Chapter 13

Outgunned

With deliberate caution, they made their ways back to the command room. Vektar choked, “Smells even worse then it did before. Whoever created this God-forsaken room should at least have included air conditioning, and an air freshener. Preferably pine.”

 He has a point, and this point is choking. I’m even sorry for calling him green, especially as I smell what the rank actually turned into, Gustav thought amidst coughing fits.

“Looks like they’ve got the cameras back and working, ah, did anyone order a small fleet of Chinook transports? We have two of them on an inbound landing course. Has this compound got any other things than cameras working?” Dafs inquired.

“Negative, we have no way of stopping them from getting through. They can land, and we’ll have to fight for our lives,” Nakejama quickly looked at the datascreens and working systems, “We have no offensive or defensive power, except for our wits.”

“Well, anyone had the foresight, other then me, to bring any weapons?” Dafs choked, fearing the answer.

They all looked embarrassed and glanced at the floor. “We didn’t see the need,” Eugene toned.

“Damn it you guys, we’ve got to move quickly to the storeroom, and hope the weapons haven’t been confiscated from there. If they have, then one pump action shotgun and two pistols will have to suffice in protecting our asses. And if they fail,” Dafs muttered, sensing an unasked question, “we’re screwed.”

 Great preparation , Gustav thought sarcastically,  at least one person had the brains to bring weaponry. Moronic idiots.

“Quit thinking like a pessimist, otherwise this will be our tomb. It’s written all on your face, so, get rid of it! We don’t need anyone being pessimistic, otherwise we have no chance in getting out of here. Unless you want that to happen!!” Dafs growled.

“I can’t help it,” Gustav almost pleaded, “you’ve brought yourselves to your deaths, all because of us. And we’ve doomed you”.

“We aren’t doomed until the fat lady stops singing, at the moment she’s doing an encore.”

“I thought the phrase was, ‘We aren’t doomed until the fat lady sings,’.”

“Well, in that case we were doomed since we started this mission!! Yugorovski’s ex-wife is a professional fat singer, and she never stops!!”

“Screwed…”

“If we are Gustav, I blame you and the rest of these morons. You’d better hope we can get through this.”

Moving to the lift their nervousness was starting to show, never had they been so ill prepared, never had so much depended on getting enemy weaponry to survive. The storeroom was just on the next floor.  Everything hangs on the storeroom.

They moved to the storeroom, where they found three MP7s, with nine clips, “Gustav, you take one, Terrik, you take the other, and Eugene, you take the last.” The relief on their faces was obvious, but the ones without weapons still felt vulnerable. “You’ll just have to survive on your wits alone.”

Here at last, here at last. Our last stand, if we win this, we win everything. If we lose, we lose more then just a mission .

Three clips each. If we run out of clips, we’ll have to salvage all we can. We’ll have to salvage what we can anyway. Salvage to win, we rely on wits and borrowed time.

“I just hope a pump-action will be enough to get me what I need. Otherwise our escape will turn into a battle of attrition, one which we surely cannot win.” Dafs turned to the rest, his face accusing, and all showing the guilt. “We shall have to do what we can. Our wits will have to outdo theirs, and the time we gain will have to be enough to make an escape.”

They made it to the entrance, the helicopter being ‘towed’ sixty metres from where they stood. The enemy was guarding the way down, their pistols and machine guns glinting in the midday sun.

Dafs whispered none too enthusiastically, “This is the only way down guys. Load up! Pick your targets and go.”

They crouched, and edged their bodies as close to the wall as they would go, almost slithering like snakes down the ravine. Dafs was in the rear, hanging back so he could pick off those the others couldn’t accurately pinpoint.

He flattened himself as much as possible and brought out a sniper sight out of his pocket. With much care and deliberation he attached it on to make sure all was perfect. By now his friends were caught deep inside the fighting. He crawled to within the maximum effective range, and started to pick them off, one by one.

“Corporal!! Get those fires out NOW! We don’t want to be massacred before we even fight. We’ve got to win. We don’t really want to be slaughtered by six people.”

“Right on it.”

