Weapons of the Gods

CHAPTER FORTY TWO

Drake launched his body across the wide river, landing with boots firmly in the dusty mud, then ran up the short slope to the edge of the tent village. The chaos was intense here. Terrorists and mercs had been resting, some sleeping, taking a break from the day with the sun at its hottest. Gunfire had roused them and they had come out firing, especially the mercs that were better trained.

Drake launched himself atop a dark-skinned young man, punched him to the ground, the two rolled, crashing into a tent. Alicia fell beside him, struck horizontally by a man that had been flung by another. Dahl’s boot landed in Drake’s opponent’s face, smashing down hard; then Dahl was dragged away by two mercs. Drake elbowed his opponent, drew a knife and stabbed him twice. Then he saw Alicia rise, and looked for Dahl.

The Swede lay on his back, arms scrabbling in mud, as two men struggled to stay on top. One punched his face, the other punched his midriff. Dahl was attempting to roll them off. Drake hooked an arm under the closest man’s chin and heaved, crushing the throat at the same time. Alicia went for a flying kick, striking the other man in the left ear with her boot. He toppled clear and Dahl was free.

There was no time for gratitude. Alicia was dragged backward by a huge merc and then that man fell in a pothole, staggering into a tent. The material enfolded them, thrashing left and right as Alicia and her opponent sought superiority.

Drake twisted so hard he thought his foe’s head would come off. The struggle didn’t last long. Drake left the man face-down, turned and was then hit full in the face with the butt of a rifle. He staggered back, down the slope, a step at a time. Blood ran into his eyes, stinging and blinding him. A knife deflected off his stab vest, and then the butt of the rifle came again, making him think the wielder was out of ammo. In the end it was the river that stopped him.

Boots splashed down in running water as Drake finally managed to stop backpedalling. The fighter must have launched himself through the air because his bulk struck Drake then and sent him crashing down into the deep water. He fell and rolled, swallowing a mouthful, coughing, thrashing. A hand found his throat, holding it down. Drake struck up twice, seeking soft targets and finding what he thought was a ribcage. The knife was still in his hand so he twisted hard and thrust that up through the water as hard as he could. The blade sank in and the pressure eased, the figure twisting away still with the knife in its body.

Drake surfaced fast, sputtering. Water fell from his top half in torrents.

At last, his vision cleared. He was on his feet now, chest above water, staring up the slope and at the tent village.

Figures struggled everywhere. Shots and screams rang out without relent. Drake saw several comrades struggling, and splashed his way out of the river and back through the mud to the top of the incline. Handgun out, he resorted to point and shoot. Where a merc or terrorist stood in space, Drake shot them. Eight went down and his own colleagues stood or knelt and did the same.

Mercs came at them again, a wave of screaming outlines. More hand-to-hand combat broke out. The terrorists were backing away from every encounter, being herded toward the center of the tent village. As Drake stood among the fallen tents he looked for his friends.

Alicia spun and shot an oncoming merc. Dahl threw a man into a tent so that the material enfolded him, giving the Swede an easy kill. Kenzie held her own against another, using two knives to confuse and strike in tandem, leaving the man defenseless before ending his life. Luther and Mai were almost at the center of the tent mass, at the far end of a path of fallen material and men which, Drake guessed, the two had mostly caused.

Other members of their team fought all around them.

Sweating, still dripping water, bleeding from a dozen wounds, Drake labored through the mass to Alicia’s side. He was just in time to stop a merc rising from the floor, gun in hand. Drake picked up a discarded gun and shot him. The Special Forces teams consistently watched each other’s backs, always lending an eye for a colleague.

Luther’s voice blared through his earpiece. “Team Ricardo has met major resistance in the false town,” he said. “Mop up here and move out.”

Drake swore. Was Luther implying this wasn’t major resistance? Shit, what were the other team up against? He shot a man emerging from a tent with an RPG cradled across one shoulder; kicked out at one more that lay in the dirt, still lively enough to cause trouble.

Alicia spun. “You in one piece?”

“More or less. You?”

“Think I broke a nail on some bell end’s tooth.”

“Shit, I’m so glad you added that last word.”

Again, they were parted. Drake threw a man over his shoulder; then staggered beneath another’s heavy blow, finding himself on his knees, staring at bloodied earth. A quick twist and he launched his body to one side, gaining precious seconds. The next attack was stalled, though, as Dahl turned up and confronted Drake’s opponent.

Four seconds later, Drake, Alicia and Dahl stood shoulder to shoulder.

“There,” Alicia said.

Luther, Mai and a dozen others had converged on the center of the tent town. The mercs and the terrorists were rallying there, showing the last of their resistance. Luther carried a machine gun in each hand, their barrels so hot with constant use they appeared to be on fire. Smoke surrounded the scene. Kenzie launched herself in to it so carelessly, armed only with knives, that even Dahl winced.

“Shall we?”

Scooping up the weapons they needed, the trio hurried across earth that was thick with clumps of matted soil, grass, dirt and blood. The battlefield was laden with the dead and the dying. Drake saw their own men being tended by others. They came at the center to either side of Luther and Mai, seeing mercs falling ahead, unable to shoot in any one direction for fear of an enemy at all sides. Team Luther came from north and south, east and west, routing and devastating the mercenary lines. Every trainee terrorist that Drake could see knelt in the dirt with their hands on their heads — defeated.

Soon, the tent village was captured. Luther ordered men to bind the captives and just a few to stay behind to watch them.

Drake gazed over to the makeshift town, the last and worst area of resistance. Buildings were on fire, spitting flames from their roofs. RPGs fired and grenades exploded.

And of course, it was right where Team SPEAR needed to be.