The Medusa Prophecy Page 8

  Larson landed beside her, tearing his rifle off his back.

  “What the hell kind of ammunition are your men using?” Karen bit out. “I just got hit and it hurts like hell!”

  “Lemme see.”

  She rolled onto her side, left leg up, as she pulled out her own rifle and yanked on a pair of night-vision goggles.

  “You’re bleeding,” he bit out. “Looks superficial, but you’ve been shot.”

  Just then, Vanessa’s voice crackled over the radio, “What ammo are your men using, Larson? Kat and Isabella are both bleeding.”

  He ripped the periscope out of Karen’s belt and poked the end around the corner of the cabin. Larson stabbed at his throat mike. “These are not my men. And those are real bullets they’re firing.”

  Karen glanced down at her own weapon, loaded only with harmless, rubber dum-dum rounds. Oh, shit.

  Chapter 5

  Vanessa started barking orders. “Around the back side of the building. Now. Get down in the snow.”

  Snow wasn’t worth spit at stopping bullets, but it would provide visual cover so the bad guys wouldn’t know where to aim their fire. Karen jumped to her feet and turned to sprint through the snow—and was confronted by a wall of the stuff. The avalanche. She climbed into the tumbled mess, diving for cover as more shots rang out.

  A quick glance over her shoulder for Larson. He wasn’t behind her, dammit! Where’d he go? She flattened herself behind a boulder-sized chunk of snow to look for him.

  “Pull back, Python. We’re about thirty feet behind you.”

  “No can do, Viper. I’ve lost Larson.”

  “Anyone got a visual on him?” Vanessa bit out.

  Silence was the only answer to her question.

  Vanessa asked, “Anders, where are you?”

  More silence. Which meant he was close enough to the hostiles that he dared not speak aloud.

  “I’m going back down,” Karen announced. “And yes, I’ll be careful and keep my head in the game,” she added before her boss could remind her.

  She poked her periscope around the end of the building and groaned under her breath. Four hostiles were fanning out in the snow, moving away from the cabin. The good news was they were headed generally away from the avalanche field and the Medusas’ location. The bad news was that they all were toting various weapons at the ready. Digging fast, she made a hollow long enough to swallow her torso and legs—just in case it came to a shootout. Then she peered around the end of the building again.

  She scanned the snow for Larson or some sign that he’d buried himself out there. Nada. C’mon, golden boy. Where are you?

  And then, without warning, she saw him. Rising up out of the snow right behind one of the tangos. He had a knife in his right hand and slashed it across the guy’s neck. The tango went limp in silence, and Larson eased him to the ground. But, God, the blood. The snow turned crimson all around the two men. No way the other hostiles would miss that. And sure enough, they didn’t. A shout, and all three men whirled to face Larson, who’d at least had the good sense to scoop up the downed man’s shotgun and head for cover. He was just sprinting around the far end of the house when the men opened fire. Karen ducked as bullets flew every which way.

  “Anders. You okay? Report.” she whispered frantically as the tangos commenced floundering back toward the cabin through the snow.

  “I’m behind the barrels.”

  “You heard Viper. Pull back to the avalanche field.”

  “This is a drug lab. I need to collect a sample for evidence.”

  With scant patience, she retorted, “We’re not armed. We have to get out of here. We can come back later with real bullets. Hell, call in an air strike by your air force.”

  “After I get a sample.”

  Exasperated, Karen plastered herself flat in her little hollow as one of the tangos came into sight about fifty feet away from her position. Most amateur shooters couldn’t lethally hit a human-sized target at that range. But she didn’t know if these guys were amateurs or not. And she didn’t want to bet her life on it. She had to assume the worst, that these guys were proficient with those guns.

  Dammit, the tangos were heading back toward the cabin. And Larson. Fast.

  “Incoming,” Vanessa murmured. “Three men. Range fifty meters. On foot, fast-walk pace. Floundering in the snow. Lots of vertical movement. Aim low.”

  Katrina’s voice chimed in. “These rubber bullets may not be lethal, but put one in an eye or hit the throat or bridge of the nose, and it’ll render the target combat-ineffective for a while.”