The corporal was the lowest rank guy here. Saying that, he’d had lots of combat experience. Strangely though, he was a pacifist in all but job. He was a small, wiry guy that looked like he’d been in many punch-ups, and had come out in a pretty bad way.

The major guy in this operation was the captain. He was a large guy, so it would be fair to say, major in proportions. Especially when you consider the fact he’s over six foot tall and built like a tank.

“Uh, captain, I think this is the time to evacuate the helicopter. It’s getting worse, and the temperature is getting so hot that its unbearable.” As if to emphasise the point he wiped the sweat off his brow, which only a few seconds later seemed to be glistening a few seconds later. “There is no way we can stay here!!”

“If we fail to secure the helicopters, we’ll have no way of getting out of here.”

“That, I think, was the idea all along.”

“Sabotage?”

“You got that right. Or did you wonder why the fuel was slowly leaking out at thirteen thousand feet?”

“I didn’t actually notice. I was watching anime DVDs in the back.”

“Well, there’s only one way we could save the helicopters, but it would require the sacrifice of one crew member from each. I think that by removing the engines from the frame it would give us time to cool down everything in here. And as I’m the person who came up with this idea, I request to have my memory honoured after I’m gone.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am sir. And I request a transfer from active service. I give you my resignation now; the rest is up to me. It’s up to me to save us. Look after my wife and kids after I’m gone, cap. At least then they wouldn’t be alone.”

“I know you want it to be you. But I’d rather we did this as a team. You still have a lot to live for, your wife still loves you, and I’ll be damned if your kids grow up without a father.”

Up into the engine compartment we went, the aim was to disconnect the engine. Outside there was the clunk of bullets hitting the Chinook transport helicopter. There was also the answering cry of returned fire. A battle was raging outside, and a stray bullet could equal disaster. All a stray bullet would have to do is hit the engine, and there would be a raging inferno inside the helicopter. Then the explosion.

The captain and the corporal carefully rushed up the compartment, until they got to where the engine connected to the bodywork. It was a race against time, but a race in which they had no choice; they were in the casino of Death. Their last gambit was their lives.

They worked as if there was nothing more important or imperative, as if their very being was at stake. Which, to put it bluntly, it was.

Under heavy fire, they managed to dislodge the first one, and, with all their force, ignoring all burns this would cause, we pushed it off, and somehow managed to chuck it a few metres away.

A stray bullet caught it midair, and it exploded with shards of metal flying everywhere. Pretty display if you’re into burning metal. It was painful to hear though;  more painful was the idea that with its destruction there’d be no way home.

The same was done with the other engine, which lasted for a few minutes longer before the inevitable. They sighed. Stranded by a ravine that, by all rights, they should never have been sent to in the first place, life sucked, and when you thought it couldn’t get worse, it sucked more.

The enemy was lesser in number now, Gustav and his friends had managed to kill about fifteen of them. Not many considering that only one helicopter remained. One last Chinook remained; its smoking engines lay derelict on the lower side of the ravine.

Scarred and ridden with bullet-holes, the engines would be a final testament to a battle they just had to win, no other choice. There was no telling what a psychopathic, self-delusional paranoid idiot like Tomicielli would do now they escaped for a second time.

“They’re closing in, damnit!” Terrik screamed, his very sanity being slowly ripped away every moment he was in this fire fight.  This is just like back on Sardinia, only this time I may just have a chance.

They were still pinned down, even though they had made a few spasmodic advances since they started. Terrik aimed low with the mp-7, the helicopter engine smoke obscuring his vision slightly. Through the smoke he thought he saw someone slowly slump. Probably also choked up blood as he went down, and screamed, then gurgled.  Somehow I doubt I hit the head. No matter, he won’t survive that .

He ducked as some return-fire got a bit closer than was comfortable. He looked at the impact holes,  very close together; a semi-automatic pistol fired by a steady hand. Terrik ducked again as they got closer than he’d liked.

Terrik picked out a touch sensitive mine, and set it to ignore the ground. He threw it roughly in the direction of the incoming bullets. Keeping his profile as flat and as hidden as possible, he watched the mine with morbid interest.

