Swords of Exodus [Dead Six 02] (40 page)

“
Okay. Cover us.
”

The three of us spread out, scanning for threats. I was missing my night vision, but every light in the compound was on now. I took the chance to switch out my pathetic subsonic magazine for something better. There was a veritable storm of gunfire coming from the helicopters’ landing spot, and it sounded like a lot more fire than what should have been coming from the expected number of enemy troops. In fact, it sounded like this compound was hell of a lot better manned than we thought.

I flipped my radio to another setting. “Reaper, where are my eyes?”

“
Little Bird will be on station in two minutes,
” he responded hastily. Our little UAV had to stay circling in the canyon until the radar had gone down, only it wasn’t nearly as fast as the choppers. “
I’ll be feeding to you and Ibrahim
.”

“Okay, switching to the command channel.” There were so many separate strike teams operating at one time that Exodus was using a bunch of encrypted frequencies to keep from crowding each other. “Come in Ibrahim. This is Lorenzo.”

The radio picked up to a live line, but there was a pause as somebody on the other end hammered something with what sounded like short barreled .308. “
This is Sword One Actual. Status?
”

“My team’s okay. We’re on the rear wall.”

“
You did well to destroy not only one, but two of those AA guns, my friend.
”

“Yeah, how about next time we know that there are two first?”

Ibrahim laughed heartily. Even in the middle of a gun battle, the man was chipper. Friggin’ Exodus. “
Yes. Your friend, Mr. Reaper, was able to relay to us your message. As soon as he saw the radar go offline, he gave us the signal.
”

“How’s it going over there?”

“
If you would like to come and lend some assistance, it would be much appreciated. There seems to be no end to how many men Jihan has. Once we secure the LZ, we can destroy the Pale Man once and for all.
” There was more gunfire. “
I must be going now.
”

The plan was for Exodus to control that one portion of the compound long enough to take control of the silo. With Jihan dead, it was believed that his troops would collapse. None of us wanted to have to clear every one of these bunkers. Personally I just wanted to get into that prison, find Bob, and get the hell out of here.

Roland and Phillips came sprinting in behind me. Neither one appeared to have any bullet holes in them. “Head for the LZ!” I ordered.

Chapter 20: False Gods

VALENTINE

Crossroads City

March 25th

“You should put your earplugs in,” I told Paolo. The Ural truck rattled and crashed down a potholed road at a high rate of speed, bucking and jarring all the while. Everything I saw was illuminated in green through my night vision goggles.

“Why?” he asked. To my eyes he appeared slightly blurry; the focus on my NVGs was set for a longer distance.

I pointed to the roof of the truck’s cab. “When that big-assed gun opens up, it’s going to be really loud.” The Ural 6x6 truck we were riding in had a KPV 14.5mm heavy machine gun mounted in the back, behind an armored gun shield. When the gun was pointed forward, its muzzle was right over the cab. “Seriously,” I continued, “It’ll be louder than hell and if it gets ugly up there I’m going to be firing right out the window. Either put your ears in now or have tinnitus for the rest of your life.”

Paolo shakily nodded his head and, while driving with one hand, put rubber earplugs in one at a time. I had on electronic earphones that protected my hearing and kept my ears warm.

Katsumoto’s calm voice broadcast over our radios. “
This is Sword Three Actual. We are about to engage the enemy. Prep for combat.
” On cue, the BTRs in front of us sped up. Where we’d been traveling in a column, the rear vehicle pulled up alongside the lead. Both APCs had an armored turret with a 14.5mm KPVT machine gun and a coaxial 7.62mm PTK machine gun. The two surplus Soviet vehicles formed a wall of armor and firepower for the rest of the convoy.

Young Paolo steeled himself and gripped the steering wheel so hard it was a wonder he could still turn it. My own heart sped up as the truck accelerated. Adrenaline hit my system in a pleasant rush. My concerns and distractions faded away as
the Calm
washed over me. My muscles relaxed and I rolled down the window. A rush of cold air blasted my face as I stuck the muzzle out of my AKM out the window. I clicked the safety lever to the full auto position, and checked to make sure that the 75-round drum magazine was locked in.
This is it.

We caught them completely off guard. All that Jihan’s soldiers, sitting idly at the checkpoint, could have seen was several streams of green tracers lancing out at them from the darkness before they died. The checkpoint was just a couple of shacks, a feeble wooden roadblock, and a pair of parked 4x4s. Heavy machine-gun and small-arms fire tore through the shacks and the trucks alike. The noise was terrible. The BTRs blasted through the barricade without hesitation, breaking it off and crushing it beneath their wheels.

We slowed down to make the ninety-degree right turn up the hill to the dam.
Movement in the shack!
The AK roared as I squeezed the trigger, hosing the wooden building with a long burst. Paolo winced at the noise. He looked like he was going to piss himself when the KPV machine gun above us opened up on a vehicle coming down the road to our left. The concussion from each shot was like having a metal bucket on your head while someone banged on it with a hammer.

