Echo Six: Black Ops 6 - Battle for Beirut Read Free Page B

another shell exploded. Smoke and debris rained down over them. Then something bigger, a huge chunk of masonry, smashed down onto Hannah's head, and she crumpled to the ground. Nava dragged her friend inside and slammed the door shut, pushing the heavy iron bolts closed.
    The stairway was dark, but there was a little light entering from ventilation slots set into the wall at ground level. She managed to half-drag, half-carry the girl to the base of the steps where there was a small room, some kind of a storeroom. She put her friend on the floor and put her ear to the girl's mouth to check for breathing. Nothing. She put her finger on the large artery in her neck and waited. Still nothing.
    "Hannah! " she wailed, "You can't die. You can't. We’re going to Israel."
    She knelt down and started mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, and when there was still no breathing, began the CPR she'd learned as a medical student. But after almost half an hour, there was still no sign of life. She sat on the floor, horrified by the knowledge that her friend was dead, and she was alone in the middle of a war-torn city.
    She thought of everything she'd been through, a lifetime as a fugitive, hiding from the Syrian authorities. Then the miraculous turnabout that gave her, her family, and neighbors the chance to go to the Promised Land; to make Aliyah, the return to Israel. The country denied to the Jewish people for two thousand years, ever since the Diaspora. And then there was Abe.
    It was about to end here, in this squalid basement, for Hannah was already dead, so what chance did she have? She had little doubt she would go the same way, the moment she tried to escape to make her way back to Beirut International. She could feel the tears starting to prick at her eyes, but then a new emotion swept over her. Anger, and determination. Her back straightened, and her head came up.
    No way will they beat me!
    She'd stay down here for several hours until nightfall. Then, she'd creep back through the rubble-strewn streets and find her way to the airport. Yes, that's how she'd get away. She sat on the floor next to her friend.
    How will I get the body home for a proper burial? Who will sit Shiva for Hannah?
    Perhaps she could hide the body and come back later. In the meantime, she tried to remember the words of Kaddish, the Jewish prayer for the dead. She couldn't focus, couldn't recall the rite, and once more she almost wept at the terrible stroke of fate that had killed the poor girl lying next to her.
    She almost lost consciousness, falling into a half-trance induced by the stress and hopelessness of the situation. It didn't last long. Her mind snapped back to the reality of her situation. Hannah was dead, and nothing could alter that. But she was alive, and it was her duty to try and stay alive. She checked her watch; the time was already mid-afternoon. It would be dark in a few hours, and she could make her way back through the shattered city to the airport. She began planning the route in her head, working out the best way to tackle it.
    I’ll beat the bastards, no matter what they throw at me.
    The thought at least gave her some satisfaction amidst the despair of the dank basement.
    Someone banged on the door. She looked up, praying for them to go away, but they banged again. Then she heard a chorus of shouts in Arabic. Maybe it was the men who'd pursued them earlier, so they hadn't given up yet. At least the door was strong, so with any luck it would hold them. The banging stopped, and she breathed a sigh of relief, until it started again. This time she knew they meant business.
    They'd brought up a battering ram or a sledgehammer. She looked around wildly for a means of escape, but it was a dead end, and the only way in or out was through that door. The woodwork was shaking with each blow from outside. She calculated it wouldn't take them more than a few minutes to smash it open. She had only one option left. Hide. She looked around the basement and