Page 69 of Cry Havoc (Tom Reece #1)

Tom blinked and brought this left hand to his eye to try and clear out any debris.

Was that a lucky shot?

Why don’t they have anything bigger than AKs down there?

You have got to move.

Tom squinted his left eye and focused on using his right.

Where was Quinn?

There!

Quinn was now pinned to a tree near the center of the depot. Tom could just make out a part of his left shoulder. He and the tall white man were behind it. Tom didn’t have good visibility, but he could see movement.

Was the white man using the tree as cover? Why had he grabbed Quinn?

Hiep and the other Americans were forced back into one of the huts, while other NVA soldiers took cover in the compound and continued to spray the hillside.

What was the man doing? Was he a Soviet advisor? He had to be.

What was he doing with Quinn’s tomahawk? Now he’s moving at Quinn’s waistline.

No!

Tom found the Soviet’s shoulder and pressed the trigger. He saw his shot impact the tree. The Soviet moved his body, so Tom no longer had a target.

Bullets impacted all around the Frogman.

All you did was show them where you are. These rocks provide cover, but they will send a hunter-killer team next. They are probably working their way up to flank you right now.

Tom sent another bullet that whizzed by Quinn’s tree.

What was the Soviet doing?

His left arm was moving. Tom caught sight of his elbow.

It looked like he was throwing something into the mud. Something gray.

An NVA solder stepped from behind a truck, and Tom put him down with a round to his chest.

He then moved his attention back to Quinn.

Was the Soviet tying Quinn to the tree?

No. He was doing something much worse. He was disemboweling Quinn while he was alive.

No!

Tom took up slack in the trigger.

Come on, Quinn, stick your head out.

How can I shoot my best friend?

Take him out of his misery.

Dear God.

Tom blinked in rapid succession to clear his vision.

Think, dammit! Think!

You don’t have a shot.

Tom was so preoccupied thinking of Quinn that it took him a moment to realize the shooting had stopped.

He was almost too late.

They must have men closing in on your position.

Tom looked to his left and right.

Nothing.

Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a foot dislodging a rock.

They were behind him.

Tom spun and pivoted out of his position just as a grenade landed where he had been sitting a second earlier.

The rocky face of the hillside offered cover, and Tom ducked behind a boulder just as the grenade detonated, showering him with debris.

He rose from behind the rock and fired three rounds into a man not 20 yards away, a man who had another grenade ready to throw.

The grenade dropped at his feet.

His comrade shouted and attempted to move, which put him squarely in Tom’s sights. Four more rounds of 7.62 x 39 sent him to the afterlife as the dropped grenade detonated.

Where did those guys come from?

Tom realized why there were not larger-caliber weapons in the camp. They were hidden on the hillsides. Probably antiaircraft weapons. Those two men had been manning one when the shooting started.

Tom ducked back down behind the rock as the hillside erupted again from the impact of bullets from below. He crawled to a nearby boulder, took a knee, and angled out from behind it, ready to fire. Bullets danced around him.

He found Quinn’s tree from his new position.

Stay on target.

You have to find a shot.

Would you want Quinn to do it for you?

Yes.

If you die here, the fate of these men dies with you.

You owe it to them to get out of here. Get back to friendly lines. Bring in the assault force.

But Quinn…

He focused back on the tree, Quinn and the Soviet still behind it.

Your friend is being disemboweled. You need to find and take the shot.

A liquid was sprayed on the pile of guts, almost as if the Soviet was pissing on them. But it wasn’t piss. Tom had heard of this torture before. It was gas or lighter fluid. The Soviet was going to light Quinn’s intestines on fire while they were still connected to his body.

Tom could not tell if Quinn was screaming over the gunfire. He couldn’t hear anything between barrages.

Quinn’s antagonist lit a match.

Tom watched as his friend’s entrails were set ablaze.

Then he heard the screams.

“No!” Tom yelled, letting loose with a barrage out of pure rage, his rounds impacting in and around the tree.

Get it under control. That’s not accurate fire, he thought as he replaced the empty magazine and racked the bolt, bringing it back to online and lining up the sight with the tree at the compound’s center.

Tom tried to put Quinn’s agony out of his head. He didn’t know if Quinn had stopped screaming or if he had just blocked it out. Maybe he was dead. Maybe he was dying in agony.

Come on, Quinn. Give me a target.

Can you really kill him? You have to.

Wait, those men who were coming at me from above, they were up there manning something. A weapon system.

I’m sorry, Quinn.

Tom took one last look at the tree, turned, and charged up the hill.