“What did it?” Alex asked.
“Grenade,” he replied, “under its belly.”
She craned her head out of the window some more, swallowing hard, forcing herself to ignore the sound of bullets flying through the air. One Ansyr blown to hell, but four more were coming, and behind them, even more trouble. The next Ansyr in line on the narrow road, closest to Tango Nine, was firing continuously, getting awfully close to the limit where their large caliber rounds would start tearing into Tango Nine, killing everyone in it.
Then she had an idea. She pressed her comm link button. “Lima, sever a tree, a big one, copy?”
“Alpha, did you say tree?”
“Block the road, Lima, block the fucking road!”
“Copy,” Lou confirmed, then, before releasing the comm button, Alex heard him give instructions to the Bravos with him. She saw Tango Nine slow, almost to a stop.
A few seconds later, a huge, majestic oak fell sideways, barely missing Tango Nine, and blocked the road.
“Great job, Lima, now catch up,” she radioed.
“Copy,” Lou replied, more intelligible now that the heavy firing had ceased and the Russian armored vehicles had stopped their pursuit.
“How much time did it buy us?” Alex asked, smiling involuntarily as she noticed the expression on the Tango One driver’s face. The man was grinning widely, despite the tension in the air.
The radio crackled static for a short while, then Lou’s voice came through.
“Not that much. Maybe five, ten minutes at the most.”
The driver’s grin vanished.
“What?”
“They can cut through it, Alpha, just like we did, only they have bigger caliber bullets.”
“Copy,” she replied, unable to hide her disappointment.
They needed a break… a bigger break, not five minutes. This wasn’t going to cut it.
She spoke into the radio again.
“Firefly Nest, do you copy?”
“Copy, Alpha. ETA is two minutes.”
“Copy, Nest. Step on it.” Then she turned to the driver at her left and added, “You too.”
The truck accelerated, bouncing heavily on the poorly maintained road as it hit potholes, scattered rocks, and fallen tree branches.
Alex allowed herself a moment to breathe, and leaned against her backrest with her eyes closed. Maybe they had a chance after all with help from the drones. She’d seen them in action before. Each UCAV could carry up to 16 Hellfire missiles, and their targeting was deadly accurate; they were incredible weapons, a thing of beauty when they were on your side in battle.
She turned toward the back, to check on Sam and Blake. Blake locked eyes with her, encouraging her with a quick nod. Sam lay unconscious, the German doctor checking his vitals every few minutes. The doctor’s pursed lips and deep frown made her stomach churn in fear for her friend’s life. She reached and grabbed Sam’s hand, holding it tight. It was cold to the touch and damp. Hang in there, Sam, please! We’re gonna make it, you’ll see. Just hang in there!
Her phone’s vibration caught her attention. She had a new text message, from Henri Marino. It read, “Eagle Base is your ride home. Good luck!”
Yes! They were coming! Way to go, Marino! And thank you, Mr. President! Now all they had to do was get to the extraction point, and stay alive until they came.
She spoke into the radio to share the news.
“All call signs, this is Alpha. We have a ride home. Do you copy?”
She knew they copied, because instant cheering erupted from all trucks. Some honked their horns and flashed their lights, forgetting for a second they were in the middle of a battle. Knowing they were not alone, knowing that someone was going to come for them gave them hope, a much-needed shot in the arm for everyone.
They weren’t out of the woods yet, literally and figuratively speaking. She saw the lights from the Russian armored vehicles starting to approach again; they’d only delayed them by four minutes or so.
Her radio crackled, then a new, unfamiliar voice spoke, patched in via her sat phone.
“All call signs, this is Eagle Base. Do you copy?”
She replied cheerfully. “Eagle Base, Alpha. Copy loud and clear.”
“Alpha, coordinates for pickup confirmed. ETA sixty minutes. What’s your status?”
She hesitated before responding. How could she summarize in a couple of words the desperate situation they were in?
“Eagle Nest, this is Alpha. We’re precarious and low on resources, taking fire. More bogeys inbound, both air and ground. Not sure we’ll last sixty minutes, but we’ll try.”
She released the comm button, waiting for Eagle’s response. A few seconds of radio silence ensued, then the voice replied, “Copy, Alpha, good luck.”
She couldn’t help a bitter chuckle hearing Eagle’s encouragement. Too many people wished them good luck; that meant their situation actually needed it. Every bit of luck possible.
Alex looked out the window toward the end of the convoy; the headlights were approaching fast, and the Russian armored Ansyrs were resuming their fire.
Then, from somewhere above her head, she heard a whoosh, followed by an explosion. A drone had fired a missile, blowing up the Ansyr closest to them.
“About bloody time, Firefly,” she radioed.
“Roger that, Alpha,” the drone operator replied, barely intelligible. “Alpha, we have an issue. It’s dark, and you’re under forest cover. We can’t distinguish between you and them enough to fire safely. We can only target them if they’re firing at you.”
Oh, crap… “Copy that, working on a fix,” she replied.
She thought for a few second, then pressed the radio button again. “Lima, can you paint a target?”
“Affirmative,” Lou’s voice confirmed.
“All Tangos except Tango One, kill your beams. Lima, paint the fuckers.”
A few seconds later, the only lights still flickering in the darkness of the forest were the Russian Ansyrs, marked red by several laser spots.
The drones didn’t waste any time. Two missiles were fired and both reached their targets, blowing to bits two Russian armored vehicles. Only one Ansyr was left, followed by the BTR-80s and the trucks carrying troops.
Before a drone could take that last Ansyr out, it fired a large caliber projectile, but missed Tango Nine. The road was curved, so the projectile hit the rear right wheels of one of the other trucks, sending it in the air, sliding on its side, and screeching to a stop. The trucks braked hard, barely avoiding it, and the rest of the convoy stopped.
The radio crackled and then the voice of one of the backup team members screamed.
“Alpha, this it Tango Five. We’re hit! We’re hit!”
“Stop the truck and kill your lights,” she instructed her driver.
She jumped off the truck and ran to Tango Five, just as people were starting to come out of it. Some were just dazed, shocked, while others were wounded and needed help.
One of the Bravos approached her.
“The road is blocked,” he said. We can only use the first four trucks, and we can’t fit everyone in them.
She frowned, thinking hard. The truck was huge, effectively blocking the narrow road. But they had manpower, the power of many.
“All Tangos, instruct your able passengers to climb down and help us push Tango Five out of the way, and then they are to go back to their trucks. All passengers in Tango Five and Tango Nine will have to travel in other trucks. The civilians are too exposed in Tango Nine. Only Bravos in Tango Nine. Copy?”
Another drone, flying low above them, shot a missile, and took out the last Russian Ansyr that had just opened fire.
Within a minute, Tango Five was pushed to the side of the road, where it fell into a ravine and exploded on impact on the rocks below.