Lethal Game (GhostWalkers 16)

When all the enemy were dead, Malichai and Rubin snuck back to camp. Above the bunkers were caves where they were concerned that more of the enemy lived, so they didn’t dare blow up the weapons. They disabled the larger ones and made their way back, arriving just before the helicopter was due.

Malichai indicated to Braden and the others that he wanted them silent as they made their way up the slope to the rendezvous point with the helicopter. They didn’t want to make any noise at all and tip off any of the enemy who might be staying in the caves that they were escaping.

Rubin took Jerry on his shoulders. He’d been given painkillers, but it still had to hurt like hell. Rubin didn’t say anything or ask questions, he just started up the slope. The moment he had traveled a few feet, a barrage of deadly fire hit just below them. Rubin caught Jerry in his arms and dove for cover.

Malichai swore. That answered the question whether or not there were more in the caves. Or at least, someone had showed up and discovered the dead.

“Shit,” Malichai hissed. “We missed a few.”

“That’s impossible,” Rubin denied, but he had his rifle out and ready after securing Jerry.

“I’ll get them out of there.” There was no choice. If they were going to get the wounded into the helicopter, they would have to make it safe for the helicopter to put down. Malichai had no choice, he had to go.

Braden shook his head. “You’re crazy, man. You can’t face that kind of firepower.”

“Do you have any better ideas?” Malichai asked. His gaze was on bunker two. The bunker was positioned to cover the mountain from almost any angle. Naturally, the enemy would have set up there. They didn’t need the other bunkers in order to control the entire area. He had to clear that bunker and get rid of the weapons. There was no point in hesitating. He had to do it now, before the helicopter decided it was too risky and left them and before any more of the enemy decided to show themselves—if there were any more. Wouldn’t they already be out in force if there were? He couldn’t think about that.

Without further preamble, he left the safety of the boulders, sprinting from his position down the slope toward the bunkers. Malichai charged into the gunfire, running low, using a zigzag pattern with his enhanced speed. He had to leap over larger rocks and go around others. Bullets flew at him, never stopping, hundreds fired from the machine gun, tearing up the ground as he ran. Rocks exploded, sending pieces flying into the air. The bullets whipped around him, ripping at his clothing, tearing holes in the material and slicing pieces of skin. Still, he was up. He was running, his entire mind focused on the task in front of him.

No matter what, he had to silence those weapons. Bunker two contained at least three enemy. Three different weapons were being wielded. They meant business too. The sound was continuous, a booming thunder rolling over top of him, so loud his ears hurt. He had enhanced hearing and no matter how he tried to turn down the volume, with the heavy barrage of murderous machine-gun fire, there was no way to do so.

Mortars hit the ground on two sides of him, nearly simultaneously, letting him know that bunker one had at least one fighter still alive. No way could Rubin and he have missed that many of the enemy, even at night. Reinforcements must have arrived to take over, at least three or four, more likely five. Had they been random? Men arriving? Had they been in the caves? Were there more? He could drive himself crazy wondering.

He dove for cover, rolled and came back up, hurling grenades over the barrier of bunker two. He tossed grenade after grenade into the bunker. The enemy continued to fire at him until the grenades inside the bunker began to explode, one after the other. Bunker one’s fire was continuous, the bullets hitting all around him. One nearly parted his hair. He actually felt it burning along his scalp.

He heard Rubin’s rifle and then the fall of a body in bunker two. It was quieter after that and Malichai took another chance. Ignoring the firepower the enemy threw at him from bunker one, he ran the last few feet and leapt over the barricade, landing in the snow, his weapon ready and tracking, looking for anyone left alive in bunker two.

The smell of blood and death was heavy in the crowded bunker. Shrapnel had torn into bodies, ripping through them, leaving behind bloody shells he knew he wasn’t going to get out of his head for a long time. He had no choice but to wade through the blood and gore to reach the still-intact mortar gun.