It clanked slightly as it hit the ground, and as it came to an undignified stop it armed itself. There was one person within the explosive range, and his eyes flashed from deep shock, to fear, to ‘I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die.’ Scrunching his eyes up he awaited the end with fear. After about ten seconds he opened his eyes, realising he wasn’t going to die. His fear subsided, and he started mocking the person who threw it, “You chucked a dud at me!! Can’t you stupid people have even decent weaponry?”

With a free hand he picked it up, readying himself to throw it. As he picked it up the light turned red, and it bleeped a funeral march, its dying chime. Fearing what would happen the person looked down, and about two seconds later, it exploded.

Where a person once stood was a small crater, mangled remains of his body littered around the battlefield. Inside the range of the blast were three other people in various states of disintegration. Two of them were still moaning and screaming in agony, while the third died as soon as the blast hit. No breathing, no movement, and now, no face, no hands, just charred muscle and bone.

The added smell of a charred carcass and cordite mixed with the smell of burning engine oil made Terrik feel that he was having a fire fight in a slaughterhouse.

Fellow soldiers looked up in shock, before aiming all their weapons squarely at Terrik’s head. Firing started and he managed barely to duck out of the way of the incoming stream. Three bullets embedded themselves in his shoulder. Terrik drew in a painful breath.

From his vantage point he saw one of the people who shot at him get five bullets to the side. The soldier pirouetted around from the force of the bullets. Terrik took a stare at his team, Gustav’s gun was still smoking slightly. The soldier dragged himself up, and shot two bullets at Gustav.

Terrik saw the soldier then being flung backwards by a shotgun bullet burrowing deep into his stomach. About ten metres later he managed to come to a stop. His body twitched, then lay silent, his blood drying where it lay.  Dafs of course, no-one else here would even bother with a pump-action.  As a final death knell he got another shot in his face.

Another got bullets raking across his back. His body went in shock. Quickly he fell down, his eyes full of silent agony. At the corner of Terrik’s eye Terrik saw his ex UN commander Eugene La Salle taking careful aim and striking the incapacitated soldier across his neck, causing immediate death.

Quickly he twisted on his left knee and shot another in the head, the eyeballs rolling to the back of the head. Slumping, the man fell to his stomach, twitched silently, and died.

“I was hoping,” Eugene shouted bitterly, “that my end of service to Yugorovski had put an end to my need to kill. Now, instead of training soldiers to kill, I have to kill just to stay alive.”

“Around us,” Dafs grinned, “you either fight, or you have to run fast.” He shook his head, and sent another shotgun shot into the face of another person, “I’m too big to run fast, so I fight fast.”

Eugene shook his head in wonder, while sending another MP-7 burst into the chest of another assailant, “You really make light of any situation, don’t you? It’s a wonder you can sleep at night.”

Dafs face darkened as if in shadow, his eyes glinting softly, “Sometimes I wonder how I can sleep, but then I remember; it’s either my friends, or those I kill. I kill who I kill not because I want to preserve myself, but because I want to protect my friends.”

He got shot in the leg, and groaned, staggering back a few steps, before setting the gun sight on his shooter. Almost in a mantra, he muttered, “May God have mercy on your soul. Otherwise you’ll go to every hell there ever was.” Seemingly in slow motion, he fired, dodged an incoming bullet, then fired again.

“I have to make light of situations like this, I’m not stable as it is,” Dafs screamed as the person he shot was flung backwards by the shells. “Either I remain my witty, cynical and sarcastic self, or I get destroyed by my past. I don’t aim to be destroyed before I can do something good for humankind, for my friends. I don’t aim to die just yet!!”

Ducking another barrage of incoming bullet Terrik set another mine and hurled it down into the floor of a burning helicopter, and remotely set its timer for 5 seconds. The mine exploded and hurled burning helicopter shrapnel at the people defending.

Out of the corner of his eye, Terrik saw the carnage this caused, the burning metal being sent everywhere, in every direction. One struck the nearest defender in the back of the head, and embedded deep within his skull. The eyes widened briefly, before the pupils shrank to almost microscopic levels. He collapsed, still looking at Terrik with accusing, empty eyes, until his head hit the floor. Terrik shivered involuntarily, the accusing glare was still in the dead mans eyes.

