Page 44 of Enemy of My Enemy
Adam spun them around, still back to back, and shot rounds into the sand at the encroaching rebels’ feet, trying to force them back. Most leaped away but brandished their own weapons and bellowed in Arabic, calling them American pigs and promising a painful, slow death.
“Run at the machete dealer. Shoot him and use the blades to leap the stall. Grab one and clear a path to the camels. Cut them all free. Get one and go. Ride south, hard and fast.”
“And you?”
“I’ll cover you.”
Adam exhaled, and his sweat-slick hands gripped his M4. There was no way he’d get out of there, but he could cover Doc.
This was it. He’d be dead in moments.Hisdamn smile flashed through Adam’s mind once again, but he let it stay, hovering there behind his eyes.If only.
“Fuck that.” Doc reached over Adam’s head and grabbed his vest through his robes, jerking hard and spinning him around. He fired, spraying the crowd of rebels with gunfire. Men screamed, falling to the ground as bullets tore through them. Chaos erupted.
Through the chaos, Cook whipped out a handgun and aimed at Adam and Doc.
Doc fired wildly toward Cook and took off, dragging Adam with him toward the machete dealer’s stall. Two bullets to the machete dealer had him dropping to the sand, lifeless. They clambered up the sliding piles of blades, unsteady on their feet, but managed to leap onto the tarp of vegetables as Cook opened fire again.
Three bullets whizzed by Adam’s face, one burning through the cartilage of his ear. Blood poured down his cheek and soaked his keffiyeh.
Adam sprayed a wild burst toward Cook, peppering the market. Dealers ducked, and some of the rebels dove for cover while others fired back at Adam and Doc. Stalls collapsed, and ratty tarps swung from broken boards. Weapons and bodies lay in the blood-soaked sand. Destroyed vegetables lay scattered, limp lettuce, squished tomatoes, and scattered potatoes rolling every which way.
He took a moment to breathe, exhaling hard as he ducked behind a narrow scrub tree and sought out Cook. Doc cut loose the camels and shouted at them, smacking their asses to get them moving.
Through the shot-up market, Cook leveled his handgun at Adam and smirked again. His finger squeezed down on the trigger.
Adam exhaled, pressed his rifle to his shoulder, and fired first.
Cook ducked, but Adam fired low, and one of his bullets slammed into Cook’s shoulder. Cook dropped, crouching behind a damaged stall and grabbed at his shoulder, his shirt rapidly staining red with blood.
“L-T!” Doc was up on his camel, and he had the reins of another in his hand. “Time to go!”
Adam leaped onto his cranky camel and kicked it hard in the ribs. Snorting, the camel took off, racing south as the rebels in the market tried to chase them. Some ran for the scattered camels as others ran for the trucks, piling in and taking off into the desert on their heels.
The hard-packed sands continued for miles. The trucks would have an easy time chasing them. Desert grit sprayed behind the trucks’ tires, and though some fishtailed wildly, they caught up to Adam and Doc.
Bullets flew past their heads. The camels screamed in protest, stamping the sand, trying to go faster.
Adam grit his teeth and tried to lay low on his camel. Next to him, Doc did the same and sent Adam a frantic, sidelong look.
This is it. Shot in the back on camels. Fucking camels.He prayed it would be quick.
“We’re coming in from the northeast. Got you in our sights. Ride straight, we’ll take out the trash.”
Coleman’s voice broke over the radio, followed by gunfire cracking the air behind him. Gunfire from his team. He barked out a surprised laugh, relief dizzying his head. Doc grinned.
Coleman and his team ran at his and Doc’s pursuers on their camels, flanking the convoy and sniping the drivers and shooters out of the open cabins. Swerving, three trucks crashed into each other and one flipped. The last slammed on its brakes, throwing sand, and the rebels scattered, some trying to return fire and others running to the crashed vehicles.
Coleman’s team swept by, finishing off the rebels before swinging up behind Adam and Doc. Hooves pounded and grit sprayed behind the team as they drove their camels as fast as they could in a sprint for the south.
“Good timing, Sergeant.”
Coleman stayed quiet while their team rode hard in a wide line, heading for Al-Fashir.
“What now, L-T?” Doc still had a worried look in his eyes and a deep frown creased his forehead. His keffiyeh flopped in the wind behind him, unwrapped from his face as they rode.
He knew what he had to do. He knew who he had to call. He’d known, somehow, that this would be how it would eventually turn out. He couldn’t escape, not at all, from the universe’s cruel forces.
He almost dropped the sat phone when he tugged it from his vest.
