He looked up as the flares spurted their last gasp of light, then the area went dark, his eyes slowly adjusting to the near darkness, moon and starlight, with a hint of light from the western horizon, all that was left.
And against that horizon were dozens of men jumping to their feet, storming toward them, screaming “Allahu Akbar!”
And Soliman agreed. He just wondered whose side Allah was on today.
Terrence and Jenny were lying on their stomachs, looking down at the dig site. A steady stream of gunfire was being poured onto the camp from a line of what appeared to be dozens of individual weapons. Leather and one of his men were with them, surveying the situation, while the two others had left a few minutes ago.
“Why aren’t they fighting back?” asked Jenny, a question that was echoing in his own mind.
“They’re not advancing, so let them waste their ammo. I’d estimate each of the opposition has expended at least three clips so far, and the fact we haven’t seen anything heavier like grenades or fifty cals tells me they don’t have them. We’re dealing with a lightly armed unit, most likely not very well trained.”
“But they’re fanatics, right? They’ll die before they fail?”
Leather looked at Terrence.
“So it’s our job to make sure they not only die, but fail as well.”
“How?”
Leather pointed behind them.
“Grab a weapon, and follow me.”
Jenny scrambled over to a stockpile of weapons that Leather had apparently prepositioned for this very possibility, and grabbed a Glock and an MP5.
Terrence gulped. He had been training like the others, in fact, more than the others, but never in a million years would he have thought he’d actually have to use the training on real people.
Jenny looked at him and he quickly scrambled over to save face, selecting the Glock and MP5 as well, then filling his pockets with clips.
“Body armor!” hissed Leather, pointing at a pile to the right.
Terrence tossed a vest to Jenny, then slid his own over his head, quickly securing it in place. He felt a little better now, but not much. He looked about for a helmet, but found none. He and Jenny returned to Leather’s position just as the flares died and shouts of the two words that were meant to provide comfort but now terrified the world over, “Allahu Akbar!”, echoed across the desert.
“Here they come!” whispered Jenny, her voice filled with the terror that was gripping Terrence.
“And here we go,” said Leather, jumping to his feet and rushing toward the camp with his comrade.
Terrence looked at Jenny. She gave him a quick kiss, then jumped to her feet, rushing after Leather. Terrence looked up at the heavens, said a silent prayer, then chased after the two, not sure if he felt safer alone on the ridge, or together with the others.
A huge hail of gunfire from below settled the question in his mind.
The ridge, alone.
Imam Khalil watched from his vantage point, behind the door of the truck, as his men rained lead on the infidels and their defenders. It was a beautiful sight, the night sky lit by the flares, the muzzle flashes accentuating the determined faces of his men, the glee in their eyes as they executed Allah’s will.
He himself was caught up in the moment, the heroism of his men, the glory of Allah filling his chest, as they fired round after round at the blasphemers below.
Blasphemers who weren’t fighting back.
It took him a minute to realize that they weren’t returning fire, and another minute to ask himself why, rather than rejoice in their lack of response. But when he did finally realize he should be asking the question, his mind filled with a rush of possibilities. They could be dead already. They might be unarmed. They may have no ammo. They may simply be letting his men waste their ammo.
He frowned, then the flares sputtered out, and it was too late. His men jumped to their feet and roared “Allahu Akbar”, charging forward, guns blazing yet again.
And he stepped out from behind the truck door, gun raised in the air, shouting with them. “Allahu Akbar!” His chest filled with the fighting spirit, adrenaline fueling his courage, Allah urging him into the fight. He rushed forward, after his men, shouting into the night sky, hoping his god was listening.
Then suddenly all hell broke loose.
The sound of their attackers charging forward was unmistakable, yet still no one returned fire. And if they didn’t within the next few seconds, the camp would be overrun and their lives lost.
“To hell with it!” muttered Acton, jumping up to one knee and aiming his weapon at the first thing he saw. He squeezed the trigger then relaxed his finger, a short burst erupting from the end of this MP5, and the target dropping. He shifted his sight to the right, and repeated the short burst, taking out another.
