Free Disavowed by C. G. Cooper Page A

smacked a high five, just like they were on a baseball field and one of them had done a diving catch at short.
    “I told you!” said Johnny.
    Jim shrugged.
    Cal looked at Jonas, suppressing a smile. “Well, I guess they’re in. Now, if we only knew what Andy and Rich were up to.”

Chapter 15
    Somewhere Along Highway 1
    Between Gereshk and Kandahar, Afghanistan
    8:05pm AFT, August 24 th
     
    First came the shouting, enemies ordering their subordinates to rush the convoy. Then came the swivel of spotlights, illuminating the dusty night air, seeking out the Americans. Finally came the unmistakable revving of humvee engines, the assault was coming.
    Latif pulled the two Americans around the left side of the truck, away from the enemy. “We must get to the fifth vehicle.”
    There was a lot of space between them and the fifth vehicle, lots of time to be found and killed.
    “Why?” asked Isnard, crouching low to look under the product laden truck.
    “You will see.”
    Isnard looked up at the Afghan. “Fine. I’ll go first.”
    It was decided that Andy would bring up the rear. While he usually might have protested, he wasn’t too proud to admit that in his weakened state he really shouldn’t be walking point.
    More shouting, large tires crunching their way closer. Heavy machine guns undoubtedly ready, waiting for the Americans to poke their heads out.
    Three vehicles up, Isnard stopped, cocking his head to the side, listening. His head snapped around, a furtive glance to his companions, then he was flat on his stomach, crawling under the truck. Andy and Latif followed.
    Crowded behind the front right tire, the three men watched as Latif’s men were ordered to their knees, hands on their heads. Only one man, a boy really, resisted, receiving a crushing blow to the head from his aggressor’s rifle. The boy crumpled. Andy knew he was dead.
    If there was any hesitation in Andy to fire on Afghan forces, it left him a moment later. The same military and police units he and thousands of coalition troops had trained, men who’d sworn to uphold liberty and freedom, leveled their weapons. Every one of Latif’s men were cut down by not one but two humvee mounted machine guns along with the ground troops. In twenty seconds it was over. Andy knew because he felt and counted each one. Tick, tick, tick…
    Latif pounded the ground with his fist, letting out a barely audible moan. Pure anguish. A common smuggler with transient contractors didn’t mourn. Andy knew in that extended moment that Latif had family in the pile of murdered boys. Family now gone forever.
    Something in the Marine snapped. Any weariness he’d felt left him. It was like the air throbbed, thumping in his ears.
    His gaze met Isnard’s. They nodded and shuffled back the way they’d come.
    With Latif regaining his composure and now bringing up the rear, the three men snuck from shadow to shadow. It was only a matter of time before the opposition came around to their side of the convoy, but for now they were being cautious. The bastards called to them, threatening and taunting. As if they’d just throw up their hands in surrender after seeing so many killed so quickly. They didn’t know the Marines they were dealing with.
    The familiar adrenaline rush coursed through Andy’s veins, smell, vision and touch all heightened, drop by drop the bucket filled. Somehow they made it to the fifth vehicle, Latif scrambling in the cargo flap. It felt like forever before the merchant’s head popped out, followed by his hands holding a pair of rocket propelled grenades (RPGs). The Marines each took one, prepping the weapons without thinking.
    In under a minute the three men had twelve RPGs stacked on the ground and three more in their hands. The tricky part was going to be the back blast. More than a few idiots had killed comrades by thinking nothing was coming out the back.
    “We need to get on top of the trucks,” said Andy, realizing that the tightly parked trucks