Note: To clear up any confusion that may arise about which vehicle is which, I'd like to explain that after watching the cutscenes numerous times, I saw there were four vehicles which were two SUVs, an armored truck, and another SUV in that order. So, when I say car #3 I mean the truck. Also, since Alpha and Bravo are not present, I had to space out the guys a little more, which is why they aren't all necessarily riding with their partners. Well, that's all. Just wanted to clear that up in case I didn't write it correctly or I confused anyone. Anyway, please enjoy.
The small convoy of three armored SUVs and a truck were motioned in by a security guard through the towering wrought iron gates that surrounded the picturesque villa. The vehicles made their way, one by one, down the drive and circled around the large, concrete fountain that was centered in the yard.
"Okay, guys," Salem radioed to the other men. "Just hang tight. I gotta talk to our client before we hit the road."
He slid open the side door of the car and stepped out onto the stone pathway that led to the mansion before them. A few moments passed before he caught sight of the well dressed man approaching them from his home. In one hand, he held a thin pack of papers, and the other adjusted the black tie around his neck. The man gave Salem a benevolent smile and he politely offered his hand, which Salem accepted with his own gloved, callused one.
"Hola. You are Señor Solem, no?" Cordova greeted with a Mexican pronunciation.
"Uh, Say-lem," he corrected. "But, yeah. Nice to meet you in person."
"Yes, likewise," he said with a nod. "I would like to thank you for your assistance in my mission to take down the cartel. Juarez was once a a beautiful city, and I think with your help we may finally be able to 'clean it up' so to speak."
"Yeah," Salem chuckled. "I want to get rid of 'em as much as the next guy. If you're ready, your ride's the second van."
"Oh, yes, of course."
Salem led Cordova to his designated vehicle, and pulled open the side door. Inside, P.I. and Castle sat across from each other. Cordova greeted them politely as he stepped into the armored car and took a seat next to P.I.
"Make sure to hook the GPS on him before we go," Houston called from the driver's seat.
"Here," Castle said as he tightened the small, square device around Cordova's wrist. "Just precaution in case we loose you, which is really unlikely."
"Thank you," Cordova replied, examining the GPS. "What do you call yourself?"
"Uh, Walter. Walter Castle."
"It is nice to meet you, Señor Castle," Cordova said with a smile as he shook the man's hand. "I am grateful for your services as my protectors."
"Don't worry about it," P.I. replied with a smirk. "We're makin' bank on this job."
Castle kicked him, causing P.I. to flinch and spit out a string of creative threats and obscenities.
"For fuck's sake, will you two act like adults just this once," Rios barked in their earpieces, making the others laugh.
"Hey, Tyse," Salem radioed as he hopped into the truck bed with Chuy. "Nice of you to call. How's everything lookin'?"
"Good so far," Rios answered, examining the computer screen that sat at his desk. "Got a clear image from all your masks and I can hear you just fine. I'm giving you the go-ahead."
"Okay, boys," Salem said, patting the side of the truck. "Move out."
"Roger," Mason said from the driver's seat of the truck. The other men radioed in as well, alerting Salem to their primed and ready state. The convoy then made its way back down the stone drive, the hot Mexican sun beating down on the cars and truck, making Salem grateful for the small breeze that blew across his hair and face and liberated him from the heat.
Minutes later, the group reached their destination and entered into the city of Juarez. They could tell the city had once been beautiful, with its odd mix of modern architecture and hacienda-styled buildings, but had fallen apart from the gang wars and crime that had overtaken it. Graffiti coated apartment buildings and electric poles lined the streets, and locals strolled down the unkept sidewalk, some gawking at the armored vehicles that passed by. The men did last minute checks and adjustments on their armor and guns, while Cordova sat reading the papers in his hand, practicing his speech in quiet mumble.
"Hey, Amp," Salem called into their earpieces. "As much as I love the music, turn off the fuckin' iPod."
Stifled laughs could be heard over the radio.
"Don't know what you're talking about."
