Page 69 of Stand Fast

His lungs strained in the thin air, the muscles in his thighs burning as he pushed himself to run as fast as he could, with Rodriguez pounding over the terrain a few strides behind him. After what seemed like an endless amount of time they reached the ridge and dove over the edge of it.

Panting, Zaid rolled over the far side and crawled back to the lip to peer down at the winding road below so he could find out what the hell was going on. The NIU was retreating in chaos. Several of its members were down, lying strewn across the road and the bottom of the slope.

Then he saw the shooters and his blood ran cold.

“Khan, what do you see from up there?” Hamilton demanded, still pinned behind cover down the slope with the others.

What thefuck? He wasn’t even sure what he was looking at. “The NIU. They’re shooting at each other—and us.” No goddamn wonder they hadn’t been able to figure out where the attack was coming from.

“Say again?”

“They’re fucking shooting at us!”

“Motherfuckers,” Rodriguez muttered, taking aim and firing a few rounds downrange at the men shooting at them from below.

Out of nowhere, Jaliya’s face flashed through Zaid’s mind. She was probably back at the TOC, watching and seeing all this live via satellite or Hamilton’s helmet cam. He thought of his parents back in New Jersey, waiting for his next call or text to tell them he was okay.

This was bullshit. He wasnotdying out here. And neither were any of his guys.

“Maka and Prentiss, you’re up next,” Hamilton said via comms. “On my command. And…go.”

Zaid and Rodriguez opened up on the NIU members firing at them from behind the military trucks as Maka and Prentiss broke from behind cover and raced up the slope. Zaid tagged one guy as he stepped around the back of the last truck. The traitor fell to his knees and keeled over on the road, his weapon still in his hands.

Another target appeared to the left. Zaid aimed and squeezed the trigger just as a round hit the top of the ridge a foot from him. Bits of sand and gravel peppered his right shoulder.

Moments later, Maka and Prentiss made it to the ridge and slid down the far side before scrambling up to join him and Rodriguez.

Freeman and Lockhart darted over the open ground after that, leaving Hamilton, Freeman and Granger still down below.

“You boys got us covered up there?” Hamilton asked, voice tense.

“You know it,” Zaid answered, looking for another target. Until they figured out what the fuck was going on and exactly who the enemy was down there, it was a total shit show.

“Okay, on three,” Hamilton said. “Two. One.Go.”

Their three remaining teammates bolted from their concealed position and scattered as they raced up the hill. Zaid and the others opened up on the trucks from behind the relative safety of the ridge. In his peripheral vision he tracked Freeman rushing toward them.

Two thirds of the way up, Freeman fell.

Shit.

“Freeman’s down.” Zaid’s heart slammed against his ribs as the former SEAL struggled to his feet. Had he been hit?

“I’m not hit,” Freeman said. “But I’m pinned down and can’t move without getting my ass shot off.”

Freeman was totally exposed out there, easy pickings for the fucktards firing from behind the trucks. And Hamilton and Granger were too far away to help him.

Zaid was getting him out of there.

“Cover me,” he yelled over the gunfire, and darted behind the others to the left, angling for the closest concealed position to Freeman.

He could hear someone else moving behind him but didn’t stop to look back. Granger and Hamilton made it to the ridge and jumped over the edge to safety. Zaid kept running, paused only a moment when he reached the spot he’d chosen, and risked a look down the slope with his weapon up, ready to fire. Freeman had found a medium-sized boulder to crouch behind, but he was taking heavy fire.

“You guys ready?” Zaid asked his teammates, loading a fresh mag into his rifle. They were all poised behind the lip of the ridge, weapons aimed downrange.

“Roger that,” Maka replied without looking up from his M4. At the far right of their line, Hamilton was on the radio, hopefully requesting air support.

Zaid looked back down at Freeman, who hadn’t moved, still returning suppressive fire from his spot. Now the NIU survivors were racing up the slope toward FAST Bravo’s position. But how the hell were they supposed to tell friend from foe?

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