Echo Six: Black Ops 8 - ISIS Killing Fields (27 page)

"Shit. Keep driving, and try to bust a way through whatever they have waiting for us."

"They've blocked the other end," Rovere said, "Whoever set this ambush up knew the route we were taking."

"It couldn't have been Captain Salim," Guy said, " He didn’t know.”

"And it couldn't have been one of his soldiers, none of them knew either," Talley said. The answer came to him in a second, "Bino! Somehow, he got the message to ISIS, and they've sucker punched us, set up this ambush while we thought we'd left them behind."

"So what're we gonna do?" Guy said, "What do they want?"

"They want…" he was about to say, ‘they want to kill us.' Except the shooting had died down, and an eerie silence hung over the tiny valley.

"They want to take us alive," Rovere supplied the answer, "For some reason, they've decided to take prisoners."

"Prisoners of ISIS! Shit, I'd sooner jump off a cliff."

The Italian grinned at him. "I suspect that's exactly what they have in mind, once they've done their worst.”

“Then don’t give the chance. Get aboard the truck. We’re going in!”

“Without weapons!” Even Guy looked astonished.

“You have the truck. Run the fuckers down, improvise!”

The Brit pointed around him to show what they were up against; out in the open, with almost no cover, and heavily outnumbered by men dug in on top of the dunes, men with machine guns and RPGs. "You want us to commit suicide."

The sand saved them. Already, a horde of ISIS fighters was streaming down the dunes, men maddened by the urge to kill. To slaughter, to hack into the enemy, to destroy with bullets, with knives, to tear apart the infidels with their bare hands if possible. Talley leapt into the shotgun seat of the Humvee.

“Bielski, take her up the dune. Drew, soon as you see a target, hit it.”

“I wasn’t about to wave at the bastards, Boss.”

In spite of their desperate situation, he chuckled. “Sorry, Drew. Listen, they left our guys in the Oshkosh without their guns. If we get the chance to grab some of the enemy’s weapons, make sure to take it.”

“Copy that.”

The ambush was already unraveling almost as it started. The sand blew across the valley, not thick enough to obscure the entire area, but enough to make it difficult for the well-place machine gunners and missile crews on the tops of the dunes to have a hard target. He glanced behind; the Oshkosh was charging along in their rear, its huge sand tires and all-wheel drive making it look easy on the slope, but they lacked weapons. He could see Buchmann driving, a good combination, the tank-like German with the go-anywhere, tank-like Oshkosh truck. Then they were amongst the first of the enemy.

“Bielski, stop. We’ll fight them here. Drew, stay inside and look after Geena. Tadeus, follow me out the passenger side. We’ll fight as a pair.”

They fought back-to-back, beating back the rabid horde of Islamists. They were in the center of about ten fighters, and a split second later, two men leapt at them, one firing from the hip with his AK-47. The bullets went wide, and it wasn’t difficult to understand the reason. He was spaced out on something, some drug, maybe amphetamine, which he’d taken to give him speed and power. It gave him those qualities, but it meant in his drug-fueled state he was a lousy shot.

Talley pulled the trigger of his M4, and the man went down. Bielski had his rifle in one hand and his pistol, a Sig Sauer, in the other. He pulled the trigger of both weapons and sent a stream of bullets that smacked into the other man in front them, and cut down two others coming in from the flank. Talley turned to cover the opposite flank, and a second later, a screaming group of fighters attacked.

He emptied a clip into the charging mass at point blank range, and then they were on him. He’d taken down the first two men, and three more were closing on him, yet strangely, they weren’t shooting. They'd reversed their rifles to use them as clubs.

Out of ammo? Impossible, the fight just started. So why are they doing this?

One man carried a sword, held low. Ready to slash at his legs to hamstring him. The other two bore down on him, gun butts swinging toward his head. He feinted toward the two men with rifles, twisting at the last moment to attack the swordsman, and tripped. The sword came up, a voice bellowed something in Arabic, and the man hesitated. Talley rolled to one side, and his hand came into contact with the AK-47 dropped by the first man he’d shot. He scooped it up, pointed the barrel in the general direction of his two opponents, and squeezed the trigger. Nothing. He cursed. Somehow the selector was still on safe. He felt for the lever, pushed it to full auto, and squeezed the trigger again. This time, the banana-shaped magazine emptied in seconds, and the long burst tore into the two men, slamming their bloody bodies to the ground.

