Another Moroccan made it past the American. He threw himself onto the roof and meeting two Russian Hybrids. He went after them like a wild animal, even as a couple of rounds struck his body sending up puffs of bloody mist. He collided with the enemy Hybrids in a blur of slashing claws, raking at them until all three of them fell off the edge of the roof. Their bodies hit the concrete with sickening thuds as their bony armor cracked open from the impact.
“Take out those Hybrids,” O’Neil hissed, pointing at crooked claw at the roof. If anything or anyone was going to ruin his plans, it was the creatures on that warehouse. They were the most frightening and deadly of the Russian forces.
And they had the same abilities he did.
The mercs concentrated most of their fire on the Russians on the roof. Bullets tore into the beasts and a couple of them slid off the roof when rounds tore through their chests and faces.
O’Neil considered for a second how Reynolds was doing with the leader of the mercs, Dom. He wondered if they had reached the command center of the base yet. Maybe they had. Maybe they had even taken down the leadership of the base, and this was the Russians’ last stand.
He hoped so.
Because if he had any say in the matter, he would bring the hammer of god down on their head. He kept focusing on his anger. Not letting it control his body, but instead reaching out toward the Skulls beyond the port. The monsters whose lives had become a senseless cycle of violence. Let them do what they did best.
But this time, he let them turn their hunger on the Russians.
The chorus of monsters outside the base grew into a wild cacophony. Howls and high-pitched shrieks joined the wails and guttural cries of beasts whose minds had rotted away. Then came the clattering of claws and talons against metal and concrete. The sounds of a Skull horde doing its damndest to break past the Russian defenses and destroy everything in their path.
The Hybrids on the warehouse started to pull back. A few rushed away. O’Neil guessed they were going to try to calm the Skull horde.
But it was already too late for them.
The only thing that would calm this horde was death.
Several of the squads of Russian soldiers started to fall back. Others dove behind the cover of oil drums or crates or shipping containers, giving up their charge.
Their confidence in an easily won victory appeared to have been vanquished by the emergence of the horde.
“It’s working,” O’Neil said, fighting to control his rapid breathing. He looked at Tate and Loeb who appeared to be in a trance like him, their claws curled into firsts, their jaws set, nostrils twitching. “It’s working.”
-34-
The gunfire slowed like a small trickle of rain after a downpour. Most of the Russians were falling back, directing their shots toward the beasts outside the wall. Which meant only one thing to O’Neil.
Their plan had worked. Too well.
What he had originally intended to be a distraction had turned into something else. The first few Skulls make it to the top of the wall. One tore into a Russian soldier manning a machine gun aimed at the beasts. He went down screaming as the monster ripped out his throat.
The destruction of the Russian port was almost certain at this point. But the ships that they had to destroy would still be floating with their cargo, ready to sail away. Even if the Russians at the port all died under the claws of the incensed Skulls, the bastards could always send reinforcements to recover those ships.
“Your plan to destroy the ships…” O’Neil started.
“Yes, we must get to the ships now,” Andris said.
Confusion riddled the ranks of the Russians. They had turned most of their attention toward the feral beasts, leaving only a meager group holding the Hybrids and mercs down.
Loeb let out a low growl. “We have to stop them soon.”
“Can’t keep holding our positions much longer, man,” Tate said. “Especially not when those Skulls get into the base. Not going to be able to protect these mercs. I already feel the signal weakening. Like some of our own got killed out there.”
“Understood,” Meredith said. “If we’re going to do this, we’ve got to do it now.” She reached into her pack and handed out the explosive charges their team had prepared. “Jenna and Glenn, take the closest ship. Miguel, Spencer, next one after that. Andris and I will take the last.”
“Put the explosives as close to the propellers as you can,” Andris said. “That means we might have to take a swim to reach them. I will set them off when you give me the all-clear. Even if we can’t sink the ships outright, the damage should be enough to keep these ships from ever leaving this port.”
“Roger that,” Miguel said. “Let’s make some fireworks.”
Andris turned to O’Neil. “Ready when you are. We need to make a hole through the Russians to get to those ships, though. Can you handle that?”
O’Neil swept his gaze over the ranks of soldiers blocking their path to the freighters. They had dug deep into their positions, aiming their rifles straight at the mercs and Hybrids. Whenever one dared to peek their way, a rash of gunfire exploded out in response.
There was no way to clear a path to the pier without heavy casualties. But they had no other choice.
“Consider it done.” He turned back toward the Hybrids. “You heard the man. This is our chance to stop these bastards. This our chance to give them hell for what they’ve done to our brothers. Our friends. Ourselves. Let’s tear these assholes to pieces.”
“Yes, let us!” Hassan said, screaming.
The rest of the Hybrids let out cries to rival the beasts they had seen on the warehouse roofs.
O’Neil looked hard at Tate and Loeb. Each of them knew they might never return from what they were about to do. But ever since becoming Hybrids, their lives had been packed aboard a rocket with a one-way ticket to Hell.
Might as well bring as many of the enemy down into that eternal inferno with them.
He leapt over the first crate in his way, then charged, running low and zigzagging between shelter. Bullets scorched the air past him. They cracked against the crates and cargo or deflected off shipping containers. O’Neil didn’t need to turn around to know every one of the Hybrids had joined his kamikaze charge.
He heard their roars. Their talons pounding the concrete. Their claws scraping over wood and metal as they hurdled over every obstacle in their path.
A few of the Delta and Charlie operators who were left joined them with other Moroccan Hybrid prisoners, racing from the walls, away from the crush of Skulls and Russian soldiers. Bullets stitched their backs. Several died before they even had a chance to catch up to the charge.
O’Neil still didn’t see Stuart or Henderson. Wondered if they had been killed before they had a chance to join this macabre assault.
That only fueled O’Neil’s anger as he closed in on the Russians. He fired wildly at their ranks until his rifle was empty. He threw it away, letting it clatter across the ground. It would only get in his way for what was about to happen.
As the rounds seared overhead, the crack of bullets smashing through bony plates burst all around him. One of the Hybrids let out a scream of pain as he went tumbling over the ground. Another beside him crumpled in a bloody mess.
But not a single Hybrid let up.
They slammed into the first of the soldiers, exploding on them like firecrackers. Ripping, tearing, stealing their weapons from their bloodied hands and turning them on the other soldiers. All the while, O’Neil never stopped howling and roaring as the blood splashed over him. He let the rage build, reverberating between him and every Hybrid fighting beside him.