She could count off the beats in her head as they happened- the landmine, the firefight. The noise died down and she tried to move herself to the ridge, to look down and see what had happened to Sam and to Yorick. She rolled over and pulled back to kneel. By the time she was edging toward the lookout spot, there were footsteps, crunching and fast, in the snow to her left. She threw herself back and whipped the dragunov around to fire into whoever was approaching and the motion managed to move the point of impact from what would have been her throat to her shoulder. She gritted her teeth threw herself forward, colliding with the body behind the one she'd just put down, all fight instinct.
A knife came out and she crushed the assailant's face with the butt of her rifle, worsened it with her elbow, and drove his knife into his own ribs. She went to the ridge and looked down, heedless of the blood pouring out of her shoulder.
Three standing Spetsnaz, over-whelmed, being taken inside. One of them was tall. Petrenko, Sam, Yorick. So regardless of her interference, three would always be taken.
Four if she joined them, but why do that? Her mind was suddenly spinning very fast, working past the adrenaline, panic and pain.
They could only suspect the team would have a sniper in their support. And they would only know if she confirmed it. If she didn't, it guaranteed more people to get through one she got inside the building. If she did, it gave away her position and put people on her tail.
Of course, wounded as she was, it would be difficult either way. She lifted her rifle and aimed, and couldn't keep it steady. Gasping with frustration, she dropped it and pulled out her side arm.
"Please let this work," she said, placed the barrel under her chin and, with every nerve ending screaming for her not to, forced the trigger down.
She was in almost the same place among drifts and heavily-laden trees. There was a low concrete building half buried in the stuff in the small box canyon below her, just as their should be. She got up and, crouched, started running along the ridge. She planted herself behind a tree, turned around it, and shot the treacherous spot of ground where the landmine was planted. Yards away, some of her teammates were knocked back, but at least none were dead. They scrambled, two not as quickly, to get back and out of direct lines of fire as insurgents began to appear on the roof. Natalya downed four before she was up and running again to a different place. She prayed silently that, knowing they'd be overwhelmed, Sam and Yorick wouldn't get themselves shot. She took up another position and killed three more men, and no one looked behind them. The exchange of fire masked the trajectory of her own- they didn't know where she was. Hopefully they didn't know she was anywhere. She started running again.
no subject
A knife came out and she crushed the assailant's face with the butt of her rifle, worsened it with her elbow, and drove his knife into his own ribs. She went to the ridge and looked down, heedless of the blood pouring out of her shoulder.
Three standing Spetsnaz, over-whelmed, being taken inside. One of them was tall. Petrenko, Sam, Yorick. So regardless of her interference, three would always be taken.
Four if she joined them, but why do that? Her mind was suddenly spinning very fast, working past the adrenaline, panic and pain.
They could only suspect the team would have a sniper in their support. And they would only know if she confirmed it. If she didn't, it guaranteed more people to get through one she got inside the building. If she did, it gave away her position and put people on her tail.
Of course, wounded as she was, it would be difficult either way. She lifted her rifle and aimed, and couldn't keep it steady. Gasping with frustration, she dropped it and pulled out her side arm.
"Please let this work," she said, placed the barrel under her chin and, with every nerve ending screaming for her not to, forced the trigger down.
She was in almost the same place among drifts and heavily-laden trees. There was a low concrete building half buried in the stuff in the small box canyon below her, just as their should be. She got up and, crouched, started running along the ridge. She planted herself behind a tree, turned around it, and shot the treacherous spot of ground where the landmine was planted. Yards away, some of her teammates were knocked back, but at least none were dead. They scrambled, two not as quickly, to get back and out of direct lines of fire as insurgents began to appear on the roof. Natalya downed four before she was up and running again to a different place. She prayed silently that, knowing they'd be overwhelmed, Sam and Yorick wouldn't get themselves shot. She took up another position and killed three more men, and no one looked behind them. The exchange of fire masked the trajectory of her own- they didn't know where she was. Hopefully they didn't know she was anywhere. She started running again.