The gunfire continued in sporadic fits as he was bandaging Freddie. He spotted Dranko swapping mags, still in the same position. He fast crawled to his side.
“Got Freddie patched up. He’ll keep,” Cooper apprised him.
“I got one more. Someone who popped up a little too much for his own good health! I think we got at least six still spread out among those cars at the overpass’ edge and one sniper up in those houses we saw before the jump-off,” Dranko relayed, rapid fire. Cooper’s mind raced. He swapped a fresh mag into his FAL. He slid to the edge of their cover and caught a quick glance at their enemy’s position.
“You still got that grenade?” he asked.
Dranko padded his vest pocket as an answer, a grin growing on his face, “What do you have in mind?”
“Use our one advantage, the magic of suppressing fire against untrained men. Get on the radio and call Calvin up here.”
“He’s already on his way. Angela told me. As soon as the bullets started flying, he was moving our way.”
Cooper’s eyebrows drew together, “Really? Impressive. Takes a lot of cajones for a civvie to move toward gunfire!”
Dranko nodded in exaggerated agreement.
“Hey,” Calvin called to them from behind a beige sedan, waving his arm to be seen.
Cooper motioned him forward and he crawled to where they were.
“Thanks for joining the party,” Cooper exclaimed.
Calvin was out of breath, panting, and sweat cascaded down his bald head, “Came… as… soon… as I… could!”
“Here’s what we are going to do. You and Dranko will put down suppressing fire on the line of vehicles where our friends are hiding and waiting to kill us. Suppressing fire means you fire as fast as you can in the general direction of the bad guys. Don’t waste time aiming. We just want their heads down. Got it?”
Calvin nodded, still breathing deeply to refill his winded lungs. “What… are you…”
Cooper saved him the effort, “I’m going to work my way to range where I can use this!” He opened his palm to reveal the olive drab grenade. Calvin’s eyes opened wide in surprise. Slowly, a thin smile crept across his face.
“Calvin, we will fire in tandem. I’ll empty a mag, and while I’m reloading, you fire,” Dranko instructed.
Cooper punched the call button on his walkie talkie, “Angela, I need you to keep the sniper’s head down once you hear Dranko firing again. Read me? Out.”
A moment later, his radio cackled, “Read you. Out.”
Cooper looked at Dranko and Calvin, “Ready?”
Cooper crouched. He breathed deeply several times, filling his lungs as fully as possible. He caught Dranko’s eye; he was positioned at the front of the vehicle they were hidden behind. Cooper raised himself onto his haunches and pivoted so he could run out from behind the vehicle and make his way to the enemy position.
As he turned, time slowed. Dranko’s rifle swung into position toward the enemy. Flame spat from his barrel as he fired at them. Dranko’s face was tight, eyes squinted, jaw clenched, and nostrils flaring. Then, bits of blue flannel erupted from his chest as bullets struck him. His eyes went wide, calling out in shock. Dranko abruptly sat down, thudding into the asphalt. The last thing Cooper saw was Calvin taking Dranko’s position and his rifle coming to bear.
Cooper’s mind cried out to go to his friend’s aid, but he was already in motion. It had all happened too fast. Cooper duck-ran to the nearest car, which was a silver sports car. He heard the rapid fire of Calvin’s M4 raking the enemy’s position. Cooper didn’t hesitate and ran head-long toward a white panel van. He took the risk, knowing that with Dranko down, it would be tougher to keep their opponents under cover long enough for him to get within range.
Silence descended upon the overpass as if a pair of earmuffs had suddenly been slapped onto his ears. Cooper could hear his own breath and it sounded like a jet engine sucking air into a vortex. Calvin must be reloading. He knew it would take several seconds for someone untrained under the stress of combat. Fine motor skills go first and fast when your adrenaline is pumping. The seconds ticking by seemed like an eternity. What he heard next made his blood chill.
A loud boom from the enemy’s line. Then another. And another. Damn! They’re back into action. Will be tougher to get them back into cover a second time. And, I hope they don’t get Calvin!
The harsh staccato from Calvin’s position began again. Cooper knew this was his best chance. He ran from out behind the van and sprinted headlong. He skipped taking cover. He knew he couldn’t count on getting through another reload by Calvin. As he passed the inviting cover of a burned out sedan, his body cried out for him to take advantage; like it used to plead for nicotine when he’d quit smoking after Jake was born. He kept going.
A bullet smacked into the asphalt a few yards behind him. He flinched, swinging his arm up in futile defense. They see me now. Just ten more yards! Calvin’s firing ended abruptly as his magazine must have run dry. Bullets whistled past Cooper and he was instinctively ducking and waving his free hand about him; as if brushing off an attack of angry flies. Sweat stung his eyes, his stomach was doing somersaults, and his loins were desperately trying to crawl back inside. His FAL jerked hard in his hands and he almost dropped it. A splinter of wood dug into his thigh and he momentarily winced. Damn! A bullet hit the stock!
Cooper slid behind the safety of the last car between him and where their enemies were strung out. He took a careful minute readying himself and checked the magazine on his rifle, ensuring the safety was off. He pulled the grenade from his pocket and hefted it in his hands. He knew he only had one chance to get it right. The explosive encased in cold metal was comforting in his hand. He kissed it for good luck, pivoted, and threw it over the car’s roof and hoped to God it landed for good effect. He crouched once more and waited for the interminable seconds to pass.
Boom! Concussion pushed past him. Sharp cries of agony rose to the sky, chasing the deadly shrapnel’s wake. Cooper didn’t hesitate. He rose up and surveyed the enemy’s line. The grenade had gone off nearly in the middle of it. He saw no one else visible. He ran quickly to his right, toward the far end of the overpass and reached it without return fire. Feeling like a soldier from the Great War jumping into the enemy’s trench, he crossed in between the small gap between the last car in their barricade and the overpass’ steel girder.
As he did so, he swung his rifle barrel and trained it to his left. Barely ten feet away, someone was curled up into a ball, rocking back and forth. Stick legs in black pants were scrunched up against the person’s chest. Cooper’s trigger finger squeezed twice before he could even process what he was seeing. Puffs of down fluttered through the air as the bullets ripped through the other person’s chest. The body toppled and fell onto its side. Cooper had kept moving; his eyes quickly looking further down the barricade’s line.
Toward the middle, he saw two bodies sprawled out. One was lying face down in a pool of blood. The other must have been very close to the grenade’s blast. A bloody stump adorned the body while a severed arm was lying off to the side. The man’s eyes stared serenely skyward. Cooper inadvertently marveled at the destructive power packed inside something that could be held in one hand. Then, jerky movement at the other end of the line of cars caught his eyes. Arms were thrust into the sky.