Alex laid out two ammo magazines on the ground so he could grab them more quickly than having to pull them out of the pouch on his combat vest. Similarly, he laid a fragmentation grenade on the damp ground. John, Cat, and Miguel did the same. John had one more AT-4 CS.
Alex waited for the majority of the enemy to enter the kill zone. His crew waited for him or an immediate threat to initiate the ambush. Alex looked for Major Khan or his comrades, but he didn’t see them. He searched for a leader to shoot, but Alex couldn’t tell who was in charge—probably someone out of sight in the rear. Not all the Guards had entered the kill zone, but most of them had, and a few of the Guards were moving in too close to the Outcasts for comfort. Alex chose the closest man in his field of fire and slowly squeezed the trigger. Alex didn’t anticipate and rush the shot. He knew his AKMS would fire somewhere between his finger touching the trigger and squeezing it all the way to the rear. The best shots were the ones where the timing surprised him, as this one did, dotting the Guard neatly between the eyes. John, Cat, and Miguel opened fire, too. Four more Guards went down without a fight—John was dropping them two at a time. More Guards began to return fire, but five more fell. Some Guards smartened up and hugged the ground or found cover behind trees. Enemy shots whizzed over Alex’s head, but they weren’t close enough to make mini sonic booms. One by one, the Outcasts picked them off until the jungle became still. All that remained were the scared, the critically wounded, and the dead. Alex ejected his empty magazine, loaded a fresh one, and smiled. But his smile didn’t last long.
For an instant, he saw Major Khan. A whistle, like a coach’s whistle, pierced the air. Suddenly the whole jungle in front of the Outcasts moved. It seemed like there were a hundred new Guards behind those who’d fallen. Alex and his team shot five of the new Guards, but there were ninety-five more to take their place. Lieutenant Saeedi appeared, screaming in Farsi and cursing the Outcasts, the land they stood on, and the air they breathed. His MGA3 machine gun spewed 7.62x51mm rounds like a flamethrower.
The air around the Outcasts lit up. Pieces of bark sprang up from the fallen tree in front of Alex and the air above him popped like popcorn. John fought like a fireteam of four SEALs.
Major Khan was yelling commands in Farsi. Lieutenant Saeedi’s machine-gun barrel glowed white hot, and the heavy volume of fire focused on John’s position. Alex thought he had it bad, but now John had it worse. John ducked behind the tree. Splinters flew off the tree in front of John as Lieutenant Saeedi and the Guards made toothpicks out of it.
“Sierra One, this is Dunham, over,” the ship called. “NSA reports that General Tehrani has departed the biological weapons compound and is bugging out. JSOC wants to know if you’re pursuing.”
JSOC can kiss my ass. “Now is not a good time.” Alex left the mike on without speaking for two seconds so the Dunham could hear the Outcasts getting their asses pummeled. “Out.”
“Now is not a good time, roger. Uh, Dunham out.”
Alex picked up his fragmentation grenade, pulled the pin, let the spoon fly, cooked off a couple of seconds, and threw the grenade like a baseball from center field to home plate—right in front of Lieutenant Saeedi. “Frag out!” Alex, Cat, and Miguel took cover. The grenade exploded, but Lieutenant Saeedi continued to curse like a madman—his MGA3 machine gun unrelenting. Is this guy human?
Alex popped up and fired at Lieutenant Saeedi. Cat and Miguel tossed their grenades and shouted, “Frag out!” The stereo duet of frag out reached Alex’s ears like sweet music. Swoosh went John’s AT-4 CS. Alex and his crew ducked behind the tree. The explosions took the fight out of the Guards for the moment, but the moment wouldn’t last forever. The Outcasts weren’t going to have a better chance of hoofing it out of Dodge than now. “John and Cat, leapfrog back!” Alex called.
32
* * *
Lieutenant Saeedi lay on the ground with the bottom half of his right leg blown off and his intestines spilling out onto the ground. As his right leg spurted blood, he picked his intestines off the ground and tried to put them back in his body, but they slipped through his bloody fingers. “Help me, Khan!” he cried.
Major Khan advanced to Lieutenant Saeedi’s position and looked down on him. “I’ve been helping you since I first commanded you.” Major Khan blew his whistle. “But I can’t help you now.” Major Khan advanced with his Revolutionary Guards.
“Help me, please!” Lieutenant Saeedi sobbed.
33
* * *
“John and Cat back!” John and Cat yelled as they turned and ran to the rear.
A whistle blew, and Major Khan and his Guards advanced on the Outcasts’ position.
Alex and Miguel fired at the Guards, but they continued to advance. Miguel was an experienced operator and Alex probably didn’t have to tell him, but Alex told him anyway: “Miguel, stand by to leapfrog back!”
“Standing by to leapfrog back!” Miguel said.
John and Cat began shooting. That was Miguel and Alex’s cue.
“Miguel and Alex back!” Alex yelled. The two stood up and raced to the rear. In the corner of Alex’s eyes, he saw John and Cat ahead ten yards to his left.
Major Khan was shouting commands at the Guards again. The Guards’ shooting picked up, especially in Alex and Miguel’s direction.
Alex ran harder—so did Miguel. They passed John and Cat’s position and kept going ten yards before dropping down and firing at the Guards. The Outcasts continued leapfrogging in pairs to the rear, but the Guards regained their confidence and pursued, increasing their firepower. The next time Alex and Miguel ran to the rear, the air around Alex burned: dirt chunks hopped out of the ground, tree wood sprayed his face, the air sounded like the inside of a popcorn popper, and branches fell on his head. Alex wanted to crawl under a rock and hide, but he had to lead. Alex and Miguel dropped down behind John and Cat’s position and returned fire, but their firepower had the mere effect of pissing at an angry herd of charging buffalo. Alex and his crew needed to put more distance between them and Major Khan—fast.
John and Cat leaped to their feet and sprinted. Before they passed Alex’s position, Alex yelled, “Don’t stop running—just keep going!” He faced Miguel. “Miguel, let’s get the hell outta here!” They stood up and beat feet.
The four Outcasts ran at the same time without stopping. Alex jumped over bushes and logs. He dodged trees left and right, running for his life. The others did the same. A bullet grazed the inside of Alex’s right thigh, tearing his trousers and cutting his flesh. John ran with a limp and slowly fell behind. Seconds later, Miguel went down. Shit!
Alex stopped to help Miguel up, but he didn’t respond, so Alex hoisted him in a fireman’s carry and ran with him. Now Alex was behind his team. He raced to catch up. A bullet struck Alex from the back, almost knocking him to the ground, but Miguel’s body absorbed the bullet. Alex pumped his legs until they burned, then he pumped them harder. His lungs ignited, and he ran until he literally puked.
John ran with a limp twenty yards ahead of Alex. Cat continued twenty yards ahead of John. They were too spread out, but Alex didn’t want to tell them to slow down.
Fortunately, the Outcasts put so many trees between them and Major Khan’s men that the Outcasts couldn’t see any more Guards. The Guards probably figured that shooting trees was a waste of ammunition, so they stopped. Unfortunately, now they were probably running full speed after Alex and his crew.
The Outcasts couldn’t keep running west—deeper and deeper into the rain forest. They needed to get back to the ship. About five klicks south was the Paragua River. When a SEAL is in trouble, he heads for his home, the water. Alex radioed John and Cat. “Rally at Papa,” he said. Papa was their code for the Paragua River.
Alex saw John and Cat shift direction south before he lost eye contact with Cat. Even though John was running with a limp, he was still ahead of Alex. After about a kilometer, Alex lost sight of John, too. Alex tried to run faster but slipped and fell. B
efore he could pick himself and Miguel up, he noticed someone standing there watching. He startled Alex. The someone was a something—a monkey. The monkey bared its teeth and shrieked. As Alex stood up, the monkey charged him, but Alex jammed his rifle muzzle into the monkey’s chest. This time the monkey let out a scared scream and ran away. The monkey stopped and turned around to watch Alex, but he poked his rifle in the monkey’s direction, and it ran away for good. Alex picked up Miguel and ran south.
Eventually, Alex reached the river. The waters were dark and stretched three kilometers wide; he couldn’t see John or Cat. He called them on the radio. Cat gave Alex their GPS coordinates. He hurried downriver, where he found the two on the shore. John lay on the ground with his leg and arm patched with blood-soaked bandages. Cat sat next to him. “He lost a lot of blood,” Cat whispered. “Just passed out again.”
Alex felt the pulse in Miguel’s neck—nothing. Then Alex put his cheek next to Miguel’s mouth, but Alex felt no breath. Then he noticed a bullet had penetrated Miguel’s chest where his heart was. “Miguel is dead.”
“Oh, no.”
Alex glanced inland. “Major Khan and his friends will be showing up any moment. We need to get to the ship.”
“Time to get wet?”
Alex nodded. He blew air into Miguel’s life vest, inflating it. Likewise, Cat inflated John’s. Then Alex and Cat inflated their own vests. Miguel wouldn’t be needing his AKMS magazines of ammo anymore. Alex opened Miguel’s pouches, found four magazines, and divided them between himself and Cat. “Ready?” Alex asked.
Cat nodded. She and Alex pulled John and Miguel into the water with them and floated northeast holding on to each other. “John, wake up, buddy.”
John didn’t respond.
“Come on, John, wake up.”
Nothing.
“John, wake up.”
“Amen,” John said groggily.
Alex was happy to hear John’s voice. The river felt warm as they drifted down it.
“Cat, you okay?” Alex asked quietly.
“Just some scratches,” she replied. “Nothing serious. How about you?”
“Just some scratches.”
After five kilometers, they floated around a bend. Even if Major Khan tracked them to the water, now he couldn’t see them. Alex’s concern of Major Khan following them was replaced with a new concern. Something large and low to the ground waddled from shore toward them and disappeared with a splash—a thirteen-foot-long crocodile. With all the blood on Alex’s crew, he was sure they smelled like a delicious meal. He hoped the four of them together were too big for the crocodile and that its prey was something else. Not seeing the croc made Alex nervous, and he wished he had a bigger blade than his Swiss Army knife.
After Alex and Cat had floated fifteen more kilometers, Alex stopped worrying about the croc and started worrying about John. “Hey, John, buddy, wake up.”
John didn’t move.
“John, wake up.” Alex shook him, but there was no response. Alex tried some more. John still had a pulse and was breathing, but he wouldn’t wake up.
Soon, up ahead appeared the village—La Paragua. A school of fish swam through Alex’s legs.
“Ah!” John yelled.
Alex was happy to hear his voice but concerned about what the problem was. “What is it?”
“My leg! Something bit me.”
Something sank its teeth into Alex’s leg where a shot had grazed the inside of his thigh. The teeth were sharp as steak knives. Alex yelled.
“Piranhas!” Cat gasped in a whisper. “Swim to the shore!”
Alex kicked as hard as he could, worried the piranhas’ next target would be his crotch. Cat and John kicked, too. A piranha nipped at Alex’s trouser leg, so he kicked faster. Better to be a target that’s moving than one that’s stationary. One bit into his left calf and hung on. The pain was excruciating. Alex kicked so fast that his lungs ached. He turned in the water to swim on his side, which was the easiest position in which to hold Miguel and swim a one-handed sidestroke. Then Alex turned onto his back, where he could only kick. Alex kicked and turned until he flipped the piranha off, but all the movement seemed to stir the blood in the water and whip the piranhas into a feeding frenzy.
“Ow!” Cat yelled.
More piranhas gathered. Miguel received the worst of it because Alex, Cat, and John were too busy protecting their lives to protect his corpse. The piranhas feasted on Miguel.
Alex, Cat, and John reached the shore. Alex pulled Miguel out of the water, laid him down, and kicked the vicious little bastards off his body. Cat helped. John collapsed. After Alex and Cat had knocked all the piranhas off Miguel’s body, Alex stomped a piranha’s head into the mud.
