Stark Resolution (Stark Trilogy Book 3)

by C. D. Bradley

  “I don’t have night vision. I can’t see shit. What is your rank? I am a Captain, and I outrank you, so I am ordering you to take me to safety before you go traipsing off into the darkness,” Holt commanded, with all the authority he could muster.

  Stark laughed out loud, “Let me remind you that no one knows you are still alive. You don’t know where the fuck you are. You don’t have any equipment or training for this type of situation. You have zero chance of getting out of this jungle alive without us. At this moment, that is all the rank I need. So, what you are going to do, is shut the fuck up and follow my orders to the fucking T. Do you understand, Captain?”

  “Yes, sir,” Holt answered gruffly, but much quieter.

  “We are going to secure infrared reflective tape to your clothing, so that our team can tell you apart from the enemy. I need you to stay low and quiet, and move exactly as we tell you. We are going back into the hallway. I will lead the way. Hold this strap, so you can follow me.” Stark placed the strap into Holt’s hand. Colin followed behind, Holt helping to guide him. Silently, the trio entered the hallway, clearing the area as they went. They needed to do a complete search before they left the area. Stark reminded himself “slow is smooth and smooth is fast.” He led them to the next room. They looked over every crevice. While carefully moving Holt, they cleared the room and re-entered the hallway … one last room. Stark held out hope, although he was fairly certain she had been moved to the stable. Stark pushed open the door. This one was another bedroom, with an adjoining bathroom. Unlike the previous room, this one appeared lived in. The furniture was nicer. The bathroom smelled of hibiscus and shower gel. As they moved in to clear the bathroom, they were met with the warmth of someone's recent shower. Stark scanned the room to see if anyone was still there hiding.

  He almost missed them at first, the small pile of clothes on the bathroom floor. Something made Stark go over and pick them up. Holt, still holding onto the strap, followed and bumped into Stark when he stopped suddenly. Stark held up the garments. Foul smelling and covered in vomit, were a pair of women’s size small, North Face joggers, and a white tank top. Stark swallowed hard. He loved those pants on her. She had been in this room. Had she been the one to shower here? Fuck. What had happened to her? Stark clenched his teeth and gripped the fabric. He would fucking find her. Stark dropped the clothes, and turned back toward the hallway. He was done playing games. Stark moved defiantly back out into the hallway toward the exterior door they had just passed. It led to the courtyard on the eastern side of the house. Stark paused, peering out into the night. He scanned for any movement on the lawn before him.

  “Viper Three, this is Viper One. Do you copy?” Stark began.

  “Viper One, this is Viper Three, read you loud and clear. What is your location?” Miller replied.

  “We are at an eastern door, three fourths of the way down the southern hallway, about to exit into the rear courtyard.”

  “Viper One, I see you. The area is clear for the moment. Most of the movement is still on the south and western sides of the house. About twenty yards in front of you, the fencing for the stables begins. Clear that fence, and stay low. It will lead you straight to the first stable and provide cover.”

  “Copy that, Viper Three,” Stark replied, then turned to relay the instructions to Holt. “We are going to move twenty yards north to the wooden fence line. We will need to hop the fence, then follow it to the stables. Stay low.” Stark moved out the door and down the steps onto the pebbled courtyard. Stark and Colin moved without making a sound. Stark could hear every step that Holt took. Five yards of crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch. “For fuck’s sake!” Stark cursed, silently. There were still fifteen yards to go to reach the grass. He contemplated stopping and picking the fucker up, but Holt started to step lighter, so Stark kept going.

  “Halfway there, Viper One. You’ve got a couple of enforcers coming your way around the side of the house, eleven o’clock. They are still about fifty yards off, but walking your way,” Miller warned over the earbud.

  “Roger that, Viper Three,” Stark returned quietly with the throat mic. Please God, let the little shit step light. Stark picked up the pace, and they moved double time toward the fence.

  “Viper One, they are just about around the side of the house. You will be in their possible line of sight in twenty seconds,” Miller warned again. “You are in the dark, but that is starting to be a problem. They may see movement. You are going to need to freeze in fifteen.”

