Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I'm borrowing her characters, dressing them up in MARPAT, and giving them some guns.
Unbeta'd, unedited.
July 5
Deathstalker Terrorist Compound Yard
Somewhere West-Central Somalia, Along the Ethiopian Border
"What do you think?"
Slowly peering around an old Humvee – a shit-armored relic likely dating back to that fiasco in '93 – Jared eyeballed the squad of militants fanning out fifty yards in front of them. He spat out a glob of tobacco. Twelve, if he counted correctly, and unlike that last band of rag-tag locals, this one had a handful of those European pros with scorpions sewn onto their sleeves.
"Probably ought to hit that fucker first," he said after a second, pointing to the skinny twenty-something on the far end and sporting an ancient, banged-up, olive drab RPG-7.
Behind a second Humvee to his right – this one marginally newer – Paul rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Well, no shit."
Sparing the other man a flat, almost bored look, Jared's wide shoulders rolled in a lazy shrug. "Captain asked."
Positioned between the two operators, Jacob's mouth flattened into a hard, straight line. "I swear to God, I'm taking a vacation after this shit." Fat droplets of sweat ran down his temples and dripped off his chin. "Somewhere nice for once, with a hot tub and women in bikinis."
Paul snorted, as he simultaneously slung his 416 behind his back and swapped to the bigger, belt-fed Mark 48 he always favored in heavy combat. "Dude, you said that the last time," he said, locking in the bottom-mounted belt box. "Yet here we are sweatin' our balls off in this fuckin' shithole."
"Whatever." Shaking his head, Jacob looked over the dented hood, mentally tagging the man in ragged camo and sporting that damned RPG. Wide-eyed and skittish, there was no telling what he'd do. "Alright, we don't have time to screw around. Scooby's almost at that helo, and fuck knows where Cullen is by now."
"Hopefully playin' kickball with Walker's skull."
"Jesus, Paul." Jacob eyed the Delta askance.
The man's brows climbed his broad forehead. "What? You sayin' you wouldn't be doin' the same if you were in Cullen's boots?" He made an ugly face. "That motherfucker touched my girl, I'd blow up the whole goddamned planet."
Across the way, Jared's lips twitched. "Assuming any woman would date your stupid ass."
"Hey, fu–"
"Enough," Jacob cut in. "We gotta get to that warehouse before this shitshow goes south." Reaching inside a front pouch, the captain pulled out a fresh magazine, popped it in, and chambered the round. "So, the second those fuckers hit the midpoint, we go." With a quick, curt nod over to his still, often disturbingly silent sergeant first class, he said, "Trick, you see if you can take down that asshole with the RPG. Paul, you take left. I'll throw smoke and go center. No one walks away. Got it?"
Not looking away from his target, Jared spat out another wad of goopy black and shouldered his carbine. "Yep."
One hundred yards to the east of his team, First Lieutenant Seth Clearwater dropped below a line of tall grass near one of the long office buildings. Belly-crawling to the edge, he watched a smattering of locals dart back and forth in front of the dove gray utility helo parked in the dead center of the compound yard. At the edge and directing traffic stood a solitary tall, pale soldier in flecktarn camo, wearing a modified Steyr and M203 grenade launcher.
"Tink," Seth whispered into his throat-mike.
"Go ahead, Scooby-doo." The words came out in hard punches, as though she were running.
"Al, you're going to fuckin' love this…" Seth stared through his scope at the side-firing mounted machine gun and the pair of undermount axial pods, each fitted with 19-tube cylindrical launchers. "Mounted 60-30. Twin FZ launchers. Bird's fuckin' loaded."
There was a second of pause and then the Marine nearly blasted his ear off. "Oo-fuckin'-rah!" There was a hard, fleshy smack somewhere in the background, and then Seth swore he heard the Marines' gunnery sergeant bellowing out something loud and angry. "Scoobs, I'm gonna kiss you."
Seth smothered a laugh in his sleeve. "Just need a little cover to get past 203, and then we'll light this bitch up."
"Jazz, Dee, Dum, you hear that?"
Cullen's crazy-good sniper snickered, even as the crack! of his M110 pierced the air. "Who didn't?"
Alice huffed, and there was another muted thwack in his earpiece. "You three do whatever it takes to get Scooby in the air. I want fucking air support!"
The three men answered in unison. "Yes, ma'am."
From somewhere to the west, came the sudden, familiar, fast repeating rat-tat-tat! of Paul's heavier Mark 48, followed by a barrage of lighter, higher-pitched rounds that Seth knew in his sleep. Strobes of light flashed behind one of the buildings, and smoke swirled up from the ground, turning the dark sky an eerie, foggy gray.
There was another volley from either Jared or Jake, and then a man yelled out in agony. More men yelled, both in the background and in his earpiece, before a high, whining hiss screamed through the air. A split-second later, the resounding boom! of an RPG echoed somewhere high above the compound walls.
"Wolf, this is Tinkerbell," Alice ground out. "What the fuck just happened?"
"Just a little extra surprise from one of those scorpion fuckers," Jake came back, as pissed off as Seth had ever heard the man. "Taken care of."
Alice swore, but then immediately growled into her mike. "Lahav, you got anyone close to that bird that can man a flyin' SAW?"
"Kamuvan, Tinkerbell." Completely at odds with the chaos of their surroundings, the major's low baritone was as smooth as silk. He muffled his mike and issued a curt triplet of orders in Hebrew to his soldiers. "I'm on my way, ETA six and zero," he said, before abruptly barking out a near-gleeful laugh. "Scooby-doo, don't you dare start the fun without me."
July 5
Underneath the Deathstalker Terrorist Compound
Somewhere West-Central Somalia, Along the Ethiopian Border
"Where is she?"
When the man didn't answer, as soon as they hit the bottom of the long, narrow, rock-hewn stairway, Edward shoved him into the closest perpendicular corridor. Not removing the knife still wedged between his bloody lips, he spun the soldier around and slammed him against the concrete wall.
"I don't have time for this. Where is she?"
When Spetsnaz went to speak, blood poured down his chin. "Dead."
Even though he knew it was a lie, Edward's entire being vibrated with ice-cold rage. The knife in his fist trembled, and his voice cracked like a whip. "One last time, tell me where Dr. Swan is being kept."
Spetsnaz smiled a gruesome, malicious smile that split his flesh. "Should have seen what Walker did to her. The way she screamed for yo–"
The words ended in a sickening, wet gurgle as the tip of Edward's knife vanished from his mouth, only to slide through the cartilage of Spetsnaz's trachea, just missing the jugular and carotid on either side. The soldier's eyes popped wide as saucers. Dark red veins threaded through the whites. His already-pale skin blanched cadaver gray, and everything below his neck spasmed as the first trail of viscous liquid hit his lungs. Frantic, Spetsnaz scrabbled at the blade embedded in his throat, but Edward might as well have been a solid wall.
