When There's No More Room in Hell 3

by Luke Duffy

  The steel of the blade in Robbie's hand flashed in the darkness as he brought it around and thrust it against the sentry's throat. He felt the flesh pop as he pushed the knife in deep, driving it into the area behind the windpipe, then pushing it forward, severing the trachea and cutting off any cry for help that the soldier could have mustered.

  The body below him thrashed and kicked as the man felt his life being snatched from him. His survival instincts took over and he struggled with the strength of a bear as Robbie held on tightly, bringing the knife back towards the soldier's throat.

  As the blood gushed and poured over his hands and down his arms, Robbie began hacking away at the flesh of the soldier's neck, sawing through sinew, muscle and arteries. The man continued to struggle, his severed throat emitting a gargling, rasping noise as his body fought desperately for air and survival.

  Robbie continued to cut, feeling the warm, crimson fluid cascade over his hands and smelling the familiar iron-rich tang of blood as it flowed from the soldier's destroyed gullet.

  Eventually, the man began to fall limp. His feet continued to scuff around in the dirt and his gaping windpipe sucked at the air, but he was close to death now.

  Robbie was still hacking at his neck, ensuring that any message or warning from the dying man was rendered impossible. The blade struck bone as it sliced the top vertebrate of the spine, and Robbie stopped.

  He sat back, his chest heaving heavily as he gasped for breath. His body was soaked in sweat and his hands glistened with blood, looking almost black in the dark shadow of the trees. His breathing came in rasps and his body shook uncontrollably, as it began to suffer from the after effects of the adrenaline and struggle.

  The body lay still in front of him, the man's pale face staring back at him in the gloom that suddenly seemed brighter under the cover of the trees. The wide frozen eyes remained fixed and unblinking, fossilised in an expression of perpetual surprise and horror.

  Robbie's breathing began to slow as he regained his composure. He knelt up in the dirt and rubbed his blood-soaked hands on the ground, then wiped the sweat from his face on the back of his sleeve, smearing more blood across his features.

  "Fuck’s sake," he snarled to himself as he realised his mistake, feeling the blood seeping into his eyes.

  He reached down and keyed the radio.

  "Position clear," he whispered.

  Soon, the remainder of the team had joined him just below the crest of the hill as Robbie sat waiting patiently, cleaning the blood from his knife.

  "Fucking hell," Tobias gasped with a grin when he saw the state of his friend and the smears of blood that coated his face.

  "Did you eat the poor bastard?"

  "Fuck off, Toby," Robbie sneered, and then grinned at his friend.

  They spread themselves out along the ridge and peered down into the low ground at the farm complex below.

  Tobias looked to his right and studied Marcus' face. In the faint light, he could see that the man was sweating profusely, despite the cold of the early morning. His skin was pale and shiny and he looked as though he had not slept in weeks.

  Tobias hardly knew Marcus, but he could see that the man was close to collapse.

  'You're one tough bastard, mate,' he thought to himself as he watched Marcus with a sense of admiration.

  Since the ambush at the road, none of them had even considered resting. After learning about the helicopter being shot down and his people taken prisoner, Marcus had single-mindedly driven them forward while his blood coursed with a lust for vengeance.

  Tobias and Robbie, after weeks of watching the farm, built a detailed model of the ground, buildings and outlying features and informed Marcus of the strengths and routines of the enemy.

  The complex was set in a patch of low ground, with the ridgeline directly to the west of it and sprawling farmland to the east. A road led up to the farm from the south, following the contour of the small valley, which the farm sat at the head of.

  According to Tobias and Robbie, the prisoners were being held in the long rectangular buildings on the west side of the complex, with the main farmhouse at the north end for the commander and his staff and the soldiers occupying the barn and stables to the east.

  Two defensive positions were set on the southern approach, not far from the main gate, with another position further to the north, at the rear of the complex and covering mainly to the north and east.

  "So much for the 'three up' rule," Marcus commented as Tobias informed them of the enemy numbers.

