Prologue #2
I’m sitting beside her bed, taking my turn, when 1Lt.
Montgomery begins to scream, sitting straight up.
“Shhh,” I soothe, gripping her shoulders to keep her from leaping off the cot and tearing her IV out again.
“You’re in a safe place, 1Lt.” Her eyes dart around the semi-darkened enclosure before landing on me.
“I’m Duke, a Navy SEAL. We will get you home soon.
” She shivers, tears now falling down her face.
“I’m free?” Her voice is gruff and rusty sounding.
“Yes,” I reply. “We are giving you some fluids to get your strength back. The choppers will be here in a few hours. You should try to sleep until then.” I reach for a flask of water, offering her a drink.
She shakes her head, but takes a couple of sips before responding. “I don’t want to sleep,” she rasps out. “They come every time I fall asleep.”
“They won’t be coming for you anymore,” I assure her, but I can tell she doesn’t believe me, and perhaps in a way, she’s right.
I can’t keep her from dreaming of them, but I won’t let them physically take her again.
I encourage her to sip more of the water, helping her hold onto the flask while she drinks.
She dips her head in thanks after she’s had her fill.
“Try to rest,” I urge. Not meeting my gaze, she reclines onto the cot. Her wide eyes flit around as her body shakes with silent tears.
Sometime later, I’m relieved by the newest member of our team so I can catch a nap before the extraction.
Pitbull informs me our transport has been delayed by enemy fire as I’m heading toward a tent to sleep.
I nod my understanding, hoping the delay won’t be very long.
Finding an empty cot, I lay down and quickly fall asleep like I’ve learned to do during my years of service.
I awake to a flurry of activity. I sit up, fully alert. Pitbull runs up to my cot. “We’ve got company,” he growls.
Instantly I’m on my feet, grabbing my gear and throwing my pack onto my back. I check, and double check my weapons before exiting the small tent to join the others in the center of camp.
“What have we got?” I ask, reaching Pitbull’s side.
“Insurgents,” he bites out through gritted teeth. “A whole fucking lot of them. They’ve caught us with our pants down. There’s no way we can out run them with the numbers of weakened hostages. I don’t understand how the found us. This isn’t a random patrol. There are at least fifty of them.”
Fuck! This is bad!
“You have charge of the 1Lt., Duke,” Pitbull calls out as I turn toward the med tent. “We need to get moving if we have a ghost of a chance.”
When I enter the tent, I see 1Lt. Montgomery sitting on the cot with a sheet wrapped around her, appearing more alert.
Doc is kneeling beside her. He removes the IV from her arm and places a bandage over the site.
She looks better than when I first laid eyes on her, but the evidence of her ordeal is still there.
Doc pulls some fatigues out of his pack.
As I make my way to her side, I take the clothes from Doc and kneel next to her. I tap her foot, wanting her to lift it so I can put socks on her. She startles at my touch.
“I need to get you dressed,” I say looking up at her. “We have to move.”
With a dip of her head, she slowly lifts her foot. I manage to dress her quickly sans undergarments, but it’s better than nothing. I put socks and shoes, which are much too large, on her feet in case she is forced to walk. We have to be prepared for any scenario.
Once she’s dressed, I help her to her feet, leading her out to the waiting vehicles.
We load up, again with her in my lap due to the limited space and take off like a bat out of hell.
The terrain is rough causing our Humvee to bounce around.
The 1Lt. is forced to hold her hands to the roof of the vehicle to keep from beating her head against it constantly.
We take heavy fire as we barrel toward the barricade the enemy has erected to prevent our escape. Drake fires an PRG, to clear our path. The enemy yells curses at us in Arabic as we breech their barrier.
The 1Lt. tenses even more and begins to tremble. Her fear is palpable. Hoping to distract her from her fears, I begin to question her about her life and how she came to be in service.
I learn she’s only twenty-three years old and one of three siblings.
She joined the Marines to follow in her older brother’s footsteps.
Unfortunately, he’d gone missing a couple of months before she’d been abducted.
The 1Lt. is worried about her younger sister, who has to be devastated over losing them both in such a short amount of time.
