Delta Force

by Alex Westmore

  “They won’t,” Delta promised.

  “But if they do, I’m gonna do myself. The idea of...gross sexual torture doesn’t...do much for me.”

  Delta pulled Sal’s combat knife out and handed it to her. “If that happens, take one or two with you, Slugger.”

  Sal grinned, but Delta saw the physical pain behind her eyes. “Will do. Now get out of here.”

  Delta ran back through the jungle and rejoined Connie and Megan. “How many?”

  “Could be six, could be sixteen. Hard to tell. How’s Sal?”

  “Hanging in there.”

  “For how long?”

  Delta shrugged. “We need that chopper now. I say it’s time we go on the offensive. Ten to one these clowns on the ground have a radio and have told the chopper where we are. I say we get that radio, we get that helicopter. Everyone else is expendable.” Delta looked hard at Megan. “Can you do this?”

  “Kill someone?” Megan laughed. “In a heartbeat, my love.”

  “Then I guess this is it. We spread out, take a sixty-degree angle and take out as many as we can until we get the radio. Everyone okay with that?”

  Megan and Connie nodded.

  Delta inhaled slowly. “We can’t afford to blow this.”

  Connie laid her hand on Delta’s shoulder. “Then let’s finish this and go home.”

  As they spread out, Delta watched Megan regrip the smaller AR-18 rifle. It was such an odd picture, it had a surreal quality to it. Megan hefted it to her shoulder in the same fashion she would her purse.

  As Delta crept through the forest, rifle poised, finger ready on the trigger, she knew this was really it. If they failed here, it was over. For good. They would never leave this place.

  Suddenly, bullets peppered the surrounding foliage. Delta flattened to the ground and peered through the brush, locating her attacker.

  “Gotcha,” she said, seeing one of the Colombians in her cross hairs. Slowly squeezing the trigger, Delta sent a bullet that entered his neck and blew out the other side. As soon as he dropped, Delta crept over to him. No radio.

  A second series of gun-bursts prompted Delta to seek cover. Peering from behind the tree, her breath caught in her throat. Thirty feet from her was the radio man. As she hoisted the rifle to her shoulder and took aim, she felt something jab her in the back. Delta froze. Slowly looking over her shoulder, she saw the sadistic smile of a soldier with rotted front teeth.

  “Hóla, señorita,” he said, and motioned for her to drop the rifle.

  Delta turned toward him, quickly weighing her limited options. “Do the words ‘Fuck you and the burro you rode in on’ mean anything to you?”

  The soldier grinned maliciously. “Puta! Beetch.”

  Delta shrugged, her mind racing to find a way out of this. “Why can’t men across the world find some original derogatory remark for women? You’re all so damned uncreative.”

  The soldier cocked his head. “Te voy a matar, señorita.”

  Delta shrugged again. “No comprendo, asshole,” she said.

  As the soldier lifted his rifle to strike Delta, she heard crack...and his head exploded. Bone fragments and gray matter scattered all over her shoulders and face. She looked up from the headless corpse and saw Megan perched in the crook of a tree, her AR-18 arching quickly to the left as it fired once more.

  Delta saw her chance. She moved around the tree quietly, then closed distance on the radio man, who was fumbling with the handset when she approached him. He reached for his holstered pistol and pointed it at Delta. Forcefully, she jabbed the muzzle of her rifle into his chest. “Silencio,” she said, for lack of anything else. Delta watched the barrel of his pistol shake. She lifted the muzzle of her rifle to his face. For a long, tense minute, neither budged.

  Finally, the radio man dropped his pistol and held his hands in the air. “Okay, okay. No problemo,” he babbled.

  Delta motioned with the rifle for the man to get on his knees. He did, and laced his fingers behind his head. He repeated, “No problemo. Sí?”

  Delta frowned at him. “We’ll have to see about that.” Then she yelled, “Connie! I found him.”

  Connie quickly maneuvered through the brush. “Excellent.”

  Delta glanced over at the tree Megan had been in. Gone.

  “Where’s Megan?” Delta asked.

  “We’ll round everyone up once we bring that chopper in.” Connie told the soldier what to say. The soldier nodded and reached a quivering hand for the mike.

