The air was hot and heavy with the smell of blood. It felt like it covered him, yet he didn’t have a drop on him.
He checked vitals if it looked like there was a chance in hell the person wasn’t dead, but so far, not so good. Not a single one was clinging to life.
Brandt hoped that Dale and Svengurd were having better luck.
* * *
Dale carefully picked his way through the dead bodies. Slaughter wasn’t an accurate enough word. The chieftain was no slouch when it came to security for his family. They had been met with a shockingly overwhelming force.
Quite simply it was overkill.
He had taken this section of the compound since it included the women’s quarters. Now he regretted that decision. He should have let Brandt look for Rimaha.
The bodies is on the floor were all familiar to Dale. They were sisters, cousins, aunts. He’d had dinner with each and every one of them.
Finally he arrived at Rimaha’s room.
Dale was reluctant to open the door. Once you saw something, you could never un-see it. Half his career Dale wished that he’d never seen the carnage.
As always, even in this, he had a job to do.
Dale entered the room, sweeping his gun back-and-forth, being ready for any attacker to jump out at him. However this bloodbath looked like it had been over hours ago. The blood on the floor was already drying.
In front of him, was Rimaha’s maid. Next was Rimaha’s favorite aunt and first cousin.
They were piled on top of one another like the assailants had thrown out pigs at the slaughterhouse.
His throat constricted as his blood pressure went up.
Was there movement?
Dale couldn’t immediately check, because it wasn’t uncommon for the Taliban to rig the bodies with booby-traps.
He had to go around the bodies slowly and to be sure there were no tripwires. Even then he used the tip of his rifle to lift one of the woman’s arms to be sure there was no IED.
Then he saw it. A hand trying to move.
Still he had to be cautious despite his heart rate threatening to trigger ventricular tachycardia. Dale moved body after body, clearing off the pile, until he found the woman that was still alive.
Rimaha.
The others must have piled on her to protect her.
Emotions swelled yet Dale had to keep them under wraps. They were still in enemy territory. He needed to keep his head about him. Rimaha was bleeding from her neck. It looked like a bullet had nicked her jugular vein. Rimaha had bled out quite a bit, but she was still alive.
He ripped a piece of her dress and applied a bandage to her neck. That first one saturated through almost immediately. He applied a second and then a third bandage before he felt like it was doing anything.
Rimaha’s eyelids fluttered open. At first she frowned. Then a very tired and very sad smile crossed her pale lips. “Dale?”
“Shhh,” he urged.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in Arabic
God, she sounded so weak.
“What part of ‘shhhh’ don’t you understand?”
Her smile broadened. “Apparently, I should have gone with you.”
“And now you are,” Dale responded.
Rimaha sighed, her eyelids closed as her lips when slack.
“No, no, no,” Dale moaned.
He checked her pulse. It was there but it was so weak and fast. If she didn’t get a blood transfusion like right now, she was going to die.
Luckily he was Special Forces and while Lopez was a designated medic of the team, they all carried basic, essential medical gear, which included field blood transfusion lines.
You grabbed a set from his pack, rolled up his sleeve, and placed the tourniquet around his upper arm. He’d always had good veins and now was an opportune time to take advantage of it.
Rimaha’s arm was a completely different story. Her blood pressure was so low that he had to place several tourniquets to raise a vein. The procedure went smoothly. He wasn’t afraid of needles especially in this circumstance. The little prick as the needle went in, was nothing compared to his fear for her life.
Once his healthy well oxygenated blood filled the tube, he placed the other needle into her arm.
Field transfusions were risky at best. There is an in-line filter, but that didn’t mean some clots couldn’t get through. Plus there was the blood type issue. Luckily you can usually get away with just about anything on the first transfusion, after that you risk life-threatening reactions.
Dale closely watched Rimaha’s breathing. In theory, before a transfusion, there should be a ton of tests run. Lord knew that he’d had enough of them. His blood count should have been taken. Her blood count should’ve been taken. Her weight should’ve been calculated. There should’ve been an entire series of medical decisions made about how much blood Rimaha should have received.
Instead, Dale was going to give her as much blood as it took to get her lips pink or he became dizzy, which ever came first.
He was late to the rendezvous but he couldn’t just let her bleed to death. Dale kept pumping his fist, forcing blood into her body. Finally her lips didn’t look so grey and her breathing became less ragged.
The transfusion might actually be working the way it was supposed to.
Dale couldn’t give her as much blood as he would like, they had a schedule to keep. He placed a bandage over the needle in his arm before he pulled it. Then did the same with her arm.
He put a zip tie around her wrists so that he can carry her over his shoulder.
Getting his pack and Rimaha settled, Dale moved out of the room, praying that blood had been enough.
CHAPTER 2
Brandt met up with Svengurd. The tall, blonde point man shook his head. Neither had found any survivors.
Checking his watch, Brandt frowned. The Captain was late. That was not like their commanding officer. To say that Dale was merely punctual would be an insult the man.
