Escape The 1st Omnibus: WTF Books 1-3 Read Free

a light shirt. Brad could see she had taken several shots from Méndez’s rifle and her wounds were covered in fresh blood. She also had several deep cuts and at least one older bullet wound in her abdomen.
    “What is this?” Méndez said. Brad turned and saw Méndez standing behind him.
    “I don’t know, man, but I know we killed them. Maybe it’s a bio weapon, you know terrorist are always into some crazy shit.”
    “You heard from the convoy?” asked Méndez.
    “No man, I’m kind of hoping the radio is out. My antenna looks like it was ripped off. Last I heard they were engaging a mob. I hope it’s not the same shit we just saw. How’s your gunner?”
    “He’s bad, Sergeant. Those things tried to pull him out of the hatch. He had his harness on, but they still dislocated his shoulder. Looks like one of them took a bite out of his forearm too.”
    Brad walked over to Méndez’s truck. They had Private First Class Ryan laid out in the back. Ryan had sweat dripping off of him and a tourniquet on his arm. Méndez’s medic and driver, Specialist Eric, was treating him.
    Eric looked up when he saw Brad. “I don’t get it, Sarge. He’s burning up with fever. He hasn’t woken up since he passed out after the attack. I started an IV, but I don’t think it’s helping.”
    “Okay … Good job soldier, just do the best you can. We’re going to mount up and try to get back to the convoy. We’ll get him help soon.”
    Beep Beep Beep . Brad turned his attention to his MRAP. Henry was beating the horn. He leaned his head out of the window and frantically yelled, “Sergeant, they’re back about five thousand meters and on the run.”
    “Cole! Get that gun up, suppress and take them out!” Brad yelled.
    “On the way, Sergeant,” Cole answered as he racked the M2 machine gun, chambered a round, and then pointed it in the direction of the approaching mob.
    “Méndez, mount up and get ready to move,” Brad ordered.
    Thump, thump, thump, thump. Cole had started firing his big gun while Brad climbed into his seat and secured his door. He watched Méndez’s truck pull around and angle behind him.
    “Let’s go! Back to the convoy, Henry. Cole, keep pouring it on them!” shouted Brad.
    He looked back through the window and could see the mob cresting the hill just meters from where they had been. Cole was knocking them down with the big gun; pausing only to reload. Brad saw some of them moving on the ground and then get back up. ‘What the hell?’ he thought. ‘Nobody takes a fifty caliber round and survives.’ He looked through his scope and saw a man limping down the road with a softball-size holed near his hip, but he was still trying to jog after them. After about five yards, the man fell flat on his face. Eventually the pack faded from view and Brad ordered Cole to cease fire.
    Henry spoke first. “Sergeant, how is that possible? We are almost ten miles from the FOB and those things caught up with us. They aren’t Kenyans, Sarge! Nobody is that fast, they didn’t even look tired.”
    “I don’t know, Henry. I shot that guy six times before he went down. Cole was tearing that crowd apart with the big gun, and I swear I saw some of them get back up. Let’s just keep it together and we’ll figure this out.”
    Brad spoke into the internal radio, “Méndez, take point and recon ahead. I don’t want any surprises up front.”
    The more maneuverable Humvee passed the MRAP and pulled away. Méndez’s truck was far ahead now and running as a scout, staying just within sight of Brad.
    They drove for close to an hour without seeing anything or hearing a word on the radio. It was getting late and the sun was beginning to crest the mountains. Brad knew they would only have another hour or so of daylight.
    “ Sergeant, I can see the convoy. I’m stopping,” squelched the radio.
    “Roger that, Méndez, we’ll hang back. What can you see?” asked Brad.
    “ Not good, Sarge, I can see the vehicles, looks