by Margaret Kay
The Osprey rolled forward. The whir of the rotors was deafening as it moved a lot of air, gaining purchase to vertically raise back up into the dark night sky. Cloudy skies obscured all heavenly light. Doc watched the craft gain altitude through his night vision goggles. The rotors tilted forward, in an engineering feat that still baffled him, and fully locked into place. It again functioned as an airplane. Its speed increased, and it quickly put distance between them and itself.
Assault rifles held at the ready, the team made their way towards their target, a little farmhouse that was three clicks away. It was hot, over ninety degrees. And it was muggy. It wasn’t quite the rainy season yet, but it felt like the sky could open up at any moment. Within minutes, Doc was drenched with sweat. They didn’t encounter anyone on their trek through the tropical rainforest, which reeked of dead and decaying flora and fauna. This was an unpleasant place.
They steered clear of one farmhouse that lay in their path, the only structure within a mile of their target building. It was dark and quiet. The satellite showed eight heat signatures within, no one they would want to mess with if it could be avoided. They continued, at a fast pace and soon came upon their target. Calling it a farmhouse was generous. It was a twenty by fourteen three-room shack. Doc wasn’t sure how it remained upright.
Because of its tiny size, they would all go in from the front, in classic assault formation. Once inside, they would neutralize all threats while searching for their target, pretty much a textbook rescue operation. Except nothing was ever textbook. Going into a building blind, not knowing if someone had a gun trained on the door, not knowing if there were boobytraps, not knowing your target’s location, was never textbook. The second an Operator forgot that, was when that Operator would be dead.
“HQ, we’re in position,” Cooper spoke softly.
“We’ve got you, Alpha,” BT’s voice replied. “All is quiet in the neighborhood. Headcount remains at six within the target building. You are a go to engage.”
“Roger that,” Cooper replied. He led the others, swiftly approaching the building, rifle up, surveying the building and the surrounding area through his sights. It was dark within and quiet.
Doc fell in line and followed the others up to the structure. He pressed his back against the building. He’d be fourth in, behind Cooper, Jackson, and then Garcia. Madison had her sights trained behind them. Even though HQ’s Ops Center watched them from the satellite feed, they took nothing for granted.
“Breach, breach, breach,” Cooper said softly, pulling his back from the structure. He squared up in front of the door and kicked it open with a powerful thrust of his leg. He threw the flash-bang in, which shattered the soundless night.
Cooper propelled himself through the doorway, going low, rifle up sweeping to the right. Jackson was through right behind him, his rifle trained to the left. Two men laid on rugs on either side of the room. They both grabbed their AK-47s. Before Garcia had flung himself through the door, Cooper and Jackson had taken both the threats out.
“That’s one and two,” Cooper broadcast.
The door to the left opened. A muzzle flash lit the void, shots struck near the team. The team returned fire as Doc came into the house, hitting at least one target within. Doc concentrated on the door to the right, rifle up. It remained closed. Garcia shifted over and approached the door with Doc while Jackson and Cooper invaded the other room.
Garcia raised his leg and kicked the door in. It broke in half, rotted wood.
“Don’t shoot,” a female voice shouted in English. “There’s a child in here.”
Doc heard more gunfire from the direction Cooper and Jackson were, small caliber fire. Then he heard the unmistakable, AR full-automatic reply. “That’s three and four,” Jackson added.
There was movement in the room in front of Doc and Garcia. “Get down, hands, let me see your hands,” Garcia barked.
Within, Doc saw their American target, huddled with a local woman and a small child, maybe four years old. “Get on the ground, get down,” Doc ordered. “Got the target, a woman and a small child,” Doc broadcast.
“That’s all six,” BT’s voice came through their comms. “Get your target and move to extract, Alpha.”
Doc watched their target soothe and direct the South Sudanese woman to assume the position. She did so, clinging to the child. Then their target, on her knees with her hands raised into the air, prostrated herself on the ground too. Doc glanced around the small room. There was no furniture, no windows, no doors, no place for anyone to hide.
Garcia covered him as he moved to her. “You got any weapons?” Doc asked.
“No, of course I don’t,” she replied.
“What about her?” Doc asked.
“No, and neither does the child, asshole.”
Doc ignored her. “Are you hurt anywhere?” He asked, feeling over her, searching her for himself.
“No, just dehydrated and hungry,” she answered.
“We’re getting you out of here. Can you walk?” He moved over to the other woman and searched her as well. She had a knife which he relieved her of.
Their target was up on all fours, watching him. “Yes.”
He pressed his hand down firmly on the other woman’s back. “Stay,” he said.
“Albaqa', Fiza,” their target said. Her eyes were focused on the goggles of this mystery man wielding the automatic weapon. “I told her to stay.”
“You’ve got incoming, Alpha. The eight from the neighboring farmhouse are closing in.”
