the realization they were invaders. He lifted his gun and McPherson aimed and took him out in one shot. Yes, he had a suppressor, but even with the high-tech unit on his gun, a noise was made, a noise that anyone in that area would know. It didn’t take long for a couple more guards to rush into the area where the first shot had sounded. They were met with the same fate as the first guard.
McPherson swung the door open. “Time’s up,” he called to Beecher and Jones. “Let’s move out!”
All eight of them and one unconscious, sheet-wrapped terrorist who was slung over Smoke’s shoulder converged on one door, sliding through it as smoothly as if they’d planned this exit strategy.
Brulenski and Osborne veered off from the group. One of them went to the left, and the other to the right of the group — allowing the other six men to pass without being in the line of fire. The two of them knelt on a single knee and engaged in firing at the guards — the unskilled men didn’t have a chance against the highly trained team.
Brulenski and Osborne stayed in their position for two minutes, which was an incredibly long time with bullets flying at them. As soon as the two-minute timer went off in their internal clock, they stopped firing, jumped up, and began running in the direction of the teammates they’d been covering.
As Brulenski and Osborne ran to catch up to their team, a barrage of rocket-propelled grenades zipped past them, causing explosions in the tree, and giving the enemy too much light to see their position. Several trees caught fire, and some of them blew apart as they ran past. Rounds from machine gun bullets started ripping up clumps of dirt too close to the men as they caught up to the rest of their team. The path they’d planned to take out was closed off with a wall of fire as more trees lit up. More rounds of grenades could be heard buzzing toward them before impact was made.
Smoke yelled to his team lead to take the prisoner. When the pass was made, he told the team he and Myer were going to the east side of the building and that Brulenski and Osborne were to take the west side. The four of them would link up and make it to the extraction zone after they were finished. Beecher, Jones, and Wells were to follow McPherson, and get the terrorist and all of the data to the extraction spot immediately.
McPherson agreed with the plan, and even though he was team lead he wasn’t above giving his teammate the ability to come up with operational ideas in the heat of the moment. They didn’t want to lose a single member of their team, and they’d never let ego jeopardize one another.
“Let’s go on three . . .” Smoke began when James held up a hand. “What?” He was in a hurry and wanted to get started. He wanted the hell out of there.
“Love ya, son,” James said with a wink at Smoke. Another grenade went off far too close to them. Leave it to their team lead to make a joke in the middle of hell. But then again, it’s how they survived this crap when they were back in the real world. If they truly lived in these moments it might make them all go a little insane.
“I love you too, Dad.” He looked at the rest of the team holding up his fingers, pulling down the third, the second, and then the last one. They began to run, but Smoke smiled evilly just before he took off, throwing out one last jab that James didn’t get a chance to respond to before Smoke was gone.
Brulenski and Osborne were a well-oiled machine. A duo that had worked together for years, knowing when to move, when to stay, and how to communicate. They easily found and ended two of the men who were shooting a seemingly endless supply of the rocket-propelled grenades. Brulenski was able to get close enough to throw an M67 grenade next to the RPG launcher, instantly disabling it. The night quieted immensely after that.
Smoke and Myer made quick work of seven more men before the enemy could react to this new attack. They’d been expecting the team to keep running, not circle back to take them out. Another stream of men came around the corner, firing toward the burning trees.