David Golemon - Legacy

“Damn it, Jack, where the hell did you go?” Carl asked as three explosions rocked the gallery below. As he looked up he saw that instead of the terrorists assisting the soldiers below by firing on the metal monstrosities, they were actually firing into the retreating soldiers.

“Sons of bitches,” Everett said, as he vaulted over Tram and continued climbing. The Vietnamese private waited a split second and then went in another direction.

Everett knew Jack was heading for the mortar pit. The problem was that they didn’t exactly know where it was on the high wall overlooking the gallery below. They hadn’t been shot at yet, so after Jack was hit they must have detoured their firing to another spot.

Everett knew that they and their men below were running desperately short of time.

The Mechanic made sure Alice was secure on the rocky incline and he raised his radio. A few minutes before he had seen several men run headlong into the blockhouse three hundred yards away.

“Place three rounds of HE into that blockhouse. There are men holing up in there.”

The Mechanic was getting ready to turn and face Alice once more when he saw a sight that froze him to the spot. There was a man approaching the mortar pit from above. He raised his radio, but knew the warning would come too late. He sent forward a squad of men, ordering them to kill that man and make sure they didn’t damage the mortar. He cursed himself for underestimating this American colonel.

He reached down and pulled Alice to her feet. For her part, she didn’t resist or try to twist away. The Mechanic saw the knowing smile on her face.

“Having problems down below?” she asked. “The colonel can be rather a pain in the ass, can’t he?”

The Mechanic shook Alice by the arm, making her wince but not cry out.

“The rest of you, we will change our position in case this American gets lucky. I want ten of you to get to the blockhouse by any means and kill everyone inside. Then bring me back the weapons. We will meet you at the gallery that leads to the underground river. Hurry, our transport is waiting.” He looked down at Alice. “I hope you can swim, old one. If not, you will remain with your friends forever in this underground hell.”

“Those metal monsters down there have more honor than you,” Alice said as she was pulled along the ridge.

“Then you will not mind spending your last minutes with them.”

Jack saw the three ammunition runners, two mortar men, and three guards-eight men altogether. He ducked his head back below the rocks where he had hidden himself. He checked his ammunition clip. He had seven nine-millimeter rounds. He then removed his KA-BAR knife from its sheath. He winced as he felt the broken rib where the bullet had lodged. He used his wrist to check the wound and knew he was bleeding heavily. He looked up and saw the two metal giants tearing into the hiding place where Sebastian had managed to lead most of the men.

Collins knew he was slowly bleeding to death, as the blood was flowing far too quickly from a wound he hadn’t initially thought that serious. He knew the bullet must have clipped an artery. He grimaced at his bad luck at not seeing the sniper guarding the mortar pit before it was too late. He shot the man who had shot him, but only after he had run headlong into his position, a move that had taken them both by surprise.

As he took the rocks one loose step at a time, another hollow thump sounded from below. Jack stopped and saw the mortar round arc into the cavern’s interior, where it nearly clipped the stalactites far above and then sailed downward. It landed mere feet from Sebastian’s entrenched troops. He even saw the first massive robot recoil from the explosion. Then, as if nothing had happened, the machine started digging, tossing large stones that appeared to weigh in excess of three tons out of its way. It recommenced pulling and prying at the stone and the long dead lava flow, trying to get at the troops.

“By God, that’s enough,” Jack hissed, and then jumped the last ten feet, landing in the mortar pit that had been dug into the rubble on the side of the gallery wall.

In the split second before he hit the side of the gallery, Jack shot the man, who had just dropped a mortar round into the large tube.

Collins had hit too hard. He momentarily lost sight of the mortar crew as he slammed into the rocks and then fell onto his chest and face. He hurriedly brought up his nine-millimeter and fired at the man adjusting the sighting of the mortar tube. The bullet caught the man in the side, spinning him into the rock wall. Jack knew he had slowed his reactions down with a hastily planned jump from above. He tried to struggle into some semblance of a firing position. A bullet clipped his left arm just above the elbow and another missed his head by a mere inch. He brought the nine-millimeter around and shot the first thing he saw. It just happened to be the two men carrying the M224 sixty-millimeter lightweight mortar rounds to the pit from a place where they had stored cases of projectiles. The first bullet hit the lead man in the chest, knocking him back into the second. Both of them dropped the rounds they were carrying. Jack aimed quickly and shot the second man as he hit the rock wall beside him. Both had been taken off guard by Jack’s makeshift assault.

Collins had no time to catch his breath. He felt a presence behind him. It was one of the pit guards and spun at the last moment, bringing the gun up. He was far too late, as the man anticipated his move and slammed the barrel of his AK-47 against Jack’s wrist, breaking the bone and spinning Collins to his right. As he spun, he brought the knife in his left hand to bear and caught the terrorist by surprise just as he thought he had caught the American. The knife sliced cleanly through the man’s throat, forcing his hands up. As Jack arrested the momentum of the blow to his wrist, he recovered quickly, before the dying man could get a lucky shot off out of reflex. He thrust with the knife one last time and caught the man before he could figure out that he had been killed. The Russian-made weapon fell to the rocky path the man had used. Jack slammed into the wall and turned, thinking he might catch his breath, only to see the ten men that the Mechanic had dispatched coming down the rock incline directly toward the pit.

As Jack went on both of his knees to retrieve the dropped nine-millimeter, he had to use his left hand for the remaining six bullets. That was when he saw the third ammunition carrier, followed by the last two guards. He fired with his shaky left hand and hit the most dangerous targets, the two guards, first. One of the bullets hit the lead guard in the face, slamming him against the ammunition carrier. The second bullet hit the ammunition carrier by mistake, allowing the trailing guard to take aim at the surprise attack by Collins. The guard saw his chance and pressed the trigger.

Jack flinched as he realized he had made a mistake. He should have been more deliberate in his aiming. He waited. The bullet never came. The man just stood there, unmoving. Then he saw the terrorist slowly fall forward. Jack shook his head as he saw Carl Everett standing behind the man with his own knife. He had dropped down right behind the trailing man and killed him as he aimed his weapon.

“It took you long enough,” Jack said, then went down to both knees.

Everett took two long strides forward and lifted Collins to his feet.

“Yeah, well, if I had a commanding officer who explained a plan before he acted on it, I would have been here sooner.” Everett helped Jack to a small rock and set him down. Collins slapped at his hands and pushed them away. He pointed.

“More men coming,” he said, as he grew light-headed.