“They wrecked out,” Jones yelled.
“Contact front,” Boz yelled over the radio as they came under fire.
“Damn it,” Colonel Barnes yelled, punching the back of the seat in anger, and Scottie slid the sedan to a halt.
Boz still had the talk button depressed, and everyone in the car could hear the staccato chatter of a rifle firing inside the van. Villa’s muffled voice was yelling Hoyt’s name. Then the radio went dead.
Colonel Barnes was out of the car before it stopped. His rifle came to his shoulder as Harden threw the car’s door open and followed him. He could see smoke drifting from the engine compartment of the van, the twisted rebar poking out of the smashed wall as he ran. Barnes knew an errant round could set the bomb off, but he still harbored an ember of hope that they could make it to the target.
The driver’s-side door cracked open. Boz leaned out of his seat, dazed, and pushed it all the way open. He tumbled to the ground but remained in control of his rifle, which he began firing from his side.
Shots rang out from inside the van, followed by a muzzle striking the windshield, as Villa tried to get a better view of his attackers. Harden sprinted to catch up with the colonel, who went straight to the back doors of the van and pulled them open.
The cargo compartment was covered in blood. Barnes stepped up onto the bumper and saw that Hoyt was on his back, bleeding heavily from his chest. He ignored the man and checked the bomb’s components as his soldier weakly raised his hand for help.
Villa wedged himself through the narrow space between the two front seats and jumped into the back of the van. His foot slipped on the bloody metal floor, causing him to bang his knee as he tried to open the sliding door.
“Help him,” he yelled at the colonel, who refused to look up from the bomb.
Cursing, Villa grabbed the handle and slid the door open before grabbing Hoyt by his drag strap. His rifle bumped against his groin as he carefully lifted Hoyt’s upper body out of the van. The heels of the man’s boots hit the pavement with a thump, and Villa dragged him around to the back of the van, where Harden was yelling at his boss.
“Get out of there. We have to go,” Harden ordered, but Villa gently laid his teammate on the ground and ripped the first aid pouch from his kit.
Harden could see the pale edges of Hoyt’s femur poking out of his pant leg as Villa pressed down hard on his chest. Blood squirted from beneath his palm from the pressure on the wound.
“I need some gauze,” Villa yelled as the colonel reached out of the van and slammed the doors shut.
“What the fuck is he doing?” Jones demanded breathlessly, running to the side of his fallen comrade.
“Forget about him. Focus on Hoyt,” Villa said as Harden dumped the blowout kit on the pavement and began rummaging through the medical supplies.
“Move your arms,” Jones said, pulling out his knife and cutting the plate carrier straps off Hoyt’s shoulders. As soon as he pulled it clear, he could see the uneven rise of the man’s chest, which was indicative of a collapsed lung.
As they fought to control the bleeding, the ragged sound of Barnes trying to start the mangled engine crept over the gunfire.
“Help me roll him over,” Jones said as the colonel fought to get the van started.
“I can’t find an exit wound,” Villa yelled.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harden could see Scottie shooting over the hood of the car. He grabbed a plastic tube off the ground and expertly pulled out a long, thin needle. Using his fingers, he worked his way down from the chest bone, probing for the intercostal space between the ribs before deftly inserting the needle into the chest cavity. He was trying to relieve the pressure in the man’s lungs, but he knew it was hopeless.
Barnes had abandoned trying to get the van started and suddenly appeared on the right side of the van.
“Leave him, he’s dead,” he ordered harshly.
The men ignored him and continued working to save their teammate’s life. Barnes brought his rifle up in a smooth motion and fired a single round over Villa’s shoulder and into Hoyt’s forehead. Harden scrambled backward at the sudden gunshot and reached for his weapon. Villa stared at the small hole in his friend’s forehead, trying to figure out what had happened, and Barnes grabbed his shoulder and pushed him out of the way.
A deathly silence fell over the small group as the realization of what had just occurred sank in. Barnes lowered his rifle and calmly said, “Get up, the mission’s not over.”
Mason pushed Renee to the ground as the KPV pummeled the car, blowing holes the size of a fist in the thin metal. The gunner walked his fire down the side of the car before pausing to inspect the damage, and Renee fought to reload the RPG launcher.
Tarek and Zeus were huddled near the rear of one of the disabled pickups. While Zeus was trying to get Mason’s attention, Tarek engaged the technical with the SAW. The Libyan tried to pull his countryman to safety, but Tarek brushed him off and darted from cover.
Laying the light machine gun over the hood, he fired off two long bursts at the gunner and knocked him off the gun.
Mason heard him yell in triumph and was stepping out to see what had happened when he heard the sound of a heavy impact to his rear, followed by automatic fire. Renee felt Mason’s grip on her shoulder loosen and finally got another rocket into the launcher.
Zeus sprinted toward Mason in a crouch as Renee got to her feet and moved to a better position. Taking her time, she lined up the shot and closed her finger around the trigger. Mason jerked his head in her direction. The rocket leapt from the launcher and rushed toward the technical. Another rebel was just getting the gun back into action when the RPG slammed into the wheel well and flipped the truck into the air.
Renee yelled in triumph and turned toward Mason with a huge smile on her face. Mason was looking back toward the front of their position with an ashen expression. She knew immediately that something was wrong. Ditching the launcher, she looked between the open space of the two vehicles to see Tarek sprawled in the open in a pool of his own blood.
Huge chunks had been taken out of his chest and part of his head was missing. Somehow, his hand was still clutching the mangled SAW.
Mason started toward his dead friend, but Zeus grabbed his arm. Renee watched the American try to fight him off.
“Get the fuck off me,” Mason yelled.
Zeus yelled back at him, but Renee couldn’t make out what he was saying over a sudden upswell in rifle fire. She could see the Libyan pushing Mason back toward the rear of the trucks when an explosion went off to her six o’clock.
“Mason,” she yelled as rounds began pouring in from the rear. She managed to find cover just as a neat row of holes appeared along the wall she’d just been standing next to.
The American saw her go to the ground and ran toward the rear of the mangled convoy. His heart beat heavily as he broke free from Zeus and ran over to her.
The Hezbollah commander, Abdul, was firing over the bed of the truck. Mason dropped to Renee’s side.
“They are behind us,” she yelled, but he ignored her and checked to make sure she was okay.
“You need to stay down,” he yelled.
“We have to get out of here,” she said as another salvo thumped into the truck they were using as cover.
Mason conducted a mag change, and Zeus took a position next to Abdul. The Libyan fired off four shots before his rifle went down. Mason moved to cover his friend.