Recoil

2

Nothing happened.

‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’

I’d already launched myself halfway out of the trench.

‘What, Nick? What?’ Silky was losing it.

‘Wait here. Don’t move.’ As if.

I clambered out in time to see Sam give the plunger another seeing-to.

Still no detonation. We were going to lose the firefight.

I ran across and jumped into the backblast channel behind him. ‘I’ll sort it! I’m going to go high left, OK? High left.’

Standish swung round in his trench, shouting shit: ‘What’s happened? What’s gone wrong? You fucking moron! Make it work!’

I ignored him and waited for Sam to give me the nod, then jumped up and ran back to my trench. Muzzles flashed and cracked below me. I lay in the mud of the backblast channel and yelled, over the din, ‘Silky, get up here! Help me, help me!’

I reached down and grabbed the RPG with the first round still in it. ‘Hurry up! Get out of there!’ I laid the launcher in the mud and pulled out another three rounds. I turned my back to her. ‘Shove them down my shirt. Right the way down to the waistband.’

She knelt behind me, fumbling with the rounds.

‘Fucking hell! Hurry up, hurry up! Shove the fucking things in!’

The stabilizer pipes scraped down the raw flesh where my rash had once been. It felt like my skin was on fire. She could only get two down. The shirt was starting to give way.

‘Give me your belt! Quick! Quick!’

Trying to go too fast, she was all fingers and thumbs. Tim helped the only way he could. ‘It’s OK, Silky, take your time. Look at what you’re doing. You can do it.’

Eventually her webbing belt came off. I grabbed it from her, wrapped it round my chest and did it up. The two rounds behind me were secure.

I pushed her back towards the fire trench.

And then I was gone. A combination of adrenalin and guilt drove me across the ground like Superman. I legged it down into the valley, following the track, slipping, sliding, a couple of times sprawling headlong in the mud. I wasn’t worried about the launcher. The rain would wash off the mud and, anyway, these things were soldier-proof.

I made it down to the valley and worked my way past the dugout and the oil drums, then headed up to the higher ground. I wanted to get behind that rear sangar so I didn’t get zapped. RPGs kicked off from the knoll behind me with a whoosh, aimed to drop and soft-detonate in the valley entrance.

I didn’t give a shit what was in front of me. I just wanted to make distance. Gripping the RPG with both hands, I scrambled up the hill like a mountain goat on speed.

I caught glimpses of the chaos on the valley floor as I went. It was all shapes and shadows. Miners, the Nuka mob, LRA, or a mixture? I couldn’t tell.

I got closer and saw they were miners. What the fuck were they doing? Everyone was going to get killed.