Barry Sadler - Casca 16, page 13
Stepping over the body of Sims, he saw that his rocket shell had torn a hole the size of man’s fist in the other man’s body. There were also several holes where bullets had exited. The blood was already turning dark brown as it dried. Flies had begun to gather in swarms on the dead men’s wounds, forming black moving clots.
Sunni Ali bent over to grab the dark man by his tunic. He wanted to see this one’s face, also. It was important to him to see each of them in order to understand why they had chosen to stand and die, for surely they had known that death would be their fate.
Shoving the body to where it would roll over on its side, Sunni Ali tried to jerk back his hand instinctively but it was caught. Held.
Dominic pulled Sunni Ali to the earth with him. His face was covered with a fine layer of dust. Blood mottled and dried on cracked lips, he was a picture of hell. He had the face of a djinn or a madman. Only his eyes were sane. He held Sunni Ali close to his face, holding him down under him. Sunni Ali yelled for help as he struck at his captor’s face with his fist. The creature holding him laughed, hacking out blood clots from his ruptured lungs.
Sunni Ali had one quick look before he felt a strange, hard weight on his chest. The creature had stuffed a hand grenade in his jellaba. Frantic, he tried to gouge out the devil’s eyes. But it would not let go. He had only seconds before the grenade would explode. His hand slid his curved dagger from its ornate sheath held in the waistband of his robes. Once! Twice! A third time he sank the knife full to its hilt in the maniac’s side, back, and neck, but still it would not let go.
Their time was up. Dominic’s hands loosened a split second before the blast. He smiled at Sunni Ali, who had begun his prayer. “Allah is God, the only God, and Mohammed is His proph-” He never finished. The grenade ended his pleas.
The muffled sounds of fighting followed them through the pass. The survivors avoided each other’s eyes. Gus drove on, stone-faced. They would not stop till they reached Fort Laperrine in the Ahaggar Mountains. There wasn’t anything back there to wait for.
Langers felt numb. It was always this way. Others died but he went on. Dominic, Sharif Mamud, Monpelier, the others …
Opening a crusted eyelid, he watched Gus’s face for a moment. One day Gus, too, would die. And still he, Casca alias Langers alias … would continue. When that day came it would hurt a great deal, for he would truly be alone again.
Outside the Land Rover desert winds whistled, shifting grains of sand. The Sahara waited also, timeless, patient.
Bitterly Langers shook his head to clear it. Men spoke of killing time. That was wrong. It was time that killed. And no one knew that better than Casca Rufio Longinus, or, as he was known to some, al-Kattel -- the killer.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Desert Mercenary, Barry Sadler - Casca 16
