WAR STORY

Iraq, Al Anbar province, Summer of 2006.

The wrecked Hummvee was lying upside-down on the edge of a dirt track that ran through the middle of a rocky valley. It had obviously been flipped over by a roadside bomb. Debris torn from the Hummer was scattered across the width of trail. It hadn't been that long since the bomb went off. Some dust and smoke from the explosion still hung in the air.

Keeping out of sight in a cluster of jagged rocks that straddled the crest of a barren hill, Domino used a pair of tiny binoculars to carefully scan the arid valley below. Seen from above, the wrecked Humvee looked tiny. The bomb crater was a perfect 'O', bisected by one side of the road.

The CIA was paying Dom a considerable amount of money to hunt down the group that was planting IEDs in the local roads. Her plan was to catch up to some of those guys and then do whatever it took to find whoever was giving them their orders. And a freshly bombed U.S. Army Hummer was a pretty good sign that Dom was getting close.

Lowering her binoculars, Dom frowned as she considered her options.

There was blood smeared on what was left of the Hummer's front passenger-side window. And for just a moment, via the back window, she thought she'd seen some movement inside the vehicle.

Dom shook her head in exasperation and ran a gloved hand through her short mop of dark hair. What the hell was a lone vehicle doing out here in the first place? It certainly wasn't SOP. A single vehicle was ridiculously vulnerable.

By all rights, Dom knew she should keep to the mission. Her best bet was to circle the area and try to pick up the trail of the bomb team. Of course, she'd radio in and report the Hummer. Hopefully, if someone was still alive in the Hummer, they wouldn't bleed to death before help arrived.

Hopefully.

Dom carefully scanned the valley one more time. There was no sign of anyone else in the area, but a pretty common trick was to have a sniper conceal himself near a wrecked vehicle and wait for any rescuers. And after several years of war, the Iraqi resistance had developed some pretty decent snipers.

Then a gust of dusty wind swept down the arid valley. For the briefest of moments, the wind stirred the suit of tan and brown rags that a gunman on the opposite hill was using to conceal himself.

Dom smiled grimly as she flicked her rifle's selector switch from safe to single shot.

The enemy sniper was now missing a sizable chunk of his head and Dom had rolled his body into a nearby ravine. The surviving GI Dom dragged out of the wrecked Hummer was in better shape than the sniper, but not by much. He'd lost a lot of blood and Dom was forced to delay doing first-aid until she got him back uphill and out of the valley. They were just too exposed if they stayed down near the Hummer.

There had been three U.S. Army soldiers in the Hummer. As near as Dom could tell, they were technicians of some sort. There were certainly a lot more tools than guns in the vehicle. The two men in the front seat were messily dead. They had taken the brunt of the bomb's blast. The guy in the back, who had been better shielded from the explosion, was the only one left alive.

By all rights, the survivor should be completely unconscious - hell, he should have been dead - but he kept flickering in and out of awareness. That was how it worked in a war. Nothing ever made any damned sense.

The GI had managed to give himself some rudimentary first-aid while he was lying in the back of the bombed-out Hummer. It was probably the only reason he was alive. He had used a ziptie to tie-off his right hand, and his belt was wrapped around the upper thigh of what was left of his right leg. Dom decided to let the belt stay since it seemed to be working. But the ziptie on the GI's wrist was leaking. Once they got back to her position on the far-side of the hill, she replaced it with a real tourniquet.

"Wha'?" the GI gasped as he flickered into consciousness. He was lanky, slightly built, and dark-haired, with sharpish facial features. Dom thought he might be Hispanic or Indian or Italian or something like that - it was tough to tell underneath the layers of dried blood, dirt, and machine oil that were smeared over his face.

And he looked young. Really young. Christ, Dom thought to herself with a sigh, am I just getting older or are they recruiting kids nowadays?

"You're fine," Dom lied smoothly. "You'll be okay." Of course, that depended on your definition of "okay". Assuming he lived, Dom was pretty sure the kid was going to lose the hand and the leg.

"Charlie? Ace?" the kid mumbled.

Dom hesitated again before answering, "They're fine."

A lot of survival was about attitude. There wasn't any point in upsetting the kid.

"Can't see..."

"You've got a couple of bad cuts on your face and there's dried blood in your eyes. I don't want to clean it off because you might start bleeding again."

"Who 'r you?"

