Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Shit.” Zenko’s yell was the only warning Shaun had before he caught movement along the ridge.
A quick glance showed the pickup that had been running parallel to them now accelerating down the sloping side of the wadi, its driver aiming straight for their position.
He jerked the wheel away as the old truck bounced across the uneven ground, the rear end fishtailing violently before the tires caught again.
“Come on. Come on.” He pressed his foot harder into the pedal, coaxing every last bit of speed from the battered Russian truck as the pickup dropped lower toward them.
The engine groaned beneath the strain, the steering wheel shuddering violently in his hands while he fought to keep them in the wash.
Automatic weapons fire hammered against the vehicle, rounds punching through the canvas behind them and chewing into the metal body, each impact making him flinch even as he kept his eyes on the narrowing stretch of ground ahead.
The pickup came closer, its front end bouncing as it hit the bottom of the slope, and Shaun swung toward the opposite bank.
Metal screamed against metal when the pickup clipped their rear quarter, throwing the truck sideways before the tires found traction again.
The steering wheel wrenched hard in his hands, and he fought it back into line, barely avoiding the wadi wall as dust poured over the windshield and the rear of the truck fishtailed again.
The pickup was still there, its driver refusing to back off, and Shaun could hear the engine straining as the bastard stayed on them.
“Now he’s right on our asses.” He yelled toward Zenko, the words nearly lost beneath the gunfire. He caught another glimpse of the pickup in the side mirror, close enough that he could see the gunner braced in the bed with his weapon trained directly on them.
A burst of rounds tore through the canvas behind his head, punching holes through the material and slamming into the metal frame.
He ducked instinctively, then straightened as Zenko’s rifle answered from the passenger side, the sharp cracks coming in rapid succession while he tried to keep the pursuing vehicle off them.
Shaun pushed the accelerator harder, but the old truck had already given him everything it had.
“Grenade.” Zenko’s warning cut through the gunfire, and Shaun caught the dark shape arcing toward the truck. He jerked the wheel and stamped on the brake, but there was nowhere to go before the grenade struck the wadi floor ahead of them.
The explosion lifted a wall of dust, shattered rock, and debris into their path, and the percussion wave slammed into the truck hard enough to wrench the steering wheel from his hands.
“Fuck, we’re out of road.” Shaun fought the wheel as the truck lurched sideways and ground to a stop against the uneven bank of the wash. He kicked his door open, reached across the cab and caught Zenko by the back of his vest. “Move. Move.”
Zenko shoved against the opposite door, giving Shaun enough leverage to haul him across the front seat and out the far side as rounds tore into the truck behind them.
Shaun hit the ground hard and rolled behind the scant cover of the truck, his weapon already coming up as rounds tore through the canvas and hammered into the metal behind him.
He crawled to Zenko and swept his rifle across the wash, catching movement as men spilled from the approaching vehicles with weapons raised.
The truck had bought them seconds, maybe less, and those seconds were disappearing fast as the enemy spread out around them.
Zenko brought his rifle up and looked toward the approaching vehicles before keying his comms.
“TOC, Ambra One, where the hell is my damn bird? It’s a hornet’s nest down here.”
“Ambra One, Horizon One, I have visual. ETA three minutes.”
“Copy.” Zenko raised his rifle again and shifted his position behind the truck.
Shaun leaned around the front of the truck and fired at the closest vehicle as it crawled farther into the wash, forcing the driver to brake when rounds struck the hood.
Men were already spilling out of the back, spreading toward the higher ground with their weapons trained on the truck.
He shifted his aim and dropped one before another could reach the ridge, then ducked as return fire tore across the hood above his head.
Zenko fired from the opposite side, keeping the men on that flank pinned while Shaun searched for another opening.
They had cover, but it was shit cover, and every second they stayed there gave the enemy more time to surround them.
He shifted lower behind the hood as another burst ripped across the wash, rounds punching through the metal above him.
He waited for the firing to pause, then leaned out and fired at a man moving between the vehicles.
The man dropped, but another shooter immediately took his place, forcing him back behind cover.
