Page 102 of Clive Cussler Ghost Soldier
“I’m getting that flag. You’re waiting here.”
“I’m the older brother—”
“By two minutes.”
“I promised Mama I’d watch out for you.”
“Then we’ll go together.” The two men gripped their Polish bullpup Grot carbines.
“Let’s go.”
The two fighters stood, exchanged a fatalistic smile, and bolted out of the jungle toward the flag.
Running full tilt, the two Poles got within two hundred meters of the flag with Jakub in the lead. A loudcracksnapped a hundred meters farther overhead. A puff of black smoke marked the location of the explosion. Unharmed by the strange burst, the two war veterans ignored the blast and raced forward with Jakub lengthening his lead. Seventy meters later—
Boom!Jakub’s left foot was torn away from his ankle by a mine, cartwheeling him into the dirt in a shower of arterial blood.
The younger Pole screamed as Pawel crashed down beside him. He ripped open his medical kit and grabbed a tourniquet.
“Shut up, idiot,” Pawel said in a harsh whisper. “You’ll only draw fire.” He cinched the tourniquet hard to stop the bleeding.
Jakub fought the scream through clenched teeth. He breathed heavily to calm himself.
“Leave me—”
“Don’t be stupid,” Pawel said as he wrapped the bloody stump in QuikClot combat gauze, his eyes scanning the area. “Mama would kill me.”
Somehow Jakub managed a snorting laugh.
“Yeah, she would.”
Pawel hit Jakub with an auto-injector loaded with ketamine to kill the pain. He’d be high as a kite in moments, but the pain would be dulled.
Pawel stood. Despite the fact they were identical twins, Jakub had always been faster, while Pawel was stronger. Pawel helped Jakub up to his one unsteady leg, then lifted him onto his shoulders with a grunt.
“The flag…”
“Forget the flag,” Pawel said. “We’ve got to get you stabilized.” The towheaded Pole turned and headed back for the tree line from where they came in a steady, plodding march.
A hundred meters into their retreat, another explosion cracked overhead and directly in their path.
Pawel instinctively dropped to his knees, his brother out cold from the drugs. He scanned the area, saw nothing. His heart raced. He knew they were being watched. Out here they were exposed. His best shot was getting the two of them back to the tree line.
Pawel stood up with his brother still draped around his shoulders, grunting with the effort like an Olympic dead-lifter. He shifted Jakub’s weight around to get more comfortable, then began jogging toward the trees. Something told him to change directions slightly, and he sped off at a forty-five-degree angle from his original course. It would take him longer to get under cover, but no telling what was waiting for them straight ahead—
BOOM!
The explosion tore away Pawel’s booted foot with a snapping, bear-trap crunch. His wounded leg collapsed and the two brothers tumbled into the dirt—
BOOM!Jakub’s forehead hit another mine, blowing open his skull like a confetti cannon, splattering Pawel in blood and brain matter.
“Jakub!” Pawel screamed as he clawed at his brother’s lifeless body. It was no use. He was gone.
Pawel reached with trembling hands for his medical kit to treat his own wound, but his eyes were fast clouding. His fumbling fingers couldn’t grip the tourniquet pack. His blood pressure plunged and his heart fluttered. He suddenly felt cold, and very tired.
He took a deep breath and shut his eyes to rest for a moment until he could try again for the tourniquet. All he needed was a minute to gather his strength. His moment of rest quickly slipped into unconsciousness. The two Poles lay in a widening pool of their commingling blood.
Minutes later, he joined his brother in whatever afterlife awaited them both.
