Ficly

Roof

The Blackhawk sped away and we three were alone on the roof. An air conditioning unit hummed on the roof next to an access hatch that lead into the interior of the building.

“I’ll go first, then Clarke, then you,” Rodgers said pointing at me last. “If we go through any doors, I sweep left, Clarke right. You up and down. Got it?”

“Got it,” I replied.

“And watch where you point the muzzle. I don’t want to get shot from behind. And keep an eye on our rear. I don’t want someone coming up behind us.”

“Gotcha” I said.

“Don’t hesitate in there. If you see anyone, kill them. Don’t capture, don’t wound. Kill them,” Rodgers said.

“Are you done talking, now,” I asked.

“Sorry,” Rodgers said. “Let’s go.”

We lifted the hatch and peered in. A ladder lead down an interior wall. On either side were shelves of tires. Rodgers swung his legs in and slid down the ladder with a skill that surprised me. Less than a second later Clarke had followed. I slung my rifle across my back to free my hands and brought up the rear.

View this story's 2 comments.