Movement beside him then the ear ringing roar of weapons fire told him his friends had joined in, and as he watched, at least another half dozen of their attackers dropped.
Colonel Soliman yelled something to their left, and finally his men jumped up and opened fire, but it seemed too late, the enemy nearly at their positions. Another half dozen went down before gunfire was directed at the central position Acton occupied. They all dropped as sustained fire pounded on their earthen barrier.
“Wait until he has to reload!” yelled Reading, the only truly experienced soldier in the group. Acton looked over at Laura and could see the fear in her eyes. He tried to give her a reassuring look, but was certain he had failed miserably, he himself terrified. His heart was pounding so hard he felt like he was halfway through a marathon, and his adrenaline was pumping so freely, he could feel his hands shake.
He closed his eyes and sucked in a slow breath through his nose, counting to five and pushing it into his stomach, then holding it for a five count, he slowly let it out through his mouth over another five seconds. Repeating one more time, he felt himself begin to calm when the gunfire stopped.
“Now!” yelled Reading.
They all jumped up at the same time, which in retrospect turned out to be the wrong thing to do. The one who had been charging their position and was now reloading was dropped by Laura, but immediately behind him he had a friend, who was fully loaded, who returned the fire. There was a cry from somebody in their group, and Acton squeezed the trigger, taking the man out, his body dropping in an uncoordinated heap not ten feet from their position.
A quick glance to his right and he didn’t see the rest of his comrades, but before he could look, a scream of “Allahu Akbar” to his right had him swinging to engage a lone attacker who had managed to break through their flank. His weapon belched lead at Acton, missing widely as the uncontrolled weapon bounced in the air. Acton took a bead and dropped him, then quickly scanned from left to right for any threats, but found the rest focusing on the positions held by The Brotherhood.
Acton dropped and automatically reloaded his weapon as he looked to see what was going on with his friends. Reading was applying pressure to a wound in Chaney’s chest. Chaney, even in the moonlight and muzzle flashes, appeared ghostly pale.
“Is he going to be okay?” asked Acton, giving Laura a shake on the shoulder to see if she was okay. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, but no look of physical pain. The relief he felt knowing she wasn’t hurt spurred him to keep it that way, and he jumped back up to scan the area.
That’s when the silent body of one of their attackers leapt through the air at him, no shout to Allah on his lips, merely hatred sneered across his face. Acton instinctively swung his weapon toward the man as he ducked back down, but it was too late. The barrel of his gun hit the man’s shoulder, the shot blocked, the bullets blazing harmlessly into the night sky.
Laura screamed.
Colonel Soliman heard the cry of a man come from the archeologists’ position, but he didn’t have time to deal with it. He and his brothers were now fully engaged, and he knew within minutes their ammunition would be depleted, and they would be overrun i
f they couldn’t turn the tide of this battle quickly.
But we’re outnumbered almost two to one!
He jumped up and swept his Kalashnikov from left to right, his finger depressed on the trigger as precious lead erupted from the barrel, removing three more of their attackers from the long term picture, when two of his brothers went down beside him. He dropped to a knee and saw his two cousins Mohammad and Mahmoud down, and dead, their chests ripped open.
Another shout and his nephew Rahim dropped beside him. Tears filled Soliman’s eyes as he saw the boy he had known from birth stare up at him with dead eyes. Rage filled his heart, and he jumped up, cover be damned, and shot at the first thing he saw, emptying his magazine into the one man, wasting those precious few last bullets he had.
He dropped, grabbing Rahim’s weapon and yanking the clip.
Empty.
He began to check his cousins for ammo when a roar from overhead caused him to spin around, pulling his knife off his belt. On instinct he shoved it upward and into the man’s belly, twisting it hard, scrambling his innards as he groaned, toppling forward, a dead weight that crushed Soliman under it. He hit the ground with a grunt, pushing the mass off him as the man’s intestines flowed out onto Soliman’s uniform. He scrambled backward, then in a blind rush, sprinted toward the center position where the archeologists were, just as the scream of a woman rang out.
