This mission had failed miserably. But it was rare that the team completed a mission first-time round. It was a game. You fail, you have another go. Tom’s strategy had been all wrong. Next time, Zak would keep the three of them together.
Voices snapped him out of his line of thought. They were foreign, the General’s soldiers patrolling nearby. The game had carried on without his active involvement. Maybe there was still a chance he could do something.
Zak wanted to win. He recognised himself again.
A new thought entered his head. He was ambitious. He wanted to be a professional V-Commando. But would achieving that really satisfy him? Maybe he wanted more out of life.
It was time to bring the game to a conclusion. He was coping, but the pain was still deeply unpleasant. Rather than wait there and die alone, he would make one last, if futile attack.
He put all his effort into scrambling out of the hole. His limbs flailed, and not every one was capable of applying force. But as he pushed, the snow gave way, and he tumbled out and onto hard ice. Right at the feet of a soldier.
‘Hey!’ shouted the soldier with alarm, alerting two comrades also in the area.
Zak sprang to his feet.
The soldier brought his rifle up, but Zak was on him, slamming into his chest and headbutting him in the mouth. It was crude, but it knocked the soldier off balance. Zak felt him slip on the ice.
As they lurched together, Zak got a hand to the barrel, and parried it. The gun went off, sweeping a burst of automatic fire across the direction of an approaching comrade. Down he went.
As they spun round, Zak bore the weight of the soldier. He skidded as he tried to stay upright. The remaining soldier came into view, lining up his sights – Zak let himself fall.
More shots cracked out. Zak heard a cry in his ear.
As the soldier rolled over him, Zak was pulled up onto his feet. He had his left hand on the barrel of the gun, the soldier had let go, and his comrade was reloading. What a chance this was!
