Swords of Exodus

by Larry Correia

  “You too, brother. You too. Now don’t get all squishy on me. We’ve got to shoot some motherfuckers in the face.” The Calm was overtaking me, and my fears and doubts were falling to the wayside. It’s not that I thought I wasn’t going to die. It was just that I no longer cared, at least not on the surface.

  We that remained were split into several smaller elements. Some would provide suppressive fire while others advanced. This would maximize our chances as opposed to blindly rushing the enemy. Jihan’s forces were using that technique and they were dying by the bushel. Ling and I were in the vanguard. Skunky was to remain in Katsumoto’s element. I slapped him on the shoulder and joined the troops I was going to be fighting with. We were discouragingly few in number, but that didn’t change anything. We had to do what we had to do.

  Katsumoto stood up, raising his voice so well that it sounded imposing over the raging fires and the snap and hiss of incoming rounds. “This is it! Our sacrifice will not be in vain! For the Order! For honor! For freedom!”

  “For freedom!” the people in my element echoed, Ling’s soprano voice standing out from the rest. The passion in their voices was undeniable. These people knew they were going to their deaths, and they wanted to die well. I can respect that, even if it’s somewhat antithetical to the mantra of a career mercenary such as myself.

  “Suppressing fire!” Katsumoto shouted. His entire element opened up on anything that moved through the remains of our roadblock. He looked over at Ling. “Advance!”

  “Let’s go!” Ling shouted. “Move, move, move! Advance on me!” Her people formed a tight wedge. They readied their weapons and jogged up the right side of the dam, giving the support element some separation as they fired past us. I lagged behind with the wounded, being out of shape, out of breath, and having had a pretty rough night.

  Sala Jihan’s army continued to advance around the destroyed roadblock and burning APC to the west like so many ants. The people in the front of my element opened fire as well. Incoming rounds zipped back at us, snapping past my ears and over my head. I just put my head down and ran harder, plodding along in my heavy vest and pack, hoping I wouldn’t trip or slip.

  A man in front of me screamed. Enemy fire cut through our little formation, tearing through his leg. He fell. His teammates paused, but they didn’t have time to pause. “Keep going!” I screamed, kneeling next to the fallen. “Keep going, goddamn it! I’ll take care of him!” I got him to let go of his mangled leg long enough to let me see the wound. The bullet had hit his shin bone and shattered it. He wasn’t going to be able to walk. There wasn’t much I could do. I pulled a tourniquet from my med pouch and looped it around his leg. A couple of inches above the wound, I cinched it down and twisted the windlass three times. The Exodus operative, who was swearing in German, shrieked at the pain, but it needed to be done.

  “Stay here! Hey! Listen to me, damn it! Stay here! Stay down! The truck with the other wounded will pick you up. Do you understand me?”

  He jerkily nodded his head, his teeth clenched from the pain.

  “I’ve stopped the bleeding. Hang in there. Good luck!” I slapped him on the shoulder, then was on my feet, running as hard as I could to catch up with the formation. I didn’t want to get left behind again.

  Ling’s element paused about halfway to the wreck of the BTR-70. She had her people firing at the roadblock while Katsumoto advanced his element. As soon as he moved, the time fuse on the explosives was initiated. Ling stopping her element allowed me to catch up and rejoin the formation. I took a knee next to the Exodus operatives, shouldered my carbine, and opened fire at the hoard of slave soldiers descending upon us. Icy wind chilled my neck as hot brass ejected past my face. Bullets snapped past us and over our heads. An RPG rocket screamed by and exploded in the distance somewhere. The pile of bodies at the gap was mounting.

  My safety glasses were spattered with blood as the Exodus woman next to me was hit. She didn’t even scream; the round went right through her face. I paused only long enough to check her condition. Her pretty face had been obliterated. This horrific sight was burned into my mind, but there was no time to dwell on it. “She’s dead!” I said to the man next to her, and resumed firing. The Calm kept the emotion at bay. For now.

  “On me, move, move, move!” Ling screamed. The other element had caught up with us. It was their turn to provide covering fire while we advanced. We didn’t have time to screw around. We were all vulnerable on the top of the dam. Bullets zipped back and forth, finding targets on both ends. Exodus operatives had the benefit of good training and body armor, but they were still dropping. Every second we delayed cost lives.

