Dead Six 02 - Swords of Exodus

by Larry Correia

  “Lorenzo,” Kat shouted over the noise. She had a familiar weapon in her hands, and she gestured for me to come toward her. I slowed up, the others quickly leaving me behind.

  “What, Kat? I see you’ve still got Mr. Perkins.”

  “Yes. He is my favorite.” She held up the M79. She had used that same old 40mm grenade launcher on quite a few jobs. It had been a little unnerving when she had given it a name, but she was an artist in its use. “I’m glad to see you made it.”

  “Thanks, look, I’ve got to go,” I started walking. I didn’t have time for her bullshit.

  “I just wanted to tell you one thing.” She grabbed my arm. I could see her white teeth glowing in the dim light as she smiled. “No matter what happens here tonight—”

  Something impacted the sheet metal of the chopper over her head, showering both of us with metal fragments. I flinched down. Kat’s smile disappeared, and Mr. Perkins moved to her shoulder as she zeroed in on the muzzle flash from the sniper.

  BLOOP

  A full three seconds later, there was a small explosion on a bunker’s roof and the sniper was permanently silenced. “No matter what happens tonight,” she continued talking as she popped open the single-shot weapon to shove another huge shell in, as if nothing had happened. “I just want you to know that I’m really glad you showed up. It was good to see you again.”

  “Uh, yeah. Me too.”

  “It has helped me set some things straight, to reexamine my life, if you will.” She suddenly leaned in and kissed me gently on the cheek. My face was so frozen that it almost burned. It was strange in that she actually seemed calm and in control. “Goodbye, Lorenzo.”

  Another bullet impacted near us as somebody opened up from the far wall with an AK. Katarina shrugged and aimed her 40mm. I used the opportunity to run after my team.

  The warhead had screamed by so close I could have reached out and touched it.

  “Son of a bitch!” I shouted as the RPG exploded fifty feet behind me. Anders rolled around cover and started shooting at the shadows where the rocket had come from. “Reaper!” I hit my mike and shouted “Come in Reaper!”

  “You’ve got ten of them moving in a trench ten meters in front of you, and I saw at least one move into the elevator shaft.” Reaper sounded relatively calm, but he should, since he was sitting in a truck miles from here. “You’ve got to remember that when they’re under a roof, I can’t see them on thermal—“

  Yeah, whatever. I tuned out the technical explanation and refocused on the crazy people trying to kill me. I saw a man leap out of the trench and sprint for the elevator. I put the Aimpoint dot on him and started shooting. I must have hit him in the legs, as they flew out from under him and he sprawled in the snow. Somebody nearby with a larger caliber rifle finished him with a shot through his face.

  “Phillips!” I shouted over the din. The remaining soldiers must have had a lot of ammo stashed, and they weren’t trying to save any of it. The young man looked up from the stock of his rifle. “Cover the elevator door. Somebody’s in there.”

  “Got it!”

  There were two full teams of Exodus operatives converged on this spot when we had arrived. We had moved up right between them and hit the soldiers from a third angle. A few feet to my right was an Exodus sniper with a Sako bolt action. It took me a moment to recognize that it was Svetlana under that fur hood and tac gear. A soldier started out of the trench and she rocked under the recoil as she took the top of his skull off.

  I had scrounged up several frags on our trip across the compound. There had been plenty of them just lying around, and the previous owners had been in no shape to argue with me about taking them. They were those nasty little Southeast Asian ones that were wrapped in pre-stressed wire. I yanked a pin and tossed one, waited just a second, then followed it with another. Amazingly enough, even as cold numbed as my hands were, I managed to land both of them in the trench, but I had gotten a lot of experience chucking grenades back in Africa.

  The soldiers in the trench were on the ball though, because both of the grenades were tossed back out to explode harmlessly in the snow. Sure, I could have pulled the pin and waited a second before throwing them, but I had learned not to trust Third World grenade fuses.