Terrence watched the battle unfold below, passing the night vision goggles back and forth with Jenny, their stomachs glued to the ground Leather had told them to hug, he and the other guard having continued closer to the camp.
“Oh my God!” exclaimed Jenny, pushing her neck forward, as if the extra inch might give her a better view.
“What is it?” asked Terrence, desperate for his turn.
Jenny handed him the glasses. “I think that detective, Chaney, just got hit.”
Terrence looked, the view racing across the desert, then the camp, then finally the foxhole, if it could be called that since it wasn’t actually a hole, that protected the professors and their friends.
He gasped.
Somebody was down, of that there was no doubt. It was hard to tell who, the greenish hue he was looking at hard to distinguish facial details. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Professor Palmer moving about, her slight frame compared to the men easy to distinguish. And he was pretty sure it was Professor Acton that was on his feet firing at the approaching enemy.
The firing from the position stopped for a moment, then Terrence leapt to his feet and yelled, “Look out!” to no avail, as an attacker leapt over the pile of sand.
Terrence sprinted toward the camp, pulling his weapon into position, strapping the night vision goggles to his head, ignorant of the shouts from behind him as Jenny jumped to her feet to give chase.
I have to save the professor!
Acton’s weapon bounced off the man uselessly as he continued to fly at him, the man’s arms outstretched, one hand containing a knife Crocodile Dundee would have been proud of. Then suddenly the man jerked to his left, as if pulled by a cord ninety degrees from where he was headed, followed by a clap of thunder Acton recognized immediately from the incident in China.
But this time it was on their side.
He dropped, checking his weapon, and glancing at Chaney. Both Reading and Laura were working on him, but with the rapidness the blood seemed to be saturating the shirt Reading had ripped off himself, Acton had the sinking feeling their friend wouldn’t make it.
A sound of footfalls to his left caused him to spin, weapon whipping up as his finger began to squeeze the trigger.
“It’s me!” yelled the voice, a voice not yet familiar enough for Acton to think “It’s me” was a sufficient enough greeting, but it at least caused a moment’s hesitation that allowed him to recognize the colonel and temporary ally.
Acton lowered the weapon, returning his attention to their front, popping up and firing as another body was ripped from existence, skipping across the desert floor as their ex-SAS guards began their defense.
Sorry I ever doubted you, boys!
Another body skidded across the desert, this time in the opposite direction, Acton surmising they had set up two positions to protect both flanks. But what was also becoming too clear was that The Brotherhood positions were nearly completely overrun, and it was time to retreat. He looked at Reading.
“We need to fall back, now!”
Reading looked at Acton, then the battle.
“Give me sixty seconds.”
He jumped up and raced toward the nearest tent before Acton could yell at him to get down, leaving him instead to provide cover fire long enough for Reading to reach the safety only canvas could provide.
“Weapon?” asked Soliman, now behind the mound of sand.
Acton motioned with his chin to Chaney’s weapon lying on the ground. “Clips are stacked up here,” he said.
Soliman quickly grabbed the weapon, reloaded and opened fire.
Acton decided footfalls behind him were Reading’s, confirmed by the heavy grunt as the man hit the ground. Acton took a quick glance and saw he had retrieved a cot with a sleeping bag still on top.
Good man!
“Cover us,” Acton said to Soliman, and Acton dropped his weapon, helping the others load Chaney onto the cot, the sleeping bag open. They then zipped up the back just as two forms came rushing out of the darkness.
Acton grabbed his weapon, raising it, when Laura yelled, “No!”, reaching out and slapping the barrel of his weapon up as he squeezed the trigger.
But it was too late.
The first of the approaching figures dropped to the ground, the other crying out in a voice he recognized as one of Laura’s students, Jenny.
