Backdrop

by C. G. Cooper

  The guard took a step backward, clean out of sight.

  Andy cursed. Without another thought, he stepped off at a crouch and began working his way toward the man, over the rocks, careful to stay as concealed as he could.

  His heart raced, his fingers tingling with adrenaline. He glanced back toward the helicopter and waved O’Brien, Caine, and Mansour toward the path. The three men worked their way downward.

  Down. Across the street. Find a telephone. It was either going to be easy, or it was going to be impossible. He might have just sent them out to be killed. But he couldn’t let up on the guy guarding the upper path, or they’d all be dead for sure. He continued forward, driving the attacker backward and upward.

  Finally, they came to an impasse. An area where Andy was either going to have to climb down onto the path or learn how to fly up to the top of the wall above him. The way up had become a cliff. If he jumped, he might be able to catch a handhold, climb up, and get a bead on the guy from above. Or get shot by the guy who had run back up the path.

  There wasn’t a sound coming from the castle other than a whistle of wind. Not even the sounds of scuffed feet or soft breathing. Not a single jingle of metal.

  He cursed under his breath. If the other guy wasn’t up there, there had to be another way down. Bracing himself, he jumped off the rocks and down onto the path, absorbing the impact of the fall in a crouch. The watcher, waiting for him, had settled into a good stance with his rifle already up at his shoulder, the sights already lined up.

  A burst of fire went over Andy’s head.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Missed.

  Andy returned fire, three perfect shots into the man’s chest.

  The man bent forward and sat on the path with a thump, his arms limp and his rifle abandoned in his lap. Andy rose, tipped the man over with his foot, and shot him again, twice in the heart. He motioned for O’Brien to pickup the weapon and follow.

  The, pressing his advantage, he ran up the slope.

  At the top of the path was a flat, open area surrounding the “castle,” which was really more of a low building occupying the plateau at the top of the rocks. A wall about three and a half feet high surrounded the area around the castle. The plateau ran along the top of the rocky ridge that the castle had been built on, the stone uneven and treacherous-looking.

  Andy did a quick sweep of the castle and found it abandoned, a tarp on the floor of one of the inner rooms. A check around the perimeter wall revealed no one climbing down the rock faces nearby.

  He reversed direction and ran down the path. He passed the single dead body, then the other two men lying on the path. The leg-shot one was definitely dead now. The other, he couldn’t tell with a quick glance. He hopped over them and kept running.

  Ahead of him, he could hear shouting. Then gunshots from one of the AK-47s.

  Shit. More guards were at the base of the path.

  He caught sight of Thompson at the rear, pressed flat against the rock. “Go back up the path, the castle’s clear!” Next to him was O’Brien. Andy grabbed the kid’s arm and shoved him toward Thompson. “Help him back up the path. Get to the castle at the top.”

  Ashburn and Cooper were next; he sent them back, too.

  That left Mansour and Caine. Mansour was hiding behind a ridge of rock that ran vertically along the steep rocks. He popped out, fired a couple of rounds, then ducked back in. Caine had a big red rock in one hand and was squat-walking downhill, using the cover of the rock wall along the path to conceal himself. The kid was right: if he’d had a gun it might have been a decent plan.

  A number of men were further down the path, firing from behind cover.

  “Your Royal Highness,” Andy said, “we’re going to move up to the castle.”

  “That sounds like a fine idea,” Mansour said calmly—almost distractedly.

  “Caine! Get your ass back up here.”

  “Goddamn it,” Caine whispered.

  Andy waved to Mansour. “I’ll cover you.”

  Andy popped up and fired one round as Mansour crept back uphill. No sense using a second shot. Their ammo was going to be strictly limited from here on out.

  He backed uphill, keeping the muzzle of the rifle pointed toward the lower path.

  Just as Andy was almost out of sight, Caine cursed and began squat-walking back uphill, speeding up and passing Andy. Apparently going out in a blaze of glory with only a rock in his hand didn’t seem as heroic without covering fire.

