Chapter 20
HUDSON
Icrouched low and waited for the gunfire to stop.
Two of my guys were across the street hiding behind a burnt-out jeep.
The extraction mission wasn’t a failure yet, but if we didn’t find a way out of the mess we were in, we were all fucked.
I glanced behind me. Three more of my team were crouched with the barrels of their automatic rifles pointing up.
“This is fucked,” one of them said.
“Guy can’t shoot forever,” I replied.
“How are we going to get them out of there?”
I had been thinking the same thing. “Anyone got eyes on the commander?” I asked.
“He was taking Red and Tex ahead to scout a new route,” one of the guys answered.
The bullets were bouncing off the ground and ricocheting into the cars and buildings along the street. Our cover wouldn’t last forever. We didn’t know how many shooters we had. They could already be moving. If we got flanked, we would die. It was as simple as that.
But I didn’t want to die. No one did. We had entered into the mission knowing death was a possibility, but we didn’t plan to die. That would be mission failure. Our goal was always mission success. The possibility of being killed didn’t deter us from our mission.
“We need to move,” I said. “We’re sitting ducks. Murray and Stewie are pinned down. We have to get them out of there.”
“How are we going to do that?”
I looked up the street. Anyone that had been out walking around and going about their day had taken cover.
Gunfire was normal for the civilians of the war-torn country.
If I was a more cynical man, I would be pissed at the situation.
The group of six American missionaries had come to the small city against the government’s warnings.
They got themselves kidnapped and it was up to us to rescue them.
The mission was supposed to be fairly simple.
The group holding them wasn’t all that organized or big.
At least, that was what the intel had said.
The intel said nothing about the place being heavily guarded. I peered around the building we were hiding behind. We had a good idea where the shots were coming from. If there was just one shooter, we could do this.
“We’ve got to get them,” I said again.
“Distraction?”
A distraction was risky, but we all knew how to not get shot. “I’ll do it,” I volunteered. “You two go south and provide cover.”
I wasn’t in charge, but with the commander separated from us, it fell to me to lead the group of four guys left behind. The hostages were hopefully already on their way to safety. We had been left to secure their escape and got caught.
“Move!”
I fired off a couple of shots into the general vicinity of the shooter to try and draw his fire. If he was shooting at me, he wasn’t shooting at them. I exposed myself for a brief second. A volley of gunfire came my way. A burning sensation tore through my upper arm.
I fired back while dropping to the ground. I kept firing, knowing the guys were already on the move. I heard someone shout, followed by more shouting. I scooted back until I was back behind the safety of the building. My arm was burning, but it wasn’t anything to worry about.
“Check in!” I called out.
“We’ve got casualties!”
“Fuck,” I muttered. I kept my head on a swivel, holding my weapon at the ready with my finger ready to pull the trigger. I ran the fifty feet to where the rest of my group were waiting. “Where’s Murray?” I asked.
Red shook his head. “He didn’t make it.”
“What?” I immediately moved to a better vantage point. I saw my friend lying in the street in a puddle of blood. He wasn’t moving, but that didn’t mean he was dead. “Cover me!”
“No, Steele, he’s gone,” one of the guys said.
“I’m not leaving him,” I answered. I was already looking for a way to reach him. I was calculating distance and the speed it would take to reach him. The sniper had proven to be average at best. If the guys drew fire, I could pull him to safety.
“He’s gone,” Stewie said again. “He was gone before he hit the ground.”
“Our commanding officer just radioed, we rendezvous now,” another said.
“Not without Murray,” I growled.
“You can’t do anything for him. We’ll come back with aircover and pull him out. We’ve got to move.”
Just then, the earpiece in my ear crackled and came to life. “Steele, rally now!”
It was my commanding officer’s voice. Our comms had been in and out since we started the fucking mission. There were always gut feelings. I should have listened to my gut that there was something wrong.
We had all been a little antsy when we got our first look at our target.
The house was supposed to be unguarded. It wasn’t.
There were too many places snipers could hide.
But it was our mission. We didn’t get to decide whether we did it or not.
That was a decision reserved for some dude sitting in a cushy office listening to our comms right then.
“Sir, we don’t leave anyone behind,” I argued.
I was staring at Murray’s body, looking for any signs of life. Sticky sweat dripped into my eyes. I quickly wiped it away, and for just a moment, I was certain I saw his hand move. “He’s alive!”
“He’s not, let’s go!” Stewie shoved me hard. “You’re going to get us all killed.”
I shook my head. “No. I saw him move. He can’t let the sniper know he’s alive. Cover me! I’m going to get him!”
I didn’t give them time to argue. I ran directly into the street where my friend lay flat on his back.
Bullets rained down all around me. I heard it like I was in a tin can.
My team was firing back in rapid succession.
I grabbed Murray’s pack and started to pull.
I didn’t check for a pulse. I didn’t look at his face.
I just moved. I felt a hit to my calf and another one hit my helmet.
