Reclamation (Best Laid Plans Book 4) (37 page)

General Lassiter might not be able to send help in time, and before they knew it the enemy would have a foothold behind the lines and would be that much closer to attacking the remaining US forces from behind.

There was also the fact that Matt and his friends would probably be dead by that point, and his family and friends from Aspen Hill would be pinned down with enemies on both sides. They had to hold here, whatever it took.

Pete had already begun firing, and Matt hurriedly sighted in on the soldiers nearest the road. They were searching for better cover farther off the road, but that still left far too many easy targets as he began squeezing off shots.

It was a long distance, shooting at moving targets hundreds of yards away, and the man he'd been specifically aiming for managed to reach his new spot of cover without taking a hit as far as Matt could tell. Which hardly mattered because two of the men around him went down to Matt's shots.

Explosions downslope meant that the enemy soldiers had managed to find the few mines Davis had scattered across the hillside, and he heard screams and flashes from below. Matt ignored them and kept shooting, determined that he wouldn't be distracted again, and for his effort was rewarded by seeing another target drop to one of his shots.

There were plenty more enemies to shoot at after that, and he and his squad were relatively well concealed behind a good embankment in case they took return fire. At some point they might come under determined attack and have to fall back to another position, but for now he just focused on squeezing off as many shots as possible and doing his best to make sure he hit something.

A minute passed that seemed like half an hour, and in that time the road below and any cover within twenty feet completely emptied out aside from dozens of bodies. The trucks that had been disabled by the rockslide or M2, around fifteen in all, lay scattered like abandoned and stomped on toys, while the rest of the convoy had cleared out to a safe distance. It was now creating a fortified position just outside the mouth of the canyon.

And the fight had only begun. The rocks, trees, and undergrowth below swarmed with enemy soldiers, and flashes of gunfire seemed to come from everywhere. So far his people seemed safe at their position, but Matt was keeping a close eye on the slope below them. If the enemy got too close they'd have to run.

Their own return fire was far less effective than it had been during those initial moments. Enemy soldiers were still dropping in large numbers, but he also heard shouts for medical aid from their side over the radio. Then there were the distant booms from the blockhead tanks just now pulling out of Huntington, although if the shells they fired were hitting anywhere close to the ambush site Matt couldn't tell.

In spite of the fierce blockhead resistance the casualties had to favor Davis's ambushers at least 40 to 1. Why had the enemy decided to deploy their soldiers in such a vulnerable position and cut and run with their trucks? It made no sense, not when there was no hope of clearing the destroyed road even with a week of work, especially not while under fire.

So why were they sticking around?

His firing pin clicked on an empty chamber, signaling the need for his third reload since the fight began. Matt released the empty magazine onto the ground beneath his knees and fumbled for a full one from his flak jacket pocket, distantly aware that he only had two more after that before he'd need to go for his pack.

As he slammed the loaded magazine home Matt suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin tingling, a subconscious warning of something he hadn't yet realized. He paused, looking around and straining his ears to hear past the roar of gunfire from the rest of his squad. It was easier with the noise canceling earbuds, but at the same time the sounds he heard through them were deceptively muted or amplified in odd ways.

It took a while, and in the end he didn't hear the noise that had caught his attention
over
the sound of gunfire. In a strange way the low, rhythmic thumping cut beneath all other noise, growing steadily louder, and in the heat of the moment it took him a few seconds longer than it should've to recognize it.

A helicopter. He darted his eyes to the east and caught the glint of sunlight reflecting off something high in the sky, the glare distorting the dark, insectile shape of the aircraft.

That was why the blockheads had stuck around . . . they were holding out for air support. Matt bit back a curse and fumbled at his belt for the transmit toggle. But before he could shout his warning Davis's voice thundered in his ears. “All units, scatter!”

