"Becky, Becky!" I yelled, checking her pulse quickly, looking for some sign of life, as my hand touched her neck her eyes opened and I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Becky, we've got to fucking move," I said as her eyes stared at me unfocusedly. "We've got to get the fuck out of here, are you ok? Where do you hurt?"
"I'm fine," she groaned, "what happened? Did we crash?"
"No, we didn't crash, we're under attack Bec, we've got to get the hell out of this car before we're fucked; do you think you can move?"
"I think so," she said, raising her hand to her face and wiping away the blood. "Am I bleeding?"
"Yes, it looks like you've cut your forehead," I said, spotting the steady trickle of blood that was ebbing from the thin ugly gash as she wiped away the blood that had covered her face. "It's nothing too serious, we'll worry about that in a minute," I said reassuringly, already putting it out of my mind and starting to evaluate our options.
To the outsider, that would probably seem callous, but right now, a scratch like that wasn't our immediate problem, it wasn't exactly life threatening. No, our immediate problem was getting out of this train wreck and into something that resembled cover. Over the endless whirring in my ears, I could still hear the sound of gunfire, the bad guys hadn't just hit and run, they were sticking around to finish the job; and if we didn't get out of here, they'd probably succeed, trapped in here we were sitting fucking ducks.
I looked around me, trying to get an idea of our tactical situation. Putting it bluntly, we were fucked. The front of the vehicle was totally wrecked, the driver and the Aussie hanging awkwardly in their seats. I had no idea if they were alive or dead, and no time to check them; they were nothing at the moment but an inconvenience, blocking my way to the front windscreen. The obvious way of escape was to climb out of the right hand side doors, but there was no way I was doing that; it would be suicidal to climb onto what was now the top of the car, almost certainly into the path of flying bullets.
Pausing for a second, I made my decision, probably the only one I could; spinning around, I kicked out at the shattered back window of the truck, wincing and swearing as my battered legs thumped into the glass. Fortunately, three more swift, hard, pain filled blows and it was out, cluttering against the dusty surface.
"We're going out the back way," I told a now stirring Becky, thanking the gods for my insistence on a seatbelt and a helmet. "We're going to crawl to the edge, and then I'm going to cover you, ok?"
Becky nodded, her face understandably terrified. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to comfort her, didn't have the luxury of being able to put my arm around her shoulder and tell her to channel her fear the way I had all those months ago. This time, we were well and truly up shit creek, and we weren't just missing a paddle, we didn't even have a fucking canoe to sit in.
"Let's get a fucking move on then, soldier," I said forcing a smile I didn't feel onto my face, feeling a little bit happier as she nodded and began to crawl towards the back, her motor functions seemingly unimpaired by the crash.
Carefully, I twisted around in the back and used the limited space to slip a magazine into the MP7, cocking it and making Becky jump at the sharp noise. With a deep breath, I pulled down the foregrip and slowly crawled past her to the back window; peering out, looking for danger and our next move, spotting an obvious escape route in an instant.
"As soon as I tell you to, I want you to get out and run into that alley. You get to the far end and if it's safe, then you get your head down and wait for me, Becky," I said pointing, "do you understand that?"
She nodded, "I want you to count to sixty, ok? If you get to sixty and I'm not there, you fucking run, you keep running and you don't look back, ok? You find a shop or an office and you get help; do you understand?"
"But..." she stated to protest.
"No buts Becky, there's no time for fucking buts. You count to fucking sixty and if I'm not there, you run and you keep fucking running until you're safe, yes?"
She nodded, looking at me in fear and confusion. I winked at her trying to exude an air of calm.
"Good, let's keep you alive then, Miss Armstrong. Get ready, move when I tell you."
I crawled out of the car, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face as I escaped the shattered wreck. I was trying to go as fast as I could, but at the same time take no risks, checking around me at all time to ensure that I didn't expose myself to fire. Once I was free, I knelt against the rear of the car and extended the butt of the MP7, trying to give myself a useful shooting platform. I chanced a glance around the side of the car, ducking to my right to make myself a smaller target.