“Terrence!” she cried.
Oh my God! Please no!
Acton jumped up and ran over to Terrence and flipped him over. He wasn’t moving, and they were totally exposed. He grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him toward their cover, Jenny following as she sobbed uncontrollably.
Another shot from the sniper rifle rolled across the site, but as Acton quickly took stock of the situation, he could see their attackers were now all huddled behind protective barriers, pinned down, but still a threat as guns were held up blindly and fired.
And it appeared The Brotherhood was gone, all that remained was Colonel Soliman. Acton began to wonder whether or not he was the last of the entire Brotherhood, or if there were more in Egypt, when Terrence coughed. Acton let go of the boy’s shirt, and gave him a quick look, then rapped on his chest, the hard feeling of body armor on his knuckles unmistakable.
Acton looked at Jenny.
“Check if any bullets went through,” he ordered, then fired several shots at one of their attackers bold enough to reveal more than an arm. He ducked back behind the large rock.
“He’s okay!” cried Jenny, the joy in her voice obvious.
“What the hell are you two doing here?” demanded Laura in about as angry a voice as he had ever heard from her.
“He insisted on coming back to save you guys.”
“What?” It was Reading this time who exploded. “Of all the daft things to do!”
“We found another vehicle, the rest are half way to Cairo by now.”
Acton’s mind twigged. Another vehicle? Two of The Brotherhood trucks had already been overrun by the attackers, the other they had hoped to escape with now had a flat tire from a stray bullet.
“What kind of vehicle?”
“Jeep.”
“How many will she hold?”
“Not a lot.”
But enough, even if we’re piled in there we could put some distance.
He did the mental math. There were seven of them here, one of them wounded, plus the four guards. Two in the front, four in the back, two on the rear, two on the sideboards, and Chaney’s stretcher strapped on somehow.
It may just work.
He looked at Reading and Laura.
“You
guys ready?”
Both nodded.
“Okay, when I signal, all of you head straight back, behind the main tent, then Jenny, you lead them to the Jeep. The Colonel and I will hold them off until you’re out of sight, then join you.”
“Who’s going to cover you?” demanded Laura.
“Your friends,” he smiled. He leaned over, gave her a quick kiss, holding her by the back of the head, pressing her hard against his lips, then letting go. “Now go!” he yelled, jumping up and pouring fire on the remaining positions. He heard grunting behind him as Reading and Laura picked up the cot containing Chaney, and Jenny hauled a still gasping Terrence to his feet.
Acton emptied his clip, then quickly reloaded, checking behind him as he did. He caught sight of Laura disappearing behind the tent, and Terrence just seeming to get his wind back, his pace picking up as he and Jenny rounded the canvas.
Acton opened fire again, several short bursts, in between bursts shouting directions. “Gather as much ammo as you can!” he said, firing, “then when I’m done this clip, we go!”
Soliman was immediately on the ground, loading his pockets with clips and stuffing Acton’s as well, when the final shot rang out.
“Let’s go!”
Acton jumped up, sprinting after his friends, Soliman on his heels. As they rounded the tent Acton heard a terrified yelp and spun around to find the reporter, Naser Khattab, huddled in the darkness, apparently not destined to be a war correspondent.
“Come with me if you want to live,” said Acton, holding his hand out and beginning to smile at the coolness of having been able to actually deliver that line unintentionally in real life. The young man nodded, taking the proffered hand.
Acton hauled him to his feet, all too aware that the count had just increased to twelve people, but still one jeep. He wondered if the vehicle would even be able to move with so many people hanging off it.
One problem at a time.
Imam Khalil peered into the darkness, the tone of the battle having changed. There were new weapons involved, high powered weapons, that seemed to be picking his men off. He himself had retreated back to what he hoped was the safety of the trucks, but as man after man dropped, he began to even question that.
The Arab Fall (A James Acton Thriller, Book #6) (James Acton Thrillers) Page 20