His squad mates, obviously confused by the abrupt order, hesitated. Matt raised his own voice to repeat the order even as he broke from their position to one of the nearby foxholes they'd dug. Those were more fallback positions, set up in case the enemy turned any serious firepower on them and they needed to relocate, but things weren't bad enough to force them to retreat entirely along the forest path they'd cleared to the secondary emplacement.

The next few seconds were a blur as he crossed the slope in a scrambling crouch, expecting to be hit from behind by the enemies below even though rationally he knew the angle was bad for them. He reached the foxhole he'd dug himself and dove inside, landing awkwardly with his rifle skittering away as he came down on top of it.

It took a while to get himself right side up so he could duck down and retrieve the weapon in the cramped space. Once he managed it he poked his head up out of his new source of cover, checking to make sure everyone else had gotten away clean and no one needed covering fire or other assistance.

His people had scattered in all directions, keeping well apart to reduce losses in case of whatever threat prompted them to scatter, and a few were still scrambling to their own foxholes. Matt saw Gutierrez poke his head out of the one nearest their original position, and to his relief he saw that the former soldier had kept hold of the squad's TOW missile launcher.

Matt thumbed the toggle. “If you've got a shot take it, Raul,” he whispered.

Before Gutierrez could answer a small streak of brilliant flame speared out of the sky to the east and slammed into the other side of the canyon, almost on top of 2
^nd
Squad's position. The air and ground both shook around him as the hillside across from them became an almost blinding fireball, and Matt winced and ducked away from the explosion.

The helicopter had missiles of its own, and had rightly identified the location of the heavy machine gun as the greatest known threat. Matt could only hope Williams had gotten his people into their scatter positions in time. Although even scattered, it seemed impossible that a blast that big hadn't claimed a few lives. He felt a surge of relief that his squad's position hadn't been hit, then guilty for feeling that way.

From farther up the canyon came the bright streak of a TOW missile heading the other way in response, fired by 1
^st
Squad's launcher, but Matt's hopes were dashed when he saw it fly off into the afternoon sky and explode brilliantly nowhere near the approaching chopper. The return enemy missile, which shrieked up the canyon towards the spot where Davis's attack had came from, confirmed that the helicopter hadn't even been fazed by the miss.

Matt ducked slightly at the explosion farther up the canyon, gritting his teeth. “Raul?”

“Give me a second,” Gutierrez snapped. “I mostly know how this thing works, but I wish you would've let me fire at least one missile so I knew what to expect. Learning on the fly against a fast-moving object in midair is going to suck.”

Matt found himself also wishing he'd let his friend practice at least once. At the time aiming the wire-guided missiles had seemed simple enough, and they'd expected that Gutierrez would be using them against large convoy targets like trucks and pick it up pretty fast. At the time, from a shortsighted perspective, it had saved them the waste of using one of their few precious missiles just for training.

Now he could see that the opposite was true. If Gutierrez had to shoot a chopper out of the sky it seemed impossible he'd manage it in one try, and even missing once made not letting him practice beforehand a bad call.

Worse yet, if he fired and missed he'd almost certainly make himself a target, and he might not get a second shot. Matt's decision to be stingy might cost more than the missiles themselves, it might cost his friend's life. All their lives possibly, since they were close enough to be hit by the explosion too.

“Take your time,” he said. “Make it count.”

The former soldier abruptly ducked and cursed in Spanish. “It'd be easier if you'd do something about the people shooting at us from below.”

Right. Matt hastily lifted his rifle. “All right, people. Resume fire.”

Some of his squad mates hadn't needed his order, like Pete, but Matt didn't wait to make sure everyone else had heard before sighting in on a flash of gunfire from the trees below and squeezing off a 3-round burst. In the lingering dust haze from the rockslide he wasn't sure if he'd hit or simply spooked the enemy soldier off, but the muzzle flashes stopped so he began searching for another target.

A moment later his world went white.

It was more the force of the explosion than any reaction on his part that caused him to collapse down into his foxhole in a ball. He felt a wall of noise and heat roaring over his head, singeing the hairs on the back of his neck, and the sheer force of it rocked him hard against the dirt wall to his left. For a moment his ears rang, but the earbuds shielded them from the brunt of the noise, same as with the gunfire.

