He knew it had to be a form of camouflage and sprayed more rounds in that direction. He was about to change magazines in his Kalashnikov when rounds ripped into the soft earth around him. He lay flat and prayed that Allah would stretch a protecting hand over him when something struck him in the thigh hard. He knew he had been hit and fought the urge to scream.
Ali rolled to his back and pressed a hand to the wound. Stars popped into his vision at the pain but he knew he had to stop the bleeding. He tugged the bandana from his brow and wrapped it as tightly around his thigh as he could. He barely had enough material to tie a makeshift knot.
He lay in the grass, staring at the sky as his men continued to battle the soldiers in black. Ali clenched his jaw and rolled to his stomach. He gripped the AK in his arms and crawled away from the battle. With the sniper still out there, he couldn’t get to his feet and run. He could only pray that he could get back to the trees and find enough coverage to repay the infidels in kind.
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
CHESTERFIELD STUMBLED AND fell, a whizzing sound buzzing by his ear. He felt his stomach try to retch when his brain connected the sound with a bullet. A bullet that would have spilled his brains on the ground had he not been inept and tripped.
He rolled to his stomach and tried to peer through the tall grass around the underground bunker. He saw a pair of boots ahead of him and he reached out to tap at them. After no response, Darren crawled beside the man.
The team leader that had been dragging him up the hill stared at the grass beside him with lifeless eyes, blood splattered across his face. Darren saw the gaping would directly over his left eye and the bloody gelatinous material mixed with it. He looked away but the scene would be forever etched in his brain.
He could hear the shouting of men over the nearly constant exchange of gun fire and he watched as a handful of his men ran past him and back to the cover of the woods.
Darren forced himself to roll on to his hands and knees and peered around. There was nearly a stack of black clad bodies at the edge of the berm leading to the front of the bunker. He glanced behind him and saw a half dozen men converging on a rock outcropping.
“This is a total clusterfuck.” He swallowed hard and glanced back toward the front of the bunker. He saw dark skinned men in civilian clothes kick at the bodies, making their way to the edge of the bunker.
He keyed his radio and whispered, “I’m pinned down.” He tried to force the shakiness out of his voice. “They’re coming.”
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
JIM PUSHED ROGER to the side. “Take cover behind the bar.”
Roger stared at him stupidly. “The bar?”
Jim nodded. “It’s a concrete block.” He nodded to the front of the bunker. “They’re forming up outside.”
“Then we need to retreat to the tunnels!”
Jim shot him a crooked smile. “We’re the welcome wagon.” He hefted the RPG and pulled the plastic safety from the tip. “This is gonna hurt. You might plug your ears.”
Jim watched through the dusty blast proof windows as a group of men banged and clanged on the steel safety door. He felt the edges of his mouth curve into a smile. “I got your virgins hanging right here!”
He tripped the hammer then pulled the trigger. He barely had time to note the hiss of the rocket and attempt to dive beside Roger before the high explosive munition hit the door and blew a hole large enough to drive a car through.
Jim screamed and held his hands over his ears, the ringing in his head forcing his eyes shut.
Roger pulled his fingers from his ears and rose to peek over the bar. He leveled the M4 on the gaping hole as dirt, dust and debris continued to fall around him. He scanned the opening as the dust began to settle and tried not to see the fragments of human bodies littering the ground.
He was just about to reach for Jim when somebody on the ground moved. Roger instinctively squeezed the trigger, putting two rounds into the body and two more above it as the barrel lifted.
Roger slowly came to his feet and stepped over Jim. “You okay?” He nudged the man with his foot.
Jim forced his eyes open and stared at him. “WHAT?” He slowly came to his feet, his head shaking slowly. “THAT WAS A STUPID FUCKING MOVE. REMIND ME TO NEVER DO THAT AGAIN.”
Roger nodded. “You got it, buddy.”
“WHAT?” Jim shook his head and tried to work the ringing from his ears with a finger. “FUCK ME. I THINK I’M DEAF.”
Roger gave him a thumbs up and stepped around him, the barrel of his rifle pointed to the opening. “We have to cover the hole you made. We can’t let them—”
“WHAT? JEEZUS MAN, TALK LOUDER!”
Roger turned and faced him. “WE HAVE TO COVER THAT HOLE!”
Jim squinted at him, trying to read his lips. “YEAH. WE DO.” He looked around the shop for his own rifle then pushed Roger toward the opening. “GO! I HAVE TO FIND MY…THERE IT IS.” He bent and picked up the M4. He continued to shake his head and practically staggered forward. “COVER RIGHT. I GOT LEFT.”
Roger bent to one knee and peered out the crumbling concrete block wall. Bodies were scattered everywhere and he could just make out people running through the tall grass. He brought the rifle up but couldn’t make out who was who.