"Dude," P.I. said. "Avenged Sevenfold is blaring in my ears."
"Seriously, man," Chuy added. "If you're not gonna turn it off, at least play somethin' good. I vote Wu Tang."
"I second that," Baker added as he followed the convoy in the fourth vehicle. He reached beside him to Amp, who sat in the passenger seat. "Gimme your iPod.
"No."
"How 'bout some Tim McGraw," Houston asked.
"Jesus Christ! Fine!" Amp yelled, ripping out his earbuds. "I'll turn off the goddamn iPod."
"Oh, touchy," Mason said from the front of the armored truck.
"Don't worry guys," P.I. said teasingly. "Amp's just pissed he's got to miss his girlfriend's high school graduation."
The men's boisterous laughter assaulted Amp's ears, further infuriating him. "Why don't you come back here and say that?"
"Okay, ladies," Salem interrupted. "Change your tampons and get over it. You all need to-"
Salem's voice was suddenly cut off as static and interference came over the radio. "Hey, you read me?" he spoke into the walkie talkie hooked on his vest. "Shit. My radio's fucked. Let me see yours."
"Mine's not working either," Chuy answered, lifting his mask and tapping at his earpiece. "I got nothin'."
"Rios? You copy?"
"El-," Rios' voice said before being subjugated by a chorus of crackling and hissing. "-jamming-"
T.W.O HQ
"Salem? Elliot, do you read me?" Rios said onto his radio. "Dammit. Michelle, can you have a look at this? Our radio connection just cut off."
The young mission coordinator rolled her chair to the screen Rios sat in front of and examined each operative's channel and mask feed.
"It's not just us," she answered, situating her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose. "All their radio transmissions seem to be disrupted. See, there's another signal broadcasting on their frequency. It's disrupting their feed."
"This isn't right. Elliot. Elliot, come in. If you can hear this, someone's jamming your signal. Get outta there."
"Oh my God, Rios," Michele yelled, staring at her computer screen that displayed each operative's video feed. "Something's happening."
Car #3
"Something's not right," Salem said to Chuy. "I say we turn back and get-"
The two men in the truck bed watched in horror as an explosion erupted by the first car holding Einstein, Bradley, and Pike, causing it to turn and flip on its top. The pedestrians cried out in shock and scrambled around the area, looking for safety. The burning metal screeched and sparked as it slid across the concrete, finally skidding to a stop when it collided with a nearby palm tree.
Car #2
"Houston, drive!" Castle screamed, grabbing Cordova.
Houston floored the SUV, trying to maneuver around the vehicles behind him as fast as he could. His efforts, however, were in vain. An RPG made contact with their vehicle, ripping off the side door and knocking it over as if it were a small toy. The men were tumbled and thrown around in the back of the van until it rolled to a screeching halt on its roof. Cordova's head was smacked against the wall of the car, almost knocking him unconscious. He sat up, dazed and confused, then caught sight of Castle, lying on his side and holding his injured arm.
Through clenched teeth, Castle breathed, "Run."
Cordova grunted as he rushed to crawl out of the wrecked SUV, broken glass and jagged metal ripping at his exposed flesh and linen suit. When his feet met the pavement, he bolted, occasionally stumbling from his disoriented state, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the roaring gunfire behind him as possible.
Car #3
"Shit!" Salem screamed as the second car exploded. He then moved quickly to hop out of the back of the truck. Just as Chuy stood with him, an explosion rocked their truck over, spilling both men onto the street. The impact with with the ground knocked the wind out of Salem, and he rolled until his back slammed against the curb. When his head cleared, Salem staggered to his feet and pulled out his Desert Eagle. After he saw Chuy slowly stand and take cover behind a pillar, Salem ran back to the truck. He pulled open the driver side door and helped Mason unhook himself from his seatbelt, then pulled him to his feet.
"You okay?" Mason said, looking Salem up and down.
"I'm fine. Listen, we're fucked unless we get these guys outta here, but we need a ride."
"Gotcha," Mason replied. "I'll find one. Check on the others and I'll meet up with you."
