EndWar by David Michaels

Author:David Michaels
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Moscow (Russia), Action & Adventure, Intelligence officers, Fiction, Suspense, Spy stories, War & Military, Suspense fiction, World War III, Espionage
ISBN: 9780425222140
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 2008-02-05T06:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-THREE

Almost every vehicle in the brigade possessed a built-in GPS to pinpoint their exact location. All you had to do was click on a blue icon to learn exactly which unit that was. If you saw an enemy, you could e-mail in the report, and red icons would appear on every display in the brigade.

But when Private Hassa shouted and Sergeant Appleman added, “The screen’s showing nothing. No enemy contacts,” Sergeant Marc Rakken knew better and sprang into action. “We have to get out!”

“Hassa, stop!” hollered Appleman.

“Let’s move, let’s move!” Rakken ordered.

Before the ramp had fully lowered, Rakken’s squad was out on the embankment, up to their ankles in slush and snow.

Smoke billowed from two of the four Strykers in Rakken’s rifle platoon. Pieces of the road were gone. The stench of gasoline hung heavily in the air. With a whine, ramps opened on the two smoldering vehicles, and the squads stumbled out, coughing and disoriented. A few guys fell to their knees.

The vehicle commanders were already screaming for medics as still more troops leapt from the backs of the Strykers behind them, fanning out to sweep the area, a broad section of the interstate with literally no place to hide.

And above, fighter planes sliced through the clouds, engines echoing.

“Russian jets all the way down here? No way!” shouted Appleman.

“They’re ours!” hollered Rakken. “That’s a flight of Raptors.”

“Did they fire on us?” asked Appleman.

“I don’t think so. They’re covering.” Rakken bit back a curse and jogged to the front of the Stryker, where Hassa was in her driver’s hatch. “What’d you see?”

“They just lit up, one after another.”

“Nothing dropped?”

“No. And we went over our vehicles with a fine-toothed comb, like we always do.”

“Sergeant?” Rakken called to Appleman. “Better send up word. Those Green Vox bastards didn’t stop at the mess hall.”

“Oh, man. They must’ve planted them on the vehicles.”

“Think about it. The Russians planned their attack. They knew in advance we’d be called up. The Brigade hit the mess hall, now they hit us again. That’s too much of a coincidence. I think they’re back to working for the Russians.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

Rakken sighed. “All right. A Team? You got security.” He cocked his thumb toward the still-burning Strykers. “B Team, go help ’em out!”

About a quarter mile back, another explosion suddenly rocked the convoy. Then, six vehicles up, yet another series of booms.

“I’m getting out,” shouted Hassa, quickly dismounting from the vehicle and jogging away, as though it, too, might explode.

This was exactly what the Russians wanted, thought Rakken. Delays and paranoia.

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