Tooth and Nail Read Online Free PDF

martyrs, foot soldiers and mad bombers in a war that has no end.
    The street karma is constantly shifting, but Bowman, brand new to the country and command, is not prepared for how much hate he has to eat here on a daily basis. The walls of the high-rise apartment buildings, pockmarked with bullet holes from years of strife, radiate it. The very streets cry infidel. The very bricks want him dead.
    “Contact, right!”
    The RPG zips across the front of his Humvee and strikes a parked minivan, which explodes and rockets a spinning blur of metal against his windshield, where it bounces with a heart-stopping smash and leaves a spider web of cracks. Kemper, driving the rig, whistles through his teeth but otherwise barely even flinches at the impact.
    They did not prepare Bowman for this in ROTC.
    The air hums and snaps with small arms fire while the fifty-cals on the Humvees chew up the walls of nearby buildings. Tracers flicker and zip through the air. The top of a palm tree explodes, scattering burning leaves and blistering their windshield with pieces of shrapnel.
    Bowman, wide-eyed and shouting himself hoarse, forces himself to calm down. His men are counting on him to lead them, and he doesn’t ’t want to let them down on his first mission. They need to stop and start directing aimed fire at the insurgent positions. In an ambush, if you can’t ’t withdraw, you assault.
    He starts to key his handset, but Kemper turns, winking, and tells him that things will be just fine, sir, if we keep right on moving.

The cops aren’t answering the phone
    Bowman’s eyes flutter open and he looks around the facility manager’s office with a flash of panic. Had he been dreaming? For a moment, he’d thought. . . . Then he’d heard a noise. A knock? He listens to the hum of machinery in the hospital basement.
    Somebody is muttering outside his door.
    “Come in,” he says.
    Kemper enters the room, dimly lighted by a single desk lamp, followed by the squad leaders. Bowman is expecting them. He requested a squad leader meeting. The room’s smells of sweat, stale coffee and lived-in gear grows stronger.
    “Pull up a chair, gentlemen,” says the LT, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, Pete, just push that aside. Ah, coffee’s not fresh but it is hot if you want some.”
    Ruiz stands, grinning, and heads for the pot. “Don’t mind if I do, sir.” His squad will be manning the wire for the rest of the night until relieved at oh-six hundred.
    Bowman clears his throat and says, “Gentlemen, the situation has changed. Again. In fact, it’s become fluid.”
    Puzzled expressions behind their masks. “Sir?”
    “About thirty minutes ago, the RTO came to see me,” Bowman tells them. “He shared with me some interesting information about messages he’s been intercepting on the net. Gentlemen, there are units in our area of operations that are under attack by civilians.”
    The sergeants are squinting in disbelief.
    “Confirmed, sir?”
    “Captain West confirmed it.”
    “Coordinated?”
    “No,” Bowman answers. “The attacks are entirely random.”
    “Just what do they hope to gain from doing that?” says Sergeant McGraw. “Are they looking for food, vaccine or are they, you know, lashing out at the government?”
    Bowman looks him square in the eye. “We were one of the units that was attacked.”
    The men gasp. These are men not easily surprised. But they have just learned the attacks are being made by Lyssa victims suffering from Mad Dog syndrome, and it floors them.
    “We were attacked,” McGraw says slowly.
    “Yes, Sergeant. We were attacked.”
    “By unarmed Americans. American civilians. Sick people.”
    Bowman turns to the other sergeants. “As I said, the situation is changing.”
    McGraw shakes his head. “Sir. . . .”
    “Pete, you may feel that your men have something to atone for after what happened on the wire today. I don’t. Captain West agrees with my view on this. Whatever your feelings are, you’re going