back any stragglers.
Chapter 10
Rounds snapped
overhead as Brad pressed his face against the grass, his left arm clawing at
the ground. His fist balled up to grip the roots of the thick crabgrass, using
all of his strength to drag himself forward and off the road while earth spit
up from the ground as bullets smacked close by. With his body now in the grass,
Brad pulled his rifle to his chest and rolled until he thudded up against a
rotting log. He pivoted to his elbows and pushed his head up over the log,
bringing his rifle in front of him.
Ahead, he could see
that the point man and sergeant in charge were both down, their crumpled bodies
not moving. More rounds pecked off the road, spitting dust and shards of
concrete with them. Brad saw soldiers lying motionless to his left. Just feet
away, a young soldier lay with blood pooling from a wound in his head. Looking
into the town’s row of buildings, he saw the glimmer of a muzzle flash and
puffs of blue smoke. He raised his rifle and tried to focus on the faraway
windows.
“Get some fire on
that building!” Brooks shouted. “Get your weapons up!”
Brad pulled the
trigger, firing rapidly and hoping to suppress the far off gunner. A M249 Squad
Automatic Weapon opened up somewhere to Brad’s right. The tracers arced through
the air, painting swaths of smoke and splinters across the wood-sided structure
just below where Brad saw the flash. More fire erupted from the far side of the
road as the patrol rallied and brought their weapons on line. Someone fired an
M203, the woomp of the weapon followed by the blast of the 40mm grenade.
The grenadier’s fire was true and the building’s front flashed in a blast of
white smoke; the roofline crumbled, turning the white smoke to black.
At the same time
the gunman ahead fell silent, they heard the eruption of fire to the rear.
Blinded by the crest of the hill behind him, Brad couldn’t see the vehicles
they’d left on the other side. The sound of an AT4 anti-tank rocket screeched
and echoed with the crack a large explosion. An M2 machine gun thumped as small
arms joined the chaos. Black smoke boiled over the hill; he knew the Bradley,
and possibly the LAV, took a hit and was dead or disabled by the looks of the
oily, rolling smoke.
Brad lifted his
head off the target building; the small patrol was in disarray and the three
remaining members were showing fear. On the verge of panic, the soldier Brad
spoke to earlier screamed, “ What do we do?”
Brooks leapt to his
feet where he’d been concealed in tall grass; he quickly took charge and
ordered the SAW gunner to keep his weapon pointed and covering the front.
“Anything moves,
kill it,” Brooks said.
Brooks grabbed
another man and laid him in position near the gunner. He moved ahead and
searched the terrain; his eyes locking on Brad, he pointed and then waved an
arm to the hilltop. Brad rushed to his feet and met with Brooks, already at a
slow jog moving toward the hill. He pointed and grabbed the third soldier,
ordering him to follow. As Brad approached the hilltop, the gunfire decreased
and was quickly replaced by the moans of the infected.
Brooks dropped to
his belly; the others joining him on the ground, they low crawled forward to
the top of the hill. Looking over to the far side, their worst fears were
realized. The HEMMET, LAV, and Bradley were engulfed in flames, men lay dead in
the wire, and others were running on the road, back in the direction of the
base. From the forest, a horde of Primals appeared out of the shadows,
screaming as they charged at the disabled vehicles, swarming into the wire and
pushing their way through to the down and wounded soldiers not able to flee.
“This ain’t right,”
the soldier muttered. “Who is attacking us?”
Brooks pushed back
into the cover of the hill, ignoring the man, and turned to Brad. “Get these
guys back—this is a fight we can’t win.”
“Back to where?”
Brad asked.
“Into
Chapter 10
Rounds snapped
overhead as Brad pressed his face against the grass, his left arm clawing at
the ground. His fist balled up to grip the roots of the thick crabgrass, using
all of his strength to drag himself forward and off the road while earth spit
up from the ground as bullets smacked close by. With his body now in the grass,
Brad pulled his rifle to his chest and rolled until he thudded up against a
rotting log. He pivoted to his elbows and pushed his head up over the log,
bringing his rifle in front of him.
Ahead, he could see
that the point man and sergeant in charge were both down, their crumpled bodies
not moving. More rounds pecked off the road, spitting dust and shards of
concrete with them. Brad saw soldiers lying motionless to his left. Just feet
away, a young soldier lay with blood pooling from a wound in his head. Looking
into the town’s row of buildings, he saw the glimmer of a muzzle flash and
puffs of blue smoke. He raised his rifle and tried to focus on the faraway
windows.
“Get some fire on
that building!” Brooks shouted. “Get your weapons up!”
Brad pulled the
trigger, firing rapidly and hoping to suppress the far off gunner. A M249 Squad
Automatic Weapon opened up somewhere to Brad’s right. The tracers arced through
the air, painting swaths of smoke and splinters across the wood-sided structure
just below where Brad saw the flash. More fire erupted from the far side of the
road as the patrol rallied and brought their weapons on line. Someone fired an
M203, the woomp of the weapon followed by the blast of the 40mm grenade.
The grenadier’s fire was true and the building’s front flashed in a blast of
white smoke; the roofline crumbled, turning the white smoke to black.
At the same time
the gunman ahead fell silent, they heard the eruption of fire to the rear.
Blinded by the crest of the hill behind him, Brad couldn’t see the vehicles
they’d left on the other side. The sound of an AT4 anti-tank rocket screeched
and echoed with the crack a large explosion. An M2 machine gun thumped as small
arms joined the chaos. Black smoke boiled over the hill; he knew the Bradley,
and possibly the LAV, took a hit and was dead or disabled by the looks of the
oily, rolling smoke.
Brad lifted his
head off the target building; the small patrol was in disarray and the three
remaining members were showing fear. On the verge of panic, the soldier Brad
spoke to earlier screamed, “ What do we do?”
Brooks leapt to his
feet where he’d been concealed in tall grass; he quickly took charge and
ordered the SAW gunner to keep his weapon pointed and covering the front.
“Anything moves,
kill it,” Brooks said.
Brooks grabbed
another man and laid him in position near the gunner. He moved ahead and
searched the terrain; his eyes locking on Brad, he pointed and then waved an
arm to the hilltop. Brad rushed to his feet and met with Brooks, already at a
slow jog moving toward the hill. He pointed and grabbed the third soldier,
ordering him to follow. As Brad approached the hilltop, the gunfire decreased
and was quickly replaced by the moans of the infected.
Brooks dropped to
his belly; the others joining him on the ground, they low crawled forward to
the top of the hill. Looking over to the far side, their worst fears were
realized. The HEMMET, LAV, and Bradley were engulfed in flames, men lay dead in
the wire, and others were running on the road, back in the direction of the
base. From the forest, a horde of Primals appeared out of the shadows,
screaming as they charged at the disabled vehicles, swarming into the wire and
pushing their way through to the down and wounded soldiers not able to flee.
“This ain’t right,”
the soldier muttered. “Who is attacking us?”
Brooks pushed back
into the cover of the hill, ignoring the man, and turned to Brad. “Get these
guys back—this is a fight we can’t win.”
“Back to where?”
Brad asked.
“Into
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