The Plant Janitor (Three of Three) (702 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: Fiction
Rating: 2 on 20 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Jack11058 (View user info) at 2005-06-18 10:03:31 EDT
Inside Pilgrim Nuclear Reactor
Upstate New York
0143 hours
The earpiece crackled to life, and Ali dropped back from his group just a bit, trying to hear over the sound of automatic weapons fire echoing through the hallways ahead.
"Sword One to Emir. Local police on site," came the Syrian-accented Arabic.
"Emir to all Swords. Engage."
"Confirmed, Emir." Before the radio clicked off, he heard the echoing boom of a .50 caliber Barrett rifle snap through the airwaves. The county cops didn't stand a chance.
Ali grabbed Kamal's arm and brought him up to the next intersection. They all had the plans to the building memorized; they were very close to the Operations Center now. He only had three men of his 17-man assault force left besides him and Kamal, but the losses expected. The plant had a large guard force, and many of them were former military.
Only one more corner to turn and they would enter the final hallway. Ali looked up and saw a bright red sign dangling on two chains from the ceiling. It confirmed they were almost at their goal.
Muhammad, the point man of his remaining men, cautiously rounded the corner and promptly had his head taken off by a well-placed shotgun blast.
-=-=-=-=-
Site Control Operations Center
0144 hours
George Martinez crouched behind his overturned desk and hoped the old metal would offer some protection from the bastards hiding around the end of the hallway. He had gotten one so far, with a clean shot from his Mossberg. There would have to be more, though, if they had made it this far. He rested the barrel of the shotgun over the lip of the desk, and without looking, reached down and lifted picked up the telephone once more. Still no dial tone.
Shit.
A muzzle flash from down the hall, and the echoing booms of an AK-74 firing on full automatic filled the world. He ducked as low as he could while 5.45-millimeter rounds thudded into the walls all around him. Several punched through the thin metal of the desk, and one of them grazed his right arm before plunking into the concrete behind him. Ricochets whined overhead as red-hot pain seared from his grazed arm.
George went prone firing two quick blasts down the hallway for good measure, racking the slide like a champ, thinking back to his early Marine Corps days, nearly thirty years ago. He was way too old for this shit, but he had a job to do.
A grenade came skittering around the corner and down the hallway toward him. He shimmied back behind the desk and went fetal, hoping for the best.
The grenade hit Timmy's overturned mop bucket and came to a stop in the middle of the hallway. The concussion of the explosion sent needles of pain into George's eardrums. His head was ringing like a bell. He could hear them shouting to each other in Arabic. Whatever was left of them would be coming for him now.
He pulled himself groggily to his feet and chambered a round.
Semper Fi, fuckers.
=-=-=-=-=-
Site Control Operations Center
0144 hours
The doors hissed open, and two men stepped through. The younger one was first in the door, and an older man wearing a funny dark blue vest over his shirt came in behind him. The first carried a gun and threw something casually aside as he came through the door. Timmy watched from the shadows in the corner as the thing (small and pink and red) rolled along the smooth tile floor toward him. His head hurt from the loud booms outside the door, and he had trouble focusing his eyes, so he stared at the small pink thing until the world came back together, ignoring the man with the gun who was shouting and gesturing at Terrence and John.
It was a thumb. He could tell from the big nail on the end of it. There was no hand attached to the thumb, no arm, no person. Just a little stump of red at the end of it.
Timmy recognized the thumb. He had seen it nearly every day for the past six years, pressed into the green light pad outside the doors, which would always open for that thumb. It was George's thumb. His friend George.
Timmy looked up at the two men who came through the door with George's thumb. Bad men. The one with the gun was gesturing wildly and yelling at Terrence and John, who were backing away against the far wall, away from the equipment.
Then the gun man looked over his shoulder at the older man behind him. Timmy was thankful he looked over his left shoulder and not his right, or he would have seen Timmy staring at him from the shadows.
"Did they get it shut down, Kamal?" he asked.
"Not all the way. I need 10 minutes to reach overload."
"Very well," the man replied. "Get it done, by the will of God."
"Yes, Ali," the older man with the blue vest replied quietly. He turned to the big wall of flashing lights, dials and knobs that all so fascinated Timmy even after all the years of mopping this room.
Timmy's eyes were wrenched away by two loud bangs. The bad man with the gun had shot Terrence and John. John slid down the wall silently, leaving a trail of red on the white behind him. His eyes were closed. Terrence was making horrible sounds, like choking. He stumbled toward the man with the gun, clutching at his throat.
Something shattered inside Timmy Hill. Something else woke up.
Ali shot the stumbling black man again, center mass this time, and watched him go down. He turned to Kamal.
"How much time?"
Kamal turned to reply to him, and Ali saw his eyes widen, focused on a point over his left shoulder.
Ali whipped around, raising his AK-74 one-handed.
What he saw made no sense. A boy's face, open mouthed and screaming, on the body of a man. A huge man, with a metal stool clutched in one upraised arm. The stool came whipping down in a blur of grey and Ali fired.
