He pulled a flash-bang grenade from the belt on his chest, pulled the ring, and pitched it down the hall. The phosphorus-filled grenade exploded with a tremendous blast of light and heat and sound.
Several men screamed and ran from their hiding places, their hands over their eyes and ears.
Harley and Hammer’s shotguns boomed, knocking the men to the floor and stopping their screaming.
Anna whirled and let go with her Uzi, killing two more men who had come out of a closet behind Harley and Hammer.
Harley glanced around, then down at Anna. “That’s one I owe you,” he said.
“I’ll make sure to collect when we have more time,” she said, keeping an eye out for more guards.
Ben eased around Harley and Hammer and made his way down the hall while they covered him. He checked each and every office and room along the way, making sure they were all empty.
Sudden shots rang out and he dived to the side, a furrow of blood appearing along his shoulder and neck from two near misses.
Corrie and Beth stepped into the doorway the shots came from and sprayed the room with their Uzis, not bothering to aim, just waving the machine guns back and forth as if they were watering the grass with a hose.
Harsh guttural screams rang out from two guards that were blown back against the wall, their blood splattering the adobe walls as 9mm bullets pocked the walls and raised a cloud of dust and cordite in the room.
Finally, the third floor was cleared of defenders, each room checked and found to be empty—all except the presidential quarters at the end of the hall. There were large, wooden double doors with a bronze sign on them reading EL PRESIDENTE.
“Looks like the rats are finally trapped in their hole,” Harley said to Ben as they surveyed the corridor leading to the last room on the floor.
“Take cover,” Ben said as he pulled a fragmentation grenade from his pack. “Time to call the dance.”
After everyone was hidden in doorways along the corridor, he pulled the pin, rolled the grenade up against the double doors, and ducked into a room.
The grenade exploded, tearing the doors off their hinges and shattering them into ruin. Jim Strunk and Paco Valdez, who’d evidently been hiding behind the doors, stumbled into the hallway, their skin flayed and bleeding and full of splinters as they sprayed the hallway with machine-guns they held in their hands.
Harley and Hammer leaned out of their doorways and fired their shotguns at point-blank range. The two men’s bodies were lifted off their feet and blown ten feet back into the presidential quarters. They landed and rolled into a crumpled heap, dead before they hit the highly polished marble floor.
Through the doorway, several desks could be seen pushed up near the wall to form a barricade. Four men could be seen hiding behind the desks, their heads barely visible in the darkened room.
“You might as well come out,” Ben said. “Your armies have been defeated and there is nowhere else for you to run.”
“Chinga tu madre!” Perro Loco screamed as he leapt over the desk, a sawed-off pump shotgun in his arms. He fired and pumped and fired, screaming curses in Spanish as he bolted for the door.
Ben stepped out into the corridor, unmindful of the roaring shotgun, and extended his arm. He fired one shot with his Beretta 9mm automatic.
The bullet struck Perro Loco dead center in his forehead, snapping his head back and flinging him to the floor, where he lay with open eyes staring into eternity, his smoking shotgun next to his body.
Jersey stepped to Ben’s side. “Nice shot, Boss,” she said, holding her Uzi at waist level in case any more madmen appeared.
“Hold your fire! I give up!” a man yelled through the smoke that billowed in the room.
Sergei Bergman walked around the desk and toward the doorway, his hands in the air.
Just before he reached the door, a figure stood up behind him and aimed a pistol at his back. “You coward!” Rudolf Hessner screamed, and fired, hitting Bergman between the shoulder blades and catapulting him onto his face.
Jersey didn’t hesitate. Without aiming, she pulled the trigger on her Uzi and spun Hessner around twice before he too was dead, his body draped over the desk.
When the firing stopped, another voice called, “I am coming out. Do not shoot!”
Ben’s team gathered in the doorway as Bruno Bottger stepped around from behind the desk, his hands in the air, his holster at his side empty.
When he was in the center of the room, Ben stood before him. “Bruno Bottger, I’m going to enjoy watching you swing at the end of a rope for the war crimes you’ve committed.”
Ben turned his back and began to walk away.
“Ben, look out!” Jersey screamed, unable to get a clear shot as Bottger reached behind his back, pulled a Luger pistol out of his belt, and aimed it at Ben’s back.
“Die, Ben Raines!” Bottger screamed as he began to pull the trigger.
In one fluid motion, Ben jerked his K-Bar assault knife from the scabbard on his belt, whirled, and threw it backhand at Bottger.
The knife buried itself to the hilt in Bottger’s neck, severing his spinal cord and killing him instantly. As his body crumpled to the ground, Ben stood over him.
“Never talk when you should be shooting, asshole,” he muttered to the dead man.
FORTY-ONE
A month later, General Jose Guerra, now known as El Presidente Guerra, paid a visit to Ben’s office in Louisiana.
He entered the office accompanied by Dr. Larry Buck. He stepped directly to Ben’s desk and held out his hand. “I am here to thank you on behalf of my people for all you have done, General Raines.”
Ben stood up and took his hand. “It was my pleasure, Mr. President.”