Flat, cold, and as tranquil as a high mountain lake, Edward whispered, "I'll leave you like this and let you drown, or I can end it now." He twisted his wrist a quarter turn, widening the wound, and then with a surgeon's precision, he pushed the blade in deeper, exiting the backside of the trachea and just nicking the esophagus behind it. "Your choice. Blink once if you want this to end."
Cold sweat beaded on the man's forehead and his eyes went glassy. The pungent stench of ammonia scented the air as his bladder released, and for a long moment, the only sound was that of the wet wheezing of Spetsnaz's lungs. Finally, he blinked.
"Alright," Edward said, easing the pressure. "Down another level?"
Spetsnaz blinked twice.
Edward glanced back toward the main corridor, where the dim light at the bottom of the stairs creeped in and cast dark shadows in the narrow space. "Is she on this level?"
The soldier caught himself just before nodding and gave Edward a long blink.
"Left at the stairs?"
He blinked twice.
In Edward's earpiece, there was a loud, resounding boom! that echoed through the rock above them. The ceiling overhead shook and rained down sand and debris. A beat later, he could just make out the squawk of Alice yelling something, but down so deep and surrounded by so much limestone, the transmission was shot. At a second ear-splitting shriek of static, he yanked the earpiece out and crammed it into a pouch. "How far in meters? Fifty?"
Spetsnaz eyed the crumbling ceiling and gave him two fast blinks.
"One hundred?"
Two more quick blinks.
"More?"
At the rough command in Edward's voice, Spetsnaz's eyes shot back to Edward's. He made one last, half-hearted scrabble for the knife, but then licked his bloody lips. Resigned and fading from blood loss, his lids slid shut in a single long, slow blink, and then Spetsnaz's lips moved in a wet, rasping whisper. "West side. She's directly under… missiles."
Without another word, Edward's wrist flicked, cutting through Spetsnaz's jugular in a single, long slice and spraying the wall beside him in a fan of crimson. As the man crumpled, Edward caught the body on reflex and taking only a handful of seconds, he silently dragged him deeper into the dark.
A blink later and Edward was moving, carbine shouldered and in the lead as he silently raced through the warren of hazily lit corridors and passageways that led away from the lab overhead toward the vast warehouse on the other side of the northern section of the compound. As quickly as he could risk it, he darted from one tight corridor to another, creeping around each corner and edge and ducking into pitch-black rooms and alleyways each time he caught the murmur of voices.
"Right or left," he whispered, tucked deep into a shadow at the intersection of two wider corridors. Squinting at the concrete floor, he noted the worn pattern and faint crisscrossing bootprints in the dust. On the second pass, his eyes picked out a different pattern. Flat and smooth, these were nothing like the grippy lug soles of combat boots. No, these prints belonged in a boardroom or on a college campus. "Hello, Aro."
Slowly, trailing those flat, smooth prints, Edward slipped into the righthand passageway. Fifty yards in, he caught the barest hint of men's voices, echoing and bouncing off the long, rock halls. Plastering himself against the wall, he creeped down the corridor until he finally approached yet another intersection in the underground maze.
Snaking around the corner, Edward glimpsed the backs of a pair of militants as they sped down a wider path and disappeared around the bend.
Well-traveled and absent the layer of fine dust, the hallway here was wider and better lit. The exhaust from the diesel generators smelled stronger here, too, propelled by the eddying currents from an overhead ventilation system. And unlike the narrow, solid rock tunnels and corridors spanning the compound, rows of doors lined each side, each one heavy, industrial grade steel with square panes of metal-mesh security glass in their centers.
Edward peeked down at his wrist.
Ten minutes.
That's how long it'd taken him from the time he left Spetsnaz. Enough time to cover the necessary distance. And judging by the slight grade and the rising limestone ceiling above, he had to be close.
Silently, he slipped out into the corridor, targeting the first door on the left.
Dark and empty, the small cinderblock room was nothing more than storage. Half-filled shelves covered one wall and flipped over boxes with Arabic lettering littered the floor.
The second room was emptier than the first. A plain wooden desk sat in the corner. An old beige camping cot leaned against the opposite wall.
Three more rooms, one stacked high with cloudy, opaque drums.
As he approached the last room at the very end, dull fluorescent light seeped out from under the door and lit the small glass window. Slowly, Edward inched his way to the edge of the door, listening for any hint of motion from within.
Hearing nothing inside – not even a whisper of sound – he leaned toward the small window, peering around the frame.
Edward froze.
Back pressed against the blood-stained wall behind her, Bella's head jerked up as yet another explosion lit off in the compound above. Overhead, the bulbs flickered, and tiny bits of sand pelted her shoulders and caught in her hair. Eying the high, roughed-out ceiling, she crossed her fingers, waiting for the moment those cracks would finally give way.
The lights flickered again, and this time, something moved in her periphery, a hint of a shifting shadow through the security window that made Bella's lungs still in instant dread. The air electrified, raising the fine hair on the back of her neck, and her pulse hammered a jagged rhythm through her veins. Without conscious direction, she hugged her damaged hand to her chest, while her lips muttered an incomprehensible prayer.
There was another flash of movement.
A beat later, an all-too-familiar face – one she'd recognize no matter how much warpaint covered it – filled that pane of glass, and instantly, every single muscle in her body unlocked.
Time slowed and then sped, and a hard, wracking shudder rippled down Bella's spine. Her palm clapped over her mouth, stifling the sound that spilled out, and salt stung her eyes, swollen and sore, as the reality of this single moment crashed down around her. As Edward stared back at her with emerald fire, something warm and wet slid down Bella's cheek.
Slowly, his finger rose to his lips, signaling Bella to stay silent.
Wasting no time, after a quick, furtive glance in each direction, Edward plucked a slim, opaque vial from his hip pocket, along with its matching glass eyedropper. With a quick twist of the cap, he tilted the vial toward the lock and slowly, carefully, shot a full column of the highly – highly – corrosive experimental fluid directly into the keyhole. Impatient, not willing to wait like Jazz had warned him to do, he squirted a second column into the lock. Gray-black liquid boiled out of the keyhole and dripped to the floor with a hiss.
A few long seconds later, just as a thick tendril of pungent vapor swirled out of the lock, Edward jiggled the now-hot knob and then turned it with a metallic crunch.
