Page 44 of Spyder
“Beta team ready,” Prophet’s hushed voice comes over the comm.
And a moment later, Domino’s voice fills my earpiece. “Overwatch in position.”
With all of the pieces in place, I know it’s time. My stomach tightens, my mouth goes dry, and the adrenaline is flowing through me freely.
“All right,” Prophet’s voice sounds. “Alpha team, move in.”
Cosmo gives us all a nod and we start across the open ground, moving low and fast. From the corner of my eye, I see Prophet’s team break cover and close in on the cabin. We’re still about twenty yards from the front door when it suddenly opens, the light from inside spilling out and slicing through the darkness. The man filling the doorway freezes when he sees us, then quickly utters a curse in Spanish and darts back into the cabin, slamming the door behind him.
“Shit. Jig’s up,” Prophet’s voice comes through my earpiece. “Light it up, boys.”
All at once, the air around me crackles with gunfire as we open up on the cabin. Splinters of wood explode and the glass of the windows shatter as our bullets tear through the walls of the cabin. The muzzle flashes of our weapons light up the night, giving it a strobe effect that’s disorienting.
As we all stop to reload, Zavala’s men take advantage of the respite and return fire.
“Take cover!” Cosmo shouts.
There’s not much in the way of cover to take, but everybody is scrambling, running for the cars that are parked to the side of the cabin. I hear the bullets from Zavala’s men pinging and whining off the metal of the vehicles, and then the screaming of at least a couple of our guys who’ve been hit.
“Jinx and Popper are down! Somebody get them to cover!” Prophet’s voice comes over the comm. “Alpha team, lay down cover fire.”
Still huddled behind the cars, we all get to our feet and open fire. Our bullets tear through the walls, forcing the cartel men to take cover themselves. It gives our guys enough time to scramble out and grab hold of Tank and Popper, both of whom look to be alive, but in horrible agony as they writhe in the grip of the men pulling them off the battlefield.
The rest of us duck down behind the cars to reload again, but I lean around the car and see the front door fly open. One of the soldiers comes rushing out, his weapon up and firing. But then, I hear the sharp crack of a single shot, and the cartel soldier’s body jerks and twitches as he falls to the floor of the porch. A pool of dark liquid I know can only be blood forms around him. Another soldier runs out behind him and he suffers the same fate as the first guy. Two for two. Domino’s locked in and he rarely misses.
The door slams shut again, and the men inside apparently get wise to what’s happening out here. But they continue firing from the windows and we continue firing back. We’re in a stalemate here. A real Mexican standoff, so to speak. We need to do something to break this jam and put an end to this. If not, it might not be long before we’re all out of bullets and will need to resort to throwing rocks and sticks at one another. And that’s not really the sort of strong, intimidating message Prophet is hoping to send Zavala with this attack.
“I’ve got an idea,” I say.
Cosmo looks at me, his face pinched and strained. “What are you gonna do?”
“Just cover me.”
“Kid, don’t do somethin’, this is all gonna go to shit. And I’m pretty sure it’ll only piss Zavala off even more, not scare him off. Now, cover me,” I tell him.
I fish a few of the flash-bang grenades I’d stuffed in my pack as an afterthought before we left the compound. I didn’t think I’d actually have to use them, but I’m suddenly grateful I’d brought them anyway. Cosmo looks at the grenades in my hand and shakes his head.
“That’s too much open ground with those fuckers at the windows,” he says.
“Just lay down some cover fire and when these things go off, y’all better get your asses through that door.”
He looks at me with a grim expression on his face but apparently comes to accept the foolishness of my plan. There really is nothing else we can do. Zavala’s men have us pinned down and if we don’t want to go limping back to the clubhouse with our tails between our legs, we’ve got to do something bold. Perhaps even something foolish.
Cosmo keys open the comm. “Cover fire. Give it everything you’ve got and be careful you don’t hit Spyder.”
All at once, every man gets to his feet and starts pouring bullets into the cabin. The cartel men inside duck out of the windows to hide from the hail of fire, so I take off at a low sprint, getting to the side of the cabin without incident. I keep my back pressed tight to the wall and give Cosmo the hand signal to cease fire and the guys all duck back down behind the cars. The silence that follows is sharp and eerie.
Knowing there is no time to waste, I pull the pins on all three flashbangs and give it a three count. Spinning out from the wall, I fire all three through one of the broken windows. I hear the hard thump of them hitting the wooden floor followed by the men inside shouting in Spanish. I can hear the fear in their voices and a moment later, the loud popping of the grenades going off one by one.
I watch as half of our men come sprinting from cover, Monk at the head of the column, weapons at the ready. They kick the door in with the sharp crack of splintering wood and pour inside. I hear half a dozen shots and then everything’s still inside the cabin. There’s a long, strained moment of tension in and around it. Nobody is saying a word, and nothing seems to be moving. My gut clenches tight and I grip my weapon a bit harder.
“Site is secure,” Monk’s voice comes over the comm. “All clear.”
The tension immediately fades as I let out a long breath of relief. Cosmo and the others filter out into the yard in front of the cabin as Monk steps out. Prophet limps over to me, an inscrutable expression on his face. He stands in front of me, a small frown pulling the corners of his mouth down.
“That was reckless, man,” he says. “You could have gotten yourself killed.”
“If I didn’t do anything, this whole op could’ve gone to shit. We came out here to achieve an objective. We had to do whatever it took to get it done,” I say defensively.
