Being nearly a mile away gave Reel and her team a lot more latitude. And time for exfiltration, which was a fancy military term for getting the hell out of Dodge.
Her work finished for now, Reel filled out her DOPE and put away her weapon. They drove back to their base, only to be told that they would be heading out on another mission that night. They would support a SEAL team attack on a compound where it was rumored the number two man in ISIS would be, along with three hostages, one of whom was a U.S. Marine captured two weeks prior.
Reel and her team attended the briefing. She snatched some shuteye, and then they geared up and moved out.
Just another night in the neighborhood.
Only it wouldn’t be like any other night for Jessica Reel, ever.
CHAPTER
5
SEAL teams did everything in the fast lane.
The stealth chopper came low and fast over a rise in the sand, its engine and prop wash as quiet as the best and brightest of American engineering could make them.
Ten SEAL Team Six members fast-roped down to the interior of the compound. Moving as one unit, they hit the sole entrance of the building and disappeared inside.
A football field’s length away, Reel, her spotter, and other team members watched the proceedings closely.
Reel lay in the sand behind her sniper rifle. Her optics held on the interior of the courtyard, which could be seen through an opening that had once held a gate.
Four of the other team members had optics on the target zone. They were also commed together and following over their headsets what was happening inside the compound.
A minute later the all clear was given. The mission was a bust. There was no one inside.
As quickly as they had come the SEALs departed. The stealth chopper disappeared over a sandy ridge and was gone.
Reel and her team were packing their gear and about to board two Humvees when explosive rounds hit both vehicles. Secondary explosions came when the hardened fuel tanks were punctured and the gas vapor inside was combusted.
The twin explosions cremated the driver and the grunt riding next to him in one vehicle and burned alive the driver in the second Humvee. The concussive blast ripped limbs off another team member, and he bled out seconds later.
Reel and her spotter rolled to the left and sighted their weapons in the direction from where the rounds had come.
Another explosive hit behind them, sending three more team members to the hereafter, in pieces.
“We’re fucked,” screamed the spotter as incoming fire poured in from behind them as well. “This was a setup!”
Reel already knew this. She spun her weapon around and crab-walked over so it was pointed at their rear flank.
That was when she saw what was coming.
Into her headset she said, “Get air support in here. Now!”
There were three lightly armored Toyota pickup trucks carrying maybe twenty-five fighters in total. Another dozen armed men were hustling behind the cover of the trucks. Mounted in the beds of the Toyotas were .50-cal machine guns.
Fifty-calibers didn’t wound when they hit you; they pretty much vaporized whatever they touched.
Reel looked behind her as another round struck. Two more of her team were dismembered, their helmets spinning through the air before coming to rest as mangled composite a hundred feet away.
And one of them was their communications person.
Reel turned to her spotter. “Use your phone. Call in our coordinates. And we need some—”
The .50s opened up again and the decibel-shattering barrage canceled out whatever else Reel was going to say.
Two rounds hit her spotter, and Reel was instantly covered in blood, brains, and guts. The spotter’s right arm flew through the sky in a long arc before plummeting back to the sand.
Now, with less than a minute having passed, there was just Reel and one other man left alive, a Brit named Hugh Barkley.
Reel waited until the .50s ceased firing to reload and then she sighted through her optics.
Three quick trigger pulls, and each ISIS member manning the machine guns toppled off the back of the trucks.
Reel had bullets and she had enemies, and she set out to merge the two forevermore.
Three men tried to take the place of the machine gunners. And three men caught Win Mag rounds in their heads for the trouble.
Then the ISIS force wised up and the trucks went into evasive maneuvers, with the lead truck providing cover for the other two.
Reel grabbed her spotter’s weapon, and without taking her eyes off the targets, her fingers snagged the ordnance she wanted to deploy next.
She fed the rounds into the rifle, took aim, and fired.
The incendiary round found its mark, and the gas tank of the lead truck was pierced. A split second later the ordnance ignited and so did the vapor in the tank.
The concussive force lifted the Toyota pickup straight off the ground, like a rocket taking off. Then gravity took over and the truck flipped and came to rest on top of the second truck, crushing it.
Reel sent another incendiary round into the third truck. The gas vapor detonated and also caused the .50-cal ammo stacked on the truck beds to explode, turning the night sky bright as day. Bodies and weapons and pieces of Toyotas hurtled across the sand, some landing as far as a half mile away.
When the smoke cleared, Reel could not see one living person in front of her. Just wreckage, flaming objects, and burned corpses.
She had not a second longer to dwell on this, because firing came from behind her. She saw Barkley strafing the ground in front of him with rounds from his MP5.
Reel sprinted that way, planted her weapon on the sand, slid into firing position, and sighted through her scope and fired. And kept firing.
But bullets were coming at them far faster. And then grenades landed and started exploding all around them.
Barkley moved to his left, which was a mistake. The heavy round sliced right through his body armor and blew out his back. He moaned once, gurgled twice, and fell facedown in the sand.
Now it was only Reel left.
She sighted through her scope looking for targets, when it emerged out of the smoke, dust, and darkness.
“Shit!”
It was an American M1117 armored security vehicle. A bunch of them had been captured by ISIS from the Iraqi army. It was heavily armored, weighed thirty thousand pounds, and had a top speed of seventy mph. It had a grenade launcher and a .50-cal machine gun in addition to a second machine gun, all mounted on the rotating turret. That was what had been firing at them. That was what had rained grenades on them, and a round from the .50 had just killed Barkley.
Reel grabbed the other rifle she always brought to battle, the Barrett M82. It was already chambered with the most powerful ordnance Reel had to combat the armored rhino coming for her. She would only use it if everything had gone to shit.
Now seemed the perfect time.
The round she was about to fire was technically known as the Raufoss Mk211, developed by a manufacturer in Scandinavia. It was so devastating that, under the Geneva Conventions, it was not supposed to be used against humans.
Right now Reel knew it was her last chance to survive. She didn’t try to change locations. If she got up and ran, they would simply mow her down with the .50-cal like they had Barkley. She didn’t move a muscle. They might assume she was already dead.
Reel aimed her weapon, centered her breathing, and let her finger slip to the trigger. The M1117 had good armor, but armor needed to be maintained. And she had spotted some missing plates on the front underbelly of the vehicle, probably from a previous run-in with an IED when the metal beast was still working for America.