by Mark Harritt
Mike blinked. It all happened so quickly. Matki was up and running. And now he was down, possibly dead. The gunfire from the aircraft stopped.
Everett looked at Mike, stunned, “Mike, what do you want to do?”
Mike stared at the body in the field. He hated saying what he knew he had to say, but he had no choice. He had to think of the team, and do the best thing he could for Jendi, “Nothing. There’s nothing we can do right now. If he’s dead, then we give away our position for nothing. If he’s alive, he’s playing possum, and the last thing we need to do is give them reason to shoot at him some more. If they leave quickly, then we can go out and find out if he’s still alive. If he’s not alive, then I’ll spend the rest of my life tracking them down to kill them. If he is alive, then we do what we can to stabilize him and get him home.”
“What do we do if they land?” Mickey asked.
“Kill every single one of them,” Mike growled.
A rumble of satisfaction from Mickey greeted Mike’s proclamation.
Jendi noticed the change. He didn’t know it, but Mike and the team had just gone from quiet professionals to avenging angels, terrible to behold. Jendi looked at the faces of his father’s friends. He didn’t know these steely eyed, hard edged men. These weren’t the men that played with the children of his tribe. These weren’t the men that were shy and polite around his mother. These weren’t the men that tickled his little brother and teased his little sister.
These men were gods. They were gods of death, destruction, and revenge. Jendi was suddenly afraid. Not because of what they would do to him. He knew them better than that. Instead, he was afraid of what might be unleased on the world. He didn’t know what the phrase meant, and he wouldn’t have known what it meant had someone explained it to him. But what he was afraid of was the law of unintended consequences. He was afraid for the souls of his father’s friends.
Mike moved forward to the edge of the tree line. The rest of the team did the same. Mike pointed at Geonti and Jendi and pointed behind them, indicating that they should watch for anyone trying to come at them from that direction. Geonti grabbed Jendi and moved him away from the edge of the trees and back into the undergrowth.
Mike wanted Jendi away from them in case something went awry. At least Jendi and Geonti would be able to get away if things went south quickly.
The team watched as the aircraft circled to land. There were too many trees where Matki lay, so it would have to land away from the body. The aircraft slowly settled down into a clearing, and Mike saw grey men standing on the ramp of the aircraft.
“Mike, look at Matki,” Everett was pointing at the body.
Mike looked, and saw Matki crawling, “Shit, shit, shit,” he cursed. Matki was still alive, and there was no way to get to him. Mike looked back over at the aircraft. Fourteen men came walking out of the back, headed toward Matki. There were too many of them, and the team was out numbered.
“Fuck this, I’m going to get Matki,” Mickey growled as he picked up his medic bag. He started to rush forward, but Caul saw what he was doing, and quickly tried to restrain the big man. There was no way that Caul could have stopped Mickey if he wanted to continue, but Mickey swallowed his emotions and acquiesced. Mike saw that it was a bitter pill going down.
Caul whistled, warbling like some of the birds in the valley. His whistle was answered from the clearing. Caul waved his hand to get their attention, then he closed his fist, indicating that they should freeze in place. Mike knew what Matki was doing. He was giving his life so that his friends could live.
The grey men kept coming. Matki had crawled to about one hundred and fifty meters from the tree line where the team was. The grey men were within a hundred meters of Matki.
“Mickey, how good are you with the ‘203?” Mike asked.
“Not as good as Rob, but good enough.”
“How many rounds you got left?”
“Five.”
“Think you can put them close to Matki without hurting him?”
“He’s on the ground, so the shrapnel should fly over him, as long as they don’t land too close to him.”
The group of men surrounded Matki and faced out. One of the men in the back barked an order, and one of the others approached Matki.
“Okay guys, our priority is to drive them back from Matki. Once they peel back, then you hit them with the ‘203, Mickey. Tom,” Mike looked at Tom, “Ah, fuck it, you know the deal.”
Tom grinned. There were fourteen men around Matki. There weren’t going to be that many who made it back to the aircraft, if any at all.