  They stopped briefly to search the two bodies. The last man was just hanging on to life. They came up with little more than a lighter and a pack of Turkish cigarettes, which Caine appropriated.

  Both men were dressed in black from head to foot.

  They kept moving. When they reached the next body, Andy signaled the other two to stop.

  “It’s us,” he said, as loudly as he dared. “Don’t shoot.”

  Thompson said, “Are you under duress, my dear boy?”

  “No,” said Andy. “And don’t call me boy.”

  “You may proceed.”

  The three walked forward, still cautiously, in case whoever was holding the gun got nervous. It was easy to make mistakes in a situation like this.

  The last turn led them up to the castle, where O’Brien was holding the rifle awkwardly, still aiming it in their direction. Andy took the weapon from the actor and felt his shoulders sag with relief. It’s not a good day at the office when you’re more terrified of your allies’ incompetence than your enemies’ bullets.

  Prince Mansour handed Andy his AK-47 and Ashburn welcomed him back with a happy exclamation and an embrace.

  Thompson was sitting on a boulder next to Cooper. The old man looked a bit green around the gills.

  The afternoon had turned the top of the castle into long, streaming shadows. Andy took a quick trip around the top. If there was another way down, he wasn’t seeing it. The slopes looked too steep. Sure, they could be climbed and descended. But not quickly and quietly. Not without a rope.

  What he didn’t see were any more of the attackers, either in the castle or below them. They hadn’t left. He hadn’t seen any vehicles leaving the area, for one thing.

  But then again, he didn’t see any vehicles going through the area. Not even on the highway that ran through the center of Al-Ula. It was as if a curfew had been declared and the roads had been blocked off or cleared. If the road had been blocked off, that was bad. It said that at least the city government was in play. Either the attackers had lied to some officials, or the people firing at them were government officials.

  When Andy had finished going over the outer perimeter again, he assigned Caine and O’Brien to watch it. One of them was to watch the path; the other was to walk around the waist-high stone wall and look over the sides to make sure no one was climbing up. If they didn’t see each other every couple of minutes, they were to come find him. He instructed them to point their weapons downward unless they intended to shoot, and keep their damn fingers off the triggers. He made Caine repeat it after him three times, and even then felt the ghost of a sweat bead between his shoulder blades as he walked away.

  Inside the castle, Ashburn stood up from beside Mansour. “We need supplies from the helicopter,” she said. “Specifically, the water.”

  “Any other emergency supplies you want me to pick up from the drugstore while I’m out?”

  She made a face, mentally stripping down her wish list to essentials. “A first-aid kit.”

  “Who’s hurt?”

  “Thompson’s sprained his ankle. Everyone has cuts and bruises. But right now I’m worried about Jack. He has that deep cut on his arm. It needs to be cleaned and stitched if we can find supplies. It was torn open in the crash. He’s bleeding pretty bad.”

  He took a breath to clear his head. “Mansour doesn’t recognize any of the attackers?”

  “He says not.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  She looked up at him, half-cloa
ked fear in her eyes. “I trust him.”

  “But?”

  She shook her head. “No buts.”

  “You’re sure.”

  She licked her lips. “Yes.”

  Either she couldn’t or wouldn’t tell him. Nothing he could do about it. Put it on the ever-lengthening list of stuff to figure out later.

  “Is there anything else we might be able to use in here? Have you gone over the rooms again?” He’d given the castle a once-over. No threats and no way out.

  “I found some ammo boxes under a tarp in one of the rooms.”

  “That could be good news.”

  He followed her through a surprising number of twists and turns (the castle didn’t seem this large from the outside), to a small inner room that was so dark and shadowed that he’d actually missed the clay-colored, canvas tarp lying over a small mound in the corner on his once-over.