The guy was heavy as shit. The fifty-pound pack wasn’t helping matters. I couldn’t seem to move fast enough.
“Let him go!” someone screamed at me. I felt myself falling to the broken pavement. I tried to regain my balance, but it felt like I was sinking into quicksand. The next thing I knew I was being pulled across the pavement with more bullets coming at us. I kept a death grip on Murray’s pack.
Until I didn’t.
“Wait!” I shouted. “I let go. We’ve got to go back!”
Another one of the guys grabbed my upper arm and we were suddenly moving a lot faster. My body bounced over the rough dirt alongside the street. I didn’t feel the pain. Not really. There was throbbing and the fucking sweat in my eyes that was making it hard to see.
“Go, go, go!”
I tried to fight them off. They wouldn’t let go of me. “Stop!” I screamed. “Let me up! We can’t leave him out there!”
I could hear my commanding officer in my ear cursing and barking orders. The team around me was running and firing. I understood we were being chased.
I couldn’t see much of anything. Sweat was pouring into my eyes. I irritably rubbed my face and felt the stickiness. That was when I realized I wasn’t sweating—I was bleeding.
“Two o’clock!” one of the guys shouted. I aimed and started firing. I trusted them to guide me, even though my vision was shit at best.
I saw shadowy figures pouring out of a doorway just as I was dragged past it. “Down!” I shouted. “Five o’clock!”
The figures all in black were mowed down before they got a shot off.
The bullets finally ceased and my very rough ride across the ground halted.
I was dropped onto my back. One of the guys was on the radio calling for an evac.
Our commanding officer appeared in front of my face.
I blinked several times and tried to focus on him.
“Hey, where’d you come from?” I asked with confusion.
“Stay with me,” he replied.
“What?”
“Stay awake,” he ordered. “Don’t pass out.”
I had no intention of passing out. But maybe I already had. I couldn’t tell. Everything was foggy and my brains felt scrambled.
“We need to move,” our commander said and jumped to his feet. “There’s too much exposure. We need to get to the original rendezvous. I don’t like this.”
“Help me up,” I said and raised my hand.
“Try not to be so rough with him,” Red said. “He’s leaving a trail of blood. They’re going to track us.”
“Wrap that arm,” the commanding officer ordered.
“I’m good,” I argued. “Help me up.”
They ignored me. I wondered if they could hear me. My weapon was removed from my shoulder. Someone was twisting a tourniquet on my left arm. “Ow,” I complained.
“Let’s move,” the commanding officer ordered.
I was dragged again, this time with a little less bounce.
Things were starting to fade. That was when it all started to sink in.
I was bleeding. A lot, judging by how dizzy I was.
The next thing I knew, I was being loaded onto a helicopter.
My commanding officer was talking to me.
I couldn’t hear a damn thing he was saying.
“Hold on!” I heard him shout close to my face. “Stay awake!”
I gave him a thumbs-up before the darkness started pulling me down again. I could hear the men around me. I felt them tugging on my body a moment before a needle stuck in my arm. I blinked and opened my eyes once again. It was Tex that was patting my face.
“Stay the fuck awake or I will push you off this helo!” He sounded angry. Tex and Murray were two of my best friends. We had been through the shit together.
“I’m awake,” I said. I felt a little more alert and aware of what was happening.
I focused on his blue eyes. The guy was the ultimate cowboy.
When we weren’t in uniform, he was always wearing a cowboy hat.
He reached up and pushed his helmet back.
I saw the blood on his hand. “You hit?” I asked him.
He looked at his hand and shook his head. “You are.”
“Fuck me,” I groaned. “How bad?”
“You’re not going to die,” he said. “Just stay awake. We’ll be touching down in ten minutes. Looks like you’ll be getting a sweet vacation with some hot nurses washing your big dumb ass.”
I grinned. “Cool.”
He was worried. I saw it in his eyes. “Who else?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”
“Tex, who else? Did we get the hostages out?”
“They’re already on their way to the hospital,” he said. “We got them out.”
I felt like I could breathe a sigh of relief. I closed my eyes. Whatever they’d stuck in my arm was good. I wasn’t feeling any pain. Not really. Then my eyes popped open. “Murray! Did you get him?”
“We’re getting you to the hospital,” he said. “Stewie took a bullet. We need to get you both there.”
“Fuck! Stewie!”
“Calm down, Toots,” I heard Stewie say.
I turned my head to see him sitting in one of the chairs with the commanding officer wrapping his arm with gauze. It was already soaked with blood. “How bad?” I asked.
“He’ll be fine,” the commander said. “Straight through.”
“Where’s Murray?” I asked again.
“Steele, he didn’t make it,” the commanding officer said. “We’ve got a team on the way to extract the body.”
“No!” I shouted and struggled to get up.
Tex was holding me down. “He’s gone. There’s nothing any of us can do for him.”
Pain, grief, and anger tore through me. This was not supposed to happen.