shots with purpose and relying on some hard-earned instincts.
Keeping his eyes
constantly moving, Marcus quickly sized up individual targets and focused on
the greatest threats. Ultimately, Marcus knew that engagements were won and
lost based on leadership. Consequently, he looked
for men yelling or pointing, and he promptly fired a heavy round from his AK-47
through them. The 7.62 x 39 mm, 120-grain bullet hit them so hard that most
didn’t require a second shot.
Red, however, followed no
such strategy and picked off the men below with how he’d always done
everything. With a mad, unshakable determination. He watched the surviving men
below him with deep satisfaction. Among the surviving few, Red recognized a
subtle change had swept over them.
What had been a hoard of
confident warriors running headlong into battle now looked like a frantic
scattering of startled chickens. Red could see it in their actions, if not in
their eyes. It was a look that Red knew very well.
It was the same look that
eventually dawned upon every big man who went to square up with little Red.
Every single time. There was that small, but deliciously validating moment. The
very moment they realized just how greatly they’d underestimated their
opponent, and how much they were going to hurt in the morning. Red called it
the “Oh Shit! Moment.”
Chapter 18
The entire
fight with the villagers ended in ninety seconds. All fire from the villagers
had stopped though many moaned or cried from their positions.
“What do you
say, sir?” Red asked, looking at Nick. “We can’t leave any survivors, right?”
He had
crawled out from the net and now stood, waiting for Nick’s answer.
Nick
hesitated, looking to Marcus.
Marcus, an honorable man
if there ever was one, shook his head “no” without a moment’s hesitation. His
years as a drill instructor at Parris Island had molded him into a man with the
highest standards and uncompromising integrity. Marcus would never be the type
of man that would agree to shoot survivors.
“Marcus is
right,” Nick said. “Besides, we don’t need to waste our ammo.”
“We could
use their weapons and ammo,” Truck said, standing to join Red outside the net.
Nick knew Truck was hardly
the shining example of a healthy conscience. He was a bull-headed man who had
not only been kicked out of Special Forces for beating the shit out of an
incompetent officer, but he’d also been fired as a military contractor after he
defied orders, abandoned his company vehicle, and ran pell-mell into a Taliban
ambush. Although knowing the stories behind these incidents had made it easier
for Nick to understand Truck’s actions, Nick believed the results might have
been a little less devastating to Truck’s career if he had avoided trying to
solve all his problems with violence.
Nevertheless,
Nick leaned Red and Truck’s way. The last thing they needed was someone
hobbling off and alerting the entire country that there were four armed
Americans hiding in the mountains.
Marcus slid
forward under the net so he could see Nick better.
“Don’t do
this, Nick,” he stressed. “We’re better than this. Besides, the timeline favors
us. We can pack our shit up, head further up the mountain range, and work a
circular route toward Ahmud al-Habshi’s compound. Even if someone stumbles upon
the men below, they won’t have time to track and find us before dark. Not to
mention, there won’t be time to get a warning out to al-Habshi. There are no
cell towers here, and there’s not enough time to get down the hill, locate a
vehicle, and drive there before dark.”
Nick gripped his face with
one hand and nodded toward Marcus. Maybe I’m getting soft, he thought. Marcus
had made several good points. For once, time was on their side. And besides all
that, Nick already had a hard enough time sleeping at night.
“We let them
live,” he said to Red. “But take Truck with you and collect any ammo
Keeping his eyes
constantly moving, Marcus quickly sized up individual targets and focused on
the greatest threats. Ultimately, Marcus knew that engagements were won and
lost based on leadership. Consequently, he looked
for men yelling or pointing, and he promptly fired a heavy round from his AK-47
through them. The 7.62 x 39 mm, 120-grain bullet hit them so hard that most
didn’t require a second shot.
Red, however, followed no
such strategy and picked off the men below with how he’d always done
everything. With a mad, unshakable determination. He watched the surviving men
below him with deep satisfaction. Among the surviving few, Red recognized a
subtle change had swept over them.
What had been a hoard of
confident warriors running headlong into battle now looked like a frantic
scattering of startled chickens. Red could see it in their actions, if not in
their eyes. It was a look that Red knew very well.
It was the same look that
eventually dawned upon every big man who went to square up with little Red.
Every single time. There was that small, but deliciously validating moment. The
very moment they realized just how greatly they’d underestimated their
opponent, and how much they were going to hurt in the morning. Red called it
the “Oh Shit! Moment.”
Chapter 18
The entire
fight with the villagers ended in ninety seconds. All fire from the villagers
had stopped though many moaned or cried from their positions.
“What do you
say, sir?” Red asked, looking at Nick. “We can’t leave any survivors, right?”
He had
crawled out from the net and now stood, waiting for Nick’s answer.
Nick
hesitated, looking to Marcus.
Marcus, an honorable man
if there ever was one, shook his head “no” without a moment’s hesitation. His
years as a drill instructor at Parris Island had molded him into a man with the
highest standards and uncompromising integrity. Marcus would never be the type
of man that would agree to shoot survivors.
“Marcus is
right,” Nick said. “Besides, we don’t need to waste our ammo.”
“We could
use their weapons and ammo,” Truck said, standing to join Red outside the net.
Nick knew Truck was hardly
the shining example of a healthy conscience. He was a bull-headed man who had
not only been kicked out of Special Forces for beating the shit out of an
incompetent officer, but he’d also been fired as a military contractor after he
defied orders, abandoned his company vehicle, and ran pell-mell into a Taliban
ambush. Although knowing the stories behind these incidents had made it easier
for Nick to understand Truck’s actions, Nick believed the results might have
been a little less devastating to Truck’s career if he had avoided trying to
solve all his problems with violence.
Nevertheless,
Nick leaned Red and Truck’s way. The last thing they needed was someone
hobbling off and alerting the entire country that there were four armed
Americans hiding in the mountains.
Marcus slid
forward under the net so he could see Nick better.
“Don’t do
this, Nick,” he stressed. “We’re better than this. Besides, the timeline favors
us. We can pack our shit up, head further up the mountain range, and work a
circular route toward Ahmud al-Habshi’s compound. Even if someone stumbles upon
the men below, they won’t have time to track and find us before dark. Not to
mention, there won’t be time to get a warning out to al-Habshi. There are no
cell towers here, and there’s not enough time to get down the hill, locate a
vehicle, and drive there before dark.”
Nick gripped his face with
one hand and nodded toward Marcus. Maybe I’m getting soft, he thought. Marcus
had made several good points. For once, time was on their side. And besides all
that, Nick already had a hard enough time sleeping at night.
“We let them
live,” he said to Red. “But take Truck with you and collect any ammo
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