Covering fire against the rebels in the house across the street pinned them as he and Chief Judiah leaped the wall where the chief’s grenade had exploded. Chief Judiah hit the other side, his CAR-15 blasting away to dispatch a stunned fundamentalist to whatever paradise fanatics rush to go to.
“How’s Ensign Helliwell?” Duncan asked. The two crouched side by side, their eyes searching the area.
“He’ll live, Captain.”
“Serious wound?”
“Another Purple Heart, but he’ll be standing to get it.”
“I saw you carrying him.”
“Yes, sir, and he bitched the entire time.”
“Good. Sounds as if he’ll live.”
Duncan had counted at least six rebels where H.J. had been shot, but no return fire came from that direction, much to the surprise of the two SEALs. Why would a woman want to do this line of work? Didn’t they realize what happened when they were captured? But his was not to reason why. That was the province of the politicians who had Duncan stood up slowly behind a wide telephone pole. The enemy fire had slacked for some unknown reason. He motioned Beau and Gibbons forward.
Mcdonald repositioned to provide better cross fire.
Duncan and Chief Judiah watched the hill, firing once at a sniper who had reached the second floor of the house across the street and recklessly leaned out the window to take aim at Beau and Gibbons. Their bullets hit the sniper simultaneously, catapulting the dying rebel head over heels off the balcony to land with a sickening thump on the road below. His screams stopped when he hit. The rifle clanked several times as it bounced on the pavement.
Chief Judiah crawled over the end of the wall. Duncan followed.
Moving quickly, they eased over the next wall into another walled garden. The one after this was H. J.“s.
Surprised, but thankful that no return fire came from the garden, Duncan and Judiah still approached carefully.
Across the street Beau and Gibbons cautiously worked their way to where they were directly opposite Duncan and Chief Judiah. Their eyes scanned constantly, working their way along the doorways and windows and roofs. Watching for a warning when the next attack would start.
“We’re going in,” Duncan mouthed as he motioned to the next building.
Beau nodded.
Duncan and Chief Judiah crouched against the wall. On the other side should be more Algerian rebels. Duncan moved to the far side, while Chief Judiah braced his back against the side of the house. Chief Judiah pulled another grenade. Dun can nodded.
He eased up to peer into the next yard, ready to drop if spotted.
Gunfire erupted from the building, hitting the wall, sending a shower of dust and pieces of brick into the air. Dun can and the chief stuck their carbines over the top and fired a random burst toward the house.
Judiah lobbed a grenade up an dover the wall. It exploded. The two men rolled over the wall into the yard next door, the smoke from the grenade screening their presence. The door to the house was open.
Duncan’s eyes scrunched as he weighed the situation, trying to see through the cloud of dust. He looked at Chief Judiah and waved the grenade down. Then, he motioned the chief to the right and forward.
Judiah put the grenade away. Crouching, he ran along the side of the house. Gunfire erupted from the top window; the shooter, failing to see them, was firing over their heads at a target in the street. Duncan stood, took two steps back to the left, and shot the rebel in the top window. The rebel tumbled out of the window, screaming in pain until the ground stopped his fall.
Duncan looked at Chief Judiah, lifted his right fist, and began to uncurl his fingers one at a time. When the third finger flipped up, Duncan nodded sharply. The two rushed the doorway. Duncan came up short on the left side, while Judiah braced his back against the front of the house on the right side.
Beau and Gibbons dashed across the street and rolled into the garden behind them. Judiah pulled the stun grenade off his belt again. Duncan shook his head, and with a downward wave of his hand motioned the chief to hold the grenade. Judiah was determined to use that grenade. But Duncan didn’t want to take the chance of injuring H. J. — if she was still alive.
A pause in the gunfire allowed the noise of a fight inside the house to reach them. Then the sound of enemy gunfire from around the far side of the house told Duncan that more rebels were using the downstairs as their position. The SEALs had taken out the rebels in the front, but how long before the others inside realized their flank had been broken?
“Cover me,” he said.
Chief Judiah nodded.
Beau and Gibbons moved forward to join the two.
Duncan drove through the doorway, his trigger finger tense on the carbine. A rebel fired at him from the top of the stairs. Beau shot him from the doorway and rolled to Duncan’s right. The rebel fell over the banister, hitting the floor with a loud clump. Judiah dashed into the house, glanced in the room to the right, and fired a quick burst. A short cry followed Judiah’s shots. Duncan rose and dashed down the hallway. Beau and the others followed. From outside a renewed round of fighting increased in intensity.
Two rebels had H.J. pinned on the floor. Her shirt was ripped and shredded. Her bra hung by a single strap down her side, exposing both breasts. She twisted to the right, dislodging the rebel holding her feet long enough for her left leg to come around and catch him upside the head, knocking him senseless against a nearby couch. A gaping right shoulder wound bled profusely as H.J. spat at the man holding her arms. Blood ran out of her mouth from bleeding gums where someone had beaten her severely. She pulled her legs up and caught the remaining rebel’s head between her calves. She rolled to the left, pulling him away from her wounded shoulder.
Behind the couch, two other rebels were firing out of the window, ignoring the commotion behind them. They were overconfident in their satisfaction that they had subdued the American female. Their attention was so focused on the battle outside that they failed to notice H.J. had gotten the upper hand. The rebel who H.J. had kicked with her foot shook his head, and looked up. Duncan appeared in the doorway. Seeing Duncan, he dove for his gun.
The burst from Duncan’s CAR-15 catapulted the rebel across the room, the bullets rippling up the torso, blowing away his manhood, abdomen, and chest. The last bullet left a single, well-defined hole in the forehead. Chief Judiah burst into the room, two steps to the left of Duncan. The two rebels at the windows whipped around at the gunfire, one of them shooting as he turned. Judiah and Beau fired, killing the two. A stray shot from one of the rebels at the window hit the rebel who was fighting to free himself from H. J.“s murderous leg grip.
H.J. released the dying man, pushed herself up with her left arm, and struggled to her feet. She stood there, weaving back and forth, like a half-naked goddess. Gibbons ran forward to help, unsure of what to touch or grab. Finally, he took her arm.
“You okay, Lieutenant?” Duncan asked, his gun trained on the bodies of two rebels near the windows. Even though he knew the answer was, “No, I’m not okay.”
She nodded. Her face was bleeding and there was a vacant, moist look in her eyes. Shock, Duncan thought.
Beau stripped a shirt off one of the rebels and handed it to her. She reached up and tore the remaining strap of the bra, letting the useless undergarment drop to the floor.
She took the offered shirt and pulled it halfway over the good shoulder, but was unable to cover the wounded one. Gibbons stopped her. She shifted the survival knife on her belt to one side.
“Ma’am, excuse me,” Gibbons said, “but I need to dress this shoulder and wipe away some of this blood before we put on the shirt.”