The sandal tracks of the men ahead of them clumped together, masking their numbers. Above the rim of the wadi, the terrain was empty, at least devoid of bad guys. There was no sound from the wadi around the corner, no running footsteps, no equipment clanking. They got lucky the two stragglers were so far behind their comrades.

With a quick peek, Mike saw the last two of their quarry almost rounding the next bend. They appeared to be arguing, which ended when one of them pointed back in Mike’s direction. Mike pulled back. Maybe not so lucky, but he felt sure they hadn’t been seen him.

Making eye contact with Tom, he lifted two fingers. On his belly, Mike inched forward and wedged an eye around the corner. One man was in the middle of the wadi double timing back to their position. The other stood at the bend. Concern mixed with anticipation on his face.

Mike stood back flat to the dirt wall. “Get ready,” he mouthed, “one’s coming.”

Tom leaned the RPG against the side of the wadi.

“I’m going to throw him to you,” Mike barely whispered. He turned back. The Afghan was close. His ragged breath announced his arrival seconds before his arrival.

The Afghani rounded the corner and stumbled. His eyes shot wide open. These were not the men he was expecting to see.

Mike pushed off the wall, his hands pounded the man's chest, his fingers latching into the bad guy’s clothing. The enemy soldier tried to shout, but Mike slammed him into Tom, causing the man’s body to tighten. He was only able to get out a throat clearing noise. A big arm reached around his throat. The other hand knocked the AK out of his hands, then went over his mouth.

His buddy at the next bend either saw him snatched out of sight, or he heard the guttural sound or both. He shouted down the wadi after his friend. His voice echoed the man’s unease.

Mike reached to his side and drew a sheath knife secured on his belt. The man's hands dropped from the arm around his neck and tried to grab Mike's wrist. He was too late. Tom held the struggling man firm while the knife went under his ribs and found the heart. Mike wiggled the blade, the tip cutting the heart into pieces. A bloody blob blurted out of the enemy soldier's mouth into Tom’s hand and arm.

Tom dropped him to the ground.

The bloody blade stayed in the man’s chest as Mike picked up his AK. The shout behind them had changed. It was no longer directed toward them. The man was calling in the rest of their pursuers.

Mike had killed with a knife before. It had been up close and personal like this one. It wasn’t easy or fun, but things like that were never a consideration. It was always a split second between death, yours or his. And Mike wasn’t here to die. Not yet. If it came to it, he had a mission to complete, kill Baabaa Hotak, and these people weren't going to stop him. A silent snarl curled his lips. No one was going to stop him from that.

After a quick glance toward the Afghanis behind them, Mike nodded to himself. He was done with the cat-and-mouse game.

“Five of them coming down the center of the wadi.” His hand motioned to the RPG. “The rest of them are standing around watching, not ready. Fire a rocket into the far wall. When they hit the ground, we’ll shoot as many as possible.”

Tom leaned his new AK against the dirt wall, checked the rocket, and put the launcher on his shoulder. Mike tapped him on the head, and Tom leaned out and fired.

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The rocket plowed into the dirt wall between the far group of men and exploded. An RPG rocket is a shape charge. The bulk of the energy went straight into the wall. Dirt and dust flew up and out. The wall collapsed, dirt cascading down onto the river bed. The concussion from the blast drove some of the men at the wall down to the ground the rest hurled themselves down.

Mike jumped out, lying prone, and fired. On his knee, Tom fired his AK into the enemy. Of the five in the middle, two dropped and fired unaimed rounds, hoping to hit their attackers. The other three threw themselves to the ground and cowered. The others behind stood up after the explosion. They were the first to die.

Mike fired until his magazine was empty. He rolled behind the bend, the crack of bullets flying past him, propelling him to the safety of the wadi’s wall. Tom drew back, dropped his empty, and put a full magazine in the rifle.

The machine gun opened up and began chewing up the dirt wall they were hiding behind.

“We’re not going to play hide and seek with these guys anymore,” Mike said. “There’s still too many of them for a stand-up knockdown.” He exhaled as he stood. “This is our kill zone.” His finger pointed down the riverbed toward the last bend they’d come from. “Boost me up, then get around that bend. When you hear me shoot, come around, and we’ll have them in a crossfire.”

Without reply, Tom leaned his back against the wall and cupped his hands. Mike stepped in. Tom grunted as he lifted. They were both tired. The running, shooting, and stress of combat were taking a toll on their bodies. If they didn’t end this soon, exhaustion and dehydration would be on. It wouldn't be long after that mistakes would happen. The Army had a way of training you to deal with combat stress and exhaustion. You learned your limits and how to function in dire situations. It was a matter of time. The enemy was fresher. They hadn’t been driving most of the night, were doing the chasing, and were used to the dry heat.

Above the lip of the wadi wall, Mike lay on his back, closed his eyes, and listened. He wiggled away from the edge of the wadi and rolled onto his stomach. With deep, slow, quiet breaths to calm himself, Mike waited. The sound of Tom’s boots striking the ground faded as he ran to the next bend. He strained to hear the other men. Several spoke but not for long or loud enough to get a fix. They were still in the same stretch where Tom and he had ambushed them.

Sweat dripped off his face as he listened, the sun baking the back of his neck. If he tried to pull his collar up, the enemy might have heard him or detected his movement, so he let the sun bake down on his exposed skin. Sandals pushed through the sand. They were close. They weren’t trying to be quiet. The first man stopped at the bend below him. Mike held his breath and remained dead still. The man paused, then moved forward.

He wanted them between him and Tom in the center, so he waited. Seconds felt like minutes until he couldn’t stand it and peeked down over the edge. There were seven of them. A few more must have been behind the bend in the wadi. They were in a loose spread-out formation closer to Tom than he expected. Rifle in his shoulder, he brought the barrel down and pointed it into the back of the last man. The gun fired, and the man fell before he could utter a warning. Shifting, he shot again and hit the next man. The rest turned and fired up at him. Their rounds hit the wall under him and snapped overhead.

As Mike pulled back, Tom opened up. There was a lull from the surprised Afghanis, who turned around into Tom’s fire. Mike rolled over twice into a new position and brought his rifle out, seeking a target. There were three left alive. They had nowhere to run and no cover to hide behind. It could have been comical as the three heads darted back and forth. None of them could decide which way to shoot. Mike’s plunging fire and Tom’s AK made short work of them.

Mike watched the bodies lying immobile to ensure they were all dead.

Satisfied, he wearily crawled over to the other edge of the wadi. At the far end, he noted the blast from the RPG had killed one of them. He’d have to check to make sure the man wasn’t unconscious.

He sat on the ledge and prepared to drop down.

“Check th…” he had to clear his throat. Louder than he anticipated, he tried again. “Check those guys, weapons, ammo, radios, cell phones. I’ll check the guys back there.” He lifted his hand and pointed back with his thumb.

Tom nodded, and Mike dropped to the ground. His knees ached as they bent from the fall. He was tired. Slowly, he walked over and checked the men. He inspected and confiscated what was on each of his assigned dead men. He filled his pockets and hands with what was worth taking and met Tom in the middle.