As Cole soared through the air, he thought, This is it. I’m dead. This maniac got me killed. But then he landed on top of a flat tin roof with a crunch and rolled into a kneeling position with a ringside view of the chaos unfolding in the courtyard below.
The landscape was cloaked in dark shades of gray, the dim glow from various windows inside the prison creating distorted macabre shadows that danced across the walls and ground. The prisoners had scattered in all directions at the first sound of gunfire, and the darkness only heightened their panic. Cole saw several men crouched in corners against the walls, as if waiting for someone to save them. You guys need to save yourselves, or you’re never getting out of here, he thought sympathetically.
“We need to move and get off this roof,” Logan said as gunshots and muzzle flashes lit up the courtyard like cameras at a rock concert. “We’re sitting ducks up here. Cover me.”
Before Cole could respond, Logan slung the AK-47 over his shoulder and slid off the edge of the roof. He hung momentarily and then dropped out of sight.
Cole heard him hit the ground, followed immediately by, “Your turn!”
He scampered to the edge, slung the rifle across his back, and slid his legs out into the open air, allowing gravity to take control.
Bam-bam-bam!
Below him Logan fired three quick shots, and Cole heard a scream of pain mix with the chaotic shouts of confusion and fear. His arms fully extended, Cole released his grip on the metal roof and plummeted to the ground.
The shock of his landing sent a deep vibration through his body, but he reacted quickly, bending his knees and allowing himself to roll backward to absorb the energy of the fall. He scrambled to his feet and stood next to Logan.
“What now?” Cole asked, glancing at Logan, who was staring at the northwest corner of the courtyard in the direction of the telephone poles of death, where inmates had been crucified in the blazing heat and sun.
“Follow me,” Logan said, and moved into a crouching run.
Cole sprinted to catch up and then slowed himself to Logan’s pace once he reached his partner’s side. He spotted what Logan had already seen and was overcome with relief. It’s about time.
Two figures in black fatigues were rappelling from the guard tower, while two men still in the guard shack on the roof covered them with automatic weapons fire from suppressed submachine guns.
Cole heard their distinctive bursts and realized they were coming from all directions. At the courtyard’s northeast corner, even more black-clad men fast-roped down the prison’s walls.
“Looks like that little receiver of yours worked,” Logan said, scanning their surroundings for any threats.
“It was a transmitter, not a receiver,” Cole said.
Logan smiled to himself. “We can discuss the nuances of satellite communications some other time.”
The two men dashed across the courtyard, closing the distance to the nearest team of commandos. The first of the commandos landed on the ground and released the rope, spinning on his heels to assess the situation.
The commando whirled his submachine gun at Logan and Cole, who both stopped in their tracks and lowered their weapons.
“Don’t shoot! We’re Americans, and I assume you’re here for us,” Logan said quickly, looking into a serious face covered in black camouflage paint.
“Come closer, but no sudden moves. Understand?” the man said as the second commando landed on the ground behind him and released the rope.
The man’s steady eyes studied Logan’s face. “You must be Logan West.” He nodded at Cole and said, “Mr. Matthews.”
“What gave it away?” Logan asked.
“Your scar. We were briefed on your physical appearance before we took off. I’m Chief Sorenson, SEAL Team Six.” Sounds of more suppressed automatic weapons fire carried across the battleground. “And we need to get you two out of here as soon as possible. We’ve got rotary support on standby, but I don’t think we want to bring it in here. God knows how many guards are scrambling toward us now, and we don’t need to lose a bird. We need to get through this building and get some distance between us and this place.”
“Chief, I know how we can get out of here, and we won’t have to walk anywhere,” Cole said. “When they dragged us in here, we came through a tunnel behind that corrugated metal door,” he said, pointing to the tunnel. “It leads to the front of the prison, but more importantly, there’s a jeep and a cargo truck inside.”
“Exactly. Why walk when you can drive?” Logan added.
Logan watched Chief Sorenson quickly calculate his options. He spoke into a throat microphone, “Serpent Actual, this is Serpent Bravo. We have both packages alive and well. There’s a tunnel behind the metal door in the center of the south wall. They say there are vehicles there. Recommend we rendezvous at the door, breech, and get the hell out of here. Recommend overwatch teams go down the outside and meet us at the entrance. How copy?”
There was a pause as the chief waited for a response. The second SEAL in Chief Sorenson’s team suddenly opened fire and dropped a guard with a machete who must have thought he was invisible. Two bullets from the SEAL’s submachine gun ended his not-so-stealthy approach.
“Roger, Actual. See you there,” Chief Sorenson said, and nodded. He looked at Logan, unexpectedly grinned, and said, “How does it feel for a Marine to be rescued by the Navy?”
“Hey, I thought you just came to give me a ride,” Logan quipped back. “Isn’t that what you guys do anyway? Take Marines to the fight?”
“And use them as sex slaves on ship. Don’t forget about that,” the SEAL said. “But we can discuss male bondage later. Let’s just get you the hell out of here.”
“You guys are all fucking crazy. You know that, right?” Cole asked Logan.
