A door opened on their side of the building, and a tall, thin Mexican with a face completely hidden by his bandana stepped out, saw the bodies. "Dedro!"

"Aaahhh!"

Kenn's shot connected, but the guerilla's yell ruined their element of surprise. Eyes were now on the windows, footsteps running toward them.

Kenn aimed for the jeep in front of the glass doors, trying to time it as the next rush of men came out.

The Marine's earlier shot to the gas tank was already allowing a long stream of the pungent liquid to escape, and Kyle and the Eagles were still, waiting for the distraction Kenn was providing.

Woosshhh!

His shot sparked the puddle of gas, and they watched bright, orange flames flash eagerly over the concrete and scorched their way up the fuel dripping from the gas tank.

KKkaaaablammm!

The explosion shattered half of the windows along the front of the building, throwing the jeep through the doors just as they opened. The slavers rushing out were consumed in a cloud of twisted metal and hot flames.

"Fire!"

"We hafta get out!"

"Sit down!"

The gym was in chaos, people pushing for the doors. The slaver's orders were ignored in the panic, causing the guerillas to raise their guns and take aim at retreating backs.

"Now, Eagles! Open fire!"

Bullets began to fly, raining down on the Mexicans before they could retaliate, and the shooting was very, very good. Their targets were moving and mixed in with the small sea of terrified civilians, and slugs found foreheads and throats amid total chaos. Despite the people all trying to get out of the chained doors, only slavers were killed.

"Damn!"

Kenn turned to see Chris examining his arm, blood dripping down the thick tree trunk in steady streams, "I'm trimmed - that's it."

Kenn and Kyle were both relieved, ignoring the refugees who continued to panic. Neither man ever wanted to tell Adrian they'd gotten one of his army killed.

Seeing no more enemy movement, Kenn leaned inside the window he'd shattered with his shots. He saw shaggy, unkempt hair, cold sores, gloves with holes, and smelled body odor that made him grimace. No threats to his place in this group.

"U.S. Eagle Force! Safe Haven!"

The shout echoed in the concrete room, getting attention, and Kenn grinned at them as they looked up warily, quieting. "Someone here named Overloaded? Your taxi's waiting."

Kyle and his men were dropping ropes, lowering themselves to head for fire extinguishers, as a tall, thin man with a long staff and a dirty bandage over his eyes slowly moved toward Kenn's window position, voice hopeful. "What's the word?"




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