Chapter 5
Callaway keyed the radio.
“Colonel, I need tactical control for ninety seconds.”
Grayson shouted, “Denied!”
Holt answered over him.
“Granted.”
The platoon heard it.
Every soldier heard it.
For the next ninety seconds, Callaway became the only map that mattered.
“Second squad, smoke front.”
Two canisters flew.
White smoke rolled across the riverbed.
“Ellis, drag Miller behind the low wall.”
Ellis looked shocked she knew his name.
Then he moved.
“Bravo element, do not take the north gap. It’s wired.”
A corporal froze inches before stepping between two rocks.
He looked down.
A thin wire shimmered in the dust.
His face went white.
Callaway fired again.
A fighter fell from the ridge above the wire.
Grayson stared at her like he was watching a locked door open from the inside.
“How did you know?”
Callaway didn’t look at him.
“They always leave the easy escape open.”
The enemy tried to push down from the west shelf.
Callaway counted them by muzzle flashes.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
She did not waste shots.
She did not rush.
Every round had a reason.
Every pause had purpose.
Within a minute, the platoon was no longer dying in the riverbed.
They were moving.
Slowly.
Painfully.
But moving.
Then the worst sound came.
A wounded soldier cried out from the open.
Miller.
He had been hit near the crashed drone, pinned behind a cracked engine panel with his leg bleeding badly.
The enemy knew it.
They were waiting for someone to run to him.
Grayson saw Miller and hesitated.
Everyone saw him hesitate.
May you like
Callaway did not.
Read Part 6 to see what Callaway did when Grayson froze in front of his own wounded soldier.
