Sean's heart was in his throat as he dove for cover.

He slid to a halt inside the stone shed and crouched against the wall-

BOOM-KRASSHH

The night air was lacerated with crashing debris and alarmed shrieks. One hunk of debris smashed against the wall of his cover and for one suspended heartbeat he though the stacked stone wall would collapse. But amazingly, it held.

In between the aftershocks and curses Sean heard rifle shots and smiled to himself. He loaded the Welrod and looked out.

The Afrika Korps soldiers ran about madly or took cover facing the former radio tower. Sean saw two of them drop from Fairburne's shots within seconds of each other. They seemed oblivious to Fairburne's presence however, with noise drowning out his shots and plenty of bodies around already from the shrapnel produced by the explosion.

"Find him!" A sergeant screamed. "Goddamn it, FIND the bastard that did that!"

Sean saw soldiers that were in the tent camp across the stream sprinting across the bridge, shouting. "What is it? What the hell happened?"

If he waited until they were all across he would have a clear way back through the camp and to the panzers.

Sean slipped out the other side and laid a trip mine just outside his hide-out's other entrance. He took position on his belly at the entrance facing the bridge and waited.

Five, six, eight, twelve, sixteen, twenty; there were far more men in the camp than he'd assumed. But he saw Fairburne shooting the stragglers and those foolish enough to get separated from their teammates.

Once no soldiers had crossed it for a bit, Sean climbed himself back into a crouch.

At that moment he heard a truck pull up nearby.

Shit.

He looked around the entryway. A military truck pulled up in the main road through the town. Three men and a major who demanded to know what was going on climbed out. All eyes were on them, so Fairburne couldn't take any of them out without revealing his position.

Sean looked around, trying to look for an alternate route. Nothing. He had to wait again, every second increasing his risk of being found. He looked at the boxes about the shed again, and the bridge.

If I go prone and stay behind cover, I might be able to make it halfway, and run the last distance when I'm past the bridge. Sean thought. It wasn't a safe idea; if one of them looked his way he was done for, but the krauts were getting closer and closer to his position.

One ran past the shed close enough that Sean could hear his canteen rattling. It made the decision for him.

He crawled out, agonizingly slow, staying behind the crates and debris. The sand sloped down to the creek on a heavy decline, and when he reached it Sean slipped behind the swell. He got to his feet on the bridge.

Once his feet were on sand again, he dove behind the building Fairburne had cleared.

He heard no voices behind him, only the racing of his own blood through his ears. He sighed and pulled out the Welrod again.

He moved quickly behind a rock near the largest tent. Sean looked around the corner and saw the guards moving toward the disaster, muttering: "What the hell's wrong now?"

Seeing no guards in the tent, Sean moved in fast, and was then behind the tent, and into the second part of the camp.

Karl swore under his breath.

The mission was panning out well enough, but Markson seemed determined to get himself killed.

Not only with jumping through a second story window to get clear of the blast sooner (fat lot of good it would have done him if he'd broken his legs in the fall), but rushing into areas Karl hadn't cleared yet. And now he wasn't giving Karl time to move into a new position.

He ran down, looking to see that the camp was completely free of guards (and it was). He raced through the flaps of the back of the tent, knowing that each second he wasn't in a good position was one where Markson had no cover. He found a spot immediately on a slightly elevated rock formation just behind the tent that overlooked most of the motor pool.

He left a trip mine behind him for any followers and lay on his belly with his rifle and set to work again.

Markson had already shot two men with the Welrod and dragged their bodies behind cover before getting behind the nearest panzer, where he set the first charge. For a heart-stopping moment Karl thought the fool would light the charge immediately, but Markson instead moved to new cover closer to the panzer that was farthest from them, and slightly hidden by a canopy shielding another panzer.

Bastard; determined as you are, you won't die on my watch. Karl thought.

It seemed that Markson's plan was designed to be finished by the final stroke; he'd set the charges on all of them first but would then only arm one and get to cover before it set off a chain explosion, or to not light any and instead set off the gas tank nearby and let that set off the chain explosion after getting to cover. Karl's considerations for the plan therefore required figuring out whether or not Markson needed him to shoot the tanker. It was safer for both of them in the long run if he did - Markson would theoretically have more time to get to safety. But after his previous behavior Karl doubted that he'd leave himself enough time. If Markson made a suicidally close run, there wouldn't be much Karl could do from his position.

As he considered these things, he watched the troops move through the motor pool. They were agitated, judging from their haste and how closely they gripped their guns, but were paying less attention to any cover spots where Markson could hide as a result. They were concentrated on the eastern side opposite Markson and the panzer he'd set the charges on. Four men who were all clustered together closely enough that they all had a good view of each other, wandered the center of the motor pool where crates of supplies were scattered about sandbag defenses. No way could he shoot them without the others realizing his presence.

