David Golemon - Ripper

Farbeaux squinted and then half smiled. “Your confidence in my military prowess is … overwhelming, Jack.”

Farbeaux watched as Jack left to join Everett, charging a round into the suppressed M-14 carbine.

The lights being out gave them a small tactical advantage. But Collins suspected that Guzman wasn’t the type of leader who favored saving the lives of his men, so he knew they couldn’t make it so expensive that the Anaconda would back off.

As Jack took aim slightly above Everett, who was on one knee with his ambient-light goggles already down, he looked at his friend.

“We hit ’em hard with no warning. We pile up their bodies until they can’t come through.”

“Good plan … I guess,” Everett said as he removed the safety on his carbine. “Okay, they’re on the last set of stairs.”

The pounding of feet was louder and then they heard before they saw the first man as he gained the bottom floor. Collins placed his hand on Everett, staying him from firing at the first one.

Through the greenish light of their goggles they saw the man stop and stare into the darkness of the now empty cell. He turned just as the Anaconda himself entered the subbasement. Jack recognized him immediately and aimed for his head. Just at that moment the lead man saw the danger and jumped in front of Guzman. The first silenced round, which in the closed space of the subbasement wasn’t silent at all, struck the man in the back of his head just as Everett fired.

“Damn it,” Jack hissed as he saw Guzman go down with his dead guard draped over him.

They all heard rapid-fire Spanish coming from the darkness ahead and more men flooded through the large open staircase.

That was when Collins and Everett opened up in earnest. They took the first four with no problem and then saw the next two men start to drag the dazed Guzman out from under the dead man covering him. Jack aimed and dropped one, but the other stayed up even as Everett’s next three rounds struck him in the torso. His weight falling backward was enough to get the Anaconda near the stairway door where more hands lifted him and pulled him to safety.

“There goes the quick solution,” Everett said as he fired another three-round burst at the men streaming through the door. They were now taking cover on the far side of the old cell. Rounds were pinging off the steel and chipping large chunks of old concrete and adobe from the walls as Jack and Carl laid down a withering fire on the attackers.

Just as Collins’s first magazine emptied, Guzman’s men started to return fire at a far more rapid rate than either career soldier would have given them credit for. Bullets started shattering the corner of the wall that was covering them as Everett stopped to reload.

“Damn fine shooting in the dark,” Everett said as he slammed home another thirty-round magazine.

“Remember, Captain, these … men have been … fighting a real war down here for … nearly five … years.”

Carl chanced a look behind him and saw that Farbeaux had managed to crawl forward and was actually trying to aim the Beretta in the direction of the attack. As he shook his head and turned to fire, Henri’s aim proved to be as good as either Jack’s or his own as three men fell inside of the cell.

With the flare of the enemy weapons, Jack raised his goggles and then tossed them away, as did Everett. The bright flashes were overwhelming the ambient-light devices and they were firing blind.

Suddenly they heard footsteps directly over their heads and without thinking it through, Collins pulled Everett backward by the body armor covering his back. As they fell back, Henri saw what was happening and fired the remaining rounds in the nine millimeter and then rolled to join his two allies.

Just as they cleared the area, a loud explosion rocked the subbasement, sending wood and concrete downward in a killing arc of shrapnel.

“Damn cheaters,” Everett said as he rose and emptied another magazine up and into the smoldering hole that had just been opened up above them.

As Jack added fire to the new opening, they heard another, far louder weapon open up next to them. Will Mendenhall had joined the fight with his MP-5. He sprayed the first fifteen rounds at the men trying to advance through the corridor and then raised the hot and smoking weapon at the same spot Everett and Collins were firing at. As he stopped to change magazines he slapped Everett on the shoulder.

“Time to go! Sarah has the girls heading down the tunnel!”

“Right,” Everett said as he stopped firing and then unceremoniously grabbed the wounded Farbeaux by the collar and started dragging him toward the missing floorboards.

There was another explosion and a hole magically appeared just in front of the cell where Guzman’s men had taken cover. Collins heard something fall through the opening as the gunfire let up and the Anaconda’s men saw what had been thrown into the lower floor. They tried to scramble out, but it was too late. The grenade detonated and men were thrown in every direction.

“Now that’s a real nice guy,” Mendenhall said as he added bullets to the shrapnel near the darkened cell area.

“I don’t think I want to be here when this asshole gets serious. Go Will, go!”

Mendenhall followed Jack’s orders and rolled halfway to the hole in the wooden flooring. He waited as Everett shoved Farbeaux roughly through the opening and then jumped after him. Will heard more men pouring into the basement from the stairs and even saw two or three fall through the second hole they had made. He started to lower himself when he saw a shotgun barrel poke through the blast hole directly where they had been a moment before. He started sliding into the hole before he could aim. Jack was about to be shot from above as Will fired blindly upward as he vanished through the floorboards. One of the rounds hit the man aiming his lethal weapon at the top of his head. Collins never knew how close he had come to having his head blown off as he jumped in after Mendenhall.

Collins missed landing on Mendenhall by a mere foot. He rolled and came up inside the old laboratory. He fired two more times at the spot where he had just jumped, but that didn’t stop one of Guzman’s men from getting through the missing floorboards. He saw the man struggling with something. Jack aimed and fired, but nothing happened. The man struggled to his knees and then raised his right arm into the air. As Collins froze for the briefest of moments, two aimed rounds struck the man in the neck and chest, dropping him, but not before he managed to do what he came to do. Henri Farbeaux immediately pulled Jack down.

“Grenade!” the Frenchman shouted.

Everett and Mendenhall immediately dove for cover as the small round object sailed over their heads and landed next to the excavated hole they had entered the old laboratory through. The grenade exploded. Several small pieces of shrapnel struck Everett in the shoulder and Will in the right arm. But they would have considered themselves lucky if that had been all the damage done. The bulk of the grenade’s power smashed against the dirt opening to the lab, collapsing the ceiling and sending wood reinforcement and dirt cascading down, blocking their escape.

Jack shook himself and then stood, pulling Henri up as he did. “Thanks, Colonel.”

Farbeaux didn’t answer as he took in the mess around him. Through the smoke and dust he saw Everett and Mendenhall stand and look around — they were both dazed from the concussive effects of the explosion. Then he spied the cave-in.

“I take it that was the way out of here,” he asked as he ejected the now empty clip from the Beretta. He looked at Jack and then swiped blood from his right eye.

“You’re as observant as ever, Henri,” Collins said as he rushed forward, handing the Frenchman three more clips of ammunition as he did.