He righted himself just as a high-pitched, nightmarish whistle blew past them at what felt like a million miles a minute. A rocket-propelled grenade exploded into SFC Cole's Humvee behind them. Tyke watched in horror as the vehicle ignited in flames. Men from Pearson's group immediately leaped out, taking cover behind their vehicle, where they began to shoot in the direction of where the threat was coming from.
Tyke was frozen in place. The harsh realization of what had just happened trapping him in his seat.
Four men gone. Just like that.
More will die if you don't get out of here.
Right.
He shook himself, allowing his adrenaline to take over, helping him focus on getting his men to safety.
Tyke scrounged for his radio. "Zero, this is Bravo one," he said to the team back at camp.
"Come in, Bravo one."
"We're taking enemy fire. Repeat-active enemy fire. We need QRF ASAP. Bravo two is down, and Bravo three is engaging incoming hostiles."
"What's your location, Bravo one?" Zero said.
Tyke offered the coordinates, praying like hell there was a quick reaction force in their immediate area.
"Everyone okay?" Tyke asked his guys while he waited. "Hall?" He glanced at the driver.
Hall's chin rested on his chest, head turned to the driver's window.
"Brad?" Tyke gave him a firm shake on the shoulder, which caused Hall's face to sweep from left shoulder to right. Tyke got a clear view of thick, red blood smeared across Hall's cheeks, nose, and mouth. And his eye. Jesus, there was a hollow black hole where one of his eyes had been. The other stared blankly at Tyke.
Fuck.
"Warner! McIntyre!" Tyke barked, turning toward the back seat.
McIntyre groaned behind him as shouts in a language he didn't comprehend drew closer to their vehicle.
"You still with me, McIntyre?" Tyke slid a quick glance in the guy's direction but reached for Warner.
Another groan from McIntyre and an unfocused look at Tyke.
"I'm getting you out in one second, buddy. You got it? Just one second." Tyke turned to Warner, who wasn't moving.
"We gotta get outta here, Warner," he said, extending a desperate arm toward the kid. "You hear me? We gotta go!"
The clatter of footsteps approaching. More shouting. Bullets blasted around them.
"Zero!" Tyke screamed. "Zero! I need a status. We're under fire!"
"Charlie unit is three clicks from your location and en route. ETA ten minutes, Bravo one."
Ten minutes was the equivalent of a lifetime.
Warner's eyes were closed, his head ticked an inch to the left. Then the right. A confused mumble of words Tyke couldn't make out as a deep-red trail of blood spilled out of the corner of Warner's mouth.
Tyke did a quick scan of the kid's condition, his heart hammering in his chest as gunshots sounded like booms from a cannon.
Blood. A lot of blood. Everywhere.
And then the ambush started. Bullets rained all around their vehicle, clanking and zipping through the metal like it wasn't even there. Screams in the native language pelted from their left.
Tyke ducked in his seat, yelling for his men to move as he lifted his rifle and fired back.
The enemy was messy in its tactics but effective in probability. The sheer quantity of bullets propelling their way was bound to do damage given enough time.
They had to get out now.
Opening his door and throwing himself out, Tyke used the Humvee as a shield to maneuver toward the back passenger door where McIntyre sat. He forced the door open and reached in.
Tyke threw McIntyre's arm over his shoulder and hauled him out. "You okay?" Tyke did a quick scan of the other man's disheveled camo-covered body.
Brave soldier he was, McIntyre nodded. "Something's jabbing my side, though." He tried to reach for it and winced.
Tyke glanced down at a piece of shrapnel the size of a mailing envelope lodged into McIntyre's oblique. "Shit," he said under his breath.
"What?" McIntyre asked, his light-blue eyes pleading with Tyke. "What is it?"
"Nothin', buddy. You're good." Tyke gripped the guy's rifle. "I need you to use this. I need cover to get Warner out. You up for it?"
McIntyre coughed, blood still trailing down his slightly stubbled cleft chin. "Yeah. Yeah. I got you, man."
Tyke paused, giving him another once over. McIntyre's rifle shook as he lifted it in to position. The other man shuffled to the back end of the vehicle, using the corner for cover. Then he let out an animalistic growl and began firing.