The grey man squatted down next to Matki. He reached down, grabbed Matki’s shoulder, and pulled him over so that he could see Matki’s face. Mike saw something move between Matki and the grey man. Mike heard the sound of gunshots.
“Now!” he yelled.
The team opened up. Four men went down. At a hundred and fifty meters, it was like shooting fish in a barrel for the team. The grey soldier fell down on top of Matki. Mike didn’t know he was alive or dead until he heard the pistol bark again. Another grey man went down. The team kept firing and more of the soldiers were hit. The leader yelled and the grey men turned and ran toward the aircraft.
Mike and the team shot the ones running away in the back. Mickey didn’t have to worry about danger close for Matki, so he sent two 40mm grenades into the running pack and more of the hostiles went down. Mike wanted to make sure that none of them escaped. The odds were definitely in the team’s favor at this point. Mike stood up and started running after the grey men. Caul broke away from the team once they left the tree line and ran toward Matki to protect him. Caul yelled something, and had two answering yells from Jendi and Geonti. Mike felt better knowing that they were going to help Matki.
The team ran from cover to cover, shooting at the men running in front of them. From their body types, Mike was pretty sure he didn’t want to get into a close fight with them. Their muscularity looked brutal. But they weren’t built for running. It showed as the team closed the distance between them and the hostiles.
The leader of the grey men yelled, and two of the soldiers turned, kneeled and started shooting back at the team. Fear had taken a hold of them, and none of their bullets came close to the team. One of them went down with a bullet in the chest. It took three bullets to knock the other one down. There were four left, and Mike shot one through the back, knocking him forward onto his face. Another went down and the last two raced for the ramp of the aircraft.
Mike had to give it to the last soldier. He was a brave man, trying to protect his leader. The leader didn’t deserve that kind of loyalty, though. He’d been the first one to turn and run under fire, deserting his men in the clearing. Mike tried to shoot the leader, but Murphy got in the way. When the soldier turned, he unwittingly gave his leader cover. All the bullets aimed at the leader slammed into the soldier. He went down, hard.
Mike watched in frustration as the leader raced up the back of the ramp. A curious thing happened. Shots rang out from inside the aircraft, and the leader pitched back onto the ramp, his face a bloody mess. A tall humanoid creature stepped out of the back of the aircraft, and spit into the face of the leader.
It looked human, but it had some kind of light blue pouch on its neck that pulsed in time with its breathing. The hands were strange as well. It looked like it may have started out with four fingers, but the third and fourth fingers seemed to be fused together, creating one broader digit. Other than that, it didn’t seem to be much different than other humans. It was pretty tall though. While it was skinnier than Mickey, it was about four inches taller than him.
“This place just keeps getting weirder and weirder,” Mike thought, “I’m going to see a white rabbit with a timepiece and a smiling Cheshire cat next.”
The team stopped running, and walked slowly to the back of the aircraft. As they passed the wounded on the ground, they killed them with head shots. Mike didn’t take his eyes off of the strange m
an at the back of the aircraft. It still had the pistol in its hand, but it wasn’t pointed at the team, so Mike didn’t shoot him. The strange man, who Mike assumed was the pilot of the aircraft, was busy kicking the dead leader in the ribs, speaking in a loud voice that Mike would recognize in whatever language might be used. The pilot was busy cursing the leader as he kicked him in the side.
They walked up to the back of the aircraft. Everett shot the last soldier in the head. This attracted the attention of the pilot. He looked up to see the four soldiers studying him intently. He noticed that their rifles weren’t pointed at him, but weren’t exactly pointed away either. He looked down at the pistol in his hand. His hand moved, almost of its own volition, and four rifles came up at exactly the same time with a smooth action that was intense in its deliberation and conservation of motion.