This experience wasn't nearly as bad as during his disastrous attack on the raider camp about two and a half months ago, when a missile had struck nearby, but his second brush with a nearby explosion still wasn't anything he'd want to get used to.

Once the noise and heat faded Matt forced himself to stand, peeking out of his foxhole at the devastation. To his relief he saw that the missile had hit the hillside below their original position, just about the only place where no one in his squad had dug a fallback foxhole since it would've put them in the enemy's line of fire.

“Aspen H-” he coughed as the wind blew smoke and dust into his face, then covered his eyes and mouth with his elbow as he tried again. “Aspen Hill squad, report any injuries.”

His ears were full of chatter, shouts and curses and conflicting information and orders, as well as a few screams of pain and pleas for help. Over which Davis's ignored shouts for everyone to clear the airwaves only added to the confusion. But before he could make out any replies from his squad in that mess he became aware of the insectile black shape hovering over the mouth of the canyon, several hundred yards away.

The helicopter. It had some sort of heavy machine gun spooled up and emptying rounds into a spot higher up the canyon, closer to where Davis and 1
^st
Squad were set up. Matt wasn't sure if it was out of missiles or just reloading, or maybe even still had some ready to go and had switched to the gun for some other purpose. Whatever the pilot's reasoning, he was holding the bird steady so he wouldn't throw off the gunner's aim.

Matt thumbed his radio. “Now or never, Raul.” As he spoke he sincerely hoped his friend was still alive, and not just so he could take this opportunity to bring the bird down for good.

To his relief Gutierrez almost immediately popped out of his hole, missile launcher propped on his shoulder. His face was grimy with dirt, with a dark stain on one temple that might've been blood, but his arms were steady as he aimed the unwieldy weapon at the hovering helicopter.

A moment later the missile streaked away on a tail of fire, with Gutierrez carefully guiding it towards the chopper. It moved so quickly Matt almost didn't see what happened next, but he thought the bird banked to one side at the last second. That, plus the fact that his friend's aim was slightly off, caused the missile to miss by a dozen feet and quickly overshoot its target.

The explosion rocked the helicopter in the air, and its gunner abruptly ceased firing. Over in his hole Gutierrez swore loudly and ducked out of sight, hopefully to load another missile. Because of that he didn't see that his efforts were unnecessary.

The helicopter veered away, banking into a sharp turn that sent it thumping to the northeast away from them. At the sight of it a few cheers erupted, both from his squad mates and over the radio.

Matt didn't cheer. He was relieved to see the biggest threat flying off, but the canyon was still full of enemies, some of whom might've been sneaking up to his squad's position right at that moment. He thumbed his radio toggle. “Fight's not over yet, guys. If you're not already firing time to start again.”

He suited his words by raising his rifle and sighting down the scope towards the valley below, listening as the gunfire from his squad started up again around him. Oddly enough he didn't see any muzzle flashes from the enemy, but he did catch a few glimpses of movement in the scrub oak below. He aimed at one and focused on keeping his gun steady as he squeezed the trigger.

Just before he got the shot off his earbuds abruptly vibrated with Davis's thundering voice. “Everyone cease fire! Cease fire!”

Matt cursed and yanked the end of his rifle up as his finger finished squeezing the trigger, sending the shot flying harmlessly into the slope where the rockslide had swept through across the way.

“What?” he demanded.

“You heard me, Larson!” Davis snapped, and with a start Matt realized he hadn't toggled his radio off after his last transmission. “Cease fire! Haven't you noticed the enemy's already stopped?”

Even as the sergeant spoke Matt lowered his M16 and repeated the order in a shout to his squad, although they all had their own radios and should've heard it. The racket of gunfire around him fell down to near silence, allowing him to hear the last few stray shots from other squads on the hillsides.