The Ambush

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Murdock knew that he was hurt, hurt bad. As they'd advanced down the alleyway, a flurry of gunshots had rung out. He'd felt a blow, low on his torso, just where his armor had ridden up as he ran forward at a crouch. It reminded him of the time his brother had whacked him with a 2 x 4.

He looked out at the alley, three members of his team were sprawled out there. One of them, he thought it was Jonesy, had been moving but a single shot had rung out and now he wasn't moving any more.

Holding his weapon with his left hand, he reached down, the pain was getting worse. He felt his lower abdomen, it was wet. He pulled his hand away, in the dim light from a nearby streetlamp, he could see blood, a lot of it.

"WILSON!"

The effort of shouting made him dizzy.

"Damn, I'm losing a lot of blood," he muttered to himself.

"JEFFERSON! ANYBODY?"

"Sarge, it's Jefferson, I'm with Wilson. I think he's dead."

The low voice came from across the alley. If Murdock squinted real hard, he thought he could make out the shape of a man in the shadow of the building across from him.

"Sarge, they winged me, it hurts a little but I think I'm okay. Are you okay?"

Murdock grimaced, Jefferson sounded worried. He managed to gasp out ...

"Gimme a minute, I need to patch myself up."

As Murdock fumbled for his first aid kit, he needed to stop the bleeding, probably needed a unit or two of whole blood by now too, he heard footsteps, a flurry of gunshots followed.

"Sarge, I'm here."

Murdock shook his head, "Are you f**king nuts, Jefferson?"

"Nah Sarge, I'm scared shitless. Jesus, we need to patch you up, real quick." Jefferson had just noticed the puddle underneath his sergeant, it wasn't water.

"Come on, Jack, we need to boogie."

Jack Morgan felt the hand on his shoulder, his eye was still glued to his scope, he'd just missed the big man who had scrambled from one side of the alley to the other. He'd been watching the other side, he knew that he'd wounded another guy who'd managed to get to cover. One of the dead men in the alley he'd had to shoot a second time, bastard was still moving.

"Did you talk to those idiots on the M-60?" he asked Ephraim Johansen, the guy he was with.

"Yeah, told 'em not to waste so much f**king ammo next time. Assholes sprayed the entire alley, more bullets in the walls and pavement than in the guys they were shooting at. Now come on, you know those guys down there have backup coming in, right?"

"Right, let's get outta here."

"What happened?" The captain was pretty blunt, the look on his face said all that Jefferson needed to know. The man was furious and embarrassed at the same time.

"It was a set-up, call came in, we geared up and responded. We parked the van down at the end of the alley. Suspects were supposed to be an alley over, to the south in an old warehouse. These bastards were expecting us. It was an ambush, Cap'n."

"Yeah, no shit."

Captain Harry DuPont turned and watched as the ambulance pulled out. He also noticed that they drove off with no lights, no siren, which meant that Murdock was probably dead.

"Jefferson, you go with Wolters, he'll send someone to collect the van. Right now I need you back at the office, get your statement while it's still fresh in your mind. Go."

"Is Murdock gonna be okay?" Jefferson was on the edge of going into shock, DuPont knew the signs.

"Probably not, he lost a lot of blood."

"Damn."

"Yeah, Jefferson, damn. Now get out of here."

DuPont watched as Wolters led Jefferson away. What a shitty night this had turned out to be.