Murdock did as he stepped out and moved forward.
“Stop, close enough. You say you’re with the U.S. Navy?”
“Right, the SEALs. We’re specialists in covert projects like this.”
“So, the U.S. brought in these weapons?”
“Yes, but nobody is supposed to know about it.”
“Yeah, but I know about it.” His sub gun came up and centered on Murdock’s chest from six feet away.
“We’re on your side, the government’s side,” Murdock said.
The man with the submachine gun laughed. “You don’t say, brother. Got news for you. We’re not on your side. Knew right away that you weren’t a rebel. Guess why. ’Cause we’re the rebels, and we thank you for the fine weapons and ammunition.” He laughed again, and Murdock saw no chance to get to him or to use the Pup.
“Stand steady, SEAL. Since you’re a warrior, I’ll give you a choice. You want me to kill you quick, or slow? One in the head or two in the belly, so you can moan and scream and go out of your mind with pain? Which one, American Navy SEAL, which one?”
2
Murdock’s mind blasted into hyperspeed selecting and evaluating every move he could make, anything he could do to reverse the situation. Every move and method he thought of came up negative. He was facing death down the barrel of a submachine gun and there wasn’t a thing he could do. Dive left and bring up the Pup. Not a chance he could beat an aimed weapon. Throw the weapon at the rebel? Wouldn’t work, bullets fly faster than a hurled rifle. He stared hard at the smirking rebel.
“Kill me and get promoted to colonel in your ragtag outfit, is that what you want?”
“Better than being a captain. You trying to talk me to death? Won’t work, United States SEAL. I should keep you so we can prove to the world that your country is against us. Might do some good. No, not a chance. Bring me much more pleasure to cut you in half with about twenty rounds.” His white teeth gleamed in the moonlight as he grinned.
“Oh, yeah,” he continued, “and I think the time is about now.”
Murdock heard the horrendous sound of a weapon firing, but he didn’t feel the bullets slam into his body. Then the rebel in front of him grew a splash of blood on his forehead as his body began to jolt backward, his finger still on the trigger of the submachine gun. Murdock dove sideways and rolled as the sub gun fired from a spasming trigger finger as the rebel died. The weapon in the man’s hands lifted as he fell until it pointed skyward, and ripped off another dozen rounds before the man hit the ground.
Murdock rolled once more, came to his feet, and without a glance at the men loading the truck, charged back into the brush twenty yards away. Now he heard the rifle fire coming from the woods he had left. Van Dyke, he decided. The kid would get a gold star. He crashed through some brush and went flat on the leaf-mold-covered ground, his Bull Pup cradled in his arms.
“Van Dyke, where are you guys?”
“About ten yards north. Figured you might need a hand out there. I take it they weren’t friendly.”
“They are the rebels. Somehow they got the upper hand here. Suggest we put some twenties into the truck and those stacks of weapons and ammo that are left. Fire when ready.”
Murdock crawled to the edge of the woods and sent his first shot into the truck engine. It erupted, blowing off the hood and sending parts of the engine over half the clearing. Another twenty hit the rear of the truck setting off some sympathetic explosions, and a minute later the whole rig was one mass of flames and detonations.
Murdock moved his sights to the stack of ammo and weapons still in front of the truck where its headlights had been shining. He found the black mass and triggered a round. The 20mm HE round detonated on a stack of ammo boxes and blasted them into kindling. Another round from Van Dyke shattered boxes containing the small arms, and set off a packet of plastic explosive that splattered the rest of the weapons and cartridges over half the world.
“Good shooting,” Murdock said. “Anybody see the other piles of goods?”
“Too damn dark,” Van Dyke said.
“Send out a WP in the middle of the place,” Lam said. “I might be shot but I’m not out of it.”
Murdock dug a marked WP 20mm round from his ammo stash and chambered it. “Good idea, Lam. One WP on the way.” He fired into the middle of where the Osprey planes had parked. It blossomed in white streamers and outlined two of the piles of boxes.
It took them another four minutes to find and explode the remaining ammunition and cartridges. A lot of it would be salvaged tomorrow, but the rebels would have to come back and do it in the light. Maybe by then the government forces would be on hand.
Murdock heard small arms firing to the south. None of the rounds were coming their way.
“Lam, how’s it going?” Murdock asked.
“Hanging, man. I can hike with the best of you. Where we going and when?”
“Working on that. The maps I saw put us just south of Freetown, the capital city. We’re also about five miles from the coast. Our best bet is to work our way to the coast, then up to the big town, and find some of the government troops.”
“Why weren’t the Sierra Leone troops here to pick up the goods?” Van Dyke asked.
“You can bet a lot of folks are going to be asking that same question,” Murdock said.
They had grouped together, and watched the last of the loading crew from the truck run back down the road they had come on.
“Not a good idea to use that road,” Murdock said. “We crash brush and head for the coast. Still wonder where the hell the government troops are. Uncle Sam spent a pile of dough for nothing here. Fact is, we gave a bunch of weapons to the rebels. The shit is gonna fly over this one. Let’s take off and see what we can find.”
Just as they pulled back into the woods, a small vehicle jolted into the clearing and a pedestal-mounted machine gun began chewing up the brush and trees around the edges of the clearing. It started well away from the SEALs and before it came their way, the trio was two hundred yards into the brush and trees.
Murdock led the way, with Lam in the middle and Van Dyke tail-end Charlie. They hiked through the thinning woods for five minutes, then came to a thick swamp with mangrove trees, sand, and clay.
“Not going through that mess,” Van Dyke said. “Didn’t they tell us that along here there were about twenty miles of swamps and lagoons and rivers and such? How the hell we gonna get through them?”
“We don’t,” Murdock said, making an instant decision. “We go back to the field and follow that road. It must be the only piece of solid ground in the area. Once the rebels cut it, they controlled the landing zone. Damn poor planning by the federals; no wonder they are losing their war.”
“I’m pumping some out again,” Lam said. “Damn bandage came off my leg.”
They stopped and Van Dyke put on a new bandage, wrapping it tight.
“Sorry about this, home folks. Usually I don’t get myself shot.”
“No sweat, beach boy,” Van Dyke said. “Fuck it, I’ll carry you if I need to. Let’s chogie.”
Murdock led them carefully up to the lower end of the LZ. The glow of the fire still showed on the downed VTOL. They saw no vehicles or men. The rebels should have left someone close by to protect their loot.
“We’re going to stay in the brush near the road,” said Murdock. “If it’s clear, we’ll use it. First a long look. The rebels have to be down there somewhere. A camp, a patrol, something.”
A mile down the road, the land on both sides gave way to an evil-looking swamp, and the SEALs had to move out to the road itself. They hiked cautiously, watching all sides, with Murdock monitoring the area ahead with his NVGs. They were just across the stretch with no firm land on either side when Murdock swore.