Insurgency

by Alex Shaw

  “I am a Sun-Walker. Sunlight has no effect upon me.”

  “Such things exist?”

  Black shrugged. “Apparently they do now.”

  Hakim drank some more. “I did not know that you spoke Pashto.”

  “Neither did I.”

  Hakim grunted. “That is proof then. All Hamada speak my language; they understand everything in all languages. Yet I cannot explain to the Americans what they will be fighting and if I could they would not believe me.”

  “How many of your men survived the attack?”

  “One. And you are the only American survivor. If these Hamada are not stopped they will destroy all that is before them.”

  “Then we must stop them.”

  “We?”

  “You and I.”

  Deh Rawod District, Uruzgan Province, Afghanistan

  The Afghan warlord removed a bandage from his forehead and inspected the blood. His head still spun, if he had been a doctor he would have been able to diagnose a severe concussion. He was in fact lucky to be alive. He moved his eyes to meet the cold stare of the Russian and felt his wrath boil over. “You told me my men would be invincible! Yet many died at the base and many more were killed in the cave! We had to flee here for our lives! Perhaps you are not as powerful as you claim to be, comrade?”

  Dratshev remained silent, the ranting of the Afghan had no meaning; all that mattered was that the tests continued. Summoning his own Black Hawk he had been spirited away by Vaha, to be with his own Vampires. As an after-thought he had collected Ghulam Ali. Now they were once again in his original test facility.

  The Afghan stood and pointed at him, accusingly. “Whose side are you on Russian?”

  “You are alive, the hostages are alive; many of your men are alive. If I had not been on your side you would all be dead already.”

  Ghulam Ali started to laugh and then coughed. “You really think that you are the one in charge here? You dare to threaten me, the mighty Ghulam Ali!”

  “Let me crush him and then take his blood!” Petro snarled in Russian.

  “That would be too easy.” Dratshev replied.

  “What are you talking about? You insult me by speaking in front of me in your foreign tongue!”

  “You have over-estimated your importance.” Dratshev stood and in a lightening quick action grabbed Ghulam Ali by the throat and lifted him into the air. The Afghan kicked and tore at Dratshev’s hand as his face purpled. “Shall I let you live? What purpose would you serve? Any? Let us see how these savages fight without a leader.” Abruptly Dratshev dropped the warlord onto the dirt floor.

  Ghulam Ali grabbed his neck and wheezed, fighting for air.

  The Vampires looked on, as though the human were an ant. Kirill put his booted foot on the man’s shoulder and pushed him further into the dirt.

  Dratshev turned to his men. “The Americans will attack the compound. Are the cameras in place?”

  “Da, Comrade General.” Vaha replied. “Oleg and Victor are overseeing the preparations.”

  “Then we must make ready to move out. Petro, Kirill take the rest of our equipment and place it in the helicopter. Vaha send the second hostage video.”

  As the Vampires carried out their orders, Ghulam Ali scrabbled backwards to the wall and gradually pulled himself upright. His face was that of a beaten dog, but inside he was livid and ready to start a fight that the Russian would not win.

  “The problem with your nation has always been one of self-importance.” Dratshev stated calmly. “I stood with Alexander of Macedon when he conquered Herat and Kandahar. In the two millennia that have passed since, your people have progressed little more than rats. Then you slept with family members and donkeys, today the same. Do you have any idea who I am, or what I am Afghan? Yet it is you who call yourself mighty?”

  The Afghan’s voice was raspy. “Dratshev you are so mighty that you are afraid of the sun? You are so mighty that we Afghans defeated your army? We sent you scurrying back to Mother Russia, to your mother’s skirts.”

  “Your wars, your fights are of no concern to me. They and you are insignificant.” Dratshev turned his back on the Afghan. “Kirill, destroy the cave.”

  Ghulam Ali moved forward. “Wait…you can’t leave me here to die! I am a Muslim, I am a warrior! I demand to die fighting!”

  “Then you shall.” Dratshev left the chamber.

  Kirill opened his mouth as his fangs slowly extended and his top lip drew back. He now smelt the fear from the human and it made his thirst stronger.

