Pistachio pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. “I can’t believe they shot me in the ass.” He looked at his wallet: the hole went completely through. He grunted. “And the bullet is still in my ass!”
Major Khan looked down at his chest—a metal piece of GPS electronics stuck out of it. When he lifted his arm, electronics shifted in his chest pocket like loose change. The major pulled the bloody piece of metal out. He remembered the face of the man who just shot him. He knew the shooter from Kahar, Iraq, when the major had the green-faced devil in his sniper sight. Green-Face moved just before he took the shot. He was the same green-face who slaughtered his Shiite militia, the same man who had killed his beloved Abubakar. Major Khan’s militia reported that this green-face’s name was Alex Brandenburg.
Major Khan looked at the smoke ahead of him in the hall—he couldn’t see anything beyond it. The major could charge through and hope he didn’t run into an ambush or booby trap, or he could be cautious and wait until the smoke receded before proceeding—not that he was afraid of death. On the contrary, part of him welcomed death. Major Khan simply wanted to die under his own terms.
“That bastard shot you,” Lieutenant Saeedi said. “Nobody shoots my friend and lives to tell about it—nobody!” He rushed down the hallway toward the smoke.
Major Khan appreciated Lieutenant Saeedi taking the lead. The major followed, staying just far enough back in case the shit hit the fan. Major Khan glanced back to see Pistachio limping behind him.
“You hear that, you bastards?!” Lieutenant Saeedi called into the smoke. “I’m coming for you!” He ran into the smoke. “Come on,” Lieutenant Saeedi shouted, “they’re getting away!”
Major Khan entered the smoke, and when he exited the other side, he saw Lieutenant Saeedi but no Alex. He caught up with Lieutenant Saeedi, and they picked up speed.