The Javelin achieved missile lock. I pressed the firing stud. The missile’s expelling charge caused it to belch out of the launcher. A fraction of a second later the rocket motors ignited, sending the missile roaring up into the night sky on a column of smoke. It took the missile a few seconds to arc through the sky. It came screaming down, slamming into the boat from above and detonating. The hull was ripped in half in a flash of light.
My comrades on the dock stood up and cheered, holding their weapons in the air while the sinking boat burned. For my part, I simply dropped the Javelin launcher and exhaled heavily, taking stock. Fillmore was already gone. My pant legs were coated in the blood of my dead teammates. The patrol boat’s strafing run had killed several of us, and the screaming told me others were wounded. Thunder rumbled overhead again, and the rain began. Within moments it was pouring.
Seconds later something shrieked overhead and detonated inside the compound. Then there was another, then another. The ground rumbled as mortars struck the armory and the admin building. My heart dropped into my stomach. Sarah!
“Val, where are you going?” Tailor shouted as I took off at a run.
“I have to find Sarah!” I said, not looking back.
LORENZO
The big lump of meat, Conrad, let go of me, and I sank to the ground, retching. Walker didn’t just snap my finger bones, he broke them slowly, grinding away, joint on joint, until he was sure he’d hit every nerve bundle. He was a fucking artist.
“Two down, three to go,” Walker said. “And I’m just getting warmed up on this one. This is going to be a long night. You really shouldn’t have come here. You’re my bitch now.”
“No shit,” I gasped. I had no weapons. They’d searched me, disarmed me, and I was already hurt and handcuffed to a wall. Options were limited. There was no room for error. I had to kill both of these men. I felt around the wall behind me. This place is old and crumbling. There has to be something I can use. There.
“Ready for the next one, Stan?” Walker asked.
Conrad shrugged and started in. “Sure, but I don’t get off on this like you do.” He grabbed me around the back of the neck and dragged me up the wall, loose brick scraping my back. He slugged me in the stomach again, hammering the tissue that had already been pulverized by a stopped bullet. It hurt so bad that I just wanted to curl up into a ball and die, but that’s why I did all of those damned sit-ups. I took it. I had to let them think I was helpless, but I still had one hand free, and I clutched the chunk of brick tight.
There was a burst of noise from outside. Walker and Conrad glanced at each other. “Gunfire? Who’s shooting?” Walker queried. My hearing was still all buggered up. I had no idea. “Check it out,” he snapped. Conrad let go of me. This was my chance. I slid to floor, limp, gagging, as if that last punch had leveled me.
“Okay,” Conrad said, jogged toward the exit. I waited until the door closed.
But Walker wasn’t stupid. He’d stepped out of arms’ reach to wait for his backup. Chicken shit.
I crawled to my knees. I had to make this count. “Wait? You hear that?” I gasped, looking toward the door.
Unconsciously, he turned. “Wha—” But was cut off as I hurled the brick as hard as I could. His glasses flew off and he stumbled back, hands clutched to his face, screeching in pain, one eye obliterated. I scrambled for him, but the cuff chain snapped tight, just short, just out of arm’s reach. Shit!
“Help!” Walker, blinded, was tripping, stumbling, but getting farther away. “Conrad! Help!” he cried.
His aviator shades were at my feet. I snatched them up, ripping them apart, knocking the remaining lens out. I bent the wire spine straight and went to work on the cuffs. Men like me have an instinctive fear of being in handcuffs, so I had practiced this a few hundred times. I could pick a handcuff with a toothpick. “Maybe Big Boss will lend you an eye patch, asshole!”
The door flew open and Conrad ran back in, shouting, “We’re under attack! It’s the army.” Then he collided with his bleeding friend. “What the hell?”
“My eye!” Walker screamed. “He put out my eye!”
The cuff clicked loose and I ripped my damaged hand out, leaving a lot of skin behind. I crossed the cell, reaching up and swatting the lone light bulb, shattering it and plunging us all into darkness. They never saw me coming.
I kicked Conrad’s ankle out from under him. The bone splintered and he toppled down to my level, where I ridge-handed him brutally in the throat. Conrad choked, gagging, still confused as to how I got all the way over here. I grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face into my knee, knocking half his teeth out. He was down.
Walker was groping about, searching for his gun. They’d left them on the table by the door. He found the table just as I found him. My arm slid around his throat, injured left hand putting pressure on the side of his head as I cranked back, taking us both to the ground. He thrashed, kicked, elbowed me in the side, but once I’d cut the flow of oxygen off to his brain, he was out in ten seconds. The elbow hits got weaker and weaker, then finally stopped. When I was convinced the struggle was over, I rolled his unconscious form off.
Gasping, I struggled to my feet. There were flashes of light coming through the narrow windows. A high-pitched whistle terminated in a explosion against one of the walls. The compound was under attack. I had to get the hell out of here. I ran my good hand over the dark table until I found what I’d come here for. The box went into one pants pocket, radio into the other. I kept Walker’s gun.
The two men were groaning, stirring. I could have just put a bullet into both of them, but I might need the ammo. I booted Conrad in the head once more to be safe, then rolled Walker over, stripping him of two spare magazines. Blood flow restored, the man was starting to come to.
Being an asshole, I just couldn’t help myself. Squatting down, I grabbed all the fingers on Walker’s right hand. “Wake up.” Then I cranked them back so brutally hard that they touched his wrist, breaking every one of them so fiercely that the skin of his palm split open. He sat up, screaming, so I smashed him in the face with his own gun.
It was time to go.
VALENTINE
Fort Saradia was in utter chaos as mortars rained down on us. I left the relative safety of the stone archway that led to the docks and ran into the open, desperate to find Sarah. She was probably either in the admin building or the old brig, where theytaken Lorenzo.
The admin building was easier to get to, and it was where Hunter’s office was, so I started there. Hearing the screams of more incoming shells, I huddled by the wall of the closest building and covered my head. Two big military trucks, wearing Zubaran Army markings, were parked by the north wall of the supply building. Those trucks had been sitting in the compound since day one, but we hadn’t used them. I hoped they’d protect me from fragmentation.
Five more mortars exploded in the compound. The first one didn’t hit anything. The second struck the admin building. The third hit the dormitory building and destroyed several rooms on the top floor. The fourth hit the big gas tank directly west of my position. Hot wind blew across my back as the fuel tank erupted in a huge fireball and burned. I didn’t see where the last mortar hit, but it was close. The barrage ended. An assault was coming, and we were undoubtedly outnumbered. Through the torrential downpour, I saw the survivors from the docks running back into the compound, toward my position, as they prepared to make a stand.