Triumph in the Ashes

by William W. Johnstone

  “That very well could be,” Ben agreed.

  Jersey cast an eye toward Cooper, who was walking up ahead with a jaunty air about him. “I think Coop is more relieved that we haven’t seen much indigenous wildlife than he is by the absence of hostile forces,” she said, referring to Cooper’s well-known aversion to wild critters of any kind, especially snakes or spiders.

  “You got that right, Jersey,” Cooper answered. “And I’m not ashamed to admit it, either. I have absolutely no use for anything that has no legs, or more than two.”

  As he finished speaking a rolling peal of thunder and a brilliant flash of lightning lit up the late afternoon sky. Suddenly the heavens opened, and the heaviest rainfall any of the group had ever seen began to fall.

  As they scrambled to get their ponchos out of their packs, Ben yelled over the roar of the falling rain, “See, Coop, you should never tempt the gods by saying how easy things are. It just gives them a reason to crap on you with something unexpected.”

  Cooper looked up, unable to see Ben through the rain even though he was only five feet away. “You’re right, Boss. Next time I open my big mouth, feel free to stick a boot in it.”

  Jersey piped up, “Does that offer hold for the rest of us, too?”

  “In your dreams, girl, in your dreams,” Cooper added.

  “Mount up, team. Let’s try to get another klick in before full dark. Then we’ll make camp, if we can find some trees heavy enough to block off the rain.”

  They had traveled only another hundred yards when they came to a small stream swollen by the sudden downpour into a raging river, complete with white caps from the driving winds.

  Anna punched Cooper in the shoulder. “Boy, Coop, when you jinx us, you really do it good.”

  Ben turned to Corrie. “If you can keep your radio dry, try to bump the other squads and tell them to go on and make camp now. It doesn’t look like we’re going any farther until this rain stops and this river slows down a bit.”

  “Right, Boss. Beth, come over here and hold your poncho over me, and I’ll get on the horn right away.”

  For security reasons Ben had the four platoons accompanying him spread over a kilometer or more so that any ambush wouldn’t be able to catch them all at the same time. His own contingent of roughly a hundred soldiers was behind them in the jungle, out of sight in the pouring rain, with his Acting XO, John Watson, bringing up the rear of his column.

  Jersey walked over to stand next to Cooper, who was standing on the river’s edge, watching the fast-flowing current.

  “Care to go for a swim, Coop?” she asked, playfully giving him a little shove toward the water.

  He stepped back to avoid her, tripped over a log in the knee-high grass, and fell onto his back in the mud.

  “Damn it, Jersey,” he snapped. “Look what you’ve done. Now I’m all wet.”

  She threw back her head and laughed out loud. “You’ve been all wet ever since I’ve known you, Coop.”

  Suddenly, he screamed and began to roll and thrash about in the weeds. After a moment he jumped to his feet, his arms spread out, hollering in terror and looking at his chest. A six-foot long Gabon viper was hanging down his front, its fangs imbedded in his poncho, writhing and coiling in anger.

  “Holy shit!” Jersey cried.

  She whipped out her combat knife, and with one quick slash severed the head from the snake’s body, allowing the lower five feet of the reptile to fall squirming to the ground.

  “Get it off! Get it off!” Copper yelled, unwilling to touch the vicious looking head that was still attached to his poncho.

  “Oh for Christ’s sake, Coop, get a grip,” Jersey said as she stepped up and plucked the viper’s head off him. Being careful not to touch its fangs, which were dripping with venom, she cast it into the rushing stream, where it was rapidly swept away.

  Cooper leaned over, his hands on his knees, breathing rapidly, gasping for breath, as he hyperventilated in fear.

  Jersey, feeling sorry for what had happened, walked over to stand next to him, nudging his thigh with her boot to get his attention.

  “I’m sorry, Coop. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I was just joking with you.”

  Still unable to speak, Cooper merely nodded.