As soon as he slid into the room and swung the door shut, a body slammed into his chest, knocking him back, and a pair of slender arms locked around his waist.
Without thinking, finally breathing as that godawful fist in his chest relented, Edward lifted Bella off her feet, yanked her over to the closest corner, out of the sight of the window, and wrapped himself around her slight, trembling frame. Her too-pretty, too-fine face – now beaten and bloodied and making him wish he could kill Spetsnaz all over again – tilted up into the crook of his neck. Incapable of stopping himself, his lips found her hair, her forehead, the purple-gray line of her jaw – anywhere he could reach and reassure himself that she was alive and real.
"You're here... You came for me," Bella whispered against his skin.
For the first time in two long days, Bella sucked in a deep chestful of air. It tasted like sweat and dust and hot gunpowder, and when she inhaled a second shaky breath, there was no mistaking the metallic tang of blood – his or hers or someone else's, she didn't know. But underneath all that, she could smell him – real or imagined – that same so-subtle hint of masculine aftershave that she would never, ever associate with anyone but him.
Every single part of her reacted to that assurance, and the responding potent blend of relief and fear and anger and joy made her knees go weak. This time, instead of fighting it, Bella sank into him, and without realizing it, her eyes squeezed shut as her lips found the base of his throat, and her arms crushed him even harder, never mind the sharp edges of the rifle caught between them.
"I'll always find you," Edward whispered back, dragging his mouth along the shell of her ear as her fingers wound into the fabric of his flight suit, as if daring him to let go. "I will always come after you."
Full, supple lips pressed against the base of Edward's throat again and again, making that fist in his chest squeeze. Tucked so tightly against him, Bella's shoulders shook, and something hot and wet ran down his neck and beneath his collar. On instinct, his arms tightened around her, but then he pulled away, just a little, just enough to frame her bruised face in his calloused palms. His thumbs gently swiped away the translucent tracks of wetness as he stared into her dark eyes, speaking all the words his mouth couldn't seem to say.
Eyes never leaving his, never mind where they were and the time she knew they didn't have, Bella lifted on her toes and dragged her arms up to his neck. Winding her fingers in the sweat-wet hair sticking out from the back of his Kevlar, she tugged.
That little tug was all it took, and before he could stop himself, before his brain could process what he was doing, Edward's mouth was on hers.
Softly, gently, he kissed her, brushing and tasting her lips over and over and over, afraid of hurting her more, but at the same time driven by an urgency bordering on desperation that he hadn't realized could exist. With each touch of her lips, each hot, wet stroke of her tongue, and with each sure, strong beat of her heart echoing from her chest into his, a little bit of the warmth that had vanished the second she'd been taken began to return. For just a moment, just a second, he allowed himself to drown in it.
A blast rocked the room and shocked him back to the present.
High above, the deep, resounding concussion of larger explosives lit off. Another boom quickly followed, this one even closer and strong enough to shake the walls. Showers sand and debris rained down, popping against the concrete.
With a low swear and a hard, internal shake, Edward's eyes shot to the door as he listened for any signs of life out in the corridors. But like before, the only sound that greeted him was the low, steady reverberation of the generators and the distant repeating gunfire muffled by the solid rock surrounding them.
Still not quite willing to let her go just yet, always listening and scanning, Edward leaned back and quickly began cataloging Bella's wounds.
"Okay, we can't stay. We're going to need to move fast," he said, lightly turning her jaw to the left and then to the right, noting every single bruise and abrasion. When his fingers skimmed up to the cuts along her cheekbones and brow, Bella winced, but when he took her left hand in his, gently flipping it over to inspect her makeshift bandage, she blanched ash white.
Fury licked across Edward's features, but the gentleness of his grip didn't waver. "Are you good to move?"
"It's fine. Just a little banged up," Bella said in a rush, shaking her head as if it'd make it all go away. Pulling in a slow, steady breath, she stared up at him, watching the deep lines of stress and anger grow ever sharper. A small, out of place smile teased her lips. "Minor, Captain."
Edward blinked, instantly recalling the moment he'd said the same to her. And when that small smile of hers turned into what he could only call a mischievous grin, completely at odds with the hellhole they were in, one corner of his mouth pulled up in response.
"More importantly," she went on, eyes glinting bright as she reached down to pat the cargo pocket at her knee and then pointed to the shards of plastic littering the floor. "I have Aro's hard drive."
A quiet chuff of a laugh – some cross between humor and aggravation – spilled out and Edward wiped his face, smearing the tacky streaks of black and gray. "Of course, you do."
Still smiling at herself, Bella peeked around Edward's shoulder. "Where is everyone?"
"Up top. Just like we planned." He grimaced. "Al's playing quarterback."
Bella's spine went ramrod straight. "You came down here… alone?" At the end, her voice, still barely above a whisper, rose in pitch, and her brows slammed down into a deep, incredulous V. "How did you… how did you find me?"
Some of the fire went out of Edward's eyes, leaving them almost flat – just like those weeks ago, when he'd emerged from that bunker in the Iranian mountains, alone and stained with Colonel Laurent's blood. So quietly she almost missed it, he said, "You don't want to know… And I don't want to tell you." With a clipped nod, Edward thumbed toward the door. "But now we're getting the fuck out of here."
Bella's gaze lapped the room and a shiver danced across her skin. "Did you see Aro… or Walker?"
That fire roared back, violent and instantaneous, but Edward just gritted his teeth and shook his head. "Not Aro." The stern, hard line of Edward's jaw rolled. "Do you know where he went?"
"Down." With a hard swallow, Bella nodded, and her words came out in a torrent, pulsing with something akin to panic. Abruptly, she stepped away but then spun back toward him. "Edward… we didn't know half of what they're doing here."
"What do you mean?"
"It's not just Scuds." The words poured out even faster, and like a caged creature, she paced back and forth across the concrete. "They have ICBMs, modified Topols... I saw them." When she stopped, Bella's cheeks puffed out, and her right arm swung in a nervous wave. "They can reach the eastern seaboard from here."
Edward's blood turned to ice. "Where?"
"There's another entire level below this one." In nervous agitation, Bella chewed her thumbnail, frowning when it tore at the edge. "It's a huge cavern with tunnels that lead out somewhere past the compound walls into the mountains. I have no idea where it comes out. I just saw the tunnels. And those fucking scorpion banners."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm positive." Bella took a deep breath, willing her heartrate to slow. "They're not at full range yet – that's why Aro wanted me." Mentally running through dozens of equations and arrays, she paused. "But they're functional enough. If they were to light them off… using what they developed for the Scuds, they could make it to Europe… right now."