  "What's the 'three up' rule?" Steve asked as he stared at the model.

  "Military doctrine," Marcus replied as he coughed and spat to the side.

  "If you're attacking a section strength position, you use a platoon, outnumbering the enemy by three to one. If it's a platoon held position, you would use a company to attack it, and so on," he paused and smiled at his brother. "We're attacking a platoon with less than a section, so it's arse backwards."

  Marcus had formed his plan and issued his orders, covering every detail of the operation and ensuring that everyone knew what their job was.

  A kilometre to the south, he had ordered that Kieran be left in a small wood, with Helen to watch over him. She had protested at first but Marcus had cut her off, insisting that his decision was final. The reason was not one of chivalry or chauvinistic values, but of logic. She was medically trained and Kieran needed her attention, and more importantly, he wanted Steve's head to be clear. They were about to go into battle and he did not want his brother being more concerned about the wellbeing and safety of his girlfriend, but he had kept the latter reason to himself during his justification to Helen.

  From there, the remainder of them had pressed on towards the farm and their friends being held captive there.

  Marcus and Tobias would be the main assault group, with Stu and Robbie controlling the two fire support groups with Steve, Jake and Lee, armed with the machineguns that they had stripped from the dead soldiers at the ambush site.

  Now, they waited in their positions, watching the farm and checking their watches as H-hour approached.

  Stu and Steve lay quietly, holding their weapons tight into their shoulders as they watched the minutes tick by. They were forward of the high ground where Marcus and the others would launch their attack from and at a right angle to their line of assault. They lay perched on a small rise in the ground to the south of the complex on the far side of the road, giving them an over watch on the front and east side of the farm. From there, they could deal with any reinforcement that would be sent to counter attack.

  Robbie, Lee, and Jake were higher up to the west, on top of the ridge with a complete view of the farm, enabling them to pour fire into the positions ahead of Marcus and Tobias as they moved forward.

  Without the gun group's weight of fire, Marcus and Tobias would be dead within seconds after launching their attack.

  "Overwhelm the bastards," Marcus had said to them, repeatedly. "They need to be wiped out the moment we move. As we take one position, switch your fire to the next and don’t give them a second to breathe or re-group."

  The machinegun teams linked all their belted ammunition together, saving time on reloads and allowing them to keep a high rate of fire pouring down onto the unsuspecting enemy.

  As they waited, each of them had time to reflect and consider what they were about to do. Their senses became aware of the smallest things, the cold breeze blowing the grass just below their faces, the sound of mice rustling in the underbrush and the birds twittering in the trees as they waited for the arrival of the new day.

  Their minds drifted and thought of things that they had long since forgotten, the tiniest details becoming as vivid as though the events had happened only yesterday. More than anything, the waiting allowed their fear to grow.

  Every one of them had a knot growing in their stomachs and icy shivers running along their spines. Regardless of whether they were veterans, like Marcus and Tobias, or wh
ether they were ordinary men, unused to war, like Steve and Jake; all of them were afraid.

  Their bodies trembled from the cold and the nervous tendrils that seemed to creep along, just below the surface of their flesh. The only difference between the veteran and the unseasoned was that the tried and tested warriors amongst them knew how to channel their fear, to use it as part of their will to live and fight for their survival. They could take the fear that threatened to overwhelm them and turn it against their enemy, adding it to their aggression as they stormed forward through the hail of gunfire.

  Marcus looked down at his watch and then glanced at the slowly brightening sky. A cold breeze wafted against his face and he closed his eyes for a moment, taking pleasure from its cooling effect on his flushing skin.

  "Five minutes," he said as he keyed the radio.

  A number of double clicks, producing short moments of static, came through his earpiece in reply, informing him that the two gun groups understood and were ready.

  He turned and looked at Tobias, their eyes locking for a moment. Tobias nodded, confirming that he was ready without Marcus having to ask.