A bullet whizzed past Terrik, and briefly he felt part of his ear fall off. He brought his free hand to his ear, and felt fresh blood. Shaking his head he hoisted his gun in front of his face and shot the wannabe assailant in the nose.

The surprise on wannabe’s face when the bullet impacted was immense. It imbedded itself near the back of his nose. The force made him stagger back. Fearing what he already knew he brought his hand to the bloody remains of his nose. His fingers found the gaping hole. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he slumped to the floor, obviously dead.

Out of the corner of his eye Terrik spotted more incoming bullets, each one closer than the last. He quickly leaped to his right, aiming some shots in the rough direction of his shooters.  Not accurate enough to hurt them, but enough to make them hide. And that was the point of the exercise , Terrik smiled, then grimaced. Smiling agitated the ear wound.

Finding himself a slight crevice to protect himself with, Terrik reloaded his gun. His allies were doing the same, except for Dafs, who was looking for a way out. He watched Dafs drop his shotgun, his face obviously disgusted by this current turn of events. Ducking from more incoming fire he brought out his twin Beretta 1938s. He checked the clips, then pushed them back in.

Another shot impacted with his body, his shoulder this time. Grimacing, Dafs aimed his weapons at the shooters, smoking them with both barrels. One fell backwards, the neck bent further than it was ever meant to go. The blood was spurting out as he did his final death gargle and fell silent. Dafs shook his head silently before letting off another volley.

The other had a bullet straight through the back of his head, dead before he even hit the ground.

Vektar was trying to get to the helicopter, escorting Carys and the injured military advisor who was being carried by Captain Black and Lieutenant Nakejama. Using one of the weapons the enemy had dropped he shot in every direction he was being shot from. He wasn’t paid to be accurate, he wasn’t paid, his aim was to get to the helicopter, and get his allies safe and sound. No one mentioned how tough that was going to be.

Terrik saw a few bullets streaming just above his forehead. His safe haven in the crevice was now a trap, and only quick moving would free him. He crouched and ran to the nearest rock, which he leapt behind. Reloading his weapon with his last remaining clip he kissed it slightly. For luck.

Slowly he peered from the rock, and a bullet whistled directly overhead. He flinched slightly then aimed just to the right of the rock and narrowly missed an opponent hidden behind a tree. The second shot came from that direction, and Terrik wasn’t so lucky that time. He felt a slight crack from his spine and all went to black.

Seeing Terrik slump to the floor Dafs eyed the assailant, and skidded down the ravine. The killer wasn’t expecting that, and pretty soon he became a bloody stump.

Dafs ran the gauntlet of the walls of the ravine, barely avoiding being shot, but not killing anyone. He found a low point and scaled back to the ravine top. He grabbed Terrik and ran straight at the helicopter. There were ten enemies blocking him from the helicopter. Each one had a heavy assault weapon.

They started shooting, bullets and shell-casings raining down all around Dafs. One wormed its way into his knee cap. Grunting in pain he kept dodging, and somehow managed to get Terrik into the cargo bay. Deftly he locked the armour plated door.

Gustav was pinned down, his margin of error falling, and the enemy getting closer and closer, better and better. Dafs had his own problems, and decided to play bait. A dangerous tactic, but he wasn’t going to let his friend die. But if this failed, there was nothing he could do to prevent that. Dead men can’t fight the darkness.

He had twelve bullets left, Gustav had a few, but panicking people lose all sense of accuracy and tactics. Survival is the only concern, either by killing or scaring. These people weren’t going to be frightened away from a near quivering animal, no matter how lethal his strikes.

Gustav was holding them off for a time, about two dead bodies lay on the floor, but inside the hole was traces of blood, Gustav’s own. Dafs shot about five of his opponents in various extremities. The rest, seeing he wasn’t as easy as they had hoped went to hunt Gustav. The odds against him had worsened. His panic would be his downfall. Gustav gritted his teeth slightly, and found his daggers in his back pocket. Grinning, he armed himself with his daggers.

