Chapter 9
The cold desertair whipped down through Rock Valley, kicking up straight tendrils of sand and blowing it straight up the ridge face where Cord and his spotter lay on their stomachs blending in with the parched brown shrubs androcks.
His neck ached, his back cramped and his bladder burned for relief, but Cord didn’t move so much as aninch.
His spotter, Jake Robinson, a.k.a. Little Ghost, shifted up onto his left arm so he could reach down and scratch his side. “Where the fuck are these guys? Intelligence said they’d be here hoursago.”
Cord kept his left eye shut, his right resting on the scope of his sniper rifle. “And the CIA never gets anythingwrong.”
Jake let out a low snort of laughter and peered through his binoculars. “I think someone should tell them that terrorists don’t work on atimeline.”
Cord chuckled, methodically sweeping the south end of the ravine. He and Jake had climbed into their overwatch position two days ago, put together a rough hideout and set up shop. They had been assigned to a unit of Marines who’d taken up a position at the north end of Death Valley. If everything went according to plan, and it never did, the terrorists would bottleneck from the south, allowing the Marine unit to pick them off halfway through their approach. A secondary unit of air support would flank them from behind. All so they could stop these bastards before they delivered a truck load of RPGs to theirallies.
“What do you think about the Marines down there? Looks to me like they’re plucking their asses right out of junior high these days,” Jakesaid.
The wind shifted, rustling Cord’s bandana. “They’re young, but their Staff Sgt. is a real tough son of abitch.”
Jake lowered his binoculars, scribbled some notes in his three-by-five notebook and said, “Adjust your sites .03 mm to the left.” He and Jake had worked together for nearly six months, melding easily. They’d fallen into a natural partnership that only a few of the sniper teams were lucky enough tofind.
Cord spotted movement at the north end and cursed. He hit the switch on the comm system around his neck. “Hitman One, the moonlight is squinting off your guy’s penis. Tell him to zip up his pants before he gets you guyskilled.”
Indeed, a single Marine had stepped away from his pack to take a piss. They’d be lucky if he didn’t give away theirposition.
Staff Sgt. McGee’s answer came fast and harsh. “Roger. Ricki, grab that dumbass before he gets us allkilled.”
Jake chuckled and zoomed in on the unit with his binoculars. “That kid’s got a tattoo of Mickey Mouse on his left ass cheek. How much you want to bet he wasn’t sober when he got thatone?”
“He better not have been sober or I’m going to kick his ass,” Cord watched through the scope as Sgt. McGee grabbed the newbie and threw him back into position behind the outcropping of rocks. “I can’t hear what Hitman is saying, but I’m pretty sure there are a few choice curse words being thrown around downthere.”
“I’m gonna start cursing if these fuckers don’t show up. This’ll be the third time the CIA screwed up their intel. How hard can it be to track a ton ofRPGs?”
“Don’t worry, the commander will call it at sunrise if they don’t show.” Cord swept his gaze down the length of the valley, moving in a practiced grid, checking for any hint of movement. They’d kept watch over the entire valley for two days straight, taking naps in two-hour shifts so that someone always had eyes on thescene.
“Good” Jake said with a grin, “the new ‘Call of Duty’ should be available for download. I’m ready to kick some teenager’sass.”
A sharp burst of wind kicked dust into his face and Cord’s vision blurred. He lifted his head and rubbed his eye, effectively driving the grit deeper into his pupil. “You’re going to have to play better than you did last time. It might help if you stopped video chatting with Vanessa long enough to focus on yourgame.”
Jake lowered his binocs, swiped a dirty arm across his face and grinned. “You’re just jealous because I have a hot wife who lovesme.”
Cord snorted and rolled his eyes before settling back against the butt of his rifle. “Vanessa is hot, no doubt aboutthat.”
Jake shoved an elbow into his side. “And married tome.”
“Just because she saw you first.” Cord swept his scope to the south end and then back to the north. “Holy shit, you seethat?”
The air of joking vanished. Jake gripped his binocs. “Damn, it’s a fucking laser.” Jake dropped his thumb to the mic. “Hitman One, covernow.”
A loud boom pierced the silence, followed directly by a high-pitched whistle. A bright ball of fire arced across the dark sky toward the unit on the ground. “Incoming!”
Time stilled. Cord’s blood turned to ice. Helpless horror dug into his chest. The RPG whistle seemed to fade away, replaced by the sound of his heart rushing through hisears.
The RPG exploded in a huge ball of orange flames. Men shouted. Bodies flew. Cord jerked away from the scope, unable to watch the carnage upclose.
In that instant, Cord didn’t see the explosion. He didn’t even see the desert. His mind flashed back to when he was seven yearsold.
It was summer and his father was drunk. Again. He lit a bottle rocket and aimed it at Cord, laughing the whole time. All Cord could do was huddle beneath a dollar store plasticchair.
The bottle rocket went off, whistling straight over Cord and through their kitchen window. The bright streak of light had enthralled him. It was the last time they’d celebrated the fourth ofJuly.