"Two on the roof and one on the ground," I muttered to myself as I shifted the rifle to my right hand, forced to use my weaker eye because of the tactical situation.
"You ready?" I asked Becky.
"Not really," she murmured, "but I suppose so. I'm scared, Freenky."
"Me, too," I said unsympathetically, "suck it up soldier; get your ass in gear."
I waited in frustration as Becky took three long breaths, her eyes screwed shut. Seconds were passing as she communed with the fucking universe and my nerves were screaming at being out here with no fucking help. I heard a round ping off the car, followed by a long release of breath and finally, Becky replied.
"I'm ready," she said simply. I took another quick glance around the side of the vehicle, fixing the enemy's positions in my mind before speaking.
"Right, crawl out to where I am and then wait," I ordered, waving my left hand behind me to hurry her up. Seconds later, she was beside me and we were good to go. "On three, run for that alley, Becky and don't look back, ok? Don't forget, count to sixty."
"What about you?"
"Fuck me!" I replied losing my temper, "look, I don't matter right now. You get your fucking ass into that alley when I tell you to and count to sixty. If I'm not there, then you have run because I'm not fucking coming, you understand? Now please stop fucking arguing with me and let me do my fucking job."
It was harsh, but it needed to be. I heard her take a deep breath as I risked one more glance around the vehicle, assessing the threats for the third and hopefully final time. 'Two on the roof, three on the ground now,' I said to myself, my mental conversation keeping me calm and sane in the face of what I was about to do. 'Guys on the roof are the first target, take away the high ground, get Bec into cover and then see about the others and get away myself."
Mind made up, I took a deep breath, calming the adrenaline and seeking that void where I could just be.
"Get ready," I said not looking back at her, my finger flexing around the trigger; my thumb clicking off the safety, "1... 2.... 3!"
On the 'T' of the three, I leaned around the vehicle and let off a long smooth burst at the bad guys that were shooting from the rooftop, raking the fire across and back in between heartbeats. I had them both cold, basically they were being far too casual, totally sky-lined as they fired down on the cars. Obviously thinking that there was going to be no resistance from those inside. The firing abruptly stopped as the ambushers dived for cover, well the ones that were left alive that was. I was pretty sure I'd hit both of the guys on the rooftop, but I knew I'd hit one; his tumbling swan dive to the floor ending with a satisfying thud.
'One down, one probable, three on the ground.'
My mind weighed up the possibilities as I ducked back from the incoming fire from the hostiles in front of me, shooting from the uncertain cover of a shop entrance. I had only a few seconds left before Becky would be running as ordered and I had no time to waste fucking about. Becky on her own against three assailants would be like a fish stuck in a barrel; and with a deep breath, I readied myself to run.
'Sort it out, Sarocha. On three soldier,' I told myself, '1, 2, 3...'
Quickly, I fired the rest of the clip into the air, the shots from behind me ceasing suddenly as the hostiles presumably ducked into cover once more. I didn't stop to check, I was already on the move; briefly I cursed as I lost my helmet, stupidly not bothering to fasten the chin strap when I was in the car. Leaving it to roll in the dirt, I hit the wall of the alley and, seeing a panting redhead leaning against a wall at the end, I sprinted towards her and dragged her around a corner out of any possible firing line.
"You ok?" I said as I pushed her behind me, ejecting the magazine of my rifle and fumbling for another clip, my movements unsteady as the adrenaline coursed through me.
"Think so," she replied holding out a shaking hand. I nodded, pulling back the cocking handle to chamber a new round, a shaking hand was a good sign in my book; be it nerves or adrenaline or both, it meant everything was still working.
