When Logan Kyle and his team of hardened Navy SEALs veterans are called upon to take down the leader of an extremist religious sect, they believe it is just business as usual. Little do they know that their lives and those of everybody else in the w...
Something heavy slammed into the reinforced steel doors, causing dust to trickle from the ceiling. Yet the door held... so far.
"Fuck!" Mack shouted, jumping back from the heavy double doors. "Must be that cunt that got the commander... Bollocks! What are these things, LT?"
"Hell if I know," Logan said, breathing hard. The last fifty paces had been a dead sprint and he had almost felt the creatures snapping at his heels.
Straightening up, he cast his gaze around, taking everything in: the rough concrete walls that stretched deeper into the building, the tension in his comrade's faces, Stormy who was checking on Shipley and... footprints?
He lowered himself down on one knee, wiping dust from the lens of his night-vision. The rough concrete ground was covered in an array of footprints—few of them human. To his surprise, they did not lead into the building, but out of it.
"I'll be damned," Logan whispered.
"LT..." Stormy said, looking up from his work on Shipley. "He's... he's gone. That thing did not only sever his artery, it ripped it out. He must have died while we fell back..." The wound in his neck was a wet glistening ragged hole, at least an inch deep. Very little blood was seeping from it.
"Fucking bastards..." Rawls growled, kicking the wall. In response, something barreled against the door, causing the soldier to jump back, and sending more dust to fall from the ceiling.
Logan stood up, casting a solemn gaze around. "We can't stay here. Those bastards smell Shipley's blood. It drives them crazy. We need to get deeper inside, see if we can find a room that is easily defendable, and then call out of here. Ralls!"
"Yes-sir!"
"I want you to place two claymores. One here, the other at the end of the corridor... That should get them something to think about if they breach through."
"What the fuck is this?" Sawman uttered.
Logan turned around, following Sawman's gaze. It was pitch-black inside the building and they would have been blind if not for their night-vision, which probably was the reason that none so far had noticed the white arrow painted on the wall. It pointed deeper into the building and above it stood. "Follow me."
"This is getting better by the fucking minute," Stormy growled.
"It's a trap," Mack said.
"No shit Sherlock..."
"Yeah fuck you too, Royal."
"Quiet!" Logan snapped. "Don't forget who you are... This is a bad situation, but nothing we can't handle. Stormy, we take Shipley with us. I don't want these things to lay their hands on him. Mack, take point again and put your room sweeper to good use."
"Aye, time to do some cleaning," the read-bearded man said, loading the shotgun mounted under his assault rifle.
"Seals! Let's move out!" Logan growled.
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