Choke Point

SIXTY-FIVE

The discord rising to a crescendo across the outpost was enough to nearly deafen Ross and his men. The cracking of automatic gunfire, the blasting of fragmentation grenades and .50-caliber machine guns, and the roaring and subsequent bursts from RPGs were backed by the sudden and shockingly close whomping of rotors.

Ross looked up and saw the bulky silhouette of the Sea Stallion pass overhead, one of its door gunners delivering a blistering hailstorm of fire on a position out past the huts, presumably on one of the Penguin missile launchers, the .50-caliber shell casings falling just a meter away, thumping like bugs on the sand until a louder sound drowned them out: two more Hellfire missiles charged off from the remaining Seahawk, and a heartbeat later, a one-two explosive punch rumbled in the distance, followed by strobing bursts of light across the bellies of clouds.

‘Delta Dragon, this is Guardian,’ called Mitchell. ‘The Penguins are disabled. Now get me those men.’

‘It’ll be my pleasure, sir.’

Ross turned to Kozak, who’d just dropped on to his gut beside him. ‘You and our buddy good to go?’

Kozak glanced down at his remote control. ‘Just say the word.’

Ross looked past Kozak to Pepper. ‘I need a sniper on those APCs.’

Pepper gave a curt nod. ‘I’ll show them some love.’

After a quick glance back at the APCs, whose surfaces were still glinting with ricocheting gunfire, Ross took a deep breath and gave the order.

The Warhound came lumbering around the huts to confront both vehicles –

But then 30K was hollering over the radio, and Ross’s attention was divided — because he couldn’t hear a damned thing.

Just after he tried to call Ross, 30K tugged free a fragmentation grenade, pulled the pin, and hurled it toward the ground between his hut and the others. He lowered his head as the ear-piercing ka-boom resounded and the hut rattled while the dirt began raining down –

And not two seconds after the dust was clearing, 30K was zooming in with his binoculars and probing the ground where he’d thrown that grenade … and there it was, a much deeper impression than normal, one too deep to be caused by just a single grenade …

Hamid’s men had created a tunnel system leading out from beneath the command hut to 30K’s hut, and from there, they could flee to the waiting APC in the jungle. That’s where they’d found the dirt to fill all those Hescos, and if 30K was right, those bastards were right under him at this very moment.

He saw now why Ross hadn’t replied: Kozak had brought around the Warhound, which was taking massive fire from the troops within the APCs — and Pepper was dishing out swift justice with his Remington, head shots routinely placed and delivered.

That sudden racket must’ve spooked the men inside the hut, and they must’ve heard 30K because gunfire came punching up through the tin roof, stitching a deadly line before 30K could shift to avoid it, the rounds ripping through his legs.

It was fortuitous that Pepper happened to be staring through his scope and had shifted his aim slightly to the right. There, out behind the huts, he saw them, at least three squads of troops, fifteen or twenty in all, racing back toward the command hut.

At the same time, Kozak put the Warhound between them and the APCs, the big boy glistening with gunfire, 60mm mortars bursting from its back to arc down on unseen bunkers beyond. A guided missile suddenly erupted from its launcher to streak toward one of the APCs and explode across its hood, sending the vehicle skittering sideways and the men falling out the back, some decapitated, some bloody and disoriented, others climbing over the bodies to whip around and fire from their hips.

This would’ve been a perfect moment for 30K to open up on them, his supporting fire finishing the Warhound’s job.

So where was he?

Pepper shifted his aim toward that far hut, where the door was now opening. Out burst Hamid, Valencia and Delgado, all wearing vests and armed with AK-47s. They saw the jungle, the raging battle around them, and the choice was damned clear. Jungle …

For a second, Pepper was so overwhelmed by the moment and the image (the men they sought were right there!) that he could barely get the words out of his mouth. But then, finally, they came.

And just as he finished his report to Ross, he panned up to spy 30K — his active camouflage disabled — dragging himself across the hut’s roof, trying to lift his machine gun in the direction of Hamid’s party.

Only a second-rate operator would get on the radio and scream, ‘I’m hit! I’m hit,’ thought 30K as he struggled to bring his rifle around. You don’t cry about your wounds. You suck it up and take revenge. But damn, his pack must’ve been hit as well, the active camouflage unit damaged, its status bar flickering in his HUD.

It was moments like this that made him appreciate all the training they did. The training made him harder, and hard men are tougher to kill –

Which was why getting shot in the legs and dragging his wounded ass into an upright position so he could kill the bastards trying to escape was not a problem …

Until one of them, Valencia, rolled back to face him, just as 30K was lifting his weapon.