Chapter 105: Temporarily Shaking Off Pursuers

Both of the pursuing vehicles that took to the air failed to land steadily; they rolled across the African savanna with dazzling, rarely seen cinematic motions, emitting terrifyingly loud crashes.

Especially the rear pursuit convoy, to avoid being caught in the blast, scattered like celestial maidens scattering flowers, dodging the two out-of-control rolling vehicles.

One could say these black drivers' skills surpassed those of police officers in movies; in films, whenever one pursuit car flipped, the ones behind would crash into it one after another, creating a chain collision.

But in reality, these blacks, who drove on the savanna as if it were daily routine, skillfully avoided the rolling vehicles; even if it cost them some speed, it was far better than crashing or flipping.

This sudden interruption caused the pursuing vehicles to fall even further behind; as the rear cars serving as shields, Mark and his two companions immediately felt much lighter.

Earlier, their vehicle had been caught in a semi-encirclement, bullets striking from all directions, leaving them in unbearable agony.

Now, with the pursuers significantly lagging and the distance widening, bullets came only sparsely, posing little threat.

Sam and Old Benny, having a moment to breathe, emptied a magazine, then pulled back inside to reload; Sam said, "They don't seem to be catching up anymore. But I wonder if they'll cut ahead and block us."

Mark had no time to speak; Old Benny replied, "To cut ahead, they'd need a shortcut between us and the airport. As long as the lead car hasn't taken the wrong road and is heading straight for the airport, they won't get another chance to intercept."

"So we're just counting on Henry not to get lost?" Sam worried.

"Yeah, we're counting on him," Old Benny said, pulling several hidden grenades from the bottom of the arms crate.

Seeing the grenades, Sam's eyes lit up; neither needed to discuss it—they each took a few.

They pulled the pins, flipped the safety levers, counted silently for a few seconds, then dropped the grenades out the window.

They didn't even need to throw them—the grenades detonated perfectly amid the pursuing convoy, causing chaos and giving the two previously suppressed men a satisfying release.

Since the pursuers dared not follow directly behind, they tossed the grenades farther out; they always managed to make them explode exactly where they should, slowing the pursuers' advance.

From this, one could see how thoroughly trained they had been in the military; at least in grenade control, they were utterly proficient.

But using fragmentation grenades against vehicles couldn't replicate movie scenes where one blast destroyed one car.

One unlucky driver happened to drive over the exploding fragmentation grenade—his vehicle merely jolted.

Normally, such damage would be negligible for a vehicle; only if the shrapnel damaged critical components could it cause a breakdown.

But now they were moving at high speed, and that jolt caused the vehicle to lose control.

The skidding car swerved left and right, flinging off several blacks crouching in the rear bed before stabilizing—but they were now far behind the convoy.

Sam, fired up, reached out again and waved at Old Benny: "Again. I'll blow these fucking sour radishes to hell."

"Gone. Those were the last ones."

"Fuck! You went out with grenades and brought only this little?"

Old Benny shrugged helplessly: "The lady wouldn't let me bring more. Otherwise, we'd already be using RPGs to call out their names."

Earlier, they'd smuggled in some high-end gear, but those were meant for another mission to support local factions—and already used up.

"Fuck!" Sam, whose curses were as dull as his vocabulary, grabbed his rifle, leaned half his body out the window, wrapped one leg around the seatbelt, and began firing backward.

Old Benny didn't dare be as bold; he merely extended his rifle and fired short bursts at reachable pursuing vehicles, especially those leading the pack.

Neither man ever thought they could wipe out the entire black pursuit force by themselves; according to Vietnam War averages—seventy thousand rounds to kill one enemy—their ammunition supply was far too scarce.

U. S. military tactics always relied on overwhelming firepower to achieve tactical objectives; killing was never the top priority.

Now, the goal of these two Land Rovers was simply to reach the airport and escape by plane; they could settle accounts with these blacks another day!

With Henry leading recklessly and Mark driving desperately, combined with Sam and Old Benny's harassment, the two Land Rovers gradually left the pursuers far behind.

But the jeep driven by the guide was still there, meaning the enemy knew their destination; so even if they couldn't see them, they couldn't relax.

Sam and Old Benny, back inside the vehicle, took a moment to check everyone's condition and reload empty magazines.

If the firefight continued, even if they still had ammo, their pre-loaded magazines were nearly exhausted.

Then, even if one fired while the other reloaded, losing one gun's firepower meant they'd eventually be suppressed.

Only then did they realize how intensely Mark was concentrating on driving, given the car's abnormal speed and his nerves on the verge of snapping.

"Watch out!" Mark shouted. Old Benny and Sam immediately dropped everything, gripping the doors and door handles tightly to brace themselves.

Sure enough, the vehicle lurched violently, briefly leaping into the air before landing smoothly—they were back on the road.

Though Somalia's roads were all dilapidated, they were still far better than driving across the savanna.

This meant two things: one good, one bad.

The good: they were closer to the airport, as long as they hadn't taken the wrong road.

The bad: if the pursuers also got onto the road, they'd lose their route advantage; what remained would be pure vehicle performance.

Mark saw the rear door of the lead car open; Brian gestured for him not to follow directly behind, then shoved extra cargo boxes out.

He shouted to the two in the car: "Lighten the load! We can't take any of this stuff anyway—no point keeping it."

The two understood immediately. Sam crawled to the rear cargo area, opened the back door, and was about to push the items out when Old Benny stopped him.

Old Benny poured some gasoline from a spare tank into the intended-to-be-dumped wooden crate, then tossed the entire can inside.

Sam instantly grasped Old Benny's intent; he quickly fashioned a simple ignition device, then shoved the half-empty ammo box out.

The crate hit the ground and scattered, but the ignition device successfully lit the remaining flammable material; even the ammo ignited like firecrackers and exploded.

Though the pursuers hadn't caught up yet, so the trap couldn't directly injure them, destroying the road and delaying their advance was still a huge advantage.

After pushing out several half-empty ammo boxes to create multiple roadblocks—some burning, some not—the two Land Rovers sped away.

Day4, Celebrating Release, Extra Chapter at 9 PM

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(End of Chapter)