There was, however, another man patrolling along the edge of the house that separated the supply crates and second from the third panzer. An easy shot, all he had to do was time it during a thunder roll. Karl watched Markson while slipping glances to the spot where the patrolling soldier was supposed to emerge.

He had to admit that for all his recklessness Markson was good. He was utterly silent, slipped through cover like a shadow, and dropped any man that got too close with pinpoint accuracy before they had the chance to spot him. Markson had no trouble affixing the charge to the third panzer, but the second would be trickier. For one, it was in the middle of the motor pool and surrounded by guards.

Instead of moving to the panzer directly, Markson retraced his steps back the covered space where the panzer was. He dragged a man he'd killed with the Welrod behind him and waited until the patrols were not facing him to drag the man out into the open before moving back into cover. Clever, but reckless.

The first patrolman saw the corpse. "What the hell- shit, Neumann get over here! It's Schuster!" Another patrolman ran over. As he did Markson moved from his position past the corner and behind the last panzer, where he placed the last explosives pack.

Sean moved as quickly as he could without raising the alarm. The cliffs on the eastern side had a slope until halfway up and many ridges and handholds for the rest of the way to the top. That was his and Fairburne's escape route.

Once he'd made the last mad dash to the side of a house at the foot of the slope he looked back. Fairburne was picking his way back across the southern ridge overlooking the camp. He was moving slowly, and sticking to the shadows so closely that Sean initially didn't see him. In the dark, look for shapes and movement, not color. His old instructor had told him. It held true here, though Fairburne was doing an admirable job by moving so slowly.

Sean scanned the area, looking for pursuers. The patrolmen were starting to fan out in search of their enemy, but they were concentrating on the western side. A glint of light caught Sean's eye.

His blood froze when he saw the blurry shape atop the building that was behind the first panzer. He instinctively dove for cover, but Fairburne hadn't done the same.

God, he can't see that sniper from his position. Sean realized. T

he shadows came back, with figments.

Patterson called out a warning, but it was too late.

Marg screamed when a stick-grenade hit Oliver.

The blast from the panzer made everything else seem silent.

No. No, that was then. Not now.

Sean leveled his rifle at the shape atop the building. Wind south by south-west, about five miles an hour; adjust. Spin. Drop significant given target's height.

Breath in.

Breath out.

Squeeze the trigger.

The crack of the rifle seemed to shatter the air. A rifle clattered to the ground from the top of a building. The patrolmen screamed again, thinking that they were onto their target. Their last words, but how could they know any more than Patterson and the others did?

Sean got behind cover and shot the gas tank.

He didn't hear the explosion.

His senses came back in pieces.

His head was throbbing.

The stars were blurred and smudged across the sky. It slowly rotated before his eyes.

He heard nothing, nothing at all though but he knew he should be hearing something, but it escaped him what it was. He just remembered that it should be so loud that he couldn't just not hear it.

He tried to sit up, and his body obeyed him, if somewhat slowly.

His rifle lay a few feet away. Something was off with the barrel, but he couldn't tell what.

Hands grabbed his arms and pulled him backwards. He briefly panicked as he remembered that he was on a mission in enemy territory.

But when he looked up he met the slate-blue eyes of Karl Fairburne. Fairburne was yelling something, but Sean still couldn't hear him. He tightened his grip on his rifle as Fairburne got him on his feet. H

e started running up the slope when Fairburne looped his arms around him and started leading him up the slope. "Come on!" He thought he yelled, but he could only feel his vocal cords vibrate to know he'd actually spoken; nothing but a faint ringing sound penetrated them.

The sweat on the back of his neck felt cold. He could not hear enemies approaching or hear any warnings Fairburne might shout. A deaf sniper was as good as a blind one.

They had to get out. Go, go, go; get back to Drew.

They scrambled and ran up the ledges. Sean could swear that a bullet narrowly missed him and hit the rock next to his head. He nearly fainted with relief a second later when he heard, albeit muffled, Fairburne shout "Get down!"

Fairburne practically threw him over the edge once they reached the top, and the sound the pebbles made as Sean slid down a-ways was sweet as any music.

Fairburne grabbed him by the front of his shirt with a face like thunder. "You idiot!"

Sean stared at him dumbly. "What?"

"What? You nearly blew yourself up, that's what!" Sean hadn't heard Fairburne sound so angry since Drew baited him into the oasis and then stole his trousers, when he first joined their patrol.

"The rest of 'em would've heard." Sean explained. "So I took the shot before they could find us."

"They wouldn't have known where you were if you'd stayed quiet!"

"And let that sniper blow your head off?" Sean snapped.

The deep furrow in Fairburne's brow lessened and he relaxed his grip on Sean's shirt. "There was a sniper?"

"He was in your blind spot." A thinking twist appeared in Fairburne's lips. He let go of Sean.

A pregnant silence stretched out between them. "…then, thank you."

Sean smiled wryly. "I was doing my job. Same as you."