“You’ll be able to call her once we get back to base,” I assure her.
“Thank you,” she whispers, “for being kind to me. I really appreciate it.”
She rests her head on my shoulder. I don’t feel any physical attraction to her.
It’s more of a sisterly feeling, to keep her safe from harm.
I can’t help comparing her to my sister Daisy, who’s a surgeon in the Navy.
Both women are strong and joined the service because of their older brother.
I think they’d get along well. Perhaps when we get back to base, I can introduce the 1Lt. to Daisy.
Over the next few hours, we run into one obstacle after another. Pitbull confers with command, but there isn’t a clear path in any direction. It seems the enemy knows every contingency plan we have, including our extraction points. How is that possible?
Suddenly, without warning, we are ambushed.
The Humvee in front of us drops out of sight when the road is hit with an RPG.
I don’t have time to think about those inside of it, because we begin to take heavy fire.
Tanks have rolled in behind us, and the gaping hole in the road where our lead vehicle plunged into has us pinned down.
The vehicle behind us throws their doors open filing out, taking shelter between their doors and our truck.
We follow suit, knowing they will defend our backs as we defend theirs.
I urge the 1Lt. to remain inside the vehicle, but have her kneel on the Humvee floor, taking shelter behind the front seats.
She no longer has her own weapons, so I grab my Ka-bar from its sheath, wanting her to have something to defend herself with should I go down. She takes it from me with a nod.
The skirmish rages for several long minutes.
Pitbull had been in the lead truck when it’d had crashed.
His head peaks up from the crater as he scrambles up onto the road.
He makes a mad dash in my direction, giving a perfect rendition of a slide into home base when he reaches me, slipping under my door and popping up beside me.
“I’m beginning to get the feeling someone doesn’t want us to make it back to base,” Pitbull declares. I can hear the concern and annoyance in his tone.
“What do you mean?” a soft voice asks from the backseat next to me. The 1Lt. staring at us with fear in her eyes. “You think we are being purposefully targeted, don’t you?” She’s watching Pitbull intently when he gives her a nod.
“It’s because of me,” I think I hear her say, but the barrage of gunfire makes it difficult to hear clearly.
“What did you say?” I ask during a break of Pitbull’s firing off rounds.
“It doesn’t matter,” she answers, staring down at the knife in her hand. “I know what I need to do.” I frown not understanding her meaning. I don’t get to ask her either, because Pitbull turns to us.
“We got to get out of here before they over run us,” Pitbull declares urgently. “Bugout in three!” He yells into comms. I grab the 1Lt.’s shoulder.
“Come on, we have to move,” I tell her. She crawls out of the tight space between the seats to kneel next to us behind the door. “Stay with me, understand?” She nods eagerly, gripping my knife tightly in her left hand.
“One!” Pitbull calls, “Two…Three! GO, GO, GO!” I take the 1Lt.’s right hand in my left, dragging her along behind me while firing my rifle with my right. Rat-a-tat-tat the sounds of gunfire going off all around us. Dust flies up as bullets land mere inches in front of us.
We round the disabled Humvee, driving for cover near some rocks along the edge of the road.
I check our surrounding and see an embankment not far off.
If we could make it there perhaps we’d have a chance of escaping.
I tap Pitbull on the shoulder and point toward the embankment.
He gives me a nod before turning to return fire at our enemies.
Tiger appears at our side with the RPG launcher in hand. “What’s the plan boss?” he queries.
“I want you to fire a grenade at them,” Pitbull instructs. “They will take cover when it launches; that’s our cue to move. We head for that embankment and pray to God we can out run the fuckers once we get there.”
The odds aren’t good, but we have to try, otherwise we are sitting ducks.
The other men have joined us. The hostages are breathing hard with fear in their eyes.
Pitbull looks at them. “When I say, go, I want you to run toward that embankment”—he points toward it—"like your ass is on fire, got it?” They all nod. “Ready, Tiger?”
