Cautiously, stealthily, they crept toward the camp and the perimeter guard. Hands shaking, Alex waited poised with the gun ready as the patrol approached. Nervously, she bit her lip as she heard his steady approach.
Counting the seconds now, she waited. A few more feet and he'd be in position. Closer, closer he came.
Abruptly, the footsteps ceased and she heard the click of a machine rifle being readied. Panic-stricken, her heart slammed into her throat. What if he'd heard her?
Waiting, she prayed for the footsteps to begin again.
Silence.
Cursing silently, she dove for the brush, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rise. A hail of bullets tore into the trunk of the tree where she'd just been standing.
Desperately slithering forward on her stomach, she crawled towards the guards position. Rolling, she levered off part of a clip in the direction of fire as the bullets rained closer.
Around her she could hear the crash of undergrowth underfoot. Twigs snapped; heavy leaves and vines slapped at her arms and face, their underside prickly in the heat. Stumbling, she ran for the clearing.
Then abruptly, it was all over as she staggered clumsily into the clearing to find Michael kneeling over the guerilla guard gun in hand.
"He's dead," he stated matter of factly, catching her as she halted beside them gun in hand.
Closing her eyes, she took a shuddering breath, feeling his fingers close around her arm. Lungs burning, she leaned against his shoulder gulping for air.
Pulling her towards him, he placed a comforting kiss on her cheek before releasing her.
Startled, her eyes flew open to gaze at him uncomprehendingly, but already the moment was gone as he turned away as if it had never happened.
Bending silently, he stooped to pick up the machine rifle and slung it over his shoulder even as he motioned for her to fall in behind him. Unthinkingly, she did so for once not asking questions.
Edging through the trees, Alex dogged Michael's heels. Hidden by the shadows, they crept closer to the insurgent's camp. As the buildings came into view between the leaves, Michael knelt and motioned her to do the same.
Grim-faced, he viewed the scene in front of him with the binoculars. "There," he whispered, at last, pointing. "See the guards? The only two possible places they could be keeping them are those two out buildings."
Reaching over, she took the binoculars, focusing in for herself. "Which one do you think?" she queried, shooting him a quick sidelong glance, before taking a second look.
"Hard to say," he answered, still eyeing the buildings in the camp with trepidation. "Unfortunately, we can't just wait and see, either." Sighing, he tightened his grip on the gun in his lap. "We'll go after the one on the left first. It's closer to cover."
Poised beside him, she nodded.
The sharp crack of a branch behind them, had him spinning gun in hand. AK-47 in hand, one of the insurgents faced him. "Now!" he yelled at Alex, letting loose a hail of bullets in their attacker's direction. The element of surprise was gone, their only hope now to get in and get out.
Rifle in hand, Michael charged out of the brush, covering their entrance. Scrambling, Alex followed, dodging bullets and ducking for cover.
Panting for breath, she slammed into the rough wood siding of the building. Machine gun fire tearing into the ground at her feet, sent her crouching in terror. Leveling the gun in her hand, she spun firing back - with a lot more precision.
Turning her attention back to the door of the shed, she yelled, "Back!" and leveled off another round of fire at the lock. Hardly pausing, she landed a sidekick at the door, slamming it open.
Forcing his way through the door, Michael faced the room gun in hand. Furtively glancing around, he groaned. "Nothing," he muttered in frustration.
"Come on!" he ordered, motioning with his rifle as he ran out. Sprinting, they made for a nearby jeep and ducked behind it. "Cover me," he grated, dashing for cover further on.
Grabbing up her own gun, Alex let off a shower of rifle fire. Even as she did so though, she saw Michael go down.
"Michael!" she screamed, even as he hit the ground. Crouching, she ran across the camp, layering down a round of rifle fire as she went. At a burst of gunfire behind her, she skidded to a stop and spun, returning fire as she did so. Gun clattering to the ground beside him, a guerilla soldier fell.
Lunging, she fell to the ground next to Michael. "You okay?" she cried, kneeling on one knee beside him, frantically searching for a pulse with one hand and casting around with the gun in the other.
A surprisingly strong grip clasped her wrist halting the motion in mid-air. Startled, she face him, staring into remarkable alert, pain-filled blue eyes.
"Run!" he croaked hoarsely.
"No!" she retorted. "I'm not going without you!"
"Can't …make it," he answered panting. "Get out now, while you still can."
In answer, she slung the rifle over her shoulder and grabbed him by the wrists, straining to drag both of them to cover. Staggering, she made it behind a nearby jeep, dragging him with her.
"Stop it, Alex!" he ordered, grabbing her arm and dragging her down beside him. "We don't have time for this. You have to get out now, if you're going to get out!"
"I won't leave you, Michael," she vowed, glaring at him. "So don't waste your breath."
Groaning in resignation, he struggled to roll to his knees. Biting back a moan, he got there, arms trembling with effort. "Well, help me up then," he rasped, " 'cause we're sure not getting anywhere like this."
Wrapping her arm around his waist, Michael struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on her. Blood trickled hot and sticky over his fingers where they clutched a wound in his side.
