Payback (23 page)

As she
lay on the tile floor, curled in a ball of shock and self-pity, she thought of
that little girl and how scared she must be, all because of the selfish actions
taken by a coward.

And she
pushed herself to her feet, determined to make sure they all survived until the
Americans arrived, even if it meant Sarah had to endure an unspeakable horror.

Northern Sierra Leone

Dawson sat in the passenger seat, their liaison officer, Margai,
driving. Atlas, Jimmy and Niner sat in the back, the conditions cramped with
Atlas’ broad shoulders, but complaints were few. The alternative was splitting
up and driving in vehicles occupied by their escort who they couldn’t be sure
weren’t infected. It was a new dynamic having to think of such things, and he
would have preferred to have two vehicles, driven and occupied only by his own
men, but that wasn’t an option here.

In fact,
initially Margai didn’t want them to even come.

“I’m
afraid I cannot agree to that. You are my responsibility, and I cannot risk you
getting lost, injured or worse, infected. My men will check it out. If we find
anything, we will let you know.”

“Unfortunately
I cannot agree to
that.
Your government promised us full cooperation. We
will
be investigating these sightings. You can drive us there yourself,
or we will arrange our own transportation. Either way, we’re going.”

Margai
had smiled. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t get far. There are many roadblocks and
checkpoints.”

Dawson
had pointed skyward. “Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.”

Niner
had stifled a snicker nearby at the obvious Back to the Future reference, Margai
either not noticing or choosing to ignore it. They were soon on the road with
two troop transports accompanying them, half a dozen men in the lead vehicle,
the trailing vehicle almost empty, it to carry back any prisoners.

They had
been travelling for several hours, their vehicles and Margai’s ID clearing them
through checkpoints very quickly, little time lost. The sun was low in the
west, to their left, their direction a mix of north and east jaunts along the windy
road, long straight highways not something easily afforded in a poor country.

It
didn’t matter. According to Dawson’s phone they were already nearing the area
in question, a cluster of small villages all within approximately fifty miles
of each other, all the original homes to those involved. Several drones were in
the air and satellites had been re-tasked to try and provide as much coverage
as possible, but nothing yet had been reported.

There
was a squawk in his earpiece. “Bravo Zero-One, Control, maintain radio silence
on your end.” Dawson felt himself tense up slightly, it clear their minders
back home didn’t want Margai to know they were communicating. “We’ve got a UAV
over you now. There’s a road block ahead, just over the next rise, heavily armed.
It looks like they’re prepping for your arrival. ETA two mikes, over.”

“It
would be nice if we had some help when we got there,” said Dawson, turning
toward Margai and smiling.

“My men
can handle anything we might encounter,” said Margai confidently, his right
hand loosely on the wheel, his left holding a cigarette, his arm half out the
open window.

“We’ve
got Royal Marines inbound by helo now, ETA fifteen mikes, over.”

“I need
to hit the head, can we stop? I’d hate to enter combat with a full bladder.”

Margai
laughed. “Just ahead there’s a village with a good restaurant. We can stop and
get something to eat and drink there.”

“How
far?”

“About
two minutes.”

“There’s
nothing for the next fifteen minutes on this route, over.”

“Can’t
wait that long,” said Dawson, his right hand sliding to his hip as he turned
toward the back of the vehicle. “You guys up for a piss break?” He made direct
eye contact with each of them, all privy to the conversation with Control.

His
message was delivered.

“Oh you
can wait two minutes,” came the cheery reply.

“’Fraid
not.” Dawson pulled his weapon, jamming it against Margai’s ribcage. “Stop the
vehicle.”

“What
are you doing?” cried Margai, his cigarette dropping from his fingers as he
grabbed the steering wheel with both hands.

“Stopping
whatever it is you’ve got planned,” replied Dawson as Niner’s gun pressed
against the back of the man’s neck. “Now come to a nice, easy stop.”

Margai
hammered on the gas, his hand shoving against the horn, the loud sound causing
the troops in the lead transport to poke their heads out from under the canvas.
Dawson pumped two rounds into Margai’s ribcage, scrambling the man’s heart and
lungs. Margai collapsed into the steering wheel, the soldiers ahead of them
raising their weapons. Niner reached forward and grabbed Margai’s collar,
yanking him backward allowing Dawson to reach over and shove the door open.
Pushing Margai’s body out of the vehicle with one hand, the other on the wheel
of the rapidly slowing vehicle, he climbed over the console and dropped into
the driver seat just as the first rounds from the lead vehicle tore into the
windshield.

