“When we move to extract, you’re responsible for blowing the two aircraft out there,” Frank ordered.
“Roger that, sir,” Brennan said.
Frank put his hand to his ear and said, “Hold on, I’m hearing they’ve made it and they have contact with some hostiles.”
“Lucky bastards,” Brennan joked.
Minutes passed. Taking the airfield had proven to be quite easy and with zero contact with any locals or hostiles.
Lieutenant Frank hovered in a far corner of the hangar, listening to the communications from the SEAL team and Raiders.
All seemed like it was going smoothly until…
“Sergeant Brennan, ready your squad!” Frank hollered.
“Yes, sir,” Brennan replied. He turned and called out, “First squad, rally to me.”
In seconds, Brennan was surrounded by his squad.
Vickers leaned in and whispered, “Either we’re leaving this boring-as-fuck place or please get us some action.”
Brennan ignored his friend.
Frank hurried over. “Sergeant Brennan, we’re needed at the research facility. They came under heavy resistance and they’re trapped.”
“Okay, what’s the plan, sir?” Brennan asked.
Frank pulled a map out of his sleeve pocket, unfolded it and turned on a flashlight with a red lens. “We’re here and this is the site. The fastest route there is directly north, but we have to go through this village just south of the facility.”
“How far?” Brennan asked.
“About a klick and a half,” Frank replied.
“Do you have a layout of the village?” Brennan asked.
“No.”
“Can one of the SEALS or Raiders illuminate with IR?” Brennan asked.
“I’ll find out, but you need to get moving now,” Frank said, urgency in his tone.
“Roger that, sir,” Brennan said. He turned to face his squad when Frank grabbed him by the arm.
“It sounds bad, real fucking bad. One of the Raiders is topside. He said the rest are down below, floors below.”
“Okay, sir.”
“You’re going to think this is crazy and keep this to yourself but he said something about monsters.”
Brennan chuckled then realized Frank wasn’t joking. “What the fuck does that mean, sir?”
“I don’t know, but they need support. Once we get them out of there, we’ll put a bird right down on top of you and pull you guys out.”
“Have you thought about sending two squads, sir?” Brennan asked.
Frank chewed on his lip as he pondered the idea- “We need to hold this just in case those villagers go crazy.”
“But, sir, they are receiving heavy contact and are now trapped. We should focus all of our attention on getting them out,” Brennan stressed.
“There’s no more time to waste. Take your squad and go,” Frank snapped.
“Copy that, sir,” Brennan said.
“Now get going,” Frank ordered.
Brennan turned and said to his squad. “You heard the LT, the SEALs and Raiders need us. It sounds like we’re stepping into a serious gunfight.”
Vickers leaned into Brennan and said, “We’re running a mile in MOPP gear, through a village of savages and into a firefight of unknown numbers? Have you ever seen Black Hawk Down?”
“Do you ever stop cracking jokes?” Brennan asked.
“It wasn’t a joke.”
“Let’s go. I’ll lead the way,” Brennan said, stepping off.
With his squad behind him, Brennan ran across the relatively flat terrain that separated the airfield and the small village. As they came up on the south end of the village, he slowed.
“All stop, take a knee,” he ordered.
He knelt down and looked for any movement.
Vickers came up alongside and said, “I don’t see shit. Looks clear.”
“Let’s keep moving,” Brennan said, stood and ran.
His squad followed.
They entered the village from the south. Brennan immediately beelined for the right side and hugged the structures close as they proceeded north.
Something seemed off. There wasn’t any light coming from a single house, hut or building. It was as if it was a ghost town.
In no time, they cleared the village.
Brennan slowed and radioed Frank. “Sierra Actual, where’s the IR? Over.”
“One sec. Over,” Frank replied.
A stream of light appeared to the northeast of their position.
“Got it, looks like we’re two hundred meters southwest. I’m switching over freqs to contact them. Over,” Brennan said.
“Copy that. Stay frosty,” Frank said and went silent.
“Romeo team, this is Sierra One. We’re two hundred meters southwest of your position. What’s the situation?” Brennan radioed.
“This is Romeo Eight. You’re clear, hurry,” the Raider Marine replied.
“Let’s go,” Brennan said, stood and ran towards the streaming light only he and his squad could see through their night vision.
Brennan and first squad reached the chain-link-fenced perimeter of the facility.
“How do we get in? Over,” Brennan radioed.
“West side,” the Raider Marine replied.
Brennan instantly thought how quiet it was for supposedly entering a hot site. He led his squad around and into the small compound that surrounded the large cinder-block single-story building. Near a row of thousand-gallon propane tanks sat the Raider Marine. Brenna jogged over and took a knee. The remaining members of his squad fanned out in a circle, all facing out.
“Thank God you’re here,” the Raider Marine said.
“I’m Sergeant Brennan. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Corporal Marzelli, um, that first floor is just empty. The only thing in there is a fucking single door that leads to a stairwell. It goes down three maybe four or more levels. I can’t remember.”
Brennan noticed Marzelli’s labored breathing. “Are you injured?”
“My shoulder, I got bit.”
Brennan turned and called out, “Corpsman up.”
