Continuing Chapter 1
Or click as it were. David even gave a theatrical jump as if a bullet had really passed through his Medulla Oblongata. He fell back onto the bed, dissatisified with the experiment. His ability to carry out his own assissination could never be proven beforehand. That was the problem with all models. They really didn’t prove much. They just made people–mostly labratory-bound scientists–feel secure and smart. Like prophets. He hid the pistol under the mattress. The phone rang.
“It could get worse”, said Andrew. He dropped a magazine from his assault rifle, pulled a fully loaded one from his battle vest and stuffed it into the mag well.
“I really fucking hate it when people say that.” Trindle Drake stopped firing just long enough to glare at Andrew, both of them huddled like rabbits in a hole. Their hole happened to be surrounded by sandbags, their only protection against the withering fire that had kept them pinned for two hours now. Trindle returned to firing at the figures some 100 meters away behind a rock outcropping. “How the hell could it get worse?” He squeezed off a burst, then snapped on the mic on his helmet. ” Space Superiority Ship, Hoden, this is Reaper Eight, do you copy, over?” He leaned his head down near the damp clay at the bottom of the hole so that he could hear any reponse from Hoden’s crew. Andrew was firing again.
“Tell them I’m running out of ammo,” said Andrew over his own gunfire.
“Hoden, do you copy?” He could only shake his head. The Russians were already too close. It was only a matter of time before they’d pull a suppress and flank manuever. Trindle was surprised he and Andrew hadn’t caught a spiker grenade already. He removed his next to last magazine from its pouch and slammed it into his rifle. “Single shots. Go to singles. We’re purely defensive now.” He watched Andrew flip the fire selector on his rifle then go back to a supported position.
“This is Hoden, Reaper Eight, we copy. What is your grid?”