More soldiers arrived in the doorway. Zak picked them off before they could take a position. He held the machine gun up to use the sight. He could see the flash of each bullet leaving the barrel, and the spent cartridges flying out to the side. Rather than fire continuously, he darted around behind the desk and fired in short bursts when he saw any body part on show.
He was in both a thrill and a panic at this. Himself and Tom holed up in an enemy compound, fighting a raging battle. It was the stuff of dreams. But unlike his previous experiences, this was distressing. As he gripped the gun tightly, he found his right elbow was the dominant pain, but he was shivering violently with the cold, barely able to feel the gun in his hands. He was still choking and hobbling, and the noise was drowning out his attempt at concentration. Despite these afflictions, he judged himself to be making a good fist of the battle so far.
The soldiers kept coming. Zak wondered if the entire army was going to get mown down in this doorway. The latest soldiers to arrive on the scene were crouching behind the pile of dead bodies for cover. Zak noticed that a significant amount of blood had been spilled, and the dark red glistened. How much longer could this go on?
No longer, as the enemy changed its approach. An object was thrown into the room towards Tom. It was only the size of a pebble. It bounced off the top of the cabinet, hit the wall behind him and fell into his lap. He didn’t see it until too late. It exploded with a flash of strobe light, and a low throb. Zak had shut his eyes in time, and opened them to see Tom sway around then lurch into the centre of the room.
‘Tom!’ shouted Zak. But Tom was completely disorientated. A soldier opened fire on him from outside the doorway. He was thrown back against the wall, and hit it with a thump, making a tremendous groan on impact. Zak winced. But Tom didn’t fall over. Instead, he fumbled for his gun, and let fly with a spray of bullets. As he did so, the response was more fire from outside.