  The Exodus team leader to the right must have decided that they were out of time. With a ragged battle cry the entire group of them popped up and ran toward the trench. It was brave, and maybe suicidal, but no more suicidal than still being inside this compound when the reinforcements arrived from the mines.

  The elevator door popped open, and a soldier with an RPG launcher stepped out, but Phillips had been doing exactly what I had asked him to do, and the soldier went down in a spray of arterial blood before he could launch the rocket.

  Muzzle flashes erupted from the trench and some of the charging Exodus people went down, screaming as bullets tore through their flesh, spilling their blood into the snow. But some of them made it through, and I could see them silhouetted in the moonlight as they stood on the lip of trench, and fired downward into the remaining soldiers.

  Finally, the gunfire stopped. The only sounds were the moans and screams from the wounded.

  “Reaper?”

  “They’re still warm, but they ain’t moving.”

  “Ibrahim. We’ve got the silo,” I said quickly.

  “Understood. Assault element moving in,” he said breathlessly.

  I moved forward, my team right behind me. The young guys looked slightly shocked. These were their comrades that were in front of us bleeding and dying. They each moved to help one of the wounded. I saw Svetlana sitting in the snow at the lip of the trench. Her big Sako was in her lap, and she was staring stupidly at her hand.

  I knelt at her side. She had pulled off her glove, and held her delicate left hand up to show me. Her smallest two fingers were missing, just jagged bone stumps sticking out of her palm. “I didn’t even feel it . . .” she said.

  “Don’t worry. You will,” I responded as I pulled a roll of bandages out of my pocket and started wrapping it tightly around her hand.

  “Ooohh . . .” Her eyes rolled back into her head. “Yes, I believe you’re right.”

  “You’re going to be fine,” I said reassuringly. The only good thing about the cold was the blood flow to the extremities was slower than normal. “Your friend’s charge was stupid. You know that right?”

  She spoke through gritted teeth. “We are Exodus.”

  “Yeah, now get your ass back to the chopper before you pass out,” I ordered. She shook her head, being stubborn. I saw Roland standing nearby. The man that he was trying to help had just stopped breathing. “Roland! Get Svetlana back to the chopper.” He quickly complied, helped her to her feet, grabbed her sniper rifle, and half-escorted, half-carried her back in the direction we had come from.

  Ibrahim sprinted up to the pit. Behind him was the assault team, each of them carrying climbing rope, tools, and explosives. The doors of the silo itself had been designed to withstand a nuclear war and would take hours to break through, so they were going to go down the same shaft I’d used when I had visited before, but they’d probably still have to cut through multiple blast doors to reach Jihan’s quarters.

  I noticed for the first time that in addition to his stubby .308, Ibrahim also had a sword on his belt, an actual friggin’ scimitar, and it looked like an antique, complete with rubies on the hilt. I had to admit, these guys had style. The Exodus commander surveyed his men as they circled the top of the silo. He spoke when he saw me. “Lorenzo, take your team and get your brother. I will be out of contact from here on out. Fajkus is now leading the operation.” He was very somber. “Godspeed, my friend.”

  I nodded once, then went after Bob.

  Chapter 21: Poor Life Choice

  VALENTINE

  The Dam

  March 25th

  The interior of the dam was dark and smoky. Many of the lights had been shot out in the firefight. I pulled a small flashlight
from my vest and used it to help me navigate.

  The narrow corridors were filled with the low-pitched hum of the dam’s turbines. Above that, voices echoed throughout the structure. Scattered Exodus personnel hurried to and fro, carrying supplies and moving the wounded. An aid station had been set up just inside the doorway. A pair of medics tended to the wounded and covered the dead.

  I ran into Ling in the upper level of the dam, almost literally, as she and another Exodus operative were hurrying the other way. “Michael!” She threw her arms around me and embraced me tightly, for just a moment. My slung rifle clattered against the SIG 551 that hung from her shoulder. The air was cold but she was warm.

  The other Exodus operative maintained a poker face and said nothing. Ling stepped back, blushing slightly, and cleared her throat. “I was worried when you didn’t arrive with us.”

  “I got left at the truck crash.”