“Ready.” With a nod of Pitbull’s head, Tiger stands with the launcher on his shoulder, the last of his grenades inside. He pulls the trigger. A blast of hot smoke shoots out the back as it launches, brushing past us, and thankfully no one is burned.
“Go, go, go!” yells Pitbull. I grab the 1Lt.’s hand once more, pulling her in front of me to use my body as a shield for hers as we flee the enemy. She does well, running full out toward our destination. I catch glimpses of the others as they, too, make their way to safety.
Before we can reach our target, I hear the boom of the grenade hitting its mark. Dirt begins to rain down and gunfire erupts again.
“Fuck!” someone shouts from my left. Tiger drops, dust rising around him as he hits the ground. I run to him, noting blood pouring from his left thigh. I grab him under the arms, pulling him to his feet. “I’m good. I’m good,” he insists once he’s on his feet.
I turn back to see the 1Lt. has been stopped by a couple of insurgents blocking her path to freedom. I lift my gun, but one of them calls out to me.
“Don’t shoot, and we will not kill her, but if you shoot us, she will die!”
Pitbull is screaming in my ear to hold fire. I don’t lower my weapon, but I don’t fire either. An insurgent has a laser site trained on the 1Lt. We are now in a stand-off.
“Let us leave with the girl, and you all walk out of here alive!” a male voice calls out from above and to our right. “We have no fight with you SEALs. We just want the girl.”
There is no way in hell we will let them take her back. The 1Lt. is standing stock still between us and them. She turns slowly to face us, no emotion on her face. I expected to see fear, anger, something, but it’s just blank.
“I won’t let them take me again,” the 1Lt. calls out as she shifts the knife to her right hand and raises it to her throat. “Tell my sister I love her and not to join the service.”
“No!” I shout, realizing her intention. “Don’t do it! Please don’t hurt yourself. We will get you out of this. I won’t let them take you. Trust us!” With a shake of her head, she digs the knife into her throat.
A crimson spray shoots out from her neck as I run forward. Gunfire explodes all around me, but I don’t pay any attention to it. I have to get to her to stop the bleeding.
I fall to my knees at her side. A huge puddle has already formed around her. Bloody bubbles gurgle out as she takes her final breaths. “Fuck! Why?” I yell, trying to staunch the flow, to no avail, with my bare hands.
My mind is trying to make sense out of her actions, but I’m having no luck in making sense of any of this.
She stares up at me with wide eyes. Her lips move, forming words, but I’m too shocked to comprehend what she’s trying to say around the gurgling blood flowing out of her neck and mouth.
In seconds, her eyes lose focus, and the sounds stop. She’s gone, just like that.
I stare down at her in horror. A hand grabs my tac-vest at the shoulder. I’m jerked to my feet pulling me out of my stupor.
“We have to move, Duke!” Pitbull yells in my ear as he volleys a spray of bullets at our enemies. I reach down and grab the 1Lt’s limp body, throwing it over my shoulder. As I turn to run, pain sears in my side, but I keep going.
We reach Tiger, who now has a bandage on his thigh. I’m torn between leaving the 1Lt.’s body and helping Tiger. I can’t leave him behind. There’s no way he can walk unassisted, and the hostages we have with us can barely go on their own, so there’s no way they can help him either.
Thankfully Drake and the rest of our team shows up on foot, just as that thought crosses my mind. Drake stares at the body hanging from my shoulder, shock evident on his face.
“What the hell happened?” he asks, even as he fires at the insurgents. I shake my head. I have no words to explain this shitshow. “We need to get the fuck out of here,” he needlessly explains.
Gradually the enemy stops firing, disappearing into the desert, leaving us alone to tend to our wounded.
We don’t hang around. The guys lift Tiger to his feet, one on either side of him, assisting him to make it back to our Humvee.
It seems the insurgents have given up on taking any of the other hostages after the 1Lt. died.
I have a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Something is very fucked up about this situation.
I don’t understand why she killed herself, other than the torture she’d endured had been too much to consider enduring again.
Her vacant eyes stare at me accusingly. I close them wishing like hell I had a sheet or flag, something to cover her with.
I let her and her family down. I failed to bring her home alive.