Fireteam Delta by J. Halpin (ebook reader that looks like a book txt) 📕

“I didn’t get a good look at what it was, but something ran off after the doors came down. Not one of the people, something as big as the damn hallway,” Adams added. That was news to Summers. As far as he knew, they’d only had to deal with the nudist cannibals.

“You’re telling me something survived a grenade detonating point blank?” the colonel asked skeptically.

“I don’t know how far it got, but it was moving,” Adams said, then added, “uh, sir.”

“And the people, like the woman who attacked you . . . ?” the colonel prompted.

“Sir, she was going for my gun, sir. Summers saw her, sir,” Adams said quickly. He looked like he wanted to tack a few more “sirs” on there as he looked to Summers for confirmation. As the colonel’s attention turned back to him, Summers nodded in confirmation, deciding that the less he actually said, the better.

They heard the door behind them swing open, and Summers looked up to find a panicked lieutenant in the doorframe. “Sir, we’ve secured the entrance to the bunker. There hasn’t been any activity; however, we’ve heard gunfire further up. Should we move in to assist?”

The colonel considered that for a moment. “Organize what fireteams we can muster. Keep the rest at the entrance. If we’re going in, we’ll do so with everything we have.” He turned back to Summers and the increasingly nervous Adams. “You’re dismissed. I’ll want a full report when this is over.”

That was . . . odd. It was a given that the colonel knew something about what was happening, but generally, when two of your guards killed a room full of people, there was at least a few minutes of consideration before you handed them back their guns. Then again, the base was also apparently a warzone. Just what in the hell was happening?

The lieutenant saluted. Nowak stood as well, turning to Summers. “You two still combat effective?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Summers replied automatically, after which he realized he’d just volunteered to go back into the active combat zone with said cannibal nudists. Shit.

The colonel nodded approvingly. “You have ten minutes. Get yourselves ready.”

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The scenery really was beautiful, Summers noted. He hadn’t taken the time to appreciate the twin mountains the base was built beside, or the natural beauty of the landscape around them. He took a moment to correct that while also doing his damnedest to keep his shit together. It’s not that he was afraid of dying. Well, he was, but he’d accepted that risk a long time ago. He’d joined up with a combat unit, after all. But being eaten alive hadn’t been something he’d ever given much thought to. There was a primal, animalistic fear in that, to which Summers responded by checking his weapon and admiring the view.

And while he hadn’t really had time to think about it earlier, he’d had a moment of realization shortly after leaving the colonel behind. It occurred to him that, for all they knew, an entire platoon of soldiers outfitted and trained for whatever it was they were about to do had been wiped out. Conversely, they were going in blind, with less equipment and less intel on the enemy. Common sense would suggest that they were screwed.

“This is such a stupid way to die,” Summers muttered to himself. It was true, too. This was the slowest, most out-of-the-way place some of the brightest minds in the US Army could find for him. And he was going to die there.

“Summers!” Nowak called. Summers got up, heading over to find Nowak with Cortez and Adams beside him.

“You good?” Nowak asked.

Summers nodded in response. He noticed Cortez had her hand wrapped around her rifle—and the under-barrel grenade launcher attached to it. That made him a little nervous.

“You know, if you fire that off in the bunker, it’s just as likely to kill us as whatever else is in there,” Summers said, indicating the weapon.

“It’s what they gave me. Don’t worry. If it comes to that, I’ll shoot you first. Make it nice and quick,” Cortez replied. Summers nodded, as if that settled the matter.

“From here on, we’re designated as Fireteam Delta. We’ll be running point,” Nowak said.

“Ex-fucking-cuse me?” Summers asked, then immediately regretted it. In his defense, he’d thought they were screwed before the colonel decided to throw him into the blender first.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but me, you, and Cortez here are the only boots at this base with any actual combat experience. So that’s our role. We go in, back up any remnants of the 63rd—that’s what the colonel’s calling the other platoon—and then help with extraction.”

“You going to tell us what’s going on now, Nowak?” Cortez prodded. Nowak only looked annoyed in response.

“I know as much as you do. There’s bad shit in yonder hole, and we need to kill it,” Nowak responded.

“Swear on your mother’s grave?” Cortez asked.

“She ain’t dead, but . . . sure?”

“Good enough for me. Private in front?” Cortez gestured to Adams.

“Sorry, what?” Adams brain had only just caught up to the situation at hand.

“Yeah, I’d rather not get shot in the back of the head. Sorry, kid. It’s the best place for you,” Nowak agreed. Adams looked to Summers for help.

“Once we’re out of the hall, we’ll have some cover, don’t worry.” Summers placed a reassuring hand on Adams’ shoulder.

For his part, Adams was doing his best not to look terrified. He was failing miserably, but they appreciated the effort.

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Summers stepped in, past what remained of the bunker door. It was all twisted, pockmarked metal. The grenade really did a number on the facade, but the thick doors had weathered the actual blast pretty well. No doubt it would have held, if Summers hadn’t felt the need