Page 99 of Lash

It is an agonizingly brutal climb to the top. We reach it at long last, and slump, huffing and puffing, in the brush just below the rim, waiting for the patrol to pass before emerging so we aren't surprised by them.

Once they pass us, we slip out onto the short, rain-slick grass behind them. With a glance at each other, we count to three and then put slugs through the back of their heads and then topple them down the ravine—the bodies flip and bounce and roll with a series of loud crashes.

Which no one notices over the gunfire.

We jog forward and encounter another pair approaching us—they see us and immediately open fire. We both go prone the second we see them raising their AK-47s; their rounds go high and ours do not.

"They scaled the side!" someone shouts on the enemy comms. “Rear of the property." The speaker calls out half a dozen names and tells them to handle it.

"It's working," Solomon reports. "Half a dozen tangos just peeled off and headed your way."

"I have reloaded and I am moving locations," Tatiana says.

"Copy," Solomon says. "Be quick. We're going to assault soon and we'll need you. Keep your scope on us and watch for anyone approaching from behind or on our flank. Use the clock—do you know it?"

"Yes. Twelve o'clock is front, six is rear. So I would say bad guy on your four o'clock or something like this, no?"

"Use the word tango," Sol says. "Otherwise, yes."

“Tango? Like the dance?"

"Correct."

"Roger."

Scarlett and I sprint for the hacienda's wall, following it forward toward the entrance. A large air conditioning condenser hums noisily. We take cover behind it, and I peek around the side—three male figures jog this way, carrying assault rifles.

We wait until they're nearly on top of us before we send bursts in tandem over the top of the condenser. They're thrown backward by the impacts, momentum making them topple and roll awkwardly. The chatter on the enemy comms has ceased abruptly, which means they've likely switched to a new channel. I ignore that as we continue toward the main entrance of the house. We reach the front corner and halt, I peek around the side and assess.

The gate is no longer manned, and the bridge is littered with bodies. Tatiana’s rifle cracks again, and again. An assault rifle on this side chatters.

"I am taking fire. Moving," Tatiana says.

I peek out and see the flash of muzzle burst. I put three rounds a few inches behind the burst and hear a soft grunt.

"Approaching the bridge," Solomon announces. "Overwatch, do you have eyes on us?"

"Not…yet," she puffs. "One…moment."

Several figures rush out of the entrance of the hacienda, kneel at the gate of the pen, and open fire. Our side returns fire, but everyone's rounds go high or wide.

"In…position," Tatiana says, out of breath still. "I see you."

"We're taking fire," Solomon says.

"I have them," Tatiana answers.

Scarlett and I trade glances, and then roll out from behind the cover of the corner, opening fire. The figures twitch and spin and lurch as our rounds hit them, and then the rifle cracks and another one falls backward. We retreat back behind the corner. A minute or so later, there's the crump of explosives as the bridge gate is blown open.

The rain has let up, finally, leaving the air a bit cooler and noticeably less humid, with a soft breeze blowing. It is fully night now, the last of the daylight having bled beneath the horizon. I peek out and see our crew jogging across the blacktop that leads from the bridge in a straight line to the courtyard of the hacienda.

I hear the crackle-chatter of an assault rifle behind me and something hot snaps past my ear. I spin and drop to a knee, jerking Scarlett down with me. The other three tangos must have circled the structure looking for us; only the fact that the shooter had poor aim saved my life. Bullets buzz and snap and whine, and we crabwalk behind the AC unit—thunks and dings echo as rounds hit the unit. One punches through and I hear a crunching grind as the unit shuts down.

They have us pinned down, working in trained concert to keep suppressive fire directed at us. "Overwatch, do you see us? Behind the A-C unit."

"No, I do not have an angle from where I am."

"Okay," I answer. "Stay where you are, then.”