precariously onto the top, he waved me up next to him. I tried to move as carefully as he had, fearing a misstep might send me sliding back down into the water and possibly give away our position.
When I finally peered over the top, I was stunned. By the dim light of the crescent moon I saw that our group, nearly thirty people strong, were being pinned by fewer than a dozen of Larry’s thugs. They were hidden behind three of the many Humvees that had paraded into Rejas.
“Wait ’til I can move a little further downstream,” Ken whispered. “The stream curves a little, and I’ll get another angle on them from around the bend.”
I nodded, and he continued, “When I start firing, I should be able to get a few of them before they change position to take cover from me. If things go the way I hope, that will put their backs to you. Then you can open up on them from behind. Between you, me, and the others shooting from the trees, these guys won’t have any place to hide.”
I nodded understanding once more. He was setting up a three-way crossfire. “I’ll wait for you.” He squeezed my arm once and quickly slipped away into the humid Texas night.
It must have taken only a few minutes for him to find his place, for the sounds from above changed abruptly. There was more of the automatic gunfire than there had been, accompanied by a cacophony of screams of agony and outrage. That was my cue. Scrambling to the top of the embankment, I planted my feet and fired at the first target I could see. Ken had gotten two with his first burst, and he had called their response exactly. They had all shifted to take cover from his attack, completely ignoring their backs.
The sound of my carbine was almost totally masked by the clamor of the hundreds of rounds fired by the others. That suited me just fine as I let off one shot after another, getting three of them from behind before they even knew I was there.
One of the guys saw the man next to him go down with my bullet in his back. Realizing what was happening, he spun to face me. It was an eerie sight. His face appeared insectile, eyes covered by an outlandish contraption extending into a monocular three inches past his nose. I realized that those night vision goggles made me so visible that it might as well have been broad daylight, while I could barely make out that he was looking at me. Luckily, I was the one that already had my weapon on target, and he died without getting off a shot.
They were down to four, but they were desperate animals with their backs to the wall. Another of them realized that someone was shooting at them from behind and dove to the other side of a Humvee, only to be cut down by our people in the trees. Three left.
The last three saw number four jump over the hood and turned to find me gunning at them. As one, they spun to fire at me; one raised up to one knee to steady his aim. Just before I dropped below the ridge, I saw the top of his head removed by a quick burst from Ken’s direction.
The last two disintegrated the crest of the bank above me as I slid back to the bottom. If I had stayed there… well, I didn’t care to dwell on that thought. As it was, dirt, rocks, and chunks of grass rained down on me from above. Time to move.
Fearing that the small amount of dirt at the top wouldn’t be enough to stop the bullets, I scrambled along on hands and knees, ignoring the gouging rocks, until I reached my new position about twenty yards back upstream. From the new location, I risked another climb to the top for a quick peek and got off one shot. Missed. Once more, I was forced to drop for cover as the stream bank showered me with debris.
I headed downstream again. I popped up about halfway back to my original position, just in time to see Ken fire a burst from his new site. He missed, too. They were too well protected from his direction and were simply waiting for me to pop my head up again. When I did, they were expecting it, swinging to fire as soon as they saw where I was. Kicking back with my feet, I let gravity drop me down the eroded embankment.
I continued to pop up from various places along the bank four more times, never in the same place, always in about fifteen to twenty second intervals, establishing a pattern. Then on the fifth time, I dug my feet into the ledge before I popped up. They swung their guns toward me and I dropped again as I had before. This time though, I maintained my footing on the crumbling embankment, and as soon as the return fire had stopped I jumped back up in the same place.
The one on the left appeared confused for a moment, aiming first at me, then shifting further upstream, as if he couldn’t believe I was really in the same place. It was a fatal mistake, as he momentarily crossed into his buddy’s line of fire. The other soldier, rather than shoot his only remaining ally, raised his rifle for the second that it took me to take advantage of the confusion. I got off several shots, hitting the confused thug in the chest and head and clipping the other in the shoulder. I dropped again before the wounded man could recover and return fire.
Further upstream, further from Ken than I had yet shifted, I once more jumped up to try for the last soldier, but found only scattered bodies. I couldn’t very well hope the fight had gone out of him and just let him lay there, but neither could I afford to go over the top and search the bodies. That would expose me to those damned night vision goggles. Sticking my head and rifle back up where I could scan the slaughter, I examined the bodies carefully. The gunfire died out as our people slowly realized that they were the only ones doing any shooting, and the smoke from the enemy guns began to thin in the light breeze. There was no sign of movement.
Keeping my eyes and gunsight on the still bodies, I yelled, “Ken? You okay?”
“Yeah, you?” His voice came from exactly where I had expected it. He was still positioned to catch any movement from that side of the bend.
“So far, but there’s one left…”
I could hear movement from downstream in his direction, then more movement from upstream, the rapid clattering of light-soled shoes running through water, gravel, and mud. The noise came toward me quickly and was accompanied by a shouted, “Noooo!” I spun to face the scream, losing my footing as I did so. It was only about five feet back down to the streambed, but I was completely out of control as I slid directly toward this new attacker and landed in a sprawl, the carbine six feet away. Fearing that it was in vain, I struggled to my feet, hoping there might be a chance that I could reach my rifle in time. Looking up, I faced my attacker and knew it was too late. A man dressed in black, face smeared with mud and dirt, ran screaming toward me, pistol already drawn and aimed.
There was no way I would be able to get to my weapon before he got off a shot. In that slow-motion moment before he fired, I scanned wildly for someplace to go, to get out of the way. But there was only the dirt ledge of the bank on one side, and the slick footing of the muddy streambed on the other. I had inadvertently trapped myself. I dropped back to the ground, intent upon getting out of the path of the bullet that had to be coming.
Finally, he fired. Three shots, deafening at such intimate range, and for the next second or two, I waited to feel the agony of a bullet ripping through me. When it didn’t happen, I realized he had somehow missed, and I gathered my legs beneath me and launched myself at him. Diving to the ground in front of him, I tucked and rolled, lashing out with my feet as I spiraled out of it. One foot behind his ankle, the other on his knee, and he dropped to the ground in a heap. I rolled to my feet, relinquishing the hold, and stood on his knee for a second as I leapt for the pistol that had gone flying from his grip. I expected to have to fight him for the gun; the leg-lock I’d used might hurt a bit, but it was far from debilitating. Surprisingly, I got the handgun and spun to face him again without resistance. He just lay there with his hands above his head as I pointed the pistol.
“It’s me, Sensei!” a familiar voice screamed, terrified. “Don’t shoot!”
“Leeland!” Ken’s voice came from behind me.
It was all happening too quickly, and I stood confused for a moment, panting and trying to sort everything out. Eyes wide and frightened, Billy lay on the ground before me. I was stunned, disbelieving. But as I looked closer, there was no doubt. By the faint moonlight, I could just make out his features, even the mud-coated tattoo on his forehead.
“He was going to shoot you,” Billy babbled. “I didn’t have time to warn you! I’m sorry, but I followed you, and… I had to show you I wasn’t like them. I had to show you! I just wanted to help!”
“Leeland!!” Splashing, running footsteps came up from behind as my mind began to comprehend what the boy was telling me; I whirled around to look. The last soldier lay dead in the mud. It hadn’t been Ken I’d heard coming from downstream. Ken was just now rounding the last bend, rifle at the ready, trying to make sense of the scene before him.
