Countdown: The Wasteland Chronicles Book One

by Rashad Freeman

  COUNTDOWN

  THE WASTELAND CHRONICLES

  BOOK ONE

  By Rashad Freeman

  Includes a sneak peak at:

  Escape: The Wasteland Chronicles Book Two

  Copyright © 2014 by Rashad Freeman

  www.rashadfreeman.com

  www.rashadfreeman.blogspot.com

  Rashad.Freeman@rashadfreeman.com

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  Twitter: @RashadFreeman

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without the expressed written consent of the author.

  HAMMER DOWN

  The heavy blades of the CH-47 jackhammered the air and rattled the ground of the nearby plateau. The blaring sun baked the parched landscape, cracking the floor like drying plaster. This was Hell on Earth and the sound of the helicopter was a war drum, for the avenging angels that descended from above.

  Second Lieutenant, Brendan Matthews eyed his small group of elite soldiers like a proud father. He’d trained these men hard, like his father had trained him. Pushed them to their limits and then further. Forced them to move beyond fear, until it was no longer a reality. Now these warriors longed for the cry of battle, yearned for the call to war.

  A calm sensation buzzed through the air, but he could feel their apprehension, their anxiety. He knew, like they did, that every time that bird left base, they might not be coming back. It wasn’t that they were scared of death, they were afraid of losing.

  Matthews looked at their stern, determined faces and he couldn’t be more proud. They were fierce, they were young and they were ready. He’d told himself this countless times, now he needed it to be true.

  This was his young ranger’s first real deployment, their first test and chance to prove themselves. They were accompanying a team of Special Forces soldiers, Green Berets, into a mountainous region of Afghanistan known as the Herat province. Once there, they would link up with another ranger team and wait for extraction. The Green Berets would continue on to an unknown destination.

  The rangers’ part of the mission was routine, a quick in and out with no contact. But Matthews knew better, he had seen how quickly “in and out” could go wrong. And he knew the Herat province would not forgive careless, rookie mistakes.

  The iron giant creaked and whined like an angry condor floating across the Afghan sky. The men rumbled about in their jump seats as the bird yawed, preparing for a pinnacle maneuver.

  “One minute!” the chubby flight engineer screamed.

  There were thirty-eight soldiers crammed into the dual rotor aircraft, a platoon of twenty-six clean shaven rangers and twelve Green Berets, donning scruffy beards and Oakleys. It was a motley crew of controlled chaos, an assault force birthed from fire and pain.

  “Look alive Brewster,” Captain Gene McKinley shouted. He was the commander of the Green Beret team, a tall, lean jokester who still made time to volunteer at his daughter’s school.

  “They’re kids Gene,” CWO Lenny Brewster replied as he looked over the group of rangers. He was the 2nd in command and if his twelve man team was a sword, Lenny was the tip.

  “Oh save it Mother Teresa. This is gonna be a walk in the park, besides they gotta get their cherry popped sometime,” McKinley replied.

  Lenny swept his black hair out of his face and rubbed the stubble on his chin. He glanced around the cabin and frowned as he soaked in the fresh faces of the young team. He hated it, hated the size, and hated the burden that he knew was now his. There were too many bodies, too many variables that Lenny couldn’t control.

  Bring them all back or die with them, his father’s words played in his head. It was the only thing his father would say when Lenny was deploying. He hadn’t heard them in years, but he took that spirit with him every time he went downrange.

  The Chinook slowly descended towards the rocky plateau that fell off into a jagged canyon. Thorny bushes and bare trees clung to the dead ground like a cemetery. Nothing lived there, nothing but death.

  The orange dirt grew closer and closer until they were just above it. The helicopter slowed and then spun around, the rear of the aircraft hovered a few feet above the ground. The rest of the giant machine dangled over the edge of the cliff like it was being held on a string.

  Lieutenant Matthews stood up and started to usher his men towards the back as the ramp tilted open. A whirlwind of dirt and rocks twisted into the air and the dry brush whipped around like angry flames.

  “Move! Move!” the lieutenant yelled.

  His words stirred an anxious sense of excitement throughout the chopper. One by one the rangers hurried to the edge of the bird and jumped onto the plateau. The dry earth moaned and splintered under their weight. The hot, torrid air lashed its whip-like tongue at their faces.

  Without hesitation, they fanned out. They quickly set up a defensive perimeter and formed a semi-circle around the Chinook. The years of training made their movements almost robotic.

  Matthews looked ahead and scanned the perimeter. The rocky terrain spanned an area of more than four football fields. It was covered with craggy boulders and the remnants of vegetation. A moderate wind swept across the ground, that combined with the whirling helicopter blades created a blinding cyclone.

  In the distance, a sea of rigged peaks marked their final destination. Outpost Eagle claw was the last allied base of operation in the region. Here a small company of soldiers and special operations personnel conducted counter-insurgency and reconnaissance missions. It was the Antarctica of the Middle East, difficult to get to and even harder to survive in, but that’s where they were headed.

