BOOM!
Snapping my eyes open, I catch the fading of the light from the recent explosion. Screaming and yelling seep into my ears as I sit up and look around in the dim light. Sarge and Smiley are both awake, looking just as shocked as I feel.
Another explosion brings us out of our shock and sends us scrambling. Tossing on my vest, I begin to hear gunfire outside. It sounds close... too close.
“Are they inside the fucking berm?” I ask while tossing on my helmet and grabbing my M4.
“Sounds like it,” Kilborn replies as Smiley starts to clamber up the ramp to the outside. Instantly, he's shoved back down by soldiers trying to get in. Without saying anything, the soldiers rush to the edges of the hole (where it's slightly elevated to allow us to see over the side) and point their guns outward.
“What's going on?” Kilborn asks, grabbing one of the soldiers. The soldier he grabbed was a German paratrooper.
“They got inside the berm!” he yells in a thick accent, “They're all over the base!”
“Hier kommen sie!” shouts one of the other soldiers. While I couldn't understand what he said, the barking of his G36 explained the situation perfectly well.
“Shit! Smiley, get to shooting!” Kilborn orders. I watch as Smiley goes to the edge, sets up, and starts blasting away with his M249, “And watch your fucking fire! There may still be friendlies running around!”
I begin to move to the edge as well, flipping off the safety of my M4 as I do. Instead, I feel Sarge's hand on my shoulder.
“No Tyler. Take Klaus here and find Ink. She's our charge. If anything happens to her, we answer for it. Understand?”
“Got it Sarge,” I reply before motioning for the German to follow me, “Come on. We're going on a rescue op.”
“Why me?” he asks, “I'm not American!”
“Because you jumped into our hole, now come the fuck on!” I shout at him before grabbing his sleeve and dragging him after me for a few steps.
“Okay! Let go!”
Letting go of his arm, I clamber out of the hole into the moonlit night. Coming to a kneel next to the ramp, I scan the area for any targets. All around me, the din of gunfire echos and the lights of explosion temporarily turn night into day.
Fanatic yelling makes me turn to my right to see a man running between two tent. The shadows of flapping robes and the obvious lack of military training causes me to depress the trigger once, twice, three times. The robed figure takes two more steps before falling face first into the dirt.
“Alright. Where are we going?” asks the paratrooper as he comes to a kneel next to me.
“This way. Cover my back,” I reply before moving off in the general direction of the helipad. They were set up between here and the helipad. Hopefully they're still somewhere around there. I think as I move down the rows of tents and shelters.
A yellow flash lighting up in front of us and the zinging of close passing bullets drove me onto the dirt, the German following close behind. Almost simultaneously, we open up on the unseen attacker. After five rounds each, we see the shadow figure fall to the dirt. Coming to a crouch, we move forward again, passing by the corpse without a second glance.
“So, what's your name?” I ask as an explosion from somewhere else in the camp lights up the night.
“Greve. Yours?”
“Odom.”
Silence began between us as we continued moving down the path. Checking, the area looked to be clear, causing me to become more paranoid. The entire base is under attack and yet, somehow, we aren't under constant fire.
As if on queue, a fist collides with my face, knocking me back a few steps. A bang sounding in the night found itself followed by the screaming of my companion through the ringing in my ears. Looking back at who punched me, I see what could only be an Iranian soldier smiling back at me, an AK aimed at my face.
Click...
The look of confusion on the Iranian's face... priceless.
Taking my chance, I smack away his gun before trying to get my own raised at his head. Two hands grab onto my gun and push back against it. Looking at the hands, I follow them up to the grim look of determination on the Iranian's face. Bringing my head back, I propel it forward into the Iranian. The hit causes him to stumble back. Lifting my foot, I smash my boot against his knee, hearing a satisfying 'pop!' as his knee bends backwards.
Now screaming, the Iranian is forced to an awkward kneeling position. Bringing up my rifle, I calmly aim it at his head before pulling the trigger. With a resounding, metallic 'clang!', the man's blood, bone, and brain become decoration for the dirt below. After watching his lifeless body fall over, I turn to my companion to see him holding his gut with his left hand.
Kneeling next to him, I grab his rifle and replace the magazine, fishing the new one from his vest.
“I'm not leaving you here, you understand that, right?”
I watch him nod before shoving the G36 back into his hands, “Good. We should be almost there. Cover my ass.”
He nods again. Standing, I face forward, reach back with my left hand, and grab his vest's drag handle before continuing the march forward. Seeing as how I couldn't use it, I let the M4 hang in such a way that it wouldn't interfere before drawing my pistol.