Alex hoisted Miguel onto his back, and Cat carried John using the same fireman’s carry. They headed northwest through La Paragua. The village was quiet except for some dogs. After hiking the first klick, Alex was winded, but Cat seemed fine. Alex didn’t want to be beaten by a woman, and he didn’t want to show weakness. He didn’t like carrying Miguel through the village, but Miguel had given his life for the mission, and it was the least Alex could do. It was like many experiences in the Teams: You don’t have to like it; you just have to do it.
While walking the next klick, Alex wondered if the SUV would still be where they parked it. Did one of the locals steal it? Did the Guards find it? He wanted to prepare himself for the kick in the crotch when he found out it wasn’t there, but thinking about it now only made the hike more difficult. Live in the moment and just take things one step at a time. As was often the case, he’d just have to let himself be surprised by the kick in the nuts. The only easy day was yesterday.
One more kilometer later, Alex and Cat reached the green Ford Explorer, right where they’d left it. Alex and Cat laid Miguel and John on the ground. Cat covered the area with her AKMS rifle while Alex checked around the vehicle for signs of tampering or booby traps. There were none, so he retrieved the key from Miguel’s pocket and opened the door. Alex loaded Miguel into the third row of seats and Cat laid John across the second row. She elevated John’s wounded leg, placing it on his backpack, to slow the bleeding. Cat put his wounded arm on his chest to give it more elevation. Alex was too tired to drive, but Cat looked like she still had energy, so he gave the keys to her. She looked at him for a moment. Alex wanted to ask her what the look was for, but this wasn’t the time or place for a conversation, so he kept quiet and hopped into the passenger side of the SUV. Cat quickly sat in the driver’s seat and drove away with the lights off. Alex kept watch for anyone following. Cat drove through La Paragua, reached Highway 16, and traveled three kilometers north. “I’m going to turn on the lights so I don’t crash into something,” she said.
“Sure. No one is following us.”
Cat turned on the lights. There were no other cars on the road in front of them, and she gunned the engine.
Alex grabbed a water bladder from Miguel’s backpack and a blowout kit from Miguel’s pocket. Alex examined John’s breathing and pulse—he was still alive, but his skin was cold. He woke John.
“Let me rest,” John said.
“Just drink some water,” Alex said. “Then you can rest.” He tilted John’s head, placed Miguel’s water bladder tube to John’s lips, and squeezed it, wetting John’s lips. John drank for nearly a minute until the water stopped in his mouth and spilled out onto the seat. Alex decided not to push it, worried that John might vomit, resulting in more dehydration.
John passed out again. Blood had soaked through his bandages. Removing John’s bloody bandages would only cause more bleeding, so Alex put fresh bandages from Miguel’s blowout kit on John’s old bandages. Then Alex cleaned a particularly nasty bite from the piranha on John’s leg and bandaged it, too.
Alex radioed the USS Jason Dunham and gave them John’s medical status. They said they were ready to give an IV, blood transfusion, and whatever else he needed.
The jungle hid the horizon to the east,
but the sky above was brightening. Alex offered Cat some water.
“That’s Miguel’s water, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s pretty sick.”
“I’d expect him to do the same. Wouldn’t you?”
“You guys can use my water when I’m dead, but I’m not going to drink Miguel’s.”
“And if you run out of water, whose water are you going to drink? John’s? Mine?”
“Just let me dehydrate.”
“Have you been dehydrated? I don’t mean thirsty, I mean—”
“I said I’d rather die than drink Miguel’s water!” Cat cut him off.
Alex put the water down. He waited several minutes before speaking again. “You gave me a look when I gave you the keys to the SUV.”
“I was going to tell you that you look like how I feel.”
“I was pretty exhausted.”
“Is that why you asked me to drive?”
“Yes.”
“It’s awfully brave of you to admit that.”
Alex shrugged.
The sun shone brighter, and Cat would need to blend in as a civilian. She unbuttoned her cammie top and removed it with one hand while driving with the other. Beneath, she wore civilian clothes. “How are you feeling now?”
Easy Day for the Dead Page 21