“Let’s move,” Doc said, taking hold of her arm. “Stay close to me and do what I tell you to do.” He led her back to the main room. Cooper and Jackson had just finished up in the other room. All Tangos were neutralized.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Cooper said. “Xena, we’re coming out.”
“Roger Coop,” she replied. “No sign of movement yet.”
“Your ride is coming in hot. New exfil location, your twenty. They will make a pass firing on the unfriendlies and then sit down. Don’t waste time getting on board,” BT advised.
“Roger,” Cooper acknowledged.
They went back out the door in the same order they entered. Doc held onto their target, keeping her crouched down. She was a sturdy woman, who topped out at five eleven.
The minigun rounds announced the arrival of the black Osprey that approached low and fast from the west. It sat down just to the north of the structure. The team ran towards it. Gunfire erupted, hitting the ground around the team and pinging the aircraft. The door gunners returned fire. Madison and Cooper both turned and fired at the incoming threat to help provide cover while Doc got their target on board.
Doc was nearly to the aircraft with their target in tow when he heard, through his comms, Madison’s deep grunt. He turned his head and viewed her lying on her back on the ground. At the same moment, he saw Cooper’s body jerk backwards. Then Cooper’s voice came through his comms. “Fuck!”
“Man down,” Doc broadcast.
Jackson returned cover fire as Garcia, ran back towards his downed teammate. When he reached them, Cooper already had Madison by the vest, and was pulling her to her feet. Garcia looped an arm around her and helped Cooper drag her towards the chopper. After a few steps, her legs helped to propel them forward. Meanwhile, Jackson and the door gunners eliminated the threat.
“Xena’s hit,” Cooper declared.
Doc knew Cooper was too. He pushed the target on board. He climbed up beside her, moved them both within the belly of the bird, and got both his packs open and the supplies ready to treat his teammates. His mind was already running through the steps needed to treat their injuries and potentially save their lives.
Garcia lowered Madison to the floor beside Doc. Cooper dropped himself next to her. Doc’s initial evaluation of Madison confirmed she was breathing and had a pulse. He removed her NVGs and her helmet. Her eyes were open, but unfocused. He felt over her neck, no blood, no wounds. His hands slid do
wn her vest. Square in the center, a slug.
“Help me get her vest off,” Doc said to Garcia. “Where are you hit?” He then asked Cooper.
“Left upper arm,” Cooper admitted.
“I’ll be to you shortly.” Doc and Garcia wrestled to get the bullet proof tactical vest from Madison. “Vest stopped the round,” Doc said after he had checked beneath it, cutting her fatigue shirt open to reveal the black sports bra she wore as always. He quickly checked over the rest of her. No injuries. She’d have a hell of a bruise from the impact on the vest though. “Get an ice pack and put it on her,” he ordered Garcia, pointing to the purple contusion that was already forming.
Madison’s eyes were more focused, gazing at him.
“Hurt like hell, didn’t it?”
She breathed out hard, swallowed even harder and nodded her head.
“You’ll be fine. Just lay still.”
“What can I do?” Jackson asked.
“Get Miss Moore some water and a protein bar.” He pointed to their target, who sat nearby, watching them intently.
Doc moved onto Cooper. He cut the sleeve away, exposing the wound. He examined it from both sides of his arm. It was a deep flesh wound. It didn’t even look like too much of the muscle was hit. “It’s just a graze.” He poured disinfectant on it.
Cooper screamed out curses.
Doc applied a QuikClot dressing to stop the bleeding and then bandaged it. Then he made Cooper lay beside Madison.
“Are you okay?” Madison asked, her eyes locked with her husband’s.
“You heard Doc, it’s just a graze.” He raised his fisted hand, holding it out to her.
She grinned and tapped it with hers.
“Jesus, you two,” Doc said taking both their hands, making them clasp. “If I take one in the vest or through the arm one of you better hold my hand.”
Cooper flashed a smirk at him. “I’m not ever holding your hand. You’re not my type,” He raised Madison’s hand to his lips and placed a kiss on her knuckles. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, Blondie.” Then he clutched her hand to his chest.
“Back at you,” she said, breathing a bit easier.
Doc moved over to their target, Christine Moore. “How dehydrated do you think you are? I can start an IV to get fluids in you.”
She downed the rest of the bottle of water Jackson had given her. “I think a few more bottles of this and I’ll be fine.” She ate all the protein bar too. “Are they going to be okay?” She pointed to Cooper and Madison.
Doc nodded. “They both got lucky.” He handed her another bottle of water and another protein bar. “Let me just check your vitals quick.”
She nodded.
Doc gave her a quick exam. Her heart rate was a little high. Nothing odd about that given the situation. Doc was sure his still was too. Her pulse was a little weak, dehydration and exhaustion would do that. And her respiration was quick and shallow, what he’d expect.
“You have no unit markings,” Christine Moore said.
“That’s right,” Doc replied.