“The plague is at last under control in Mexico, Ben,” Dr. Buck said. “There’ve been no new cases reported for the past week or so.”
“How many did you lose, President Guerra?” Ben asked, sadness in his voice.
The president shrugged. “The total is not known as of yet, but it is a surety that the numbers would have been much greater without the assistance of the medical teams your country sent to aid us.”
“We were all lucky,” Ben said. “Were it not for the bravery of two of my soldiers, we would all have been caught unawares by the plague.”
President Guerra nodded. “I will say a prayer for them at Mass tomorrow.” He gave a quick bow of his head and left the room.
Ben glanced at Buck. “Speaking of heroes, how is Coop doing with his wound?” he asked.
Buck laughed. “Quite well, actually. He’s got Jersey convinced he has to be hand-fed his meals and requires a back rub at least twice a day.”
Ben grinned. “The way I hear it, she won’t leave his side because she’s afraid he’ll make a pass at one of the nurses.”
“God help Coop, and the nurse, if that happens,” Buck said, shaking his head.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
For those readers interested in facts, the following are the specifications of the weapons and aircraft used in Warriors from the Ashes:
Ben carries a CAR (Carbine, Assault Rifle), 5.56 caliber. It is a shortened version of the M-16. Because of the shortened barrel, a Bloop Tube (which fits under the barrel of an M-16 and fires a 40mm rifle grenade) cannot be used on a CAR. His side arm is a Beretta 9mm. Ben will occasionally use an M-14, which he calls his Thunder Lizard. It’s a shoulder-pounding bitch on full auto, and is 7.62 mm, which is the equivalent of .308 caliber in civilian ammo. The CAR, just like the M-16 and M-14, uses a 20- or 30-round magazine.
Uzi: aka: Mini-Uzi, Micro Uzi:
Origin: Israel 1952
Caliber: 9x19 mm
Feed device: 20-, 32-, and 40-round detachable box magazine
Action: Recoil, selective fire
Sights: Open
Length: 64 cm (46 cm with stock folded)’
Muzzle velocity: 403 M/S
Rate of fire: 650 rounds per minute
Fairchild A-10 Warthog:
Weapons: 30mm cannon in nose, also fires laser- or TV-guided missiles
Length overall: 16.26 m (53 ft 4 in)
Wing span: 17.53 m (57 ft 6 in)
Max. speed at sea level: 381 knots
Combat radius: 463 km (290 miles)
Maximum weapons load: 7257 kg (7 tons, 320 lbs)
Takeoff distance: 1219 m (4000 ft)
Boeing/Bell V-22 Osprey:
Crew: 3 (pilot, copilot, crew chief)
Length: 57 ft 3 in (17.5 m)
Rotor diameter: 38 ft (11.58 m)
Max. speed: 185 knots (helicopter mode), 275 knots (airplane mode)
Range: 2100 nautical miles
Load: 20,000 pounds
Wing span: 45 ft 10 in (13.75 in)
General Dynamics F-111 Aardvark:
Length: 22.4 m (73 ft 6 in)
Wing span: 19.2 m (63 ft)
Max. speed at sea level: 793 knots
Combat radius: 1480 km (920 miles)
Max. weapons load: 11,340 kg (11 tons, 360 lbs)
Takeoff distance: 914 m (3000 ft)
* * *
McDonnel Douglas AH-64 Apache:
Length: 17.76 m (56 ft 3 in)
Rotor diameter: 14.63 m (48 ft)
Max. speed: 155 knots
Range: 482 km (300 miles)
Standard weapon load: M230 30 mm Chain Gun; 6 Hellfire antitank missiles
Bell OH-58 Kiowa:
Length: 12.49 m (41 ft)
Rotor diameter: 10.77 m (35 ft 4 in)
Max. speed: 120 knots
Range: 491 km (305 miles)
Standard weapon load: 7.62 or 20 mm Minigun plus antitank missiles
Boeing Helicopters Ch-47 Chinook:
Length: 30.18 m (98 ft 11 in)
Rotor diameter: 18.29 m (60 ft)
Max. speed: 138 knots
Range: 370 km (230 miles)
Load: 44+ troops or 12.700 kg (12 tons, 1120 lbs)
Bell AH-1 HueyCobra:
Length: 16.18 m (53 ft)
Rotor diameter: 13.41 m (44 ft)
Max. speed: 123 knots
Range: 507 km (315 miles)
Standard weapon load: 8 TOW antitank missiles; 1 3-barreled 20mm cannon; 2 unguided rocket or cannon pods
* * *
McDonnel Douglas OH-6 Defender:
Length: 9.4 m (30 ft 10 in)
Rotor diameter: 8.03 m (26 ft 4 in)
Max. speed: 119 knots
Range: 428 km (265 miles)
Standard weapon load: 20mm Minigun
Bill Johnstone likes to hear from his readers. You can e-mail him at [email protected]
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2001 by William W. Johnstone
Cover design by Open Road Integrated Media
ISBN 978-1-4976-3053-6
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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New York, NY 10014
www.openroadmedia.com
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Warriors from the Ashes Page 28