  “As I feared. And your driver?”

  “Yeah, the kid didn’t make it,” I said. “His name was Paolo.”

  Ling closed her eyes for just a moment, and took a deep breath. “There is no time to mourn now. We must hurry. The raid on Sala Jihan’s main compound is well underway. I just heard Ibrahim on the radio, they’re about to breach Jihan’s personal quarters. Come with me,” she said, and I followed her back outside.

  “What kind of nutjob lives at the bottom of a missile silo?” I asked, as we stepped back out into the night air. “And how much longer until the explosives are in place?”

  “Not long,” Ling replied, before shouting orders to some other personnel in Mandarin.

  “How will you be initiating it?”

  “Two ways. We’re going to have time-fuse as a backup. Our primary means of initiation will be radio. We’ll spool a firing wire out to the surface, hooked to a receiver, as we withdraw across the dam. It’s redundant.”

  That was good. If for whatever reason this huge demo shot misfired, it was very unlikely we’d be able to get in, fix the problem, and get back out alive. We only had one shot and Exodus was leaving as little to chance as possible.

  Ling changed the subject. “I’m glad that you’re well, I truly am. We need every able body we can find now.”

  That sounded ominous. “What’s happening?”

  “Reinforcements are coming from the mines.”

  I closed my eyes tightly and sighed. It wasn’t exactly a surprise, but it was far from good news. “How many?”

  “Many. Lorenzo’s man has a small drone that is tracking them with thermal cameras. They’re on their way here now. I don’t know what’s happening. The Montalban Exchange’s mercenaries do not seem to have begun their attack on the garrison in town.”

  “That’s not good. How are things going at the fortress?”

  “I have no news of Mr. Lorenzo, if that’s what you’re asking. Though no one has called me to tell me that he is dead. So far, all seems to be going according to plan there.”

  “How long do we have?” I asked.

  “Maybe ten minutes, fifteen if we’re very fortunate. I need you to help me get everything organized up here. Katsumoto is down below with our engineers and demolitions men, supervising the final placement and priming of the explosives. Right where he should be, as that is the primary mission. I have been charged with holding the line up here until we are ready to leave.”

  “Is there any chance that we can get out of here before they get to the road at the bottom of the hill and cut us off?”

  “That is the hope,” she said. “But it is not likely.”

  “We’ll hold them, Ling,” I promised.

  We spent the next few minutes hurriedly trying to reorganize the defense of the dam. The focus was now on the west, where we’d come from, instead of east, even though the east side hadn’t been completely cleared and we couldn’t ignore it. If we were pushed back across the dam, there probably wouldn’t be any escape for us. The terrain on the east side was too rugged for vehicles, and we wouldn’t last long hiking around the mountains on foot.

  Everybody that could hold a weapon, wounded or not, was put on the line. We were likely outnumbered. If they broke through, none of us would survive. Certainly no one wanted to be captured and taken to Sala Jihan alive.

  Our barricade was moved to the very west end of the dam, near where I had parked my stolen truck. The BTR-70 that was still intact rolled into position, once again sideways, blocking off almost the entire road by itself. The other trucks were lined up in such a way that they could leave in a hurry once the explosives were in place, assuming they had anywhere to go.

  Sala Jihan’s forces would face the same kilometer-long uphill battle that we did. Unlike us, they lacked the element of surprise, they lacked night vision, most of them lacked body armor, and they faced a much more competent foe.

  On the other hand, there were less than forty of us that weren’t preoccupied setting the charges. Hundreds of Jihan’s slave soldiers were on their way from the mines, and more could come from town at any time since the Montalbans had not begun their diversion for some reason.

  It wasn’t looking good. Skunky joined me on the line, and he seemed to read my mind. “Having second thoughts?”

  “Honestly?” I began, as I took up a position behind the armored personnel carrier. “I kind of am. I’m beginning to think this may have been a poor life choice.” I cracked a smile, and my friend laughed.