"Go!" he screamed. "I got you!"
Tyke jumped into the Humvee, tugging at his friend by the shoulders. Warner mumbled incoherent sentences about Diana Ross and stuff about his girlfriend back home in Kentucky.
"I know, Scottie," Tyke said. "I'm gonna get you out, and you're gonna go see her. Just stay tough, okay?" Tyke ignored the sear of pain in his own shoulder, and the pitiful yelp Scottie made as Tyke yanked him out of the Humvee and guided him on to his back on the dirt road.
Warner's face shined with sweat and grime. His expression contorted in pain as he fisted his side where a large patch of dark blood stained his shirt. "It hurts. Fuck, it hurts. Tyke, you gotta help me. Help me, man. I gotta go home and see my girl."
Tyke's mind immediately went to Kenna. Fuck, he missed her. It had been months since they'd been able to video chat. Weeks since he'd called.
"We're gettin' married, Sarge," Scottie said. "Did I tell you that?" He gave a lopsided grin. "I asked her last week. She said yes. When I go home, we're making it official."
Tyke swallowed his emotion, remembering an almost-identical conversation he'd had with Kenna. He'd promised her he'd come back. They'd get married. Start a family.
He'd promised her.
They had to survive this. He never made a promise he couldn't keep.
"You will," he said to Warner. "I'm gonna get you patched up real good. You're gonna go home to your girl. I promise. We all are."
"Even Hall?" Warner asked. "Where's Hall?"
Tyke didn't comment. He was beyond words. Instead, he reached for the med kit. Opening it, Bryan retrieved the anti-coagulant and bandages. He ripped Warner's shirt open and poured the white powder on his wound.
Blood seeped from under Warner's body into a dark, red puddle on the road. Tyke did his best not to look. He closed his eyes and shoved away the anger surging through him.
"Ammo!" McIntyre yelled. "I need ammo!"
Shouts erupted behind them, Pearson's team seeming to lose ground against a force that was three times their size in quantity.
"Zero," Tyke yelled into his radio to base camp. "Where the fuck are those reinforcements?"
"On the way, Bravo one. Three minutes. Just hang tight."
Any longer and it wouldn't be an issue.
Tyke divested himself of his rifle, tossing it in McIntyre's direction. The guy picked it up and looked back at Tyke with a look of forfeit. "We're not gonna make-"
"Shut the fuck up," Tyke barked. "Yes, we are."
"Leave me, Sarge," Warner said with a hand latched onto Tyke's arm. "I'm only pinning you down. You and McIntyre got a shot to escape. Get outta here."
"Not leavin' you," Tyke said through locked back teeth.
"You have to," he responded. "Go. While you still can."
There was nowhere for them to go. They were still about four hundred yards from town and about a mile from the mountains. They were sitting ducks, and the enemy knew it.
"Fuck!" McIntyre curled himself behind the Humvee, clutching his shoulder. Bullets continued to rain around them, pounding against the metal vehicle.
"Sarge," Warner said in a strangled voice. "Leave me. Go." A single tear trailed down Warner's cheek as his jaw worked. "Tell my girl I died doin' something that mattered."
Tyke's hands fisted as tightly as his lungs squeezed. These were his men. His friends.
His family.
And he'd failed them.
Scottie's eyes cleared, and a look of determination passed over his features. "This is the only way."
"Always gotta be the hero, don't you, Warner?"
The kid coughed out a laugh. "Get outta here before I change my mind." He brought his hand up, and Tyke clasped it, helping him to stand. Tyke propped him against the Humvee.
"You sure about this?"
Scottie nodded, hugging the rifle to his chest, a fresh trail of blood running out of his mouth along his throat.
Something hit Tyke. Something fast and sharp. In the top part of his right thigh. It jolted him back. Excruciating pain exploded through his entire midsection and down his legs. It spread, making him double over and gasp as if he were suffocating.
"Sarge!" Warner yelled.
"Tyke!" McIntyre shouted.
The last vision he had was red. Red hair spread out like a waterfall over a pillow in the dim light of the early morning. The morning he made his promise to Kenna to come back to her in one piece.