“Hey! Don’t look at me. He started it,” Logan said.
“Guns up, gentlemen. Let’s go,” Chief Sorenson said, serious once more as he took point. He and the second SEAL led the way out of the corner, moving directly toward the garage door across the open courtyard.
Gunfire erupted from the shattered windows of the control tower, and bullets struck the dirt to their right. Logan heard a scream as either a guard or a prisoner was hit, and he looked over to see a form writhing on the ground in pain. Indiscriminate fire. Nice, assholes.
Several suppressed weapons returned fire, and the guard’s weapon ceased chattering. These guys do know how to shoot, he thought, knowing in truth that SEAL Team Six—now renamed the United States Naval Special Warfare Development Group, DEVGRU for short, although it was still referred to by the outdated moniker—had some of the best shooters in the world.
An eerie silence had fallen over the entire scene. The guards had either fled or were in hiding in the shadows of the courtyard from the assault force. The prisoners who’d assembled as fight fans had scattered throughout the confined space, and Logan heard rapid conversations in Arabic and other languages. The initial panic was over, and now everyone inside—including Logan—waited to see how the incursion would end.
They passed the Everlast ring to their left, weapons up and searching for threats.
“Yeeeaaaagghhhh!!!”
Logan sensed movement to his left, and his lightning-quick reflexes reacted. He dove to his right as his peripheral vision detected an enormous shape. Logan aimed the AK-47 in the general direction of his attacker and fired.
Crack!
As the single shot rang out, Logan realized who it was—the giant.
The killer’s spiked bat smashed into the barrel of Logan’s AK-47, knocking it out of his hands and rendering the weapon useless.
Fucker almost got me.
The giant stood in front of him momentarily, illuminated by the faint, increasing glow from inside the building as more lights were turned on in response to the ongoing battle. He scowled with obvious contempt and stepped toward Logan—and faltered. He looked down at his stomach and then back up.
Something’s wrong, Logan realized, squinting through the darkness. Light flashed off a slick surface on the giant’s torso. Blood.
Logan’s shot had hit the mark, even as he had evaded the giant’s attack. Tough luck, motherfucker. It’s time to end your reign of terror.
“Knife now!” Logan shouted instinctively.
“Catch!” came a voice from his left. Logan redirected his eyes, keeping the giant in his line of sight, as an elongated object sailed toward him. The giant stared at the object as it flew through the air past him.
A look of fury appeared on his face as he recognized what it was, and he stepped forward to attack—only to collapse to his knees in the dark dirt. He grunted as the black patch of blood spread across his entire torso.
Logan snatched the object out of the air and looked down to see the black handle of a combat knife with a four-inch tanto blade, now held in his right hand with the angled tip pointed forward.
“Not the people’s champion after all, are you?” Logan spat out.
The giant knelt in front of him, motionless, still holding the spiked bat in his right hand. His breathing was labored, and he hung his head, the beard touching his chest.
The bullet must’ve punctured a lung, Logan thought.
A loud cheer roared through the assembled spectators at the sacrifice about to be made at their twisted altar of violence.
Logan stepped around the fallen giant and pressed his legs into the giant’s back, placing his hand on top of the killer’s head. He leaned over and said, “This is for that poor SOB you killed earlier today, as well as for all the others you’ve butchered.” The giant moaned, which was acknowledgment enough for Logan.
Logan plunged the blade into the right side of the giant’s neck and twisted his wrist, opening the deep gash for maximum effect. Warm blood sprayed across his hand and shot several feet into the air in a dark, spectral mist. Logan withdrew the blade, and the blood pumped out of the man’s neck onto the dirt.
There was a hushed silence as the giant who’d tormented and killed the inmates of the Black Hole bled out in spectacular, horrific fashion. After a few moments of suspended gore, he fell facedown, his hands still at his sides, dead.
The first two prisoners who’d approached the two combatants stared at Logan in dumbstruck amazement. Logan even spotted a guard looking at him in disbelief. The guard felt the rage in Logan’s gaze and averted his eyes, hands raised in front of him as if pleading for mercy.
Before anyone could react, Logan raised his voice and declared, “I don’t know if you understand me, but this monster can’t torment you anymore. We’re getting out of this place, and I suggest you do the same.”
Logan wiped the blade on his pants, removing most of the blood, and turned to Chief Sorenson, offering the blade back to its owner.
Chief Sorenson stared at him with respect and admiration.
“No. You keep it,” he said. “You earned it.”
“Thanks. Now let’s get the hell out of here. I don’t think we’ll have any more resistance.”
“You think?” Cole said. “After that display, I’m pretty sure no one’s going to try and stop us.”
“I agree,” Chief Sorenson said. “Now let’s go find those vehicles and get the hell out of here, once and for all.”
They set off again for the tunnel, this time without gunfire or random, potshot attacks. As they crossed the remaining distance, the prisoners cheered them on, shouting praises and clapping. Logan had won freedom, not only for himself, but also for all of them. He was their champion now, even if only for a short time, and they intended to shower him with the respect he’d earned through blood and glory.