  Ghulam Ali raised his fists. “I shall die fighting! I shall die as a warrior!”

  “Indeed you will.” Kirill stated before he flew at the Afghan’s neck and sliced open his jugular.

  At the Dutch FOB the two Delta teams were crammed into a pre-fabricated briefing room away from the eyes and ears of the other ISAF personnel. The base was still on alert even though eyes in the sky had not reported any insurgent activity. ISAF command was being understandably cautious.

  At the front Ibanescu stood and faced the rest of the Delta Force operatives. “Listen up. The hostages have been located and we are going in. Those of you who were with me in the caves have seen what we’re up against and what effect our weapons had on them. Now is not the time for any of us to lose our nerve and start to talk about monsters, or super-humans or anything like that. We need to focus, suspend our disbelief if you will and just listen. Peter Pan and Hakim are the only two survivors of Python. Now hear what they have to say. Ok Peter Pan over to you.”

  Black stood. His throat was dry and he felt dizzy. In front of him the room swam in and out of focus. He tried to compose himself before he spoke. “Normal rounds have no effect on these Talibs, they’ll knock them down but they won’t keep em down. The only way to neutralise them is to sever their heads. A head-shot with a Raufoss will do it, if you don’t have the ammo a standard .50 cal round will work. Either way these Talibs are highly dangerous, hard to kill.” Black’s voice trailed off as his vision blurred once more. He was brought back to the present by Hakim, who now stood and cleared his throat before speaking. Black translated a beat behind.

  “These things murdered my family, my men and yours. They have the strength of many men. They are not human, they are animals. You must put them down. If you get near enough use your blade, cut the throat and then keep on cutting. Or even better make them eat a grenade. If all else fails get them into direct sunlight. ”

  “What are these friggin things vampires?” The remark caused some sniggers and came from Hank Albrecht, team leader of the second Delta team.

  “Yes.” Black stared back at the heckler.

  “What? Ah, you ain’t serious?”

  Ibanescu took over again. “Yeah I know, this all sounds like junior high ‘twilight’ bullshit but believe me if you don’t stop them they’ll stop you. German if you’d seen these things you would not be questioning anything that Peter Pan is saying.”

  “Come on, vampires really?”

  “Hey I pumped ten rounds into one of them Talibs and the mother just kept getting up.” Bones stated. “He just wouldn’t stay dead.”

  “So those bodies we saw in fire at Python were vampires?” Albrecht grimaced.

  “Vampires kill your men.” Hakim now spoke in heavily accented English. “Kill my men.”

  There was a silence. Ibanescu scanned the faces of his fellow warriors. Whatever they did or did not believe the fact was that Firebase Python had been destroyed, men had been KIA and hostages had been taken. “Now that is out of the way this is how we are going to proceed.”

  Ibanescu outlined the attack plan and after a Q&A the Deltas filed out of the hut to make their final preparations. Ibanescu put his hand on Black’s arm. “Wait. Do you want in?”

  “What?”

  “Do you want in on the Op?”

  “But Matthers said...”

  Ibanescu held up his hand to stop Black from completing his sentence. “Since when do we care what
Matthers says? He may be the current head of our SF Ops in the Sand Pit but my boss sits in an oval office. I’m pretty sure he’d want all available men in on this.”

  Hakim looked at Ibanescu and then said in English. “I want fight vampire.”

  “You must stay here. Delta only fight vampire, yes?” Ibanescu stated, trying not to sound patronising.

  Hakim’s face showed his true feeling; he swore in Pashto and walked away.

  “What did he say?”

  Black tried to keep a straight face. “Something about your mother, goats and a travelling rug salesman.”

  Ibanescu rolled his eyes. “Let’s go.”