In seconds, Petty Officer Third Class Perino appeared. “Who’s hurt?”
Marzelli raised his good arm. “Here, my shoulder.”
Perino flipped on a headlamp and looked. “What happened to you?”
“I was bitten,” Marzelli said.
“Yeah, you were. How odd,” Perino said as he opened his kit.
“Tell me more, hurry, I don’t want to walk in there blind,” Brennan said.
“Um, three levels down we enter some office spaces. We begin to start bagging everything. Drives, binders, folders, you name it. Others in the team proceed further down. There wasn’t any contact until we reached level five.” Marzelli paused.
“And that’s when you came under heavy contact?”
“There were cages, must have been dozens, hell, maybe a hundred. There were people in them. We thought…we thought they were prisoners. One of the SEAL members found the switch that opened them up, you know, like they have in prisons.” Marzelli paused and cringed as Perino applied a gauze to his wound.
“So are the rest trapped? I need an answer,” Brennan snapped. He wanted Marzelli to hurry up and get the story over with.
“As soon as the doors to the cells opened, all hell broke loose. They just…attacked us. They went through us so quickly. They were so fucking strong and fast. It was crazy, man, fucking crazy.”
“Are you the sole survivor?” Brennan asked.
“I don’t know. We fell back but they kept coming. They were so vicious. There were a dozen men left, me with them, as we raced up the stairwell to the surface. One by one they got picked off. I reached the door at the top, got through, but one jumped on my back and bit my fucking shoulder. I shot it in the face. It fell off. I killed it, so I know they die. I slammed the door and radioed for support.”
“You’re telling me everyone else is dead?” Brennan asked.
Marzelli looked up with crazed eyes and said, “I don’t know how anyone could have survived that.”
“You said some were trapped,” Brennan barked. He grew frustrated with Marzelli and his rambling.
“I don’t know who radioed that but…” he said staring at Brennan with wide eyes. “I don’t know how anyone could have survived that.”
Vickers had walked up and heard the tail end of Marzelli’s remarks. “Sergeant Brennan, what’s the word?”
“We hold tight until I hear back from the LT,” he replied.
“What the hell is he talking about?” Vickers whispered.
“I don’t know, but it sounds like everyone is dead,” Brennan answered. He turned back to Marzelli and asked, “The intel, did you get anything?”
“No,” Marzelli answered.
“Nothing?”
“It took everything for me just to get out of there. You weren’t there. It was crazy; they weren’t people, they were like…like fucking mutated humans or something fucked up like that, fucking monsters. They were monsters, man, monsters.”
Brennan shook his head. He was confused by Marzelli’s account and chalked it up to shock.
“Any station on the net, this is Tango Actual. Come in. Over,” a voice crackled over the radio.
Surprised by the transmission, Brennan replied, “Tango Actual, this is Sierra One. Go.”
“We need assistance. We’re barricaded in a room but we’re out of ammo and we can’t hold off these things much longer.”
“Where are you?” Brennan asked.
“Third level down, west hallway. I think we’re the second room on the right. You can’t miss us. We’re in the room those things are trying to get into.”
“Copy that,” Brennan said. He turned to Vickers and ordered, “Ready the squad. Get them over here.” Brennan couldn’t help but notice Tango Actual kept referring to things. What exactly were these things?
“You’re fucking crazy, man. Don’t go in there,” Marzelli urged.
“Just shut up and tell me the layout,” Brennan snapped.
Marzelli told him to the best of his recollection the facility’s floor plan.
Brennan turned to his squad, who encircled him. He opened a map, turned it upside down and began to draw with a black Sharpie. “We’ll enter the stairwell here. On each level there are three hallways. A north, south and west. On level two down the north hall, Corporal Marzelli says there are bags full of intel. Dietz and Harmon, your job is to gather that intel and immediately take it to the surface. Everyone else, we’re going down to get those guys on level three. We’re facing, from Corporal Marzelli’s account, a lethal enemy. We’re weapons free; kill anything that gets in your way. We’ll snatch these guys, get topside and get the fuck out of here.”
Copenhagen, Denmark
David didn’t know what was worse, his head pounding from the intense hangover or the fact he had fallen off the wagon and broken the promises of so many people he pledged sobriety too. He couldn’t stop thinking about his betrayal with each drink but the more he consumed the less he cared. Like usual with anyone who has awoken with hung over, the regret now took center stage.
The light of the day was streaming through the edges of the drapes with the hum of cars from the street below telling him he had missed an interview he was supposed to shoot with the Today show. He picked up his phone on the nightstand but found it dead. He scrambled and found the cord and plugged it in.
Unexpectedly the bathroom door opened and a woman draped in a towel came out.
He was shocked to see her and sat up in the bed, not knowing what to say. He recognized her but not from anything that would have led to them being in his room.
“So sorry I have to run. There’s been some arrests north of Paris. I need to meet my team,” the young woman said, dropping the towel and putting on her clothes.
David looked at her slender body and now wished he remembered the night before. He placed his hand on his head and squeezed to rid himself of the crushing headache. “Ah, no problem, um, I know this is bad but we, um…”
“Great, way to make a lady feel special.” She laughed.
“I, um, sorry, I drank way too much last night.”
She pulled on her boots and faced him. “We both did, but luckily for me I remember because it was good, in fact, real good. I wish I had more time this morning.”
A grin cracked his stoic face. Having a woman declare your bedroom abilities always could brighten a man’s day. “Glad I could be of service.”
She grabbed her jacket, bag, and headed for the door in a hurry. Stopping just before leaving, she purred, “Let’s do this again tonight.” She blew him a kiss and exited.
“Hmm, this time I won’t drink too much so I will remember,” David said out loud.
His phone pinged, reminding him of the missed interview he had that morning. He unlocked it and scrolled to Max’s number. He needed to call him and apologize.
Notifications suddenly popped up: twenty-three voicemails, fifty-eight texts and the inbox of his e-mail was filling fast. “Shit, I’m such a fuckup.”
Before he called Max, he decided to see what the texts had in store for him. Of course, most were Max screaming at him with all caps but one caught his attention, it wasn’t a number he recognized. He opened it up and began to read. The more words he read, the more his pulse rose. Not waiting, he replied.
Excited, he stood up and began to pace the room. “Holy shit, this is it, this is it.”
The phone rang. He sprang over and grabbed it. “Please be him.” His hopes were dashed when he saw it was Max. Knowing he had to pay the piper, he answered, “Sorry, I overslept, but I’ve got good news.”
“What the hell, Dave, that was a huge interview but luckily for you they’re forgiving considering the circumstances you’ve been through. I’ve got you slotted for tomorrow same time.”
The phone buzzed notifying him another call was coming in.
“Max, hold on.” He pressed to answer it. “This is David.”
Silence.
“Hello, this is David.”
“David, my friend, glad to hear your voice,” a man said with a thick Middle Eastern accent.
“Who is this?”
“I saw you on the television. I see you’re becoming famous.”
“Who is this?” David again asked.
“You forget so easily. Remember two years ago, we shared tea at the Saffron Ankara Hotel.”
David raised his eyebrows and dropped his jaw when he realized who he was talking with. “Oh, my God, why are you contacting me? The last time—” David said but was interrupted.
“I defected.”
“What? How?”
“That’s exactly why I’m calling you. I have a story and you’re the only person I’d tell it to.”
“Where are you?”
“Come to Ankara immediately. I don’t have much time. Hurry, my friend.”
“Yeah, sure, I’m on my way. Um, hold on, how will I find you?” David asked.
“I’ll find you. Hurry, my friend, hurry.”
The phone clicked and went dead.
David was shocked. Joram was the last person he expected to hear from. He stared blankly for a second before realizing he had left Max on hold. He clicked over. “Cancel all the interviews and book me a ticket to Ankara, leaving as soon as possible.”
“What?”
“Fucking do it.”
“Hold on, wait a minute.”
“Do it, no time to explain.”
“Give me something.”
“I just got off the phone with Joram. You remember him, don’t you? The guy from Syria. His dad is a low-level bureaucrat in Assad’s regime.”
“The guy you interviewed a few years ago just before he went to join ISIS?”
“Yes, he’s defected and needs to meet, no time, he sounded concerned. I have to go now.”
“But these interviews are more important,” Max insist
ed.
“I’ll get even more interviews after meeting with Joram!”
“Is your visa still valid?”
“Yes, now hang up and book me a ticket and get me a room. I must pack,” David said and hung up.
His face was flush and the headache was gone. He walked to the drapes and pulled them open, allowing the warm rays of the sun to come in. He instinctively knew this was what he was looking for. The information he could get from Joram could jump start his documentary film and give him the media spotlight to secure the funding he sorely needed.
Island of Juula, Off the Coast of Somalia
Brennan stood at the top entry door. He pressed his eyes closed, said his usual prebattle prayer, opened his eyes and gave Dietz a nod.
Dietz flung the door open.
Always insisting on leading the way, Brennan raced into the stairwell, rifle at the ready.
Right behind him, his squad followed closely.
The lights in the stairwell flickered on and off, making it impossible to use their night vision.
The top flight of stairs was riddled with bodies, friendly and foe.
At the bottom of the first flight, Brennan radioed, “Dietz, Harmon, get as much intel as you can. Just keep bagging.”
“Roger that,” Dietz replied.
Guttural growls, teeth gnashing and banging echoed from below.
Brennan’s stomach tightened. He was never afraid to admit being fearful going into a combat situation, but this just felt different, and his body was sending him plenty of warning signs.
They proceeded with diligence down the stairs, being careful not to trip over bodies nor slip on blood.
With each step he took, the grotesque noises grew louder.
The lights flickered out.
Brennan paused. His heart was thumping. The noises seemed louder when the lights were out. How odd? he thought.
Standing in the darkness seemed like an eternity.
Brennan contemplated going to night vision.
The lights flickered on.
He swiftly but stealthily moved down to within a few steps of the third-floor landing.
The sounds of the monsters were now so loud he found it hard to think. He looked down at his hand; it was shaking. Get it together, he said to himself.
Day of Reckoning Page 8
