Choke Point

SIXTY-SEVEN

Pepper got choked up as he and Kozak broke from cover and sprinted toward the Warhound. Pepper just couldn’t bear to abandon 30K and felt as though he needed to save 30K himself — but the mission required him elsewhere. Period.

When 30K had told Pepper not to take any more risks, that if Pepper bought it, the rest of the team would be doomed, Pepper secretly felt the same way about him. While Pepper might’ve been the most experienced, he knew in his heart of hearts that 30K was the bravest man they had; in fact, he was the bravest soldier Pepper had ever known. Seeing him there, shot to shit and groping for life, was incomprehensible because if their bravest guy was going to buy it, where did that leave them?

Utilizing the Warhound for cover, they passed through a fusillade of fire so dense that Pepper found himself flinching over every round that caromed off the UGV, its feet stomping like an elephant’s for a few more meters, the air rank with the scent of gunpowder until –

The ground heaved and splintered, and then, with a creak and groan, some heavy wooden beams — the same ones used to contrast the railway — came popping through the dirt like broken bones through flesh, the Warhound’s weight too much for them. Pepper realized that this was a reinforced tunnel, and he, Kozak and the Warhound were now plummeting some three meters toward the floor below, the dirt coming with a hiss, Kozak hollering, the Warhound whining as it slammed into a side wall then hit the dirt floor and toppled on to its side.

30K could barely see through all the sand in his eyes, but for a moment, the Warhound was there, breaching the gap between huts, and in the next second, it was gone — what the hell?

Through a rising cloud of dust came Ross, sprinting toward him and dragging a wave of gunfire as though it were a cape. He came within three meters –

But a frag exploded with an orange glare behind him, catapulting him into the air, his silhouette morphing into an eagle in 30K’s imagination, a star-filled eagle with talons of gold that swooped down to collapse next to him.

‘Boss? Boss? Shit, man, come on,’ he cried.

Ross stirred and raised his head. ‘I’m still alive. Good. I’m getting you out of here. Ready?’

‘Forget it. My legs are gone. Took another round in my side. Internal bleeding, man, I can feel it. Don’t waste your time.’

‘Oh, I see how it is. You just can’t handle the fact that it’s me who’s saving you. The Navy fucker with all the baggage. Well, I got news for you, Rambo, right now my baggage is you.’

‘Then leave me!’ 30K screamed.

‘You giving up?’

‘No!’

‘Then let’s go, motherfucker!’ With that Ross got up on his hands and knees, pulled 30K around, then managed to position him so he could rise, lifting him into a fireman’s carry.

With what felt like inhuman strength, Ross started out, knees wobbling at first, but he was up with 30K braced across his back and now crossing toward the first patch of fronds near the jungle, his gait shifting to the left and right as he fought against 30K’s weight.

Without warning, an incredible sound from behind them had 30K lifting his head:

The Marines must have been watching their escape and wanted to provide cover, because at least ten came charging forward, breathing the fire of their war cries, throwing themselves right into the line of fire, lobbing grenades and scaring the living shit out of the FARC and Bedayat infantry who’d moved up. The entire outpost turned medieval, infantry killing one another point-blank, the sand turning dark with blood. Not since Afghanistan had 30K seen anything as grisly. But the gambit worked, and Ross was able to reach cover.

‘Thank you,’ 30K told those boys. ‘Thank you.’

Pepper clambered to his feet, coughing and waving dust from his eyes. He craned his head left and right. ‘Kozak? Kozak?’

‘Here …’ came a thin, almost unrecognizable voice from somewhere ahead.

Pepper rushed forward, and there, where he’d seen the Warhound topple on to its side, was Kozak –

Pinned beneath the half-ton monstrosity.

‘Aw, dude, how the hell?’ Pepper asked. ‘Where’s the remote? Let me see if I can get him off you.’

‘No time, bro. I’m just stuck, not dying. You take off. They’re getting away!’

Pepper shuddered with indecision, but deep down he knew Kozak was right. ‘All right, buddy, hang on.’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ said Kozak. ‘Just go!’

Torn once more, Pepper finally nodded and took off sprinting, adjusting his night-vision lens as he came over the mound where the collapse had occurred and followed the remaining section of the tunnel toward a ladder at the far end. He ascended and emerged into a hut filled with ammo crates, burst out the front door, and realized where he was. He looked toward the jungle where Hamid and Delgado had run and saw an APC blasting through the brush.

He raised his rifle, took aim at one of the tires, fired. He wasn’t sure if he’d struck the tire or not. The vehicle cut hard to the right, behind a thicker section of palms, now well out of his reach.

And they must’ve helped their injured colleague Valencia, because he, too, was gone.