could see muzzle flashes among the palm trees on the far side of the road. There was no sign of Elam, who had been forced off the road on the opposite side of us, far to the rear.
Crawling back to Ryan, who had put some duct tape over the stump of his finger, I motioned for him to shoot in the direction of the machine gun. He ignored his severed finger and opened up with his pistol. It was a .22, but some lead is better than none.
At that second, I heard a bust of fire, a roar of rifle fire punctuated by Brit’s shotgun sending out measured BOOMS! I also heard from behind me three flat CRACK CRACK CRACK sounds, an M-14 firing on single shot. The machine gun fell silent, but a blood curdling scream broke out from the other side of the road, accompanied by a whistle from the treeline ahead. The rifle fire stopped, and I peeked over the top of the road, to see several figures clad in ACU’s disappearing into the open fields to the east. Another CRACK and one fell down. The rest disappeared into a far tree line. The screaming continued, then died to a moaning sound. It was a woman. I hoped to God it wasn’t Brit.
Chapter 255
She was young, and pretty, in a thin, post war starved way. Hispanic, maybe eighteen years old. Blood poured out of her nose and mouth, thin streams that stained her ACU uniform and body armor. Just under the edge of her armor was a great big bloody hole, with some loops of intestine hanging out. It looked like she had taken a full load of buckshot from Brit’s twelve gauge.
The girl was gasping, crying and cursing in Spanish, trying to push her bowels back into the hole. We all stood around her, except for Ryan, who was busy trying to treat Scott. I let him keep going, though it was obvious from the hole just above his eyebrow, and the fact that half his head was missing, that my old friend was a gonner. His body still shook in reflexive spasms, but a wound like that to the head, without a dust off, was going to be fatal, every time. He made some inarticulate moans, but there was no life in them. The body just refused to accept what had happened to the brain. Thankfully he stopped twitching after a minute and lay still. Ryan cursed and threw the bandage down on the ground, even though he knew as well as I did from the start that it was hopeless.
Ten feet away Obi yelled, “Fuck, we gotta do something for her!” kneeling down on the bloody ground and pulling at his aide pouch. I shoved him aside, raised my rifle, and shot the girl in the head, just under the rim of her Kevlar. It was hard to keep steady aim because of my arm, and the round glanced off the rim, tumbling and shattering her face.
“What the FUCK!” yelled Obi; the backsplash sending a few drops of blood to splatter across his face. He stood up and came at me, only to stop with Shona’s rifle pointed two inches from his nose.
“Stand down!” she said. “There was nothing anyone could have done for her. It was a mercy.” Obi turned away and started cursing, and for a second I thought he was going to swing at me. Instead, he just cursed more and started kicking one of the other corpses.
“Obi, go pull security with Elam. Shona, figure who these jokers were. Ryan, see to Ziv. Brit, help me with Scott.” I was shaken. We had broken the ambush, but Scotty Orr lay dead. His eyes were open in a surprised look, one that I had seen on the dead before. No one ever really expects it.
“He hesitated when he saw it was a woman. I had gotten one, and Shona the other, and Scott stopped when he saw it was a girl. She fired once. I was too late.” There were tears rolling down Brit’s face, but her voice was a quiet monotone.
I thought back to the nights we had sat around on the porch, Scott playing his guitar, singing simple Spanish love songs or fast past Mexican dances. He was a good man, and had saved more than one of our lives with his medical skills. Reaching down, I closed his eyes for the last time, then stood up. As I did,
Crawling back to Ryan, who had put some duct tape over the stump of his finger, I motioned for him to shoot in the direction of the machine gun. He ignored his severed finger and opened up with his pistol. It was a .22, but some lead is better than none.
At that second, I heard a bust of fire, a roar of rifle fire punctuated by Brit’s shotgun sending out measured BOOMS! I also heard from behind me three flat CRACK CRACK CRACK sounds, an M-14 firing on single shot. The machine gun fell silent, but a blood curdling scream broke out from the other side of the road, accompanied by a whistle from the treeline ahead. The rifle fire stopped, and I peeked over the top of the road, to see several figures clad in ACU’s disappearing into the open fields to the east. Another CRACK and one fell down. The rest disappeared into a far tree line. The screaming continued, then died to a moaning sound. It was a woman. I hoped to God it wasn’t Brit.
Chapter 255
She was young, and pretty, in a thin, post war starved way. Hispanic, maybe eighteen years old. Blood poured out of her nose and mouth, thin streams that stained her ACU uniform and body armor. Just under the edge of her armor was a great big bloody hole, with some loops of intestine hanging out. It looked like she had taken a full load of buckshot from Brit’s twelve gauge.
The girl was gasping, crying and cursing in Spanish, trying to push her bowels back into the hole. We all stood around her, except for Ryan, who was busy trying to treat Scott. I let him keep going, though it was obvious from the hole just above his eyebrow, and the fact that half his head was missing, that my old friend was a gonner. His body still shook in reflexive spasms, but a wound like that to the head, without a dust off, was going to be fatal, every time. He made some inarticulate moans, but there was no life in them. The body just refused to accept what had happened to the brain. Thankfully he stopped twitching after a minute and lay still. Ryan cursed and threw the bandage down on the ground, even though he knew as well as I did from the start that it was hopeless.
Ten feet away Obi yelled, “Fuck, we gotta do something for her!” kneeling down on the bloody ground and pulling at his aide pouch. I shoved him aside, raised my rifle, and shot the girl in the head, just under the rim of her Kevlar. It was hard to keep steady aim because of my arm, and the round glanced off the rim, tumbling and shattering her face.
“What the FUCK!” yelled Obi; the backsplash sending a few drops of blood to splatter across his face. He stood up and came at me, only to stop with Shona’s rifle pointed two inches from his nose.
“Stand down!” she said. “There was nothing anyone could have done for her. It was a mercy.” Obi turned away and started cursing, and for a second I thought he was going to swing at me. Instead, he just cursed more and started kicking one of the other corpses.
“Obi, go pull security with Elam. Shona, figure who these jokers were. Ryan, see to Ziv. Brit, help me with Scott.” I was shaken. We had broken the ambush, but Scotty Orr lay dead. His eyes were open in a surprised look, one that I had seen on the dead before. No one ever really expects it.
“He hesitated when he saw it was a woman. I had gotten one, and Shona the other, and Scott stopped when he saw it was a girl. She fired once. I was too late.” There were tears rolling down Brit’s face, but her voice was a quiet monotone.
I thought back to the nights we had sat around on the porch, Scott playing his guitar, singing simple Spanish love songs or fast past Mexican dances. He was a good man, and had saved more than one of our lives with his medical skills. Reaching down, I closed his eyes for the last time, then stood up. As I did,
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