  Another smoke grenade was tossed ahead of us. The white cloud billowed up, concealing us from the enemy and vice versa. Their already poor accuracy only worsened, and we used the opportunity to push ahead.

  Another young man in our formation went down in a gurgle of blood. Three of his teammates stopped to help him. “No! Only one of you stop!” I yelled. “Come on you two, keep up! We gotta push! Come on!” Almost losing each other in the smoke, we reached the burning wreck of the BTR-70 at the western edge of the dam. We used the cluster of vehicles as cover and laid into the enemy so the other elements could advance. We had to get clear and survive until the charges. After that? If any of us were alive after that, we’d figure it out then.

  There were several ways a person on foot could get through the wreck of the roadblock, and Sala Jihan’s slave army streamed through all of them. There were just so many of them! I crouched behind a pockmarked jersey barrier and leveled my carbine at the gaps. BAM BAM, two shots here. Swing left, BAM BAM BAM, three more shots. Shit! More of them! Swing right, BAM BAM BAM BAM! Change magazines! It was chaos. We were right on top of them as they crossed through the roadblock. Gunfire rang out in every direction, drowning out the screams of men. The air was filled with heavy smoke that stunk of burning vehicles.

  I moved forward. Next to the burning APC was a Ural truck that had been mangled by the explosion. The heavy machine gun mounted in its bed was unusable. There was a small gap between the truck and the north wall of the dam. Jihan’s soldiers kept squeezing through one at a time. It was time to close that gap.

  I zigzagged around debris and dead bodies in my approach. I rounded an old car that was parked behind the roadblock, its windows shattered, and kept my gun trained on the gap.

  BOOM! I flinched as a grenade detonated somewhere to my left. The blast made my ears pop and scared the shit out of me. I snapped my head back to the gap when I heard a blood-curdling scream coming from that direction. I looked back just in time to see one of Jihan’s soldiers lunge at me, running at full speed.

  His SKS had its folding bayonet locked open. The wind was knocked out of me as the tip of his bayonet slid in between the magazine pouches on my vest and hit me dead center. I was pushed back, back, nearly falling, until I was slammed against the side of the car. The slave soldier’s eyes were wide, and glazed over. His mouth frothed as he screamed at me in a language I couldn’t understand. He was trying to nail me right to that damned car.

  The ceramic plate in the front of my vest stopped his bayonet. My rifle was hanging uselessly on its sling. My left hand fell to my side and found the grip of my .44 Magnum. I brought it up, pushed it forward, and let it roar. The fanatical soldier’s head exploded into mush and the pressure on my chest was gone as he collapsed to the ground.

  I raised the gun higher, putting the glowing tritium front sight on the gap, and fired off five more shots in rapid succession as more men tried to squeeze through. At least two of them fell, landing on top of other dead bodies.

  I took the second I’d just bought myself to duck behind the car. I opened the revolver’s cylinder, held it muzzle-up, and punched the ejector rod with the heel of my left hand. Hot brass tinkled on concrete as I grabbed a speedloader from my vest, rotated the gun muzzle-down, and twisted six fresh rounds into the cylinder. I snapped it closed and reholstered it.

>   Two Exodus troops took cover next to me behind the old car. The other element had caught up with us. “We need to close that gap!” I shouted, pointing over the hood of the car. They nodded in affirmation as I stood up to move.

  I raised my carbine again, approaching the gap cautiously. My bayonet led the way as I stepped over bodies and vehicle parts. My nostrils were clogged with soot and smoke. The heat of the fire was making me sweat through my parka. I stumbled on a dead man’s leg as I approached and nearly fell.

  I looked up just in time to see a skinny enemy soldier in a green coat several sizes too big for him lunge through the gap. He charged through so fast, jumping over the bodies of his fallen comrades, that he crashed right into me. I pushed him back and plunged my bayonet deep into his guts. He screamed like a wild animal, dropping the bag of hand grenades he was carrying. I brought a boot up and kicked him off of my rifle, sending him flailing back. He hit the wall at the north edge of the dam, leaving my bayonet smeared with blood. I tried to stab him again, but he was too fast. He grabbed my rifle as I lunged and pulled it past him. Freakishly strong, the wounded fanatic pulled me right into him.