  “Roger that,” Stark replied, and pulled Holt even faster. They were closing in on that fence, if they could just make it to the other side.

  “Ten … nine … eight …” Miller counted down, giving them warning.

  They reached the fence. Stark and Colin helped Holt to climb over, and Stark followed him.

  “Two … one … Freeze,” Miller called out. They all froze. Sergeant Colin was stuck on the wrong side of the fence.

  “This is Viper Two, I am on the western side of the fence. Viper One, move on without me. I can catch up, as soon as Viper Three gives me the all clear to hop the fence. At the rate, you two are moving, I’ll be able to catch you long before you reach the stable.”

  Everything in Stark’s training told him NO. He should wait on Sergeant Colin, but Kira may lay bleeding to death just a few yards away, and he had a fucking doctor right here. “Roger that. Viper Two, we are on the move.” Stark began moving slowly and quietly, covered by the fence and bordering grasses. He could hear Sergeant Colin and Sergeant Miller over the headset.

  “Viper Two, this is Viper Three. Lay low. Those enforcers are sweeping the courtyard looking for something.”

  Stark had no doubt that Sergeant Colin would blend into the brush along the fence. That guy was a fucking chameleon. Stark pushed the worry out of his head and kept moving, pulling Holt behind him. God, Kira, please be ok. We are so close. Just hang on a little longer.

  A break in the clouds opened the night sky to millions of stars and one bright-ass moon. It would be beautiful, if that fucking moonlight wasn’t blowing their cover. The odor of horse manure grew stronger as they neared the stables. The area behind the hacienda was eerily quiet, save a few far-off shouts, as enforcers communicated with each other in the dark.

  “Viper Two, that moon is lighting you up like a fucking birthday candle. Those enforcers are less than twenty yards from your position.”

  “Viper Two, that’s too fucking close. Can you take them out?” Stark responded into the mic. He felt torn between going back to cover Sergeant Colin, and moving forward to save Kira. Kira was the objective at the moment. Colin had trained for situations like this.

  “Roger that,” Colin replied.

  Stark paused, and listened intently to the earbud. He imagined Colin sitting in the darkness. He would have to be swift and accurate, taking out both enforcers with his silenced HK416. Two shots, two kills. No room for error. Seconds that felt like hours passed, as Stark waited for his best friend to report back in.

  “I’ve got a bead on one,” Colin reported very quietly. Sergeant Colin lined his sights up on the closest enforcer. One breath … in and out. On the exhale, he pulled the trigger and the enforcer dropped quietly to the ground. “One enforcer down. Now for the … oh shit …” Colin turned in time to see the second enforcer had his weapon pointed directly on him … no time to react. Fuck, this was it. Before Colin could even move or brace for impact, he saw the enforcers head jack to the side as a sniper round went clean through it. Pink mist peppered the area as the body fell quietly into the gravel.

  “Viper Three, I believe I owe you a beer,” Sergeant Colin called in, and exhaled slowly, what could have been his last breath.

  “Roger that, Viper Two, as soon as we get back. You are clear to join Viper One,” Miller replied.

  Stark let out a long exhale. He and Holt had reached the edge of the first stable. They waited for Colin to join them, and watched for any sign of activity around the stables.r />
  “Viper Three, do you have a clear visual of the stables? Anyone moving about?” Stark questioned.

  “Negative, Viper One, our view is limited. There is some light movement, like a flashlight in stable two, but our line of sight is not clear,” Miller reported.

  “Viper One, this is Viper Two. I am coming up behind you,” Colin reported, as he approached.

  “Nice of you to join us,” Stark chided. “We need to move to the second stable. Overwatch does not have a good visual, so we will need to keep our eyes open, and clear the area as we go.”

  They moved as a unit, keeping Holt between them, along the side of the first stable. The pueblo style stables were cobble stone from the ground up to about three feet, then stucco to the large half pipe roof. The roof hung over one side about fifteen feet, supported by large hand hewn logs. This created a large, covered work area in front of each stable. Heavy wooden doors that could open all the way, or in the middle, marked each stall. Some were closed, others half open. This presented a significant challenge with clearing the area as they passed. Stark paused at the corner of the stable. From this end, he could see one side of the second stable clearly. He did not see any signs of light from this angle.