“Return
fire,” ordered Dawson as he slammed on the brakes, throwing the vehicle into
reverse. Niner and Atlas leaned out their windows and opened fire on the rear
of the lead vehicle as Jimmy climbed into the passenger seat.

“Cover
the rear!” he shouted to Atlas as he took over firing at the lead vehicle,
Atlas spinning in his seat, taking out the shocked and confused driver of the
now stopped trailing vehicle. Another shot and the passenger was eliminated.
Dawson expertly continued to reverse the vehicle, swerving around the trailing
vehicle as he updated Control.

“Control,
Bravo One, we’ve been engaged by our escorts. Liaison has been eliminated,
over.”

“Bravo
One, Control Actual, are you intact, over?”

Dawson
always felt a sense of comfort when he heard Colonel Clancy’s voice—it meant
the big man was aware of what was going on and had their backs. “Affirmative.”

“Someone
must have radioed in the situation. The vehicles at the roadblock are
scrambling, heading your direction, over.”

“Numbers?”

“Four
vehicles, at least two dozen hostiles.”

“Lovely,”
muttered Dawson. “Ammo check!”

“Two
mags!” shouted Atlas.

Niner
leaned back in for a moment. “One plus one just loaded!”

“Three!”
replied Jimmy as he ceased firing, the lead vehicle no longer moving, it
apparently waiting for reinforcements.

“We’ve
got movement behind you, two vehicles. Possibly hostile, over.”

Dawson
slammed on the brakes.

“What’s
up, boss?” asked Niner as Dawson shoved the vehicle into first, hammering on
the gas and popping the clutch.

“The
only weapons and ammo are in those trucks and we’re about to be surrounded.”
They surged forward, racing back toward the trailing truck. He looked back at
Atlas as he hit the brakes again. “Get their weapons and ammo.”

Atlas
jumped out, the tires already spinning as they raced toward the lead vehicle.
Nothing moved in the rear, his team’s shots true, but most likely the driver
and at least one additional man in the cab of the truck were still alive.

“ETA
sixty seconds on the vehicles in front of you, two mikes on your six. Marines
updated on your status, ETA now ten mikes, over.”

“This
will be over by then,” said Dawson as he brought the vehicle to a halt, Niner
and Jimmy jumping out, racing up either side of the stopped transport vehicle.
Two shots rang out from either side before he was even out of the vehicle.

“Clear!”
shouted Niner, immediately echoed by Jimmy.

“Weapons
and ammo!” shouted Dawson as he jumped into the rear of the transport. Someone
moaned to the left resulting in a double-tap to the chest. He began tossing
weapons, mostly AK-47s, out the back then patting the bodies down for ammo,
finding two magazines on each of the six men.

“Look,
BD, RPG!” Dawson turned to see a grinning Atlas holding up the weapon in one
hand, two AKs in the other. “Got four mags, too.”

Dawson
jumped back to the ground, pointing to Niner. “Block the road with this,” he
said, slapping the side of the transport. “Flatten the tires.”

Niner
nodded, yanking the body of the driver out of the cab and climbing in as Dawson
surveyed the terrain. There were plenty of low trees with a taller grove
several hundred yards to the east but there was no way they could make them in
time; they would be sitting ducks if their opponents could actually shoot.

The hiss
of air filled his ears for a moment as Niner and Jimmy used their knives to
flatten the tires rather than waste valuable ammunition. “Weapons and ammo in
our vehicle, let’s head south. We’ll intercept the smaller force, take out one
of the vehicles with the RPG, the other by surprise. That should allow us to
continue retreating. If we can stay ahead of the approaching reinforcements long
enough, the Brits might just get here before it’s too late.”

Armfuls
of weapons were grabbed and dumped into the back seat as Dawson jumped into the
driver seat, turning the key, the engine merely turning over but not starting.
And he already knew the reason.

He could
smell gas.

He
jerked a thumb at Atlas. “Check the other transport, see if it starts.”

