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It seemed to carry on forever, making the hairs stand up on her arms and sending chills down her spine. A deadly hail of bullets, and Tom and Jamal were going to charge back across the road in it.
Thankfully, they’d picked up the door to the bus that had fallen to the side, and used it as a shield. Abu-al-Rashid’s men provided covering fire, and Tom and Jamal made it back safely.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” she hissed, overcome with relief.
His blue eyes twinkled. “I’ll try not to. You okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”
“I’ve been in worse situations than this and come out the other end,” he told her. She cringed. Was there any worse than this constant barrage of fire from an invisible enemy? Not knowing when they were going to hit, or what?
“What did he say?” she asked.
“He’s going to provide the distraction we need to get behind enemy lines.”
“What kind of distraction?” she asked.
He snorted. “You’ll know it when it happens.”
Jamal glanced at his watch. “Five minutes.”
Hannah’s pulse ratcheted up. That’s when it was happening, whatever this distraction was. The minutes crept by.
“This used to be a great neighborhood,”Jamal said sadly. “The fighting has destroyed it.”
Hannah noticed all the doors and windows overlooking the street were boarded up. Unlike what she’d seen in Syman City, no elderly men played backgammon on tables outside their front doors, and there was no colorful washing swinging between balconies above their heads. Instead, glass glinted among the cobblestones and angry, red anti-government slogans covered the walls.
“Nearly time,” Tom said, his voice heavy with foreboding.
Hannah took a deep breath. It was time to move.
All at once, the air around them seemed to erupt with gun fire. The rebels unleashed a torrent of firepower onto their unsuspecting adversaries to the north. Several men ran forward, diving behind mounds of sandbags and abandoned vehicles. They tossed grenades, and two men actually launched a rocket propelled grenade.
Tom grabbed her hand and they ran out of the shop and around the corner. They kept going until they were one street back from the fighting. The armed forces returned fire and the cacophony that ensured was deafening.
“I hope they’re okay,” Hannah whispered, as they flattened themselves against a wall.
“So do I,” Tom said. Even Jamal looked worried.
“They’ll keep them occupied for a while,” he said.
They moved forward another hundred meters, keeping to the walls of the buildings, hiding in the shadows. The sun was stronger now, and the rosy glow had been replaced with a stark white light that hinted of another scorching day. In midsummer, the temperatures could go up to the mid-forties.
The main danger then would be exposure and dehydration. That’s if they made it that far.
“We’re on a par with the enemy line,” pointed out Tom. Ahead of them was a gravel area that looked like it had once been a car park. Beyond that, a wide street swarmed with armysoldiers. Sandbag walls and military vehicles had been parked strategically to offer cover, while the men popped grenades into grenade launchers and fired them at the rebel-held district. Others knelt behind the barricade and unleashed a torrent of firepower into the streets beyond their line.
Tom nudged Jamal. “Look!”
“What the hell?”
The rebel stared horrified at the convoy of army vehicles, including tanks and armored trucks mounted with rocket launchers driving in. It was a breathtaking display of firepower. The rebels were tough, but Hannah doubted they’d be able to outgun these guys.
Jamal had gone white.
“We’re going to need reinforcements,” he whispered. “We’ll have to fall back and regroup. I must warn Abu-al-Rashid.”
“Where did they get all this equipment?” Tom gazed at the tanks and missile launchers. “And how did it get here so quickly?”