"Right, this is how we play this," I said risking a glance down the alley, seeing no sign of pursuit. "We're going to work our way to somewhere defensible and hold up and wait for the cavalry to come. We have the advantage here; with luck, the good guys will be on their way and these fuckers will want to vanish. We take no fucking chances though; I want you to put your hand on my back, ok? Right here," I reached behind myself and patted the top of my shoulder blade. "Don't grab me or pull me, just keep your hand pressed against my back so I know you're there, you understand?"
I didn't get a reply, but I felt her hand press against me, even through the bulk of my body armor.
"Do you understand?" I repeated forcibly, "you need to talk to me, Becky. I can't risk looking at you right now."
I couldn't indeed. One of the prime points of an evac' was to ignore the package; as long as you knew they were still with you, then you could concentrate on what was ahead or around you. The last thing you needed to do was to get killed worrying more about them than you. The package was your chief concern, yes, but to get them out safely on your own you needed to focus on staying alive.
"Hand here, don't grab," Becky repeated mechanically as I ducked back, out of sight of an armed figure that had peered just as cautiously down the alley. I could hear voices and I knew we'd been spotted and needed to move.
"Good, that's the way, Bec. Now here we go, make sure you keep up."
Half-running, half-walking with my rifle pointing the way, I led us though the network of streets and alleyways; checking doors wherever I had time, looking for somewhere we could hide. Tomy disgust, every one I tried was locked, I mean, who the fuck thinks about personal security over here? It was a fool's errand and I was in danger of either wasting time and allowing the hostiles to catch us, or getting us lost in the twisty narrow streets. My main concern with that being that I might get totally turned around and lead us back to the ambush site and the fuckers that had hit us in the first place.
Onwards we went, I had decided to work my way across the city by turning left and then right as we fled the danger; hoping that it would keep us on more or less a straight route away from the ambush site. I heard shouting voices as we went and prayed that it wasn't the hostiles tracking us, or the locals giving us away. Sickeningly, it was as I led Becky around a small, open, square that we were hit again; three gunmen, probably the one's I'd missed, appearing to my right and opening fire immediately.
Hastily, I shoved Becky into a doorway and knelt in front of her, the high velocity rounds chipping the brickwork around me. Unfazed, I managed to get off a good long burst at the three of them as they stood in open cover like idiots, the judder of the MP7 on full auto making my eyes wobble as it spat hot death across the open ground.
Two of the fuckers sensibly chose to dive for the safety of a wall at that point, screaming at each other in a language I couldn't understand. One of them though simply pitched forward, his weapon already falling from his fingers; stone fucking dead.
'Two down, one probable, two to go, hopefully no more than that.'
My mind was still relentlessly calling the score as I fired off the rest of my clip keeping the bad guys down while I scanned the plaza for our best way out. One decision and a reload later, I dragged Becky out of the doorway and, with her hand firmly placed against my back once more, led her across the square to our exit point. It was awkward to lead her along the side of the buildings, having to step sideways quickly and carefully to ensure that my rifle always trained on the hostile's cover point; letting off a round here and there to keep their heads down.
Funnily enough, despite out vulnerability they didn't seem at all interested in firing fucking back as I shot at them, not like they had when they first appeared in the square, emptying their thirty round magazines in a matter of moments. They clearly weren't soldiers; they were nothing but untrained fucking gangsters, all mouth and no trousers. They were all fucking 'great' when they were the 'power team', beating up locals, and ambushing the innocent; but they were totally fucked when they came up against someone with a lot of training and a fuck load of combat experience, especially with the corpse of their comrade lying there in front of them as a object lesson to their own incompetence.
In the distance, I could hear the sound of sirens and, glancing up, I could see a pall of smoke rising over the houses; the aftermath of the RPG rounds that had probably killed the rest of my team. Filled with anger, I fired off the rest of my clip at the low wall they were hiding behind, scuttling backwards as I reloaded. Just as I got the clip in and the rifle re-cocked, the rounds started flying again; my opponents getting cocky when they realized I'd stopped shooting. Fortunately for me, blind firing isn't very efficient and they hit fuck all but the side of a building two doors down from where we were.
