That would just about give us enough time to squeeze out of the entrance before the tunnel collapsed behind us and the debris cloud obscured my vision completely.
“Do it, Bordeaux. Three, two, one. Hit it!”
The shock waves hit us in succession, one for each charge, the truck buckling after each detonation.
Too soon. The trucks behind us would make it out as well.
My apprehension was quelled a bit when we arrived at the cave entrance where I saw six bodies crumpled on the ground, blood oozing from shots to their chests.
That’s my girl.
It was at about that time when I also began seeing the lights strung along the tunnel behind us going out, with the dust cloud getting closer, the cave collapsing. Maybe I could lose them in the cloud, if I wasn’t caught in it as well. Just as the cloud reached the last truck, I blew through the entrance and never looked back.
Outside the narrow tunnel, I began swerving the truck violently, hoping to throw off the fire that was now incoming heavily. The enemy trucks that managed to escape as well spread out in a long line, and fired on us simultaneously. My passengers in back were now at a disadvantage, and were reduced to keeping their heads down and hanging on for dear life.
I couldn’t see Helena, but I saw an update on my eye piece, which I called up with one hand on the wheel. It showed a solid green dot on a side street, with a timer running steadily towards zero. She’d be ready at that position in twenty seconds.
Within that time, I noticed two of the trucks behind us swerve out of control with one neat little hole a piece through each front windshield. These trucks didn’t receive the punishment from the gunners in my truck, so it must have been Helena.
And she didn’t think she could handle it.
“That girlfriend of yours can really shoot, Jacob,” Santino commented from the flat bed.
“Shut it,” I replied, turning the truck through a wicked turn down the side street Helena indicated she’d be at.
Slowing as I approached the waypoint, I saw Helena bolt from a side alley and leap into the back of the truck with the same grace she had shown exiting the cargo container earlier.
“She’s aboard,” McDougal yelled, his rifle ablaze. “Move it.”
I gunned the truck once again, following Helena’s map past the claymores, our pursuers gaining quickly.
“Those claymore would really come in handy now, Strauss,” I yelled back to her.
“Give me a second!” She snapped back
My map showed we were just past the middle claymore, when Helena blew the first one, then the middle one, and a few seconds later, the final one. Each one going off in succession was enough to shake the town awake. We’d taken care of the final trucks, but not seconds later, civilians began filing out of their homes, wondering what was happening so early in the damn morning.
Then I saw him. A man. No more than thirty years old, standing in the middle of the street. I know McDougal had said civilians were to be considered expendable, but this man had a baby cradled in his arms.
In the seconds it took to close the gap between us, our eyes met, and I instantly knew I couldn’t run him down. His face showed sheer terror and with my eyes widening, I tried to swerve down another street, managing to do the worst possible thing instead.
I flipped the truck, and we started to roll. By the time our truck rolled three times, my vision had already flashed brightly behind my eyes before going completely black when my forehead smashed into the steering wheel.
***
Pain induced hallucinations were a bitch. They were the ones that hit deeply, stung like hell, and were just subtle enough that they left you questioning the experience. Then the pain smashed into you like a boulder falling on your head. My particular hallucination this time around was of my father’s disapproving eyes, staring deep into the recesses of my lost soul, before combusting into flames.
Yeah. Real subtle.
Just as my head started to clear and my vision return, I felt immense pressure building in my skull. It took me a moment to realize we had flipped upside down, and that I was hanging in my seat, suspended by my seatbelt. Looking over, I could see Wang, similarly dangling and still unconscious. Abdullah was slumped on the roof, bleeding from a gash across his temple. His chest rose and fell, so at least he was still alive.
Placing one hand against the roof of the truck, I unbuckled my seatbelt and roughly tumbled to the ground. I shook Wang awake, and indicated that he get Abdullah out of the truck. He responded groggily, mumbling something about how he thought Duran Duran really wasn’t that bad. It took him a few more seconds to come around. When he did, I saw him take out his frustration and pain on Abdullah as he roughly tried to eject the unconscious terrorist from the truck.
Crawling out of where the front windshield had been, I hoped everyone in back had managed to jump away before we started to roll. The first troops I saw were Santino and Vincent running towards my position as I crawled to my feet. They seemed fine.
“Are you all right?” Santino asked.
“Yeah,” I replied, smacking my head to clear it. “Help Wang with Abdullah. Where’s everyone else?”
That’s when I noticed Bordeaux hurrying over with a slight limp. It wasn’t until he reached the light given off by the overturned truck’s headlights that I noticed he was carrying McDougal over his shoulders.
“He’s hurt badly.” Bordeaux said. “He’s unconscious, and from what I can tell has some broken bones and is bleeding from numerous wounds. We need Wang.”
I nodded, turned around, and knelt to look inside the cab. I saw Wang hauling Abdullah forcibly out the passenger side window. He handed him off to Vincent and Santino and immediately went to work on McDougal.
I looked around, surveying the damage, waiting for Helena to arrive.
“Where’s Strauss?” Wang asked as he started checking McDougal’s vital signs and shining a small flashlight in his eyes.
Everyone looked around, but each shook their head in turn, unable to locate her.
“Stay here with McDougal,” I said. “I’ll find her.”
I tried to determine her position via her GPS locator beacon, but where it indicated she should be she wasn’t. It wasn’t until I saw a leg, clad in the rubbery material of a dive suit hanging out of a window that I found her.
I ran to the window praying to God I hadn’t killed her. Fearing the worst, I found her sprawled on a wooden table, the leg dangling from the window thankfully still attached. She must have been thrown from the truck, lucky she hadn’t hit the wall, not to mention the fact that the window didn’t have any glass.
Lucky or not, she was still bleeding from a head wound and had an extremely nasty gash on the leg sticking out the window. The wound wrapped a third of the way up and around her thigh, circling from the front of her leg, around the outside, and up near her hamstring, but at least it didn’t seem too deep. Looking back to call for Wang, I saw he was still working on McDougal.
We didn’t have time for this. We needed to get the hell out of here. Our best bet now was to get to that equipment cache and regroup.
Moans from inside drew my attention back to Helena. She was regaining consciousness, and started mumbling a name. I couldn’t make it out, but it sounded distinctly masculine. I put my hand behind her neck, propping her head up, and snapped my fingers in front of her face.
“Helena. Wake up. We’ve got to get out of here,” I offered before lightly smacking her cheek, again to little affect. “Wake up.”
She wasn’t responding, which was probably a good thing considering what I was about to do to her leg. Pulling out my knife, I tore open more of her wetsuit around the wound to make room for a battle dressing. I retrieved a packet of QuikClot from my pack, a powdery like substance that helped open wounds clot so the patient didn’t bleed out. She’d have a scar, but at least she wouldn’t bleed to death, and Wang could properly stitch it
