Echo Six: Black Ops 6 - Battle for Beirut (30 page)

"I'm out."

"This is my last clip. After that, I'll be throwing stones."

And the inevitable crack of pistols, as men threw down their empty assault rifles and used their handguns to fire at the enemy. It wasn't enough, and the great wave of Hezbollah poured down on them, like a tsunami, an avalanche of vengeful savages bent on death.

Talley used single shots, picking out targets one by one. But there were too few of them, almost out of ammunition, and facing an angry, well-armed horde. Suddenly, in the middle of the smoke, flame, and rattle of assault rifles, Nava woke up from her nightmare. She stared at Talley.

"Abe, don't let them take me. Shoot me before that happens. I can't any more. I'd sooner be in hell."

"I'll see to it," he replied. His brain burned with anger, and he desperately searched for a way out as the marauders came nearer. And nearer. They were twenty meters away, and he could pick out each individual expression. Their rotting teeth and lips pulled back in a snarl. They were going to kill, kill, kill!

These men don't possess an ounce of humanity. They bring only death. They are death.

One of Talley's men had a grenade in his hand, probably the last grenade in the unit. He stood ready to throw, with one finger on the pin, waiting to make certain it caused the maximum number of casualties. Even if the close proximity may result in his own death. Talley found another target, fired, and saw one man go down, but there were another ten behind him.

"Abe, don't forget," Nava pleaded, "And Rana, she begs you to shoot her as well."

"Sure."

He held his aim and fired again. It was hopeless, yet a last-ditch determination kept them all firing. They were all hit, all wounded, and some of them had to sit on the concrete when they could no longer stand. But the vests save them from serious injury, and they fought on.

To his astonishment, Talley found his right arm was working as normal. It was ironic that at this late stage something seemed to have fixed itself.

He'd been counting the rounds, and he had four left in the clip. One for each of the girls, and one in reserve. That meant he could take out one more of the attackers. He took careful aim, took up the pressure on the trigger... and stopped.

They went down in waves, line after line of Hezbollah fighters. It was if a combine harvester had passed through them and slashed them to the ground like heaps of fallen wheat. He could hear the hammering of heavy machine guns, and then a chain gun joined in. They all stopped firing and looked up to the sky; at the most beautiful sight a man could ever see in his life. The cavalry had arrived.

Two US Navy SH-60 Sea Hawks were hovering overhead, and sheets of bullets were pouring out as their door gunners repeatedly fired. Each helo mounted a pair of M240 7.62mm machine guns, one on each side. The gunners were leaning down, hosing down the Hezbollah fighters. They were already running frantically, seeking any escape from the deadly steel rain. It was the third bird that caused the most damage, and the most terror.

The Marine Corps AH-1W Super Cobra, which just happened to have been on a shakedown exercise with the Sea Hawks when Brooks persuaded the Navy to lend a hand. It was not equipped for carrying troops, or for any purpose other than destroying enemy troops with a hurricane of heavy lead. The M197 3-barreled Gatling cannon punched out 20mm cannon shells at a rate of ten a second.

The first burst lasted for ten seconds, and one hundred heavy slugs hammered into the enemy who were still massed on the wharf. What had been a ferocious rabble bent on annihilating Echo Six was reduced to a mass of bleeding broken flesh and bone. When the burst finished, the Super Cobra hovered overhead, just to make sure none of the hostiles got the wrong idea.

In the meantime, the Sea Hawks dropped lower, and Talley looked up to see a familiar face. Werner Best, in command of Alpha Six. He shouted something, but it was impossible to make out.

“They’re coming in for a hot extraction. They need some space,” Guy shouted.

“Copy that.”

The men dragged the injured aside to clear the entire width of the stone wharf for a landing. The first Sea Hawk landed with its rotors still turning. The crew chief jumped down and helped bundle the casualties aboard. The helo leapt back into the air, and the second craft dropped in. This time, it wasn’t so easy. The Lebanese had arrived. There was no way of knowing who they were, Army, militia, or Hezbollah. Until the flak gun appeared, another ZSU Shilka, the quad barrel flak gun, mounted on a tracked, armored hull.

