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     "Did he run off?"  asked Dr. Stone.

     "No, he's in here.  I've been watching the door since this started.  Start opening lockers! I bet he's hiding."

     They quickly found the little two-year-old boy inside a locker with his hands over his ears. Elizabeth scooped him up and took a few quick steps away from the child's dead parents.  She didn't know what to do with him so she started kissing his cheeks over and over.  The little boy giggled.  Elizabeth looked over to see Dr. Stone tending to Max.

     "Max, tell me what's wrong," she demanded.

     "It's my leg, doc.  I can't move it."

     "But you can feel it?"

      "That I don't have a problem with.  I feel so much pain I'm ready to put a bullet in my head."

     "Stop talking like that!" implored Elizabeth.

     "I'm sorry, I'm not going to, but it hurts worse than it ever has.

Dr. Stone put her hands on Max's neck to check his pulse.  "Tell me about the surgeries you’ve had."

     "I had a hip replacement."

     "Any pins in your leg?"

     "Yes."

     "How many?"

     "One very long rod with about a dozen pins drilled into my femur."

     "How many fractures did you suffer?"

     "My femur had two clean breaks."

     "Your hip is probably dislocated."

     "Well, it was worth it.  We got Collins in here and saved his life.  How is he?"

     Dr. Stone had practiced medicine for twenty-eight years. She was no stranger to delivering bad news and knew that sugar coating or dancing around it only made it worse.

     "He didn't make it."

     "Son of a bitch.  What happened?  I come to, only to find Trudy on the floor next to me and Elizabeth shooting the bastard that killed her."

     Elizabeth explained, "Asshole climbed up onto the rubble and found a hole, shot down into the locker room."

     "How many?"  Max was afraid to ask.

     "Me, the doc, and this little guy are the only ones left." Elizabeth kissed the little boy, eager to hear that innocent giggle again.

     Max closed his eyes, and the thought of losing two more of his officers overwhelmed him.  He hadn't pulled the trigger, but he felt responsible for their deaths all the same.  He thought of the civilians lying dead around him, civilians whom he was responsible for protecting.  Max thought back to the hurricanes that had wrecked his life before this one.  The other ones were walks in the park compared to this one.  Max wondered if he would be able to walk again. 

     "OK, we need to give you something for the pain." Dr. Stone produced a pill bottle."

     "Tramadol?"

     "Yes, it should help."

     "I hope so. Wish you had something stronger."

     "It’ll have to do. It’s better than Tylenol."

     "No doubt about that.  Elizabeth, take one of the vehicles and go get Charlie and his family."

     Elizabeth had already taken the keys to the SUV from Jack. "What about Rudy?"

     "He's dead."

     Neither woman questioned the lie Max had told Trudy.  They understood why he had done it.  "Anything else, boss?"

     "Just double check the armory for anything they might have left behind.  And one more thing - I don't want you to put yourself in any danger, but if you happen to see my desk in the rubble, check the top drawer for my Vicodin. I need the good stuff if you expect me to leave this locker room."

     Elizabeth left the little boy with Dr. Stone and headed off to the police station.  Dr. Stone was a grandmother of three and had no trouble with the little one.  Max laid on the floor trying his best to remain perfectly still.  Dr. Stone very delicately ran her hands up and down his leg trying to feel anything abnormal.

     "Your hip is definitely dislocated.  The only good news is your femoral artery hasn't been compromised."

     "Can you pop it back in?"

     "Yes, I can do it with Elizabeth's help.  I'd rather you were heavily sedated.  We don't really have a choice.  If we try to move you with your hip out of the socket, you could damage your leg and lose feeling in your foot.  There's a good chance that you've done that already but we have to proceed on the assumption that you didn't.  I sincerely hope Elizabeth finds your Vicodin."

     "Will popping it back in be that painful?"

     "Excruciating.  If she finds the Vicodin, I'm planning on giving you so much that it would cause a normal person to overdose."

     Ten minutes later Elizabeth came back into the locker room. "Charlie and his family aren't at the station anymore.  I have no idea what happened to them."   She dug in her pocket and tossed Max a pill bottle.  "Your desk was across the street from the station."

     "Well, it's about time something went our way," said Max.

     "How many do you normally take?" asked Dr. Stone.

     "Depends.  Usually two every three hours."

