Page 153 of Whisper
The burst in from all sides, two teams shattering windows and tumbling in, snaking left and right. The front and rear teams demolished the doors and dove in, weapons up and ready to fire, shouting at the top of their lungs.
“Allahu Akbar!” Gunshots rang out. Bullets whizzed past their heads.
They ducked, diving behind walls and crawling on the floor. The mosque wasn’t large. A main floor space for the male congregants, and a balcony for the women, with a rickety wooden staircase. Windows were the only source of light. A minbar rose at the rear wall for the imam to pray, to teach from. A cutout next to it led to another room.
“Eight hostiles.”
“Three on the balcony.”
“Three on the main floor.”
“No eyes on the other two.”
The team called out targets as bullets popped and snapped, cracking into the walls and whizzing through the air. The jihadis seemed to spray bullets in their direction, long bursts of automatic gunfire.
They took their time, zeroing on each fighter before popping off three quick shots.
“One down.”
“One down.” A body dropped from the balcony above, hitting the mosque floor like a dropped watermelon.
Across the mosque, a fighter raced for the doorway behind the minbar. Shots followed his footsteps, chasing him, but he ducked into the darkness and skittered away.
They tried to follow. More shots rang out, chipping at the mudbrick beside their heads and pinning them back in place.
“They’re here! They’re inside the mosque!” Farrohk, breathless, slid to a stop in front of Al Jabal.
“Good. You know what to do.” Al Jabal passed Farrohk his rifle and held out a videotape. Farrohk took the tape and nodded. “Bismillah.”
“Allahu Akbar, brother,” Al Jabal grinned. He pointed to the bloody lump on the ground. “Now, help me move him.”
“Do you smell that?”
Kris’s heart seized.
“Smoke. Something’s burning.” The soldier coughed. “Fuck, it stinks.”
He tried to drag in another breath, tried to keep standing. Everything inside of him wanted to collapse, wanted to scream and wail and jump into the monitor, leap into the fight and run to David. Fight with his bare hands, run through the bullets, tear apart the mosque until he found David. Bring himback.
“The smoke is coming from the back room.”
“We have to get back there, now.”
“Fuck this,” the team leader growled. “Grenade!” He tossed a grenade toward the last of the fighters, clustered together behind the minbar. The team ducked, and seconds later, the minbar exploded in a burst of light and sound, wood and brick flying through the air. Debris pelted the team, bursts of hail battering the command center over the radio. Kris flinched.
The gunshots had ceased. Silence filled the mosque.
The team rose. On-screen, black, thick smoke hung in the air, crawling up the walls and undulating along the ceiling. “We’ve got thick, dark smoke,” the team leader called. “It reeks. Something terrible is burning.”
No. No, no, no, no.Kris’s thoughts devolved to one word. A litany, a prayer, over and over.No. No. No.
Slowly, the team moved through the mosque, coughing with each step. The video feed grew darker, hazier. Obscured.
“Moving to the rear room now.”
Footsteps, in the smoke. Gunshots. Cursing.
“Allahu Akbar!” More gunshots, and a man rushing toward the team, in the center of the video feed.