  “Viper Three, this is Viper One. Do you still have a visual on that light in the second stable?”

  “Affirmative, Viper One. There is still a small light in the southern end of stable two,” Miller replied.

  Stark took a moment to scan the area. With the way the buildings were staggered and the varying moonlight coming through the clouds, they would be better off to travel along the covered porch of the first stable. Then, they could cross over to the second. For the last quarter, they would be mostly exposed if the moon was peeking between the clouds.

  He turned the corner, praying that Holt would figure out how to walk heel to toe fucking soon. Stark and Colin moved silently across the terracotta tiles. Holt could wake the fucking dead. Thwap, thwap, thwap. Shit, shit, shit! With each step, Stark’s frustration grew. He contemplated taking Holt’s shoes and beating his ass with them. Then, he would have to walk quietly on his bare fucking feet. The little dipshit was going to get them all killed. As they approached the end of the stable, Stark led Holt into the dirt. He didn’t want to scare the boy taking care of Kira. We are so fucking close Kira. Hang on baby.

  Stark’s heart was racing as they crossed those last hundred feet over to the second stable. He could see light now at the end of the building. They stayed low, moving around the corner without making a sound. At least Holt could be quiet in the dirt. A room on the end of this stable had a large double door and two windows. One of the windows was open. Stark paused beneath it, listening. He could hear movement inside; frantic movements of shuffling and packaging being ripped open. He imagined the frightened boy scout trying desperately to keep this woman alive. Stark rose, slowly and silently, to get a visual. He turned off his NVGs and removed the strap from Holt’s hands, so he could move freely without a tagalong. Though the light coming through the window was dim, it would be enough to harm his eyes. Light from a gas lantern lit up the room within. Stark stayed in the shadows and looked inside. He could see a woman lying on a table. Her face was turned away from him, but dark chestnut hair cascaded everywhere. Her white tank and pants were stained with blood and dirt. A white dress shirt was tied around her, but he couldn’t see from here if it was on her chest, or shoulder. The boy scout must have half dragged her here. Where is the damn boy scout, anyway?

  Just then, movement behind the door caught Stark by surprise. A mallet swung inches from his head. Stark burst through, knocking the assailant back, and rushed the room to subdue him. The last thing he wanted to do was kill a fucking boy scout. The shirtless man was taken by surprise, but not knocked down. He moved quickly, to stand in front of Kira to shield her.

  Stark stood staring.

  This was no boy scout.

  STARK STOOD, HK416 aimed at the chest of this half naked Peruvian playboy, who stood over Kira. “Who the fuck are you?” Stark demanded. Holt and Colin entered the room behind him.

  “Stop!” Holt interrupted. “Javier, is she alive?”

  The man’s panic softened slightly when he heard Holt’s voice, then abruptly vanished when he took in Holt’s appearance. Stark had to admit, Holt was a sight. Seeing him in the light now for the first time, it was worse than he had thought. His face was bruised, his left eye swollen almost shut. Stark wasn’t a doctor, but he was pretty sure Holt had a couple fractures in there somewhere.

  “Doctor Holt? I didn’t know you were here. Did they take you too? Ese cabrón loco! This is all my fault! I was trying to help Kira! I didn’t know my brother would do this. Please help, Doctor Holt!” Javier spewed his best English, despite his obvious panic. He was covered in sweat, his eyes wide searching them for help. “I found her in the house after the gunshots rang out upstairs. I ran up to see what was happening. My brother, the other men, and Kira were all down. Estaba luchando por respirar. La sangre estaba por todas partes!” he divulged back into Spanish as fear took over.

  Stark and Holt pushed passed Javier and ran to Kira’s side. She lay unconscious, on a large metal veterinary table. Blood was spattered on her face and matted in her dark hair. Her white tank top was soaked crimson and a previously white dress shirt was tied tightly around her left shoulder. A tight wheezing sound escaped in short gasps from her lips. Stark grabbed her hand. Her fingers felt cold and clammy. He wanted to grab her up, but knew he needed to let Holt work. As much as he despised Holt, he was thankful as fuck to have him here now.