"Jesus Christ." Edward scrubbed his face. "Langley has no fucking idea."
Bella's palm pressed against the hard, flexing muscle of Edward's forearm, and when his gaze found hers, steel rose in those depths. "That's where Aro is heading, I know it. Victoria is with him." Her grip tightened, five points of warmth spasming around the fabric of his suit. "He's going to escape with those missiles."
Edward yanked his earpiece out of his pouch and tapped his throat mike. "Tink, come in."
Nothing, but white noise answered him.
"Tinkerbell, this is Ghost," he repeated, eying the door. "Do you copy?"
There was a weak squawk and a handful of garbled syllables, but then only more static.
The slim, black sat phone he always carried wasn't any better. Just like the radio, absolutely nothing pierced the thick slabs of beige-gray limestone above them.
Slowly, hesitantly, Bella unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt and picked out the little black disc El'azar had given her way back in the Negev. "Do you think this works?" Her throat bobbed. "I hit it when I heard one of the big explosions. Maybe thirty minutes ago."
Beneath his Kevlar, Edward's brows climbed to his hairline. "Maybe… The beacon should be stronger than the radio signal. Should be on a different frequency." He took the locator when she offered it and flipped it between his thumb and forefinger. Quietly, watching for all the subtle hints and tells in her expression, he asked, "If you had this all this time, why didn't you use it before?"
Almost sheepish – something Edward hadn't expected… at all – Bella just shrugged. "I wanted to find out what Aro was doing and I knew you'd come anyway." Her dark eyes dropped to the floor. "And I didn't want to mess up the plan… even more."
A muscle in Edward's cheek ticked, and for a split second, he wanted to shake the woman… and then kiss her until she was as stupid as she made him. "You didn't mess up anything," he replied, trailing his thumb along her chin. "If anyone screwed up, it was me." That same thumb ran across her bottom lip, wiping away the dark grease paint his had left behind. "I never should have let you out of my sight, not for a single second."
"If I hadn't go–"
"Later." One hand sliced the air. "We'll argue about it later."
"Can we do it in bed?"
A harsh laugh tumbled out of Edward's mouth. Pulling her close one last time, Edward edged his fingertips under her shirt, walking along the subtle ridges of her backbone, and he kissed the soft skin at her temple. "Anytime, Dr. Swan. Like I told you, yours or mine… repeatedly."
There was a long pause before Bella finally nodded, obviously not at all ready to concede defeat, but willing to let it go for now. "Edward, we have to go after Aro."
Edward muttered another low curse, but he knew as well as any that she was right. They couldn't let Aro get away with those missiles, not when the stakes were so high. So, without another word, he unclipped his Kevlar and began shucking his armor.
"What are yo-"
"Don't. Non-negotiable." Careful not to jostle the hand she had wrapped and held tight against her stomach, Edward dropped his vest over her head and helped her pull her arms through. "You will stay behind me at all times." With the quick efficiency of a man who lived in his armor, he cinched the straps, tightening the vest and repositioning the plates to fit her much narrower frame. "I mean it, Bella. You stay behind me and do exactly what I say, no matter what," he went on, simultaneously placing his helmet on her head and pushing back the long flyaway ribbons of hair. "We clear?"
Before she could reply, Edward plucked his sidearm from his thigh holster, clipped on the laser line, and placed it in her hand, gently curling her fingers around the grip. "You think you can shoot?"
Bella's throat bobbed. "Yeah, my right is fine."
Edward's hand froze around hers.
"I told you, it's fine… Especially if Emmett gives me a little morphine later."
When Edward didn't react to that last bit of play, instead stiffening even more, Bella reached up to the back of his neck, yanked him down, and mashed her lips to his, hard and fast. This time, placing his sidearm under her arm, her fingers found his chin, forcing him to look at her.
"Yes, it hurt like a motherfucker, and yes, I was, and am, absolutely petrified of Walker – that man is insane, by the way – but… I'll be okay. There's no wounds that won't heal." Dropping his chin, her palm skated down the strong, rock-hard planes and valleys of his chest, pausing unerringly over the long, jagged scar that crossed his entire torso. "It wasn't anything like what you went through."
"Irrelevant." Edward's mouth hardened because it was.
Two days or two months, torture and terror had claws and knives all their own, and the physical damage was just the surface. He knew as well as anyone that no one came out unscathed, and there was never any point comparing one against the other.
"Like I said," he replied, already shouldering his carbine. "We'll talk about this later… I promise you that." That stern, no-nonsense expression turned dark and predatorial. "After we take Aro out and secure those missiles."
For what felt like the first time in days, Bella's lips stretched into a wide, genuine, toothy smile that she felt down in her bones. "Yes, sir."
Five minutes later, Edward stared down his barrel at a long, dimly lit passageway. Cramped and claustrophobic, this one was rougher than the rest, angled down, cut by hand, and illuminated by a smattering of low-wattage, bare bulbs strung haphazardly along the rocky walls. At the end, the arched mouth of a doorway yawned wide and dark.
"This it?" he whispered, reaching back to tap Bella on the wrist.
Low and hugging tight against the wall, Bella eased up closer. "I think so. All these hallways look the same, and we took so many turns," she whispered back. "But I remember now tight it was and how it sloped down right before that last set of stairs."
"Alright." He stopped again at the half-way point, sweeping the path in front and behind them for any indication of movement or life. "What's rule number one?"
"No unsupervised pissing…" Bella's nose scrunched. "No wait, that's rule number two."
Edward glanced over his shoulder and threw her a quick grin. "I'm serious, you stay behind me." He gestured at the desert-colored sidearm she held like a pro. "And shoot anything that comes at you. No hesitating."
"Got it."
While Bella's voice was solid, Edward didn't miss the beads of stress-induced sweat that dotted her forehead and ran down her temples. Nor did he miss the way her bottom lip folded tight and pale under her teeth. "You're going to be just fine."
"I know." She looked up with witch-bright irises, piercing in their intensity. "You're here."
Something warm and tender crawled through Edward's veins. "Let's move."
In unison, crouched low and quick, they covered those last few yards to the mouth of the stairwell. Right at the opening, Edward halted. Aiming his weapon toward the stairs, he held up a single fist. "One," he mouthed silently, motioning for Bella to position herself against the wall beside the door where she'd remain unseen. As soon as she was there, tight against the corner, he slid to the opposite side and waited.
Bella's stomach somersaulted, and for what felt like a short forever, her lungs ceased working.
All the warning she had was the shush of fabric and the soft creak of Kevlar. And then came a quick flash of camouflage and the dark metallic glint of a rifle.