=-=-=-=-=-=-
Pilgrim Nuclear Reactor
0535 hours
It was lightening in the east, warming up just a bit. Maldonado leaned back against the wall and lit a cigarette. His partner, Baumgartner, pointed wordlessly at the no-smoking sign on the wall next to him. Maldonado slowly lifted his arm and extended his middle finger. Baumgartner nodded. No hard feelings. A county cop exited through the charred doorway to the plant and approached Maldonado uneasily.
They were all still nervous. It had taken two hours, the lives of six state and local cops and, finally, a National Guard Huey gunship to clear the armored towers of terrorists.
"The technicians are telling me there's no permanent damage done to the system, Agent Maldonado," the cop said. "Looks like the engineers got the reactor mostly powered down, and the perps didn't have a chance to make any changes to the controls."
He was young, and still coltish—hadn't seen anything like this before. Well, neither had Maldonado for that matter. He nodded at the cop and crushed out his cigarette on the no-smoking sign. He took a deep breath of the still air.
He stepped gingerly over to stand next to Baumgartner. They looked down for a moment at the two bodies resting against the wall, not speaking. Baumgartner cocked his head at his partner.
"So you're saying big boy here bludgeoned both of those control center assholes to death with a stool, dragged this guard out here, and ate half a Baby Ruth before he bled out?"
Maldonado just grunted, still looking down at the body of Timothy Hillman, aged 26, of Nyack, New York.
Timmy (they would later learn he liked to be called) was sitting with his back against the outside wall of the plant with his legs splayed out in front of him. His hands were curled gently in his lap, clutching the peeled-back wrapper and chocolate remnants of a candy bar. His mouth was stained with it, and his slow-looking almond eyes were upturned and peaceful. The shattered body of George Martinez was slumped next to Timmy's on the blood-soaked earth, and his mouth too was marked with flakes of chocolate, as if Timmy had tried to share his snack with his friend.
"The fucking janitor," Baumgartner muttered.
He let out a long sigh and turned back to the parking lot of the plant, to retrieve their sedan. Maldonado stayed a moment later, until the first rays of the morning sun touched the ground at Timmy Hill's feet. The coroners would be getting to this area soon, and Maldonado was glad for the new day that shone down on the boy one last time.
User Reviews
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2006-01-14 07:39:13 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You seem to keep your best stuff for these three parters.
Sadly my best stuff doesn't come close to your weaker offerings.
Awesome story, should be read by more people.
-Dave
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-06-25 07:58:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
cuberat, you are a douche.
Submitted by cuberat (user info) at 2005-06-24 16:58:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Sweet story, but it would have been better if the retard's name would have been Bush - George Bush.
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-06-22 08:06:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I always publish good shit on saturdays.
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2005-06-22 07:58:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Don't post good shit on Saturdays.
Submitted by doctorj24 (user info) at 2005-06-20 17:34:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Congrats on Bump being published. Like I said in my last review, I would buy this stuff. Let us know if you ever do get out a book - I'll be first in line to buy it.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-06-20 16:43:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
dude, I don't even know if I want to vote for you in UMIII, you and that AK-74 are TOO DANGEROUS!!!
(yeah, you know I'll vote for ya)
Submitted by jack11058 (user info) at 2005-06-20 12:17:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Mario (user info) at 2005-06-20 08:29:47 (#)
Ranking: 2
When are you going to start getting paid for this, Jack? Tell me when you publish your first book.
-=-=-=-
LT, I just received my first check for writing something, believe it or not.
In December 2005, the Dan River Anthology, published by the Conservatory of American Letters, will feature my Ubermadness II entry "Bump" (http://www.ubersite.com/m/48761).
I will actually get royalties if it sells well. Trust me, brother, when that thing hits the shelves of Amazon.com, I will be whoring it out big time.
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-06-20 08:43:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 on 12 reviews, and only 107 hits?
THAT'S JUST LAZINESS PEOPLE.
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-06-20 08:43:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This, by far, is the most underread series on this entire website.
Submitted by Mario (user info) at 2005-06-20 08:29:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
When are you going to start getting paid for this, Jack? Tell me when you publish your first book.
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-06-19 14:23:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Heheh. TIMMAH!
Great story, by the way.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-06-19 09:57:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Arg reading this made me jealous. Sometimes your writing is what I wish mine could be like: powerful but streamlined. I talk too much, which is why my 10 part series is still going strong at part 15.
I like the research you did with guns, adds a nice touch to the action scenes. I like how Timmy came into play in the story.
TIMMAH!!
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2005-06-19 04:31:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Damn, less than 100 hits and 8 reviews.
Blame it on the name: Baumgartner
And the: Mossberg Shotgun
I would.
Great story!
Submitted by CoffeeAndSmokes (user info) at 2005-06-18 22:49:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
60 hits and five reviews? Bullshit, says I. This needs more attention. More I say!
VOTE JACK11058 FOR UBERMADNESS III
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-06-18 20:14:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Good story, told well.
Submitted by omnifica (user info) at 2005-06-18 19:11:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
a masterpiece, as always. i love you
Submitted by hawkeynut (user info) at 2005-06-18 15:43:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Awesome Job
Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2005-06-18 10:54:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Good series, thanks.
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-06-18 10:26:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent.