Page 62 of The Art of Dying

“Sloan!” Trex called.

From somewhere in the darkness a single shot rang out and then a grunt from the enemy. Another shot, a pause and then three more. One after another, Kushayb’s men hit the floor, sniped with Sloan’s rifle.

“Clear!” Sloan said, still out of sight.

“Get these men out!” Trex barked.

A small team picked up our wounded and carried them downstairs, no longer careful about their boots plodding against the metal.

“Sir, we have incoming,” someone exterior called over comms.

Trex’s eyes danced around the dark room as his mind played through each scenario. “Light security, but they had backup waiting? They knew we were coming.”

“What backup plan is this, sir?” I asked.

“This is the nuclear option. We kill this motherfucker and waste every hostile between here and home.”

“Roger that,” I said, stepping out with Trex.

My weapon jerked violently in my hands as I took out one enemy after another. But soon, our backs were against the wall again.

“Kepner?” Trex called.

Nothing.

“Abrams?” I yelled.

“They’re hit,” Martinez said. “Patchin’ em up as much as I can. Abrams is mobile.”

“Kepner?” Trex asked.

“Negative,” Martinez answer.

Trex closed his eyes. “We’re coming to you. Hold tight.”

Harbinger stepped out first and I followed up, Trex going wide and covering the corners. Abrams was twenty feet away, sitting on his ass, his legs out in front of him. One hand on his gun, the other on Kepner’s neck, and zero fear in his eyes.

“Martinez!” Trex said, shooting his way across to them.

Harbinger and I joined them, and the three of us began helping Martinez slow Kepner’s bleeding.

“They were waiting… they were waiting for us,” Abrams said. His pants had a bullet hole in the thigh, the material soaked in crimson.

I pressed against the wound, and he grunted.

“What is this?” I asked. “A fucking trap? Bad intel?”

“All that matters now is we get our guys home,” Trex said. His eyes met Abrams. “You hear me? You’re going home, brother.

“Copy that,” he said, exhausted.

“You good here?” Trex asked Martinez.

“Bleeding’s slowed. We need to get him out.”

“Get it done,” Trex said. “I’ll be right back. Harbinger?”

“Got your six,” he said, following Trex.

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