Ghost Watch by David Rollins Read Free Book Online

one of them dead.
    ‘Give me your smoke,’ I said to Stef, seeing the canisters hanging from his webbing. His wounded arm wouldn’t allow him the movement required to unhitch them. His eyes moved around, unable to focus. An incoming round whined off the road beside my hand, fragments of stone chips ripping through the fabric of the battle uniform around my wrist.
    ‘You’re a ghost,’ Stefanovic murmured, and he dragged his bloody fingers down my face, across my mouth.
    I spat the copper taste of his blood out of my mouth and took his canisters.
    ‘Smoke,’ I said to Fallon.
    He handed his over and I collected more from Detmond and Meyers.
    ‘Get everyone in the vehicle,’ I yelled.
    I popped two canisters and threw them upwind. Ribbons of green and red smoke swirled and drifted down the road toward us. I ran to open the driver’s door of the third Landcruiser and verified that the engine was still running. Then I sprinted around to the back and opened the rear hatch. The enemy figured something was up and concentrated their fire on the upright vehicle, but the smoke was making their aim uncertain. A volley of AK rounds, sounding like a heavy-metal drum solo, punched new holes all over the roof of the Landcruiser shielding us.
    I dashed back and hoisted Meyers across my shoulders once more. With Fallon shooting over us, we made it to the open rear hatch. I laid Meyers sideways across the width of the floor and hooked one of his arms around a rear seatbelt anchored to the car’s bodywork above his head. Detmond helped Stefanovic into the back seat; Bellows and Mattock provided covering fire. I ran back to the driver’s door. Fallon had climbed in and was struggling to prop Rogerson against the passenger door. There wasn’t enough room; at least, not for me.
    I popped smoke, tossed it, then slammed the doors shut.
    ‘C’mon, Cooper!’ Fallon shouted. ‘Get in!’
    ‘Go!’ I said, smacking the roof with the flat of my hand.
    The incoming fire was getting more accurate. Holes were gouged in the hood; the windscreen shattered. Fallon was about to argue but changed his mind. He jumped back behind the wheel, jammed it into drive, and stomped on the gas. The Toyota took off, wheels spinning in the packed dirt, the vehicle fishtailing into the smoke, drawing some of the fire and leaving a vortex of red and green swirls in its wake. Within seconds, my unit was out of range and out of danger.
    I once more took up a position behind the second Landcruiser, the ground crimson with coagulating blood. I had my M4 and the captured M16s. I put a couple of them on single shot and fired them from the hip at the buildings occupied by the enemy. Changing mags, I did the same again. When those mags were spent, I threw more smoke and emptied another couple of mags, changing to three shot bursts, hoping the opposition might think there was more than one idiot left down here.
    I put down the M16 with the others, crawled to the rear bumper, popped two canisters, the last of them, and threw them short. Bright red smoke swirled over my position, but mostly over the wrecked building behind me. A barrage of lead poured in, cutting me off from those M16s. I had to leave them, and crept through the smoke and the rubble of the destroyed building, back to where we’d found Meyers.
    Still no sign of those damn Apaches. Time to boogie.
    The choking, cloying dust and smoke stung my eyes as I ran crouched over. I came out into the open and movement stopped me. Two kids with AKs were creeping in my direction. I saw them before they saw me. The way they were moving, it was obvious that they were hoping to come up behind my position. I recognized them. They were the boys outside al-Eqbal’s cousin’s place when we rolled up. Maybe they were the ones who blew the whistle on our arrival to the Taliban. One of them looked right at me and his eyes widened. Terror filled his face. He pointed at me and screamed. His buddy did likewise, and they both