Уильям Мейкл - Operation - Syria

Banks saw her looking.

“They’ve lost interest. There’s been no movement for an hour or more. It’s a Mexican standoff, for now. But it’ll be dusk soon enough and I’m going to have to break the deadlock without getting us all killed if we want to get out of here.”

Maggie looked to where thick webbing covered the alleyways that were their exits from the courtyard. She saw the problem.

“Even if you burned the mass of web there, the spiders could drop on us from above.”

“Aye. And there’s no guarantee that there’s not a shitload more web beyond that. We’d be caught in a tight funnel, under pressure of numbers, with too little ammo for a prolonged firefight. That’s one of my problems. I’ve been considering a sneak getaway through the tunnels beyond your new find. But we already know that’s also spider territory and again it’ll probably be a tight space. I’m not sure which option gives us the best chance of getting away free.”

“If I get a vote, I say try the tunnels,” she replied. “I never liked finding a spider in my hair.”

The spiders blinked first. Banks was on guard at the main door with Private Wilkins when the beasts made their move. The first sign of activity was a pair of legs reaching up to be silhouetted against the sky, then dragging a bulbous body up onto the parapet. The spider raised its front end and its fangs clacked out a rapid message that echoed long and loud around the courtyard. It was obviously a sign, a call to action, for within seconds several dozen of the dog-sized beasts had joined the first on the edge the roof.

“If they come, save your ammo, lad,” Banks said to Wilkins. “If you can’t put it down with one shot, don’t bother. And if they don’t stop after we get a few of them, we’ll fall back to the back chamber. We need to make sure we’ve got enough ammo to get us to the chopper when it comes.”

It looked like the spiders were intent on pressing their numbers advantage. All of the ones visible on the skyline began a slow, steady descent of the walls, heading for the courtyard below.

Wilkins’ face had drained of all color, his eyes wide and a bead of sweat running down the bridge of his nose.

“Steady, lad,” Banks said. “They’re only beasties. It’s not as if they’ll be shooting back at us. We’ve got the firepower advantage for the present. Keep them at a distance.”

The first one hit the ground and immediately scuttled forward, multiple red eyes fixed on their doorway. Banks waited until he was sure of his target and put a single shot into the middle of the red eye, blowing most of the front of the spider away in the process and sending the thing, now only a tangle of frantically waving legs, crashing to the ground.

Wilkins’ first shot missed his target, as did his second. By that time, a dozen of the spiders were heading at speed across the courtyard towards their position. Banks put another one of the down with a well-aimed shot then, seeing that Wilkins’ marksmanship clearly wasn’t up to the target practice required, pulled the lad back into the hallway.

“Back up, slowly,” he said. “We’re pulling back to a better position.”

He got on the headset to Hynd.

“Sarge, we’re coming in. All fall back to the chamber. But save ammo where you can. We’re going to need it later.”

He was only able to watch as three of the spiders broke away from the main pack and took note of the remains of White in the rucksack. They tore at the material in frenzy, like starving dogs after scraps, throwing fragments of nylon far and wide across the courtyard and sucking greedily at the spilled contents. Soon there was nothing remaining of White but a damp puddle on the ground and even that was already drying out in the residual heat of the day.

Hynd buzzed Banks’ headset.

“Come on back, Cap. We’ve got you covered.”

“We’ll be right there.”

Then there was no time for more talk. The approaching spiders were too close. He had to retreat, keeping himself between the spiders and Wilkins as the creatures massed in the doorway. He was able to pick off two more of them with shots to the eyes when the attack hesitated at the doorway but all his shots did was spur the rest of the spiders into action and they came on fast. He had to expend more ammo than he’d hoped to keep them at bay, even when they reached the first room in the corridor and Brock and Davies joined them in covering fire for the retreat.

They were at the second doorway and the door to the chamber opposite when more spiders scuttled in through the first room that Brock had vacated. Hynd stood at the second doorway, weapon ready, but couldn’t fire for fear of hitting the rest of them. The spiders swarmed, filling the corridor floor to ceiling, climbing over and around each other in their thirst to get at the men, the rat-a-tat clacking of their excitement as loud as the soldiers’ weapons.

There wasn’t time to get them all back to safety and get the door closed before the spiders washed over them. Banks knew it would deplete their ammo far too quickly but he had no choice but to give the order.

“Rapid fire. Take these fuckers out.”

The sound of them all firing at once was deafening in the confines of the corridor. Casings flew, the air filled with thin smoke, and dazzling muzzle flashes lit up the walls like a rock concert strobe. Bits of spider leg, body, shell, and internal fluids splashed as high as the ceiling and pooled on the floor and the noise was a deafening drum of thunder. It only lasted ten seconds but it felt like an eternity before Banks called a halt.

“Cease fire. We got the buggers.”

The corridor rang and echoed with their shots for a few seconds, then everything fell still as they looked across an expanse of torn remains of the dead beasts. Then they heard it, coming from out at the main doorway, a new, incessant rat-a-tat, sounding angry now, a chorus of spider talk, getting closer fast. A fresh attack was imminent.

“Right, that’s enough fucking about. Fall back,” Banks said. “Into the chamber and shut the door and make it fast.”

He stayed in the corridor until the last second, covering their rear while the squad filtered into the chamber. Wiggins and Brock put their shoulders to the door, inching it closed with a loud rasp and creak of stone on stone. It was nearly shut when Banks saw three more spiders appear at the far end of the corridor, already coming for him over the remains of their dead.

He let off a quick volley of three shots, then squeezed inside, helping with his weight to close the door fully. It slammed into place, shearing off a single spider leg that had appeared in the gap. It fell to the ground quivering until Wiggins ground it to bits under his heel.

“Have I told you how much I fucking hate spiders?”

“Well this is nice,” Kim said. “Back to square one.”

“Not quite,” Banks replied. “We’ve made a dent in their numbers if nothing else.”

He turned to Hynd.

“Another inventory please, Sarge. I want to know to the exact bullet how low we’re running. And get these gas canisters together. They might end up as our last line of defense.”

The scritch-scratch of spider feet on stone sounded from outside the door.

“No offence, Captain,” Kim said, “but I’ve been in this situation already. It’s lost its appeal for me.”

“And for me,” Banks replied, “but I don’t intend to stay around to experience it for any longer. We’re going out that way.”

He motioned to the gap in the wall. Maggie spoke up.

“You’ve made up your mind?”

The scratching got louder outside in the hallway and Banks smiled thinly.