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was going to deck him, but he never got the chance. Davy was screaming from the roof: ‘Stand to!’

11
    Sam and I ran towards the house as Davy got everyone sparked up. ‘Here we go, stand to, stand to!’
    Sam paused to shout back at Standish. ‘Get the comms inside and keep out of my way!’
    We raced up the stairs and on to the roof. I could see four sets of headlamps coming our way, then five, six, maybe more.
    I took control of my gun and rested it on the parapet, jerking back instinctively on the cocking handle to check that the working parts were still to the rear and made ready. As the steel parts of the cocking slide rubbed against each other I heard the rasp of sand. I pushed in the safety bar that ran through the pistol grip from right to left before punching down on the top cover to make sure.
    The clunks and clicks of two RPGs being loaded came from just behind me, but the guys held their fire. To get in a decent shot, the vehicles needed to be within spitting distance at night. The launchers only had iron sights.
    Yet more sets of lights appeared and peeled off to the right. The fuckers were going to try to surround us. Still we waited for Sam’s order.
    The headlights closed to 300 metres and I could hear faint shouts and hoots. The boys must have been having a good old night on the ghat.
    Sam ducked and weaved like a boxer as he tried to get a better view, then a finger poked at my shoulder. ‘Take the lead vehicle.’
    I shifted position until my foresight rested on the closest set of lights. He designated other vehicles until everyone had a target. When mine was about two hundred away, he said, ‘Stand by, stand by, fire!’
    The noise of eight weapons opening simultaneously was deafening. I was buffeted by shockwaves from the RPGs, then the hot back-blast washed over me. Gravel splattered me. My nose filled with the acrid smell of cordite and spent propellant. My eardrums zinged.
    I put another double-tap into the lead vehicle as one of the grenades hit home about three back. Its headlights swerved and the dustcloud it threw up obscured the set I was aiming for.
    Next thing I saw, my vehicle, too, was swerving. It went into a complete roll not more than twenty metres from the wall.
    Bodies kept advancing, firing wildly, their screams and shouts getting louder by the minute.
    The first vehicle made it to the wall and into dead ground. It had to be heading for the gate. Sam ran along the parapet. ‘Take the wagon! Take the wagon!’
    I made a grab for the carry handle but missed. My fingers closed around the red-hot gun metal and nearly stuck to it. My hand sprang open and the gun dropped. I made sure I got the handle this time.
    Sam’s rounds stitched holes in the light sheet steel of the gates. ‘Right of the gate,’ he screamed. ‘Get some rounds through the wall!’
    I stood with the weapon in my shoulder, hands on the pistol grip and butt with the barrel on the parapet to allow me elevation down. I could smell my own burned flesh as I squeezed off a long burst.
    A few inches of breezeblock were no match for 7.62mm of steel travelling at 800 metres a second.
    The section of wall disintegrated.
    Instead of scattering, the ghat-fuelled bodies behind it fired back through the hole.
    Others still rushed the main gate, so high they didn’t even realize they were leaking blood.

12
    04:20 hours
    They came at us in waves, maybe fifteen to twenty bodies at a time. The flash eliminator at the end of my gun barrel glowed red from the sheer number of rounds that had rattled through. Standish was certainly getting his body count now.
    When the lull came, I opened the top cover in an attempt to cool the working parts.
    Sam called round for ammo states. The shouts that came back from all of us were exactly the same: ‘Low.’
    ‘All right, listen in. First light’s in two hours. Davy and Nick, get Gary and the rest of them on the back of our wagon.’
    I left the gun on the terrace with the top cover