“Who are you, SEALs? Marine Raiders? Rangers?”
“We are no one you need to be able to identify and absolutely no one who should end up in one of your articles,” Doc said.
“Oh, come on. This is a story that people should know.”
Garcia leaned into her face. His voice was low and gravelly when he spoke, a definite warning. “You heard the man. This isn’t your story to tell and if it weren’t for us, you wouldn’t be here to tell it. So, lady, you owe us.”
“And you shouldn’t have been here, anyway. There is good reason there is a travel advisory for this region. Can you say Level Four Designation due to crime, terrorism, civil unrest, kidnapping, and armed conflict? Do you understand what that means? That means do not travel there,” Doc said.
“I wasn’t traveling, asshole. I was working,” she spat. “The truth of what’s going on in these areas has to get out, and it’s people like me who get these stories to the rest of the world.”
“You shouldn’t have been here without a security force protecting you. No one in this hell hole respects the press. You’re nothing but a big dollar sign to these assholes,” Doc lectured.
“Maybe you’d want the job then,” she replied.
“You couldn’t afford us,” Garcia said, shaking his head. “And lady, there're easier ways to earn a paycheck.”
Doc watched him as he moved to the bench and sat. He plugged his earphones back in and rested his head against the fuselage. His eyes flickered to Jackson, who sat beside Cooper and Madison. Yeah, they’d been very lucky.
The V-22 Osprey had already converted back to a turboprop aircraft and flew at its maximum speed out of the South Sudanese airspace heading back to the U.S. base in Djibouti. It would land and do a quick refueling on the way.
“Give me a Sitrep for Big Bear,” BT’s voice came through everyone’s comms.
“Coop has a graze to his arm, Xena took one to the vest. Both are stable and mobile,” Doc reported.
“Good to hear,” BT replied.
When they landed in Djibouti, they turned Christine Moore over to the base personnel. As they carried their gear to their ride home, an Air Force C-130, Cooper received a text from Mother. “Doc needs to call the Undertaker, ASAP,” the text read. Cooper knew right away something was wrong.
Sloan’s phone vibrating in his pocket alerted him to the incoming phone call. Even though he had his ringer on high, there was so much noise in the room he didn’t hear it. He checked the display, Doc. He stepped towards the door as he answered it.
“Doc, hold on a sec.” Once he was in the quiet hallway with the door closed, he continued. “Okay, sorry about that. First of all, Elizabeth and the baby are fine. But there was a situation tonight.”
Doc’s gut clenched. This couldn’t be good. Even though it was over a hundred degrees out, his blood ran cold. “What happened?”
“Elizabeth called into Ops. She was bleeding vaginally. She’d already called 9-1-1. Ops called me and I went to your place. I rode in the ambulance with her and stayed with her the whole time. She has been diagnosed with placenta previa. But as long as she remains in bed, there’s no danger to her or the baby. Lying down stopped the bleeding. The ER doc said it looks like it could move up on its own, but her own OB will keep tabs on it and be better at predicting the likelihood it will resolve itself before delivery.”
“Where is she now? What hospital?” His four team members, who stood nearby, all stared at him with concern.
“They didn’t admit her. I brought her back to HQ. She’s going to stay in the apartment on nine. This way we can all help take care of her till you get back. She’s supposed to stay in bed and only get up to use the bathroom.”
“Oh shit. She must have been so afraid,” Doc remarked.
“Yeah, but once the ER doc told her she and the baby would be fine if she stayed in bed, she noticeably relaxed. Before that, I was going to ask for a sedative or an anti-anxiety pill for her. All she wanted was you to be there, man. I think she’s worried you will think she did something to cause this.”
“Does she have her phone with her? I need to call her, so she knows I’d never blame her.”
“I’ll carry my phone back in, and you can talk with her on mine. It’ll help me clear the room.”
“You were in with her when I called? All that noise was in the apartment?”
Sloan laughed. “Yeah, everyone wanted to be sure she was okay and let her know they are here for her. Shepherd even visited her, to assure her she is welcome to use the apartment for as long as she needs to. It’s better she’s there as Angel can help, bring her meals, you know, be a mom.” He reopened the door. It had quieted some. “Okay, everyone out. I’ve got Doc on the line for her.”
Elizabeth couldn’t wait to hear Alexander’s voice.
“You’ll be fine, little momma,” Lambchop said, grasping her shoulder. He pressed a chaste kiss to her for
ehead. “Let me know if you need anything.” He nodded to her phone.
“Thank you, Landon,” she said, watching the big man move towards the door to follow everyone else out.
“I’m sleeping in my office,” Mother said. “You’ve got my phone number now. Call me if you need anything at any time.”
“Thanks, Danny,” she said as Gary handed her his phone. She pressed it to her ear. “Hi.”
“Honey, are you okay?” Alexander’s voice came through the receiver.
