Operation Wild Tarpan Read Free Page B

trying to talk his way through the situation with his superiors, seemed aware of what the problem was.
    A few minutes later another two of Stockman’s Bravos pulled up, disgorging their troops and rolling forward to form a mobile barricade in front of Switchblade’s sandbags.
    “ Merde !” du Trieux yelped. “Stockman’s bringing in tanks!”
    Miller cycled channels on his earpiece until he heard Northwind and Lewis.
    “ —ow many? ”
    “ Four M1A4 Abrams. ”
    “ Just a platoon? ” Lewis rasped.
    “ I, er... ”
    “ Four tanks is a platoon—that’s all there is? ”
    “ That’s what’s moving into Manhattan. There were another eight that haven’t crossed the river yet. ”
    That added up to a tank company, and if they were on the opposite side of the river, in New Jersey, that could only be to provide covering fire. Miller checked with du Trieux, but the Northwind operator hadn’t bothered tracking the other eight with the dwindling number of drones.
    “ Goddamn, ” Lewis muttered.
    Goddamn was right.
    Miller listened in while Lewis called Harris for instructions, but while he did, Stockman’s forces continued to move. The other checkpoints in the cordon were relatively calm, just following orders, but the situation around the command squad was worsening by the second.
    More of Stockman’s soldiers arrived. They got out of their Bravos, dragging their rifles with them, and were almost immediately swallowed by a growing mob of infantrymen. Within seconds they were red-faced and ranting too, spitting insults down the avenue. The only surprise when the first gunshot came was that it took so long to brew.
    A soldier huddling behind the cover of his Bravo simply stood up, sighted down the avenue, and fired. Switchblade were sandbagged down, but enough of them were peeking over the top to leave a target—two security man went down screaming, and those screams, as much as anything else, ignited the infantry mob’s bloodlust.
    Miller knew soldiers never reacted all that quickly. Orders took time to sink in. Troops gathered up in position before making their move, and time got wasted waiting for one jackass or another to understand what was going on.
    And in every simulated firefight Miller had been through in training, the rule of thumb was to walk or crawl towards gunfire. You only ever ran to get away from it.
    But the Infected exploded down the avenue, toward the sandbagged security troops, sprinting like a wave.
    Bravos lurched forward, set to rolling as mobile barricades. Troops fired from around the corners as soldiers ran from the moving Bravo to the next in a chain of screaming hatred that shed infantry at every speck of cover that could be fired from.
    No orderly bounding overwatch here. Every single one of those soldiers were psychopaths racing through fire like men possessed, heedless of whether they were being covered or not, heedless of whether they were being shot at.
    But the Switchblade unit were professionals. Behind their sandbags they had the superior position, but the Infected had numbers and willpower and a shitload more coordination. By the time Switchblade were ranked up against the sandbags in orderly firing lines, shooting back with the snap and crackle of automatic gunfire, the Infected were hurling grenades and following their grenades over the sandbags within a heartbeat of detonation.
    They were overrun so quickly Miller audibly gasped.
    Assaults did not begin that goddamn fast. They couldn’t . And for every member of the Infected who was wounded or killed, dozens more flooded in from every direction.
    “ We need fire support! ” Lewis shouted over the radio. “ Where the hell’s that goddamn attack helicopter now? ”
    “ Air support’s taking off. ” The Northwind operator’s voice was hitched, unsteady. “ They’ll be there soon. It’ll be fine. ” She clearly didn’t believe it.
    “ Miller! Insurance policy, now! We’re pulling out! ”
    “Roger that,