As he stared down the barrels of the weapons pointed at him, the pilot realized that whatever he did next would determine his fate. Looking at their faces, he had no illusions about what would happen if the muzzle of the pistol turned towards them. So he slowly turned the muzzle of the pistol in a direction that was not anywhere near these warriors. He knelt down, and since he was so tall, it seemed to take a very long time. He placed the gun on the ramp, and stood back up. Hands up and open so that they could see that he didn’t have any weapons.
Mike motioned for the strange man to walk toward him. The pilot walked down the ramp. He walked toward Mike, and as soon as he stood in front of him, Everett grabbed one arm, and Mickey grabbed the other. They hustled him over to the side and put his hands against the skin of the aircraft. Then they pushed his feet back, making him put weight on his hands so that it would be harder for him to move. They did a quick pat down, and when they didn’t find any other weapons, they gave the okay to Mike.
Mike walked over, pointed at himself, and said, “Mike.” He pointed at Everett, and said, “Everett.” He pointed at Mickey, and said, “Mickey.” Mike pointed at Tom, and said, “Tom.” Then he pointed at the pilot, with a questioning look on his face.
The pilot stared at the four of them, then comprehension dawned across his face. His head tilted slightly to one side and he bowed his head, “Shar.”
----------------------------------------------------
Chapter Six
Mickey spoke first, “Mike, I’m going back to check on Matki.”
Mike didn’t take his eyes off of Shar, “Go ahead, we’ve got this.” Tom had kept his rifle trained on the interior of the aircraft, “Tom, make sure there isn’t anybody else in the aircraft.”
“You got it, Mike,” Tom walked up the ramp to look inside.
Shar seemed like a cautious man, which was good to Mike’s way of thinking. Less likely for there to be misunderstandings that way. Still, there was the problem that Mike couldn’t understand him, and he couldn’t understand Mike.
“What do you want to do, Mike?” Everett asked.
Mike looked at the pilot and the aircraft, “Well, let’s keep him away from the aircraft. Everett, you take him over to those trees. I’m going in to take a look around.”
Everett nodded, “You got it.” He motioned at Shar, and then pointed at the small copse of trees about a hundred feet away. Shar reluctantly looked at his aircraft, then turned and started walking.”
Mike walked up the ramp into the aircraft. He had to be careful because the blood on the ramp made it slick. He stepped past the corpse and looked inside. He moved forward to stand next to Tom. The aircraft was still powered. He could feel the hum of the engine through the floor.
Tom heard Mike walk up behind him. He looked back, “Nobody else in here.”
Mike nodded, “Let’s look around, and make sure he doesn’t have any more weapons.”
The aircraft was roughly rectangular inside. Rows of removable seats lined the two walls, up to the front of the aircraft. Unlike transport aircraft that Mike was used to, this one only had one seat up front for the pilot. Evidently he was the only crew member. Beside that seat was a table with cup holders and other openings with things like pens and licky chewies stacked in them. The table had latches on the side. Mike clicked the latches, and the front of the table moved up and back.
Inside there were bottles of some kind of liquid, and containers that looked like they had food inside them. There was also a spare rifle like the one the grey men used, and additional clothing that looked like it would fit Shar. There were other things in there that looked like communication equipment or computer touch pads. Mike didn’t touch those, afraid he might accidently blow up the aircraft.
Mike looked at the control panel. It had gauges in a language that Mike didn’t understand. The controls looked familiar to Mike, almost like a helicopter. Since it was still powered up, he didn’t go near the controls.
They looked around, but they didn’t find any more weapons. Tom grabbed the rifle, and they went back outside. Mike and Tom walked back over to the pilot.
Everett was standing so that he could watch both the pilot and the aircraft. He watched Mike and Tom walk back to him, “He’s trying to tell me something, but I can’t understand it.”
“Is it the same language as Matki’s?”
Everett shook his head, “No, I don’t think so. I think this is a completely different language. It doesn’t sound the same. Sounds a little bit like the one the grey men use.”
Mike had to think about this. If they could figure out a way to talk to this guy, they might be able to find out why the hell the hostiles wanted to kill them. Shar didn’t seem like he had any great affection for the grey men. Mike had seen the look on Shar’s face when he shot the guy on the ramp. There was definitely no love lost there.