  The minutes ticked by and Marcus checked his watch continuously until the sweeping hand entered into the final minute on the countdown towards the initiation of the attack.

  "Ten seconds," he whispered into the radio, gripping his weapon tightly and readying his body for the first leap forward.

  "Three…two…one…"

  Like the sound of a gigantic piece of tearing cloth, the guns opened up instantly, firing long bursts into their allocated targets. The air rang with the continuous echoing clatter of the machineguns as their rounds zipped and cracked through it, smashing into the positions and disintegrating anything that moved within their line of fire.

  Marcus watched for a moment as the streaks of glowing red tracer rounds from Stu and Steve's guns glided along the shallow valley below him from the right, ploughing through the thick brick walls of the soldiers’ living quarters to the east and causing the gable end to collapse within seconds.

  More rounds whizzed in from higher up, along the ridgeline to his right, as Robbie, Lee and Jake hammered away at the sentry positions that were placed on the south side of the farm and directly in the line of assault for Marcus and Tobias.

  Clods of dirt shot up around the makeshift bunkers, their mud and brick walls collapsing instantly as the heavy rounds thumped through them and into the men inside. Screams echoed from within the positions as flesh and bone was shredded and splintered by the devastating fire that rained in upon them.

  Already, the forward positions were nothing more than smouldering holes in the ground, filled with shattered and broken bodies, their blood mixing into the mud below them as the thunder of the rapidly firing machineguns shook the valley.

  "Move," Marcus cried as he leapt up and rushed forward, charging down the hill then dropping to one knee, firing into the men that began to spill out of the surrounding buildings behind the bunkers.

  As Marcus fired, Tobias jumped from his position and bounded forward, the noise of battle ringing in his ears as the bass drumbeat of his heart was drowned out by the snapping rounds filling the air all around him.

  Bright glowing bullets shot past him as the enemy tried to return fire, cracking loudly as they displaced the air. Clods of earth erupted all around him as the rounds thumped into the ground, barely missing him as he forced himself forward, and roaring as he did so.

  The valley resounded with the racket of the pounding machineguns, their deadly fire never letting up for a moment as the gun groups covered the advance of Marcus and Tobias.

  More men appeared from within the barn and began to fire at the two men charging towards them from the hill, their bullets exploding from their rifles and zooming towards their targets.

  Robbie swung his gun around, the distant figures dancing before the point of his foresight. He squeezed the trigger, feeling the weapon jerk in his hands and buffet against his shoulder as he watched his searing rounds sail through the air and smash into the bodies of the men, sending them tumbling and spinning as they fell into the mud.

  Steve and Stu watched as Marcus and Tobias closed in on their first objective, the sentry positions in front of the farm. Glowing tracer rounds whipped past them as they ran, but the two men refused to slow down or fall back as they continued to storm forward.

  As their friends entered their arcs of fire, Stu ordered that they switch their aim to the right, concentrating it on the barn and the farmhouse.

  The air above Stu and Steve suddenly exploded with the crack and thump of rounds passing close overhead. Instinctively they ducked, burying their faces in the dirt and pressing themselves to the ground. Clumps of earth and grass sprang up around them as the enemy concentrated their fire on their position, pinning them down.

  "Crawl back," Stu screamed over the crescendo as more rounds smashed into the ground close by.

  "Crawl back to cover."

  Steve's ears rang with the deafening snaps of the speeding projectiles as they shattered the air. He was scared to move but seeing Stu begin to shuffle back prompted him to follow suit. As he crawled, he glanced behind him and saw a number of dark figures approaching along the road from the south. At first, he took them for soldiers, closing in on their rear, but a second glance revealed them as a cluster of roaming dead, attracted by the noise of battle.

  "We've got pus-bags behind us," Steve hollered over the roar of fire raining down upon them.

  Stu glanced back, judging the distance and time that it would take before they became any threat to them.

  "Don’t worry about them, for now. Follow me."

