Chapter 13
ADAM
I armed myself to the teeth with everything I could possibly carry.
I missed my gear, some of which Brock had customized for me since no one made it the way I wanted it.
He’d done the same shit for himself and several other team guys.
Having shit readily available made the job so fucking much easier.
At the door, I turned to the right. At the end of the corridor, there was a door. It was a rickety mishmash of boards haphazardly nailed together. Nothing could be heard from the other side, but opening that door was a risk. Not opening it was also a risk.
Steeling myself, I cracked the door and took a peek. Elation filled me. It was dark out. I pushed the door open and stepped into the world, shutting it behind me. I thanked God I’d found my gear. I just hoped my goggles still worked.
I slipped the helmet on, flipping the goggles down. I flicked them on and cursed. The batteries were dead.
Motherfucker! Time to embrace the suck.
I flipped the goggles up, sneaking through the shadows along the walls. I made my way around the buildings toward the dog crates. I had to check. As dangerous as it was, I refused to leave anyone behind if it was in my power to help them.
Watching the surroundings, I crept from the shadows, quickly making my way toward the boxes. I bit back a curse when I got there. They were padlocked. There was no way I could open them.
“Min fadlik la,” a whispered plea came in Arabic.
The voice was weak and listless as the man said please, no, begging for mercy.
I didn’t respond. I didn’t want to give anyone false hope, and that was all I could give at this point. I swept the area, noticing six more cages. I checked them all. All but one was padlocked. Pleas for help and mercy came from each of them, but the unlocked one? That one must’ve been mine.
Fuck that shit. I don’t own a fucking human-sized dog cage!
I moved on. The fence was just behind the crates. When I got there, I hid behind an armored pickup truck with a gun mounted in the back. What I wouldn’t have given to take that with me! That and the people locked in those cages.
Don’t dwell on shit you cannot fix. Embrace the suck and move on!
I surveyed my surroundings. The wall was easily eight or nine feet tall. Getting over it would be difficult but doable. But without something to help me over, getting over would be impossible without calling attention to myself.
I sneaked along the wall for a few hundred feet until I came across another truck.
Bingo!
This time, the truck was close enough to use as a ladder.
I climbed over the side of the truck bed. I waited for a moment, taking in my surroundings. When nothing moved, I did. I jumped to the roof, then to the wall, grabbing the edge. I hung there, biting my tongue, swallowing the scream that gathered in my chest.
I hurt everywhere. The gunshots I’d taken to the flank and thigh were hot with inflammation.
My joints, muscles, and bones ached from the multiple beatings I’d sustained.
The tremors that plagued me from the electrocution fucking sucked.
They came and went. My aim and grip weren’t on point, but I couldn’t dwell on that.
Embrace the suck! Work the problem in front of you, Adam. Get back to Brock.
The hook Brock had in me, the one that tethered me to him… I would let it guide me back to him. Back to the life I’d rejected and denied. The life I wanted more than fucking anything.
I pulled myself up to the top of the wall before I slipped over the edge. Pain exploded through me, detonating in my feet and radiating up and out as I hit the ground. I held myself still, hoping to contain the agony so I didn’t give away my position.
Once the pain eased back to the level of excruciating I was used to, I got a move on. Following the stars and my compass, I headed north, banking on the fact that we were in the southern part of Afghanistan when I was taken.
I was about a klick out when I heard the prison camp come to life. Lights flashed on. Arabic voices filled the air, screaming and yelling back and forth. I heard Brock in my head yelling at me.
Double time, Woody. Time to haul ass!
The sound of his voice in my head reminded me of something I’d read from Tecumseh.
A single twig breaks, but the bundle of twigs is strong.
I wasn’t alone. My brothers were with me in spirit, and as long as I could hear their voices, I would never be a twig. I was the whole fucking bundle.
Hoo-yah!
I chuckled; maybe I was losing it, but that was a problem for another day. I picked up the pace. It wouldn’t take them long to move their search outside the camp.
After putting another fifteen or so klicks between me and my captors, I stopped and took a breath. I pulled my cantine out of my pack and shook it. Water sloshed inside.
Thank God!
Taking a few sips, I scanned my AO. I needed to find more water and get to higher ground.
My E&E kit had some water in it, but if they came for me, I didn’t want to be fighting from the low ground and dehydrated.
I took a bit more water and let my body relax a bit.
I’d have to get back on my feet, putting some more ground between me and them soon.
Another scan showed me a vantage point. If it was as good as it looked, it would give me a bit of time to rest. Once the sun came up, I’d be able to signal ISR, hopefully. Scanning once more, I hoofed it up the mountain to the spot I spied. Nothing else looked as good as this did.
