“We should talk to them. I know Americans, and they would not have done this.” Shenjung tugged at his sleeve, but Yang pulled his arm free.
“You know nothing. American war games are both physical and psychological.”
“War games?” Shenjung shook his head. “No, you are the one making war. I must warn you, I will be compelled to report any… crimes.”
Yang studied the man for several seconds, seeing the waver of fear in his eyes. He leaned in close to his face.
“Comrade Shenjung, you are not at home in your comfortable office anymore. Down here, all authority resides with me. Down here I am both law and punishment. For them, and you. Conceal yourself; that is an order.” He pushed the man into the undergrowth.
Yang then walked to stand in the center of a flattened area of the jungle, with his back turned to the trail. He would be the bait at the end of a fifty-foot killing zone.
He concentrated — the silence in this strange world was unnerving, but now, it meant the slightest sound was magnified. The Americans were coming, close now. He smiled, unholstered his gun, stuck it in his belt, and then unzipped his fly. He waited a few moments until they were there, and began to urinate, slowly, making the stream last. He began to sing softly.
Rinofsky saw that Hagel had stopped, holding up a fist. He and the group halted, and waited as Hagel then turned to lift a single finger, and then waved them down.
The group crouched low and only Casey Franks eased up to join him. Hagel remained silent, just using two fingers to point at his eyes and then into the jungle at about ten o’clock. Casey followed his prompt, and then nodded, and then turned to point at Big Ben Jackson and Rhino and then out to two o’clock. She then sent Hagel and Blake out to nine.
Rhino and Jackson were first into position, staring at the PLA soldier ahead. Jackson leaned in close to Rhino.
“That’s horrible,” he whispered.
“Keep it down.” Rinofsky scowled, but then spoke out of the side of his mouth, leaving his eyes on the target. “So where’ve you been pissing; in your water bottle?”
Jackson grinned. “I meant his voice, it’s horrible.”
Rinofsky groaned and put a finger to his lips. At the end of a small clearing, the Chinese soldier was standing by himself, taking a casual piss as if he was in his own bathroom. A soft tune lifted from him, as he seemed to be enjoying his ablutions.
“Stay here… and stay alert.” Rhino moved along the brush line, and then waited. Across from him, he saw Blake appear, and nod to him, and then hold up a hand. Blake pointed to the other end of the clearing. Casey Franks had stepped out, gun cradled in her arms as she watched the soldier finish up.
Casey stood slightly side-on, legs planted. “Hey,” she said.
The man kept singing, and then jiggled a bit as if he was hiking up his zipper.
“Hey, water boy.” Casey kept her eyes directly on him. “Turn around, real slow.”
The man did neither. Casey half turned. “Blake, tell this guy to drop his cock, and turn around. Tell him that we’re friends, or some other bullshit.”
Blake talked softly, his voice carrying easily in the stillness. He was halfway through speaking when the soldier began to turn. In his hand was something other than his penis.
The small gun spat twice, and then the trees started to rain soldiers. From the canopy overhead, PLA Special Forces dropped down around them. Big Ben Jackson turned, and though he was a formidable soldier, he faced a man even taller than he. The big broad face creased in a gap-toothed grin, and then a leg as thick as a tree trunk shot out in a pile driver blow to strike him in the chest and fling him back into the trees.
Rhino moved to engage. The big HAWC and the bigger Chinese soldier traded rapid blows, and each blocked many. The huge HAWC was far superior to Jackson, and let fly with a single lunge punch that sounded like a mallet on clay. The Chinese giant staggered, but shook a head the size of a watermelon and then gap-grinned again.
He came at Rhino in a spin, a person that big having no right to be so quick and nimble. Rhino blocked the first kick, but a backhanded blow was already rounding on him. The fist that connected with his temple was the size of a dinner plate, and his oversized hands had calluses that were rock hard across the knuckles and palm edges.
Rhino went down on one knee, his head swimming. No one had ever hit him that hard in his life. He knew he was as good as dead. Once you lost focus in combat, for even a split second, the killing blow soon came. In the seconds between consciousness and oblivion, he remembered what Hammerson had said to him when he was recruited — HAWCs didn’t die of old age. Rhino now knew; HAWCs died like this.
CHAPTER 45
The first bullet punched into Casey’s right pectoral, spinning her and making the second one miss. In her armored suit, she knew only a head-shot could have been counted on to take her down for good. As it was, the impact would deaden her shoulder, but she ignored it as she had long learned to live with pain.
She rolled and came up fast, seeing Blake and Rhino engaging in combat, and the big McMurdo soldier, Jackson, already on the ground and struggling to breathe. The PLA seemed to be appearing from everywhere, and she had walked them right into it. Fucking amateur hour, she thought.
Her HAWCs she wasn’t worried about, but she knew she had left Aimee and Soong without cover. The pissing soldier who had shot her was coming at her fast. He was big, with eyes that were black as coal. There was no hint of anything other than determination to finish her off.
“Fuck you.” She spun, sweeping one of her legs around, taking him off his feet, and sending his gun flying. A punch to her ear suddenly told her that she wasn’t fighting just one man. She dived and rolled and came up in front of the first PLA soldier, who was now back on his feet. He was half a head taller, and trained to solid muscle.
She backed to the side, trying to keep both of her attackers in view. Casey excelled at unarmed combat, and in a number of different disciplines, all blended into a style created just for the HAWCs, termed RADET — Rapid Debilitation Technique. Most maneuvers were lethal, and she had been trained for fighting multiple opponents.
But for each kick or punch she and her combatants threw, the other would block it, and would in turn direct ever more furious punches, strikes, and kicks back towards the other. Casey gritted her teeth, becoming ever more infuriated. Unwaveringly, the two soldiers betrayed nothing — no surprise, fear, pain — they never grunted, made a noise, or changed their expression. It was like she fought robots.
Seems they’ve picked up their training, she thought. Though her focus was supreme, she became aware of a whistle, and then it was like the combat changed up a level. The PLA to her left kicked out, pushing her back. She blocked it, but immediately felt a jarring impact to her spine. The blow wasn’t meant to do anything other than knock her forward again into the flying boot of the first guy.
Casey saw stars, her head swimming for a few seconds, before she came up with a blade in her hand, blinking away watering eyes and a streaming bloody nose.
When her world cleared, she found she was alone. Her opponents had left the field. Jackson was rubbing his neck and helping a groggy Rhino to his feet. Blake was walking back towards her, also wiping blood from his lip.
“They’re gone. There was whistle, and they just vanished.”