“Just leave the packs?” asked Cat, shivering.
“We’ll want our weapons if we make it up top.”
“Big if,” said Cat.
In answer, Cole started to climb. It was hard to keep his grip. And cold numb wet bare feet weren’t as stable to climb with as well-fitting boots. But he had to keep moving. Maybe he could still get to the top before the doors opened.
Cat was keeping up with him, nice steady progress up the ladder.
The big steel door started opening. A couple of men in rebel body armor came out and scanned the area. It didn’t take them two seconds to see Cole and Cat, and another two seconds to start shooting.
They missed.
“Their marksman training not as good as our marksman training,” said Cat.
“Fine with me,” said Cole.
A bullet came much closer.
“Getting the range now,” said Cat.
“I’m nearly there.”
Cole noticed the whooshing sound behind him and to the right. A moment later, the entrance of the tunnel erupted in flames.
“Good shot with the SMAW,” said Cat.
“Inappropriate weapon,” said Cole. “Rifles would have been enough.”
“Either way, I think we lost our element of surprise, abun.”
Cole knew that Drew and Babe would be moving the SMAW to a different position now.
“Wish I knew what was waiting for us at the top of this ladder.”
Rifle fire from directly behind them didn’t result in any bullets striking near them. It was sniper work—ping. Wait. Ping. That would be Load and Arty, firing past them at someone on top of the island.
And now there was returning gunfire from directly above them, shooting out across the water.
“I just hope Drew and Babe don’t try to use a mortar,” said Cole. “I don’t want them to blow up that cabin.”
“Don’t stop to put on your infra, abun.”
“Wasn’t going to.”
They were now on the steel beams that supported the dock. But there was gunfire coming from inside the huge doors again, and from men fanning out along the shoreline. Correctly, Load and Arty were only shooting at targets on top of the island, so that Cole and Cat would have a chance to get up and onto the surface without getting their heads blown off the moment they raised them above the level of the dock.
Cole got out his handgun and swung out to climb the swimmer’s ladder.
“Such a baby,” said Cat. He clambered directly onto the dock from the other side.
There were two bodies—in ranger uniforms, not armor—lying on the ground. But Cole was aware—from the sound, from motion—that there were others inside the cabin now, and a pair who had moved off into the brush beside the cabin. He flattened himself on the ground. He was immediately aware of every rise and dip in the surface and arranged his body to present the hardest possible target, even as he looked into the brush and found a target. A flurry of motion told him that he had at least come close.
He crept over to the nearest body and used that slight cover while he got his pack off. It would be like a howdah on an elephant to carry that around with him during this. He pulled his rifle off the pack. This was sniper work now.
TWENTY
TRAP DOOR