Before Brandt could think up a new plan, Dale strode into the room, carrying a woman. From his expression, and the tenderness by which he carried the injured woman, Brandt could only guess it was Rimaha.
Svengurd and Brandt rushed over to help him.
“Let me take her, sir,” the point man offered.
“No, I’ve got her,” Dale said as he set Rimaha gently to the ground.
It became obvious what the problem was. A wound to the neck. It must have been a bad one because the thick bandage was already a bright red.
“I gave her a field transfusion, but it raised her pressure so now she is bleeding again.”
That was always the conundrum out in the field. The patient would die of blood loss, but once you gave them enough blood, the wounds would open again and start leaking the blood you just gave them.
Dale kneeled down by Rimaha putting pressure on the wound. But that was another problem with neck wounds. There was only so much pressure you could use without compromising the airway.
“We’ll get Lopez --” Brandt said before he was interrupted by the corporal himself on the line.
“You’ve got movement!” the corporal yelled just as men moved into the room. There were dozens of them. There had to have been some kind of subterranean chamber where they had stayed hidden.
The team was surrounded. Things had gone from horrific to completely horrifically screwed.
A man stepped out from the group.
It was Awani. In the flesh.
Awani must have seen the shock on their faces.
“Body double,” he responded.
* * *
Dale’s mind spun, trying to take in exactly the width and breadth of the terrorist’s plan.
“So you hired a body double to be seen at the compound, sacrificing him to a drone strike?
Awani nodded vigorously. “And taking out several dozen innocent patients. Then have it revealed you didn’t even get me. Ah, that would’ve been quite the coup. But when you r
efused to give the order, I decided to strike you in a different manner.”
That was bullshit and everyone knew it. Clearly Awani had always planned to take out the Bennahaniz family.
“I see your little princess survived. Now she can watch you die,” Awani said with a sneer.
Dale didn’t have a lot of options. Certainly they were going to try to fight their way out, however, they were greatly outnumbered and had a wounded woman to pack out.
Oh well, that’s just how things went sometimes. He didn’t regret for a moment coming into the compound. The only thing he wished was that he left his men outside.
He half expected to hear an engine roar coming at them. Lopez was their only hope, but apparently he couldn’t get to them in time.
Dale put his finger on the trigger.
This wasn’t going to be pretty, but when was it ever?
Awani had that look of smug terrorist superiority.
Dale may not make it out here. His men may not make it out of here. Rimaha may not make it out here, but Awani definitely wasn’t going to make it out of here.
“What? You’re not begging for your lives?”
Clearly this guy was used to dealing with the Afghan army.
Special Forces didn’t beg for squat.
Dale could feel the tension in the room ratchet up.
Once a single bullet flew, this thing was going to get nasty.
Then a man just to left of Awani dropped. A bullet wound to the forehead. Then another and another. Before Awani could give an order, a bullet struck him through the throat, dropping him as well.
Sniper fire. The only problem? They didn’t have a sniper.
* * *
Brandt didn’t wait for the order. The fact that they were going to retreat was obvious.
Svengurd had already started laying down cover fire and dragging Rimaha out of the room.
Dale and Brandt added to that gunfire, mowing down anyone else who was left standing.
The whine of an engine announced the arrival of Lopez on an ATV.
Between the corporal and their mystery sniper, they might just make it out of here alive.
A bullet sliced through Brandt’s jacket, narrowly missing his shoulder. Svengurd took a bullet to the calf. It didn’t slow the point man down one bit. They were nearly to the door when Lopez came through the wall with the ATV. The ceiling cracked and tumbled down on them.
Dale cried out, as a huge chunk of the roof fell on him.
Brandt dove forward protecting his commanding officer from another piece of ceiling. When Brandt got to Dale, he tried to pull him up, but his commanding officer gasped, protection his shoulder.
Even with a thick jacket on, it was pretty damned obvious that Dale’s shoulder was dislocated as the captain’s arm dangled at his side.
Brandt hooked his arms under the other shoulder, and pulled Dale out from the rubble. Svengurd was already getting Rimaha into the ATV. Another bullet zinged past Brandt’s ear and exploded into the wall behind him.
Their mystery sniper joined in the fight again, taking out the remaining terrorists.
It gave them a little room to breathe and get into the ATV, which Lopez slammed into reverse, sending them screaming backwards, out into the compound.
He spun them around, heading out the compound’s open gate.
A Taliban tried to give chase, but was cut down by the unknown sniper.
Lopez headed straight for the man’s position. The guy better be friendly or they were in trouble.
* * *
Dale had taken a bullet to the thigh and his shoulder wasn’t going back into the joint anytime soon, but his concern was Rimaha. She looked like crap again. Her color was pale, and her pulse was racing again.
They finally arrived at the sniper’s location, a small jut of rocks on a hill.
A young man came out to join them. Really young. The kid looked like he should still be in high school.
Dale had to blink twice. “Davidson?”
The sniper smiled. “Yes, sir, reporting to duty.”
“But we missed you in Kabul.”
The young man nodded. “I knew the general parameters of the mission and followed you to Awani’s compound.”