Car #4
Amp screamed his partner's name when he saw the explosion erupt at the front of the convoy. He immediately opened the passenger door and was about to step out when Baker grabbed him by the scarf and pulled him back in, trying to hold Amp back while driving the car in reverse. Shots rang out. The window shattered onto Baker's lap and shots peppered the driver's side door. Amp shook free of Baker's grip and fell out onto the concrete street before darting toward the first car.
"Amp! Dammit!" Baker yelled. He jumped out of the car and ran after the other man, but was thrown off his feet when an RPG fulminated behind him, overturning the fourth vehicle. He shook and held his head, discombobulated from the blast, but regained his footing and sprinted toward Amp. When Baker was close enough, he wrapped his arm around Amp and dragged him back behind the cover of a building. Amp struggled in his hold, swearing and attempting to shake loose.
"Amp! Shit, man, look at me!" Baker yelled, shaking him by his shoulders. Amp finally calmed enough to turn his attention to the other man.
"We gotta get outta here and find cover. Are asses are toast if we stay here."
"But, Einstein-"
"I know! Chuy's back there too, but we're no use to them if we take a round to the chest, okay? We all have our GPSs and if the others made it they'll find us, but now we gotta move. You got me?"
Amp stared at him, mouth agape, breathing heavily from the run and struggle. He looked down and shook his head in agreement. Baker patted his shoulder and nodded.
"Okay, good," he said. "Let's go."
Car #1
Bradley awoke in a haze, his mind muddled from the wreck. It took him a while to notice he was upside down, and he even longer for him to fumble with and unhook his seatbelt. He fell hard onto the floor, well roof, of the car, making him hiss in pain. He slid his legs off the seat and began dragging himself out through the broken car window, shattered glass cracking under him as he crawled.
He staggered to his feet, then ran over to the driver's side where Einstein laid motionless, still strapped into his seat. Bradley placed two fingers over the other's carotid artery, and thankfully found a pulse. Taking out his knife, Bradley sliced through the seat belt, releasing Einstein from his seat. Now that he wasn't in any immediate danger, Bradley's thoughts turned to Pike, who was still in the back of the SUV. Bradley backed out of the toppled vehicle and yanked open the side door to find Pike on his side. The younger got on his hands and knees to crawl into the car, and pulled the other over on his back. Bradley checked his pulse, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt the steady thump pulsating under his fingers.
"Pike," he said, shaking the other's shoulder. "Pike, come on."
Pike's eyes fluttered open behind his mask. "Russ?"
"Yeah, man, it's me. We gotta go. There're cartel guys everywhere and Cordova's on the move. We can't-"
Bradley was suddenly pulled by his ankles out of the SUV. When he turned on his back and tried to kick at the assailant, his head was smacked hard by the but of a rifle. He looked up to see a smug, heavily tattooed face peering down at him through the barrel of a gun. Suddenly, a single shot was fired and the gang member's head exploded in a mass of bone and crimson on the concrete. Bradley turned to see Salem lowering his pistol as he and Chuy ran toward him.
You okay, kid?" he asked.
"Yeah, thanks," he breathed. "Einstein's in the front. He's breathing."
"Okay, I'll get him. You and Chuy take care of Pike."
Salem crouched around to the front of the car, and found Einstein still unconscious. He lifted the mask up over his face and gently slapped his cheek, saying," Come on, Hicks. Talk to me."
The blonde gradually opened his eyes and looked around confusedly. Salem grabbed him from under his arms and dragged him out of the overturned car and into the street. Einstein, with Salem's help, stood up and pulled his gun from over his back.
"Where are the other guys? They okay?" he asked with concern.
"As far as I know, yeah," Salem answered. "Amp and Baker are on the move for Cordova, and so are P.I. and Castle. Mason's supposed to be getting us a ride."
A few blocks away...
