PART 5
Walsh shouted over the net.
“All units, prepare to push on my mark.”
That was not courage.
That was a suicide note with radio protocol.
I settled behind the rifle.
Breathed once.
Held the world still for half a second.
Then I fired.
The canyon went silent.
Not completely.
War never goes silent.
But the rifle that had owned the ridge stopped speaking.
For three seconds, nobody understood what had happened.
Then Hayes’ voice came over the radio.
“Sniper’s down.”
The TOC erupted behind the net.
Walsh whispered, “Who fired that?”
I shifted to the next target.
A mortar team near a broken stone wall.
Two men moving too fast, too confident, certain they were beyond reach.
They were wrong.
One shot cracked.
Then another.
The mortar tube fell sideways.
Hayes cursed softly.
“Who the hell is up there?”
I keyed my radio.
“Hayes, shift your wounded behind the eastern truck. Walsh, do not push through the center. Your left flank has a washout they haven’t covered.”
Static.
Then Walsh, breathless and confused.
“Who is this?”
I looked through the optic at the canyon mouth.
More fighters were moving in.
“Someone who’s tired of cleaning up after arrogant men.”
A pause.
Then Hayes laughed once, short and stunned.
“Lunch lady?”
Walsh snapped, “Callahan?”
“Move your people, Lieutenant.”
May you like
Something in my voice made him obey.
That was the first smart thing he did all day.