Three men rushed at him. A quick glance at Bielski showed three more ISIS fighters besieged him. One of them dropped when the Pole squeezed off a round that took him in the guts. Then his rifle clicked on empty, and the remaining two closed in eagerly for the kill. Talley ducked the blow from the first man, but the second threw his rifle up to his shoulder. The sand came in harder, and he squinted as his eyes filled with the gritty dust. It was only a few seconds respite, but it was enough for Buchmann to roar in, driving the Oshkosh like a maniac. The fighter went down under the huge front tires. Buchmann jammed on the brakes, skidding around to catch the second fighter with a vicious sideswipe.

The doors flung open, and Guy led the way, leaping to the sand. Rovere followed him, and men scrabbled in the gusting sand, picking up dropped weapons. DiMosta flung himself down behind the truck and was already seeking targets. Each time the curtain of sand cleared, his borrowed AK-47 spoke, and a scream came back from the enemy ranks. But there were still more of them, too many, and they had automatic weapons. Whoever was in command had decided to ignore the fate of his own men. The vicious chatter of a light machine gun sounded through the storm. They were firing blind, but even so, sheets of lead swept the low hill and forced the Echo Six operators to dive for cover.

A second machine gun started firing and squeezed them between two streams of fire. Guy crawled over to him. He carried an AKM assault rifle.

"It’s time to move, Boss. We can't stay here. Sooner or later they're gonna find targets."

"What about the Humvee, where is it now?" The sand had blanketed the area, and it was impossible to see how exposed the vehicle was with Geena inside.

His number two pointed in the general direction of the valley. "Still down there, but Drew drove it into a shallow depression he found in the sand. They're as safe as they can be, at least until this sandstorm blows out. It could last all day, or it could end in a few minutes. When that happens, we'll be sitting ducks."

They couldn't run. ISIS had blocked both ends of the shallow valley. "We'll use the Oshkosh in the lead, go straight up the dunes, and get amongst them. If we..."

It was too late. They were coming again, a horde of black-robed fighters charging down from the dune on the opposite side. ISIS had trapped them, and they'd keep up the pressure until they were all dead.

He went to order a last-ditch defense and grabbed Guy by the sleeve to get his attention. He never got the command out. Buchmann loomed next to him. "I will deal with the men at the top of this dune. You can have the rest."

"Heinrich, I..."

It was too late. He'd gone. Through the sand, Talley saw him vault into the cab of the Oshkosh, which still had its engine running. Somehow, the big German had acquired two assault rifles, and he had two pistols tucked into his belt. About to do what his forebears has done so well over the centuries. He was going to war. A storm of bullets from below reminded Talley of the new threat that had emerged from behind. As the wind tore a hole in the curtain of sand, he saw the black clad fighters racing up the dune toward them. Then the wind changed, and the hole disappeared.

"Guy, move out to the Western flank, and let them come. As soon as they reach this spot, we can rake them with gunfire. With any luck, we'll kill enough of them to make the rest retreat."

"Copy that." He raced to pass the message on. Talley led them over to the west, and they dropped back to the ground. The enemy was still shooting but firing at shadows. His men flung themselves to the sand next to Talley, and they waited. Five seconds later, they came, screaming, 'Allahu Akbar,' and blazing away at the sky, the sand, and the rocks. They missed the NATO operators and looked at each other in confusion. A perfect target, less than twenty meters from the muzzles of their rifles.

He didn't hesitate. "Open fire! Kill the bastards."

Their bullets ripped into the enemy, and half went down in the first furious burst of firing. The rest looked stunned, looking around to find the reason for the sudden reversal. He didn't intend to give them time to work it out and catapulted to his feet. "Charge, hit them now, before they recover."

They rose as one and launched themselves at the enemy, who died in large numbers. They looked every which way for an escape, but there was none. Bullets tore into them, most from the weapons taken from their casualties. Two men threw up their hands, but this was no battle where mercy could be given. It was kill or be killed.

The last man went down, and he looked at his men. "Anyone hurt, any casualties?"

They shook their heads. They'd been lucky, very lucky. The question that faced him now was whether to go up and finish the hostiles at the top, assuming Buchmann had left some for them, or to go down and make sure Geena and Drew were okay in the Humvee. He decided they had to do both.

"Roy, come with me. We'll check out the Humvee. Guy, take the others, and link up with Buchmann. Move, people. We've got them on the run. Keep piling on the pressure and we may get out of this trap."