As we backed down the narrow street that was our exit from the dangers of the open square, I had an idea; the sirens were getting closer so the bad guys had three choices; they were either looking to get things done quickly, fuck off and avoid getting caught, or martyr themselves for their cause, whatever the fuck that was. Either way, they weren't very good and I knew that the odds were they would make a mistake, and mistakes were the difference between living and dying. I should fucking know, I'd just made a huge one. Still, I knew a way that I could make up for my error, I could get Becky to some form of safety and then set myself a trap.
One swift boot, and a splintering of wood later, I'd gained entry to one of the small buildings and Becky and I were inside and looking for cover. Now the tables were turned, we were the ones with the advantage of cover, and indeed surprise. It was two on one and with some careful planning and a little bit of luck the predators would become the prey.
"Find a way out of here," I whispered to Becky, "and keep your head down while you do it. Oh and for fucks sake stay away from the windows just in case."
"What do you want me to do?" she said, her hand still resting on my back.
"Open the door and get the fuck away from here, if this goes wrong," I said simply, "run for those sirens and don't stop running until you find a copper or someone from the army."
"What are you going to do?" she hissed, "what do you mean if this goes wrong?"
"I'm going to set a trap for these fuckers, Bec, they're going to come down here looking for us, and when they do..."
"No, Freen, no," she said with concern in her voice, "let's just keep running, it's too risky."
"Not my style, Bec," I said as I opened the back door, looking out into the alley carefully. "My job is to keep you alive, and if I can keep these fuckers off your back, then I'm doing it. Now fuck off and stand by that door. If you hear me stop shooting and I'm not still talking to you, get the fuck out of here."
"NO!" she shouted, "you work for me and I'm ordering you not to do this."
"Do as your fucking told, Miss Armstrong," I shouted back, hunkering down and tucking in against the doorframe as tightly as I could. "Just fucking trust me, ok? Trust me to do my job in the best way I can."
There was an affronted silence before I heard her walk away, her footsteps drowned in the sound of shouting, the distinctive bark of an AK-47 and the sound of rounds hitting brickwork. I didn't even blink; it was all good, the hostiles were walking right into my trap.
This time I had my good eye looking down the reflective sight, the little red dot giving me the perfect aiming point. I sighted up down the alley and waited for our pursuers, still as a corpse, hidden against the wall and the cardboard box I'd dragged over the parts of me that were protruding from the doorway. It wasn't the best camouflage in the world, but it had worked for me many times on the streets of London and hopefully it would work here against two adrenaline-fueled idiots. Hopefully, they wouldn't see me until it was too late.
I was breathing slowly and carefully as I peered down the sights, willing myself to become invisible. Calmness was the secret to a good ambush and I was perfectly calm, totally at home on that razors edge between living and dying. For the first time in months, since Becky had last been attacked, I felt totally, one hundred percent alive. This was what I'd been born for, this was who I was.
As I stared down the sights, the tiny red dot rising and falling with my breathing, the gentle spirals not distracting me one bit as I listened to the shouts and the gunfire coming nearer and nearer as my opponents got braver. With a flurry of shooting, they sprinted into the alley, firing randomly down the narrow gap as they ran, obviously not spotting me. Slowly, I sighted up and waited for my chance, allowing them to come closer and waiting for the opportunity that I knew would come.
Within seconds it arrived, one of the fuckers running out of ammunition. As he paused to reload, I sighted up on his comrade and fired a three round burst, dropping him cold. I didn't bother watching him fall, I knew my work was not yet done; coldly I sighted the red dot on the now panicking terrorist, lining up on him as he tried to jam the magazine into his weapon withunskilled hands. He was only a young man, probably only just into his twenties but it didn't bother me; he was old enough to carry a weapon, old enough to try to kill my friends and me, old enough to die.