Mike had no idea what cultural or personality dynamics were in play here. Until he knew the score, the best thing to do was to treat this guy as hostile. The enemy of my enemy was not always my friend, but Shar was potentially an ally. He was definitely a source of information, information that Mike desperately needed. He wished that Lenny Reitch was here to help with the new language.
Mike looked back at the aircraft, “I wish we knew how to fly that aircraft. That would be extremely helpful.
Everett grinned, “What, you want to jack the transport? We gonna leave the pilot here?”
Mike grinned right back at him, and started singing, “I’m leavin’ on a jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again.”
Tom joined in, singing off key in his slow, southern drawl, “Oh baby, I don’t want to go-o-o-o.”
Everett frowned, “I think that’s enough of that.”
Mike thought about Matki, and his mood changed quickly, “Hey, I’m going to go check on Matki. You guys watch the pilot.”
Mike turned and started jogging back across the field, following the trail of dead bodies to find Mickey working on Matki’s leg, “Hey Mick, how is he?”
Mickey and Matki looked up at Mike. Matki was propped up on his back pack. Caul and Geonti were watching the perimeter, looking for danger. Mickey was probing to make sure there wasn’t anything in the wound channel. Mike could see the pain in Matki’s eyes. Jendi was holding his father’s hand, grimacing when Matki’s grip tightened due to the pain. Matki tried to smile, his bravado lending him strength, “I should have jigged when I jagged.”
Mike face remained serious as he nodded, “That helps.”
Mickey had cut the leather pants back to look at Matki’s leg, “Well, we got lucky. He got hit in the meat of the thigh, but it doesn’t look like the bullet hit any arteries and it missed the bone. He’s going to be off of the leg for about a month while it heals, maybe more. I may have to do some surgery, but I don’t want to do it here. I might have to stuff a tube in there and keep the wound open so that it heals from the inside out.”
Mike squatted down next to Matki, and put his hand on Matki’s shoulder, “You scared the hell out of us. I thought you were dead.”
Matki’s face turned serious, “I thought I was as well.”
&n
bsp; “That was a good ploy, luring them in so that we could shoot them.”
Matki shook his head, “I didn’t even know you were close until I heard Caul whistle. I was trying to get to the tree line for cover. I just knew that I was going to take some of the bastards with me.”
Mike grinned, “Well, you sure pulled out a can of whoop ass on them. You should have seen the leader run. Like the hounds of hell were on his ass.”
Matki grinned back, “They were. I watched you, Mickey, Everett, and Tom run after them.”
A bellow from across the river intruded on their conversation. Mike looked up toward the river. He knew that sound. It was the Ancient.
“Matki, how sure are you that the Ancient won’t cross the river?”
Matki was looking toward the river as well, concern on his face, “Pretty sure.”
Mike looked back at Matki, “Are you willing to bet your life on it?”
Matki shook his head, “No, not with a hole in my leg.” He looked at Jendi, “And I definitely won’t bet Jendi’s life on it.”
“Mickey, can you get him ready to travel?”
Mickey shook his head, “No, not really. I can put some quick clot on and sling him over my shoulder, though.”
Mike nodded, “Let’s get him over to the aircraft. We need to get further up the valley.”
Mickey looked at Mike, “You trust the pilot?”
Another bellow sounded. Mike thought it sounded like the Ancient was getting closer, “No, but I trust him more that I trust that damn dragon.”
“Good point. You grab our stuff, I’ll grab Matki, and we’ll see who gets to the aircraft first.”
Mickey stood up, pulled Matki up to a sitting position, and then levered him up over his shoulder so that he could rap one arm around the unwounded leg. Matki cried out as Mickey put him over his shoulder. Mickey turned with Matki on his back and started running. Jendi stood up, torn between running after his dad, and staying to help Mike. Mike grabbed him, turned him toward the aircraft, and gave him a push, “Go!” Jendi started running after Mickey.
