Chapter 50
THE THICK AIR AROUND THEM grew darker as the heart of the storm rolled over the camp. The buildings offered some relief from the winds, but as soon as their patrol had to change its orientation toward the wind or get into a more open area, they’d be half blind.
The rear spotter yelled, “Six o’clock!”
At that moment a burst of automatic fire streaked at them from behind, and the Ranger ahead of Brodie was struck in the neck and fell.
Brodie hit the ground. Tracer rounds punched through the veil of sand ahead of them now too. The tin men were coming down the road from both directions.
It was chaos. The Rangers returned fire with the M240s and EMP blasts. Grenade rounds sailed into the haze and detonated in the distance. Brodie fired a grenade toward the east end of the road.
He heard cries and screams all around him and then saw angled tracer rounds hitting the road from above. The tin men were on the rooftops too. This was a massacre.
He looked over at Taylor, who was running in a crouch west toward the gunfire.
“Taylor!”
He shouldered his grenade launcher, grabbed the EMP rifle from the dead Ranger next to him, then ran forward about twenty feet and took cover behind a building.
He could tell by the tracer rounds that the D-17s were shooting short, precise bursts and hitting their targets.
These things didn’t need to saturate the area.
They saw the enemy, and they did not miss.
No matter where he tried to take cover, it was going to be Brodie’s turn any second. Well, might as well make it count.
He switched the M4 to full auto, pivoted back into the road, and squeezed the trigger.
The EMP on full auto emitted bass-heavy electrical pounding thumps one on top of the next, as he sprayed blindly left to right down the road, and then back again.
Two points of enemy fire stopped. He ran forward and repeated it, but after two more seconds of firing, blank shells continued to spit out without accompanying EMP bursts. He must have fried the barrel, which was why the Rangers used only semi-auto with these things.
He tossed it aside and gripped the grenade launcher. He wondered where Taylor was. He feared the worst.
Behind him to the east, the sounds of battle grew distant. He was guessing the survivors had dispersed and were being pursued. He needed to follow, but first he had to know what had happened to Taylor…
He kept running south and almost tripped on a D-17 lying in the road. His buddy was lying right next to him. Brodie didn’t know how long the EMPs disabled them, but he decided these two deserved one of his last precious rounds.
He backed up a safe distance, fired a grenade, and the two tin men were blown apart.
He darted past the wreckage. There was a body ahead. A human body. A woman.
Caroline Dixon lay face down in the road, her rifle under her body.
He stood there. He knew he needed to keep moving, that if any of the tin men were still in the area, he was dead any second. It had been a long time since someone he knew had fallen in battle. Like an old, bad memory returning to focus.
Dixon spun onto her back. “What are you doing?”
Brodie was startled. “Mourning your death. What the hell are you doing?”
She wiped the lenses of her sand-covered glasses. “I fell and decided to play possum. The way they see the world, I thought they might not be able to tell the difference. Especially in the heat of battle.”
“Smart. I think.”
She got up. “Did we lose anyone?”
“I think we lost a lot of people, Caroline.”
She looked at the ground. “Oh God…” She looked back at him. “Where’s Maggie?”
“I don’t know. She headed the same way as you.”
They walked a little farther west to see if they could spot her, but it was no use.
Dixon removed her glasses and wiped them again on her shirt. She looked at him. “I’m sorry, Scott.”
“You can feel guilty later. We have the answer to whether the tin men made it to the armory. We need to get there and see if it’s unguarded, and if so whether anything’s left worth taking. Then regroup indoors somewhere. It’s our only chance of survival in these conditions.”
“Agreed.”
Brodie unclipped his walkie and said into Channel 1: “Mayday, Mayday. This is Scott Brodie. Can you hear me? Over.”
He waited. Nothing but static.
In case someone could hear him, he added, “Came under ambush from tin men near the mess hall. Casualties. Headed to the armory now for possible resupply. Over.”
Again, nothing.
He cycled channels with the same message but heard no response. He looked at Dixon. “Don’t read too much into it. Radio waves get scrambled in a sandstorm.”
They jogged east along the road, back to where they had been ambushed. A lightning strike hit the hills and lit up the road for a moment. And in that moment, they saw bodies.
The first was a corporal named Dobbs. His body was pristine except the left side of his chest, right around his heart, which had been ripped apart by a focused barrage of bullets. A precision strike.
Next was the Ranger who had been in front of Brodie and taken one to the neck, Corporal Ewing. Near him was one of the M240 gunners, Kowalski, who had been PFC Greer’s old roommate. The heavy gun lay in the sand next to him.
Brodie shouldered his launcher and picked up the machine gun by the carry handle. It still had most of its ammo belt and must have weighed fifty pounds.
Dixon asked, “You’re going to carry that thing?”
“It’s the best run-and-gun weapon we have against them.”
There were two more bodies up ahead. As they approached, Brodie saw who it was—Corporal Khan, still wearing his infrared headset, also shot in the heart, and Sergeant First Class Mike Miller, who had taken a single round to the forehead just below his helmet.
He lay on his back, eyes frozen open staring into the storm.
Dammit.
Khan’s headgear had been destroyed by bullets. Brodie set down the M240 and removed the headset. It felt like an indignity for the man to still wear it. He tossed it aside and wondered if the tin men had known what it was and targeted it deliberately. Probably. They seemed to know everything.
He looked again at Miller. It was all so unfair. So awful. Such a waste. He pledged to himself that if he survived this, whoever was responsible for unleashing these things would not.
He looked at all the bodies in the road and said, “Rest easy, soldiers.” He turned to Dixon. “We need to move.”
She remained still, staring at the fallen Rangers. “We can’t just leave them here.”
“We have to.”
“We can move them somewhere. Cover them. Something.”
Brodie grabbed her by the arm and gave her a shake. “We’re in the middle of a battle, Caroline. And if we lose, they will all have died for nothing. Don’t you understand?”
She looked at him, eyes full of fear and grief behind her dusty glasses. Then she ripped her arm away from his grip. “No, I don’t understand! I’ve never been in a fucking war, Scott.”
“That’s right. You just design wars in a lab. Good gig.”
Dixon did not respond. She looked at the dead men and said softly, “There has to be another way. This way always ends the same.”
Brodie wasn’t sure what to say to that. He picked up the machine gun and gripped it with both hands. “Let’s go.”