  The rotors of two Black Hawks kicked up dust clouds, momentarily engulfing them before they broke free into the vivid blue Afghan sky. The helos banked and headed towards the coordinates which were less than thirty minutes away. As they neared their target the modified Black Hawks would be running low, fast and almost silent. Team one in Black Hawk one, was again led by Ibanescu and included Black. The second team was led by Albrecht. The target compound had been under constant surveillance from a drone since the hostages had arrived. The imagery of the two hostages being herded into the compound had now been enhanced and Matthers was able with some certainty to identify the pair as Rockbridge and Gonzalez. Styles was still unaccounted for. To further confirm the presence of the hostages a second video had been uploaded to an Islamist website and was now playing on all the major news networks. The Taliban’s demands were as ludicrous as before. A new deadline had been given, sunset. ISAF had no choice but to attack.

  “I don’t like it. It feels like we are being played.” Ibanescu shouted across the helo. “The Talibs know we are watching and that we are coming. They just ain’t afraid to die. Holy friggin warriors, we slot em they get to be molested by virgins. They slot us they become heroes. But what if they can’t die?”

  “They molest each other.” Hicks joined in.

  Ibanescu shook his head. “That is not a film I’ll be watching, unlike Matthers.”

  “Gypsy, you know what we’re up against and why we couldn’t tell Matthers or anyone else.”

  “Yep. Blue sky is on our side? Shit man, it don’t feel right assaulting in daylight.”

  At his control centre in Camp Bastion Matthers had been unexpectedly joined by a US General who’d suddenly appeared in country and commandeered an office at Camp Leatherneck, the American part of the base. An RQ-170 Sentinel was circling above the target compound. They watched the live feed from the drone based at the Aerial Vehicle Centre at Kandahar air field. As the afternoon sun burnt the scrub around the compound it was silent and looked deserted, but ISAF knew it wasn’t. Destroying the complex would be an easy matter, a couple of Hellfire missiles launched from above, but with the world watching ISAF could ill afford to lose any more Americans hostages. Delta was going in and the drone would provide over-watch.

  “Any idea what the glitch was?” Matthers asked the technician via a secure link who was monitoring the drone’s systems.

  “No sir. All systems are and were fully operational.”

  “What glitch?” General Hudson questioned.

  Matthers answered. “The infrared sensors seemed to not be working. When the Taliban arrived with the hostages we could only make out two human heat signatures.”

  “Is that an issue?” Hudson asked curtly.

  “Not in daylight sir, just strange that the Taliban should shield themselves.”

  “You said that they were wearing ballistic vests, well it looks like they are wise to our surveillance techniques too.”

  Matthers wasn’t convinced but decided to keep quiet.

  “Movement.” The voice of the pilot, who remotely guided the drone from a glorified shipping container, was casual if slightly tinny. The high definition video feed showed a group of three men exit the main building. One was carrying an assault rifle whilst the other two manhandled a tripod mounted PKM. They climbed onto the roof and took up defensive positions.

  “Give me the word and they vanish.” The weapons officer added.

  “Negative. ‘Hot Blood’ will engage.” Matthers replied giving the call-sign of the USAF Apache providing fire support.

  “What’s the ETA on Deltas one and two?” Hudson grunted.

  “They are Five minutes out, sir”

  “Good.”

  The control room became focussed for the imminent attack. A USAF Apache attack helicopter popped up over the ridgeline then flared slightly as it fired 0.50cal Raufoss rounds into the Taliban crew manning the PKM. The Afghans disintegrated before they had time to react and then the roof of the compound’s largest building collapsed. The threat from building #3 had been eliminated.

  Black Hawk one swooped in, its doors slid open and high tensile lines fell away.

  “Go…Go…Go…” The command signal hissed over the comms network.

