Gitmo 42: Breach

The alarm went off. I expected some trouble- I’d wounded Hamdi’s ego too much for him to let it slide. It was a GPS, on the edge of the range of their little electric cage. The fact that whoever it was had jumped back over the line meant dick; there was a curfew, and he was supposed to be in his home.

“Monty?” I called in, opening the door into the cell. It was empty. “Well fuck,” I said. I got the shotgun out of the safe and checked the GPS map. The marker belonged to Mustafa. I picked up my radio and keyed it. “Orange cat?”

“What’s up, blue dog?”

“Mustafa’s taking a walk, and it looks like my deputy has, too.”

“And him we still don’t have tagged. Ain’t that a shit and anchovie pizza?”

“I’m going to go have a talk with Mustafa. Watch my ass for movement. It’s dark and I don’t want to get caught up.”

“Absolutely. You sure you don’t want some back-up. Ready response team lives for this kind of shit, and I live for waking up assholes in the middle of the night who are smug about getting to sleep regular fucking hours.”

“Belay that.” I noticed the lights inside Hamdi’s place were all on, so I walked up to his door and knocked. He opened it almost immediately. The fucker was wide awake, and smiled at me. “Good morning, officer.”

“I wanted to look you in the eyes for this part, shitheel.” I set my radio to the intercom. “Emergency lockdown. Everybody in their homes, now.” I let the button go. “And if I see you, Hamdi, edge so much as a toenail over the threshold, door or window,” I raised the shotgun, but he just smiled.

“Allah watch you,” he said as I turned away. 

Mustafa’s was two houses down. The lights were all out. Front door was barricaded; I unlocked it, but furniture was pressed against it. So I went around the house, between Mustafa’s and Hamdi’s was Ramzi’s place. I didn’t like being so close to it so soon after.

I didn’t have to focus on it long. Mustafa’s window was open. But he couldn’t have climbed back through there, it was too high off the ground, and if he was showing as back inside, that meant the back door had to be open.

I started to circle the house, but as soon as I was passed the window someone dropped down behind me, from the roof. There wasn’t enough room to properly turn with the shotgun, but I tried to bring it around, anyway, and fired. The shot went off, too damned high to be dangerous to anything but the birds, and something heavy and metal hit me in the face, pot or a damn pan. I went down, knowing I was losing consciousness, and wouldn’t even feel hitting the ground.