Right as the soldier cleared the threshold, faster than she thought humanly possible, Edward grabbed him and clamped a single gloved hand over the man's mouth. The captain's elbow threaded around his throat in an ironclad rear choke. Instead of squeezing, he jerked upward and in a single whiplike motion, he wrenched the man's neck hard and to the left, instantly snapping his spine.
Silence, not a single syllable left the man's mouth before he slumped. Wordlessly, Edward caught him by the armpits and eased him down to the floor by the wall.
Wide-eyed and pulse hammering, Bella whispered a soft, "Holy shit."
The captain wore an unnameable expression. "You weren't supposed to see this shit, at least not this close."
"Don't you ever apologize for being good at what you do." Bella reached across the space between them and ghosted her fingers down his side. One brow cocked, climbing past the edge of her helmet. "I mean, I'm the one who came up with the face-melting weapon that got us here, so… there's that."
Edward just shook his head. "Come on, then. Let's end this."
Following the captain's lead and mimicking his low crouch, Bella slid into the narrow stairwell, hugging the wall like her life depended on it. Surrounded by dark, rocky walls, it was quiet, so quiet that the soft pad of her boots sounded deafening. Like every other time they'd played this particular game, Bella's knees turned to jelly, and each cautious step deeper into the belly of the cavern and closer to their targets felt like she was wading through concrete.
Nearly at the bottom, where the rough, uneven stairs curved to the left, Edward slowed to a crawl, listening to the hum of voices.
"Where is he?" Aronović's voice rose in nervous agitation. "And where is Dr. Swan?"
The voice that answered him was low, lilting, and feminine, and the familiarity of it made Bella's grip tighten around her sidearm. "Patience, Doctor. James will be here shortly, along with your precious scientist."
"You're both fools! This is a fucking disaster! We can't afford to lose these, not now… not when I'm so close." Aro growled out something low and heavy on the consonants. Cutting in and out, distorted by the rock, he barked an angry order to one of the soldiers. "Idi, pripremi vozila. Odlazimo sada!"
Aro snarled something else, but it was lost as one of the large 16-wheeled APU launchers roared to life.
Hidden in the shadows, Edward peered into the cavern, taking in the frozen tableau. Just like Bella had described, the space was massive, a natural cave carved out of the limestone plateau by ancient aquifers and subterranean streams. Dark, wide tunnels cut into the sides, and in the very center sat a pair of olive drab long-range intercontinental missiles. A handful of European mercenaries – each one well trained and deadly – milled around the launchers, watching and waiting for the order to move out.
Sliding back, Edward tapped Bella on the wrist again. "I want you to stay down, as low as possible," he said, so softly she barely could hear. "There's a row of steel storage lockers on the left, right as you go in. As soon as I enter, you come in behind me and you go straight for those lockers." He plucked two magazines from the webbed front pouches of Bella's vest and slid them into the front pockets of his flight suit.
A shiver skated down Bella's spine. "How many?"
"Seven, counting Aro and the red head. I've got to take those soldiers out first, and then I'll go after Victoria and Aro."
"Can yo–" She stopped herself with a hard shake. Shoving her sidearm under her arm once more, she wiped her wet, clammy palm on her pants. "What can I do to help?"
"Stay down, stay calm." Over his shoulder, his eyes met hers, grim and determined. "And no matter what you have to do, stay alive."
As Edward eased up to the edge again and marked each soldier with the kind of cool, detached preternatural calm that gave him his callsign so many years ago. His heart rate slowed to a sure, steady drum.
One – a thirty-something blond with a broken nose – slouched in the driver's seat of the nearest APU. Two – both dark headed and with gray hollows around their eyes – prowled just outside the vehicle, German-made rifles in a low ready. Two more stood in the dead center, stock still and bearing the brunt of the lean sixty-something professor's latest tirade.
At Aro's elbow, the red head drifted, alert and wearing a kind of professional ease and composure that made it clear that despite the team of mercenaries around them, she was the most dangerous creature in that cavern. No armor, no rifle, just the clean lines of a single matte black Glock sitting on her hip.
"Go on three. Ready?"
Chewing the inside of her cheek, Bella sucked in a quick, choppy breath. Unlike the captain's, her pulse rate doubled, and as she stepped closer toward him and to that entry, her stomach plummeted in another nauseating somersault.
"One…Two…" With a quick flick of the switch, a thin neon green line shot out from his laser, slashing left to right and eating up the shadows. "Go!"
Before the last word was out of his mouth, Edward was already moving. Low and fast, he dove through the entry into the open expanse of the cavern. Immediately whipping to the right, his laser line pinpointed the closest militant – one of the two dark-haired men by the APU – and he fired a quick, triplet of shots right at his chest. The first and second hit armor, knocking the man back and sending his rifle flying, but the third round punched into his chest with a wet spray, and he went down in a wild flail of limbs.
Absolute chaos erupted in the cavern.
Crawling in behind the captain – keeping as low as she could, just like he'd commanded – Bella threw herself behind the steel lockers on the left side of the entry, right as the he fired his first volley of shots. A barrage of deafening gunfire answered back, hot on their heels. Bullets zinged overhead, strafing the steel support columns, and popped into the rock above her head, biting off chunks of limestone.
Scrambling over to the far locker, Bella peered around the corner, just in time to watch the captain spin right, running at full tilt toward the APU and the center of the cavern. Without breaking stride, his laser line flew sideways, unerringly finding its target, and then another pair of rounds slammed into the second soldier by the APU. Letting out a garbled scream, the man fired off a single answering shot, but it went wide as his legs collapsed out from under him.
"Two down," Edward muttered as he twisted to the left and then right, ducking in behind an steel column in a quick, agile move that would have made his sprite-like pilot green with envy. Without wasting a moment, he reversed around to the other side of the column, simultaneously taking aim at the red head, who was shoving Aro out of his sight line and behind the closest APU.
He fired once, then a second time. The first round hit the woman's shoulder in a bloody spray; the other blasted into rock as she dropped behind a long row of wooden crates.
With an angry curse, Edward pivoted, targeting the other pair of militants. The third soldier went down in a hail of gunfire, right as he scrambled toward the back side of the APU. The fourth didn't move and instead stood his ground and took direct aim at the Marine barreling straight toward him.
