men dead on the ground. Probably five, tight quarters and they've all got guns, even if two of them hold theirs like they might bite. Men with loved ones, men who don't want to be there, men who might be as much victims as villains.

Taylor: "Randall, could you kindly step away from the kitchen? I dunno when that doohickey will go off and you's well within the lethal range of an M67 grenade. I'd sure hate to kill anyone on accident."

Randall stalks into the dining hall, moving closer to Taylor and Summers. As he does, Randall notices for the first time that Lamb's rifle is aiming more at him than Taylor. He stops abrubtly with a surprised look on his face.

Lamb: "It doesn't matter what this guy tells us. We do what we're told. It's the only hope we can give them."
Randall: "I never said any different."
Lamb: "You're thinking it, though."
Taylor: "Everybody's thinking it, Lamb. You ain't gotta do this."

There is a muffled thump somewhere underground. It's followed almost instantly by a short burst of rifle fire that only Taylor can hear. Then an assault rifle on three-round burst fired wildly, as fast as the shooter can pull the trigger. A pause, long enough to reload. After that, two rifles and a pistol are emptied in wild shooting. Taylor's breath is caught in his throat. He closes his eyes. Desperately, he thinks: It doesn't sound right. Only one flashbang. No pause for the assaulters to enter before the firing starts. No aiming, no disciplined bursts, no pause between bursts to move.

There is no more fire from down below. And Taylor knows that no matter what he tells himself, the odds are excellent that what he heard didn't sound right because it was just a sloppy entrance by part-time guards. Even a sloppy tactical team is more than enough to overwhelm Burr, O'Toole... and Sherilyn. Killing them along with the Doc, Townsend and Berrocal. Unaimed rifle fire at close quarters is probably as lethal as it needs to be against untrained people stunned by a flashbang. No more fire means it's probably over. They are probably all dead down there. Because Taylor didn't come help them. Killed by guards. Men like these guards. Because of these guards. Taylor slowly raises his eyes upwards.

Gilbert: "Did you hear that? What the hell was it?"
Taylor [tired voice without affect]: "That was a flashbang. Tactical teams use them for assaulting fixed positions. Reckon it's too soon for HRT. Might could be Coast Guard tactical law enforcement, if they had a team ready to go immediately when they got the first call. Don't make no matter who it is. It's over. Any man with a weapon in his hand dies."
Lamb: "You're lying."
Taylor [moving toward Summers, eyes locked on his]: "Lay down your weapons. Y'all still got a choice. Don't let it end in more death. Please, all y'all, jes' lay them down. Choose to go on livin'."
[voice breaking]
Taylor: "Please help me... help me save somebody from this mess."

James the orderly drops his pistol to the floor. Summers lowers his rifle, no longer aiming at Taylor. Randall takes a step forward with a lowered rifle, but stops when Lamb aims at him in a firing position. Lamb's eyes keep flickering over to Taylor and Lamb seems terrified that no one has shot him yet. Gilbert, the other orderly, is still holding his pistol and tries to aim it at Taylor. Gilbert is white as a sheet and his gun is swaying, his finger straining at the trigger. Taylor ignores him and keeps walking, turning his back on Gilbert.

Gilbert: "Stop, man! Don't make me shoot!"
Taylor: "There's a fire in the kitchen an' the sprinklers ain't enough to put it out. Any moment now, a grenade goes off. If'n it do, we all still close enough for fragments. I'm fixin' to go in there an' disable the grenade. Cain't have us dyin' now. Jes' don't shoot me in the back while I'm a-trying to help you."
Lamb: "What the hell?!"

A single shot rings out.
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Last edited by Icelander; 03-03-2017 at 04:45 AM.
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