  The levity was forced. Beneath it, I was grappling with the growing realization that I was probably going to die in this Godforsaken place. Everything I’d managed to survive, from Mexico, to Zubara, to North Gap, and look what I’d gotten myself into: outnumbered with no hope of rescue on the ass-end of the world, fighting somebody else’s damned war. I swear to God, it’s the story of my life.

  I looked over at Ling. She briefly smiled at me, then returned her attention to what she was doing. My bitterness faded. I’d come here for her. I’d had nothing to live for, so I’d gone along to help somebody who did.

  The cloud cover had been thinning all night. The moon was now high in the sky, and pale gray light poured over the land and reflected brightly off the snow. Even without my lost night vision goggles, it was easy to see a long way through the darkness. What I could see wasn’t comforting. At the bottom of the hill, turning onto the road the led to the dam, was a long line of vehicles carrying Sala Jihan’s soldiers. Their headlights pierced the darkness in front of them as they rounded the corner and started up the hill in a single column.

  I zoomed my rifle’s scope in to maximum magnification and clicked the elevation knob up to 800 meters. Our best bet was to pour fire on the advancing forces as they climbed the hill. They were vulnerable and we could make them pay for every inch of ground they covered. I was glad that I’d brought a lot of ammo.

  The BTR-70 opened fire first with its turret-mounted 14.5mm machine gun. The weapon’s roar would have been deafening if not for my hearing protection, and even so it was loud as hell. Tracers speared out into the night, peppering the convoy from a range of nearly a thousand meters. The machine guns mounted on the trucks opened up next, followed by a few crew-served machine guns manned by Exodus troops. The symphony of automatic weapons fire pulsed in my chest with each shot as the Calm enveloped me in its cool, leveling embrace.

  If I was to die here, then so be it. I looked over at Skunky, who was holding fire. His SIG 551 was equipped with an Aimpoint, not ideal for long-range shooting. He shook his head slightly at me, smiling in the darkness. “You’re kind of scary when you’re in the zone like that, you know that, brother?” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the cacophony of gunfire.

  Tracers were zipping up at us from the hill now. Sala Jihan’s forces were returning fire. PING! DING! Incoming fire ricocheted off the armored hull of the BTR-70. PING! BING!

  I set my scope’s reticle on a set of headlights midway through the convoy and squeezed the trigger. My rifle recoiled over and over again as I cracked off an entire magazine.
“Reloading!”

  “I’ve got you covered!” Ling said. She leaned around the front of the BTR and fired off several short bursts from her carbine. Bullets buzzed overhead. They were shooting back at us, but inaccurately so far.

  “I wish I had my M14!” Skunky said, firing over the rear of the armored personnel carrier. An RPG rocket streaked down from our position, detonating as it impacted a vehicle in the convoy. The truck rolled to a stop and was quickly enveloped in flames. Burning men jumped out of the back and rolled in the snow, trying to extinguish themselves. My active hearing protection allowed me to hear their agonizing screams between bursts of machine gun fire from the BTR. The convoy didn’t stop. Not a single vehicle, other than the ones we immobilized, stopped. No one got out to aid the wounded or recover the dead. They hardly even slowed down.

  “Keep firing!” Ling shouted. “Kill as many of them on the road as possible!” Sala Jihan’s forces continued their relentless push. Several of their vehicles had been disabled or destroyed, but the rest drove around them. Troops dismounted and began to run up the hill at us, screaming like madmen the whole while. The enemy’s incoming fire was taking its toll on our defensive position now. One of the trucks with a 14.5mm machine gun mounted on it was shot to pieces. RPGs streaked up and down the hill.

  Struggling to overcome the chaos, I fired shot after shot, magazine after magazine, as rapidly as I could accurately manage. My rifle was hot to the touch. The enemy convoy was almost on top of us. Two vehicles, beat-up old cars, swerved out of the line and sped around the others. They accelerated up the hill toward our position. The gunner in the BTR-70 turned his attention to it, pouring fire into the car. Riddled with huge holes and burning, it veered off into the snow bank and exploded. The concussion from the blast rattled us all.