Free Survivalist - 21.5 - The Legend by Jerry Ahern Page A

others did, too. Some of the Germans and Chinese mumbling were words that didn’t fit, but
    keeping to the tune.
    They were at the gates now, the electric gullwing car that was their battering ram, punching through the fence, its windows riddled with bullets, the man driving it probably dead.
    The Soviet forces fell back from the fence, but held their ground near a knot of gullwing cars parked near to the gates.
    Darkwood didn’t know the second verse to the song, just started singing the first verse again.
    Everyone was singing, now, and the words no longer were even distinguishable and, as they ran, weapons firing, they fell into step, charging toward the Soviet Marine Spetznas position.
    They closed with the enemy.
    At point blank range, Jason Darkwood fired the Lancer 9mm pistol into the chest and neck of a Marine Spetznas officer coming at him with an AKM-96. Two enlisted men charged toward him and Darkwood backstepped, firing the Lancer again, putting down one of the men, sidestepping and using the knife in his hand like a club, crashing the blade flat down across the skull of the second man.
    Two Marine Spetznas officers were inside an already moving gullwing car, the doors open.
    Darkwood thrust his pistol into his belt and picked up an AKM-96, fisting the weapon in his right hand, bracing the stock between his right elbow and hip. He fired, spraying out the magazine in three-round full-auto bursts, killing the man behind the wheel of the gullwing, the car crashing into the tunnel wall just beyond.
    From the corner of his eye, Darkwood spotted the senior among all the Marine Spetznas officers he had seen so far, and Darkwood summoned two of the Marines near him, racing toward the man. A Soviet enlisted man lunged with his bayonet, just missing Darkwood’s right rib cage. Darkwood fired out the last half-dozen rounds in the AKM-96’s magazine, putting the man down.
    The Marine Spetznas officer, back to a gullwing car, raised his hands and shouted in Russian, “Do not shoot!”
    Jason Darkwood threw down the emptied Soviet assault rifle and pointed the muzzle of his pistol toward the Soviet officer. “Sir, in the name of the United States Government of Mid-Wake and Allied Expeditionary Force command, I order you to instruct your men to lay down their arms and cease hostilities at once or suffer the consequences.”
    Darkwood cocked the hammer on the pistol and smiled.
    With a tremulous voice, the Marine Spetznas officer began to shout to his men.
    And Jason Darkwood decided it was safe to lower the hammer on his pistol…
    She was already through the knees of her stockings, and her bare knees were cold against the street surface as she crept toward the very faint outline of a man. Although every light was out, some very mffused illumination came through the tunnel from the gray outside, and when she was very careful, she could make out some shapes.
    This shape was clearly human. She went after it with her knife …
    His light sensitivity had always been a problem for him during daylight hours, requiring him to use sunglasses ever since his early teens whenever he was in strong sunshine. But, on the plus side, his night vision had always been superb.
    He could see now, just barely enough to know that he had his plastique reasonably evenly spaced along the massive green door.
    And he stood beside the door, with much difficulty because of his wounded left thigh.
    The quickest way to one of the energy weapons was to walk straight up the middle of the driveway. Of course, if the lights came back on, he would be a sitting duck.
    He decided to risk it, while his leg still held out. With the added time the darkness had given him, he’d been able to utilize all the plastique in a manner which would obviate ever having to go inside the building.
    The pattern and density with which he had been able to plant the charges would do the job he’d intended to do with the other half of his plastique and the grenades, destroying