The Reaper: No Mercy Read online

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  They heard the racing engines first, and then the staccato sounds of gunfire resounded within the confines of the office building they were in. Janet looked up from the AR-15 she was cleaning with Scott's help, and exclaimed. "They're at it again, they're attacking someone."

  "Yes, sounds like the manor from the direction of the gunfire." Scott sighed as he quickly reassembled the weapon. "Nothing we can do. Cut all interior lights and stay hidden."

  "No! We might be able to help!" Janet was standing now and facing Scott.

  "Absolutely not."

  "We might make the difference between another group surviving or not!" Janet balled her fists up in frustration as she glared at the leader of their survivor group, a pleading look on her face.

  Scott looked up at her while drumming the tips of his fingers lightly on the upper receiver of the weapon he had just re-assembled, and slowly nodded. "You're right, and you can come under one condition. I'll take three men and three of the women including you to do a very careful scout from the side. We'll stay between the houses and enter the last through the back door. Then we'll watch. If there are too many for us to make a difference, we're getting the hell out of there. If it looks like something we can handle, then we'll help. Janet, you have to promise you will not fire until I do. Promise, or you're not going."

  "I promise."

  Thirty minutes later they were peering through the blinds in the front windows of a newer, ranch-style home. Four large windows dotted the front, affording them all a clear view of the proceedings a block and a half away. They had circled southeast, then north to arrive at the home, and could clearly see the front and side of the manor that resided across the intersection from their position.

  "It's too many, they're going to be overrun any minute," murmured Scott as he held the binoculars to his eyes, scanning the area.

  "Damnit!" hissed Janet in frustration as she watched the scene before them. She saw that the survivors in the manor had made a barricade of empty vehicles around the building, but the barricade was being pushed aside by two large trucks bearing snowplow blades. Suddenly, just as one of those trucks was about to push another car away, it lurched to a stop, the driver spilling out the side door and falling to the ground. "Wait, what's happening?"

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  "Any questions on the plan?" the Reaper inquired as he prepared to climb the cell tower right at the edge of the city, east of town.

  "No. It's simple enough, Reaper. You start shooting, they'll spot you sooner versus later, we'll be set up in that heavy stand of trees off Caldwell to the south to take them as they come for your position. If too many arrive, we'll relocate another block south, take up position. Remove more, then circle around to the tower again from the northeast. We'll have line of sight on the tower most of the time, so if they start climbing, we'll drop them like flies."

  "What I'm counting on, Shue!"

  "Then let's do this. Payback’s gonna be a bitch," responded Schuster, obviously quoting some movie dialog from his tone.

  "We need to put a major hurt on them so they give us enough time for resupply, Shue."

  "A major hurt it will be, Reaper," and Schuster was grinning as he ran, his men following closely behind.

  The Reaper crested the top of the cellular tower and brushed the snow off its domed surface. A wool blanket was quickly thrown down, then he removed a small sandbag from his satchel, placing it near the edge. Many snipers used the standard issue bipod for sniping, but the Reaper did not. More than once early in his career the bipod had slipped or wobbled at exactly the wrong moment, causing a miss. A sand bag did not! Resting his Remington 700 modified M40A1 against its soft surface, he quickly arrayed the fourteen ten-round magazines of 7.62 x 51mm on the blanket beside him, the fifteenth magazine he carried already seated in the magazine well of his rifle.

  This time Jason was not wearing his combat vest, as it would only have gotten in the way. He needed to relax and concentrate on the targets without outside distractions. Sprawling flat with his legs spread wide for stability, he flipped the magnetic scope covers up, then peered at the scene before him. Interesting, he thought as his hand slid upward to grasp the receiver bolt and rotate the first round into position.

  Nine-hundred yards ahead were his targets, and from his side vantage point, using the high-powered scope, it appeared as if he was looking over the shoulder of the marauders. Slowly he panned his view back and forth while adjusting for distance and wind, noting the number of men and equipment they had brought to the assault. He smiled grimly and concentrated on the snowplows. The trucks were quickly clearing a path through the barricade the survivors’ group had hastily created.

  While heavily armored with a huge blade mounted in front, these trucks were defenseless from the sides and back, allowing the Reaper to use that to his advantage as he sighted in, released his breath, and then fired his first round.

  An explosion of red mist and the truck was lurching to a stop, rewarding him with a confirmed kill, but he was already tracking on the next vehicle as he’d known the shot would be true.

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  Oh Christ, they were in the inner courtyard, pushing the makeshift barricade aside. The stone fence surrounding the manor had been only a minor inconvenience once the cars were pushed out of the way, and in moments, Tom knew they would breach the front of their safe house. Somewhere inside he could hear the screams of frightened children, and hardening his resolve, he rotated back into position, ready to kill as many as possible before one of them got him. Tom knew he needed to stop those barricade wreckers but it was proving impossible to do so. The heavy plow blades were impervious to his rounds, and only when the trucks turned did he get a clear shot at the drivers. Even then, the bastards had placed plate steel over the windows on the sides to obstruct return fire.