Beside him, Zenko fired in controlled bursts toward the ridge, keeping the shooters there from getting a clean angle on them while the men below continued spreading through the wash.
“They’re pushing left,” Zenko warned, shifting his position as he tracked the movement.
Shaun looked toward the far side of the wash and caught two men moving along the bank, using the terrain to work around the truck.
“I see them.” He braced the rifle against the hood and fired, forcing both men back behind the rocks. “They’re trying to get around us.”
“Then don’t let them.”
He almost smiled at the sheer fucking simplicity of Zenko’s answer, but another burst slammed into the truck and sent him ducking again. The enemy was closing from multiple directions now, and the longer they stayed behind the wreck, the worse their position became.
Shaun shifted his position behind the truck, trying to find a better angle through the windshield frame.
The glass was already spiderwebbed from the earlier impacts, making it difficult to see clearly, but he caught movement near the second vehicle and fired through the gap.
A man stumbled backward and disappeared behind the truck, and Shaun immediately shifted his aim toward another shooter moving along the ridge.
He fired twice, then ducked as rounds snapped over his head.
He dropped the magazine he had just emptied, reached for another, and slammed it into place before leaning over the hood to fire at the nearest pickup.
He aimed for the driver whenever the angle gave him a clear shot, then shifted toward the engine block when the vehicle turned away from him.
Anything that stopped those fucking trucks was useful, and right now he wasn’t picky about how he accomplished it.
Zenko fired beside him, their rifles working almost continuously as the enemy poured out of the vehicles and spread across the wash.
The pickup lurched forward again, its tires throwing gravel as the driver tried to angle around the disabled vehicle, and Shaun shifted his aim toward the windshield before the gunner in the bed opened fire again.
Shaun looked toward the open desert between them and the extraction route, then back at the vehicles spreading across the wash.
They had to be well into the three-minute window by now, but Horizon still hadn’t appeared, and every second they remained pinned down gave the enemy another opportunity to close the distance.
They broke from the truck together, Shaun keeping low as they sprinted for the bend in the wash.
Rounds snapped over his head and punched into the dirt around his boots, forcing him to zigzag as he tried to make himself a harder target without losing ground.
Zenko ran several yards to his right, firing back whenever he had a clear angle, and every sharp crack from his rifle bought Shaun another few seconds of open ground.
A man appeared on the ridge above them and dropped to one knee, bringing his weapon up. Shaun saw him before the rifle came fully into position and fired twice. The man jerked backward and disappeared from view, but another shooter immediately took his place farther along the bank.
“They’re trying to cut us off.” Shaun kept moving, his rifle sweeping toward the ridge as he searched for the men trying to get ahead of them.
“I know.” Zenko fired again, then pointed toward the bend. “Keep moving.” His rifle came back up immediately, covering the ridge as Shaun pushed toward the deeper section of the wash.
Shaun pushed harder, boots slipping against loose gravel as he reached the deeper section of the wash.
The bank rose several feet on either side, enough to break the line of sight from some of the shooters above them.
He dropped into the depression and looked back just long enough to see Zenko coming after him.
A burst of fire ripped through the air where Zenko had been half a second earlier, sending dust and loose gravel spraying from the ground around him.
“Move.” Shaun grabbed Zenko’s vest and hauled him the last few feet down the bank, keeping his rifle angled toward the ridge as rounds snapped overhead.
Zenko hit the bottom hard beside him, caught his balance on one hand, and immediately brought his rifle up toward the ridge. “Still fucking moving.”
Shaun grabbed his shoulder for a second, checking him by touch before letting go. “You good?” His eyes swept over Zenko as he searched for any sign that the fall or the near miss had hurt him.
“I’m good.” Zenko turned back toward the ridge, bringing his rifle up as another muzzle flash flickered between the rocks. “Keep your eyes up.”
He turned back toward the ridge and fired at the muzzle flash he caught between two rocks. The shooter vanished, but the incoming fire didn’t stop. More muzzle flashes appeared farther along the ridge, and Shaun realized they were spreading out to box them into the wash.
They know exactly what they’re doing.