Dom decided to simplify, "I'm with the CIA. I found your Hummer while I was on patrol. Help's on the way."

"Hurts..."

Cursing herself for not thinking to take care of that already, Dom began digging a morphine styrette out of her first-aid kit "What's your name, kid?" she asked distractedly.

"Th' guys call'm Forge."

Dom injected the kid with morphine and he faded back into unconsciousness.

Dom cursed and put down her radio. The medevac chopper had taken some ground-fire and been forced to turn back. The Marines had a platoon on the road, but it would take them an hour to get here. And that was assuming they didn't run into any resistance.

Dom had hiked out into the desert - she believed in keeping a low profile - so she didn't have a vehicle of her own. And carrying the kid out of the desert would almost certainly kill him. All of which meant they were stuck here until the jarheads showed up.

"Probl'm?" whispered the kid. He'd slid back into awareness again.

Dom sighed, "Help's coming, but they got slowed down."

"Charlie 'n Ace still 'kay?"

Dom glanced down at the wrecked Hummer, "Nothing's changed."

"Good..." the kid said softly as he faded out again.

"Hey," the kid said suddenly. He was conscious again.

Dom picked up her canteen and poured some water into a collapsible cup. She had to keep the kid hydrated.

"How bad m'I?" the kid asked.

Dom lifted his head and carefully poured the contents of the canteen cup into his mouth. He swallowed immediately.

"You're going to be okay," Dom said as she filled the cup again.

"Details?"

Dom hesitated. She was pretty sure the usual stuff wasn't going to work with this guy. He seemed to be pretty smart. And anyone less stubborn would have been long dead by now.

"A leg and a hand look pretty bad. You've lost a lot of blood, but the bleeding's under control, and I gave you some morphine for the pain. But help's on the way and if you hang tough you're going to make it - I'm not bullshitting you."

Incredibly, a slight smile came over the kid's face, "M' junk?"

It took Dom a second to figure out what he was asking. Then she shook her head in exasperation, "I swear, you men are all alike! Everything's just fine down there!"

The kid actually chuckled a little, "Tha's cool. What'cha doin' tonight?"

Dom couldn't help but laugh. Actually, the kid didn't come across as the type given to making cocky requests for a date. It must have been a combination of the morphine and the shock talking.

"Hey... how'r Charlie 'n Ace?"

The laughter died in Dom's throat.

"They're fine," Dom replied shortly.

Dom used the scope of her rifle to carefully scan the squad of men that were coming down the valley. They weren't in uniform so they definitely weren't Marines, but it was possible that they were friendly tribal irregulars.

The squad got to the wrecked Hummer and excitedly began to examine it. Then one man leaned down into the cab and sprayed the two bodies still inside with a short burst from his AK-47. He was just making sure.

As two men went on watch, the others began looting the vehicle.

Dom kept her rifle on the looters, but did nothing else. The last thing she wanted right now was a fight.

An older man stood aloof from the looting and scanned the hills lining the edge of the valley. He was frowning thoughtfully. It wasn't too hard for Dom to figure out what that was about. He was looking for the man they had left in the area. These guys had planted the bomb and then left the sniper behind. The sniper's job was to detonate the bomb when a vehicle strayed too close, pick off any survivors or rescuers, and then boogie before things got too hot.

The older man gave up on looking for his missing man, shook his head, and shouted an order in Arabic. The two men on guard-duty jumped in reaction and then began walking up the slopes of the valley so they would have a better view of the surrounding area.

And one of them was walking right up to Dom's position.

Dom cursed very softly. There wasn't time to simply grab the kid and run. Dom gritted her teeth in frustration and sighted her rifle on the insurgent. She didn't want this.

The scout kept walking uphill.

Dom's mouth was dry as her finger tightened on the trigger of her rifle. She really, really didn't want this. The odds were against her and she had a casualty who needed her help.

Now the scout was only a dozen yards downslope. If he stopped right there - which was actually the right thing to do since he shouldn't skyline himself - then it was possible that he wouldn't see them concealed in the rocks. But if he went right up to the crest of the hill, he'd be almost right on top of them.

Stop, Dom willed silently. She now had as clear a view of the scout as possible. If anything, he was even younger than the GI that Dom was guarding. The scout was maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. He was trying to grow a beard and was doing a bad job of it. The AK-47 he was carrying seemed way too big for him.

And he was still walking right towards them.

