“It have the same drop as a standard forty?” George asked
Julius nodded. “And I sighted in all these myself, at one hundred yards. You see the yardage markings there on the side of the optic, from fifty yards out to three-seventy-five, in twenty-five-yard increments? Those work damn well. Trigger pull’s heavy, but it’s two stage, so you can prep the trigger, get settled, then break the shot clean. If you’ve got the range right and you don’t jerk the trigger, that grenade will drop right where the dot is, they’re surprisingly accurate.”
“You’re definitely the man for that,” Ed said to George. To Julius’ questioning look, he said, “I think the last time George got rattled under fire was before the war.”
“I get rattled all the time,” George said absently, trying to figure out how to swing out the cylinder of the grenade launcher. “I just don’t let it keep me from hitting what I’m aiming at
Julius told them, “About two months ago one of our combat engineers wandered around the Blue Zone, especially the area you’ll be heading, for the better part of a day, measuring distances. He was happy to get out of tunnel digging duty. You’ve got copies of that diagram, and it should be accurate to within plus or minus five yards.” He nodded at the grenade launcher. “Should help a lot with that.”
Staring down at the IMP and Growlers George thought they were closer to seventy-five yards away than fifty, and adjusted the optic’s elevation. He’d dry-fired the weapon until his finger was sore, but he was pretty sure he’d mastered the trigger pull.
George took a step closer to the empty window frame, shouldered the MGL, and put the red dot on the center of the IMP’s top deck. He pulled the heavy trigger almost to the breaking point, took half a second to steady his aim, then pulled the trigger through. The weapon fired with a loud THOOMPF!
The MGL was big and heavy but it bucked vigorously in his hands. George was back on the trigger, getting the dot back on the IMP even as he saw an explosion on its top deck. He couldn’t tell if it had been a good hit or not, so he fired a second time at the IMP, then a third, one corner of his mind aware Kelly had fired his grenade launcher beside him. George moved his aim over and began engaging the Growlers—one round per. Six seconds after firing his first shot, he was empty. Kelly was just firing his second grenade, the single shot M203 much slower to reload. Eight grenades fired in as many seconds.
George let the MGL drop to its sling and grabbed his Springfield. There were Tabs on foot around the now burning and disabled vehicles, using them for cover. A few made a break for the Cadillac Place building. He fired careful, aimed shots, hearing Mark firing bursts with the SAW. A running Tab fell. One of the Growlers was reversing at speed back down 2nd Avenue. The IMP appeared to be dead, one Growler was on fire, and the remaining one had lost a wheel. There were a few bodies on the street between the vehicles.
He grabbed his radio and said evenly, “Skybox, Tower. I think a few made it into your lobby. Three out of those four vehicles are down.” Then he leaned forward and, looking at the burning vehicles across the street, shouted as loud as he could, “Get off my lawn!”
Dietz was just rolling up to the intersection of 2nd Avenue and Baltimore in KICKASS the Toad when Charlie One-Four got on the radio again. “Charlie One-Four is roger that, command,” the IMP Commander said. “Be advised—” Then the transmission stopped.
“Charlie One-Four, repeat your last, you cut out,” Major Lunis said over the comm after waiting about ten seconds.
There was no response, then there was a loud burst of static, then incoherent words. Maybe screaming. “Charlie One-Four? Charlie One-Four, or anyone in that detachment, what is your status, over?” There was no response. “Can anyone get me a sitrep on Charlie One-Four?”
At the moment Dietz couldn’t see shit, because there was a big office building blocking his view. “Go! Around the corner,” Dietz told his driver. They were practically on top of Charlie One-Four’s last known position, just two small city blocks away.
The turbo diesel whined and roared and the tank lurched around the corner and headed north. Dietz stood in his hatch, one hand on the M240B, squinting at the vehicles in the distance. “Charlie One-One is eyes on One-Four detachment,” he announced. “They’ve got at least two vehicles disabled and seem to be taking heavy fire from target building. We are moving to assist.” He could see soldiers hunkering down behind the IMP and one of the Growlers, using the vehicles for cover. “Richards, get us the fuck up there, we need to provide some covering fire. Pull up even with the IMP.”
“You got it, Sergeant.” The Toad surged forward, the engine noise deafening. The troops crouched behind their smoking vehicles heard them coming. The one Growler still mobile roared past them in reverse, its front right tire shredded and flapping noisily. He thought it might regroup behind them, but it kept on going. The soldiers inside were panicked.
“Kirkland! You see those windows blown out of that building in front of us, about ten stories up?”
His gunner took a second to spot them. “Yeah?”
“Put an HE round up there right now!” Dietz had spotted obvious tangos up there, firing down at his men. There was a round already loaded in the main gun.
Firing accurately while moving was actually easy for the tank’s fire control system, but it took a bit longer than when standing still. That said, it was only a few seconds before Kirkland said, “Firing,” and the main gun erupted with a roar and a tongue of flame. Kirkland hit his mark and the face of the building ruptured with a flash and a cloud of glittering dust. The façade of the high rise around the crater seemed to sag. He didn’t see anything moving.
“Right on the fucking money! Excellent! Richards, get us in there.” As the IMP roared up Dietz began firing the belt-fed over the heads of the troopers in front of him, directly into the lobby of the building across the street, trying to keep the terrorists there pinned down.
“We can’t stay here,” Dietz shouted down at the few men still on the street, some of whom looked like they wanted to use the Toad for cover. He fired another burst, then pointed at the Cadillac Place building on their right. “Get inside, under cover.”
Seattle was on the northwest corner of the building and saw the Toad rolling up on the burning vehicles. He didn’t call it out, he knew Nakatomi Tower had a better view on the oncoming tank than he did. But then the tank fired its main gun and the face of the Fisher Building erupted, a thousand shards of glass catching the light as they fell to the street, along with chunks of concrete and pieces of steel.