Revolution

A few hit the dead man in front of him, ripping his already torn body still further. Bits of cloth and flesh splattered over Da

The gunfire across the battlefield abruptly stopped. Da

He began making his way toward the barn, moving cautiously. He came upon another soldier, facedown in the field.

As he checked to see if the man was alive, a shadow moved to his right. Da

“I’m Captain Freah!” Da

The figure answered with gunfire.

Two bullets hit Da

Da

He couldn’t return fire—he’d lost his MP5 when he fell.

Finally, the bursts stopped.

Da

Da

DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND

blows, but Da

By the time he got control of himself, the guerrilla was dead, his face a bloody pulp.

Da

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Da

“There may be hostages,” said the lieutenant. “I don’t want to strike blindly.”

As if on cue, another machine gun began to rake the field from the second story of the barn. Da

“Where are you going?” yelled Roma.

“I’ll flank it, get an angle. You draw his fire from here.”

“No. You stay. My men will take care of it.”

“Draw his fire,” insisted Da

Da

Before he could decide whether to go back a little and try from another spot, Da

He stayed like that for a full minute before he unfolded REVOLUTION

179

himself. The Romanian soldiers began moving forward in the dark.

“American!” yelled one.

“I’m over here!” answered Da

Lieutenant Roma joined him as his men worked their way toward the barn. There was still sporadic gunfire, but nothing as intense as it had been just a few minutes before.

“We have reinforcements on the way,” Roma said, his voice tight with anxiety. “We’re cutting off the road near the highway. Then we’ll tighten the noose.”

“How many troops are coming?” Da

“A company. Two. Whatever can respond. I don’t think there are many more guerrillas,” he added. “And those who are left may not have the stomach to keep fighting.”

“They have plenty of stomach from what I’ve seen.”

Aboard EB-52 Be

above northeastern Romania

2217

ZEN SPOTTED TWO FIGURES RUNNING FROM THE REAR OF

the barn toward a building across a dirt road a hundred yards away. As he circled around, he saw someone else near the building. Suddenly, one of the walls seemed to give way. A small pickup truck emerged—it had broken through a garage-style door—and headed toward the road. The man nearby threw himself into the back. The two others ran and did the same. Another vehicle, this one a car, followed.

“Da

“Roger, we heard it.”

180

DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND

“I can nail them.”

“Negative. They may have hostages. Follow it for now.”

Zen slipped the Flighthawk farther along the road. The Romanians had forces on the highway about three-fourths of a mile away, though there were several places the guerrillas could turn off. He tucked back, then decided to try and spook them by flying toward them low and fast, pickling a few flares into their windshields as he pulled up.

As he came out of the turn and started in, he spotted a small bridge over a stream ahead of the vehicles and got a better idea.

The bridge was little more than a few wooden planks over a culvert pipe. He climbed a few hundred feet, then pushed in, twisting the Flighthawk so its nose pointed almost straight down at the road surface. He mashed the trigger of his ca

The pickup appeared as Zen cleared. His attack had damaged the bridge so severely that it slid sideways as soon as the truck started across. The vehicle skidded but managed to get to the other side as the bridge collapsed behind it.

The car that was following, however, was stranded. Seven men hopped out and ran across the culvert to the truck. From the air, it looked like a circus routine, though without the humor.

“Truck got across the little bridge,” Zen told Da

“Stand by.”

The pickup drove about ten yards and then stopped. Everyone spilled out and began ru

“Da

There was a pause as Da

“See if you can stop them,” Da

Zen laid down a spray of ca

181

house. Three or four men fell, but the others were too spread out for him to target in a single run. He circled back quickly, but by the time he brought his guns to bear, all but two had made it into the house.

Whether they had hostages before, Zen thought bitterly, they had them now.

Near Tutova, northeastern Romania

2220

THE POLICE CAR AND AN AMBULANCE WERE IN THE BARN.

So were two policemen. Both had been shot through the head.

Lieutenant Roma quickly regrouped his men, organizing them so he could surround the house where the guerrillas had gone. He seemed to realize that his fears about hostages had probably led to others being taken. Or maybe his somber mood came from the fact that the guerrillas had killed two and wounded four of his men in the field outside the barn.