  “I told him to tell the other men to cease fire. That there’s friendly fire and they’re all shooting at each other.”

  “Brilliant,” Delta said, nodding.

  Connie issued more orders to the radio man, who repeated her words into the mike. After giving a few more instructions in Spanish, to Delta’s surprise, the radio man started taking his clothes off.

  “What’s he doing?” Delta asked.

  “I told him to tell the pilot we have to bring the wounded to the chopper. If we’re going to get close to that bird, we’re going to need uniforms.”

  “Excellent.”

  Connie grinned. “I thought so, too. Keep your gun on him, will you?”

  Aiming her rifle at the near-naked man, Delta watched Connie transform herself into a Colombian soldier; she looked the part with her hair tucked in under the hat.

  “Amazing,” Delta murmured.

  Connie pulled her belt out of the pants on the ground, bound the soldier’s hands behind his back and took the radio. “Actually, I got the idea from your little diversionary tactic.”

  “Great minds...”

  “Let’s get Sal to that chopper.”

  “What about Megan?”

  Connie stopped and leveled her gaze at Delta. “We have to get this chopper, Delta. We won’t leave without anybody unless we have to, but right now, Sal’s life hangs in the balance.”

  Delta cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted, “Megan! Go to Sal!” With that, Delta, Connie and a grumbling radio man made their way to the clearing on the cliff.

  “Sal?” Delta asked, kneeling over her. She looked so tiny and pale that, for a moment, Delta thought they’d lost her. “Sal?”

  “Leg hurts,” Sal groaned, shivering. “Think I’m in shock.”

  Connie grinned. “Can you stay awake long enough to take a few more out?”

  Sal swallowed hard. “Point me to ‘em.”

  Delta carried Sal back to the edge of the jungle and sat her on a soft cushion of moss. Leaving Sal, Connie and the radio man, Delta ran back to the headless corpse Megan had shot, pulled off his bloody clothes, and brought them back to Sal.

  “Put these on,” Delta said, handing the heap to Sal.

  “But they’re all bloody.”

  “So are yours.”

  Sal looked at herself. “Oh yeah.”

  By the time the roar of the chopper blades could be heard, Connie had helped Sal change into the Colombian uniform.

  “Everybody ready?” Connie asked, hoisting both her own and Sal’s rifle over her shoulders.

  Delta stared back into the rain forest. “Damn it, where’s Megan?”

  “We’ll get her, Del. That’s who we came here for.”

  Taking Sal into her arms, Delta helped load her onto Connie’s shoulders. “You sure you can still shoot?” Delta asked, positioning one of the rifles in Sal’s hands. “You hit the instrument panel, and we’re history.”

  “Duh,” was Sal’s only response.

  Delta adjusted Sal’s cap and stepped back to examine the finished product. “You’d fool their mamas.”

  As the helicopter neared, Connie smiled at Delta. “Sounds like our taxi is here.” With Sal over one shoulder and a rifle over the other, Connie touched Delta’s hand. “I don’t do good-byes,” Connie said quietly.

  “Me either.”

  “Just know—’whither thou goest, so goest I.”’

  Nodding, Delta looked over Connie’s shoulder as the helicopter l
anded. “Well, goest and get that bird.”

  While Connie ran the distance to the helicopter with Sal yoked around her neck and shoulders, she bowed her head so the pilot and any others in the aircraft couldn’t see her face. The wind from the rotors beat against her, as her uniform flapped against her arms. This was definitely her gauntlet, and if she could pull this off, it would be the miracle of her life.

  As the door of the chopper slid open, Connie saw two men in the doorway waiting to help. There were probably others.

  “There’s three for sure, Sal, but that’s all I can see for now.” Connie adjusted Sal across her shoulders as she approached the helicopter.

  “How heavily armed?” Sal asked.

  “Can’t tell.” As they neared, Connie realized that she couldn’t see the pilot’s hands, but the two men she could see had their rifles hanging limply at their sides. “Watch the pilot, Sal.”

  “10-4.”

  With five feet to go, Connie regripped the rifle and swung it toward the soldiers at the door. She shouted something in Spanish, and the two men backed up away from the door with their hands in the air. Laying Sal inside the chopper, Connie pointed her rifle at the men.