Twenty yards from the soldier, Edward abruptly cut left, dodging out of the line of fire he knew was coming. When the soldier followed, he feinted again, this time right, still racing toward the man as quickly as he could go. Closing in, at six feet from his target and too close to fire, Edward flipped his M4A1 around and without slowing a bit, he rammed the heel of the buttstock into the soldier's face. Stunned by the blow, the man's head flew back and blood poured down his face, right as Edward's boot took out the man's kneecap. His knee gave way and he crumpled to the concrete, blindly striking and managing little more than a glancing blow to Edward's ribs. Without hesitating, Edward flipped his carbine back around and fired into the man's back, point-blank.
At the edge of Edward's periphery, he caught the driver of the APU slinking out of the cabin. As soon as the door swung wide, Edward's laser line shot across the space, and a final crack! rang out in the cavern. The driver tumbled out of the vehicle headfirst and smacked against the floor, dead on contact.
"That's five," Edward said, chest heaving, as he slowly creeped around the APU, searching for the red head and Aro. Sweat poured down his neck, sluicing through the grease paint and soaking the back of his flight suit.
"Come on, where are you, Vicky?" he whispered, scanning the cavern as he swapped to a fresh magazine. As he chambered the round, one corner of his mouth curled up. "Let's play."
The cavern went silent.
At the front wheel-well of the APU, Edward paused and threw the switch on his laser to douse the giveaway light. Reaching into the thigh pocket above his knee, he quietly extracted a six-inch gray-green cylinder, tugged the pull ring out with his teeth, and then bowled it underneath the APU and across the cavern floor back toward the entry where he could just see a sliver of Bella's shoulder where she peeked out from around last locker, doing exactly what he'd told her to do.
Gray-white smoke hissed out of the small cannister, twirling and spreading across the floor before rising toward the limestone spikes above. He repeated the action with a second cannister, tossing this one in the opposite direction. Within seconds, the entire cavern filled with opaque smoke, so thick Edward could barely make out the shape of the other APU nearby.
Stunned at both the carnage and the utter efficiency of the man who delivered it, Bella watched smoke roll out of the pair of small green cans and fill the room with alarming speed. Within seconds, the long, floor to ceiling red and black banners at the far end completely disappeared, and everything else went hazy and dark. Deep in the fog, she thought she caught the outline of the captain, but he was little more than a shadow, silently flitting out from behind the APU to the wall on her left.
A soft scuff came from somewhere to her right, maybe fifty yards away, just enough that Bella's right arm lifted of its own volition, instinctively training her weapon at a second distant dark shadow hidden and creeping through the smoke. Her gaze darted back to where she'd last seen Edward, but he was gone, lost in another curl of fog.
Tight against the righthand wall and moving fast, Edward stared into the smoke as it billowed throughout the cavern, watching for the shifts in the eddying currents that would give his target away. He'd picked the red head up across the cavern and against the opposite wall the moment he'd left the cover of the APU and he knew exactly where she was going.
Edward just had to get to her first.
A shot rang out – the Glock's lighter round 9mm by the sound of it – and the rock right where he'd been shattered, blowing out a cloud of pale beige dust and gravel. Another zipped by his head, biting into the wall.
"I see you, Marine!" she called out.
Edward wasn't about to fall for that bait. Instead, he kept moving, silently and steadily toward the row of lockers where his scientist waited.
Twenty-five yards from the locker, she fired again, and this time Edward returned, sending out a steady rat-tat-tat! across the cavern to cover his sprint those last few yards.
As he rounded the corner of the far locker, time slowed.
Right as Bella's slim outline came into view, where she crouched behind the locker, sidearm up and ready, the fiery female soldier stalked out of the fog on the opposite side. Just like Edward had warned her to do, Bella fired at the other woman. But like her mercenary partner, Victoria was fast like a demon. Already anticipating the shot, she ducked behind another locker, and Bella's bullet pinged off steel.
There was a swirl of fog, this one perpendicular to the row of lockers, and out of it, Aro appeared like a gray specter. Blood trailed down the scarred side of his face from a deep cut above his eye.
Shaking and livid, Aro aimed a compact semi-auto straight for the scientist who didn't even see him. And then Victoria stepped out from behind the locker.
"Get down!" Edward yelled, whipping left, right as Aro's finger curled around his trigger.
Edward fired a single shot, trusting its path to stay true. The bullet screamed across the space, nailing the man right in the throat and dropping him instantly.
But Edward didn't wait – didn't even notice.
Bella's sidearm went off again, firing at the tall red head coming straight for her. Distracted by Aro's appearance, the shot went wide, just grazing the other woman in the bicep
Without thinking, with every bit of remaining energy he had left, Edward launched himself across those few remaining feet, right as Victoria fired back. At full speed, his body slammed into Bella's, tackling her out of the way. As they fell, without looking and acting purely on instinct, he simultaneously twisted and fired his own weapon.
The cavern went silent once more.
Somewhere, high above on the surface, gunfire continued, interrupted by the low, reverberating blasts from small explosives.
Slowly, Edward rolled off Bella and onto his back, muttering a low, "Fuck."
Stunned, almost in a daze, he squinted up at the lights overhead, watching the dissipating curls of white smoke. His head lolled to the side, and across the concrete, he saw the red head, where she sprawled, motionless and bleeding from the dark crimson bloom in her forehead. His eyes traveled back a dozen feet to Aro, where he'd slumped to the ground, his mouth still open in a frozen scream of shock and rage.
"Edward?" Bella asked. His eyes dragged back toward Bella's panicked voice as she scrambled over to him. Cool hands found his face. "Oh, God."
"It's fine." A dull pain stabbed through his guts, making him frown, and his palms clapped over his abdomen. He gave her a small smile. "Minor."
"No, I don't think this is minor." Bella's head shook and her teeth worried the inside of her cheek. "You're hit. Move your hands. Let me see."
Edward's palms lifted, already wet and slimy, even through the fabric of his uniform.
"Shit. Shit, shit, shit!" she yelled, yanking the zipper of his flight suit down and throwing his t-shirt up to his chest. An angry, penny-sized hole sat right above one of his old, healed-over knife scars, just below his ribcage on his right-hand side. "I need to check your back."
"It didn't go through."
"How do you know?" she asked, even as she reached under him, walking along his spine and muscles, searching for the oozing wetness that wasn't there.
"Small caliber. Too far away." He winced. "Probably better if it had."
"Why did you do that?!" Trying her damnedest to hide her fear, Bella stripped off her vest and flipped it over to where she could reach the IFAK attached to the side. She threw the pouch open, immediately targeting the green Quikclot dressing and a long, wide compression bandage. Looking down at the trails of red staining the warm, touchable tan of his skin, her voice rose in pitch and volume. "I'm the one with armor!"
"Wasn't really thinking about that." Edward's shoulders shook with something in between a laugh and a cough. The motion made his insides burn. "And she wasn't aiming at your chest."