  Jersey’s eyes glazed over for a moment, remembering her dream of the night before where she had seen Cooper covered in snakes. Was the dream a premonition, brought to her by her Apache ancestors, as had so often happened in the past? Was the rest of it going to come true, too?

  Suddenly apprehensive, she swung her CAR around to hold it at port arms. “Boss,” she called, “listen up. I’ve got a bad feeling about this place.”

  Ben looked up from where he was erecting a small pup tent under the overhanging limbs of a giant tree. He had learned over the years to trust his team members’ instincts. Without hesitating he reached for his M-14 Thunder Lizard and called, “Heads up, people.”

  The team members, well-trained to act on orders without hesitation, scrambled to find cover, readying their weapons as they dove behind trees and bushes.

  Just as Cooper straightened up, grabbing his SAW, Jersey saw two black men wearing leopard skins on their heads step from cover twenty feet away.

  She swung her CAR around, but before she could pull the trigger the two men opened fire with AK47s.

  The deep, guttural roar of the rifles on full automatic drowned out the sound of the rain as bullets stitched across Cooper and Jersey’s bodies, spinning them around and throwing them into the river. They were immediately swept out of sight by the current.

  Ben, Beth, and Corrie opened up with their weapons, blowing the two hostiles into pieces as they were cut down in seconds. From the bushes and foliage surrounding the campsite, Ben’s remaining team began to come under murderous fire.

  Without being told, Corrie got on the horn. “The eagle is under heavy fire. Watch your asses, there may be more out there!”

  Dropping her radio, Corrie thumbed the safety off her CAR and began to return fire, sweeping the bushes around them with deadly accuracy, grinning through tight lips as several bodies fell from cover to lie writhing and dying on the ground.

  The semi-darkness was lit with flickering flashes from the weapons as the sound of the rain was buried under loud explosions of M-16s and the louder, deeper roar of Ben’s Thunder Lizard.

  When his first magazine was empty Ben rolled to his side, next to his pack, spilled out several white phosphorus grenades. He jerked the pins on three of them at once and lobbed them in different directions.

  The grenades exploded with tremendous impact, lighting up the entire area with blue-white light and setting even the raindrenched jungle around them on fire.

  Six men who had been near the grenades stood up, screaming, their clothes, hair, and even their skins on fire from the deadly, clinging, white phosphorus.

  As the team cut them down the other hostiles in the area began to retreat, not having expected such vicious response to their trap.

  As dark shapes could be seen running away, a phosphorus flare exploded in the sky, illuminating the entire area with daylike brightness.

  John Watson—taking John Michaels’ place while he brought the boats down the coast—and reinforcements, could be seen surrounding the fleeing assassins. They cut them down as soon as they showed themselves.

  In minutes, it was over. Ben’s platoon had lost seven men, while the attackers had been wiped out to the last person. Since Ben had ordered no prisoners were to be taken, several of Michaels’s troops walked through the area, dispatching any wounded hostiles without a second thought. Single gunshots could occasionally be heard in the distance.

  Watson came over to approach Ben, who was standing at the river’s edge, shining a light along the shore.

  “You OK, Ben?”

  “No, John, I’m not. I may have lost Jersey and Cooper.”

  Watson bent down and studied the ground. “I don’t see any bloodstains. Are you sure they we
re hit?”

  “I saw the bullets tear into their ponchos. They were thrown backward so fast they didn’t have time to bleed before they were in the water.”

  He pitched a stick into the river and watched it float rapidly away. “And even if they somehow managed to survive, that current will have them miles away by now.”

  “Do you want us to send a search party?”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Ben said, “No.” He turned and started to walk away. He paused and said, “If they’re alive, they’ll make it back to us. If they’re dead, then it’s something I’ll have to find some way to live with.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Ben shrugged. “Jersey and Cooper know we’re headed south toward Soyo and the Congo to meet up with John Michaels and the rest of the brigade. If it’s humanly possible, they’ll join us there.”