When I made it to the top, I settled down and pulled out my sniper rifle. Peering through the scope, I exhaled. They weren’t in sight. At least not yet. Hopefully they were looking for me in the opposite direction.
I had no fucking clue what time it was. My internal clock, which used to be so good, had gone to shit.
From staring up at the sky, I guessed it had to be after midnight.
Judging by the moon, I figured it was closer to dawn than midnight, so I had a few hours before the sun was high enough in the sky for me to signal ISR.
I pulled off my pack and leaned back against the rocks.
Opening the pack, I sifted through for my IFAK and the energy bars that were in the E&E kit.
I looked over my wounds. They weren’t in good shape.
I popped some antibiotics and a pain pill.
I’d save the saline lock in case the bullet wounds started doing more than oozing.
Rolling to my rifle, I took another peek through the scope.
All clear.
Sitting here, staring up at the stars, I second-guessed my decision to hunker down. I wasn’t in good shape. The leg I’d been shot in was dragging a bit. I was dehydrated and on the verge of starvation.
Stay.
Go.
My mind warred. Both made sense. I growled in frustration at my inability to make a fucking decision.
I turned to my scope again, and the decision was taken from me. About three klicks out, a truck was coming in hot. Its headlights bounced over the rough terrain.
FUCK!
I policed my area real quick. I pulled on my tactical pants, then the spare socks in my pack and my boots.
I grabbed all my gear and took off. The painkiller had dulled the pain while I was lying low, but it ramped back up now that I was back on my feet again, double-timing it away from a truck full of tangos.
After hours of running, the sun popped above the horizon for the second time since I’d escaped.
I searched for and found another sniper hide.
I needed rest, and this time, the fight-or-flight war was out of my hands.
I couldn’t go any further. I’d stumbled several times, but pulled myself back up and kept going.
Now, I was stopping more than I was running.
My left leg couldn’t keep up, and any time I put my weight on it, it collapsed under me.
This sniper hole was much better than the last. My back was protected, and I was shielded from the sun. Once I had everything settled in my spot, I crawled out and set a couple of rudimentary boobytraps with the claymores in my pack.
I crawled back to my sniper hole and redressed my wounds.
The wounds on my side were bad—angry and inflamed, hot to the touch and oozing.
It was the wounds on my thigh, though, that worried me.
They too were infected, but streaks were starting to form.
I popped some more antibiotics and pain meds and settled in.
Looking up at the sky, I pulled out my signal mirror.
I’d done this a few times today. Every time I paused for a breath or a drink of water.
I hoped the signals were getting seen. The problem was that I wasn’t sure.
I had no clue if ISR was picking up the distress signals I sent out.
All I could do was hope and keep moving.
I laid back, closing my eyes. I needed rest. I’d run throughout the day and all night. I’d not had sleep, food, or water regularly since I’d been captured. My body was tired. My mind as well. If those pursuing came upon me, the mines I’d set would wake me.
I opened my eyes. The sun had just dipped below the horizon. I must have slept all day. The last thing I remembered was staring up at the sundrenched sky, hoping against hope that the ISR had been over me when I’d flashed my distress signals.
I knew it was an outside chance. Troops in contact always came first. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. But I could hope the ISR gave me a little love.
I yawned, rolling to scan the area through my scope. Nothing. I rolled onto my back and signaled again. Considering how long I’d been asleep, if ISR had been picking up my signals, Alpha Team or a QRF would’ve gotten to me already.
I watched the sun sink in the sky. Everything stayed silent.
Until an explosion rocked the ground, causing rocks and loose soil to slide down the mountain I was hiding in. The recess in the rocky outcropping sheltered me from the falling debris.
“Time to embrace the suck,” I said as I looked through my scope.
Taliban were swarming the mountain.
The voice—the evil, sadistic son of a bitch’s voice—growled into my ear, “You will tell me what I want to know. I always get what I want.”
He stepped away from me and growled at the others in the room. He was definitely speaking Urdu.
He gave away a nugget of info. Urdu wasn’t commonly spoken in this region. I had either been transported to a new location, or they’d come here. Either way, this wasn’t the Taliban we were used to fighting.
I watched and listened to them carefully.
If my meager understanding of the Urdu language hadn’t failed me, then the head honcho’s plan for me had escalated.
Gone were the days of torturing me systematically.
The situation had become much more dire.
They weren’t going to stop, and after two escape attempts, they’d get their information or I’d die.
Time to embrace the suck.