  He was hyperventilating and knew they were all about to die, but just maybe he could remove a last few before they were overrun. His rifle was in position, his finger caressing the trigger as he aimed at the tiny aperture, when the closest vehicle turned sideways. Bewildered, he vaguely saw a slumped-over figure inside the cab, yet put a round through the opening anyways before the truck next to it also rolled to a stop. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a tiny flash atop the local cell tower and immediately he knew who it was. Then he was ducking back as rounds peppered the cowling surrounding the narrow window.

  It's the Reaper, he breathed to himself. It had to be. Hope blossomed within him as he scuttled to the next window in line. He had not used it in over a minute and it should be safe to fire from once or twice. As he prepared to rotate into position and fire, his main thought was that he hoped the Reaper was as good as he appeared to be. Then Tom was rounding the corner, his rifle lifting to fire again.

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  The Reaper paused as he swiftly swapped out the first magazine for his second. His body was relaxed, his heartbeat steady, as he took each soul in the Lord's name,. Ten down and many more to go, he thought as he sighted in on a man shooting down into the manor from a nearby building. The crosshairs followed the man's every action as Jason timed the movements, then his finger tightened as another round was sent downrange and the other slumped in place, his rifle falling over the edge of the roof. Purgatory’s line was growing this day, and the Reaper was partially satisfied as he minutely shifted to bring his rifle to bear on the group of marauders near the front entrance to the domicile. He still had one hundred and forty rounds left in magazines. The thump of the stock against his shoulder indicated another round fired, this one taking a marauder through the back of the head, only to continue on to take the one before him between the shoulder blades. Two targets serviced, and the Reaper was shifting aim again. Soon they would spot him, and the slight grin that appeared on his face spoke volumes to the hurt these marauders were about to receive.

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  The staccato of gunfire from a few blocks over was impossible to ignore. It sounded like World War Three, Andy thoug
ht, as he and Bruce dropped the sacks of supplies they carried and took cover behind nearby shrubs. Looking behind them, Andy quickly waved at Darcie who was just leaving the home they had raided, carrying an equally large bag of staples and other items. Without hesitation, she ducked back inside while Andy conferred with Bruce.

  "I think the bad guys are hitting the manor again."

  "Yeah, that would be my guess as well. Should we take a look?"

  "Hell no, we should get our asses back to the church and take cover. We ..." Andy started to say when he was interrupted by much louder gunfire, this time coming from a block to their south and maybe two blocks east, while at the same time upward? Andy rolled over and, shielding his eyes against the morning sunlight, saw a tiny insect-like figure atop the city's lone cell tower, firing steadily every few seconds. The man's tiny rifle was unmistakable and Andy knew it was the Reaper living up to his name. "It's the Reaper, firing downward in the direction of the manor."

  "What's going on?" It was Darcie, who had left the protection of the home they were just in to join them. For a second Andy considered the act one of seeming recklessness, then smiled as he gripped her thigh lovingly. She loved her man as much as he loved her, and that was really all that mattered.

  "Looks like the manor is being attacked and the Reaper is on top of the tower helping them." Andy pointed and a second later Darcie was also able to make out the Reaper's form. The steady boom of a high-powered rifle from the man's position also helped. "Baby, I want you to go back to the church and wait for us there. Bruce and I are going to get a closer look, and no, we won't take any chances."

  "Hell no, I'm coming with you!" Darcie's voice had instantly risen, and quickly Andy hushed her, then pointed out, "You need to be with our children. We're only going to do some scouting and we've done this before."

  "I don't like it one bit, Andy Kiwacz!" Andy could tell she was mad but that her resolve to accompany him had weakened.

  "I love you baby," he said, giving her a quick kiss. "Now go back to the church. It's only two blocks away and the route we picked is hidden, with no visible zombies."

  "Fine, but don't turn this into a bad habit, Andy!"

  "Yes dear." Andy grinned at her rapidly departing back then turned to Bruce. "You still have your grenades on you?"

  "You betcha!"

  "Then let's go," and with that said, Andy took off at a low run towards the Reaper’s position. In moments, they neared the end of the street and Andy slowed. Looking left and right for a good position to view from, he spotted an aluminum extension ladder next to the home on their right. Grabbing Bruce's arm, he pointed it out and they quickly scaled its metal rungs to the roof, then carefully peered over the ridge. They had a full view of the main street running east and west. Four blocks west was the manor, where dozens of vehicles could be seen racing around in circles while small clumps of men on foot fired into the defenders’ position.

  "Wow!" breathed Bruce.

  "Yeah, no shit, right?"

  "I could fire from here but not sure if I'll actually hit anyone."

  "Don't, it would just give our position away. We'll wait here and see what happens."

  Beside him, Bruce nodded as they continued to watch the scene unfold.