Mason made his way down the street, taking cover behind bullet riddled buildings and cars. When he had traveled only a couple of blocks, an abandoned truck parked near the sidewalk caught his eye. He snuck along the wall of of an apartment complex and hopped into the rusty pickup, the door creaking and whining as he slammed it closed. Mason kicked off the plastic panel under the steering column, and then began hot-wiring the old truck. When he stripped the wires and touched them together, the car came to life. He backed up the discolored pickup and turned it around to head back to Salem and the others, veering out of the way of abandoned cars and panicked civilians that congested the street.
Car #2
P.I. woke up on his stomach, his back severely aching and the rusty taste of blood on his lips. He sat up with a groan, and turned to see his partner sitting with his back against side door that remained intact, hugging his left shoulder.
"You okay?"
"Arm's fucked," Castle breathed. "Cordova made a run for it. We gotta find him before the cartel."
"Where's Houston?"
"Still in the front- Ah, dammit," he cursed through gritted teeth. When P.I. began crawling toward him he said, "No, I'm fine. Get Houston first."
P.I. nodded and reluctantly left his partner's side to get the other man. He yanked open the door and towed Houston from the car. When he was pulled free from the wreckage, the older man pushed P.I.'s hand away, grumbling something about "no good, rotten sonsabitches."
"You alright, Houston?"
"I'll live, but those bastards won't when I'm done with 'em," Houston growled, pulling his shotgun out of the car.
"Yeah, you're just fine," P.I. said, patting his shoulder. "I'll be back."
He returned to the back of the SUV and slid in next to Castle, who hadn't moved from his place against the side door. His eyes were lidded and he shook his head as he muttered to himself.
"Fi-find Cordo-Cordova."
"Castle, snap out of it. Let me see your arm. Wally!"
Castle released his shoulder and let his partner tend to his wound.
"It's outta socket, man," P.I. said with a cringe. "Gotta pop it back in."
"No wait, sto-Ow, fuckin' shit!" Castle screamed when his partner slid a boot onto his torso and pulled his arm back into place. The injured man doubled over, almost slipping out of consciousness.
"Oh, no you don't," P.I. said, supporting Castle back against the door. "Stay with me, Wally, we gotta-"
A blast from Houston's shotgun bombarded their ears. "Damn, they're everywhere," he shouted, cocking the weapon. "I'll cover ya. Go!"
"We can't just leave you, Houston," P.I. yelled over the approaching gunfire.
"Don't worry 'bout me," he said, shooting down another cartel member. "I gotta get to Mason. You boys find Cordova."
P.I. nodded and helped Castle out of the wrecked vehicle and stood him up. The two ran behind the car for cover and readied their weapons before bolting down the street.
Car #1
"I'm out," Pike called out after unloading his last round into the oncoming cartel members.
"Me too," Einstein said, hooking his empty Barrett REC7 behind his back and pulling his SIG pro from his leg holster. "Where do these guys keep coming from?"
"Guys, we need to get to Baker and Amp's car," Salem shouted. "There's extra clips and weapons there. Better us get 'em than the cartel." He began firing blindly over the barrier of the overturned truck. "I'll cover you. Grab what you can."
"Roger," Pike answered. He, along with Bradley, Einstein, and Chuy close behind, crouched behind the cover of abandoned vehicles, bobbing and weaving as they made their way through the war-pervaded city block. When the three were out of sight, Salem unhooked a grenade from his belt and pulled the pin before hurling the explosive over the truck. As soon as the grenade detonated and the blast rang in his ears, Salem darted toward the other men, protected under the cover of dust and debris. He ran about twenty feet behind them, putting a bullet in any cartel member's head that attempted to flank them, stopping only to pick up a pump action shotgun and shells that laid by the bloody, bullet riddled corpse of a tattooed, shirtless thug.
The three soon reached the toppled SUV and pulled the dented side door from its hinges. Pike climbed on top of the car's side and lowered himself inside. He then passed guns one at a time out of the open door to Bradley and Einstein, who strapped and pocketed all the weapons and ammunition they could carry.