     "Double it.  After that we'll wait an hour and give you two more."

     "Sounds like a party!" Max took four pills.

     "What's going on?" Elizabeth looked at Dr. Stone.

     "Doctor's orders." Max winked at Elizabeth.

     "His hip is dislocated.  You and I are going to pop it back in.  The only way we can do hope to do that is with him heavily sedated."

     "Oh, fun.  I can't wait!"  Elizabeth said with much sarcasm.

     An hour after Max took the first four pills, they gave him two more and waited about thirty minutes.  He was high as a kite and in a giddy mood.  When the second dose kicked in, he slipped into a peaceful sleep.  Dr. Stone checked his pulse and monitored his breathing for a minute.

     "Let's get started.  I need you to keep him perfectly still.  Lay down across his chest and hold his arms.  I'll do the rest.  If he wakes up, do your best to hold him still."

     Dr. Stone lifted Max's leg straight up in the air and bent his knee ninety degrees.  She put the inside of his knee on her shoulder and hugged his thigh.  In a very rapid motion, she threw her body forward and then leaned to the side.  She heard a click and felt the ball of his artificial hip slide back into place.  Max groaned and stirred, but didn’t wake up.

     "Did you do it?  Is it over?"  Elizabeth was still holding Max down.

     "Yes, it's done."

     "What do we do now?"

     "Wait for him to sleep off the Vicodin.  We should get some rest while he's out.  Elizabeth, what happens when he wakes up?"

     "We get the hell out of Texas and don't look back."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Captain Jackson Butler was standing three hundred yards behind Beck Estates.  Next to him stood his top NCO, First Sergeant Matt Bankhead.  Beck Estates was on full lockdown mode, and Captain Butler was determined to take it by whatever means necessary.  Howard's Artificial Intelligence, Hal, had deployed some very effective counter-measures to keep his soldiers at bay.  Butler had sent the first wave of soldiers to the two entrances on the backside of the mansion.  They were promptly attacked by sentries on the roof.  Howard had programmed the sentries to fire rubber bullets - not at the soldiers' torsos, but their heads.  The move proved effective as the overwhelming majority of his soldiers fell to the ground, either unconscious or missing an eye.  The soldiers that did make it to the outer wall of the mansion were powerless to enter the residence.  All of the doors and windows had the same force fields covering them that Jackson had encountered in the grand library of the world's richest man.  He ordered them to retreat, and Howard was kind enough to let them collect their fallen comrades and leave without being shot at.  Butler figured Howard let them survive to illustrate to him that he only wanted them to leave his house alone and just go away.  Jackson Butler had no intention of leaving.

Captain Butler was puzzled by the fact that Howard did not use lethal force to defend his estate.  His best guess was that Howard never thought he would need to kill anyone on his property.  His defenses were more than adequate to keep intruders at bay, but the fact that Howard wasn’t willing to use deadly force would end up being the one weakness Butler could use to his advantage.  Butler quickly learned the maximum effective range of the sentries the hard way.  Rubber bullets zinged past him as he and his men quickly ran out into the field behind the mansion.  Butler estimated that the sentries had a maximum effective range of between one hundred fifty and two hundred yards.  Just to be on the safe side, he set up shop at the three hundred yard mark.  He ordered one of his snipers to take out the sentries, but the effort proved ineffective.  The sentries had the same force fields protecting them.

"Top, what are you thinking?  I'm open to suggestions."

"Well, sir, it’s obvious that we can't storm the distance to the back door.  We could use riot shields to cover ourselves, but when we make it to the wall, we have no way in."

"Munitions?"

"Worth a shot."

"Get a team of grenadiers up here."

"Roger that, sir."  First Sergeant Bankhead quickly followed orders and assembled a team of four men with M32 grenade launchers.  Each weapon could fire six forty-millimeter grenade rounds.

"Awaiting your orders, sir," said the team leader.

Captain Butler had to decide on a target.  The door and windows would most likely deflect anything they had.  "Let's see what we’re dealing with here," Captain Butler said, tapping the helmet of the soldier in front of him. “Fire one round at left side door."

The soldier took aim and fired one round at the door leading into Howard's kitchen.  Nothing happened.  First Sergeant Bankhead was watching the door with binoculars.

"Top?"

"Sir, the round hit the force field and ricocheted."

