CAIRO, EGYPT
Edward Russell’s legs were burning, but he didn’t dare slow down. Sporadic small-arms fire coming from outside the ditch kept his adrenaline flowing, but Russell’s breathing had become labored. He was getting weaker, each new step harder than the previous one.
Keep going. Don’t stop.
Russell quickened his stride, knowing that if he stopped, it would be impossible to start again. Oliver, who had ceased responding to Russell’s probes, had lost a lot of blood. If he didn’t get Oliver to a hospital soon, he would die. Forty yards ahead was another bend, and the slant out of the ditch wasn’t as pronounced. He pushed himself to go faster, his legs screaming in protest.
AK-47 automatic fire erupted to his left, much closer this time, and Russell unconsciously ducked, which caused him to lose his balance. With Oliver still on his shoulders, Russell crashed to the ground in a cloud of wet sand and gravel, with little stones biting into the side of his face and forehead as the air exploded out of his lungs. Agony radiated through his ribs, but he refused to give up. Trembling uncontrollably, he got up, and, summoning the rest of his strength, hoisted an unconscious Oliver onto his shoulders.
Russell managed only a few more steps before he stumbled on a loose rock and twisted his ankle, nearly causing him to fall again. He recovered, but thanks to the extra weight on his shoulders, blew his knee out in the process. He uttered a loud grunt filled with frustration as he crashed against the sidewall of the ditch and landed on his ass next to Oliver, who had slid off his shoulders.
Close by, gunfire continued to rage, but the sounds were somewhat different than they had been only seconds ago. The deep barks of Kalashnikovs were still present, but another weapon had joined the mix. The bursts sounded more controlled. More precise.
M4s?
Then, from around the bend, two figures appeared in front of Russell, approaching in combat crouches, assault rifles steady in their hands. Two more men showed up on the crest.
“Mr. Russell?” one of the figures asked.
But Russell didn’t reply. He couldn’t speak. He was only aware of the sudden flow of tears in his eyes as he recognized the uniform the men were wearing.
“Sir, I’m Captain Parsons, United States Marine Corps. We got you.”