But historically, luck was rarely on our side, and shit always went sideways. And with that “watched” feeling having my spine tingling, I readied my rifle and lowered my NVGs, and the green glow filled my line of sight.
“Let’s do this,” Jesse said after we did a comms check; then he fist-bumped us all, and we scattered into our positions.
I kept tabs on the rest of my crew on the assault team over comms, since I couldn’t visually make them out anymore, our camo clothes blending us into the terrain. “Nearing target location,” I shared, and a pop of static filled the line, followed by bursts of rounds being fired off in the distance. And then there it was. The bad feeling coming to life. “The cabin is under attack. A sharpshooter somewhere. Probably two.”
“This is Alpha One,” Carter said. “Get down until we can make out their positions. Stay low until the threats have been eliminated.”
“The men inside won’t have time.” I low-crawled, trying to locate where the shots were coming from.
“This is Alpha Five, I have one scoped. Let’s hit the snipers at the same time. Can anyone locate the second shooter?” Hudson asked.
“This is Alpha Seven. I have movement. Prepping the shot.” I lined my sights on the man’s chest. Dialed in my scope to two hundred meters. Then, letting go of a breath, I relaxed my body in anticipation of the shot.
“On my count,” Hudson said. “Three, two, one.”
I squeezed the trigger, and the recoil came back and into my shoulder. Contact made. “He’s down.”
“Mine as well,” Hudson answered.
“Charlie Mike,” Carter ordered. Continue mission.
“Fuck.” I heard someone curse over the line not even a second later, certain it was Constantine. And then an order. “Shields the fuck up. We’ve got a swarm heading our way from behind. We were followed.”
“I have movement. There’s still someone alive inside,” I said amid the gunfire. Screw rubber bullets. We’d been under attack for the last five minutes from every angle. I’d taken three lives so far tonight, and as I neared the cabin to check for life, I had a feeling there were more kills to come. “Permission to move inside and check?”
“This is Alpha One, I’ve got you covered. Move in,” Carter answered. “Alpha Two, go in with him. We’ve got you.”
Maybe it was something primal inside me, but as I maneuvered along the side of the cabin to access the room where I’d spied movement, my body hummed, and adrenaline propelled me forward. This was what I was good at. What I felt like I’d been made to do. Fight. Win wars. Be a fucking gladiator of modern times.
I caught a flash of movement from the side, ensured it wasn’t someone from my team, and set my crosshairs on him. After a quick calculation, I adjusted and squeezed off a round. My fourth kill now.
“Keep your head down, Seven.” Constantine’s voice cut over the line, using my call sign, as I swapped my rifle for my pistol.
Jesse set a hand to my shoulder and tapped, letting me know he was there. I kept my head low and carefully opened the door. A bullet punched the door, almost hitting me.
“Fuck. Sorry,” Constantine groaned. “You’re clear.”
“A little close there, brother,” I hissed while moving inside.
The cabin was pitch-black, but with my night vision, I could make out two bodies not going anywhere, face down in the room. And another in a chair. Head hung. Probably cuffed to it. “Cleaner is down,” I alerted the team in a low voice. “But we have movement. Looks like one officer is still alive.” And he was crawling, trying to get cover.
“This is Alpha One. That’s a good copy. See if he knows anything. Get him to talk. We’ve got your back out here.”
War rumbled around us from outside and from every direction. And from the sounds of it, we’d be needing that backup and soon. By my guess, we had more than one team of bad guys out there trying to get inside the cabin, and we were all that stood in the way of them doing it.
A few more bursts of fire tapped at the exterior of the cabin, and I ducked out of view of the window and put eyes on Jesse, ensuring he was still good. He nodded and flicked his wrist and pointed to the guy crawling.
“We’re friendlies,” Jesse told him. “Here for a rescue.”
The man on the floor went still, and I spied his hand curling into a fist. Did he have something he was trying to protect?
“How do I know I can trust you?” he asked, still flat on his belly. No weapon in hand from what I could tell, and whatever was in his palm was too small to be a grenade.