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  Chapter 14

  Staff Sergeant Schuster was ecstatic. For the first time in over a week, they were finally doing something against the marauders. He checked the magazine in his M4 once again as he crouched with the others: ready, willing and most able to put a hurt on these bastards when they came after the Reaper. For that was assured. It was simple playbook tactics. ‘React to sniper’ was not something normally taught to gang leaders, and Shue relished the pain they were about to inflict.

  "You guys ready?" he whispered. A chorus of agreement answered his question and, looking over at the others, he saw identical expressions of glee mixed with vengeance. Grady, Adams and Hendrix were crouched behind the larger trees, deep in the woods. All of them had clear firing lanes into the street fronting the cell tower. Now it was only a matter of time. Signaling to stay sharp, Shue settle in, his carbine raised and waited.

  Forward and above, Shue heard the Reaper start firing. Heavy booms sounded as each shot rang out. It was amazing how fast the rounds were being released, and Shue knew there would be action soon.

  "Sharpen it up. It's going down," he called out. The others didn't respond, but Shue knew they heard him. All were professionals and this was an easy job. He leaned into the tree as he sighted through his Aimpoint down his area of responsibility and continued to wait.

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  A commotion to the right suddenly caught the Reaper's eye. There! Over a half-dozen marauders were attempting to get through a ground floor window. The Reaper could see the shadowy forms of defenders inside striking out at the intruders as they cleared hastily-nailed boards away in an attempt to gain entrance. The Reaper growled. A straight shot might send the exiting round careening inside the home, hitting one of those within, which was something he did not want to risk. He lowered his aim instantly, breathed out, and fired. The round immediately impacted the small of an attacker’s back and traveling through, disintegrated against the fieldstone and brick wall before him. Then, as the attacker’s screaming, paralyzed form was falling earthward, the Reaper was already firing again, then again as marauders fell in waves from the window opening. The Reaper never missed, and was once again exchanging magazines in a smooth, unconscious movement.

  Over twenty down, and the living spawn of Satan have finally noticed me, he thought contemptuously. The Reaper's gaze was empty as he noted the vehicles turning around in his direction, and once again he shifted his position while aiming lower still. The cross hairs lined up, the diamond illuminated, and the round took the foremost truck through the windshield, straight into the driver’s face. Jason idly noticed the vehicle turning sideways then rolling over as his aim was already focused on the next in line. Tinted front windows always make it a partial challenge, so the Reaper focused on what he could see and automatically adjusted. The driver's hands and forearms on the steering wheel told Jason exactly where the torso would be. He fired, and this time watched as the truck continued in a straight line for a score of feet before finally veering to the side, hitting a telephone pole. The remaining dozen were headed straight at him, but as they crossed the intersection with Hill Street, his team opened fire.

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  Andy and Bruce watched the trucks racing down the street, then witnessed the Reaper take out two; in that microsecond, they knew he didn't have enough time to relocate before the marauders arrived at the tower he was perched on.

  They decided to act.

  "Give me your frag, and take my thermite. I hope your pitching arm is up for it, Bruce. I'll try to disable them and you aim for a window or truck bed," Andy spoke quickly as he pulled the pin on one of the two fragmentary grenades in his hands. Andy knew the canister grenade he'd handed Bruce was an incendiary device because they'd tested one when neither understood the markings painted on the side. It had burned for a considerable amount of time and destroyed everything it touched. Thermite was the only explanation they could arrive at. "We have to help the Reaper or they'll be climbing that tower like ants. Get ready, man!"

  "Ready," Bruce replied as both rose into a kneeling position, and Andy's arm went back before slinging forward—fast! As the fragmentation grenade left his palm, its spoon whipping off to the side, he heard gunfire coming from their left. The dark green ovoid arced high overhead in its parabolic trajectory, and he saw the trucks swerving back and forth. Someone else was helping, and Andy's hopes soared.

  "Throw, Bruce!" Andy shouted, as he pulled the pin on his second and last grenade. Then it was on its way and he shouldered his rifle as he fell back into a prone position.

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  "It's the Reaper, has to be," Scott said as he, Bill, and Janet watched. Over the last several minutes, over a dozen figures had fallen. Most from what appea
red to be head shots.

  "Are the odds even enough now?" Janet was angry. She was watching people die that might be saved, and now it was obvious the Reaper was helping them. The chances of their group's success in assisting the manor had already improved, and as she continued to watch, she saw a majority of the marauder vehicles race away. While this left quite a few bad guys still firing into the manor, those inside that large home were firing back, and the best part was they had a clear shot from where they hid.

  "Yes, I don't know where those others went, but the odds are more than even now. Raise the windows and fire when I do, people," Scott called out. Within seconds, he'd raised the window and blinds before pushing out the screen. Beside Janet, others did the same, and in moments, seven rifles were resting on the windowsills of the four front-facing windows. Everyone had their favorite rifle with them, Janet's being the AR-15 Scott had given her, and she slowly breathed in and out as her finger tightened on the trigger.