Kill Zone (A Spider Shepherd Short Story) by Stephen Leather Read Free Book Online Page B

sprawled
in the dirt, blood still spouting from his throat. The first round had struck his
head, close to the left ear, gouging out a chunk of skull.   The second had torn out Todd’s larynx.
Either wound might have been fatal, the two together guaranteed it. Shepherd
cursed under his breath, took a syrette of morphine and injected him, squeezing
the body of the syrette to push out the drug like toothpaste from a tube. He
began fixing a trauma dressing over the wounds, even though he knew he was
merely going through the motions, because nothing could save the Captain now.
Death was seconds away, a minute or so at the most.
    Once the
dressings were in place he cradled Todd’s head against his chest, listening to
the wet, sucking sound of the air bubbling through his shattered larynx as
blood soaked his shirt.
    The Captain
grabbed at his arm as his body began to shudder.   There were more bursts of fire off to Shepherd’s left.   Todd was staring at Shepherd, his eyes
fearful. ‘You did good, Captain,’ Shepherd said. ‘You did good.’
    A fresh spasm
shook Todd, his eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped sideways to the
ground.
    As Shepherd
looked up, he saw a movement in the shadows by a pile of rubble at the edge of
the compound. A dark shape resolved itself into a crouching figure and Shepherd
saw a milky-white eye staring at him, though, seen through his goggles, it
glowed an eerie yellow. Shepherd grabbed his weapon and swung it up but in the
same instant he saw a double muzzle flash. The first round tugged at his
sleeve, but the next smashed into his shoulder, a sledgehammer blow knocking
him flat on his back, leaving the burst of fire from his own weapon arcing
harmlessly into the sky.
    A further burst
of fire chewed the ground around him, and his face was needled by cuts from
rock splinters, though they were no more than gnat bites compared with the
searing pain in his shoulder. From the corner of his eye, Shepherd saw Jock
swivelling to face the danger and loosing off a controlled burst of double
taps, but Ahmad Khan had already ducked into cover behind the rubble.
    Shepherd looked
down at his shoulder. There was a spreading pool of blood on his jacket,
glistening like wet tar in the flickering light of the muzzle flashes as his
team kept up a barrage of suppressing fire.
    Jimbo ran over,
pulling a field dressing from his jacket. ‘Stay down,’ he shouted and slapped
the dressing over the bullet wound. Shepherd took slow, deep breaths and fought
to stay calm. ‘Geordie, get over here !’ shouted Jimbo. ‘Spider’s hit!’
      Geordie sprinted over, bent double. He
looked at Todd but could see without checking that the Captain was already
dead.   He hurried over to Shepherd.
‘You okay?’ he asked.
    Shepherd shook
his head. He was far from okay. He opened his mouth to speak but the words were
lost as he coughed and choked and his mouth filled with blood. Helpless, he saw
the dark shape of the Taliban killer move away, inching around the rubble heap
and then disappearing into the darkness beyond. He tried to point at the
escaping Afghan but all the strength had drained from his arms.
    ‘I’m on it,’ said
Jimbo, standing up and firing a burst in the direction of the escaping Afghan.
    Spider tried to
sit up but Geordie’s big, powerful hand pressed him flat again. ‘Keep still and
let me work on you,’ he growled.   Geordie clamped the trauma pad over the wound, compressed it and bound
it as tight as he could. ‘Oboe! Oboe! All stations minimize,’ said Geordie into
his mic, SAS-speak ordering all unnecessary traffic off the radios. Geordie
looked down at Shepherd and slapped him gently across the face. ‘Stay with me
Spider.’
    Shepherd nodded.
‘I’m all right,’ he said, though each word was a strain.
    Geordie spoke
into his mic again. ‘Oboe! Oboe! We have casualties: Alpha 1, Alpha 5. One KIA,
one serious trauma of the right shoulder and chest. He needs fluids fast and
we’ve