Talley and Guy saw it at the same time. "Hezbollah," Guy exclaimed, "How many of those things do they have?"

"I guess plenty. But with a Super Cobra overhead, I guess it'll soon be one less."

The Super Cobra saw the mobile gun and swooped in for another attack run. The ZSU was considered so dangerous by NATO that in the event of a war, pilots were instructed to abort any mission if they caught sight of a Shilka, and destroy it. Evidently, the pilot of the gunship had read the order. The Super Cobra opened fire, and the pilot swerved to avoid the curtain of cannon fire that reached up to his aircraft. He banked hard and came around again to return for a second attack.

* * *

The two women watched the chaos around them, sheltering behind an old marine diesel engine abandoned on the wharf. Bullets whistled around their heads and pinged off the rusty iron. Rana shivered in fear.

"We'll never get out of this. We're going to die."

"No!" Nava had never felt so energized, so determined. The horrors of the past few days were ended.

He came for me, Abe Talley, and I know he'll get us out of this.

She pulled Rana to her, the roles reversed. Now she comforted the other girl, and together they watched the bloody battle on the wharf.

The firing slackened, and she peeked over the top of the engine. A huge, lumbering armored vehicle was moving onto the wharf, like a tank, and with a strange looking 4-barreled gun mounted on top. She gazed around, searching for Abe, but then looked back as she heard a shriek.

The huge, Saudi bodyguard, al Saif's bodyguard, had come up silently behind them and ducked down behind the rusty engine. He still wore the traditional Saudi robe, a thawb, with a headdress on his head. The robe was tied with a wide sash, which held his ceremonial dagger. She recalled his pleasure when he'd abused her and forced her to become an unwilling witness to his inflight torture movie. The man grinned, his thick lips parting to reveal huge, white teeth, like a row of tombstones. Then he grabbed Rana and punched her in the stomach. The girl dropped to the concrete, and he snarled, "You are a traitor, whore. You will die for betraying Sheikh al Saif!"

She was semi-conscious, retching in pain, and he turned his attention to Nava.

"You have cursed us, infidel," he shouted, "It is time for you to suffer the fate of all infidels. I will enjoy killing you slowly."

He held a huge pistol in his hand, pointed at her head. Her rage swelled to breaking point. It was as if all the pain, all the misery, the agony, everything was distilled into this one man. An icon of Arab brutality. In that moment he represented everything she hated about the cruel race. He had to die, no matter what it cost, even if she died too. She recalled her vow.

When I kill this man, I will be fulfilled.

She swayed forward, as if she was about to faint. In a reflex movement, he held out both hands to catch her. She’d been counting on it. The hand that held the gun was behind her, so he couldn't aim and fire. She was careful to position her own hands in such a way that her left one gripped the arm that held the gun. She brought her right arm in front of him, and her hand found the hilt of the knife. A big, curved, Arab Janbiya. She jerked her arm, and the knife came out of the scabbard, its blade a long, lethal length of razor sharp steel.

"What...?"

He knew something was wrong, but his hands were tangled, one holding her up the other wrestling with her left arm, trying to free his gun. It was the last recognizable sound he would make.

She plunged the knife into his groin, stabbing up through his genitals and into his bladder, further into his body. He reacted instantly, stunned by the agony and shock. He dropped the gun and tried to bring both hands around to get control of the knife. But the pain bit deep, and he squealed, a high pitched shriek of utter agony and despair. He started to topple over backward.

Nava pushed him, helping him to crash down on the concrete wharf. He lay on his back, still shrieking, trying to reach the blade to pull it out of his groin. But she followed him down, and protected the hilt with her body. He pummeled her on the back, trying to pull her off, anything to get to the source of the awful, terrible torture that wracked his body. His blood was already pooling on the ground, and his white robe had soaked some of it up, so that he resembled a ghoulish, Halloween creation. But he was still formidable, and she continued to struggle with him. He managed to get one hand to the knife, and she panicked and twisted the blade around, inside the wound.