Einstein stilled when Amp's shattered iPod caught his eye. He lowered himself on one knee and solemnly scooped up the broken device, the snapped and exposed circuit board the only thing holding it in one piece. A gasp escaped his lips when he saw the thin blood trail that trickled down the concrete and disappeared out of sight into a vacant alleyway. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Chuy giving him a weak smile.
"I'm sure he's okay, man," he said reassuringly. "Amp's tough, and Baker's with him."
"Where the hell's that ride?" Pike asked Salem as he approached them, tossing him an extra gun.
"Don't know," Salem answered. "Better hurry the fuck up though. More of 'em are headed our way."
He stood from behind the cover of the car and was about to fire on two more advancing gangsters when the roar of an engine suddenly drew close. A rusty pickup came seemingly from nowhere and collided with the two cartel members, throwing one under the tires and crushing his skull. The other rolled over the hood of the truck, cracking and bloodying the windshield. Gunshots rang from the driver side window as Mason fired his revolver at more of the approaching thugs.
"Sorry for the wait," Mason said as Salem hopped into the passenger seat and the other four men took their place in the bed. He put the truck in reverse and backed up, causing the corpse on the windshield to roll off onto the concrete with a sickening thud.
Six blocks away...
"Baker, slow down," Amp called as he ran behind the other man. "You're bleeding."
Baker slowed to a stop, his breaths heavy from the run. He gave Amp a confused look. "What?"
"You're bleeding, man," he reiterated. "Your leg."
Baker looked down to see a crimson stream trickling down from a bullet wound in his left thigh. He leaned against a wall of the alley and slid down to the ground. "Dammit."
Amp threw his gun behind his back and pulled a roll of white gauze from one of the packs on his belt. After kneeling down in front of the injured man, he said, "Here. I'll patch you up."
Baker snatched the gauze from his hand. "Don't touch me," he spat. "I can do it my self."
Amp scoffed and got back to his feet. He swung his M27 rifle to his front and reloaded another clip, while Baker wound the bandage around his bleeding thigh. "Look, I know you don't like me, or whatever, but I just wanna get through this, okay?"
Baker snorted and shook his head. "I wanna get through this too," he replied. "And I think I have a better chance on my own instead of draggin' your punk ass around."
"Listen, asshole," Amp snapped. "GPS says Chuy and Einstein are together with Salem, who is gonna go after Cordova. I say we go that way too and meet up with 'em. Then, you won't have to drag my punk ass around."
Baker glared at him from the ground, then slowly stood up without breaking eye contact. "Alright, fine, I'll go. But if you ever talk to me like that again, I'm shootin' your ass."
Amp stepped back, then lowered his mask. "Okay, good. At least we agreed to something."
About half a Klick southwest...
"Where the hell are we going?" Salem asked, watching as the faded billboards and graffiti-lined brick walls rushed past their pickup.
"Just following the contact's directions," Mason answered.
Salem gave him a quizzical look. "How the hell are you talkin' to 'em? Our radios were fucked."
"She's on a different channel, so whatever was blocking us hasn't effected her."
"She?" Salem asked.
"Yeah," Mason said with questioning look. "That a problem?"
"No, it's just..." Salem trailed off. "When Michele said the contact knew the cartel inside and out, I was expecting some thug that was selling out, not a local girl."
Mason chuckled. "Not everyone in Mexico's afraid of the cartels."
Salem nodded, then turned to the driver. "Let me talk to her. I need to know what the plan is."
Mason agreed and told him which channel to turn to. After Salem fixed his walkie-talkie, he put it to his mouth and spoke. "This is Salem with T.W.O. Do you copy?"
"I can hear you loud and clear, jefe," a woman's voice said over the radio.
"Who is this?"
"I'm Mason's contact."
"Yeah, I got that. Maybe you can elaborate a little so I know who's tellin' my guys where to go."
The woman chuckled. "Mason was right. You are grouchy. Name's Fiona."
Salem shot Mason a glare, then put the walkie talkie back to his mouth. "Name sounds familiar."
"Your location is crawling with cartel," Fiona continued. "I sent some friends to meet Mason and bring you all back to my safehouse."
