Free SEAL Team Bravo: Black Ops IV by Eric Meyer Page A

from the machine gun. He snatched two grenades and pulled out the clips. And then the gunner saw him. The barrel started to traverse, as if in slow motion, nearer and nearer. He tried to estimate if he’d make it, or should he dive for the ground and hope he was beneath the next hail of bullets that came his way. It was close, too close. But the ground offered no real cover; he’d still be easy meat. And then the barrel stopped, and he was staring into a round, black hole. As he ran, he waited for the heavy lead that was about to spit out and tear his body to pieces. There was no way he could make it. The thunder of gunfire made him flinch, and he froze, waiting for the impact of heavy caliber bullets tearing him apart. But he reached the truck unscathed, and when he looked around, he saw an astonishing sight. Captain Mariko Noguchi was in process of making a single-handed charge on the Afghan gun, her M-16 A4 firing short, three-round bursts at the machine gun. The gunner saw her, stopped firing, and ducked down to avoid bursts of fire that clanged off the metalwork of the truck he sheltered behind. Noguchi’s bullets clanged off the engine block, and the Afghan realized he was safe from the new attack. He began to traverse the barrel back around to destroy this crazy American who seemed to have a death wish. Nolan saw it all happening and didn’t pause for a fraction of a second to work out what was happening. Everything he did was instinctive after thousands of hours training, hundred of hours fighting the enemy in missions the world over. The M67 grenades had spherical steel bodies each containing 6.5 ounces of Composition B explosive. Weighing a total of 14 ounces, the lethal objects sailed through the air in an unerring arc, straight toward the intended target.
    “Get the fuck down!” he shouted back to Noguchi. At the same time, he dragged out his Sig and leapt around the side of the truck, ducking down away from the spread of the fragments as the grenades went off. The twin explosions were huge, and he felt himself lifted off his feet by the blast. The gun had stopped firing. There was no way they could have survived that blast. He ducked as a snapshot whistled past his head. An Afghan soldier was peering around the side of the truck, looking for a target. He risked a quick glance back the way he’d come and saw to his relief that Captain Noguchi was still alive. He could see her huge black eyes watching him from where she’d dived to the ground.
    For Christ’s sake, keep your pretty little head down. You did well. They’d have killed me without that crazy charge of yours, but now they know you’re there, and they’ll want revenge.
    He was out of grenades. All he had left was his Sig and his combat knife, which was not ideal against troops armed with M-16s. He heard Mariko Noguchi firing again, the characteristic three-shot bursts of 5.56mm rounds from her M-16 A4. The Afghans took the bait. There were three of them left, and they leaned around the side of the truck, setting up a furious rate of return fire, intended to kill the infidel who threatened to upset their plans. Once more, she’d given him an opening. He jumped up and zigzagged around the truck to come up behind the Afghans. He hit two of them with a half-dozen shots from the Sig. It was a precision handgun, there was no doubt, but a short-barreled automatic, firing 9mm pistol rounds, definitely had its limitations. He missed the third Afghan, who lifted up his M-16 to kill him. Nolan pulled the trigger, and the Sig jammed. It was the first time ever, probably a result of faulty ammunition, or maybe debris in the mechanism after the last mission. He hadn’t had time to clean and oil his weapons. But a jam was a jam, and in the heat of a fight, a killer.
    The Afghan saw him pull the trigger and that nothing had happened. He smiled, a filthy leering smirk through the rotting stumps of his remaining teeth. He mouthed a few words, probably, ‘this