  When pulled back, the canvas revealed a small cluster of ammo cans. There were indeed more rounds for the AK-47s, as well as what looked like a few implements of torture: rope, blindfolds, scalpels, a large stone stained with blood...

  “Party city in here.” He lowered the tarp. “It looks like they were ready for a shootout.”

  Ashburn said, “And worse.”

  “Don’t say anything about that to the others. Not yet.” He looked around the room again.

  “What?”

  “The bad guys got out of here too damn fast, and I can’t figure out how they did it. Keep your eyes peeled and let’s keep everyone together.”

  She nodded. Ashburn was doing her best to keep it together, but the situation was wearing her down.

  “Ever fired a rifle?” he asked, looking her square in the eye.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll be able to handle anything bigger than a .22 very well, except in an emergency. But if you find a pistol, I should be good.” She showed him her hands. They were tiny. “I’m a good shot, when I’m not trying to fire something that’s too big for me.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  They went back outside and walked the perimeter. Andy could feel Mansour’s eyes on his back.

  “I don’t like how the town is shut down,” he told her. “See the highway?”

  “I know what you mean. It’s too quiet, like the calm before the storm.”

  He frowned. “It does seem like that, doesn’t it? Let’s just hope we’ve got enough cover to survive it.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Prince Mansour, Thompson, and Cooper were inside the castle in the shade, in a room where they could see out to the path. O’Brien leaned against the rock of the parapet, his head turning back and forth. Andy hadn’t had time to get to know the man before their flight. It had all happened too quickly. O’Brien was a redhead with big ears, just slightly smaller than Caine. Ashburn had cast to physical type at least. Caine stood near the top of the path, chewing on some sort of weed stem. Nice touch. He looked the part.

  Andy squatted next to where Cooper was sitting on a rock. “How are you holding up, Jack?”

  “Could be better. Having a devil of a time trying not to scratch my arm.”

  Thompson said, “My dear boy, when, pray tell, are we getting out of here?”

  Andy gave him a lifted eyebrow. “When the bad guys give up and go home.”

  “I doubt that will be the case. Which raises the question, why aren’t we being rescued? I would have thought the other helicopter should have called it in, before turning tail and flittering away.”

  “Did you see when they turned around?”

  “No, I did not,” Thompson said. “I assumed they were behind us the entire way.”

  Andy turned to Thompson, “How’s that leg?”

  “I am in a considerable amount of pain,” Thompson said, with false dignity.

  “How much pain?”

  “A considerable amount. A grossly twisted ankle as well as some bleeding. My leg appears to be swelling up like a purple balloon.”

  “Any spurting or gushing?”

  “Not any longer,” Thompson said. “Although if you think that would be in order, I can probably arrange it.”

  “Were you shot?”

  “No.”

  “Can you put weight on it?”

  “I was able to put a slight amount of weight upon it earlier, when we were leaving the helicopter. My condition has worsened since then. I might be able to stand and limp a few steps, with assistance, but I would not be able to move at any useful speed.”

  “Do you think you could walk down the path if someone supported you?”

  “I might be able to hop.”

  “Okay.”

  “That was a joke.”

  “You’ll manage.”

  “However will you ever get us out of this predicament, Major Andrews?”

  Andy’s face was calm when he answered. “We have to assume that we’re not going to get any help. Reinforcements will be coming for them, not us. There’s an entire town on lockdown out there. I’m sure you’ve all noticed. We have to assume that the other helicopter is out of the picture—maybe the other pilots were bribed, maybe they had an equipment malfunction and had to turn back. Figure in a lack of radios or serviceable cell phones on top of that, and you see where we stand.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question to my satisfaction, I’m afraid, which was, what do you propose to do about our entrapment in this waterless, unheated, and decidedly-unstocked-with-liquor castle?”

  “I’ll let you know when I come up with something.”

  Andy went outside. He needed time to think.

  Outside, he took a breath of fresh air. Hot air, but fresh. He could hear birds, but still no aircraft, no car or truck engines, no distant traffic.

