had constricted his throat and breathing. Blood trickled past the wire.
Romo motioned south toward the next Chinese position. Paul nodded, and the two of them began to crawl.
The Chinese had hit Poway with everything. Likely that would continue. The special infantry had been here. Those soldiers never stopped until they were dead. Now bloated corpses littered the battlefield so a foul-smelling miasma floated over the rubble.
Paul used his elbows to pull himself forward. He and Romo were part of the rearguard in Poway. They had to keep the Chinese at bay, lest the enemy motor after the escaping soldiers. They kept hearing news of other places, but didn’t care anymore. This rubble moonscape was all that mattered to them.
Paul and Romo had been on this particular mission for a full twenty-four hours. Like moles, like rats, they had moved past many Chinese outposts and concentration points. Now they approached the southern portion of Poway, a place they had escaped days ago—in what seemed like another lifetime.
The Chinese ruled the skies. The Americans in Poway lacked UCAVs, fighters, bombers, anything that flew. Tac-lasers, SAMs and linked tank defense-nets were the only way to halt the Chinese from flying wherever they wanted. Word had come to them that more American air was transferring to SoCal, but that would take time.
Word had also come down that the Americans in Escondido were all out of time. It was escape today or they would never have another chance to do so. The Chinese had made it through San Gorgonio Pass and were pushing into Greater San Bernardino.
“There,” Romo whispered.
Paul crawled beside his blood brother. They were commandos. Thus, this mission had fallen to them.
“Do you see?” Romo whispered.
Paul pulled out special binoculars. They were linked to his computers and they allowed battalion HQ to see what he saw. What he saw just now was an assembly area for more…
“Special infantry,” Paul whispered. He loathed the zombie troopers. It appeared that the Chinese gathered their men for what would likely be another attempt to drive the Americans out of Poway.
“Receiving,” an operator whispered in Paul’s ear through his implant.
“Activating laser,” Paul whispered in his throat microphone. He already held a laser designator and aimed it in the middle of the assembly area.
He didn’t have long to wait. Thirty-four seconds later, the beginning of a highly accurate American mortar bombardment hit the assembly area. Shrapnel exploded and mowed down enemy combatants.
“That’s it,” the operator told Paul through his ear-implant. “The Colonel says he wants you two back at HQ.”
“Negative,” Paul said. “We’re out here now. We might as well stay and feed you more information as it comes.”
“I’m relaying that. Oh.”
“What is it?” Paul asked.
“Ah…the Colonel has been listening to your transmission,” the operator said. “He told me to tell you that you’re not suicide soldiers. You’re Americans. You’re to get back here as quickly as you can. That’s an order.”
Paul and Romo traded glances. They both knew Poway would be their grave. The Chinese simply had too much.
Disengaging his throat microphone, Paul asked, “Well? What do you think? Do we go or stay? As far as I’m concerned, I’m sick of crawling.”
Romo took his time answering. Finally, he said, “It would be a shame to give up now, not after all we’ve been through. Let us return to our line.”
Paul stared at the special infantry groaning on the gory assembly area. A few tried to crawl away. American mortar shells continued to rain death. He wasn’t dead yet, but the rearguard wasn’t going to last forever against the Chinese. He was so tired, just sick of crawling, shooting, watching people die. Yet…he’d never given up before. Was this the place to call it quits? If he did, he would never see his family.
Paul scowled. That sounded like quitter thinking. He’d never been a quitter before, why start now just because things looked bleak. Yeah, he might never see his wife again, but at least he was going to try until the very end.
“What the hell,” he said. “Let’s go back and stick it out until they put a bullet through our brains.”
As he said that, a bitter well of determination rose up. Yeah, he was sick of fighting and he was weary. It just never ended. But he was going to see his wife again and see Mike. If he gave up, some Chinese soldier would rape Cheri and shoot his son.
The assassin looked at him with his dead eyes. There was a flicker in the center of them, something dark and deadly.
“Si,” Romo whispered. He shouldered his assault rifle and began to crawl through the rubble back toward the American lines.
With the others of the Eagle Team, Fighter Rank Zhu huddled around First Rank Tian. The thick-necked First Rank showed them a computer scroll and outlined the plan.
The White Tiger commandos stood outside a Safeway grocery store. Behind them in the street, artillery thundered with each salvo, the shells screaming overhead. They bombarded the Americans in another part of Riverside. T-66s waited in the parking lot, black-uniformed tankers sitting on their monsters, smoking looted American cigarettes.
“The enemy has stiffened here,” the First Rank said, tapping the scroll.
Like the others, Zhu nodded. They no longer referred to him as the rookie. He had become one of them through the blizzard of endless combat. Their flight equipment was piled to the side, waiting for the next mission to begin.
“The Americans believe these buildings will act like bunkers,” Tian explained. “We will show them otherwise.”
In the past, Zhu might have grinned. He’d wanted to show the others he was good enough. He was too tired these days to worry about such a thing. They had made six…no, seven combat drops since the beginning of the campaign. Many of the commandos were dead. In fact, so many had died in the battle through San Gorgonio Pass that three-quarters of their squad were originally members of other squads. The Eagle Teams had paid a bitter price in blood helping to pry open the pass.
“Zhu, are you listening?” Tian asked.
“Yes, First Rank.”
“No more stims for you,” Tian said.
The others chuckled, even though it wasn’t funny. One of the Chinese secrets to continual assaults was good stims that didn’t turn the user silly, at least not until four days of continuous use.
Zhu had been on stims for three days already. They all had. Otherwise, they would have fallen asleep on the spot. Soon now, they would have no choice but to lie down and sleep, or risk using stims and accept the consequences.
“Are there any questions?” Tian asked the group.
Zhu began to scratch his face, letting his nails dig into the skin.
“Fighter Rank!” Tian said.
Zhu dropped his hand, and he discovered that several of his fingernails had become bloody. What was wrong with him?
“How many stims did you take this morning?” Tian asked.
Zhu shook his head. He couldn’t remember.
“Stay close to me, Fighter Rank.” Tian seemed embarrassed saying it.
“Yes, First Rank.” Zhu wondered what would make the First Rank embarrassed. It was strange.
“Gear up,” Tian said. “It is almost time to begin.”
Zhu bandaged his face first. Then he began to don his jetpack and other equipment. It took time. Meanwhile,
