Page 28 of Skull

Down below, muzzle flashes lit the cramped passageways as GQ fired at any hostile leaning over balconies to target Strekoza. The gunmen scattered. Some ducked into doorways, others returned wild shots that ricocheted off rusted metal.

Boomer sighted another figure creeping behind a busted water tower overhead—right above Strekoza’s position. The hostile was lining up a shot with a worn AK. Boomer’s heart thumped. If the assailant got a bead on her…

He exhaled, steadied his aim, and squeezed the trigger. One suppressed crack. The man toppled back, disappearing from sight, giving Strekoza an opening to move.

She glanced around, spotted Boomer, then signaled with a quick nod—acknowledgment that she was safe for the moment. Without missing a beat, she vaulted over a gap to the next roof, clearing the distance in a single bound. The metal beneath her groaned but held. Each time she landed, she kept that pistol leveled, scanning for the next threat.

Another burst of gunfire from below. GQ was drawing heat. “We got more hostiles flooding in from the north alley!” he barked. “Boomer, you good up top?”

“Still covering Strekoza,” Boomer replied, eyeing the silhouettes that flickered through his scope. Another target tried to climb onto the roof behind her. Two shots from Boomer, and the hostiles were down.

Strekoza’s voice crackled in his earpiece. “I’m heading north, the target’s this way.” She paused—probably checking her six. “Thanks for the assist, guys. Stay on comms!”

She broke into another sprint, bounding across overlapping sheets of dented tin that threatened to buckle under her weight. Boomer kept firing short bursts to discourage anyone from stepping into her path as he followed her. Meanwhile, GQ kept the side alleys in check, lighting them with muzzle flashes whenever a hostile popped up.

In less than a minute, Strekoza vanished around a makeshift chimney on a higher roof, pursuing their objective with single-minded determination. The night fell briefly still around Boomer, leaving only the echo of gunfire from somewhere deeper in the shantytown.

He took a breath, adjusted his position, and signaled GQ, “I’m shifting rooftops, going after her to keep overhead cover. You hold down below. Copy?”

“Copy,” came GQ’s reply, clipped but steady.

Boomer glanced once more at the two dead men Strekoza had left sprawled on the tin. Most of the threat was neutralized. Then he pushed onward, carefully crossing to the edge of the roof. From there, he had to figure a way over to Strekoza without plunging two stories to the broken pavement below.

The mission was still on a razor’s edge, but at least Strekoza was making headway—thanks to her own deadly skill, GQ’s cover below, and Boomer doing his best from above. They could only hope it was enough to secure her target before the entire shantytown rose against them.

He jumped the gap and finally caught up to her. She was standing on the edge of the roof transfixed by something in the distance. When he came alongside her, his breath caught, and he swore. He keyed his comm. “Ice, we’ve got a technical coming in. The HVT is heading toward some vehicles, but Hummingbird is coming up on him fast. If that fifty-cal monster intersects with her, she’s a goner.”

“Copy that. Haul ass to us. We’ll get her covered. Move!”

He looked at Strekoza who was already starting to climb rapidly down to GQ’s position while he covered them both. “Copy. We’re hauling ass.” They hit the ground running.

Skull roundedthe corner of the narrow backstreet only steps behind Walker just in time to see her, Bones close on her heels, stopping and searching frantically. It looked like they had lost sight of their HVT in the maze of shanties. Skull could see her chest heaving with her ragged breathing, and the dog’s anxious panting as he scanned the chaotic streets.

He’d banked his anger for later. Now was not the time to let it cloud his judgment or derail this op. She had gone off the rails again, put them all into danger that Iceman would have mitigated if she had been patient and waited. She would need to be read the riot act when this was all over, if they survived.

Suddenly, the roar of an engine cut through the din. A battered sedan burst from around the corner, the HVT in the passenger seat, bodyguards crammed in the back firing at them through the open windows. Tires screeched as they tore away down the debris-strewn road. Without hesitation, Walker shouted an expletive and sprinted toward a parked motorcycle. Bones bounded alongside, tense with anticipation.

Skull watched as she swung a leg over the bike, revved the engine, relentless in her pursuit. She patted a space in front of her and Bones jumped up, draping himself across the engine. Her petite form looked too small for the big bike, but she gunned the throttle, tearing off after the fleeing HVT. Garbage and debris scattered under her tires. The woman was a menace, and even with his white-hot suppressed anger, he was grateful she was on their side.

The sedan fishtailed through the tight confines of the shantytown street, gravel spitting up in a shower behind the rear wheels. Hummingbird quickly disappeared down the street, weaving through a row of half-collapsed shacks after the fleeing sedan, both vehicles heading for the open road that led out of town.

A handful of yards behind her, Skull pressed a hand to his radio. Cursing under his breath, he activated his comm. “Ice, the target is on the move in a gray four-door sedan! Hummingbird’s in pursuit and has commandeered a bike.” His voice rasped over the line, breathless and urgent. “I’m going after them!”

He dashed to a second motorcycle, a dusty enduro model leaning against a graffiti-splashed wall near a ramshackle storefront. He was lucky to find a working machine in this mess of a community. Before he could even mount it, a technical—a pickup with a mounted machine gun—lurched out of a side alley, blocking the road. Skull glimpsed the barrel pivot toward him, eyes widening as muzzle flashes flickered. Ear-splitting, piping hot rounds chewed up the dirt at his feet, sending shards of broken pavement spinning into the air. “Contact!” Skull shouted into the comm as he dove behind a nearby metal trash container, heart thudding.

At the same moment, Ice barked, “Skull, find cover! We see them!”

Gunshots erupted further down the street as Iceman, Preacher, Kodiak, and Breakneck unleashed an assault on the technical. The mounted gunner swiveled the muzzle toward the threat, opened fire, peppering bullets across the asphalt. Plumes of smoke and dust formed a screen around the pickup, the machine gunner struggling to keep aim.

The firefight was deafening. Seizing the moment, Skull bolted toward the motorcycle. He vaulted into the saddle, taking off before he was fully balanced. Bullets pocked the ground and dinged off nearby scrap metal, but the tide of gunfire from his teammates kept the technical’s turret off him just enough to break clear.

“Moving now!” he shouted into the mic, the engine’s roar and the gunfire almost drowning out his voice.

“Cease fire,” Ice shouted as Skull shifted gears, navigating the narrow gap, ducking down to avoid the line of fire. Rubber squealed as he whipped around the truck’s flank. The bike sped past the pickup truck. He twisted the throttle, and the motorcycle’s engine snarled as he gained more speed, now fully stable on the leather seat. Concrete chipped at his heels, and shards of shattered pavement clattered against the bike’s frame.

In Skull’s earpiece, Iceman barked a rapid series of orders. Moments later, Boomer, GQ, and Strekoza emerged from behind a row of corrugated-metal stalls, letting loose precise bursts of suppressive fire, joining in the assault. The machine-gunner had no time to swivel his turret before a storm of 5.56 rounds ricocheted against the truck, killing the driver and causing the vehicle to swerve erratically.

The critically damaged technical roared behind him, but the team hammered it with relentless fire from their positions. With the driver dead and caught in a lethal crossfire, the truck jerked sideways and smashed into an abandoned cart. Flames licked around the hood as the SEALs closed in.

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