Stop, dammit! Dom willed.

And then the scout was standing on the crest of the hill. And he was looking right at Domino and blinking in surprise.

"Shhh!" Dom hissed urgently to him. Her rifle was pointed at his chest. If she could keep him from yelling a warning, she just might be able to keep the situation stable until the Marines showed up.

Then the scout opened his mouth to scream.

And then everything went to hell.

Dom's first shot killed the scout.

Her second shot killed the older man down by the Hummer who had been yelling the orders.

Her third shot killed the man who was carrying a light machine-gun - the insurgent squad's only support weapon. As the machine-gunner collapsed, his weapon flew out of his hands and landed in the road.

Her fourth shot clipped a guy who was diving for cover behind the Hummer. He collapsed onto the ground. Then he painfully crawled the last few feet to cover, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

Her fifth shot killed the other scout on the far slope as he - for some damn fool reason - tried to run back down to the Hummer instead of taking cover behind the far closer hilltop.

Her sixth shot killed an insurgent who tried to lunge out from behind the Hummer and grab the machine gun from where it lay in the middle of the dusty road.

Her seventh and eighth shots smashed the machine gun.

Then, just for a moment, things went eerily silent. The remaining insurgents were now huddled behind the cover of the Hummer, trying to figure out what had happened and what to do next. So Dom didn't have a target and neither did the insurgents.

The man Dom had wounded became to scream. To Dom's all-too practiced ear, it sounded like he was in pretty bad shape.

Dom took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from her eyes. Five of the enemy were definitely dead, another was badly wounded, and their squad support weapon was out of the fight. That meant she had six gunslingers with AK-47s and maybe a few grenades who were still a problem. They were pinned behind the Hummer for the moment, but surprise was no longer on her side.

"Wade, I wish you were here," Dom whispered as she replaced the magazine in her weapon with a fresh one.

Still, she could probably contain the situation until help arrived.

Piercing through the screams of the wounded insurgent, a high-pitched scratching sound came from behind the Hummer. Dom's eyes narrowed. She knew that noise. The insurgents had a radio and the operator had accidentally let out a squeal from it.

The insurgents were calling for help.

Suddenly, Dom's back felt very naked and exposed. Her position on the hilltop was a good one, but if she got attacked from two of more directions at once...

"Wade, I definitely wish you were here," Dom whispered more urgently.

The guys hiding behind the Hummer finally popped up and started firing back. Dom muttered a curse and tried to push herself deeper into the dirt as bullets whirled wildly over and around her position. Most of the shots were going high, but the insurgents were laying down a lot of fire and shooting back at them was a bit too iffy at the moment.

Dom considered her options. The smart thing to do - the professional and mercenary thing to do - was to leave the kid and get the heck out of there. Which wasn't going to happen. Dom didn't like leaving people behind.

"Wassup?" the kid asked hazily.

"Enemy squad," Dom reported automatically. "I got about half of them, but the rest are hiding behind your wrecked Hummer. And they're radioing for help. They've probably got a lousy radio with crappy range, so that means the guys they're calling aren't that far away. We're in trouble."

"Who' screamin'?" the kid asked.

"I gutshot one of them. He's not happy."

"Charlie 'n Ace 'kay?"

Dom closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them, "They're not a problem."

"The shooters... they're b'hind Hummer?"

"Yes."

"Gotta LAW or a grenade launcher?"

Dom shook her head, then realized the kid couldn't see her and said, "If I did, I'd have used 'em."

The kid feel silent. Then he spoke up again.

"Can you see the Hummer's gas cap?" the kid said clearly.

Dom hesitated. Yes, she could. But...

Then Dom sighed, "Look, kid, don't you watch 'Mythbusters'? It's not that easy to blow-up a gas tank with regular ammo. And I'm not carrying any tracers."

"'Mythbusters'! Gr't show! D'ya gotta signal flare?" the kid slurred - he was starting to fade out again.

Dom hesitated again. As a matter of fact, she did have a couple of red cluster flares in her pack. And the distance from her position to the Hummer looked like it just might be within range. However, she'd have to arc the flare onto the target and that would be pretty tricky.

But what the hell, she was pretty good at tricky.

Taking her time, Dom put a pair of careful shots into the Hummer's gas cap. The cap shattered, and since the vehicle was upside down, gasoline immediately began pouring out of the Hummer's gas tank.