"Hurry up, hurry up!" she urged, pulling him on towards the last building. Together they stumbled up to it. Sidling up against the door facing, Alex peered into the grimy hole of a window beside it.
"Well?" he asked grimly, wondering if they were all going to die for naught.
She nodded, curtly in answer. "It's them."
"Back," he rasped, shoving her out of the way, knowing they were running out of time. He peppered the lock with rifle-fire, bullets thudding into the wood around it. The chain and lock dropped to the ground with a metallic clunk.
Bracing her shoulder against the door, Alex shoved with all her might. Guns in hand, the two of them ducked in.
Six people sitting on the dirt floor raised startled eyes to face them. A man, not quite as battered as the rest lifted his voice hopefully, "Americanos?"
"Yeah," she affirmed, jerking her head to the side she motioned them out. "Come on, come on!"
Staggering to their feet and milling dazedly towards the door, they straggled out. Bringing up the rear and pushing as she did so, Alex urged them faster. Ducking and crouching behind the jeeps and buildings, they ran for the tree line at a stumbling run. Behind them, a cry went up and the sound of gunfire echoed against their ears.
Dropping back to help cover their escape, Michael slumped against a battered truck letting off another volley of rifle-fire. "Run, Alex!" Run!" he yelled, frantically motioning the others on. "We've gotta keep going!"
She stumbled, hitting the dirt. Her fingers clenching around the rifle as she did so. Bullets slammed into the ground beside her, and she rolled whimpering, snatching up the gun.
Staggering back, Michael was beside her, gripping her arm, yanking her up. Desperately dodging bullets, sides aching, breath gasping they ran for the trees and cover. Ahead, a lobbed grenade struck a jeep even as they reached it.
It exploded with a boom, glass and metal shards flying everywhere in the air and slamming into the ground around them. Slammed to the ground by the explosion, Alex heard the agonized scream of one of the men they'd freed ahead of them. Scrambling to her feet, she yanked her gaze away, a quick glance convincing her there was nothing she could do for the man. Shoulder throbbing and heart pounding, she kept going.
"Stop!" a guerilla soldier ordered, his words harsh on her ears as he suddenly charged in front of her, blocking her escape. Sliding to a halt, she tried desperately to avoid him, only to find herself crashing to the ground.
"Michael!" she screamed, trying to writhe free. "Michael!" The only answer she heard was the thud of bullets slamming into the ground around them.
"Get out of here! Run!" Michael screamed, frantically urging the others on. Staggering and stumbling they scrambled through the trees and brush, ducking slapping branches and stinging vines. Covering their escape, Michael brought up the rear. Where the heck was Alex?
Limping down the trail after them, he ran for the helicopter. Ugly and battle scarred, the Huey was their only hope. Wrenching the cockpit door open, he grabbed a handhold and hauled himself up, hurriedly flicking switches and starting up the rotors.
"Come on, Alex," he muttered urgently. "Where are you?"
Breaking through the trees, the band of insurrectionists opened fire. The sound of bullets slammed all around them, ricocheting of the windshield and the metal around him. Flinching he ducked, powering the engines.
"Let's go!" one of the agents behind him yelled. "Come on, we've got to get out of here before they kill us all!"
Beside him, a bullet slammed into the seat beside Michael, burying itself there. Desperately, he pulled the helicopter aloft. With every passing second, it seemed the forces on the ground got heavier, his chance of finding her smaller.
His gaze searching frantically, the Huey hovered. Heavy artillery fire erupted from the ground, missing them by inches.
"Look out!" a voice behind Michael yelled, the tone panicked.
Desperately jerking back on the stick, he swerved hard. Instantly the helicopter swung hard left, barely avoiding being shot out of the sky by 50 caliber ammo. Wallowing, it hovered, ungainly but intact.
Swinging around, he pointed the helicopter back towards the camp. Sweeping over the trees beneath he hunted for Alex. Where could she be?
Flak erupted around him. An explosion ripped into the sky right in front of the helicopter. Struggling, he fought to keep the aircraft aloft.
"Come on, you've got to go. We've got to get out of here!" the man behind him cried, clutching his sleeve. "She's not coming!"
Spotting her running, Michael fought the helicopter, ignoring him. "Alex!" he cried, swinging the nose of the Huey back around. Even as he did though, he saw the soldier charge from the trees behind her.
Desperately, he yelled her name, knowing she'd never hear the warning in time. Swinging the butt of his rifle, the guerilla attacked. In horror he watched the butt of the AK-47 he held come crashing down on her shoulders from behind.
Turning at the last instant, she fought back, taking the full force of the blow across her upraised forearms. Kicking and punching, she struggled crumpling beneath the blows.
Beneath his hands, the helicopter lurched, faltering, dropping heavily. Suddenly fighting just to stay aloft, Michael struggled to regain altitude, the instruments going haywire.
"We've been hit! We're hit!" a voice yelled in his ear. Fighting the stick and the collective, he struggled to keep her in the air watching Alex fall beneath the guerilla's onslaught. "No!" he yelled in vain.
With a sinking heart, he watched the soldier bring his rifle up, pointing the barrel at her.
The helicopter swung away, limping towards the tree line. There was nothing more he could do.