Private Rogue

Chapter 63

The Russian brought the goggles down from his eyes and ran over to his commander. They exchanged some words and the commander took the IR goggles, pointing them in our direction.

“Don’t move,” I whispered.

I saw the commander looking directly at us. My heart sank when he lowered the goggles. His eyes shone with the hunger of a predator, and there was a faint smile of satisfaction on his face.

“Run!” I yelled, and we turned and sprinted east.

At the same moment, the commander barked at his men, who instantly went from casual soldiers to disciplined hunters. The forest filled with shouts and the crashing of boots, and then came the gunfire. I stayed as close as I could to Floyd because I knew they wouldn’t risk killing him. The gunfire was intended to confuse and intimidate, so I tuned out the fear and harnessed the adrenaline.

Floyd and I were making good progress. The dangerous part would be when we turned south for the border post. I could see men in camouflage gear tracking us, running through the trees, trying to cut us off to the south. They moved like shadows whipping through the forest. We had to outrun them. The border post was about two hundred yards beyond the chopper. Guards had come out of the building to look in the direction of the gunfire.

“Come on,” I said to Floyd, and we pivoted south, sprinting through the trees.

I lifted my legs high to avoid fallen branches and roots, but still I stumbled. Floyd did too, but neither of us fell. Flames burst around us, spitting from muzzles, and bullets shredded the forest, but we pressed through the storm of gunfire, driven by thoughts of the people we loved.

A man stepped out from behind a tree and swung the butt of his machine gun at Floyd’s face, but I bundled him to the ground and we tumbled at the man’s feet. I jumped up as he swung again, blocked the blow with my left forearm, and drove the palm of my right hand into his chin. His head snapped back and he let out a pained groan. I seized the opportunity to punch his exposed throat. He instinctively raised his hands to the injury and I hit him in the solar plexus, before grabbing his gun and wrestling it off him. I saw two other men coming through the trees, quickly turned the machine gun on them and fired. They went down and Floyd ran over to them. I drove the machine gun’s butt into the face of the man clutching his neck, knocking him out cold. I heard shouts behind me and turned and opened fire.

I saw shadows scatter as I ran to join Floyd. More gunfire and shouts followed, but Floyd and I weren’t listening. We were running. We broke the treeline at a sprint, racing toward the border post and a group of jittery guards. They raised their rifles and barked commands, but there was no way we were stopping.

I looked back at the trees and saw the Russian commander run to the edge of the forest. I couldn’t make out his face in the shadows, but I suspected he wasn’t smiling anymore.

The Pakistani border guards were shouting furiously.

“Don’t shoot!” I yelled in reply. “We’re Americans. We pose no threat. We need your help.”