Invasion by D C Alden

Author:D C Alden [Alden, D C]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Calibre
Published: 2006-01-01T23:00:00+00:00

As he lobbed the grenades, Forsythe ducked his head and pulled his pistol. Seconds later, the detonation of the grenade almost burst his eardrums and he felt a sharp pain in his left shin as a white-hot fragment of metal buried itself deep into his flesh. The tunnel quickly filled with thick green smoke and he heard screaming and angry shouts.

Keeping low, he crawled forward out of the alcove and turned to his left. A burst of machine-gun fire raked the tunnel wall around his head, soon joined by another. He heard screaming close by and found the source: an Afghan soldier clutching his groin in agony. Forsythe crawled up over his blood-soaked legs and then across his torso. He jammed his pistol in the man’s chest and fired twice. The body went limp beneath him and he tore the man’s machine pistol from his shoulder strap. He heard voices shouting behind him as thick green smoke swirled around the tunnel.

Forsythe kept moving, crawling away from the smoke towards the distant platform. Soon, the green fog began to thin out and through the haze he could see the lights of the tunnel wall. Now the enemy was behind him. He rose to his knees and checked the weapon. A full magazine; good. Forsythe thought the odds were beginning to stack in his favour.

Apart from the screams and moans of the wounded, he could hear no more firing. The enemy troops were obviously afraid of hitting each other in the confusion and, before the smoke fully cleared, Forsythe decided to create some more havoc. He set the weapon to full auto and raked both sides of the tunnel with two long bursts. He threw the empty weapon to one side and headed towards the platform, rewarded by the sound of fresh screaming.

Ahead of him he saw a pair of boots. They were splayed at an awkward angle and Forsythe realised the man was dead, killed by the grenade by the look of his wounds. He quickly scooped up the man’s weapon, turned and fired again across the whole width of the tunnel, keeping his shots low. This time he was answered with a short burst of fire that whizzed over his head and chewed up the concrete ceiling behind him. Forsythe cut across the tracks, trying to keep one step ahead of the enemy. He moved forward, a little more quickly now, eager to escape.

Another movement ahead caught his eye and he dropped to one knee and fired his pistol. The figure cried out and hit the floor hard. He heard a scrape behind him and turned to see another soldier dragging himself along the ground, a slick trail of blood on the floor behind him.

Forsythe surged forward. He had taken three or four steps when he lost his footing. He came down hard, his helmet spinning loose from his head and he cried out in pain as his right arm shattered on the concrete floor. His pistol skidded away from him under the impact.

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