"Just as I thought.  I want all four of you men to fire at the wall just to the left of that same door.  On my mark," the four men quickly took aim, "Fire!"

Nothing happened.

"Top?"

"Sir, I didn't see anything hit the wall."

"Nothing?"

"Yes, sir."

"Men, open your breaches for inspection."  The four men quickly followed orders.  Captain Butler nodded to his top NCO, who took each weapon and conducted an inspection.  He dropped the spent shells and examined the remaining rounds.

"Sir, the weapons are all working perfectly with live ammunition."

"Curious."  Captain Butler paced back and forth and came up with a theory.  "Men, prepare to fire at the same target on my mark.  Top, don't look at the target, I want you to watch the sentries on the roof for any activity."

"Roger that, sir."

"Ready, fire!"

The same thing happened as before; each man fired a round at the wall just to the left of the door.  Again, none of the rounds hit the target.  Captain Butler looked to First Sergeant Bankhead for a report.

"Captain, those damn sentries up there are doing something, I can't tell what.  They swiveled around and moved rapidly from side the side."

"Did they fire anything?"

"No, sir, not that I could tell.  They definitely did something to stop the rounds."

"Men, reload your weapons."  The four soldiers quickly took rounds from their vests and loaded their weapons to capacity.  "On my mark, I want you to fire all of your rounds at random targets along the wall; do not hit the same target twice.  Ready, fire!"

The four soldiers unloaded their weapons at the back wall of Beck Estates.  A total of twenty-four rounds were fired, not one of them hit the wall.

"This mother fucker is pissing me off now," Captain Butler said with much disdain. “You men are dismissed."

"Time to call in the big guns, sir."

"Top, you are absolutely correct.  Command has been kind enough to dispatch a fighter jet for us to do with as we please.  We have to be careful though; the big man himself wants the estate intact with as little damage as possible."

"You mean General Green?"

"No, First Sergeant, I'm referring to our Commander-in-Chief."

"I'll be damned, sir.  I had no idea."

Captain Butler smiled and placed his hand on the shoulder of his top NCO. "Top, you and I do this thing right, good things are in store for us, I assure you."

"Outstanding, sir. I'm proud to be in this with you."

"Matt, the feeling is the same.  Now, let's get that crazy old coot out of his house.  Load everybody up and fall back a half mile to the north.  I'll wait here for you. When the last man is out, drive my truck around and pick me up."

"I wish I could see the look on the man's face when he thinks we’re giving up and leaving."

"I couldn't agree more, Top."

Captain Butler stood perfectly still and surveyed his target.  If military history had taught him one thing, it was that every stronghold eventually fell to invading forces.  It was only a matter of time, determination, and resourcefulness.  Every castle, every fort, every bunker was eventually breached.  If it took hours, days, or even years, if one man wanted to take something from another man, it could be done.  Butler could hear his truck coming around to pick him up.  First Sergeant Bankhead pulled up right next to the captain so all he had to do was open the door and sit down.

"I'll see you soon, Howard."  Captain Jackson Butler waved towards the mansion, climbed aboard his truck and left.

**********

Howard Beck was sitting at the control panel in his secure sub-basement having the time of his life.  He was playing a real-life video game with actual, real-life soldiers with guns.  Howard couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun.  Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that he would actually be able to test the defenses of his estate.  He gave Hal instructions in the game of chess they were playing with Captain Butler.  When Butler would send in a few pawns, Howard defeated them with ease.  He laughed and cheered when he sent the captain himself running as fast as he could across the north lawn to escape the rubber bullets ricocheting around him.  Howard had purposely fired a round straight at the captain's ass.  Butler fell to the ground and quickly got up, limping away with both hands on his bottom like a little boy who’d just been spanked. 

"Hal, let's hope the good captain gets the message.  In case he doesn't, fire a head shot at anyone approaching the back wall."

"Sir, I must inform you that such a move could result in serious injury, possibly death."

"I'm aware of that, Old Man, thank you."

"I understand, sir."

Howard watched as a wave of a dozen soldiers took off at a full sprint toward the back door of his home. 

"Take your time, Old Man.  I want a few of them to make it to the back door."

"Yes, sir."

Howard watched the monitor as the soldiers slowly dropped to the ground.  Every one of them remained motionless.   "Life signs?"