"Damn it, you always do this shit, don't you?" With quick, sure movements that would have made his staff sergeant and unlikely medic proud, Bella ripped open the hemostatic dressing and placed it over the oozing wound, holding it tight against his skin. "Hold this. Keep pressure on it," she told him, placing his hand over the dressing, as she wedged the compression bandage underneath his back and began wrapping. On the second pass, she shooed his hand away, and then as she quickly tied it off on the side, she asked him, "What do we do?"
Edward skated his fingertips across the fabric tightly wound around his abdomen, once again mildly surprised by the knowledge this woman had somehow accumulated. When he started to sit up, she flashed him a furious scowl, but he waved her off and slowly lumbered to his feet, ignoring the deepening throb in his gut. "We need to get back up to the surface. I need to see what's going on." He zipped up his flight suit with another wince and then checked his wrist. "The strike wasn't supposed to take this long." Another long pepper of distant gunfire punctuated his statement. "And I need to find Walker before he escapes."
A voice purred behind them, "My, my, my, look at what you've done."
Edward spun, his rifle up and ready.
Haloed by the black mouth of the entry, Walker stood, pistol extended and aimed directly at the woman beside him. Dark, smoky smudges dappled his cheeks, and his hair hung around his face in oily strings. Specks of crimson splattered his fatigues. A wide gash cut across his thigh, but he didn't even seem to notice. A dark, almost maniacal grin lit the former captain's face.
"Unh-uh," the man chimed with singsong glee as he stepped into the cavern. "You've expended such effort to save her. It'd be a shame to lose her because you lost your trigger discipline."
Eyes never leaving the man in front of him, Edward turned, following him as he slowly circled toward them. Not risking a glance to his left, where Bella stood beside him, wide-eyed and frozen. Her breath came out in sharp, wheezing pants.
James toed Aro's lifeless body with his boot and laughed. "So, you managed to kill that fool after all. I suppose I should care about that." His shoulders rolled in a lazy shrug, but then his gaze skated across the concrete from Aro to the sprawled out red head. Walker's eyes narrowed and that gleeful expression turned ice-cold and ruthless. "Now for that, you'll pay."
Walker edged closer, no more than twenty yards. "I want you to know that once I've taken care of you, I will enjoy hurting Dr. Swan. I will delight in her suffering like you can't imagine."
Edward shifted as Walker continued his slow approach. "Why?" he asked, trying to buy time and trying to ease himself between the man's muzzle and the woman next to him. As he twisted around, the muscles in his torso spasmed, and despite the earlier surge of adrenaline, Edward swore he could feel the slug punch into something deeper. It felt like someone had hit him with a pipe wrench. Something wet seeped out of his bandage, soaking through his flight suit.
"Why not?" James shrugged again as he stepped over Victoria's body.
"You are one fucked up son of a bitch."
Walker's lips spread into something truly chilling. "Oh, Captain, you don't know the half of it."
Barely moving his lips, trusting that she would hear and comprehend, Edward whispered to Bella. "One… Two…"
Right as Edward whispered that final, "Go!" Bella did exactly what she knew he wanted her to do and threw herself to the ground. The split second her knees hit concrete, two shots rang out, almost on top of each other.
Bella's arm ignited as Walker's round skimmed across the top of her shoulder, slicing through her shirt and skin, before ricocheting off the steel locker behind her. She rolled sideways, just in time to hear Walker's roar as he staggered backward from the force of Edward's round to his thigh.
Now out in the open cavern, the two men began to circle each other in a deadly duel.
That maniacal grin reappeared as Walker reached to his back to grab a long, matte-black combat knife. Its wickedly curved, serrated blade glinted in the light. "You're quick, Captain." He nodded to the rapidly expanding black-on-black stain on Edward's trunk. "But it looks like you're a little worse for wear."
In a blinding display of speed, Walker raced forward, clearing the remaining yards. Reacting immediately, Edward got off a pair of successive rounds, hitting the man in the arm, just before the former captain barreled into him, knocking them both to the ground. Walker's sidearm clanked against the concrete somewhere to the left.
They rolled across the floor in a fast, blurred tangle of limbs. Edward's fist rammed into the armored plate over Walker's sternum, knocking the breath out of him. He hit the man again and again and again, each time earning harsh punches of air. But the other man was just as well trained and had the same spike of adrenaline coursing through his veins.
And he wasn't losing blood like an open fountain.
A right cross to the jaw whipped Edward's head around. Another cracked his jaw, and then out of nowhere, Walker's combat knife arced above him and aimed straight for his chest. On sheer instinct, Edward's arms crossed in a brace, blocking Walker's wrist. They struggled in a locked embrace until Walker's opposite fist jabbed into Edward's right side, directly into the gunshot wound. Blinded by the sharp pain and abrupt rush of blood, Edward rolled left, right as the blade raked down his forearm, leaving a trail of fire he knew oh-so-well.
With a hard knee to the stomach and another to his thigh, Edward threw the man off and shot to his feet. But Walker was a beast, up and already rushing him again. Just as Edward made it to the thrown-off sidearm, a sharp punch in his back stopped him cold.
"Not so fast," Walker growled. He grabbed Edward by the back of the flight suit, yanking him closer as his knife dug deeper between Edward's ribs and pierced his right lung. His wrist jerked, widening the wound, before drawing the serrated blade out and stabbing him once again, this time on the left.
"Let him go."
James stiffened and then laughed as he dragged Edward around, positioning him in front like a shield. "I don't think so." He slowly withdrew the blade, only to whip it up to Edward's throat. "Do you think you can manage to hit me before I slit his throat?" He grinned a row of bloodied teeth. "Why don't we try it and see?"
"I said, let him go," Bella breathed, flicking on the red laser line. The crimson beam shot out toward the two men, seeking an open pathway to Walker but finding nothing but her Marine.
Ice-cold sweat beaded along Edward's forehead, and his vision swam. He coughed, nicking himself on Walker's blade, and the sound was wet and gurgling. Harder, he coughed again, this time spraying a cloud of dark red droplets. "Doctor…"
Bella's eyes flew to Edward's. Unfocused, flat, and absent their usual gemstone fire, it was obvious that he was barely hanging on to consciousness. Even behind the warpaint, she could see the waning paleness of his complexion. That darker stain on his flight suit now took up his entire stomach and chest, and she could already see trails of blood dripping down his fingers and pooling on the floor.
"Doctor," Edward said, coughing up another spray of blood. His eyes met hers then, and for a split second, that familiar sharpness returned. "Shoot me."