Lost in his frenzied panic, the terrorist's hands betrayed him; dropping the magazine to the floor with a clunk I could hear from where I lay; with a look of horror on his face he stared down the alley, his eyes searching out what he must have known was his impending doom, desperately searching for a miracle that wasn't going to come. Carefully, as if he was just another paper target on the range, I squeezed the trigger; the MP7 recoiling five times as the burst powered itself down the alley towards my victim.
I felt no guilt as I watched the rounds smack into his body, the bursts of red blood appearing as they pierced the all too fragile flesh. I may have ambushed them, murdered them some would say; but they had attacked my package, probably killed my comrades, and they'd done it all in the coldest of cold blood...
Fuck them, they were cowards, and they deserved all they got.
'Four down, one probable, game fucking over...hopefully."
"Bec, wait there," I called out, before she ran from the door as my burst ended, my weapon still pointed at the two bodies. Slowly I got to my feet and, shrugging off my cardboard camouflage, stepped out into the alley; tracking my sights left and right as I carefully approached the first body.
Quickly, I kicked the fallen AK out of the way and booted the body in the inside of the knee, a tactic that told me that the fucker wasn't going to cause me a problem anymore. Thirty seconds later, I'd confirmed that the last guy was not going to be an issue ever again either. He wasn't dead, but he wasn't long for the world, panting out his last breaths as he lay on the dirt; his hand reaching out for his weapon. Standing over him, I looked down into his pain filled eyes and watched him as he died, my foot firmly planted on the useless AK, denying him it simply because I could, sweeping it far from his flailing grasp with the toe of my boot, enjoying the look he gave me as I sighted my rifle onto his head.
I didn't fire, though it might have been the kindest thing to do; to put him out of his agony. A small part of me didn't want his pain to end though, wanting him to suffer as much as he had made us suffer. That wasn't the reason I didn't kill him there and then though, the reason I didn't pull the trigger was simple, I was a solder not a murderer. If I fired now, I would be a criminal, no better than the fuckers that had ambushed me, no more than a terrorist myself.
As the youngster breathed his last, I turned and walked away, giving him no further thought. Quickly, I walked back into the house to collect my package, finding her curled up in a ball against a wall, her hands wrapped around her knees tightly, rocking slightly as she had done once before.
"Time to get out of here," I said, holding out my right hand to her, my left firmly placed on my weapon.
"Don't know if I can," she muttered, gripping herself even tighter.
"Get the fuck up, Armstrong," I shouted unsympathetically, knowing that we weren't out of danger yet. "We can't wait here all fucking day; there may be more of them out there."
I grabbed her by the vest and dragged her to her feet, ignoring her protests. I still had a job to do here and despite the bodies in the alley, I wasn't lying, there might still be danger ahead.
"Put your hand on my back," I ordered, "let's get the fuck out of here."
I could hear Becky sniffling behind me as I worked my way through the streets, looking for the cavalry; the red dot of my sight constantly in vision as I led her ever onward. I wasn't fazed, didn't actually care. I'd shoved the part of me that cared about Becky Armstrong deep down inside of me, trusting on my instincts to get us out of the shit we were in. I couldn't afford to think about her, couldn't afford to make the same mistake that had cost us so much.
If I'd have been paying attention on our drive to the airport, I would have seen the fuckers on the roof. If I'd seen them then, we could have avoided the ambush and everyone would be alive; it was my fault that we were in this position, and it was my responsibility to get us out of it.
Five minutes after the gun battle and I thought I'd done just that, spotting what looked like a police car at the end of a street. As we walked towards the vehicle, one of the uniformed officers appeared, drawing his weapon and pointing it straight at us. Slowly, I raised my right hand, lowering my weapon with my left. Trying to appear as neutral as possible we walked towards the car, under the unwavering aim of the officer's firearm.
It was making my trigger finger itch to be targeted like this, but all I could do was raise my hands and take step after careful step; praying all the time that the copper didn't panic and open fire. Slowly, we inched along until we were almost level with the car, and I was nearly able to relax; before I could offer an explanation though, I caught a movement from my right out of the corner of my eye, and before I could flinch, I heard Becky scream and my world went black.