Invaluable (The Trident Code Book 2)

by Alana Albertson

  The universe must’ve acknowledged my realization because a blinding flash of light streaked through our vehicle as an echoing boom radiated beneath us. Followed by the overwhelming sounds of shots pelting the vehicle to our front.

  The vehicle jostled us back and forth before coming to a stop. My lungs burned. I began to cough, and a sinking feeling dropped to the pit of my stomach.

  High wails came from the occupants of the vehicle, and I froze. The uncertainty of what just happened caused my breath to catch. Though I had a pretty good idea.

  Maya shrieked next to me. “What was that?”

  It sounded like an IED explosion and the use of AK-47s. But I wasn’t sure.

  “I don’t know.” I spoke calmly, trying to reassure myself everything was okay more than pacify her. She had always been there for me. We took care of each other. The least I could do was keep her calm. Inside, I was shaking. But I wouldn’t let that show. I took her hand in mine. “We’re going to be fine, Maya,” I whispered as I gripped her hand. She hunched down into my side, and I wrapped my arms around her, looking toward the hard plastic separating us from the driver and officer in the passenger seat. “Stay down.” I lifted a fraction. The scene in front of me was a horror story.

  The Humvees before us had exploded, and sand and clouds of smoke surrounded us. Definitely an IED. One big and powerful enough to take out two vehicles, leaving us vulnerable. “We’ve been attacked. I repeat, we’ve been attacked,” the soldier on the passenger side barked into the radio communicating back to the base.

  “Everybody stay down!” the driver instructed. His booming voice roared like I’d never heard before. Immediately after, both soldiers jumped out of the truck. And the roar of unmistakable gunshots pierced my ears. They came in a rapid succession.

  Pop, pop, pop, pop.

  Gunshots drowned out the shrieks of the girls. My breath labored, I couldn’t make myself move. I watched in horror as local men shot at the vehicles from high above. With a white truck rushing down the mountain, weapons appearing from every opening of the vehicle. Maya yanked on my arm, urging me to hunch back down. The shimmer of white smoke and the rancid smell of gunpowder and death wafted in the air.

  We were under attack.

  The two soldiers shot back. Coming out of my trance, I dropped to the floor. “We’ll be okay if we do as we were told.” I tried to assure the rest of the girls and the director. My words were futile, but complete panicking was pointless. It would serve us no good if we wanted to survive. The incessant gunfire of the AK-47s assured me the massive bomb that had gone off had been the least of our problems.

  Our nightmare was just beginning.

  Gun power surrounded us. And the truck rocked viciously. The amount of time passing was irrelevant, whether seconds or minutes, it still felt as if years were taken off my life. My forehead throbbed, resembling one of the intense, pounding headaches accompanied by nausea, vision blurs, and debilitating pressure I experienced when I had the misfortune of having a migraine.

  Our reality took center stage, the disorientation becoming a second thought as queasiness crawled up my throat. We were supposed to be safe. Kyle had given me his word—why hadn’t he been on this convoy escorting us?

  I refused to die scared. Maya held me with a death grip, and I grew defiant. I needed to know what was happening. I repeated my earlier action and peeked through the plastic divider, my gut clenching at what I saw, and I held my hand to my mouth. Blood, and our driver slumped over the shattered, bullet-pierced window. The bile working its way up my throat made a comeback. I was going to be sick.

  I hunched back down, dragging in breath after breath. My mind raced, fighting the pain in my head as I got my wits together, attempting to control the nausea. We’d been targeted. Would the shooters kidnap a bunch of Americans and hold them for ransom? The political words “we don’t negotiate with terrorists” ran through my head.

  Through the chaos, I heard a haunting grunt and just knew the other solider had been killed. Maya whimpered at my side. It was deafening. She’d heard the grunt. Tears streamed down her face in droves, my own impending tears struggling to break free. She pulled at my arm again. “Sara, please.”

