Fear and Anger (The 47 Echo Series) (21 page)

There was no choice to make, no option but to keep moving. He rolled down the window a crack, lit a cigarette, and looked around the dashboard to try and figure out where the cruise control was hiding.

“You know, this drive would be a hell of a lot better if Feng had bothered to hook up a damn iPod,” Nick grumbled.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The Enemy Guns

“Shit. Daylight in a few minutes,” Daniel whispered as he flattened himself behind the tiniest snow drift Christopher had ever seen. Of course, it was the only cover either of them had found in the field, and it was marginally better than nothing.

“That’s bad?”

“It’s not good. They’ll see almost anything with some light,” Daniel said. “And when we start shooting, every North Korean gun at that outpost will be looking for a place to shoot back.”

“We’ve got the rifle covers and snow suits,” Christopher said.

“That’s about half of it,” Daniel said, nodding. “Suppressors on the guns will confuse them a bit, make them wonder where the shots are coming from. But like I said, they’ll be looking for anything.”

Daniel pointed to the steam his own words had just made in the air above him.

“So... don’t breathe?” Christopher asked.

“Let me show you and old hunter’s trick,” Daniel said, grinning. “Breathe in through your nose, and when you breathe out through your mouth...”

The young sniper grabbed a handful of snow and packed it into his mouth. He took a few deep, theatrical breaths to illustrate his point – no steam came out at all.

“OK, that’s just cool,” Christopher said.

Daniel said nothing – his mouth was still packed with snow – but he nodded and winked at his commanding officer. He laid his rifle out in front of him and quickly took the scope off, stashing it in the inside pocket of his parka.

“Right. No lens flare if there’s no scope. But I’ve got zero chance of hitting anything from this far back without mine,” Christopher said, keeping his voice at the same whisper-tone Daniel had used.

“You’re just on backup in case I miss,” Daniel said, spitting out the last of the melting snow. “We’re lucky. Almost no wind to speak of. Take your scope off, lay down a few rounds in their general direction, and I should have enough time to re-aim.”

“Have you ever missed?” Christopher asked.

“Everyone’s missed a shot now and then,” Daniel told him.

“OK, recently?”

“Just when I got shot in the shoulder a couple weeks back.”

Christopher nodded and started taking the scope off of his M4, or at least trying to. He’d never had to remove it before, and quickly realized he had no idea how. Daniel grinned and took the rifle from him, undid the two thumbscrews, and slid the scope off the top of the rifle. He handed both the rifle and the scope to Christopher, who stowed the scope in his parka and readied the M4.

“Just so you know, I wasn’t paying attention. You’re going to have to reattach that later,” Christopher said.

“Gunny, we’re in position,” Carson’s voice buzzed in Christopher’s ear.

“Roger that. Your play, Carson. We’re going to radio silence,” Christopher replied.

“Solid copy.”

Daniel moved his left parka sleeve aside and checked his watch. He tapped Christopher on the shoulder, then held up one finger to his lips.
Silent time
. He and Christopher both picked up handfuls of snow and shoveled them into their mouths.

To Christopher, it felt like they were waiting for at least a half an hour, though that couldn’t be accurate – the snow in his mouth only melted once, and he replaced it just before they heard a large vehicle rolling down the highway. He thought that was odd – usually, one didn’t hear the Razors on tarmac – but then he remembered the bomb Martin set off under it. Perhaps that had done some damage to the rear wheels, causing them to make noise. In his peripheral vision, Christopher saw Daniel hunker down even more over his rifle sights and hover his finger over the trigger.

Looking downrange without his scope or his TotalVis goggles, Christopher found it hard to make out much of anything from this distance. He worried that maybe he was too far back to see what was going on, but then he saw a door open several feet off the ground – seemingly out of thin air – and saw a figure starting to get out. He didn’t see or feel any movement from the young sniper directly on his left shoulder, but he heard the shot, and saw the figure crumple to the pavement.

