Sweet Dreams (WJA Series Book 1)

Chapter 26

“Yes. It’s our equipment, the good stuff!” Big B smiled and tore into the crate. The bananas were, in fact, M249s, Squad automatic weapons, and one M2 50cal. sniper rifle. Big B tossed the sniper rifle to Mark, along with a scope and a few clips of ammo.

After the contents of the box were emptied, Big B loaded his backpack with Claymore mines, hand grenades, and a few biological bombs. Isis had a machine gun and a belt loaded with throwing darts dipped with a tranquilizer.

Jamison, wearing thermal glasses, threw each person a small earpiece that linked them all together. Jamison’s call sign was lookout. He was in charge of clearing the way and being their eyes and ears.

Big B was groundkeeper, charged with ensuring they had whatever diversion needed and that their butts were covered in case of a problem.

Isis and Mark would go in hot. Mark had a long-range rifle. Isis had short-range charges and the knockout power. Mark inspected his weapon. His rifle folded in two parts. In the full lockout position, it was loaded with a plastic bullet filled with a chemical called Liquid Metal.

Similar to mixing concrete powder with water, Liquid Metal would hit the blood stream and mix with incredible speed. In a matter of seconds, the victim would lose all motor skills and vision. The blood would carry it through the body, which would harden head to toe in less than ten seconds, leaving the victim stiff and dead.

The best part was that the victim could not scream or cry for help, making it the perfect weapon for this type of mission.

Mark also carried a sidearm, a fifty-round air gun that could shoot semi-automatic or full auto. The tiny darts were filled with liquid explosives that would penetrate the skin and explode within half a second. The only sound was a puff of air, then a faint pop as the mini-bomb scrambled the victim’s insides.

Johnny Jamison went over the plan one more time as they assembled their gear. As anxious as they all were, they had to wait one more hour until it was completely dark. Mark tried to hide his fear. What if his team was too late? He couldn’t bear to think he might fail K and Sam again.

* * *

KIRK COULD FEEL HIS head swim and the glass dig into his knees and hands as he crawled down the hall, trying to make it to an empty cell.

All he hoped was that the other cells weren’t covered with glass, too. He made it to the last door, reached up, and turned the doorknob.

It was open.

He rolled inside and gritted his teeth as bits of metal and glass, already embedded into his back, dug in deeper. He felt around and discovered the new room was free of shards. He lay on his back, trying to get a second wind. He’d left a blood trail. It wouldn’t take a genius to find him.

Let them come.

He was in the mood to tangle with a guard or two. Pain will either break or make a man, and it was making him madder by the minute.

After he worked the glass from his hands and knees, he found an old pillowcase on the mattress in the corner of the room. He tore it into pieces and wrapped his feet to stop the bleeding. Besides his feet, the busted ribs and miscellaneous cuts and bruises, he could tell he had a broken nose. He limped toward the door and looked out into the hall.

He needed a weapon. Something—anything. He scanned the floor. Most of the glass was broken into little pieces, but some of the metal chunks were just the right size for a makeshift knife.

He picked up two long, sharp, four-inch pieces and wrapped them on one end with the last bits of the pillowcase. He made his way through the door at the end of the hall and could hear voices coming from a door off to the left. It was back the way he had come, over the glass-lined floor. Finding the same crate he had hidden behind earlier, Kirk shook his head. Déjà-vu all over again.