Guy raced away up the hill with his small team. Talley started running down the hill toward where he assumed the Humvee would be waiting. He felt relief when he saw it stationary on the sand, undamaged. She was still safe. Now it was up to him to get out of this hell, and the priority was the girl, while she still lived. He ran faster, and as he hit the floor of the valley, he was sprinting. Roy called from behind him, "Boss, hold it. They're..."

He didn’t get any further. A dozen rifles pointed at his belly. The men had been crouched down behind the Humvee out of sight, and now they stood. His stomach lurched when he saw the man leading them. Bino.

"Hiding behind the Humvee..." Roy finished, "Shit!"

"Put down the gun, Commander. You, too, Sergeant."

Both men placed their rifles on the ground. The Lieutenant snapped out an order, and two of his men raced across to them, pinioned their arms, and subjected them to a quick search. They said something in Arabic, and he replied, evidently satisfied.

"Now you infidel dogs will all die, and you will be the last, Commander Talley. Al-Khalil has something special arranged for you. You should have surrendered when you had the chance, and perhaps the rest of your men would have lived."

Talley ignored the threat and wondered about the fate of the two occupants of the Humvee. "Where are they, Bino? The two people in the vehicle."

He laughed. "You mean the Syrian whore and the other American? We are holding them with Captain Salim, and those men who refused to leave him and follow the Caliph. You'll join them again soon, Commander Talley. In hell."

They're alive, which means there's hope. It's interesting that Salim and some of his men refused to mutiny. Maybe we haven't lost it all. Where the hell are Guy and the others? They’re not shooting, are they all dead?

He had to play for time, the single card left for him. “Why did you do it, Bino? The ISIS terrorists are killing your own men. Why throw in with them?"

The Iraqi laughed again, a loud, grating noise. "You don't get it, do you? I'm a true Muslim, a Sunni, like these men who are loyal to me and follow the word of the Prophet. Salim and the other dogs are Shiites, and for their apostasy, they deserve death."

"You're ISIS? You want to see Iraq and Syria ruled by a religious maniac? A man who throws prisoners off the roofs of tall buildings, whose followers rape and execute women."

Bino looked up at a renewed burst of firing. For the first time, he looked uncertain.

Guy is still up there, still fighting.

He stared into the Lieutenant's eyes. "My men will kill those people up there, Bino, and then they'll come looking for you. They'll kill you, and they'll kill your men."

The Lieutenant looked even more uncertain. In that moment, Talley worked it all out. He'd been a good officer, and yet something got to him. He recalled his strange reaction when al-Khalil had offered to let them go.

"Who is it?"

His eyes flicked nervously around, as if to see who was in earshot. "I don't understand."

"You understand fine. Someone threatened you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit. Who did they threaten? Your family?"

He glanced nervously at his soldiers, and in particular at the surly Sergeant, who watched him closely, his face suspicious. A score of expressions crossed his face as he wrestled with his conscience. Then the shame of his duplicity got the better of him. He seemed to sag.

"My parents live in Raqqa."

He didn't need to say more. Raqqa, Headquarters of ISIS, Terrorist Central. The story was written all over his face. His parents were trapped inside, and they'd put the thumbscrews on him through them. Who was the conduit, that was the big question? Before he could speak, the hard-faced Sergeant strode up to Bino.

"I want to kill him first." He pointed at Reynolds.

"Sergeant, no! I need to talk to these men. It's important."

The sandstorm chose that exact moment to come to an abrupt end. Sunlight flashed on the Sergeant's eyes, and they were the eyes of a psychopath. A psychopath hunting for his next kill. He raised his rifle, then jerked his gaze away as more gunfire came from the top of the dune. Guy and the other men were still fighting, which meant they could still win.

He looked around as a group of men came toward them. Five in jet-black clothing carried Kalashnikovs. The sixth, an older man in a scruffy, soiled robe, sidled up to Talley and examined him closely.

"You are Talley."

He squared up to him and met his gaze. "Who wants to know?"

"I am Hasan Jafaar, and this is the man who will kill you."

He indicated the man next to him. He was lean, hard looking, with the dark, hawk-like face of a predator and a long, Semitic nose. He could have been anyone, Arab, Persian, Afghan, or even an Israeli. He was none of those things. He was ISIS. He approached the Echo Six commander and stared into his face from inches away. At the same moment, two men held his arms, so he couldn't swing the punch he yearned to deliver.