  He was screaming at me as we met, face to face. His frothy spittle spattered against my eyepro as he tried to wrap his fingers around my throat. His breath stunk of gruel. He hardly had any teeth.

  I slammed my elbows down on top of his forearms, breaking his chokehold on me. Grabbing his coat with my right, I viciously jabbed him in the face with my left fist, over and over again. I knocked out one of his few teeth, then punched him right in the goddamn eye.

  Seizing the opportunity, I grabbed his coat with both hands. Grunting, I lifted the skinny fanatic up and shoved him over the edge. I ran to the wall and looked down, just in time to see him crash to the ice of the frozen reservoir, twenty feet below. He landed on his back in a puff of snow and didn’t move.

  God damn. Out of breath, arms and legs shaking from adrenaline, I picked my rifle back up and looped the sling around me. Coughing and hacking in the smoke, I grabbed the skinny guy’s bag of grenades and handed it over to my Exodus comrades. The APC continued to burn, but the sounds of battle began to die down.

  Clearing the narrow gap and the pile of enemy dead, I found myself on the west side of the roadblock. Surrounded by dead bodies were more than a dozen cars and trucks parked haphazardly, many still with the doors open.

  Jesus Christ, I thought to myself. Did we kill them all? That would have been nice, but it wasn’t the case. There were dozens, maybe scores of bodies on the ground here and more on the dam, but plenty of Jihan’s soldiers were still alive. They were just retreating down the hill. That was odd. We hadn’t seen them retreat before.

  “Michael!” It was Ling. Her voice cut through the night like a clarion call. She appeared through the destroyed road block, approached, and squeezed my hand. “I’m so glad you’re still alive.”

  “You too,” I replied, breathing heavily. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. What’s happening?”

  I pointed down the hill. “We didn’t get them all, but they’re retreating. See?” In the moonlight, reflecting brightly in the snow, it was possible to see dozens of figures running down the road, away from us.

  “I don’t understand,” Ling said. “They don’t retreat. They never retreat. Something is wrong. Where is Katsumoto?” I shrugged. Ling stepped around me and jogged along the road block, crossing through it at another one of the openings. “Katsumoto?” she shouted. There was no response.

  “Ling!” It was Skunky. I was relieved to see him. He held his weapon at the low ready as he made his way to her.

  “Where is Katsumoto?” she asked, concern obvious in her voice. “Did he fall?”

  Skunky hesitated for a moment. “No, Ling. He stayed behind. At the dam, I mean.”

  “What? Why? Never mind.” She grabbed her radio and hit the transmit button. “Katsumoto, this is Ling,” she began, ignoring callsigns and protocol. “Where are you?”

  There was no response at first. Ling repeated her query. Then, surrounded by static, Katsumoto’s smooth, calming voice crackled over the radio.

  “My lady,” he said. “I am afraid I chose to stay behind. You are in command now. I apologize for not telling you. It would have been a distraction.”

  Tears welled up at the corners of Ling’s eyes. “Why are you doing this? Your place is here, leading your men! Are you injured?”

  “I am,” he said. “I can barely walk. But I am at peace. Child, my place is here. I have wounded that cannot be moved. There is nothing we can do for them. It is not right that they die alone. It is not right that I ask my brave warriors to lay down their lives if I am not willing to do the same.”

  “This is madness!” Ling insisted. “Come on, there’s still time!”

  “I’m staying here,” Katsumoto replied calmly. “To ensure the demolition goes as planned. I did not ignite the fuse when you left. I wanted to ensure you had enough time to escape, and that the enemy was not able to disarm our explosives.”

  Tears trickled down Ling’s cheeks, almost steaming in the frigid air. “I understand,” she said simply, maintaining her steady demeanor despite the tears.

  “I knew you would. Let me know when you are a safe distance from the dam. Go with God, Song Ling. One day, we will meet again.”