Just like that, we were around the corner and speeding up the hill. It had taken us less than a minute to shoot our way through the checkpoint, leaving nothing but dead bodies and burning trucks in our wake. We had surprised them so completely that they had only gotten a couple of ineffectual potshots off at us.

The convoy sped up after rounding the corner, beginning the long charge up the hill. The dam loomed over us at the top, brightly illuminated through my NVGs. I couldn’t hear anything over the roar of the truck’s diesel engine but I had little doubt that alarms were sounding up there. A mix of red and green tracers zipped down the hill at us. There was no cover. The road was straight, two lanes wide, flanked on either side by six-foot snow banks. There was nowhere to go but up.

The two BTRs maintained their armored wall up front, sending bursts of automatic weapons fire forward as we charged. The huge machine gun behind me roared, each burst sounding like a maniac was pounding on the roof with a sledgehammer. I had no targets. There was nothing I could do but sit and wait. The road to the dam was only a kilometer long, but a klick is a long way when you’re being shot at.

PING!
“Shit!” Paolo cried. He flinched and ducked down in his seat. An incoming round ricocheted off of one of the BTRs and loudly nicked the corner of the cab. Staying close to the armored vehicles didn’t help a lot, as our truck was considerably taller than they were, but it was better than nothing.

I involuntarily gasped as an RPG rocket zipped to my right in a flash, barely missing the truck. We’d be at the top of the hill momentarily, but the enemy fire was getting more accurate as we drew closer. Another RPG hit the ground and detonated in front of one of the APCs, causing it to swerve and sending a cloud of dirt and snow into the air.

“Oh God!” Paolo swerved the truck at the last instant to avoid the pothole left by the RPG.

“Just go straight!” I shouted. “Stay on line!” There was a horrible sound of holes being punched in metal and glass. I hunched down in the seat. Holes appeared in the windshield as a burst of machine gun fire tore up the front of the truck. Paolo grunted. He was hit. The Exodus operative slumped over to the right, turning the wheel as he went. I frantically grabbed for it, but it was too late.

I barely had time to brace as the massive Ural truck cut sharply to the right. My stomach lurched as the left-side wheels left the ground. The snow, bright green through my NVGs, flew up at me in what seemed to be slow motion. Every bone in my body was jarred as the truck dumped over on its side. The last thing I remember seeing was a sideways snowbank speeding toward my face.

Everything went black.

Cold
.

That was the first thing I consciously thought. I wondered if I was back on the mountaintop at North Gap left out in the elements again. I didn’t know where I was, and couldn’t remember how I got there. I opened my eyes to pale gray light. Nothing was in focus. I couldn’t feel anything. I couldn’t hear anything. For what seemed to be a very long time, I was utterly alone.

A long burst of automatic weapons fire echoed in the distance. It was answered by a slow-firing heavy machine gun, and several small explosions. I was able to lift my head slightly. My face was numb. I was on my side, half buried in snow.

Well I’ll be damned,
I thought whimsically.
I’m still alive.
I lifted my head some more, shaking the snow from my face. My night vision goggles were gone. The sky was clear and the Moon was rising. The snow glowed gray under the white light of the Moon. As I fumbled with my seat-belt latch, I felt something wet and warm dripping on my face. I looked up, to my left. Paolo was still strapped into his seat. His arms dangled lifelessly, as if he was reaching out for me in death. Blood trickled from several wounds on his body and was dripping on my face.

Freeing myself from the seat belt, I searched for my weapons. The truck had slid sideways on the icy road, right into one of the tall snow banks that lined it. The windshield smashed, the cab had half filled with snow, and I had been all but buried alive. I couldn’t find the AKM rifle I’d been carrying, but my SIG battle rifle was still slung to my chest. I habitually patted my left side for my revolver. My lucky S&W .44 was still there, and seemed to have saved me once again.

The sounds of battle roared from the top of the hill as I slowly dug my way out through the front window. I had to get up there and rejoin Exodus. I didn’t know how long I’d been out, or how the battle was going, but I couldn’t stay where I was. Somehow I’d gotten left behind, probably in the mad rush up the hill. There was no way they could stop on the road for very long without getting shot to pieces. Exodus probably saw that I’d been buried and assumed I was dead, like Paolo.

I managed to dig my way to the top of the snow bank, breath smoking in the frigid night air. I looked around briefly, then trudged through the snow away from the road. I took cover under a nearby pine tree with low-hanging boughs. I needed a minute to catch my breath and didn’t want to do it out in the open.

The Ural truck had been abandoned, front end shot to pieces. It lay on its right side, blocking half the road. The heavy machine gun mounted in the back hung uselessly, barrel pointing toward the ground. I didn’t see any other bodies. Everyone in the back must have survived the crash and probably climbed onto the next vehicle in line to continue the assault.

Looking through the pine boughs, I could see the dam, even without my night vision. It was illuminated by a multitude of amber lights, as well as the moonlight that was now streaming through the dispersing cloud layer. The Moon was low in the sky, barely clearing the mountains. Trees cast long, ominous shadows in the snow, and I began to shiver. I had to keep moving.