  Holt checked her pulse at her neck. “Kira, can you hear me? It’s Liam. Kira, you are bleeding, but you need to hang on. It looks like you have been shot.” Holt’s voice cracked. “She has a pulse, but it’s thready. She has lost a lot of blood. Her respirations are shallow.”

  Stark moved to the other side of the table to give Holt room to work. Holt paused and looked up at Stark, his eyes wide, and swallowed hard. Carefully, he removed the dress shirt tied around her shoulder. Blood and bubbles immediately began to ooze from the wound with each weak respiration. Holt stepped back, horrified.

  “What the fuck are doing? You’re a doctor, God damn it! Fix her!” Stark commanded.

  “I’m not a surgeon!” Holt wailed. “We are in a horse barn, in the middle of the fucking jungle! I don’t have any equipment. What do you want me to do?”

  Stark ripped her tank top, exposing most of her chest and back so he could get a better look. He then rolled her over to look at the entrance wound.

  “What are you doing?” Holt shouted. “You can’t just move her around like that!”

  A hole, just bigger than a penny, oozed blood just above her shoulder blade. The exit wound on her chest was about the size of a silver dollar, just below her collarbone. The flesh was exposed, with bits of bone showing part of a rib.

  “I want you to get your head out of your ass and stabilize the open chest wound,” Stark growled back. “Javier, this is a vet room, right? What supplies do you have?”

  “Sí, this is the stable infirmary. What do you need?” Javier replied.

  “She needs IV fluids, cautery, antibiotics …” Holt said, wringing his hands. “She needs a fucking OR.” Holt paced back and forth. He was rocking as he walked.

  “Listen, Doogie Howser, did they not give you a trauma medicine course? Can you not start a fucking IV? Most soldiers don’t have the good manners to get injured in a fucking hospital. This is battlefield medicine, dipshit. Now pull up your big girl panties and put some pressure on that fucking wound.” Stark contemplated slapping the shit out of him to bring him back to the present moment. “Inspect the wound, damn it. You are the doctor. Tell us what you need.” Though Stark was not a doctor, he had ten years experience with battlefield wounds. To say this was not his first rodeo would be like asking Lane Frost if he had ever seen a bull before. Stark pulled his med pack from his vest.

  “Holt, that is a fuck
ing chest wound. See the bubbles? Every time she struggles to breathe, the wound sucks in air, and traps it, collapsing her lung further.” Realizing Holt was not going to be the help he needed, he pressed his mic, “Viper Four, do you copy? We have located the second hostage, but she is in bad shape. She appears to have a bullet wound entering above the shoulder blade and exiting the upper left chest, just below the collarbone. She has a pulse and is struggling to breathe, but is not conscious. I see bubbles and blood coming from the wound. Can you advise?”

  “Copy that, Viper One. This is Viper Four. Do you have your med kit? How big is the bullet hole?” Taylor asked.

  “Affirmative,” Stark answered, as he unrolled the kit on the table beside Kira. “The exit wound is about the size of a silver dollar.”

  “Roger that. Do you have a radial pulse on that side?” Taylor asked, his concern radiated through the earbud, though his voice remained level.

  Holt was the color of parchment. “We need, um … fluids … and an IV,” he squeaked. He checked her pulse again. “Her pulse is weak and rapid.”

  Stark could see Holt was losing his shit, and he needed to move fast. Kira was fading. Javier began digging through cabinets, pulling out everything that could possibly be useful.

  “Roger that pulse, Viper Four, but it’s weak,” Stark responded.

  “Viper One, it sounds like the bullet has created a sucking chest wound. Can you evaluate her breath sounds?” Taylor asked.

  Stark turned to Holt. “Can you listen to her breath sounds?”

  “I don’t have a fucking stethoscope,” he blurted, desperately.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Stark huffed and placed his ear to her chest on the right and then the left, “Viper Four, I can’t hear breath sounds on the left. She is really struggling.” Stark’s voice was tight. Please for the love of God Kira, FIGHT!