  TEN

  Jersey and Cooper somehow managed to hang on to each other in the swirling waters of the raging river. After floating for several miles on the twisting, roiling current, they were finally thrown exhausted onto a riverbank on the southern side of the water.

  They lay there for a while, breathing heavily, coughing up foul river water, trying to get their strength back.

  Finally, Cooper rolled over to tap Jersey on the shoulder. “Hey, girl. You OK?”

  She looked at him and shook her head. “If I don’t catch some fatal disease from this stinkin’ water I’ll probably make it. How about you?”

  He glanced down where he was holding his left shoulder with his right hand. “Got a minor flesh wound in the shoulder. The boss was right about those vests. If it hadn’t been for them, we’d be dead meat.”

  Jersey felt her chest gingerly. “Yeah. Even so, I feel like I’ve been kicked in the chest by a mule, or several mules, even.”

  Cooper tried to stand, then sat back down heavily as his face paled and he became dizzy.

  Jersey reached into a pouch on her belt and pulled out a small first aid kit. “Here, Coop. Let me put a tight bandage on that wound. You’ve probably lost more blood than you think.”

  He grinned and pushed her away. “Don’t you try to mother hen me, Jersey. I’m OK.” He tried to stand again, and fainted dead away.

  When he woke up he saw he had been dragged under the leaves of a large banyan tree and was lying propped up against the trunk with a large bandage on his arm. “Whoa, Nelly, what hit me?”

  “You dummy. You passed out when you tried to get up. I told you you’d lost a lot of blood but, typically, you didn’t listen.” She snorted through her nose. “Men!”

  He began to shiver, and said through chattering teeth, “Thanks, Jersey.”

  He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and continued to shake. “I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”

  “Hell, you’re no more trouble than you always are.” She hesitated, watching him shiver. “Now it looks like you’re going into shock.”

  She got up and went off into the jungle, returning a few minutes later with four long sticks. She stuck them in the ground in a square and pulled off her poncho and fastened it to the poles, forming a makeshift tent over them.

  “You didn’t happen to hang onto your pack, did you?” She asked.

  He shook his head. “No, did you?”

  “No.” She thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Take off your clothes. They’re wringing wet.” She began to unbutton her shirt.

  With a weak grin, Cooper said, “I know you’ve lusted after me all these years, but this is not the time or place to consummate your desires, Jersey.”

  “Shut up, you asshole! You’re in shock and I need to get you warm. The only way to do that is to use what we have available, which in this particular instance is body heat. We’re gonna have to lie against each other with the wet clothes over us to generate some heat.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t expect you to sacrifice your dignity for me.”

  “It’s not for you, you jerk. It’s for me. I don’t want to have to carry your fat butt all over the jungle until you get well. Now get those clothes off and lie down.”

  He sighed. “OK”

  As she lay naked against him and pulled their clothing over them, she said, “And don’t get any funny ideas, Romeo. I can still break your arm if I need to.”

  “Don’t worry,” he shot back. “My interests lie in the direction of women, not lethal weapons who haven’t worn a skirt in ten years.”

  As Jersey wrapped her arms around Cooper, she smiled. As long as he could joke like that he was going to be all right. Though she would never admit it, she would have been heartbroken if he had been killed. Life just wouldn’t be the same without Cooper to make fun of.

  Dawn broke the next morning with sunshine and no further rain. Jersey came awake to find Cooper spooned against her, his left arm circled over her and his left hand clasping her naked breast.

  She jerked upright, saying, “Hey, watch the hand!”

  He came suddenly awake, blushing crimson. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize . . . it must have been instinct.”

  She stood, pulling her clothes from the pile covering them. “OK, just don’t let it happen again.”

  He rolled over, his back to her, and began to pull his pants on.

  “Don’t worry. I need my fingers so I can eat.” He looked up. “Speaking of which, what’s for breakfast?”

  She turned, her shirt hanging open, unaware of the alluring picture she made. “What do I look like, your cook?”

  “You don’t happen to have any chocolate in your pouch, do you?” he asked.