Atlas,
not yet in the vehicle, tore off toward the only other vehicle that might still
be functional, climbing inside and turning the key. It roared to life.

But too
late.

“They’re
here,” shouted Niner, pointing ahead as a column of vehicles crested a ridge,
single file.

 “Hit
the lead vehicle,” ordered Dawson as he stepped out of the vehicle, cranking
the wheel to the left. He pushed, the vehicle inching forward then finally
gaining some momentum as he directed it toward a shallow ditch at the side of
the road. Stepping away the truck rolled into the depression, its front bumper
slamming into the embankment with a crunch.

The
distinctive sound of an RPG launching to his right was ignored, the resulting
explosion and cheer from Niner telling him all he needed to know. Reaching into
the back seat, he pulled the weapons out, tossing them to Jimmy and the
returning Niner as Atlas attempted to turn the massive transport on the narrow
road behind them. He leaned out the window.

“There’s
just no room!” he shouted. “We’ll have to back out of here!”

Dawson
nodded, stuffing his pockets with magazines. “Let’s go!”

They ran
toward the rear transport, Dawson pointing toward the passenger side. “Jimmy,
with Atlas! Cover the front!”

Jimmy
broke off as Atlas straightened the truck, adjusting the side view mirror as
Dawson and Niner jumped into the back of the vehicle. It began to reverse as
gunfire erupted from the front, Jimmy’s AK-47 responding. They began to pick up
speed as Atlas expertly guided them toward the smaller enemy, all Delta
Operators trained in high speed driving in both directions.

Dawson
braced himself, sprawled on the floor of the transport, his AK-47 at the ready.

I wish
I had my MP5!

But he’d
have to make do. The AK-47 was a fine, reliable weapon, and it killed quite
effectively if well-aimed.

“Control,
Bravo Zero-One. ETA on those Marines?”

“Six mikes.”

“Direction
of arrival?”

“From
the south.”

“Good,
we’re heading toward them. Hopefully that’ll shave a few seconds off.”

At the
speeds the helicopters would be travelling, their barely ten-mile-per-hour
retreat would literally result in mere seconds of savings, but in a gun battle
that could mean the difference between life and death.

“New
arrivals from the south are around the next bend, over.”

“Did you hear that?” shouted Dawson.

“Affirmative!” replied Atlas as the bend in question
appeared.

“Control, type of vehicles?”

“Two troop transports, just like you’re in, over.”

“I’ll hit the passenger side of the windshield, that
should cause the driver to swerve left, exposing the rear of the transport.
I’ll take out the driver and any front seat passengers, you empty your mag into
the back.”

“Got you.”

The lead vehicle suddenly appeared from behind a stand
of trees.

“Engaging,” said Dawson into his comm as he placed two
shots into the passenger side windshield, conveniently eliminating one of the
enemy. The truck jerked to the left, as predicted, giving him a clear shot of
the driver through the passenger side window. He let out a short burst, the
AK-47 not known for its sharp-shooting abilities.

But his aim was true.

Beside him Niner’s AK pumped death at the rear of the
rapidly nearing vehicle as Atlas continued to reverse. Jimmy’s gunfire had
ceased, enough distance having been placed between them and the stalled column.
He could hear the shouts and cries of panic as those in the back of the lead
vehicle were torn apart by Niner’s well-placed shots.

Dawson took a bead on the driver of the second vehicle
as the man brought his vehicle to a stop, the soldiers in the rear pouring out.
A short burst shattered the windshield, leaving a bloody mess behind it as
Dawson turned his attention to the scrambling soldiers, Niner reloading and
quickly joining in.

Dawson felt the vehicle slow as they approached the lead
vehicle now blocking the road, gunfire being returned by the survivors.

“Control, status on northern column, over!”

“Just underway now, over.”

“Atlas,
move forward, take us back around the bend then we’ll use that stand of trees
as cover!”

“Roger
that!”

The
truck jerked forward, the engine roaring in the low gears as they surged away
from one enemy and toward a greater. The bend in the road quickly took the
southern force out of sight and Dawson slapped his hand on the metal floor,
signaling Atlas to stop. He swung out onto the road as Niner handed him the
weapons then jumped down himself. Dawson looked around the driver side of the
vehicle at Atlas.