Fire Force(128)

Steve leaned his shoulder into the side of the Land Rover, craning forwards to see what was happening. The carrier was advancing steadily up the track, its driver pushing it up to thirty miles an hour, but careful of the treacherous road ahead. It was impossible to see where the bombs had landed: they must have already sunk into the mud.

There can only be a few seconds left, thought Steve. So long as the sparklers haven’t gone out.

Nick, Dan and David had taken up position behind the Land Rover, the FNs slotted into their shoulders, ready to fire. But shooting into an armoured troop carrier was useless: their bullets were likely to bounce off it harmlessly. And if the enemy had RPGs in there, they could blast them from the safety of their cabin.

And then we’re done for.

The first extinguisher exploded with a terrifying roar. It kicked up a hailstorm of mud and dirt, much of it flying into the windscreen of the oncoming vehicle. Steve could hear the screech of brakes as the driver tried desperately to bring the machine under control but, as he’d already discovered, it was hard to get much traction on the slippery surface of the track.

Another explosion. It was louder this time, right under the carrier, rolling it sideways, bursting all the tyres simultaneously. As the initial force of the explosion started to die down, the casings of the fire extinguishers fragmented into hundreds of pieces, sending a rainstorm of red-hot shrapnel flying in every direction. The temperature and sharpness of the metal made it lethal, melting skin on contact, and cutting straight into muscle and bone. The carrier wobbled again, then crashed onto its side. Three corpses fell out of the back. Two more men struggled out, but they were so badly wounded by the shrapnel, their faces shredded, and their eyes gouged out, that they only managed a couple of paces before they fell into the mud and died. The driver looked to have been crushed by the fall of the vehicle, pinned down: if he wasn’t dead already, he soon would be.

But three men had walked clear of the carrier. Two were laying down round after round from their AKs, whilst the third was lining up a shot on his RPG. As he detonated the explosive, Steve could hear the familiar sound of the missile flying through the air, like a drill cutting through stone, but he could see as well that the man hadn’t got his sights in yet, and the shell was going to fly harmlessly over their heads. Sure enough, it exploded twenty yards behind their position, kicking up a fresh shower of water and mud but doing no damage.

The soldier was lowering his sights.

He’s finding his range, realised Steve. The next one’s coming right at us.

‘Finish the bastards!’ yelled Steve.

He started to run. His boots were sliding across the mud, but he could feel the adrenaline pummelling inside him. His blood was up, and he started steeling himself for the ferocity of the fight ahead. At his side, Dan and Nick were running as well, whilst Ollie was leading a charge from the second vehicle. It was an old-fashioned infantry assault: there was nothing clever about it, just muscle and steel organised into a hammer blow, knocking down everything in its path.

Steve slammed his finger on the trigger of the FN, loosening off a couple of rounds, not even trying to hit anything, just getting the feel of the weapon. The two soldiers were staggering backwards, firing wildly on the AK-47s, but at the rate there were wasting ammo, their mags would soon be spent. The third man, with the RPG mounted on his shoulder, was desperately trying to resight his weapon. A single missile into the oncoming horde could blow it away. He knew that, and he knew that he had to hold himself together to have any chance of landing the punch that could yet save their lives: staying calm under fire was the first and most important lesson any soldier learned.

But he was struggling. His hands were shaking and he was flinching as the bullets ripped into his position. And when he got his shot away, it sailed harmlessly over their heads once more, and fell straight into the long grass behind. The racket of the explosion split through the air, but noise wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Only gunpowder and steel would do that, Steve reflected in one of the odd moments of calm that came upon him during the heat of a battle. Thirty more yards. We can hit them at twenty - and with that thought he powered himself closer to the enemy.

The bullets spitting from the barrels of the FNs started to chew into their targets. One man had already fallen, his body spilling blood into the dark, reddish mud. The remaining pair were falling back, trying to take cover behind their carrier, but the volleys of fire were catching them as they ran, spinning their bodies around, and pushing them into the ground. By the time Steve was amongst them, the battle was finished, won. He looked around, searching for anyone left alive, but all the men were dead.