  Milliseconds later Black and the other members of Delta Force fast roped into position at building #1. The feed from the drone still said that the hut was empty save for the two Americans. Almost simultaneously Black Hawk two disgorged its team into the compound to form a perimeter and neutralise any incoming fire from building #2. Black was at the front of the snake of Deltas, who stood weapons ready in the dead-ground at the side of building #1. Black took a deep breath, turned the corner and then shoulder barged the door. It gave way under him and he crashed into the room. In less than a second his eyes had adjusted to the gloom and he saw Rockbridge and Gonzalez hog tied in the furthest corner. As he swung his HK in an arc to clear the room he was thrown sideways. Black sailed across the room and landed hard, dropping his HK 416. The air was knocked out of him but before he could register this fact a boot connected with his jaw lifting him clear off the ground and flinging him back against the wall. This time his head hit hard and even though he was wearing a helmet it jarred. Even with blurred vision he recognised the figure advancing towards him. Styles swung his right arm at Black’s throat, his commando knife slashed deep into Black’s skin. The unnatural speed with which Styles had attacked, took the Deltas by surprise and it was only now as Styles readied for another swing that Ibanescu and Hicks opened fire. Styles convulsed wildly as numerous rounds slammed into him. Black collapsed as blood surged from a severed vein. He and Styles both hit the floor at the same time, only to rise moments later. Black clamped his hand to his neck and could feel the hole in his throat close as he clambered to his feet.

  “Peter Pan, you hit?” Ibanescu yelled but before he could move nearer a hidden trapdoor opened and vampires sprang into the room from an underground chamber. The unmistakable bark of their AK’s sprayed rounds into the doorway.

  Black saw Ibanescu fall and get dragged backwards into the daylight as the Delta team were forced to retreat. Black grabbed for the Makarov given to him by Krasnov and fired a double tap into the nearest vamp. The Talib-vamp fell with a look of confusion on its face as the home-made ammunition tore through it. Before Black could exchange any more rounds there was an explosion and then daylight blasted into the hut as an exterior wall gave way. Two flashbangs sailed in through the opening further disorientating the vampires who momentarily cowered. The Deltas surged back into the hut, rounds spraying the vampires, grabbed the hostages and dragged them out. As the remaining vampires gave chase into the daylight one immediately burst into flames.

  Outside a fire-fight raged. A concerto of gunfire as Talibs now also swarmed out of building #2 firing wildly. Like a plague of rats they advanced upon the American perimeter.

  Inside in the half-darkness of the hut there was an unnatural silence.

  Styles rose to his knees. “So you are one of us?”

  “Why Marv?”

  “Because I can!”

  Styles lunged at Black with his blade, eyes red. Black lashed out with his foot, knocking Styles back and buying a couple of seconds as the knife caught his thigh a glancing blow. Black turned his Makarov on Styles and pulled the trigger. A silver jacketed
round hit him in the chest. Styles shook as blood seeped from his mouth. He dropped the knife and stumbled. Styles put his hand on his chest and then looked at it. He scrabbled away and tried to steady himself.

  “Blood…I don’t understand…it’s not healing.”

  “Silver jacketed rounds.”

  Styles locked eyes again with Black. For a moment both men seemed to sense their history, their friendship and the brotherly bond they had once shared and then Styles screamed and ran at Black. The second round opened up a hole in the middle of his forehead. This time Minute Man was dead before he hit the floor, permanently.

  Black stumbled backwards. He had killed a man who yesterday had been his friend. If Minute Man had been turned how many of the other Deltas were now vampires? As he collected his HK he felt dizzy, his neck wound had caused him to lose blood and with it strength. He needed to feed, the blood-lust took over and any thoughts of remorse or pity vanished. Black crouched next to Styles’ cadaver, sunk his teeth into his neck and fed. He felt his strength return and then he felt something else, he felt invincible. It had only been a matter of seconds but he had been renewed. Black exited the hut. The surreal panorama around him made him freeze. Team two’s perimeter had just held, past this he could see Talibs burning and stumbling whilst others mindlessly charged headlong onto the incoming fire. The Deltas were keeping the vampires at bay but the lack of Raufoss rounds in anything but the .50 cal weapons meant that they continued to come. It looked like a scene from ‘The Walking Dead’ or his favourite game ‘Resident Evil’ only this was real and these were vampires. Snapping back into the present, Black immediately picked off two Talibs with silver rounds before he emptied his clip into a third.

  Matthers continued to watch the feed from the drone as he saw team one hustle the hostages out of the compound to await Black Hawk one. He blinked as he saw what looked like figures on fire running around the compound as team two provided perimeter fire. Black Hawk one landed and then as soon as it was wheels up the pilot spoke over the net. “Hostages are secure. Repeat hostages are secure. Over.”