  Lenny and his teammates eagerly moved towards the back of the helicopter. The last of the rangers had touched down and knelt onto the baked surface. Lenny looked back at the crew and nodded before turning to Gene and bumping fists.

  “Let’s do it,” he yelled.

  “See what I mean, a cake walk,” Gene said with a smile.

  Lenny grinned and shook his head then shuddered as the air started to crackle around him. Alarms erupted inside of the Chinook and bullets ricocheted off of the metal. The aircraft suddenly swayed to the side and then steadied.

  “We’re taking fire. Deploy now!” the co-pilot whipped his head around and screamed.

  Lenny and Gene leapt from the ramp and rolled into the dirt as a storm of bullets scraped past them. A loud ping rang through the air and black smoke started to swirl from one of the rotors. The helicopter pitched forward and another soldier was thrown off and hit the ground with a thud.

  The pilot tried to steady the craft so the other Green Berets could dismount. At the same time the tail gunner reached for the M-60, but an array of armor piercing metal riddled his body before he could make it. The bullets spun him around and he toppled out of the back of the bird.

  The rangers down on the plateau were also taking heavy gunfire. Bullets smashed into the rocks in front of them and several of the soldiers had already been shot. Chaos filled the air and the flying debris made it almost impossible to tell which way the shooting was coming from.

  “Move to the creek!” Lieutenant Matthews yelled, before taking a round in the shoulder that knocked him ont
o the ground.

  Lenny grabbed the lieutenant by the arm and pulled him to his feet. Behind him, another soldier leapt wildly from the smoking helicopter. He landed behind Lenny and rolled into the dirt.

  “Chief!” Sergeant Wilson roared. He was a dark-skinned gray-haired weapons sergeant that had been in special operations for nearly a decade. “Across the ridge!” he pointed.

  Lenny turned and looked across to an adjacent plateau, where a small group of Taliban soldiers were firing from the cover of a shallow trench. Instinctively, the team started shooting back, providing cover as the rangers made their way towards the creek.

  The helicopter was still taking fire as more soldiers jumped out of the back. Bullets streaked through the desert air like fireworks banging into the aircrafts hard shell. Lenny dropped into the dirt as a storm of metal snapped over his head. It was complete pandemonium and then Lenny looked up, barely glimpsing the flash of light ripping past him.

  With a hiss, an RPG sliced through the air and hit the Chinook broadside near the swirling, forward rotor. The sky erupted in a blinding explosion. Shards of searing, hot metal catapulted into the air like flying daggers.

  The helicopter dipped backwards and the tail slammed into the edge of the plateau. The fuselage split in half as two more men tumbled out of the back. Then in slow motion the aircraft spiraled over the cliff like a wounded bird.

  “No!” Lenny screamed in horror as he watched it vanish below the mountain.

  DON’T LOOK BACK

  The helicopter plummeted into the rocks with a gut-wrenching smash. A wave of fire shot into the air, followed by chunks of metal and flaming pieces of debris.

  Lenny clenched his teeth and grunted as he clambered to his feet. Bullets snapped and hissed all around him, but he trudged forward obliviously. Leaning over the end of the plateau, he stared down into the smoldering wreckage.

  A thick, black smoke plumed toward the sky like a rattled viper. He could feel the intense heat on his face, smell the fuel and death that now clouded the air. Lenny knew there would be no survivors, that his friends’ final resting place would be the cabin of a burning helicopter. But he stared down into the trench as if he expected them to come crawling out unscathed.

  “You bring them all back,” his father reiterated.

  He was standing outside on a cold winter day. His green duffle bag was hanging from his shoulder, the weight of it nothing in comparison to the journey that lay ahead of him.

  “I don’t understand sir,” Lenny said as he looked his father in the eye.

  “Those men Lenny, that’s your family now. You all come back together or you all die together. You understand me boy?”

  “Yes, yes sir.”

  “Don’t you let me down.”

  Lenny straightened up and saluted his father. His father glared back into his eyes, but the look he gave him Lenny had never seen before. Maybe it was pride, maybe it was him finally acknowledging Lenny as a man.

  In the end Lenny would never know. His father died shortly after that deployment, leaving behind a man that still had a confused child inside of him.

  “Chief! Chief!” Captain McKinley’s voice cut through the clatter. He grabbed Lenny by the shoulder and pulled him to the ground. “We gotta get to the creek! Harris and Blackwell are down!” He screamed.

  Lenny was a professional, and it only took seconds for the sights and sounds of the battle to return to him. He nodded with a grim look on his face and clutched his rifle.

  McKinley patted his arm then together they scampered behind a cluster of rocks. With alternating three round bursts they started firing back at the Taliban insurgents across the ridge.

  “Nelson was still in there,” Lenny said darkly. “So were Wombly, Kerrington and Mills.”

  “And the whole damn flight crew minus the gunner,” McKinley replied.

  Lenny shook his head from side to side and pointed. “Gunner’s right there. He took a few on his way out.”

  “We gotta deal with this shit right now,” McKinley groaned.

  He peeked over the rocks and fired again then ducked back down. To his left was the creek where the rangers had taken cover. It was shielded by a large berm and was the only safe place on the plateau.