Bella's lungs spasmed and the red line of her laser wavered. "No–"
"Bella, do it," he said, harsher, as his mouth filled with copper. Edward went to lift his arm, but it just fell to his side like a dead weight. Numbness crawled through his limbs, threaded with a deep, resigned, bittersweet sadness. A dozen images flashed through his head, half of which included the dark-haired civilian holding his sidearm. "I'm not making it out of here anyway."
"Oh, yes, please do shoot him." James laughed, and the sound of it was like razorblades slicing her skin. "So beautifully tragic."
"No," Bella replied. Her voice shook and tears pooled along her lower eyelids before streaming down her cheeks. "Edward, I can't."
"Yes, you can. Take a deep breath." Edward swallowed back another cough. His voice was nothing more than a wet, raspy whisper. "Remember what I told you back in the Negev. Aim for the biggest target. This close and with my rounds, they'll go through and take him down, too."
Edward gave her a weak, lopsided smile, stained with his blood. His eyes fluttered and shut for a second longer than they should have. "It's okay. Bella, look at me. You can end all this right now."
"No!"
"Shoot me, Doctor… that's an order."
Time stood still.
And while Bella knew it was only a second or two, every single thing in the cavern ceased. The lingering curls of smoke stopped swirling. The echoing gunfire above went silent. Her heart stopped beating.
Bella licked her lips, trying to piece together something – anything – that could save them both. As she watched a line of red trickle down the side of Edward's neck where Walker's knife pressed too tightly, the air in her lungs turned to lead. Her muscles froze, trembling in both fear and agony, and her vision blurred.
Edward's eyes slid shut, and this time they stayed that way.
Bella's hand tightened around the grip and her finger curled around the trigger. Her laser line wobbled left, hovering on Edward's chest, right where his heart would be and where his armor would have been sitting if he hadn't have put it on her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, and her finger squeezed the trigger.
The sound… the sound was absolutely deafening, echoing and bouncing off the cavern walls and inside her head.
Her sidearm tumbled out of her hand and clattered against the concrete.
And as both men fell to the floor, Bella screamed.
.
.
.
Notes:
Certain interrogation techniques employed in this story are for the fiction setting only. In the real world, because of the sometimes gray and always dangerous nature of their work, special operations forces (such as Edward's) are granted a great deal of leeway, especially in situations in which they're operating under extreme duress, but there are still lines that can't be crossed. For this story, though, I'm perfectly okay with Edward toeing up to and crossing some lines.
Hebrew (transliterated):
Kamuvan: of course
Serbian (transliterated):
Idi, pripremi vozila. Odlazimo sada: Go, prepare the vehicles. We're leaving now!
Glossary:
60-30: refers to the Fabrique Nationale (FN) MAG, which is a 7.62 mm general purpose machine gun. It's available in three variants: infantry (Model 60-20), coaxial machine gun for armored fighting vehicles (Model 60-40), and the Model 60-30 aircraft variant.
Buttstock: this is the end of the rifle that sits against your shoulder. The buttstock (and rifle in general) can be used during hand-to-hand combat and specific techniques are taught in the Marine Corps Martial Arts Program. The aim is to weaken an opponent's defenses and set up for a killing blow.
"Fiasco in '93": is a reference to Operation Gothic Serpent, which was a military operation conducted in Mogadishu, Somalia, by an American-led coalition during the Somali Civil War in 1993. The primary objective of the operation was to capture Mohamed Farrah Aidid, a Somalian military officer who was wanted by the Unified Task Force after his attacks against United Nations troops in 1992. As part of the operation, troops were deployed on a coalition mission to arrest two of Aidid's lieutenants. The mission ultimately culminated in what became known as the 1993 Battle of Mogadishu, which was the subject of the movie, Black Hawk Down [Side note: this is a phenomenal movie, if you haven't seen it. I know several military folks who look on it favorably, at least as far as Hollywood military movies go. To make the action as accurate as possible, Ridley Scott utilized Special Ops vets to advise]
FZ: refers to the Forges de Zeebrugge, FZ225 19-tube reusable rocket launcher designed for helicopter use. It's a versatile unguided rocket system that fires 70 mm rockets, which can utilize a variety of different warheads. The launchers are fitted as axial pods and mounted below the cockpit on each side of the aircraft.
Glock: is a brand of polymer-framed, short recoil-operated, locked-breech semi-automatic pistols designed and produced by Austrian manufacturer Glock Ges.m.b.H. There are several variants, including the 9x19mm parabellum, .40, .380 Auto, .45 ACP, etc. Various militaries and police forces around the world employ Glock as their standard service pistol.
Kickball: for my non-American friends, kickball is/was a popular elementary school game in the US. It essentially follows the same premise and format as baseball, but instead of hitting a small hard ball with a bat, you kick a rubbery, bouncy ball about the size of a soccer ball.
Mark 48: the Mark 48, or Mk 48, or Maximi is a gas-operated, air-cooled, fully automatic belt-fed machine gun, firing 7.62×51mm NATO cartridges from a disintegrating belt of ammunition. It is manufactured by Fabrique Nationale Manufacturing, Inc., a division of FN Herstal based in the United States, and was developed in conjunction with the U.S. Special Operations Command (USSOCOM). It's lighter than the M240B (Emmett's machine gun of choice), but it's a little lower in effective range and accuracy.
Quikclot: is a brand of hemostatic dressing, which is a wound dressing that contains an agent that promotes blood clotting. [I keep some of this in powder form in my first aid kit at home. It's very handy for stopping stubborn bleeding wounds.]
RPG-7: is a portable, reusable, unguided, shoulder-launched, anti-tank, rocket-propelled grenade launcher. The ruggedness, simplicity, low cost, and effectiveness of the RPG-7 has made it the most widely used anti-armor weapon in the world. It is popular with irregular and guerrilla forces and has been used in almost all conflicts across all continents since the mid-1960s from the Vietnam War to the ongoing Syrian Civil War.
SAW: in the above chapter, Alice asks El'azar if anyone can man a "flyin' SAW". Here she's just using the term as a general reference to general support automatic weapon. When a US soldier or Marine uses the term, they often mean the M249, or the M249 Squad Automatic Weapon (SAW), specifically. The M249 is a gas-operated, air-cooled machine light machine gun that fires a 5.56 x 45mm NATO round. Usually at least 1 individual in a team will man a SAW or other similar/equivalent weapon (see: Emmett's 240B, Paul's Mark 48). Like other similar weapons, the M249 provides infantry squads with a high rate of machine gun fire, combined with the accuracy and portability of a rifle.