  She grimaced. “No. I ate mine on the trail yesterday, and hadn’t had time to replace it before we were attacked.”

  He grinned, pulling a large Hershey bar from his first aid pouch. “Ta-da! I’ve still got mine.”

  She turned and began to button her blouse. “Well, hooray for you.”

  She didn’t tell him the sight of the chocolate was making her mouth water.

  He reached over her shoulder to hand her half the bar. “Here. And Jersey, thanks for last night. You saved my life.”

  She took the bar and began stuffing it in her mouth, mumbling, “Hell, it’s only worth about half a stick of chocolate, anyway, so now we’re even.”

  He grinned at her back. “You want great white hunter to go and hunt us down some real food?”

  “Oh, you in the mood for monkey brains?”

  He shook his head. “No, but I see a tree right over there that has some kind of large, red and yellow fruit hanging on it. How about I shinney up the tree and pick us some?”

  “Yeah, that sounds good.” She pointed to the east. “Over there are some bananas, or probably plantains. I’ll pick those and start a fire, since they taste terrible if they’re not cooked.”

  After they ate, they sat warming their hands over the fire. “What do you think we should do next?” Cooper asked.

  “Well, the boss probably thinks we’re dead, won’t send a search party. I think we should head due south as fast as we can, and try to meet up with the team at Soyo.”

  He nodded. “Me, too. Any chance our combat mikes are still working, after soaking in the river all night?”

  She frowned. “I doubt it . . . maybe after they dry out. But their range is only a few miles. I think we’re way farther away than that.”

  He stood and began kicking dirt over the fire. “OK, partner, let’s mount up and head south. We got a rendezvous to make.”

  They made good time through the rain forest. The canopy of tree limbs over their heads was almost seventy feet high, but the undergrowth at ground level was relatively sparse, since sunlight couldn’t penetrate the overhead leaves and cover.

  They had little trouble finding trails that ran in a generally due south direction, and were slowed only by the need for caution, so as not to come upon a hostile force unawares.

  As they trotted along at a slow jog Jersey said, “You know, Coop, I had a vision the other night about
what happened to us.”

  Starting to breathe heavily from the heat and humidity, Cooper asked, “Oh. Tell me about it.”

  Moving easily, as if running were as natural to her as walking, Jersey was hardly puffing at all.

  “I saw you with the snake, and then I saw us getting shot. At first I thought I had a vision of my death, but then I remembered that’s not possible.”

  “You mean you can’t foretell the manner of your death?” gasped Cooper, sweat running freely down his forehead.

  “Yes. The medicine men used to say the Father in the Sky would not put that kind of burden on mankind, especially since man could do nothing to change his visions.”

  Cooper held up his hand. “Wait a minute.”

  He stopped in the middle of the trail to bend over, hands on knees as he caught his breath. “So the visions aren’t always accurate . . . sometimes you can change what you see?”

  “Yes. For instance, if a brave saw his people being defeated in an upcoming battle, he could try to persuade them not to fight, or to pick a different place to attack.” She shrugged. “My visions have always been erratic, probably because I am not full-blooded Apache. My blood’s been diluted by the genes of the unbelievers, the white eyes.”

  Cooper pulled his canteen out and took a hearty swig, then sleeved sweat off his face. He took a long look at Jersey. “No offense, but I think the dilution was a good thing for you. Most of the Apache women I’ve seen in old pictures look like their parents mated with buffalo or something.”

  Jersey arched an eyebrow. “Oh, so you think I’m pretty?”

  He smirked. “I didn’t say that, girl. I just said you didn’t look like a buffalo . . . that’s a big difference from saying you’re pretty.”

  He cocked his head to one side and stared at her some more. “More like . . . not completely unappealing is how I’d put it.”

  She shook her head and gave him a light punch on his good shoulder, making his arm smart and throb. “You butt-lick male chauvinist pig.”

  He grinned. “That’s me. Oink, oink.”