  Stu dropped down from the small rise and into the dead ground, turning to his right, lugging the machinegun and his belts of ammunition with him while he looked for a new fire support position.

  "Here," he shouted back to Steve as he dropped to the grass and began crawling up to a patch of high ground.

  "Come on, Steve, move your arse."

  Marcus crashed into the bunker of the first position and Tobias dropped in close behind him, landing on the mangled and bloodied remains of a soldier that had been torn apart by the machineguns.

  Both of them quickly changed magazines and gingerly peered over the top of the parapet.

  Their fire support had suddenly decreased and Marcus realised that only Robbie's group continued to spill their heavy rate of fire into the enemy, as they attempted to mount a counter assault.

  "Shit," Marcus growled, "I think Steve and Stu have been taken out."

  As if to confirm his fears, a burst of fire smashed into the ground at the lip of the hole where Marcus and Tobias were taking cover. Showers of dirt and debris rained down on top of them, forcing them deeper into the wrecked bunker.

  Marcus quickly glanced over the lip and immediately ducked back into cover.

  "Shit," he hissed at Tobias.

  "They're trying to get round from the barn side. Without Stu's guns, they’ll overrun us."

  His earpiece suddenly crackled and he heard Robbie's voice.

  "Marcus, they're flanking you. Stu and Steve are pinned down and we have no shot from here."

  Marcus grunted as another volley disintegrated the top of the hole.

  "Concentrate your fire on the barn, Robbie," he shouted through the radio, "pour it on 'em."

  The fire from Robbie's group reached fever pitch, the echo of their guns rattling the cold morning. Their rounds snapped and whizzed through the air above Marcus and Tobias as they suppressed the enemy remaining in the barn.

  Marcus raised himself into a crouch, staring up at the edge of their bunker.

  "What are you doing, Marcus?" Tobias shouted over the din of gunfire as he watched Marcus readying himself.

  Without a word, Marcus launched himself up and leapt from the hole. Tobias looked on in horror as the lip exploded in a hail of dirt and debris as the enemy soldiers concentrated their fire on Marcus.

  I
gnoring the danger, Tobias sprang from cover, charging in the wake of Marcus, screaming at the top of his lungs as they bore down towards the enemy, firing from the hip and throwing themselves forward in an uncontrollable rage.

  Marcus stormed towards the soldiers, rounds zipping past close by, snapping at his ears and ploughing the ground in front of him. He was roaring like a wild animal, his rifle jerking in his hands and his rounds smashed into a number of men who stopped to take aim at him. Their bodies shook and convulsed as Marcus and Tobias' bullets ripped through their flesh, dropping them to the ground as they screamed in pain.

  A powerful blow, like a punch from a heavyweight boxer, smashed into Marcus' stomach, causing him to lose his footing and trip; stumbling forward, he continued his assault. The weapon in his hands continued to shudder as he refused to slow his advance, sending more bullets tearing into the enemy and the walls of the barn.

  Another heavy thump struck his shoulder, sending a burning flash up into his brain and turning him to his right as he staggered on uneasy legs.

  Tobias was still moving forward, pressing the attack. He saw Marcus' body jerk and his stride begin to slow as the enemy rounds tore through him. He stumbled a few more paces, still howling with fury and firing his rifle from his weakening hands, when another round smashed into his side. His knees gave beneath him and he fell to the ground, his weapon dropping to the stone of the courtyard with a clatter.

  Tobias continued to charge for the barn, waiting for the rounds to begin smashing into him, too, as the enemy changed their point of aim. He fired on the move repeatedly, bellowing at the soldiers and challenging them to face him as his adrenaline and aggression carried him forward.

  Bullets continued to strike the ground all around him and crack in the air by his head, but he was still moving, and as far as he could tell, he had not been hit.

  He raced past Marcus as he lay on the ground, struggling to climb to his feet as more clods of dirt and gravel erupted around him.

  Tobias gritted his teeth, waiting for the shot that would take him down.