With lethal accuracy he hit one in the neck, the eyes widened out of shock at the transformed Gustav. The blood was oozing out, and he grasped his neck with both hands in a futile attempt to halt the blood flow. He started to choke as the blood left him. Then the colour left the eyes, and the pupils rolled into the back of his head. He fell backwards, and his life was extinguished.

The rest started shooting a bit more wildly now. And the way things stood not even the daggers will help Gustav now. Dafs saw multiple versions of the scene playing through his mind, all with Gustav dying. Come on!! I can save him!! He let off a few bullets, managing to kill two of the enemies, one shot in the head. The other had his stomach ruptured, and would die from the wound.

The last gambit would be made by making the enemy understand why Dafs was nicknamed ‘rhino’ by his friends and enemies alike. He crouched down to the charging position, eyed where he could do the most damage with one charge; as that would be all he’d get, and ran towards them, head lowered, and arms ready to do maximum damage.

When he was about five metres away from them they looked up, and tried to make a run for it. Gustav, taking his final chance hurled five daggers at five differing enemies. All five hit.

One had a dagger cut through the top of his head, and he stumbled mid-stride, his momentum hurling him another metre before he collapsed. His coat ruffled slightly, and then all fell silent.

Another had a gaping wound in his leg, he was gasping in pain. His eyes were clenched closed and silent ears came from beneath the eyelids. The dagger was imbedded deep, and it took all his willpower to leave it there. He was unable to move, which was basically the same effect as if we’d killed him, minus the screaming.

The three others lay on the floor, the pools of blood emanating from them. No two ways about it, they were going to die.

Grabbing Gustav by the shoulder Dafs ran with him to the helicopter and put him in. He shouted to Eugene who did some cover fire to make sure no-one hit him. He got in the helicopter himself, and screamed to everyone to get in. He started the engine while there was gunfire coming from all sides.

The whirring got louder and the engine got to full power. “All systems green, we are good to go,” Dafs grinned. About five metres up there was a massive pull on the back of the helicopter, and it took all its power just to regain altitude. “Guys, look out the back, what’s our status?”

“They’ve connected the tail to five metres of heavy duty chains. We’re not going anywhere until we get them free.”

Dafs calculated the risks, and the chain weakpoint. “I’ll go, I’m the strongest here, if anyone is able to break the chain in some way, its going to be me. Keep the Apache hovering, and lay down cover fire. How many rounds do we have?”

“The last multitude of hits knocked out the forward machine gun. We can’t protect you.”

Dafs face paled, and he gulped. “Meaning I’ll be going down there without fire support?” He shook his head, collected his breath and shakily said, “Looks like I’ve volunteered for a suicide mission. Anyone willing to help me out?”

“The big guns are out of ammunition, all we have are the pistols with any ammunition left.”

“What about the weapons we had in earlier missions?”

“Most of them are either broke, are in serious need of repair, or have no ammunition. Looks like Kayne also took a few for personal use.”

“Bastard,” choked Black.

“We have nothing to lift you back up with now, and now there are no suitable landing sites.”

“What about where we just were?”

“Look down.”

Dafs took his eyes over where they were before, now what was there was an artillery hole. “Nobody warned us about them having long range weapons!!”

“We’ll come back for you somehow. I don’t know how though.”

“Down into the abyss I go. All the things I do for my friends.” He jumped. He bent his knees on impact, but still heard his legs crack.

Briefly he looked around, looked for a winch or something holding the helicopter down. Spotting something like a chain he carefully limped towards it, making as little noise as possible. Eyeing the chain he saw where he thought it was weakest. He grabbed it with his arms, and screamed as he ripped the chain from its moorings.

He climbed up the chain and started to swing himself towards the helicopter entrance. Shots were happening all around him. Just as he neared the entrance he got hit in the back, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he fell to the Earth, with his last breath humming ‘chop suey’ by System of a Down.  I cry when angels deserve to die, in my self-righteous suicide, I cry when angels deserve to die.

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