'Aww, shit—if we hadn't brought the woman we woulda been outa here by now—'
'Shut up and listen. These guys weren't following us— probably got Filmore Air Force base ringed—that's a good sign—must mean somebody's alive in there. We just cut in on the wildmen—they weren't following us.'
'I feel like I'm playin' cowboys and Indians—'
'Yeah, well—good similarity, I guess. When the shooting starts, you and your private there—take up positions on each side of the defile and start pumping up into the rocks—I'll take the others through, then Rubenstein and I will set up covering fire from the other side of the defile for you and your man to get through— then we try for Filmore as fast as we can.'
'What're ya gonna do about the woman—'
'Carry her if I have to—she's my responsibility. You just do what you've gotta do and it'll work out.'
Rourke slowed his pace, risking a glance up into the rocks—he saw movement, but indefinite movement —he wasn't certain.
The reflection could have been from a natural cause—a hiker could have left a bottle up in the rocks ten years earlier, rain washing it clean enough to catch the sun.
But he didn't think so—instinct again.
He looked ahead as he slowed enough for Natalia and Paul to catch up with him.
The defile narrowed into a wide 'V' shape as they reached the height of the rise—if he were setting an ambush, it would be there. There was no way to get out of the defile except through the V-notch.
'John—'
He glanced to his left, Natalia beside him. 'What is it?'
'I feel them—up there, waiting.'
'Yeah—me, too,' Rubenstein said, at his right.
'When it comes—Paul—you get Natalia through—'
'I can take care of myself—'
' 'Paul—you do what I say—then set up on the other side of the defile. As soon as I get through with O'Neal and his men. Natalia—you stick with O'Neal—Paul and I'll be covering—''
A gunshot, a heavy caliber—a hunting weapon rather than an assault rifle—echoed across the defile. A scream-O'Neal was shouting, 'They got one of my men!'
Rourke flicked the safety off the CAR-, pulling out the buttstock, bringing the rifle to his shoulder, the scope
covers already gone. 'Run for it,' he shouted, firing up into the rocks.
'Come on, Natalia!' Rubenstein shouted. Rourke didn't look. He spotted something move in the rocks, laying the Colt three power scope on it, tripping the trigger.
A man's shape threw itself up beyond the scope's reticle, then flipped over the edge of the rocks. Rourke shifted the scope, searching for another target, gunfire from around him hammering up into the rocks, the powdering of granite evident everywhere as he searched for a target. He found one—a man with a scoped bolt action rifle—perhaps the sniper who'd killed one of O'Neal's men. Rourke opened fire, a two round semiautomatic burst, the body twitching once, then once again, the rifle falling into airspace, the body tumbling after it.
Rourke brought his rifle down, starting to run, Paul and Natalia already ahead of him, running, but slowly, nearing the defile's V-notch, Cole and his private already in the notch, firing up into the rocks, O'Neal's men running toward the notch as well.
'Keep 'em moving, lieutenant!'
O'Neal shouted something Rourke couldn't hear, automatic weapons fire coming down on them from the rocks. Rourke was nearing the V-notch now, rock faces on both sides of him, bullets impacting there, ricocheting, whining, rock chips pelting at him, the dust from the rocks thick as automatic weapons fire hammered into the rock walls.
Rourke dropped behind a fallen rock—a boulder-sized chunk of granite, jagged at the top, the CAR- coming up to his shoulder. He snapped off three shots toward the rocks, not having clear targets in view, gunfire hammering into the boulder.
He pushed up, acquiring a target in the scope, firing, shifting the scope as the body started to fall from the rocks.
He fired again, missing, gunfire coming back at him. He ducked down, a long burst hammering into the boulder
above his head and the rock wall. He pushed up, finding his target with the scope, working the CAR-'s trigger in and out and in and out—two shots, then another two shots, then another, the figure in the rocks spinning, falling back, out of sight.
Rourke got to his feet, O'Nea! and the others past him now, Cole and his private hunkered down in the V-notch, firing up into the rocks. Rourke ran past them, throwing himself through, rolling, the rocks on both sides seeming to explode with ricochets and dust.
'John—over here!'
Rourke saw him—Rubenstein. Rourke pushed to his feet, half ran, half threw himself toward the protection of three massive boulders, dragging himself behind them.
Rubenstein had Natalia's M-, firing up into the rocks.
Rourke snatched a fresh magazine for the CAR-from his musette bag, dumping the partially spent one,
