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The door flung open and three men stumbled through. I killed the first two easily, my bullets tearing them to pieces. Their bodies fell on top of the third man, and so I was forced to get up close. He fired back at me, missing, hitting the ceiling as I kicked away one of the bodies and plunged my knife into his heart.
I whirled, gun ready, as the man beneath the bodies expired. Nobody came out, but the shouts were still happening. I looked in through the window and saw Omar’s group scattered, down to three men, the parents, and Omar himself. They were pressed up against the wall, and it looked like Travis couldn’t get a line on them.
But I could. I kicked open the door and fired at the thugs, killing two instantly as I rolled, coming up behind a control console. They returned fire, but it bit uselessly into the steel panels.
“Hold your fucking fire!” Omar yelled out. “You fucking idiots!”
The gunfire ceased.
“Is that you, Emory?” Omar called out.
“Omar Hooth, so nice to finally meet you,” I answered.
“And you have a friend out there with a sniper rifle, yes?”
“I think the bodies are proof enough of that.”
“Seems we are at a standoff then.”
“Standoff? Seems that I have you all cornered.”
“Ah, but we have hostages.”
“Don’t worry about us. Kill them,” Tara’s dad yelled.
“Ignore the dumb American,” Omar said. “I think you and I should negotiate.”
I came up fast, gun aimed, and killed the last thug. I dropped back into cover before Omar could return fire.
“I don’t negotiate with terrorists, Omar.”
That left just Omar and Tara’s parents. The threat was done, but her parents weren’t out of danger.
“Do you want to save these two civilians?” he asked.
“Give it up, Omar,” I called out. “Your men are dead. You’re trapped in this room.”
“Yes, so I am. But I am prepared to die, and to take these Americans with me. Are you prepared, Emory Rush?”
“Enough talk. Let them go.”
As I moved up to check on them, I heard something rolling toward me. I looked down, wide-eyed, as a grenade stopped near me.
“Fuck,” I said, and covered my body.
The explosion was loud and the light was blinding, but it didn’t physically hurt me.
It was a stun grenade, just a stun grenade. It was meant to confuse and to blind, but not to kill.
But Omar was meant to kill.
“Goodbye, you bastard. This is revenge for my family.”
I dove forward, rolling blindly. I heard Omar curse and stumble as I moved wildly.
And then he screamed in pain. I kept rolling as my senses slowly came back to me, the room going from a fuzzy blur to full resolution.
Omar was on the ground, clutching his shoulder, bleeding. His gun was just out of reach.
I got to my feet and kicked the gun away. I grabbed my radio. “He’s mine,” I said into it and then tossed the radio aside.
Omar grinned. He stood up slowly, one arm bloody. “Look at you, wanting to fight an injured man.”
I slipped my knife from my sheath. “You’ve caused me a lot of problems,” I said, “and now I’m finishing this.”
He pulled a knife from his belt and growled. Omar was tall and broad, strong in the shoulders and chest. He was an ugly bastard, and he came at me viciously.
I fended off his attacks, our knives slashing through the air. Our bodies twisted and moved together as he came at me, attacking violently and savagely.
He shoved me back and I slammed against a console. I blinked, twisting away from a slash, and realized that my eyes were still fucked from the grenade. I blinked and ducked, fighting off more slashes, twisting to my side. I gave up more ground as Omar came at me like an animal.
He needed to make this fast. He was bleeding, and soon his strength would give out. I couldn’t see well, my depth perception slightly off, but I could see well enough to stay out of his reach.
We moved like that, knives flashing. Omar was slowing and my vision was coming back, slowly but surely.
He lunged at me, stabbing out fast. I used my left arm to sweep his attack away, locking his elbow, and I shoved my shoulder into his chest, forcing him back. I released his arm and he stumbled, off balance.
I kicked out, catching his knee. He swiped wildly and caught my thigh with his blade, sending pain searing up my leg. I didn’t stop though, just kept moving forward. I blocked his knife again and shoved, sending him stumbling. I followed that up hard, stabbing and slashing at him, forcing him back, back, back.
He kept it up, fighting hard, but he wasn’t watching his footing. He stumbled on his own gun, and I knew I had him. I took the opening, my knife biting out like a snake, and caught him in the neck.
