Elle James - Five Ways To Surrender

“Wilco.” Dalton “Diesel” Landon waited until Pitbull pulled several vehicle lengths ahead.

Graham “Buck” Buckner climbed out of Diesel’s vehicle and raised his M4A1 rifle at the ready.

Harm, already on the other side of Pitbull’s vehicle, moved forward as the SUV inched along at a slow, steady pace.

Buck and Trace “T-Mac” McGuire brought up the rear of Diesel’s SUV. Every SEAL on the ground had an M4A1 carbine rifle with the Special Operations Peculiar Modification (SOPMOD) upgrade. Pitbull and Diesel had their weapons in the SUVs, within easy reach.

At that moment, Jake wished he had an HK MP5 submachine gun with several fully loaded clips. That prickly feeling was getting worse by the minute. Jake didn’t see the normal congregation of women and children outside the huts. In fact, since they’d arrived outside the village, those people who had been hanging around had all disappeared.

“Let’s move a little faster,” Jake urged. “The village appears to be a ghost town.”

“Something’s up,” Harm agreed.

“I thought this was supposed to be a routine fact-finding mission,” T-Mac said.

“‘Don’t engage,’ they said.” Buck mimicked the intel officer who’d briefed them in Djibouti. “Well, what if they engage us first?”

“That’s when all bets are off.” Jake’s hold tightened on his rifle.

The lead vehicle had passed the village and was moving along the dirt road leading to the next village when an explosion ripped through the air.

“What the hell was that?” Diesel asked.

“We’ve got incoming!” Harm yelled. “Someone’s got an RPG and they’re targeting our vehicles.”

Another rocket hit the ground fifty yards from where Jake stood. He dropped to a squat and waited for the dust to clear.

When it did, he counted half a dozen men in black garb and turbans rushing toward him, firing AK-47s.

“They fired first,” Jake said, returning fire. “Six Tangos incoming from the west.” He took out two and kept firing.

“I count five from the east,” Harm said from the other side of the SUV. Sounds of gunfire filled the air.

“Got a truckload of them coming straight at us on the road,” Pitbull said.

“I count at least half a dozen comin’ at us from the rear,” T-Mac reported.

“We’re surrounded,” Buck said. “Use the SUVs for cover.”

The men rolled under the SUVs and fired from beneath.

“Guys, get out from under the lead vehicle!” Pitbull yelled. “They’re going to ram us!”

Jake rolled out from under and kept rolling, staying as low to the ground as he could, firing every time he came back to the prone position. He slipped into a slight depression in the hard-packed dirt and fired at the black-garbed men coming at him.

A loud bang sounded along with the screech of metal slamming into metal.

Giving only the fleetest of glances, Jake’s heart plummeted. The lead SUV had been knocked several feet back from where it had been standing. If Harm hadn’t made it out in time, he would have been crushed by the ramming enemy truck.

“Pitbull?” Jake held his breath, awaiting his friend’s response.

“I’m good,” Pitbull said. “Shaken, not stirred. I shot the truck driver before he hit.”

“Good. Everyone else,” Jake said, “sound off.”

In quick succession, the other four men reported in.

“Harm.”

“T-Mac.”

“Buck.”

“Diesel.”

A man leaped up from the ground and ran toward Jake.

The navy SEAL fired, cutting him down, only to have another man take his place and rush his position. He pulled the trigger. At the last minute, the attacker swerved right. The bullet nicked him, but didn’t slow him down.

Jake pulled the trigger again, only nothing happened. He pushed the release button, and the magazine dropped at the same time as he reached for another. Slamming the full magazine into the weapon, Jake fired point-blank as the man flung himself at Jake.

The bullet sailed right through the man’s chest, and he fell on top of Jake.

For a moment, Jake was crushed by the man’s weight. He couldn’t move and couldn’t free his hands to fire his weapon.

Gunfire blasted all around. Dust choked the air and made locating the enemy difficult at best.

Jake pushed aside the dead man and glanced around.

“They fell back,” Buck said. “But they’re regrouping.”

“Get in the rear SUV and get the hell out of here,” Jake said. “I’ll cover.”

Buck and T-Mac jumped into the rear SUV. Diesel revved the engine and raced up to the destroyed one.

The doors were flung open. “Get in,” Buck said.

Harm ran alongside the vehicle, refusing to get inside. Pitbull pulled himself into the front passenger seat.

The enemy soldiers raced to follow them.

Jake laid down suppressive fire, emptying a thirty-round magazine in seconds.

“We’re not leaving without you!” Harm yelled.

Jake shook his head and kept firing. “Get in the damned vehicle. I’ll remain on the ground and cover.”

Harm complied and the SUV moved forward, using the crashed SUV for cover.

Jake popped out the expended magazine and slammed in one of the last two he had.

The enemy soldiers either hit the ground when they caught a bullet, or dived low to avoid getting hit. Either way, Jake’s gunfire slowed their movement. But not for long. “Go!” he yelled, lurched to his feet and backed up to the enemy truck without letting up his suppressive fire against the oncoming threat. “You have to leave now. It’s the only way any of us are getting out of this alive.”

Jake flung open the door of the truck, dragged the dead driver out and climbed behind the steering wheel. He hung his rifle out the window and fired with his left hand. “I’ll head for the hills, head south, get to safety and come back when you have sufficient backup.” He started the engine and attempted to reverse. The front grill of the truck hung on the grill of the damaged SUV.

“I don’t like it,” Diesel said into Jake’s earpiece.

“You don’t have to,” Jake said. “Just go before I run out of bullets.”

Diesel pulled away in the SUV.

Jake fired again, laying down a barrage of bullets at the men advancing on his position. He ducked low as bullets hit the windshield and pinged off the metal frame of the truck. He shifted into Drive, hit the accelerator and slammed the SUV. Then he shoved the shift into Reverse and gunned the engine. The SUV dragged along with him for several feet until the front grill broke free.

Jake backed up fast and considered racing after the other SUV. But, already, another truck had appeared from the direction of the village. If he didn’t take out the oncoming vehicle, the rest of his team would gain little lead time on the enemy.

Shifting into Drive, Jake revved the engine and shifted his foot off the brake. The truck shot forward, plowing through the line of attackers, knocking some down and scattering the rest.

Driving head-on toward the truck, Jake held true, daring the other driver to back down first but guessing he wouldn’t.

At the last moment, Jake grabbed his rifle, flung open the door and threw himself out of the truck. He hit the ground hard, tucked and somersaulted, his weapon pressed close to his chest.

The truck he’d been driving plowed into the other with the clash of metal on metal. Both vehicles shook and then settled, smoke and steam rising from the engines.

Jake didn’t wait around to see what the remaining jihadist would do. He jerked a smoke grenade from his vest, pulled the ring, tossed it behind him and then ran toward the only cover he had—the short, squat mud-and-stick huts of the village clustered against a bluff. He figured the enemy wouldn’t start looking for him there.