At almost the same instant the body hit the ground, Christopher saw Carson, Anthony, Mary, Martin, and Gabriel jump out of – well, nowhere, seemingly – and rush toward the open door. Daniel let another round fly, then tapped Christopher’s left leg with his boot. Christopher opened fire, sending several rounds downrange until he felt Daniel kick him again. From Daniel’s first shot, only a few seconds had passed, but now the response was coming from the North Korean camp.

Gunfire started tearing up the ground in the field, but it was still a good hundred yards in front of Daniel and Christopher. Christopher heard the unmistakable sounds of a Razor’s .50 caliber guns firing. More snow and dirt flew up in front of them, and Daniel fired again. No tap came this time, so Christopher held his fire.

Another .50 caliber started up, then another. His own people, firing on the North Korean camp.
Probably keeping them away from that armor
, Christopher realized. If the crews weren’t already in the tank and the APC, some suppressive fire from Michael and Peter would keep them away from the vehicles.
Smart move.

Christopher shifted his gaze to his team, still running across the cold road, firing behind them as North Korean soldiers scrambled from their buildings. Daniel fired again, and Christopher finally understood what the young man was shooting at – he was trying to keep those in the ELR from closing the door before the team could get there. He was almost successful, but someone inside the ELR finally got a hold on the door and slammed it shut, but not before Martin managed to throw something in through the closing door.

The ELR was completely invisible again now that the door was closed, but from the way his people dove to the side of the road, Christopher figured it was moving.
Dammit. Missed them again
, he thought. He saw his people get up and run back toward their own Razor, and Daniel took up a firing position again. He let a few rounds fly, and Christopher saw advancing North Korean soldiers drop. He felt the tap on his leg again as Daniel reloaded, so Christopher fired more rounds downrange, doing his best to keep clear of his team. They vanished back into the Razor, and Daniel tapped Christopher’s leg again – the young man was reloaded and ready to fire.

Christopher saw the Storm Tiger tank suddenly explode into flames – Bryce must have gotten the Razor’s missile pods locked on to the larger vehicle. The APC was in bad shape, too, riddled with .50 caliber bullets, all eight tires shredded. The APC’s main gun had been battered all to hell, and there was no way it was a threat anymore.

Daniel casually rolled over on his back and started putting the scope back on his rifle. He turned his head to the side and spit out a mouthful of water, what was left of the snow that had been masking his breath, and laid his rifle on his chest. He grabbed Christopher’s M4 and held his hand out for the scope, which he had reattached in two seconds after Christopher handed it over.

“OK. They should be coming for us soon,” Daniel said. “Until then... well, if anyone comes at us, we’re going to know about it. They have a big, empty field to cross, and we’re not going to have any trouble picking them off.”

“What about the lens reflections? The vapor?” Christopher asked.

“If they had a sniper at the base, he would have shot us already,” Daniel said, shaking his head. “None of their other shots even got close. We’re probably clear.”

“Probably?”

“No use worrying about it now if we’re not,” Daniel said, handing back the M4 and rolling back onto his stomach.

“That’s comforting,” Christopher muttered, looking through his scope at the North Korean camp.

“We put a good 25, 30 rounds downrange. Any decent sniper would have zeroed in on us after that many. If they have one, and he’s still alive, then he sucks,” Daniel said, sighting and firing. Through his scope, Christopher saw a North Korean soldier who had been setting up a machine gun drop to the snow. Another soldier rushed up to take his place, but Daniel dropped him, too.

Christopher saw a door on one of the temporary buildings open, saw a soldier with an RPG rush out. He had him in his sights, and he let a couple of rounds go. He saw the snow kick up next to the man, then saw him go down. He fired a couple more rounds, but the soldier wasn’t moving.

“Nice shooting, Chief,” Daniel commented.

“You shot him for me, didn’t you?”

“Nah. Really, all you,” Daniel said, but Christopher could see a grin on one side of the man’s face.

“Gunny, we’re swinging back to pick you up. Request you be on the road in 3-0 seconds,” Carson radioed.

“Roger that,” Christopher said.

Daniel was up and moving before Christopher even gave the order. As one, the two of them sprinted for the road, both firing rounds at the North Korean camp as they ran. A few bullets flew in their general direction, but the fire was inaccurate. As soon as Christopher’s boots hit the pavement, the Razor’s back hatch opened up, and he and Daniel scrambled inside. The hatch slammed shut behind them, and Christopher tossed his M4 to Gabriel and started stripping off the parka and shell pants as he made his way to the front of the vehicle.