  I nodded. We huddled back on the floor of the vehicle. And my body shook anticipating what might happen next. At any second, men could burst in, killing us like they’d killed the soldiers. Perspiration broke out across my brows, cascading down into my eyes. They stung. I wiped at the sweat and momentarily gazed around in slow motion at the scared faces and our skimpy tank tops peeking from underneath our thin, tight jackets. And envisioned our possible outcome. Our apparel could anger some. We could be raped. I braced myself, holding onto Maya, and stared out the back of the truck. Through the fog, I saw the remaining Humvees had veered out, each to opposite sides, the soldiers surrounding the convoy. It almost looked like a tree’s branches. They fired back at the enemies, and I grew wary of how any of the USO personnel could help. But before I could formulate any type of plan, the vehicle started moving.

  My eyes watered and chills spread over the entire length of my body. This couldn’t be happening, the transport was still on. I now saw the side profile of a swarthy man with a long beard driving the vehicle, his similar-looking wingman to his right. My heart grew heavy. They’d killed our protection. I couldn’t help but think, were we next?

  The rest of the girls were finally clued in on our looming future. Our terrified director no longer held her usual control. Her face had paled and she stared off at nothing in particular. A reluctant hush filled the air, and we all became silent, less the muffled sobs.

  I closed my eyes and did something I hadn’t done for years.

  I prayed.

  I gave a short prayer for the soldiers whose Humvees had exploded. Then the driver and passenger. They’d made the ultimate sacrifice. And I prayed for Kyle to come for me, and rescue us, to tap into his spiritual side and be guided in his path toward me. Not as my lover, or my boyfriend, or even my friend, but as the only man who I trusted and believed could save us now.

  11

  Kyle

  An hour after the convoy left, the first chilling call came through the radio. We’d been tuned into the channels communicating with each vehicle on the convoy. SEALs were considered elite and didn’t do these types of convoys. Instead, we were on the QRF; quick response force.

  I lowered the weapon I was cleaning in my compound and listened as a soldier shouted that they were under attack. The hairs on the back of my neck immediately stood on end. I didn’t want to be right. My gut had tried to warn me, and I had ignored it. God damn it.

  The radio grew quiet. Shit. That was a bad sign. When a convoy was attacked, whenever possible soldiers were trained to stop the convoy and move the vehicles out to the sides to remove themselves from the danger zone. Soldiers that weren’t hit were to get out of the vehicles and assume defense fighting positions. It was their way of surrounding the convoy, forming a barrier of people with weapons. Each vehicle had a radio running on the same frequency communicating with the base. The fact that we’d only received one call and it had been dropped told me those soldiers had to vacate the vehicles to eradicate the attackers. Fuck.

  I tightened my loud bearing vest and looked over to Pat, Vic, and the rest of my fire Team. “Load ‘em up.” No other words were exchanged, it wasn’t needed. We were expected to be quick-witted, trained to move at a moment’s notice, and that’s what we did just then. We began to collect our weapons when the second call came in.

  “The USO convoy was ambushed. A roadside bomb has disabled two vehicles. The medics still on board will assess the damage and provide immediate medical attention to as many as possible. We were under heavy enemy fire. There are casualties. We also have a hostage situation. The first troop carrier containing the USO guests was taken. The driver and officer on board were killed. We need immediate backup.” That was the vehicle Sara was in. The look on my face clued the guys in to my thoughts. />
  “You don’t know what happened, man,” Pat stated sympathetically. He knew I was thinking about Sara. I nodded, removing the fucked-up thought from my head. My thought process was warped with anguish and I had to be positive. With the help of my Team, we loaded our weapons and sprinted back to our command. A quick briefing was conducted before our forty-man Team took off. My eight-man fire squad, which consisted of myself, Vic, Pat, Grant, Mitch, Shane, Erik, and Joaquín, led the convoy.

  As swiftly as we could, we climbed into the first available Humvee, the up-armored metal camouflaging our surroundings. Luckily the vehicles were checked daily so finding ready-to-go Humvees was never a problem. Each vehicle contained four SEALs. I sat in the front passenger seat in the foremost vehicle, wanting the first opportunity at destroying our enemy. The vehicles couldn’t have moved any faster—we shot out of the base like bats out of hell, gunning it down the road. Our vehicles sped through the desert on the path the convoy had taken. Roadside bomb, my ass. Sure we had them all the time, but my gut told me this was no random attack. These Americans had been taken for a reason, to be made examples of. Soon enough we’d find out what we were dealing with.

  Pat saw it first. “Fuck, man.”