  Karen snorted. She was a good shot, but targeting the bridge of some guy’s nose was out of her league.

  Viper again. “What range can you reliably target eyes at, Cobra?”

  Kat answered, “On a moving target, about twenty-five meters.”

  Damn, she was good.

  “Start moving, Cobra,” Vanessa ordered. “Get twenty meters or so from Anders’ position. We’ll cover you. Adder, Sidewinder, take Cobra’s right flank, Range from her ten to fifteen meters. Fire for the eyes or throat. I’ll take her left flank.”

  Karen felt useless over here on the far side of the building. Maybe she should try to move around the back of the cabin and join Larson. But then she took a second look at the geometry as the tangos continued to stalk the pile of barrels where they’d last seen Larson. They wouldn’t expect her on their right flank like this. She’d get shots at a range of eight meters or so. But then, of course, they’d want to fire back—at nearly point-blank range. She’d have to shoot and run like hell. And hope the crossfire from her teammates confused the tangos enough so they didn’t know where the shots were coming from.

  “I have only two shots in this weapon,” Larson murmured.

  “Then make them count,” Vanessa muttered back.

  The remaining tangos approached the cabin. Karen watched in an agony of suspense as Viper whispered their range to Larson, who was blind on the far side of the barrels. Twenty meters. Fifteen. Ten.

  Then all hell broke loose. A single shot rang out, and one of the men screamed. He dropped his weapon and plastered both hands over his left eye. The other two men opened fire, blasting wildly toward the barrels where Larson hid. Single shots began to ring out among the continuous hostile fire. The Medusas had opened up. But Larson was still pinned down. He was the only one with real ammunition, and he couldn’t fire!

  Karen raised her rifle to her cheek and put her eye to the sight. She exhaled slowly and was just about to take out the tango nearest her when the front door burst open and two more men came charging out. In a millisecond she took in the silhouettes in their hands. Crap.

  “Two new tangos incoming!” she transmitted urgently. “Armed with AK-47s. Expect automatic fire!”

  And then the deafening burst of two fully automatic submachine guns fired into the fray. The users were being idiots, holding down the triggers and laying down a curtain of lead. At that rate, they’d be out of ammo in thirty seconds. Assuming any of the Medusas were still alive in thirty seconds. Her teammates were crazy close to bring their own weapons into effective range.

  She took aim at the eye socket of the nearest new entrant into the fight. She didn’t have a clean shot at it, but worst case, she’d plink the side of his nose and distract him. She lined up her sights and took the shot. The guy lurched and stopped firing. He turned slightly toward her and she took aim on his other eye. Squeezed through the trigger smoothly. He yelled at that one and doubled over.

  The second tango had his AK down by his hip, and was raking it side-to-side across where the barrels ought to be. Please God, let the containers be filled with fluid or something solid enough to stop all that lead from ripping right through them! And please let it not be flammable!

  She pushed to her feet to charge the remaining shooters and go hand-to-hand.

  “Hold your position, Python!” Vanessa ordered sharply. “Medusas, fire at will.”

  Karen
froze in the act of bolting around the corner. Instead, she knelt by the corner and fired left-handed around the wall. The tangos were moving around too much now for her to get a clean shot at an eye, but she just aimed for the head and called it good. Why Vanessa had ordered her to stay put, she had no idea. But she trusted the woman with her life. And in a firefight there was no time to be questioning orders. There’d be time enough after they survived this fiasco to sort out the whys and wherefores.

  And then Karen had her answer. The withering barrage of what the tangos no doubt thought were real bullets drove them back into the cabin. They came running around the corner and dived into the building, slamming the door shut behind them. And Karen had the best angle to fire inside the door if the tangos cracked it open. She aimed her rifle at the door just in case. And sure enough, a few seconds later, it opened a few inches and a gun barrel poked out. She fired a shot at the dark spot just over the barrel of the shotgun where the shooter’s face should be. A sharp cry and the door slammed shut again.