  “Send me some runners and lay down fire on that fucking ridge!” McKinley screamed to the lieutenant.

  He nodded and moments later two of his men dodged gunfire to make it behind the rocks where Lenny and the captain had taken cover. Another ranger lay prone at the edge of the creek and started unloading his SAW. At the same time several of the other soldiers opened fire in the same direction.

  Without hesitation, Lenny and the other men took off. They darted across the plateau as bullets whizzed by their heads. Sliding to a stop they came to the first fallen soldier and knelt next to him.

  It was the rear gunner from the Chinook. He was face down in the dirt with multiple exit wounds shredded across his back.

  “He’s gone,” McKinley shouted over the thunderous clapping.

  A few yards away Sergeant Wilson was providing cover as Hancock, the medic, dragged another soldier towards the creek. To the side of them Sergeant Grimes, the special ops sniper, was zeroing in on the Taliban.

  “Come on, we gotta get to the other guys,” the captain said.

  Lenny broke off to help the medic as McKinley and the two rangers ran to the remaining survivors. One of the Green Berets was already scampering on all fours across the sand. Blood oozed from a shoulder wound and a gash across his forehead. He looked up at Lenny and managed a smile. Lenny flashed a smile back just as a series of staccato like shots echoed into the air.

  “Fuck you!” Grimes suddenly yelled. “Clear.”

  Lenny glanced through his scope towards the far ridge. Five Taliban soldiers were slumped in the dirt, their weapons a few feet away. He looked back at Grimes and held up his thumb.

  “Cease fire!” Lieutenant Matthews yelled to his rangers. “Get out there and help with the wounded.”

  Lenny spun around and surveyed the damage. Three rangers were dead as well as the gunner from the Chinook. Four Green Berets had perished in the helicopter along with the rest of the flight crew. They’d flown right into a gunfight and they were expecting a cakewalk.

  With his head held low, Lenny paced the plateau then took a sip from his canteen. Dipping his head, he poured the water over the back of his neck and sighed. As he looked up he locked eyes with a young ranger and paused.

  Tears rolled down the man’s sand covered cheeks and the muscles in his jaw bulged as he clamped his teeth together. He was holding his helmet in one hand, his rifle in the other, clenched so tightly that it had become a part of his arm. His brown hair was matted to his head with sweat, his lips quivering with every deliberate breath.

  There was a depthless sadness reflected in his eyes, but there was something else. Behind the sorrow, behind the anguish a burning anger flared. A blistering rage that would set fire to the entire country.

  He took a deep breath and nodded at Lenny. Lenny nodded back and without words they both understood. They were the sword of vengeance, the deliverers of swift retribution. And body by broken body, they would make them all pay.

  “Pokowitz didn’t’ make it,” McKinley said as he stepped next to Lenny. “He bled out before Wilson could get to him…fucking Afghans!”

  Lenny turned away from the ranger and stared back at the ground. Intelligence had told them there would be no resistance in the region. He started to wonder what else intelligence was wrong about. Clearing his throat, he looked over to the captain. “How’s Mickey and Roger?”

  “Banged up a bit, but they’ll live,” McKinley replied then turned around and started shouting orders to the others.

  They’d been on the ground for less than an hour and the rangers’ communications sergeant was already calling in a medevac. Lenny didn’t like one thing about the mission and it was only getting worse. As the afternoon progressed that feeling grew stronger
and stronger.

  “Are we still a go?” he asked Gene after he got off the line with command.

  “Yeah, our date is still on,” the captain replied and looked up.

  Two Blackhawks and four Apaches floated overhead, slowly vanishing into the sky. Almost half of Gene’s team was in those helicopters, a fact that didn’t sit well with him at all. He shook his head then turned to the ranger lieutenant.

  “You sure you good to go?”

  “Yeah, through and through. Your team ready to hit it?” the lieutenant replied.

  Gene nodded and they quickly packed up and headed off into the endless desert landscape. The sun blazed down on them like a spotlight, the dry air harsh and unforgiving. They marched silently across the scorched Earth with a single minded focus. There would be time to mourn the friends they lost, but not yet, not while a job was left to be done.

  By nightfall they’d covered more than a dozen miles. With the sun fading behind the ridgeline the team of soldiers was ready to make their final ascent to Outpost Eagle Claw.

  A narrow trail snaked up the mountain all the way to the gate. As they stood at the bottom Gene looked over his map by moonlight then tucked it back into his rucksack.

  “Well LT, safe travels. We’ll see you boys on the other side,” he whispered and gave Matthews a little nudge.

  The lieutenant nodded and started up the mountain with the other rangers. Gene watched them scamper up the rocky hill until they vanished around the bend.

  “Alright boys, let’s make this shit count.

  ONCE MORE INTO THE FRAY

  Lenny pulled a scarf tightly across his face and slightly moved his leg. He’d been holding the same position for hours, tucked under a patch of twisted trees. The rest of his team had taken similar positions, spread out under the darkness.

  “Here they come,” Gene’s voice fizzled through Lenny’s earpiece.