  Passing another mountainside hill, we approached the convoy, and a few soldiers waved at our incoming vehicles. Strewn on the side of the road, in the midst of a sand storm, were over a dozen bodies. The damage inflicted was ghastly. Soldiers, American men. All brutally shot, each one missing their weapons. No matter how many times we’d gone through this, it never got easier.

  Joaquín, our driver, stopped the Humvee. At the drop of a hat, Vic, Grant, and Shane jumped out first—they were Corpsmen and the best equipped to handle the situation. If there was any chance they could save one soldier, then their assistance would be worth it.

  I turned and gave the surrounding area a once-over, assessing my perimeters. Staring up at the steep mountains, I immediately recognized the path the assailants had used to attack. These bastards had executed their plan to perfection, outnumbering the soldiers. By blowing up the first two vehicles, the fire power raining down from the mountains had taken the rest of the men off guard. It must have taken seconds. And within minutes, they’d driven off with an entire cheerleading squad and one of our fucking vehicles.

  I exited the Humvee. Pat, Mitch, Joaquín, Erik, and I followed shortly behind the Corpsmen, our guns scanning the landscape, looking for targets. Following the briefing instructions we’d had back at the base, each man got to work. Some checked the area and others spoke to the surviving soldiers, getting any intel that would be helpful. The medics provided medical attention and assisted the horrified athletes and their coach.

  Shane stood to my side and checked one of the soldiers’ pulse as Vic and Grant tended to the other nearby men.

  “Dead.” My heart ached.

  “Same here,” Vic announced.

  “Fuck.” I knelt beside one of the men, closed his eyes, and prayed over his body. I wasn’t a chaplain, but being a reverend’s son compelled me to pray for his salvation, despite my faith being constantly tested at war.

  A SEAL pointed to the same tire tracks I’d seen. “The vehicles were definitely ambushed. The perpetrators came down that side of the mountain.” He pivoted, signaling down the road. “And followed that path. There must be a village close by.”

  “For sure this was a targeted attack,” Vic added. “The girls could be anywhere. One hundred bucks says the troop carrier was abandoned somewhere up the road. It’s too risky for them to be seen in it. And if you check the top of those mountains, you’ll see tire tracks going whichever which way. The rest of those motherfuckers hightailed it back into one of the villages or hidden caves.”

  I simply nodded. I didn’t need to speak. He was right. We’d done this enough not to know what happened. I needed to gather my thoughts, and as the squad leader plan of action with my men.

  I glanced around at my squad, every part of me filling with pride. I was in charge of the best SEALs. We respected and believed in each other. If anyone could save these women, we could. And we would.

  I started walking in the direction of the remaining troop carrier, praying along the way. I knew how frightened the girls must’ve been. I prayed to be guided to them, to Sara. And let me honor my word of keeping her safe.

  I approached the troop carrier and first spoke to the coach. The elderly man wore a somber expression. The many creases surrounding his sunken eyes and flat-lined, quivering lips seemed to deepen by the second. He reminded me of my Pops. Though I’d never seen my Pops this scared. Most of the players wore the same expression. As big as they were, understandably, the players were overwhelmed and had plenty of questions. I assured them all their questions would be answered when they were safely back on base. After directing a good portion of the Team to finish attending to the players and provide medical attention to whomever necessary, my men loaded the fallen soldiers. This was one of the hardest parts of the job. The body count was more than we anticipated, and it hurt like hell each time we loaded another fallen soldier.

  Once everyone was loaded and secured, the convoy took off back to the base. We rode in silence. Out of respect for the lives lost, and out of hope that we’d be able to save the other innocent Americans who had been taken by terrorists when their desire had been simply to entertain us.

  I often felt that the public saw us SEALs as killers, as sadistic psychos who enjoyed killing. But seeing war, seeing innocent lives taken filled me with rage. Fuck yeah, I wanted to kill. I wanted to kill the motherfuckers who’d murdered in cold blood these innocent men. The purposely ruthless and unfeeling manner in which their lives had ended was hard to swallow. These were sons, fathers, and husbands who would never come home to their families. The same motherfuckers who took great joy in taking innocent women would pay. Make no mistake, I wanted their blood on my hands.

  I’d promised Sara I would keep her safe. And I intended to keep that promise. Whoever took her took the wrong girl. Because I would tear this country apart to find her.