Lopez looked around. “But you don’t have a vehicle.”
Davidson shrugged. “I ran.”
“Ran?” Brandt asked.
“Yes, sir.”
Okay, the kid wasn’t even officially on duty yet and had already earned his place on the team.
Dale turned his attention back to Rimaha. If anything she was doing worse.
He held her tight. There wasn’t much else he could do. A second non-matched transfusion would kill her nearly as assuredly as doing nothing.
Dale cradled her head, stroking her cheek as her breathing slowed and her color turned an ashen grey.
She was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Rimaha summoned the strength to open her eyes and smiled. “Thank you.”
Dale snorted. “For what? I couldn’t save you.”
“No, but for giving me hope for all these years.”
Then she sighed, her head lolling over as her dead eyes stared off into the distance.
Dale didn’t care that he was also bleeding out. He didn’t care that his team was watching, he just started bawling. That kind of crying that only your cat should really see. He sobbed, rocking Rimaha back and forth.
Lopez was the one that nudged him. “Sir, I need to treat this wound. You don’t have enough blood to go around.”
Someone was putting a tourniquet on his leg. He didn’t know or even care as he rocked the woman he loved.
EPILOGUE
Brandt sat next to Dale’s hospital bed. His commanding officer had required four hours of surgery on his leg and his shoulder was so bad that they needed to go in and surgically correct that as well.
Dale was in for a world of physical therapy. It would be months before he was operational again.
A groan came from his commanding officer as the man tried to rise into a sitting position.
Brandt helped Dale up and shoved a pillow behind his back to help him stay up.
His commanding officer seemed groggy. “Where am I?”
“Germany, sir,” Brandt stated, offering Dale a cup of water.
“And Rimaha?”
You could hear the pain in his commanding officer’s voice.
“We found some cousins in Kabul, the entire family will have a proper burial.”
Dale just nodded, looking off into the distance.
“Sir, the doctors expect a full recovery, A few months in PT, and you’ll be as good as new.”
Dale shook his head. “That’s where the doctors are wrong. I’m not coming back.”
“Sir!”
His commanding officer put a hand up. “There’s no surgery that will fix what’s broken inside me.”
Brandt sat down next to Dale. “Sir, if it’s PTSD there are great therapists--”
“I’m not shaken by combat, Brandt.”
“Sir, there would be no shame in it if you were.”
Strangely Dale got a smile on his face. “No, no there wouldn’t, but that’s not my problem.”
“Then what is?”
Dale took in a deep breath before continuing. “I want to kill them. I would kill them all. Not just for Rimaha, but for every single one of the innocent killed.”
Brandt cocked his head. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Svengurd and Lopez are already tracking down the rest of Awani’s crew.”
“No, I mean I want to kill. Them. All. Every single police officer that has looked the other way. Every politician that has taken bribes. Every member of the Afghan army that is protecting a drug lord. All of them. This never could have happened if the entire country wasn’t so corrupt.”
Brandt blew out a breath. This was the opposite side of the coin to PTSD. This was hyper-aggression. Burn-out at its worst.
It was o
ne thing to be gun shy, it was quite another to be trigger-happy.
At the least, Dale knew the difference.
And his commanding officer was absolutely correct. If this was the condition of his heart and mind, he needed to get out before he injured himself or a member of the team. Special Force’s units only worked if their commander was cool under the collar.
Dale was also right about another thing. Once that rage burned within you, it seldom cooled.
“I’m not sure what I could say that would help you the most,” Brandt stated.
The Captain gave a wane smile. “That you aren’t disappointed in me.”
Brandt snorted. “Never, sir. I just hope that if I get to that point, I handle it as honestly and with as much grace as you are.”
“You can tell the rest of them for me?”
“Of course.”
“Good, because you will be their new CO.”
“What do you mean?” Brandt asked. “The brass are going to want someone higher ranked to lead Alpha Tango.”
Dale shook his head. “How many promotions have you turned down? How many inquiries to lead your own team have you declined?
Brandt couldn’t meet Dale’s eye.
“There you have it,” Dale stated. “The last thing I will do is get you appointed CO to Alpha Tango before I leave the military.” Then Brandt’s commanding officer smiled, this time a real smile. “You’re going to have to keep Lopez though. It’s a deal breaker.”
Brandt had to think a few moments before nodding his head to that one.
Turkmenistan Take-down – the prequel short story of the Rapid Response Thriller series
Bullets flew past Colonel Avery Prosper’s head, pinging into the sides of the parked cars he was using as cover.
So much for freaking stealth.
“Incoming!” Captain Jonathan Jackson, aka Johnny J, Prosper’s second in command yelled above the firefight.
Prosper rolled under a large truck just as a missile hit the vehicle he had been hiding behind, throwing the economy car high into the air. The thing came down, right in its own parking spot.
“Do we even have the package?” Prosper yelled into his mic.
The 3rd Cycle of the Betrayed Series Collection: Extremely Controversial Historical Thrillers (Betrayed Series Boxed set) Page 48