It looked like it was about half a klick uphill to the dam.
Shit.
Five hundred meters is a long way uphill, in the open, when the enemy holds the top of the hill. I wore a snow camouflage smock over my clothing, but I was hesitant to bet my life on overwhites. The road was the only option. Trying to plow through hip-deep snow on foot would make the trip take a lot longer and leave me just as exposed.

I reached for my radio. “Sword Three, this is, uh . . .” I didn’t have a callsign. Or if I did nobody told me. “This is Valentine,” I said. Fuck it, the radios were encrypted. “I’m still alive. I’m at the site of the truck crash. I’m alone, but I’m mobile. I’m going to try to make my way to you.”

There was no response. I looked at the radio briefly, then repeated my transmission. Still no response. I swore and changed the setting to unencrypted broadcast, and turned the power up. Somebody had to hear me. “Sword Three, Sword Three, Sword Three,” I said, “This is Valentine. I got left behind at the truck crash, but I am still alive, how copy?”

My radio crackled to life. “
Holy shit! It’s you!
”

The voice sounded damned familiar. “Who is this?”

“
Dude! It’s Reaper!
”

You have got to be fucking kidding me.
“Listen to me. I got left behind. I’m alone, and I’m in trouble. Are you in touch with anybody?”

“
Why are you broadcasting on an open channel? Everyone can hear you
.”

“My crypto shit the bed, or my radio got fucked up. I was in a truck crash. Listen, you need to tell somebody that I’m alive.”

“
Where are you? No wait, don’t tell me! The enemy could be listening!
”

I sighed heavily. “Look, just tell Sword Three, or someone in that element, that I’m alive and I’m trying to get to them. I’m going radio silent after that, but I’ll be listening. Keep me updated, okay?”

“
I don’t know where Sword Three is
.” Of course, we’d kept Lorenzo in the dark about the attack on the dam, but Reaper was just glad to help. “
But okay. Good luck! Be careful!
”

Be careful, he says.
“Roger, out.” I shuffled out from under the pine tree and slid down the snowbank onto the road. Before I could even get going, the road ahead of me was illuminated by bright white headlights coming from behind.
Shit.
I ran back to the wreck of the Ural. There was nowhere else to hide.

Shit, shit, shit!
My heart was racing. My breath was ragged in the thin, cold air. I hadn’t yet regained my
Calm.
I was alone, scared, and was about to get caught. I huddled by the shattered windshield of the Ural truck, crouching in a dark spot by the snow bank where I had first crawled out. With my winter camouflage, they probably wouldn’t see me unless they walked right up on top of me. I readied my rifle, which was wrapped in white gauze, and tried to hold still.

There were two vehicles. I couldn’t tell what they were, but they weren’t big trucks. Probably 4x4s of some kind. One stopped about fifty yards down the hill, its headlights illuminating the rear end of the truck. The other slowly crept up the road, to the left of the crash.

They’re looking for survivors.
I huddled even lower, hoping both trucks would just drive past. Mere seconds ticked by at an agonizingly slow pace. The lights of the approaching truck drew nearer and nearer, then stopped.

Oh hell.
I heard two car doors slam shut. Harsh voices in an unfamiliar language. There were two of them. They approached cautiously. I only caught glimpses of their movements as shadows in the truck’s headlights, but I knew they were going to find me.

A dark silhouette came into my view, stepping around the bumper of the overturned truck. He had an AK-47. I was out of time.

I snapped off two shots.
Crack! Crack!
Heavy .308 rounds tore through the man’s chest. I jumped to my feet, weapon shouldered, and moved forward. The other man came around the truck suddenly and crashed right into me.

Our eyes met for a split second. I was more than a foot taller than him. His face was young. His eyes were black and empty. A strange character was branded into his cheek.

BOOM!
Another gunshot rang out, surprising me. The young man’s stomach erupted in a horrific wound. My overwhites were splashed with blood. He grabbed his abdomen and crumpled to the ground, writhing in the pink snow.

I realized that my .44 was in my left hand. I’d fired from the hip. My rifle hung across my chest on its sling. I lowered my revolver and fired again, killing the young slave soldier, and holstered the big gun. I had no time. The other truck was still there.

Turning around, I struggled through the deep snow at the front of the wrecked truck. Lit up in the headlights of the second truck, I trudged out of the snow bank next to the truck’s bed. The huge KPV machine gun was still on its pintle, muzzle hanging down in the snow.

I squatted down and grabbed the machine gun’s heavy barrel. It was still warm. I pushed up, flipping the gun over so it was pointing to the rear. It took all of my strength to hold the heavy beast level. Grasping the gun sideways, I pointed it at the headlights down the road and mashed the trigger.

The gun roared and bucked in my hands. It immediately climbed up to my left, until it wouldn’t traverse anymore. I realigned it and fired another burst. Tracers lashed out into the night, each shot producing a blinding muzzle flash. The driver of the truck threw it into reverse and backed down the hill as fast as he could. I had no idea if I hit him or not.