As she dug the flare out of her pack, Dom glanced at the kid and said, "If this works, we'll go on that date. And I'll prove to you that everything south of your belt-buckle is still in working order."

The kid chuckled distantly and then fell silent. He was out again. Dom waited until there was a lull in the enemy fire as a bunch of them began reloading. Then Dom raised up a little higher than she wanted, held up the flare, quickly estimated the windage, and then slapped the end of the flare, which fired the flare's contents down-range.

Dom fell back to the ground and grabbed her rifle as a ball of red fire arced into the air and then - against all odds - fell into the wet pool of gasoline pooling around the near side of the Hummer. The gasoline exploded in a brilliant flash and the insurgents began frantically scrambling away from the vehicle. Several of them were on fire and screaming.

Dom quickly pulled the butt of her rifle into her shoulder and started firing.

What was left of the Hummer was still burning and sending out a huge, black plume of smoke when the Marines finally showed up. It occurred to Dom as she watched the ugly dark whirl of smoke that there wasn't going to be much left of Charlie and Ace to send back to their families.

"How 'bout our date?" the kid said quietly as they loaded him into a vehicle. A Navy Corpsman was carefully supervising.

Dom shook her head, "Sorry, but tonight won't work for me. So give me a call."

"S'good," the kid said. Then he paused for a moment before speaking again. "Charlie and Ace. Dead. Aren't they?"

Dom and the Corpsman exchanged looks. Then Dom rubbed her temples tiredly as she glanced again at the burning Humvee. Dammit, this kid would have to figure it out while she was still around. He was definitely a smart one.

"Yeah. They are. I'm sorry."

The kid's face distorted so hard that flakes of dried blood cracked loose from his face, almost allowing Dom to finally get a clear look at his face. But then he swallowed hard and nodded his head. Without the slightest clue as to why she would ever do such a thing, Dom leaned over and kissed him on his forehead.

The vehicle carrying the kid pulled onto the road and headed back towards the Marine base in a cloud of dust. It had a good-sized escort of heavily armed gunslingers. After it was out of sight, the rest of the Marines began deploying out of the valley. They were searching for the insurgent reinforcements. All of the Marines had lean, hungry, and pissed-off looks.

Dom gave them a hand. She got a nice bonus for that.

Iraq, Ninawa Province, Spring of 2007.

"For me?" Dom asked in surprise. She didn't get a lot of packages. And she never got unexpected ones.

The Special Forces Sergeant just smiled at her, "A guy at HQ asked me to deliver this to you. He said it's from somebody you know."

Dom examined the package. There wasn't any writing on it, but from the size and heft she could tell it was a weapon. Tearing off the brown paper wrapping, she revealed an utilitarian-looking rifle sheath. Unzipping it, she pulled out a rifle.

The Sergeant blinked in surprise. So did Dom. They both knew firearms very, very, well. And neither recognized this weapon.

"What the heck?" Dom asked rhetorically.

"It's look a little like an M-14..." the Sergeant said hesitantly.

"Yeah..." Dom replied just as hesitantly. "But some parts are from other weapons. This is a standard US military-issue accessories rail. And the grenade launcher attachment points are also US standard. But I think the stock has been converted from a Barrett."

"But what's with the two barrels and the double magazine wells?" the Sergeant asked curiously.

Dom opened the upper bolt and peered inside the receiver, "I... I think it can use both 5.56 and 7.62 ammo. You flip this lever next to the selector to switch the trigger mechanism back and forth between the two barrels and their separate magazines. That's handy."

"But it isn't that heavy!" the Sergeant said with a shake of his head. "What the hell is it made of?"

Dom flicked a fingernail against the lower barrel. It didn't sound quite like standard weapons-grade steel. She suspected it was some kind of fancy alloy. Then she pulled the rifle up to her shoulder, sighted on a distant hilltop, and dry-fired.

"It feels real tight," she said approvingly as she lowered the weapon. "You know - that feeling a new match-grade weapon has?"

The Sergeant now had a slightly hungry look on his face, "So where can I get one of those?"

Domino shrugged helplessly, "I don't know! I don't even know who sent this to me!"

"Hey, there's something else," the Sergeant said, then he reached back into the rifle sheath and pulled out a DVD box.

"Weird," he said thoughtfully as he handed the box to Dom. "Why would somebody send you all of the seasons of 'Mythbusters'?"