Furious, he took an RPG from one of his men and strode down the north wall toward the battle.
He saw the tan Jeep crash through the back gate. And he saw the blond man shooting at his soldiers, easily taking out three on the far wall. His four prisoners were running toward the Jeep.
“Time to finish this,” he said.
Taking up a position with his elbows propped on the wall, he pressed his eye to the scope and aimed at the Jeep.
The woman glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Toli on the wall. She yelled something at the others and jumped out of the vehicle as he pulled the trigger.
A moment later, the Jeep exploded in a searing hot orange flame. In seconds it was ablaze, sending plumes of black smoke into the sky.
Toli stood up and handed the weapon to a young soldier standing beside him. He tightened his beret and stalked toward the stairs leading down into the courtyard.
The ground crunched under his boots as he walked past the dead. He’d lost at least thirty men in the battle. Some of them had fallen on top of each other as they ran recklessly into the storm of bullets pounding their ranks.
Now the courtyard had fallen into an eerie peace. The blazing Jeep crackled, the only disruption in the otherwise quiet space.
The remainder of Toli’s forces gathered around him as he approached the burning vehicle. The woman was on the ground, face down, clawing at the dirt in an effort to stand up. The blond man who’d accompanied her was prostrate on the ground. A thin stream of blood oozed from a cut in his neck, likely a wound from the explosion.
Toli’s four prisoners had been charging to the Jeep when it blew. Three of them were rolling around, grasping at various wounds. One lay still on his back, staring up at the sky with blank, lifeless eyes.
The warlord shook his head and put his hands on his hips. He stared at the carnage for long moment as if not believing they’d tried something so stupid. He shouted at Fletch.
“You see what happens? Huh? Now another of your men is dead! And I have two more prisoners!”
Fletch didn’t respond. He was clutching his ears in an effort to stop the ringing. He looked over and saw Alberto wincing in pain. Mueller was squeezing his shoulder to slow the blood from a fresh wound. But Tevin didn’t move.
Before Fletch could bring a word to his lips, Toli barked at his troops. “Round them up over there!” He pointed at an area near the wall, thirty feet from the newly destroyed rear gate. “Line them up.”
His soldiers gathered the Americans and dragged them over to the spot Toli had indicated. Two of them picked up Tevin’s body under the armpits and pulled him to the wall before dumping him in a heap.
“Put them on their knees,” Toli commanded. He turned to the boy next to him and told him to retrieve the camera. The kid ran off to one of the buildings near the north wall and disappeared through a doorway.
By the time he returned, the five American prisoners were on their knees, facing the courtyard. The blond man winced and looked up at the warlord. The woman said nothing but was equally as defiant.
“We won’t kill her,” Toli said, pointing at the woman. He looked at his second in command, a tall, muscular man with a matching set of fatigues. “We could use her, huh?”
The man bellowed a deep laugh. His head rocked back and forth.
She sniffled air through her nose but said nothing, showing no fear.
The boy finished setting up the camera and stepped away. Toli moved over to it and hit the red button on the back.
“As you can see, America, this is what happens when you meddle with affairs that are not your own. We have your soldiers. We have your women. You dare to challenge my strength? I am here on a divine mission!”
Toli stepped in front of the camera and raised his arms to the sky. About forty of his soldiers had gathered around the scene. When their leader put his hands up, they all started shouting in celebration. Then he lowered them and signaled for silence.
He stared into the camera. “You can see one of your soldiers is already dead. But I can assure you, the fate that awaits the others is far worse than death. I have an arsenal of bioweapons that will kill millions unless my demands are met. I was going to use one of those warheads on these men here.” He put his hand back, displaying the four male prisoners. “But I think I will just kill them instead and choose one of your cities to be my proving ground.”
Toli pulled the pistol out of his holster and walked over to Fletch. The American leader was still grimacing from the ringing in his ears and the pain in his ribs. The warlord pressed the pistol to the side of his head and tensed his finger on the trigger.
“This man is an American soldier. Witness my power.”
A truck horn honked at the front gate.
Toli’s head snapped to the side, his face furious with indignation.
“Another delivery, sir,” his second in command offered.
The anger left Toli’s face, and he motioned for the gate to be opened. He stepped away from Fletch and back toward the camera. “I’ll be right back.” He glanced at the camera. “We can always edit it later, right?” He laughed at his own joke. Some of his men joined in the laughter albeit slightly uneasy as to whether they should or not.
The gate swung open, and the transport truck rumbled through. Toli’s men parted to let him through as he strode into the open courtyard. He waved at the truck and grinned.
The truck’s driver shifted into a higher gear, and the engine groaned as he stepped on the accelerator. Toli’s eyes narrowed, trying to see through the windshield.
Suddenly, the driver’s door opened and the driver fell out, tumbling and rolling to a stop on the ground. The truck was bearing down on Toli at a dangerous speed, but the leader was frozen at the sight. He wasn’t sure whether to run left or right. Black exhaust poured from the smokestack behind the driver’s door as the truck barreled toward Toli.
At the last second, the rebel leader tried to jolt to his left, but the truck lurched that way and smacked into him. Toli fell under the front tire and was finished off by the rear a split second later, his body crushed under the heavy truck.
His soldiers stood motionless, paralyzed by what they’d just seen. In the next instant, their paralysis was broken. The truck’s new driver — a stout man slightly under six feet tall with short brown hair — jumped out with a pistol in each hand. He opened fire on the crowd of soldiers who suddenly scattered like cockroaches in lamplight.
Some of them were struck by bullets and fell to the ground. Another man joined the fray from the back of the truck and opened fire with an assault rifle.
The American prisoners seized the moment and sprang into action.
Calling on every ounce of strength he had left, Fletch launched at Toli’s second in command and tackled him. The rebel reached for his sidearm, but Fletch got to it first. He pressed the muzzle into the man’s ribcage and fired three times. The rebel’s massive hands reached up to choke Fletch, but as the bullets ripped through his torso and into his vital organs, his fingers weakened and he fell limp to the ground.
Sean charged at the nearest rebel soldier — a guy who looked like he was probably fifteen. Sean’s fists were raised, but before he could strike, the boy dropped his weapon and ran. Sean stopped and watched as the kid disappeared through the destroyed rear gate. Emily stood up and joined him as more and more of Toli’s soldiers dropped their weapons and ran through any exit they could find, fleeing the compound.
The two men from the truck ceased fire and lowered their weapons. The brown-haired one sauntered over to the others.
He spoke in a dry tone. “You know, one of these days I’m guessing you’re going to have to bail me out of something.”