Free SEAL Team Bravo: Black Ops IV by Eric Meyer

could be survivors. We have to go check them out.”
    Mariko Noguchi jumped up, only to be dragged back down into the dirt as Nolan reached up an arm and yanked hard.
    “I said get down!” he snarled.
    She stayed down this time, and habit made him check the load on his SWS. He had a full clip of 7.62mm ammunition, which was as it should be. It was time to go to work. He sighted through the Leupold Vari-X mildot riflescope, and the first enemy loomed large in the precision glass lenses. He squeezed off two shots, and a missile shooter went down. Two more rounds sped out of the barrel, and the missile reloader followed his master into paradise. The other missile shooter and the loader ducked behind cover as they realized the danger, but Nolan kept searching for targets, and he kept up a steady rate of accurate fire that kept the missile shooters heads down. Three uniformed Afghan riflemen went down, and then he ran out of targets. But now the enemy had got his range, and the machine gunner, firing a heavy .50 caliber M2, also American supplied, opened up on their position. The loader was carefully feeding the ammunition belt through the breech, and more .50 caliber rounds than Nolan cared to count hammered all around the shallow trough of ground he sheltered in with the Captain, throwing debris and chunks of concrete to rain on them like a heavy shower. To her credit, she didn’t flinch, even though she had neither a Kevlar helmet nor an armored vest. Not that Nolan’s armor would help him; the .50 caliber rounds were enough to pierce an APC.   Personal armor was no contest for the Browning machine gun. He realized she was trying to say something above the racket of machine gun bullets smashing into the ground and nearby buildings; the roar of mortar shells as they exploded, and the crack of assault rifles as both sides exchanged fire.
    “What was that?” he shouted back, not looking around at her.
    “I said they’re our Allies!”
    “You don’t say! With allies like these, we sure don’t need to go looking for any enemies.”
    “But…”
    “Shut the fuck up, and stay low. Don’t move, and don’t follow me.”
    He regretted the language as soon as he’d opened his mouth, but he was angry she was in position of maximum danger, and he wanted her to stay put.
    “Where are you going?”
    “That machine gun, it’ll hurt our boys badly when they try to take it on. I’m going after it.”
    He didn’t wait for a reply. Nolan put his rifle down in the dirt, got to his feet, and ran crouched over. The machine gun was too well concealed for a sniper shot, but he had grenades clipped to his webbing. He still hadn’t checked in from the last mission. It was time to put them to good use, and the only way to kill the enemy was close up and personal. The perimeter fence was already breached, obviously in preparation for a serious infiltration. He thought of the security lockdown. It couldn’t be a coincidence. They were here to kill Hamid Karzai, or maybe Chutani Muhammad, the Pakistani Minister of Foreign Affairs, perhaps both of them. He saw a window of opportunity, as the Afghan gunner shifted his aim to easier targets, a group of MPs armed with M-16 A4s, running toward the action from the guardhouse next to the main gates. The MPs dived for cover as the hail of fire churned up the ground around them. Nolan couldn’t see if any of them were hit, and besides, he had other concerns. He had to get inside the arc of fire before the gunner spotted him and turned the heavy weapon around. The breath seared in his lungs as he pounded on at a record breaking, heart bursting pace. The pain in his chest rose higher as he pressed forward, putting every ounce of his energy and strength into the sprint. Maybe it wouldn’t have been enough to break any Olympic records, but he reflected it must have come close, especially for a guy wearing armor and a helmet. He was almost there, almost at the first truck that would give him cover