The report of a G36 from right behind was enough to bring a smirk to my face, eyes still scanning for hostiles. Getting closer to the helipad, I begin to see more and more yellow flashes and listen as the explosions sound closer. So, I found that I wasn't all that surprised when bullets suddenly filled the air around me.
“Shit!” I curse as I slam myself against the ground. Seeing the flashes, I fire my pistol in that general direction but to seemingly no avail.
“We have to find cover!” I hear Greve shout from behind me.
“No shit!” I shout back as I look around. That's when I see someone waving me towards them from a pillbox. “Alright, keep me covered Greve!”
Without waiting for a reply, I holster my pistol, get to a crouch and (with both hands) drag the German as fast as I can to the pillbox. The zinging, snapping, and pinging of close rounds kept my head tucked between my shoulders as I dug my feet for the pillbox. The shooting wasn't all from one side as I could see flashes erupting from the pillbox and the soldier who was waving me on.
“Almost there man!” I shout back as I continue moving.
“Drop the corpse you bloody idiot!” I hear from the pillbox. Huh?
Looking back at Greve, I see that he is limp in my hands. In the moonlight, I can see the hole in his head and the blood running from said hole.
“Motherfuck-!”
A plume of dust erupting near my feet gave me the only inspiration I needed to drop what was once my companion and make a dash for the pillbox. Reaching the fortification, I decide to pull a movie stunt and slide through one of the firing slits into the hole.
Inside the hole, I see two Brits, a German, a Canadian, three Americans, and...
“Ink!” I shout, causing the unicorn to open her eyes and look over at me.
“Tyler? What the hay are you doing here?” she asks, having to shout over the gunfire.
“To check on you of course!” I reply as if it was the most normal thing in the world. I see her open her mouth in the lamplight and hold up a hand, “Hold that thought! I got bastards to kill!”
Turning around, I aim my rifle out of the firing slit I had just slid through. Seeing the many shadows running around in my field of view and the yellow flashes, I jab the Brit next to me with my elbow.
“Any friendlies out there?”
“Hell if I know! Just fucking shoot!” is the reply I get.
“Works for me!” I shout back before aiming down my sights, picking out a target, and firing my rifle. When I see that target fall, I switch to next and fire at it until it falls or disappears from view before switching to the next.
This sequence takes me through the rest of my magazine. Pressing the eject button with my index finger, I let the magazine drop as I fish out an extra with my left hand. Grabbing the full magazine, I remove it, tap it once against my leg, slam it into the mag well, let the bolt slide forward, and continue on shooting.
When this magazine ran out, I fished for another. Only... my hand found nothing.
“Damn it!” I shout as I let my rifle drop and draw my pistol. I fire what's left of the near-empty clip before ejecting and replacing it with a new one. Letting the slide forward, I unclip my rifle from my vest and let it drop to the floor of the pillbox.
“What are you doing?” asks the Brit that I had earlier jabbed with my elbow.
“I need a gun!” I reply, looking at where Greve's corpse lay in the dirt.
“You've got to be joking!”
“Nope!”
There was no response from the Brit for a couple seconds. Then, finally: “Just don't get your ass shot. I'm not dragging ya back here.”
“Got it!” I reply with a chuckle before taking a deep breath. Closing my eyes, I take another deep breath. When I open my eyes, I jump forward and climb out of the pillbox. Running at a crouch with my pistol barking in front of me, I make tracks to Greve's corpse.
Bullets whiz overhead as both hostile and friendly fire zoom past me to try to hit their marks. I can see dust plumes occurring around me from where hostile bullets missed me. None of this deterred me from my goal.
Reaching the corpse, I slide next to him. Holstering my pistol, I begin to take the G36 magazines from Greve's vest and shove them in my own while keeping my head as low as possible. Once I took all the mags I could easily get to, I grab his rifle, turn and begin my sprint back to the pillbox.
Within spitting distance of the pillbox, I suddenly find myself hitting dirt, pain flaring in my back.
“Bloody fucking-!” I hear as knuckles dig into my back. I assume a hand had wrapped around my drag handle as I find myself yanked into the pillbox to land on my stomach.
“What did I tell you? I said not to get shot!” I hear as hands travel across my back, “I'll be. Looks like God has deemed you worthy to save, you lucky bastard.”
Not understanding what he meant, I reach back and feel my vest as best I can. Finally, I come upon a dent in my vest. Well. I'll be damned, I think to myself as I drag myself to my feet, chuckling.
Screaming of a charging insurgent was enough to snap me from my stupor. Grabbing the G36, which had luckily been dragged in with me, I aim it out the firing slit and down the assaulting insurgent with a burst of automatic fire. Looking at the rifle, I find the fire selection and flick it to semi-auto before aiming back out the slit.
“This is for Greve, you bastards!” I shout as I begin to put rounds down range again.