  “Cobra. Relieve Python. Meet us behind the cabin, Python.”

  In a few seconds, the small sniper tapped on Karen’s shoulder. Karen stood up while Cobra went low, crouching between Karen’s feet. When the sniper nodded that she’d acquired the target, Karen gingerly stepped over her comrade and backed out of firing position. She scrambled around the back of the cabin, diving beneath the nearest window and crouching in the snow beside her teammates.

  “Any idea where Anders went?” Vanessa breathed.

  Karen nodded. “Behind the barrels. He took out one tango and got the guy’s shotgun.”

  “He’s still not answering. The tangos must be looking out the window he’s sitting under. Python, go signal him to pull back. You two cover our retreat with Cobra. We’ll pull back in a standard fighting retreat formation. Anders can tag along with you in the rotation. We’ll head over the ridge, due south of the cabin and rendezvous there. Alternate rendezvous will be one kilometer due east of that.”

  Karen nodded and took off crawling. She ducked under the second window and paused to peer around the corner. Larson was, indeed, crouched beside the eastern facing window, looking down the barrel of his stolen shotgun between a gap in the metal drums. Carefully, she tapped his foot. It was never a good thing to surprise a Special Forces operator in full combat mode. He nodded fractionally to acknowledge her presence.

  She eased up beside him, plastering herself close to him to avoid being seen if anyone happened to glance out the window. She breathed into his ear, “Fighting retreat, stay with me. Pull back due south over the ridge. Alternate meeting point one click east of that.”

  “When?”

  “Now.”

  “I need a sample of what’s in these barrels.”

  “We’re mostly unarmed against hostiles with deadly intent. Viper has given the order to retreat now.”

  “Get me a sample while I move up to the corner of the cabin. I’ll keep an eye out to make sure we don’t get company.”

  Karen glared at him. They so didn’t have time to sit here and argue over how to proceed. He knew better than to contradict the team leader’s orders!

  He glanced over at her. Murmured, “I’m not trying to make trouble. But it’s vital that I get a sample. Help me out on this, and I’ll retreat wherever and whenever you want.” When she continued to glare at him doubtfully, he added, “I promise.”

  Reluctantly she nodded. Arguing never did any good in combat. She pushed up to a crouch by the wall of the cabin while he eased around in front of the pile of barrels, out of sight. She pulled out her field knife, a wicked-sharp blade eight inches long, and stabbed the nearest barrel. The blade cut through the steel not quite like butter, but close. She yanked it out and stabbed again, perpendicular to the first cut and forming an X. She twisted the blade this time, opening up a small hole in the side of the barrel.

  One corner of the barrel dropped a few inches, causing the whole pile to lurch slightly. Using her blade as a spatula, she pulled out a sample of what turned out to be white powder. She reached into the pocket of her parka where she’d stowed emergency medical supplies and pulled out a gauze pad. Using her teeth, she ripped the paper package open. She rubbed the pad across the blade. The sterile fabric shouldn’t contaminate whatever that powder was.

  A tremendous blast sounded nearby. Crap. Larson had just fired. The tangos must be thinking about coming out to play again. A second blast exploded, and the pile beside her gave a big lurch. Recoil from the shotgun must’ve hit it. An ominous, metallic, grinding sound echoed above her. She looked up.

  And was just in time to see the pile wobble. Tilt. And begin a slow-motion collapse directly toward her.

  A white shape hurtled toward her, slamming into her and knocking her clear as the entire pile of barrels, at least twenty of them, came tumbling down.

  The impact of Larson flying into her knocked her a good ten feet backward, landing her on her back in the snow. A barrel rolled on top of her leg, harmlessly pushing it deep into the snow. She tried to roll the barrel clear and was startled by its massive weight. She could barely move it. The thing must weigh close to two hundred pounds. Instead, she wiggled her foot and leg deeper into the snow and pulled the limb free with no trouble. The cloud of powdery snow raised by the crash began to settle, and she looked frantically for Larson. There was no sign of him. He must be buried. Under the barrels. Make that under tons of steel and unidentified white powder! Not good.