  He could hear a distant siren. But he couldn’t see any movement, and he couldn’t see any lights.

  The two actors remained at their posts. At least they knew how to follow a script.

  Andy cracked his neck. It was starting to get later in the afternoon. He wanted to wait until dark to make a run to the helicopter for supplies. Which meant he needed to bring at least one of the kids with him as backup and to help transport the stuff.

  He looked to the two actors. Caine stood wide-eyed, rifle at the ready, his head jerking at every sound, real or imagined. He wore a khaki bandana, and his Hollywood-sculpted torso was exposed. Audiences would get their money’s worth with this one.

  O’Brien, on the other hand, was lollygagging like a slacker, stopping every ten feet to lean against the wall and stare at dead sky ahead. He’d tied a white undershirt onto his head that covered the back of his neck. His suburban privilege dress shirt was buttoned up as far as it would go, the sleeves rolled up in the manner of some teen mag cover boy, just enough to keep the cuffs off his wrists. The gun hung slack from his shoulder. Andy could have walked up and taken the thing.

  Laziness vs. green ineptitude. Not much of a choice.

  He walked up behind Caine and cleared his throat. The actor spun around.

  “I’m going down to the helicopter later tonight for supplies. Feel like coming?”

  The actor shrugged. “I’m thinking I don’t have a choice.”

  “Right,” Andy said. “We’re also going to kill any bad guys that get in our way. Do you have a problem with that?”

  Caine fidgeted with his weapon. “No.”

  “Good. We’re going out just at sunset. Make sure you’re ready and able. If all goes well, we’ll be carrying a heavy load back from the helicopter.”

  “Roger that.”

  “And don’t say that. And if anything happens to me, grab any first aid kits that you can find and get back up here. Cooper and Thompson’s injuries need to be taken care of. And it will be your job to protect Ashburn and the others. I’m leaving her in charge.”

  “Ashburn? Really?”

  “She’s the only one of you idiots that I trust right now. You have a better choice?”

  The act
or thought for a moment. “Nope.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The sun lay on the line of the horizon off to the west, a burning ball of red flame that seemed to flatten as it slid out of sight. Waves of heat rose off the desert floor, throwing mirages into the air. The roads in and out of town were still blocked off.

  Andy had checked all three rifles, reloading them and passing out extra boxes of ammo to Caine and Mansour. He also ran through some basic scenarios and gave instructions on how to properly handle the weapons.

  As the sun had set, the prince had seemed to come back to himself. He’d asked to come along with the expedition to the helicopter, but Andy turned him down, despite his military experience. If he was the attackers’ target, then he would be even more of one out on the rocks. If he wasn’t the enemy’s ultimate goal, then he might just be a traitor who would shoot Andy in the back.

  So he left Ashburn in charge but gave Prince Mansour the rifle. O’Brien was visibly disappointed. Andy gave him directions to stay with Thompson and Cooper, in case either man needed help. Upon hearing Andy’s instructions, O’Brien gave Ashburn a speculative look.

  “She’s in charge while I’m gone, you got that?” Andy said.

  O’Brien opened his mouth, and Caine said, “Or you could crawl around in the dark surrounded by terrorists, try to find supplies in a helicopter splattered with blood and jet fuel, and try to carry them back here. Possibly by yourself, if Andy gets himself killed.”

  O’Brien rolled his eyes like a teenager. “You make it sound so appealing.”

  Andy and Caine took the darkened path slowly, squat-walking their way downward as quietly as possible, which in Caine’s case was more of a theatrical than an actual silence. At least he seemed to be getting better with time.

  They passed the first dead body—it hadn’t been touched. Andy searched it. Again, no personal information. O’Brien had snagged the rifle but hadn’t gone through the messy work of examining the body. There was a multitool, which Andy pocketed. They dragged the body to the side of the path and hid it amongst the rocks.