hadn’t initially thought that serious. He knew the bullet must have clipped an artery. He grimaced at his bad luck at not seeing the sniper guarding the mortar pit before it was too late. He shot the man who had shot him, but only after he had run headlong into his position, a move that had taken them both by surprise.
As he took the rocks one loose step at a time, another hollow thump sounded from below. Jack stopped and saw the mortar round arc into the cavern’s interior, where it nearly clipped the stalactites far above and then sailed downward. It landed mere feet from Sebastian’s entrenched troops. He even saw the first massive robot recoil from the explosion. Then, as if nothing had happened, the machine started digging, tossing large stones that appeared to weigh in excess of three tons out of its way. It recommenced pulling and prying at the stone and the long dead lava flow, trying to get at the troops.
“By God, that’s enough,” Jack hissed, and then jumped the last ten feet, landing in the mortar pit that had been dug into the rubble on the side of the gallery wall.
In the split second before he hit the side of the gallery, Jack shot the man, who had just dropped a mortar round into the large tube.
Collins had hit too hard. He momentarily lost sight of the mortar crew as he slammed into the rocks and then fell onto his chest and face. He hurriedly brought up his nine-millimeter and fired at the man adjusting the sighting of the mortar tube. The bullet caught the man in the side, spinning him into the rock wall. Jack knew he had slowed his reactions down with a hastily planned jump from above. He tried to struggle into some semblance of a firing position. A bullet clipped his left arm just above the elbow and another missed his head by a mere inch. He brought the nine-millimeter around and shot the first thing he saw. It just happened to be the two men carrying the M224 sixty-millimeter lightweight mortar rounds to the pit from a place where they had stored cases of projectiles. The first bullet hit the lead man in the chest, knocking him back into the second. Both of them dropped the rounds they were carrying. Jack aimed quickly and shot the second man as he hit the rock wall beside him. Both had been taken off guard by Jack’s makeshift assault.
Collins had no time to catch his breath. He felt a presence behind him. It was one of the pit guards and spun at the last moment, bringing the gun up. He was far too late, as the man anticipated his move and slammed the barrel of his AK-47 against Jack’s wrist, breaking the bone and spinning Collins to his right. As he spun, he brought the knife in his left hand to bear and caught the terrorist by surprise just as he thought he had caught the American. The knife sliced cleanly through the man’s throat, forcing his hands up. As Jack arrested the momentum of the blow to his wrist, he recovered quickly, before the dying man could get a lucky shot off out of reflex. He thrust with the knife one last time and caught the man before he could figure out that he had been killed. The Russian-made weapon fell to the rocky path the man had used. Jack slammed into the wall and turned, thinking he might catch his breath, only to see the ten men that the Mechanic had dispatched coming down the rock incline directly toward the pit.
As Jack went on both of his knees to retrieve the dropped nine-millimeter, he had to use his left hand for the remaining six bullets. That was when he saw the third ammunition carrier, followed by the last two guards. He fired with his shaky left hand and hit the most dangerous targets, the two guards, first. One of the bullets hit the lead guard in the face, slamming him against the ammunition carrier. The second bullet hit the ammunition carrier by mistake, allowing the trailing guard to take aim at the surprise attack by Collins. The guard saw his chance and pressed the trigger.
Jack flinched as he realized he had made a mistake. He should have been more deliberate in his aiming. He waited. The bullet never came. The man just stood there, unmoving. Then he saw the terrorist slowly fall forward. Jack shook his head as he saw Carl Everett standing behind the man with his own knife. He had dropped down right behind the trailing man and killed him as he aimed his weapon.
“It took you long enough,” Jack said, then went down to both knees.
Everett took two long strides forward and lifted Collins to his feet.
“Yeah, well, if I had a commanding officer who explained a plan before he acted on it, I would have been here sooner.” Everett helped Jack to a small rock and set him down. Collins slapped at his hands and pushed them away. He pointed.
“More men coming,” he said, as he grew light-headed.
Everett pulled Jack’s shirt open, tearing free the buttons as he tried to see how bad the wound was. He cursed when he saw how fast the blood was flowing.
“Don’t worry about them. We have to get this blood stopped.”
Collins again tried to push Everett’s hands away. He looked up at the ten men, who were sliding and stopping and then sliding again as they tried to get close enough to kill them both. That was when Jack realized that the men weren’t slipping and sliding down the hill-they were falling and scrambling for cover. Rounds were fired from somewhere, bringing the men down. One at a time they were hit and then slid down the incline, never to move once they came to rest. He shook his head as the last four men turned on their heels and started to run back the way they had come. Then he saw dust and dirt fly from the men’s backs, as bullet after bullet hit their mark, quickly ending their retreat.
“Tram again,” Jack said as he finally let Carl work on him.
Everett tore his own shirt at the bottom and created a makeshift pressure bandage. He tied it as tightly as he could, sending a shockwave of agony through Jack’s body. He knotted it off.
“Yeah, at first I thought I left the little bastard behind, but then I realized that he had taken a liking to you and figured he would show up sooner or later. Now we have to get you to a medic. This bandage won’t hold.”
“No, get that tube adjusted. We have six rounds of HE right here. We have to get those things away from Sebastian and the men.”
Everett knew that Jack was right. He took a quick look down below just as the first of the two robots dug a man out of his hiding place and tossed him into the air like he was so much refuse. The man hit the floor and the second mechanical killer raised a large steel foot, bringing it down on the Polish soldier. Everett nodded his head in anger. “Right,” he said, helping Jack back to the mortar tube.
He put Jack down and reached for a round from the hands of the nearest dead man. That was when he felt hands shove him away from the large caliber round. He looked up and saw Tram. He laid down his M-14 and gestured for Everett to do the aiming of the mortar. The Vietnamese reached down and hefted the first round into his arms, then approached the tube.
“Handy fella, isn’t he?” Jack hissed as he held his side. Before Carl could nod he saw blood oozing out between Collins’s fingers. As he bent to adjust the tube, he saw Jack try to stand.
“Sit down, Jack. You’re bleeding to death!”
“Have… to get… Alice,” Collins said, as his head started to spin.
“Don’t worry about Alice. That asshole’s not going to hurt her as long as he has a chance of using her. Now stay down or I’ll tie you up!”
Tram brought the round to the tube as Everett made the last adjustment. He turned and saw that Jack wasn’t going anywhere. He had fallen back to the floor, cursing his weakening body.
“Adjusting for HE, ready?” He looked at Tram.
The Vietnamese held the round poised above the tube.
“Drop!”
Tram allowed the round to slide through his fingers and into the tube. He ducked away as the high explosive round thumped into the firing pin at the tube’s base. With a loud whump, the round left the tube. Carl watched and waited, hoping he had remembered how to adjust the sighting correctly.
The round flew out and up. The whistle of the flight could be heard over the destructive digging of the mechanical assassins below. Everett and Tram watched as their quickly adjusted attempt struck just behind the second robot. The round tore a massive chunk out of the gallery floor and the robot fell backward, flailing its giant arms as it tried to regain balance. It disappeared in the flash and debris from the explosion.
“Yes!” Everett said, as he slapped Tram on the shoulder. The Vietnamese didn’t return the congratulations but only pointed.
The robot was starting to get up from the spot where the floor had given way to the detonation of the mortar round. First it went to its hands and knees, and then it regained its footing and stood. It looked around as if it knew it had been sucker-punched.
Everett gestured for Tram to reload.
The small private turned and went for another round as Carl adjusted the angle again. Tram held the second