  “Tieren sus armas,” Connie yelled at them.

  “You, too,” Sal said, motioning at the pilot with her rifle. As the pilot came out of his seat, he aimed his small-caliber pistol at Connie. A flash from Sal’s gun, and the pilot slumped down onto the floor of the helicopter.

  “Shit!” Connie cried, “Now who’s gonna fly us outta here?”

  “I will,” Sal said.

  Connie motioned the men outside, pointing to the ground near the chopper and ordering them to lie down. “You know how to fly a helicopter?” she asked Sal, keeping her weapon trained on the men.

  Sal nodded as she rolled to her side. “Sure. Went with my dad all the time.”

  Connie gently handed Sal her rifle as she pulled a coil of rope from behind the pilot’s seat. “I’m not surprised. If they move, shoot them.” Connie jumped to the ground and tied the soldiers together. “Thank God your dad loved his little girl.”

  Rising to her hands and knees, Sal winced. “There’s only one problem.”

  Connie looked up at Sal.

  “I have to sit down to do it.”

  Connie looked at the wet blood on Sal’s pants. “Oh. Shit.”

  Suddenly, bullets started peppering the side of the helicopter. Sal quickly dropped into the pilot’s seat, and let out a howl that could be heard above the roar of the rotors. “Goddamnit!” Sal yelled, as perspiration rolled down the side of her face. Grimacing from the pain, she reached for the controls. “Hang on, Connie, we’re gettin’ outta here!”

  Neither Sal nor Connie heard the distant gunfire over the roar of the whirling blades, but they did hear the pinging noise as the bullets sprayed the helicopter. “Can you see either of them?” Sal yelled, wiping the sweat from her brow.

  “Not yet!”

  More soldiers were bearing down on Delta and Megan. As the gunshots got louder, Delta looked up from her position behind a palm tree and saw they were from Megan’s rifle; she was racing toward the clearing.

  “Megan!” Delta yelled over the roar of the chopper and the rifle blasts. “Over here!”

  For endless moments, Delta waited until she heard the heavy footsteps of someone plunging through the jungle. Sweat dripped down her chest, wetting the center of her bra; she wished she still had her shirt on. Lifting her rifle, she took aim. Through the cross hairs, she saw Megan’s sweaty, bloody face. “Over here!” Delta yelled, keeping her rifle poised and ready.

  As Megan stumbled forward, out of the jungle, Delta shot two soldiers in hot pursuit. Both men’s backs blew out as two well-aimed bullets tore their bodies apart. Moments later, Delta helped Megan up and checked her rifle’s ammunition.

  When she finished examining the AR-18, Delta looked at Megan’s bloody face. “You’re bleeding. You okay?”

  Megan nodded. “A bullet grazed my cheek. Think I was unconscious for a moment, but I’m back. Nothing to worry about, love.”

  Delta nodded. “Get to the chopper.” Delta scanned the edge of the jungle, waiting for more soldiers to appear.

  “What about you?”

  “Right behind you, love.” Quickly kissing Megan on the lips, Delta gave her a shove toward the chopper.

  “Delta?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t leave me.”

  Delta grinned. “Never. Now move it!”

  With that, Megan took off towards the chopper at a sprint. A step away from the helicopter, the rainforest suddenly exploded with a hail of gunfire, as a second squad of soldiers appeared at the edge of the clearing.

  With both rifles against her hips, Delta backed out onto the cliff area, firing steady rounds at the oncoming soldiers. She couldn’t see anything except the muzzle flashes. It was only a matter of time before one of their rounds hit its mark. There would be no cover as she made her way to the helicopter; she would be completely vulnerable, even with cover fire from Connie. With both barrels blazing, Delta backed quickly toward the chopper until her final round was spent. The she flung the rifles down, whirled around and ran for her life.

  Legs churning, arms pumping, Delta watched as Megan and Connie fired into the forest. Round after round of bullets shattered the ground, kicking up dirt and sand. Zigging and zagging, Delta tried to keep her five-nine frame low. Sixty yards to go and the chopper started off the ground, wobbling from side to side. One leg touched back down briefly before lifting off again. It looked like the chopper was being flown by a drunken pilot as it rocked back and forth. Megan was now in the rear bay of the chopper with a rifle in one hand and the other outstretched toward Delta. She was yelling something Delta couldn’t hear.