  This was exactly why I’d left football.

  I’d never win MVP, never win a championship ring, but some heroes don’t play games.

  12

  Sara

  The minutes agonizingly dragged on as the truck barreled down the road. The more time that passed, the more hopeless everyone became. Little by little, being helpless chipped away at me. We had been living on a knife’s edge since the truck had taken off. The whimpers of my friends could barely be heard over the engine. We’d broken off in pairs, holding the other. Maya and I huddled together, praying. I kept telling her I knew Kyle and his Team would find us, but internally I was losing my nerve. My heartbeat raced, my limbs shook, and my stomach knotted. With each bump on the road, the contents of my last meal swished in my stomach in a bubbling, boiling mess. Our cellphones had lost reception as soon as we’d left the base. Many lost power. I’d asked a teammate the time. Found out they’d been driving an hour. We rode deep into the mountains. Landmarks looked the same, making it difficult to decipher where we were. My mind worked overtime. Long hours of watching too much television contributed in playing havoc with my thoughts. I wrung my hands to prevent them from shaking. Tugged my ears when the ringing prevented me from hearing their path. These terrorists could be taking us anywhere, maybe they planned to rape us, or behead us on live television. Almost worse than the thought of dying was imagining my mother watching her baby girl’s throat be slit by some sadist. The thought sickened me. Scared me to my core. The fear filling my lungs till I gasped for air. My trembling breath mixed with a quiet sob.

  The vehicle slowed to a stop, and terror gathered in my belly. It felt like the rapid descent of a roller coaster crashing into the ground. My chest wall ached with the rattling pace in which my heart pounded. We were at mercy of these insurgents.

  Maya clutched my hand harder, her skin clammy.

  The ignition became silent. Doors ope
ned and shut. Then a man with wiry hair and crazy eyes came into view at the back of the vehicle, an AK-47 with a ton of ammo wrapped around his chest.

  Kyle… Where are you?

  I stared at the grubby man. What were the motives of our captors? Ransom? Exchange? Or perhaps to humiliate and punish immodest American women.

  The crazy-eyed man scanned the back of the truck with his weapon. His erratic movements controlled every shallow breath I released.

  “Mobiles!” he boomed in broken English, waving the weapon like a flag.

  We tossed our phones onto the floor of the vehicle. For a second, I allowed myself to believe that we were just getting robbed. Yes they had murdered the soldiers, but maybe the terrorists just wanted the vehicle and their weapons. It was clear my mind was playing tricks on me, holding onto false hope.

  But my gut told me my ridiculous theory was nothing more than wishful thinking.

  I heard the roar of engines and for a beat hope filled me, returned with a powerful vengeance. Was it our rescuers? Please.

  No. A bunch of swarthy men entered our vehicle, each branding an AK-47. The weapons served their purpose of intimidation.

  Snatched by the back of our necks, we got pushed off the truck. Crazy Eyes chose me to grab. The stench of his grimy hand revolted me. Trying to free myself from his hold, I lost my footing and fell to the ground, taking Maya with me. “Oof.” I winced. Dirt had kicked up when I met the ground. I could taste it.

  “Up!” Crazy Eyes barked. My eyes narrowed, and I wiped my knees and helped Maya to stand. We were marched away from the truck in pairs, the ten of us outnumbered by our captors. No matter how we were dressed, I felt naked.

  I held onto Maya. There was no way in hell I was letting go of her hand. At the moment, she was my lifeline. My mouth was parched from the heat as I focused on three beaten-up trucks, mud splashed on the exterior. The men didn’t waste any time. We were split into two groups of three and one of four, and I felt some solace knowing I had Maya for comfort. We were separated randomly, depending on who we stood by. Denise, our director, was to my left, and became the third hostage in our group being led to the proposed new transportation. At first we kept our heads down and did as we were told. I got the feeling they didn’t want us looking directly at them too much. And I for one didn’t want to cause any uproar. Denise clearly didn’t feel the same. We’d almost made it to the truck when she dug her heels into the ground, refusing to take another step. Making an abrupt stop, I stood at her back and gave her a little nudge, willing her to move. “I refuse to walk to my death. I won’t give them the satisfaction.”