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He gave Merc a “follow me” sign. “Going in,” he whispered into his headset.
“Right behind you,” Merc said.
Griff pulled his night-vision goggles down over his eyes, pushed open the front door and entered, his machine gun with a silencer in place leading the way.
Merc followed.
Crack and Willy would bring up the rear, with Fridge and Marty covering the building from the outside.
One by one, they cleared each room, the soft sound of silenced gunfire barely making enough noise to rouse the ISIS soldiers from their sleep.
By the time they reached the locked door at the rear of the building, they’d dispatched nine ISIS rebels with no resistance.
The last door had a padlock on the outside of the door.
Griff slid his night-vision goggles up. Merc aimed the beam of his penlight at the lock while Griff pulled the bolt cutter from where it was strapped to his back and made quick work of the master lock on the hasp.
With the lock gone, the door swung open. Mercury shined his flashlight into the dark room.
The stench hit Griff first.
A man lay on the floor beaten, bloody, covered in excrement and so filthy Griff wasn't sure the man was Joe Franklin, the nephew of Senator George Franklin. Was this the American they’d been sent to rescue?
Griff bent over the man and rolled him onto his back. “What’s your name?”
The man groaned something unintelligible.
“Boys,” JJ’s voice sounded in Griff’s ear. “We’ve got company. Looks like a whole company of ISIS headed our way in a convoy of trucks.”
“Name!” Griff said more urgently.
The man forced sound through swollen lips. “Joe.”
“Good enough,” Merc said. “Get him out of here.”
“Wrap it, Griff,” Fridge said. “We have a date with a helo I don’t plan to miss.”
Griff bent, forcing back his gag reflex, grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him up over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
The hallways were too narrow for Merc to help. Griff had to carry the man out on his own. He'd been beaten so severely that he couldn't help himself, and it was like carrying a dead man. One who moaned every time his ribs bounced against Griff’s armor plating.
“I hope you’re on your way out of the village,” JJ said. “They’re coming in fast.”
Gunfire sounded.
“Who opened fire?” Fridge demanded.
“None of us,” JJ answered. “They’re firing into the air. I won’t be able to hold them off for long.”
“Don’t try,” Fridge said. “Get back and head for our extraction point.”
Griff emerged from the building, straining beneath the man's weight on his back.
Merc trotted along beside him. “Let me help.”
“Help by getting us out of this shit hole before all hell breaks loose,” Griff said through gritted teeth.
“Crack and Merc, take point. Marty and I will have your backs,” Fridge said. “Go!”