  “Man down,” she transmitted in an urgent whisper. “All free hands to the pile of barrels. It collapsed and Anders is buried.”

  Viper transmitted immediately, “Cobra, hold your position, and keep the tangos busy at the front door if you can. Everyone else, to Python.”

  Karen looked at where she’d landed and estimated what direction Larson must have come from to tackle her like that. She started digging frantically in the snow around a partially buried barrel. She encountered something hard. She dug even faster. A boot.

  Crap. He was buried under the entire pile of barrels. He’d suffocate if they didn’t get all that weight off his chest fast. Adrenaline roared through her. With great difficulty, she exhaled slowly and studied the pile. They’d have to work not only fast but also smart to get him out of there. They had a minute, maybe two, to free him. The pattern in which the steel drums lay began to unfold before her. If they started with that top barrel, then rolled aside those two, they could lift that fourth barrel, and then have access to a couple of more barrels that, good Lord willing, were the ones lying on top of Larson.

  Vanessa sprinted around the corner. Karen pointed and her boss nodded. They each grabbed an end of the barrel and gave a heave. It moved aside. They dropped it by the cabin window. Aleesha and Isabella stacked it in front of the window, partially blocking where the others were working from view. Good idea. Karen and Vanessa rolled aside the second barrel.

  Misty joined Vanessa at the far end of the next barrel, which had to be lifted up in the air and then moved aside. Karen exhaled hard and lifted with her thighs, her back straight. What she wouldn’t give for a wide, leather, weight-lifting belt to support her back right about now! Although with the adrenaline screaming through her, she could probably lift a car and not feel it. The seconds ticked away in the back of her mind.

  None of the barrels sloshed as though they contained liquid. More of that white powder in all of them perhaps? The weights seemed generally uniform—which was to say they were all freaking heavy.

  They lifted off two more barrels. With weights like this, Larson might not be breathing. He could very well be crushed under this pile. Fear for him goaded her.

  And then Karen spied a gloved hand in the snow. She started to lean down to check on him, and the entire pile of barrels shifted. Damn! She dived in and planted her back against the one that threatened to roll down and collapse the whole stack on top of him again. The weight at her back shifted, and she planted her feet in the snow on either side of his
hand. She literally had to grunt to breathe through the effort of holding who knew how many hundreds of pounds of barrels from crashing down on top of Larson.

  “Hurry,” she grunted.

  The other Medusas pushed and pulled at the barrels like maniacs. She had to give them credit. They were giving it their level-best effort. Her legs trembled, near the point of collapse. Dig deep. Breathe. Stand firm. His life depended on it. Beads of sweat popped out on Karen’s forehead and her thighs began to give out. Too much adrenaline screamed through her for much pain to register, but her body was nearly at its limit.

  “Just a couple more barrels,” Vanessa panted.

  Karen nodded her understanding. She blew out short fast breaths. Must keep oxygen flowing to her muscles. It felt as if an entire mountain was sitting on her back. Larson’s legs appeared. Two more barrels to go, one on his torso and one lying across his head and shoulders. One barrel lifted away. One more to go. She could do this.

  As the last barrel came away from him, she saw that his face was intact. His chest seemed normal under his parka, too, not crushed. But he was unconscious and not moving.

  “I can’t hold this much longer.” Her knees were screaming in protest, the joints themselves threatening to give way.

  Aleesha crouched by his head, cradling his neck and head in a nifty arm hold and then, with the help of the others, dragged him clear of the pile.

  Vanessa and Misty grabbed Karen’s parka and put tension on it. “On the count of three,” Vanessa bit out.

  Karen nodded.

  “One…two…three!”

  Karen leaped to the side while Vanessa and Misty yanked her for all they were worth. She rocketed into the clear as the entire pile of barrels came crashing down on the spot where she’d just stood. One of the top barrels bounced off the moving pile, and went airborne. It hit her squarely in the middle of the back, knocking her flat on her face in the snow. The already weakened sheet metal, riddled with bullets, gave way, and the entire contents of the barrel emptied all over her back.