Читать книгу Dorian Gray - John Garavaglia - Страница 63

countless number of times he’d played this scene out in his mind, it had never gone quite this way.

Dorian was hoping the hostiles hadn’t made a radio call, either for reinforcements or to alert headquarters to the presence of the insertion team. But he knew that was a prayer that would likely go unanswered…

Henry and Dorian ducked low, still holding their drawn weapons, trying to shield themselves from the onslaught as all hell broke loose around them.

“Henry,” Dorian shouted over the gunfire, “with me!”

Not waiting for an answer, Dorian crawled to his left, the enemy gunfire following him almost as closely as Henry, bullets whistling through the air, hitting the walls.

Henry asked, “What the hell are you doin’, bro?”

“I thought you said you liked it hot,” Dorian said.

“Bikini women hot,” Henry said, “umbrella drinks on the beach hot—not have bullets flyin’ around my head hot!”

“I just can’t take you anywhere. All you do is bitch, bitch, bitch.”

With bullets whistling overhead, Henry was up to his chin in the mud. Feeling movement to his right, Henry glanced over to see Dorian ready to spring into action.

“You gonna move?” Dorian asked.

Another burst of gunfire shrilled past their heads.

“Actually,” Henry said, “It’s pretty cozy right here.”

Bullets tore up the mud in front of them, flecking their faces with thick brown teardrops.

JOHN GRAVAGLIA

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