  Forty yards to go. Delta’s lungs were ready to burst.

  “Run!” Megan yelled above the noise. But the helicopter lurched forward, and Delta knew why: bullets were pelting the side of the helicopter and Sal was trying not to be a sitting target.

  Wait. That was Sal?

  Twenty yards to go. Suddenly, Delta went down hard, a burning sensation searing the back of her leg.

  “Shit!” she cried, grabbing her thigh. One of the bullets had finally found its way into her flesh. Painfully rising, Delta turned and saw a half dozen soldiers coming at her. Looking back at the helicopter, she saw it rise ten feet as if suddenly incapable of hovering. It bobbed up and down and went from ten to five to twenty feet in seconds, as it wobbled unsteadily in the air. As more gunfire rang out, Delta limped closer, but the chopper was too high.

  “Lower!” Megan yelled to Sal.

  Delta could hear the bullets as they pinged into the chopper. She had to get up on one of those legs before a stray bullet hit the gas tank.

  Delta visualized herself leaping up to grab the leg as it dipped toward her. Bearing down on the chopper, Delta leapt and grabbed a leg of the helicopter as it wobbled and lurched uneasily, nearly throwing Megan out the cabin door.

  “Go!” Delta yelled. “Go!”

  The wind created by the rotors pummeled Delta. Rising, the chopper spun around, quickly gaining altitude and speed. Dangling from the helicopter, Delta tried to retake her tenuous hold, but couldn’t get a better grip. With increasing blood loss and a bad grip at best, Delta looked down at the blue water below.

  As the helicopter turned away from the cliff and out over the sea, Delta saw Megan reaching out to her.

  “Take my hand!” Megan yelled over the wind, her long blonde hair blowing wildly about. The soldiers continued firing at Delta and the chopper.

  Connie tossed her rifle to the floor of the chopper and knelt down. “Take her hand!” Connie yelled.

  Delta looked up at Megan; her face was intense as her sweat mingled with the blood from the wound in her cheek. Trusting that Megan had the strength to hold her, Delta reached one hand up. Just as their fingertips touched, a bullet ripped through Delta’s shoulder, causing
her to release her grasp of the chopper’s leg. She couldn’t, wouldn’t take Megan with her.

  Delta had no other choice.

  She let go.

  Megan screamed a heart-piercing “D-e-l-ta-a-ah,” as she watched the love of her life plummet into the blue water below.

  “Delta’s down!” Connie frantically yelled to Sal, whose face was bathed in sweat. “She’s in the water!”

  “She’s what?”

  Megan pointed down. “She’s in the water! I think she’s been hit! Go down!”

  Sal turned the chopper around as more bullets battered the side. “Can’t do it!” Sal yelled. “They’re already making Swiss cheese out of us. If we take one in the tank, we’re all dead. We gotta get out of here!”

  Connie’s eyes grew wide as she looked at Megan.

  “Con, please...,” Megan’s voice was raw.

  Connie looked down at the water below.

  “Connie, please. For God’s sake! It’s Delta!”

  Connie looked over at Sal, who shook her head. Swallowing her bitter decision like a jagged pill, Connie’s eyes filled with tears. “Sal’s right. We can’t risk it.”

  Megan’s face paled. “You can’t mean that!”

  “We’ll try landing on the beach down the coast and see if we can go after her from there, but we can’t let these guys keep shooting at us.”

  Megan looked down at the water. They were too high to see anything except the crest of the waves as they broke.

  Reaching out for her, Connie held tightly to Megan’s arm. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “It’s Delta down there, goddamnit!”

  Nodding to Sal to go, Connie turned back to Megan. “I’m sorry, Megan, but this is what Delta would want us to do.”

  “That’s bullshit!”

  Tears rolled down Connie’s face. “I’m sorry, Meg. But if we go down there to get her, we’ll all end up dead. We’d be a sitting duck.”

  Megan glared at Connie before turning away and staring down at the ocean beneath them. “If she dies, Consuela, I’ll never forgive you.”

  Connie nodded sadly, as more tears rolled down her cheeks. “Don’t worry, Meg. I’d never forgive myself.”