"Uh, Salem?" Pike interrupted as he slid open the window behind his seat. "Don't wanna worry you or anything, but those cars have been following us for awhile now."
Salem turned around in his seat to get a better view out the back window. Sure enough, in the disparate mix of traffic, three black SUVs could be seen trailing close behind them.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath. "Listen lady. Our hands are kinda full right now. We come now and we'll bring the cartel right to your doorstep."
Mason suddenly veered left, screaming, "Look out!"
A fourth SUV intercepted the road and rammed into the passenger side door, knocking the radio from Salem's hand and crushing the door. The truck gave a violent lurch, and the four men in the back were launched onto the floor of the bed, screaming and holding on for dear life as they were brutally tossed and throw in the back of spinning pickup. Finally, the totaled vehicle skidded to a stop, a dust cloud engulfing the atmosphere around it.
"Get your ass outta my face!" Chuy snapped as he shoved Einstein off of him and picked up his primary weapon. The blonde rolled backward from the push and clumsily fell against the tailgate.
"Sorry," he said with a moan.
Pike shook his head and sluggishly picked himself off of Bradley's legs. "Dammit, Mason," he groaned, fixing the straps on his dark blue mask painted with a white bullseye design. "Watch where you're going."
Mason smacked the steering wheel in frustration as smoke billowed from the crumpled hood of the truck that was bent around an electric pole. He looked over to Salem, who was kicking the at the door and pulling at his leg. "You okay?" Mason asked.
"Door's got me pinned," Salem huffed. "Leg's stuck."
Both men jumped when gun fire erupted behind them. Mason threw open the door and stepped out of the pickup.
"Keep your head down," he said to Salem, who continued to squirm in his seat. "We'll get you out after we take care of these bastards."
He pulled out his Glock 22 pistol and crouched around the car next to the others, who had their primary weapons at the ready. Mason, Einstein, and Chuy began firing on the cartel, drawing their attention and gaining 'aggro' like they had been trained to do with Rios and Salem for years. That gave Pike and Bradley, the marksmen of the small group, an opening to snipe the thugs under the cover of their fire. Salem kept low, still struggling and kicking against the crushed car door. His breath caught in his throat when he saw a Mk3 grenade tumble and roll across the thin layer of sand covering the vacant lot and come to a stop about fifteen feet from the truck.
"Oh, shit," he whined, bending over and wrapping his arms around his head. Though it only took a second, waiting for the blast felt like an eternity. When it finally detonated, Salem felt like every particle in body was rattled and shifted. He couldn't see and the only noise audible to his throbbing ears was a piercing, shrill ring. Familiar, but far away voices cried out, making him jolt and attempt to sit up, but to no avail. The whole world seemed to spin uncontrollably around him, and he slumped over onto his knees. Eventually, his head cleared enough and he slowly sat back up when the smell of smoke pervaded his nostrils. He turned to see flames engulfing the bed of the old pickup, set ablaze by the explosion. That's when he panicked. Salem began feverishly kicking at the twisted metal around his calf, his breaths growing more shallow with every passing second. He was not about to go through this again. He would take an elevator over this any day.
"Mason!" he hollered in desperation.
Mason turned to see flames inching toward the cab of the truck. He cursed under his breath, then turned back to the other men by his side.
"Keep them off of me. Chuy, Einstein, I need your help."
Bradley and Pike nodded and continued the assault, while Chuy and Einstein crept behind cover toward Mason, who was headed for the truck. He crawled into the driver's side and stretched his legs over Salem's lap, then began slamming his boots against the crumpled metal. The other two crouched to the passenger side door, and tried pulling it open from the outside.
"This isn't working," Mason called out to the others when he saw the fire creep closer. "We need something to pry it off, like a crowbar or something. Check that old building over there, and hurry."
Einstein and Chuy looked over to the abandoned structure to their left, long forgotten and plastered with faded, crumpled advertisements and spray paint. The two stooped behind the truck and made their way toward the building, entering through the wide, windowless sills. They began their search, desperately rummaging through jilted boxes and toppling over crates, looking for anything they could use to jimmy open the door.
