John sprinted through the oasis, dodging bullets. A smoke grenade went off behind him, another part of Hadi’s plan. He evened out his breathing, running with precision, heading to their rendezvous point.
Zigzagging through tents, a bullet whizzed past John’s ear. Adrenaline coursing through his veins. Another smoke grenade went off. Smoke filled the camp, weaving its way through the tents, making John’s escape hidden for brief moments. Enough time to lose some pursuers.
John pulled himself up onto a camel, it lifted him to air, an explosion rumbled from the fartherest end of the camp, disintegrating the machinery of the gold operation, metal shards hitting men scrambling for cover. It drew away the men chasing him. He made his way, his camel taking long strides, to the rendezvous point, leaving the camp in a frenzy. He knew what came next, drones would be there soon. And the way out of there, mission complete and a glass of champagne in his hand.
He saw Hadi on a camel coming from the other end of the camp, heading to his direction. John focused on the way ahead.
A rhythmic whomp-whomp-whomp pulsed through the air as the first helicopter cut through the air. It grew louder. As they ran closer, shots went in the opposite direction, over their heads from the soldier sitting in the door. Behind them, men from the camp riding horses, rifles pointing in their direction and gaining on them.
Hadi cried out. John saw a spray of blood from his shoulder. John turned around with a sudden switch in movement, more bullets whizzing like bees past them. They rode side by side, the helicopter coming closer. They had to jump from the camel and run the rest of the way, through gun fire on both front and rear trajectories. Blood poured from his shoulder and he grunted with pain trying to keep up.
John grabbed him and pulled him to the helicopter, pushed him on and dived in head first. His muscles twitched as he gripped tightly the strap he found, the pressure from the upward forced pushed him down into the cabin floor. More shots rang out trying to strike the helicopter, continuing until they were out of reach.
One drone found its mark, the entrance of the mine. Others collided with the mountain, making sure everything would be eradicated.
A soldier held pressure to the gun shot wound, John, with a sly smile, showed him the USB. Hadi let out a sigh of relief and his fist, before falling back into his chair, a smile of relief spread through his face as he looked out the dirty window. Debris still floated in the air. The mountain crumbled, rocks falling, crushing everything.
“How’s he doing?” John asked the soldier.
“He’s loosing a lot of blood, but we aren’t too far away, medics will be waiting.”
As he said, as they landed at the base, medics waited nearby, anticipating their arrival. John helped the medics put Hadi onto the stretcher. He was unconscious. John moved away from the helicopter, the folds of his robe whipped in the wind from the down draft. He followed behind the medics, his movements stiff and controlled, the USB still in the tiny hideaway in his belt.
It happened before he could react. The medics dsiappeared into the hanger, a plane waited to take Hadi, a spy John had heard only rumors about, to an undisclosed hospital to continue treatment and recover. The force of the blast threw him backward, landing near a jeep, knocking him out for a moment. His vision blurred, his ears rang in a sharp register, high-pitched and piercing, the sound of men screaming felt like a dream. He fell backward into oblivion.
His eyes blinked rapidly, vision still blurry, the pure whiteness of the room blinding him. Someone tried to talk to him, but the ringing in his ears overpowered the sound.
“Where am I?” his voice scratching its way out of his mouth.
“You’re in a hospital in Lisbon,” she said. “Don’t try to get up. You have lacerations and deep contusions from falling debris.”
He looked at his arms, black and blue, a plastic tube led from his arm to a clear plastic bag hanging above him.
“What happened?” John asked her. A deep male voice answered.
“Retribution,” he said. “It’s bigger than Mongoose thought. Get better fast. We need to get deeper inside. The intel you had was only the tip of the iceberg from what we know. We need more.”
John leaned back onto his pillow, the thich smell of bleach made his nose curl. “Yes, sir.”
Thanks for reading.
