from sixty to fifty, then forty, then thirty. Shirin readied herself, but then forced her muscles to relax. All she had to do was duck down when Harry pressed the gas. Simple.
The light became a shape, then expanded into a red-and-white barrier across the road. She hoped it wasn’t made of metal. A soldier was standing to the right, waving a flashlight.
Shirin saw him take a few steps. “He’s walking toward the road.”
“Idiot,” Yousef commented. “You never step in front of a moving vehicle.”
“Never mind that. Shoot.”
Although she should have ducked, she had to watch. Yousef brought the rifle up from his lap, leaned out of the passenger side window, and fired a long burst. Inside the cab, the noise was deafening, and the smell of burnt propellant made her gag. She didn’t see any bullets hit the soldier, but he went down in a crumpled heap.
Harry was shifting gears, although she couldn’t hear the engine until Yousef stopped firing. Lightly loaded, the truck quickly picked up speed and Harry shifted gears again, just as the front bumper hit the barrier. The engine almost howled as he accelerated. It flew up and to one side, and then she felt and heard pieces breaking under the truck’s tires.
Alizadeh, on the hill with the squad’s night-vision scope, had seen the truck and called out. “It’s an army truck, approaching from the east!”
Sistani, standing near the base of the rise, didn’t have to sound the alert. After hearing about what happened at Charak, he was more concerned about the squad firing on a real army vehicle. Probably full of officers, with his luck.
Then it crashed the barrier and they heard the gunfire.
“Squad, open fire!”
Shirin saw tracers flying across in front of them, and heard a sound like hail on the left side of the truck. Harry yelled, “Fire from the left!” and floored the accelerator. But even as the truck sped up, explosions sprouted from the pavement a few car lengths in front of them. In the truck’s headlights, some flashed red and gray. Others spat out billows of white smoke.
Yousef called out, “Fire from the right!” and Shirin saw tracers, a lot of them, coming through the smoke, from the right side of the highway. Were they surrounded?
The explosions seemed closer, and Harry shouted, “We’ve got to get off the road!” He jerked the wheel to the right and downshifted. The problem was that the ground sloped away on that side, and was cut by streambeds and gullies.
Only one headlight was working, Shirin noticed, as the truck swerved off the pavement. Harry left it on, needing the light more than the concealment. She saw the driver’s side window crack in a star pattern, then the windshield.
A line of flame, much brighter and thicker than tracers, flashed from behind and to the right, missing them by a foot and disappearing into the darkness. “RPG!” Harry shouted. “I’m going to try to get us into a streambed!”
The truck was rocking violently from side to side, the result of Harry’s driving and the uneven terrain. Shirin gripped Yousef’s left arm with both hands, probably tightly enough to hurt, but she saw him hanging on to the door handle with his right hand so they wouldn’t be thrown around. She wondered if any of the truck’s tires had been hit.
It was hard to make out anything through the damaged windshield. The ground in front of them seemed to heave as the truck lurched and bounced. The tracers didn’t improve the view, either. Shirin hoped the truck’s wild motion would spoil their attacker’s aim.
Harry certainly wasn’t slowing down. It wasn’t clear whether he was still heading for cover or just fighting for control when their wild ride came to a sudden end. A sharp jolt threw them all forward, and then to the right side of the cab. The SEAL’s grip on the wheel was the only thing that kept him from landing on top of her. The truck stopped moving forward, but the right-hand tilt increased until she was sure they were going over. She tried to curl up in a ball, to protect the baby, but there was not much room to move.
They landed with a messy crash. Harry, hanging onto the steering wheel, shouted, “Cover your eyes!” and kicked with both feet. From her viewpoint, each looked as big as the truck itself. On the third kick, the windshield broke and fell away. “Get her out of here!” the American ordered.
Harry took Shirin’s arm and pulled her up and clear. Yousef untangled himself, standing on the side door and then crawling out. While her husband stood up outside, Shirin worked her feet onto the edge of the opening, then let go of Harry’s hand and fell forward into Yousef’s arms. Shouting, “Stay down!” Harry stopped long enough to pass out Yousef’s rifle, and then climbed out himself.
Jerry had heard the gunfire and felt the bullets striking the side of the truck even as he’d heard Harry’s call and felt the truck’s engine rev. Crouching as low as they could on the floor, the four men in back could do nothing but hang on for dear life as the truck sped up, then suddenly slowed, and swerved right.
The truck’s downward progress off the road threw everything into the air or against the sides or ends of the space. Even Jerry became airborne when he lost his grip on the bench, landing heavily on Phillips.
Ramey, sitting near the front, had reacted by grabbing the seats on each side with his hands and extending his legs under the benches, bracing them against the supports. Relatively secure, Jerry could still see him strain to hold his position, and Ramey took hard impacts from several flying objects.
It got worse when the truck tipped over. The sudden deceleration threw everything and everyone to the front, with the lieutenant under it all. It spilled to the right as the bed went vertical, then a little past vertical on the downward-sloping ground.
Jerry coughed, tried to move, and realized his legs were entangled with Phillips, while one arm was pinned under Lapointe and several knapsacks, which now seemed to be loaded with rocks.
“Out! We have to get out!” Lapointe shouted. The petty officer was nearest the open end of truck, and struggled out from under a tangle of gear. He snatched the closest rifle and half-staggered to the opening.
Jerry flexed his liberated arm. Once assured it was working, he pulled himself clear of Phillips and helped him to stand on what had been the truck’s side, now the floor. “Look after the boss,” Phillips shouted as he grabbed a rifle and joined Lapointe by the back.
Ramey was unconscious, and Jerry forced himself to carefully check the lieutenant’s pulse and breathing. He was alive, and moaned as Jerry checked for broken bones or other trauma. “Ow. All right, I’m awake. Ahhhh,” he groaned, as he moved his arms then untangled his legs from the bench seats. Pulling himself to a kneeling position, he called, “Pointy, Philly, somebody tell me what’s going on.”
“Lot of fire from both sides of the road, Boss. It’s died off, now.”
“They probably think we’re dead,” Ramey answered. “Let’s see if they send someone to check out the wreck.”
“We’ll keep out of sight.”
“What about Harry and the Iranians?”
“I’m here,” Harry reported. “No casualties. I need my weapon. The precious cargo is under cover, next to the truck. There’s a machine gun fifty plus meters away on this side of the road, and I saw RPG fire. I had to get off the road because they had a mortar zeroed on it.”
They grabbed weapons and packs. Lapointe handed Harry his rifle, and then passed Jerry the night-vision goggles. “Give these to Yousef.”
Ramey ordered, “Harry, Philly, XO, go up front by the cab. Harry, see what you can do about that machine gun. Pointy and I will stay back here and see if we can put some fire down. They could rush us any time. Move.”
The group had been huddled down, half inside the truck and the others behind. Lapointe and Ramey moved first, turning to lay prone on the sloping ground facing toward the enemy. As they moved into position, Jerry heard several single shots, spaced a few seconds apart.
Dirt and pebbles kicked up near Lapointe, and he cried out.
Jerry and Phillips moved Lapointe to safety by the simple expedient of grabbing his feet and pulling. Fazel