"Anything?" Chuy called out.
"Nothin'," Einstein answered disappointedly. "Just a bunch of random shit and these barrels of gas."
"Wait," Chuy said as he stood up. "Barrels of what?"
"Gas," Einstein restated. "You know. Like, gasoline. These rusty barrels are full of it."
Chuy gave Einstein an amused look. "Help me," he said with a smirk. "Got an idea."
"Come on," Mason grunted through clenched teeth. He gripped Salem from under his arms and pushed off of the gear shift panel with his right foot, pulling hard under the trapped man's shoulders. Salem's body shifted with the force and he cried out in pain, making Mason stop.
"No," he barked. "Don't stop. You almost had me."
"If I pull any harder I'm gonna break your leg," Mason snapped. "Pike! Bradley! Help me!"
"Little busy!" Pike called as he shot down another advancing cartel member.
Bradley lowered his weapon. "Uh, what are Chuy and Einstein doing?"
Mason turned to see the other two men hastily rolling two barrels, the metal red with rust, toward the enemy's vehicles. They gave the containers a final kick forward, then jumped behind cover by Bradley and Pike as bullets ricocheted around them."
"If you want me shoot those," Pike said. "It's not gonna work. Just stuff in movies."
"Don't worry," Chuy said with a grin. "Left a little something inside."
As soon as the barrels tapped against the bumper two of the parked vehicles, the grenades inside detonated, engulfing the cars and the thugs hiding behind them in a colossal inferno. The men who survived the initial blast screamed in agony as the flames consumed them. Within seconds, they were silenced, devoured by the deadly blaze.
The men cringed at the sight, but where grateful the firefight was over. They were shaken from their relieved thoughts when Mason called out to them, continuing to struggle against the car door. The four rushed over to the burning pickup, each grabbing on to the passenger door from the outside.
"Okay," Mason said. "On three. One. Two. Three!"
As the men pulled and Salem and Mason kicked hard against the door, the metal creaked and moaned, then gave a little. They all stopped momentarily, out of breath, then on on Mason's count, began tugging again. Einstein pushed against the front tire with his feet and clawed at the edge of the opened window, while Bradley and Pike pulled hard from the center, digging their heals in the arid dirt. Chuy gripped tightly to the door handle, kicking off against the side of the truck bed with all his might. The door groaned and rasped from the pressure, and with a sudden loud clang, the hinges gave and the dented metal fell from the car. Mason and Salem fell hard out the driver's side from the unexpected release. The door fell on top off Bradley and Pike, who quickly pushed the rusted piece of metal off of their legs. Chuy fell back onto the dusty ground, while Einstein tumbled backward, wildly kicking up sand and dirt as he rolled. Mason and Salem gave a sigh of relief, and Salem helped the other to his feet, thanking him.
"Hello? Mason?" Fiona's voice called out from the walkie talkie. "Report."
Salem walked over leaned down to pick up the small radio from the sand.
"Anyone alive out there?" she asked.
Salem looked back at the five other men. Everyone seemed to be uninjured. Mason, Chuy, and Pike picked up all the weapons and ammunition they could salvage from the crash, while Bradley helped Einstein to his feet and brushed the fine sand from his hair and tactical gear. Salem put the walkie talkie to his mouth.
"Salem reporting in," he answered. "Yeah, we're still kickin'. Just ran into a little trouble, but it's been taken care of."
"The cartel won't stop until they hunt you don't," Fiona argued. "We need to get you to that safehouse ASAP."
"Looks like the plan's changed."
"No," she said. "If we can get you to the meeting point, they can get you out of there. I know it doesn't sound like much of a plan, but-"
"We'll take it," Salem answered. "But our ride's trashed, so you'll have to tell us how to get out of here."
"No problem. I've got your masks on GPS. I can give you directions from here."
Salem nodded, then waved the other men over. "Copy that," he answered. "We're moving out."