"They are all alive, sir.  Two of them suffered severe trauma to an eye."

"To hell with 'em, they'll live.  Maybe Butler will get the message and leave."

Howard looked at the monitor and saw that three soldiers had made it to the back door, out of the field of vision of the sentries.  "Good job, grunts!  Oh my!  Whatever are you going to do now?  Maybe if you knock on the door and mind your manners I’ll just open up and let you in?  Oh no!  Don't do that!  Might sting a little!"

The three soldiers looked at each other in confusion.  They studied the back door leading into the kitchen.  One of them tossed a rock at the force field.  The field shimmered and deflected the rock with ease.  They looked at each other, silently arguing over which one of them was going to touch the force field.

"Come on now!  One of you has to do it!  Draw straws or something, hurry up!"

The argument ceased and the unlucky loser walked over to the force field.  He raised his rifle and tapped the barrel to the field only to be met with a severe shock.  He dropped his rifle to the ground and danced wildly around, flapping his hands in pain.

"Told you not to do that!"  Howard laughed and sat back in his chair, quite proud of himself.  "It's okay little boys, run away now.  Make sure to get your friends on your way out.  "Hal, if you would be kind enough to allow them to leave and let them collect their unlucky friends from the battlefield."

"Of course, sir."

"Well, Captain, what do you have in store for me this time?"  Howard studied the monitor and could see Captain Butler and First Sergeant Bankhead deep in discussion.  Bankhead quickly ran over to a group of soldiers and returned with four men carrying very large guns.  "Hal, what are those guns?  What do they do?"

"Sir, they are M-32 grenade launchers capable of firing six forty millimeter grenade rounds in revolver fashion."

"Very nice, Captain Butler!  I'm impressed!  Hal, you ready to play baseball?"

"I am, sir. It is after all, my favorite sport."

"Let's have some fun with them. He's probably going to fire a round or two at the force fields.  Let him hit the field so he thinks he has a shot at hitting the wall.  Everything else, you're free to take a turn at bat."

"Yes, sir."

Howard watched with growing excitement as Captain Butler attempted to fire explosive rounds at his home.  The sentries on the roof caught every round mid-air and dropped them to the ground.  The sonic repulsors worked exactly as Howard had designed them.

"What now, Butler?  What else have you got?  Ready for round three?  Let's see what you got!" Howard studied the monitor and watched the four baffled grenadiers shuffle away.  The two soldiers were clearly discussing their next move.  Suddenly, the First Sergeant ran away and the soldiers quickly loaded up their vehicles.  Captain Butler stood idle in the middle of the field. Howard hoped the captain was planning his next move. As Howard waited in anticipation, a truck pulled up next to Butler. His adversary waved goodbye and left.

"Oh come on!  I was having so much fun!  You can't leave now!  This was just getting interesting!  Jackson, my boy, you disappoint me!  I can't believe you would give up that easily!"

"Sir, all of the forces have retreated.  They have taken up position a half mile away."

"Really?  They aren't leaving?  What are you up to, Jackson?"

"Sir, my drones have detected an incoming aircraft.  It's an M-16 fighter jet."

"What?  He isn't going to…"

"The jet has locked onto us, sir."

"Can you stop it?"

"No, sir, my system will not be able to stop a large projectile traveling at high velocity."

Howard watched in horror as a missile was fired from five miles away.  He searched the sky for a telltale sign - a flash, a trail of smoke, but saw nothing.  In his secure panic room, he felt the foundation of his home rumble like an earthquake had hit.

"He can't do this!  This has gone too far!  This is outrageous!"  Howard's face reddened as he stood up and threw his chair into the monitor. “Noooooo!  They can't do this!  They can't!  THIS IS MY HOUSE!"

"Sir, my security robots will be able to keep enemy forces at bay for a short time.  Their defeat is inevitable, however. The robots are not equipped to deliver lethal force.  We need to make preparations to leave the estate."

Howard was furious - furious at himself for not designing a security system that could defend his home against armed invaders.  The thought of dead bodies littering his estate was something he could not comprehend.  Howard was not superstitious enough to believe in ghosts, but he couldn’t be in a room that had once played host to bloody corpses.  Howard picked up his chair and set it upright. He was not giving up.

"It's not time to leave just yet, Old Man.  We can do this."