The piercing shriek was even louder, and his hand dropped back as he thrashed around on the ground. More blood spurted out, and she realized she'd cut a vein.

Good.

She twisted again, but this time he brought up the other hand and managed to grip her hand that held the knife. For a moment, his lips formed a rictus of triumph. His expression abruptly changed, as two hands gripped and pulled his hand away. Rana had regained consciousness and joined the fight.

He was weakening, and his eyes began to reflect the dawning realization of his imminent death. His shrieks were a gurgling, mewing noise, as the terrible agony took over his entire consciousness. She twisted again, and he heaved and whimpered, as the waves of pain tore through him.

"This is for the girl in that movie, the one you watched on the plane," she snarled. Another twist. Another hard push. More mewing noises.

"And this is for what you did to me." She twisted yet again, and the shriek was more feeble now. His eyes were filled with terror, and to her astonishment, she felt pity. Despite her craving for revenge on these scum, she wasn't like them. Couldn't be like them. She glanced at Rana.

"Hold him. Hold his head."

The girl nodded and gripped the big head. In a single, flowing movement that she'd practiced in her head so many times over the past days thinking of revenge, she snatched the knife from the wound and moved its dripping blade to his throat, then slashed deep. He looked at her one last time and sighed his last breath.

Nava watched the body for a few seconds, and to her surprise, she felt saddened.

I’m content he won't be able to abuse anymore women, sure. But revenge? He deserved it, yes, but it doesn't make me feel good, only empty. But it is an end. This man has done unspeakable things to girls, but no more.

She slumped to the ground and cried bitter tears.

* * *

The Super Cobra retreated and fired short bursts at the Shilka to occupy the monster while the second Sea Hawk slammed onto the concrete. Talley raced over to where Nava and the other girl were sheltering behind an old marine engine. The blood soaked form of a huge Arab male lay on the concrete. He knelt down, checked the body, and found he was dead. Then he saw her face wet with tears.

"Are you hurt?"

Wearily, she shook her head. "No."

"You're sure you're okay?"

"I am now."

He nodded, and they helped the two women aboard the helo, and they followed in a scrambling mass of tangled limbs. Guy was last, almost too late as the pilot applied power and the Sea Hawk surged upward. Talley reached down with a hand. His right hand, the problem forgotten.

“Take this! Hurry, man.”

Guy stretched up, but the helo was rising too fast. He let go, and then took a running jump at Talley's outstretched hand. His body sailed through the air, over water. At the last moment, Buchmann grabbed his legs, enabling Talley to drop lower. The giant German gripped his ankles, and he clasped the Brit’s hand and hauled him upward into the cabin. He slumped on the floor, gasping for breath.

“Thanks,” he croaked, “Jesus, I thought I was going to swim for it.”

Before they could reply, the helo lurched to one side. The Shilka had switched aim, in an attempt to destroy the rescue helo. A hail of cannon shells burst through the cockpit and then stopped, as the Super Cobra swooped back in to attack. The Shilka moved to defend itself.

"Is anyone hurt?" he shouted.

A chorus of 'negatives' meant they'd been lucky. They watched through the open door as the gunship closed on the flak gun. The cannon shells streamed out, and this time it was different. The agile gunship was able to duck and dive, avoiding the quadruple streams of shells that rose up to destroy it. Not so the tracked gun, which was stationary. It was either a mistake or a malfunction. After all, it was Soviet era equipment. This time the gunner didn't miss.

The line of cannon shells spewed out of the chain gun and punched holes through the thick armor of the hull. First, the quad guns ceased fire and pointed uselessly up into the sky. The hatch opened, and a head appeared, a crewman trying to escape. But the gunship hadn't finished. The crew was hungry for blood, determined to wreak vengeance on the Shilka. A second long burst ripped through the air, and the awesome weapon poured out a hurricane of explosive rounds that chewed into the enemy vehicle. Smoke poured out of the open hatch, and the escaping crewman slumped back inside. Then it exploded.