“We fucking missed them again,” he growled as he threw the parka on the floor behind him.

“That’s affirmative, Gunny,” Carson said, shaking his head.

“I don’t think they’re gonna get too far,” Martin told him, standing up from his chair and crossing over to Mary’s station. “You guys managed to take out one of them, and I got a frag in through the door before they took off.”

“Obviously someone was still alive enough to drive the thing away,” Christopher said.

“Correct. But a frag grenade going off inside a Razor is sure to fuck up their day,” Carson said. “If it didn’t kill anyone else, it at least damaged some of their equipment. If we’re lucky...”

“Oh, we’re lucky,” Mary said, looking up from her computer and punching Martin in the shoulder.

“Ow,” Martin muttered.

“Mary? What do you have?” Christopher asked.

“Looks like Martin’s grenade rolled to the back of the truck. Their stealth – not the adaptive camouflage, but the electronic counterinterference – is leaking.”

“Leaking?” Gabriel asked. “What does that mean?”

“It means they’re sending out some signals intermittently,” Martin explained. “And if the frag really did fuck up their stealth station...”

“Then they have no idea we can track them,” Carson said, smiling.
 

Chapter Twenty-Six

Depression

When Nick started having conversations with people who weren’t there, he reluctantly had to admit it was time to ease off on the Dextroamphetamine.

He’d been motoring along for the last hour or so, not really noticing anything amiss, when he’d heard his brother Stan ask him a question. Not a deep, philosophical question about the meaning of life, nothing personal about their shared childhood bouncing back and forth between the homes of divorced parents. Nope. Stan had simply asked him where he’d left the keys to his 1996 Jaguar XJS.

“Ask Cedric. I gave the car to him when he turns 16, remember?” Nick said, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Right. Thanks, bro. Will do,” Stan said from what Nick guessed was the passenger seat. When he turned his head slightly to the right, though, he saw the chair was empty.

And that was when the logical part of his brain kicked in and realized, clearly and without surprise, that he’d just had an auditory hallucination. It presented this realization to Nick calmly, as if it was reminding him to make sure the lights were off in his apartment before he left.

Hey, Nick. You’re cracking up
, it would have said if he could have heard it. But he didn’t, not like he’d clearly heard his brother, currently somewhere in New Jersey, asking him a stupid question about a stupid set of keys.

“OK. Here’s where I’m at,” Nick said to the logical part of his brain that he couldn’t hear. “Yeah, I just had a hallucination. And that’s not good. But I’m driving just fine. I’m alert, awake, doing my job. Stopping right now would not be a good idea.”

Come on, man
, the logical part of his brain chided.
A hallucination is something of a red flag, don’t you think? It’s not like your situation is going to get better from here
.

“So I should just pull over and find a place to sack out? With the entirety of the People’s Liberation Army on my tail?”

Well, you’re now having a conversation – out loud – with your own brain, to which you seem to have assigned a distinct, separate personality. What do you think?

“All right, you have a point there,” Nick almost said, but didn’t. He thought it instead, which seemed slightly less crazy than continuing to talk to himself out loud.

The sun was rising out his passenger window as he rolled along the long, desolate highway. He’d seen more cars on the road in the past several hours, so it looked like traffic was going to start ramping up soon. If he could find a place to stash his car away from public view, maybe he could catch a few hours of sleep before continuing on. He knew that the last double-dose of Dexedrine he took would be losing its effect soon, and if he didn’t take another one, he’d be dead tired within the hour.

The hallucination, he knew, was just emblematic of a larger problem. If he took another pill on top of the – three? four? five? – days of constant dosing, he was risking a heart attack. If he didn’t take one, he’d fall asleep at the wheel and die in a fiery wreck when that extra fuel at the back of the car decided to blow. Really, it was just choosing which way he wanted to die if he kept driving. And the fact that he couldn’t remember how many days he’d been up cemented the decision for him.