Desperado (Murphy's Lawless: Watch the Skies Book 2), Kevin Ikenberry [reading the story of the txt] 📗

“Copy, Fastlane.” He heard Fahey release the transmit button and then press it again. “Gunsmoke Lead, this is Hotel California. LZ secure. Over.”

The Huey’s lead pilot, Sergei Karlovich, drawled in reply, “Copy, California. Flight of two gunships thirty seconds out. Over.”

“Copy, thirty seconds. Weapons free. Some remaining militia on the ground,” Fahey said.

“We’ll mop up the stragglers. Just hold that LZ. Shadower is eight minutes behind. Gunsmoke Lead, out.”

* * *

As he fell, Bo bit the inside of his cheek hard enough that warm, coppery blood filled his mouth.

“Fuck!”

The surrounding dirt practically exploded with the impacts of enemy rounds. He pushed with his good leg and dug his elbows into the ground hard enough to split the fabric. Head down, he pushed again and felt a powerful hand grab him under his left armpit. Aliza was there, on her knees, straining to drag him behind her improvised cover with her one good arm.

“Yalla!” she grunted and fell backward, pulling his head and shoulders behind the water trough. He scrambled around quickly.

“You okay?” He blinked dust out of his eyes and stared at her for a long second.

“I’m fine. You’re the one who got shot.”

“Don’t remind me,” Bo replied. He moved into a crouch of sorts, with his good leg underneath him. He brought up the rifle, flipped the selector switch to automatic, and raised it blindly over the trough’s edge. He pulled the trigger and held it for a couple of seconds, just long enough for the last eight or nine rounds in the magazine to be fired. As the weapon stopped, the noise from the other end of the street diminished. Her pursuers were likely taking stock of the new threat.

Without looking, he fished another magazine out of his load-bearing harness while his other hand held the rifle at the junction of the upper and lower receivers. He ejected the empty magazine and slapped the new one into place. Bo yanked the charging handle back and let it go, slamming a new round into the chamber. Out of habit, he tapped the forward assist mechanism to seat the cartridge and readied himself to pop up for another burst. More rounds tore into the far side of the trough and the building above them. In the swirling dust and rain of rocky debris, he stared up at Aliza.

“I don’t have a radio. The others don’t know we’re here, Aliza. They’re gonna be coming, but we have to hold our own.”

She didn’t respond.

“Do you have a weapon?”

“Yes,” she said. “But it’s useless with my arm like this.”

“What happened?”

“A man came after me, Bo. One of the high-value targets. He beat me with a metal rod.”

Bo shook his head. The volume of fire from the end of the street seemed to double and then triple before it waned again. “I’m sorry we didn’t get here in time. Look, I’ve got one more magazine, Aliza. Thirty rounds. It’s not enough to stop those guys. We have to get you out of here.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Can you run or not?”

“I can,” she said.

“Then get ready,” Bo replied. He rose up and blindly fired a quick burst over the edge of the trough. “This isn’t going to hold them back for long.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Bo grinned. “When I get up the next time, I want you to run. Get to the wall and move west. Stay along the wall; the fight’s closer to the dwellings. There’s a breach on the western side of the glacis. Get there if you can. If not, get to Lieutenant Stewart and the others.”

“What about you?”

Bo shrugged. “You’ve got intel on these guys, right? Know someone who might fit the profile Murphy gave you?”

“There are a few, yes.”

“If you die here in the street, he doesn’t get that information. You can run, so you’re gonna run. Got it?”

Aliza nodded. Her dark eyes were wide. As he studied her face, carving it into his memory, tears brimmed and ran down her cheeks. He reached out to catch one with his hand and inadvertently smeared dirt on her cheek.

“Why are you frowning?” she asked.

Bo raised the rifle over his head and fired another quick burst. “I can plan an attack, take a whole damned town in the process, but I can’t ask the woman I love to marry me.”

She laughed through her sudden tears—a surprised yelp of a sob. “You have impeccable timing, Hubert Moorefield.”

He laughed. “Guess so.”

“My answer is yes.” She reached out with her good hand and squeezed his arm. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he squeaked out of his tightening jaw. He cleared his throat and pushed the emotion back. “Now, get ready to run, Aliza. Get Stewart and come back. I’ll cover you for as long as I—”

An unearthly scream echoed along the street. Weapons fire erupted, louder and with a higher volume than before, but the surrounding air was still. Bo put the rifle to his shoulder and eased up to look over the trough, but ready to drop if seen.

Whinnies filled the far end of the street by the waterfall. Athena roared from the midst of the collected militia and soldiers, thrashing and stomping her mighty feet. Another whinnie lay on the ground, bleeding profusely and writhing in the street.

“Sonuvabitch!” Bo stood fully. “Stay here, Aliza.”

His rifle up in its firing position, Bo limped into the street. As a target appeared, he fired. Again, and again. Ambling toward the engagement and trying not to hit the whinnies in and among the enemy, Bo pressed forward. His mind was calm, almost detached. A part of him recognized the threat, and even the larger picture, but he was wholly outside it, something he’d first felt in a skirmish