  “Until that day,” Ling agreed. “Go with God.” Ling placed the radio back in its pouch, lowered her head, and took a deep breath.

  She wasn’t given long to cope. Skunky came running up. “Commander! We have a problem here!” It seemed like it took a second for her to realize he was speaking to her when he began with “Commander.” My heart sank into my stomach. I knew it was too good to be true.

  Skunky led us back through the roadblock, into the mess of vehicles that Jihan’s soldiers had left behind. A kilometer down the hill, through the darkness, a stream of headlights pierced the night as many trucks turned to go up the hill. The enemy hadn’t been retreating. They were regrouping and waiting for reinforcements.

  I looked back across the carnage. There were few of us left, and we were already cut off. We were out of time.

  Chapter 22: The Digging

  of Graves

  LORENZO

  Sala Jihan’s Fortress

  March 26th

  “How many of these motherfuckers are there?” Anders shouted as bullets zipped through the air over our heads. The big man waited a moment, then jumped up and fired his stolen AK47 back in the direction of the enemy.

  “Apparently lots,” I grunted as I leaned around the wall and fired several rounds into the nearest bunker’s doorway. The slave soldiers inside hunkered down as my rounds ricocheted harmlessly past them. I wasn’t going to hit anyone. I already knew that. I was just trying to keep their heads down for a moment. Roland used that opportunity to cover the distance, get a better angle, and hurl a grenade through the door.

  There was a resounding crash as the Russian frag detonated. One of the soldiers inside started screaming. Phillips limped around the corner, hung his Tavor inside, fired two rounds and the noise stopped.

  We had been fighting for what seemed like forever against a neverending stream of men. I would have run out of ammo for my ACR a while ago, except that Anders’ 416 had been shot out of his hands and I had taken the rest of his magazines. Shen had a flesh wound across his hip, and Phillips had twisted his ankle, but other than that, my team was surprisingly fine. I couldn’t even begin to calculate how many people we had shot to get this far.

  “Chief, you’re only thirty meters from the prison,” Reaper told me. “There’s one more squad of soldiers ahead of you. Maybe a dozen of them.”

  “Okay, how’s the center holding?” The gunfire from the Exodus perimeter around the choppers was sporadic now. The soldiers had fought with suicidal intensity, but Exodus had held.

  “Just pockets of soldiers keep throwing themselves at the silo. Ibrahim’s pulled the perimeter around so that mos
t of Exodus is there covering the assault team. There’s just one team guarding the chopper and the wounded. I’m feeding info to Fajkus, and he’s moving his guys around to intercept any soldiers as they get close. But I think most of them are dead.”

  News like that made me really glad that I had dropped almost a million dollars into Little Bird. It was like my own personal spy satellite. “How about reinforcements?”

  “I was able to jam the radio signals from the compound when the attack began, but somehow the soldiers at the mine knew anyway. There’s a column of trucks coming up the road now. Fajkus sent one team to stall them at the front gates. Those bastards are going to have a real hard time getting through those big ass gates. But . . .”

  “What?”

  It wasn’t Reaper that responded, rather it was Jill. “I’ve been listening to the local radio chatter while Reaper’s been playing flight simulator, and I haven’t gotten anything from town.”

  “At all?” Kat’s mercenaries should have assaulted the Brothers and the garrison in town by now.

  “Nothing. Especially nothing about a battle in The Crossroads.”

  “Shit,” I muttered. Diego must have chickened out. Which meant that we had a bunch more bad guys in town coming to help.

  “And there’s something going down at the dam. There’s a big fight going on there that Exodus didn’t tell us about. Lots of vehicles went that way from the mine, too.”

  What? Talk about biting off more than they could chew. What the hell was Exodus thinking? “Okay, be ready for anything.”

  “Love ya. Bye.” It wasn’t proper radio etiquette, but I liked Jill’s methods better. Jill and Reaper were stationed well out of town, using a vehicle that we had bought on the down low. I didn’t trust any of the sides here, and wanted my own ace in the hole. Nobody but me knew where they were parked.

  “Anders, we’ve got maybe a dozen between us and the prison.” I flexed my aching hands. The insides of the wool gloves were stained with red, and I figured that quite a bit of it was mine.