Bunker: Boxed Set (Books 4 and 5)

by Jay J. Falconer

  “So I take it, something went wrong?”

  “You could say that. This CIA spook, who went by the name of Flapper, shows up and takes charge from the Major. We all fall in line under the new chain of command and wait for the order to deploy. Everything’s good at this point. I had my fallback plan all worked out, so I was ready to do my part for brother and country. While the breach team went in, I went to work getting the explosives set up, with Flapper overseeing everything. That should have been my first clue, but of course, I was a good Marine who kept his head down and focused on his job. Too well, as it turned out.”

  “Jesus, what the hell happened?”

  “Flapper happened. Apparently, the mission objectives weren’t exactly what I was told. We were there to negotiate a major drug deal with the local cartel. Millions in cash type thing. However, the warlord decided to keep the money and the drugs, then opened fire. It was a shit storm of biblical proportions. Our team came out hot and I covered their egress, setting off charges and killing everyone in pursuit. And I mean everyone. Total devastation.”

  “So the drug deal aspect . . . is why you left the military?”

  “That’s part of it, but let me finish. When the smoke cleared, we went in to identify some of the bodies to verify if any of them were on the Terrorist Most Wanted List. Of course, none of them were. At least the parts we could find. That’s when reality smacked me in the face. The chase vehicles were filled with kids. Dozens of them. We’re talking six, seven, eight years old. There were bits and pieces of them everywhere. All because of me.”

  Apollo was stunned, yet he said nothing. He didn’t have the words. His mind filled with a string of bloody visuals as Bunker continued.

  “Turns out, that warlord wasn’t a terrorist at all. He was just some lowlife motherfucker who was famous for using kids as human shields. And Flapper knew it, which is why he ordered me to detonate heavy. He expected it and wanted me to send a message that he’d kill everyone, even kids, if you double-crossed him. When I confronted him about it, he just laughed, like it was no big deal.”

  “My God,” Apollo said, feeling the guilt oozing out of Bunker’s pores.

  “All those children, Sheriff! Dead because of me! Then Flapper had the nerve to thank me for a job well done. Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “I can’t even imagine.”

  “Had I known there was even the slightest chance of kids being in those chase vehicles, I never would’ve agreed to the mission.”

  “I take it that’s when you walked away?”

  “Well, not exactly. A few days later, when my tour was up, I hopped a ride on a C-130 out of Kabul to Bagram, then got stuffed into a chartered 747 with a few hundred jarheads heading in the same direction.”

  “A few hundred? That had to be an interesting flight.”

  “I’m not sure interesting is the right term, but trust me, every Marine remembers their final trip home. Unfortunately, I would remember mine for a completely different reason,” Bunker said, pausing. “Anyway, we left Bagram and landed in Munich, where we needed to change crews and refuel. So there were a few hours to kill. As I’m sure you can guess, most of us headed to one of the dozen bars in the area. Now keep in mind, I was still trying to figure out what I was going to do, if anything, about the massacre. I had to be careful, though, because if the orders had come directly from the President, like I was told, then I was totally fucked if I said anything.”

  “What did you decide to do?”

  “The only thing I could do at that point—drown my sorrows in a case of beer. A group of us swarmed this hole in the wall and I took a seat at the end of the bar, planning to sit there and numb the pain. About an hour later, it all changed when Flapper came wandering in to meet up with some of his friends.”

  “Did he see you?”

  “Nah. The place was packed. He was too busy with his buds to notice me. Since none of his pals were in uniform, I figured they must have been more undercover spooks like him. I sat there and watched him for over an hour as he pounded shots with the some of the local talent, trying to get his dick wet.”

  “I’ll bet you were fuming.”

  “That’s an understatement. When Flapper stumbled out back to take a leak in the alley, that’s when I decided to get off my ass and go have a chat with the asshole.”

  “In the alley?”

  Bunker nodded before more words arrived. “Like I said, the place was a total dive. Only one of the urinals worked, so the line for the head was a mile long. Some of the guys didn’t want to wait and went out back to piss, like Flapper, which turned out to be my opportunity. His pals were busy getting hammered, so they didn’t notice me following him outside. After I made sure we were alone, I approached him.”

  Apollo figured Bunker pummeled the guy, just like he would’ve done. “And?”

  “He was still tapping a kidney when I took my knife and gutted him like a fish. I started with his balls and ended with his neck, enjoying every second of it. While he was bleeding out, I laughed in his face just like he did when I confronted him about the kids. At that moment, I thought I’d finally found peace, but of course it didn’t last. Not when the ghosts have a key to your soul.”

  “Holy shit,” Apollo mumbled, wondering what he would have done in the same situation. He didn’t want to judge Bunker, as a civilian or as a lawman. Not when he didn’t have a frame of reference to understand what it was like over there. Everyone knows war is far from perfect. Those who serve do what they need to do to survive, even in the back alley of a Munich bar. “Well, all I can say is Flapper had it coming. End of story. Those deaths were on his hands, not yours. I don’t think anyone would blame you.”

  Bunker shrugged, not looking convinced.

  “What about the investigation?” Apollo asked. “Someone had to notice the body.”

  “I’m sure they did, but we were long gone by then. You gotta remember, when they ship us stateside like that, it’s basically a cattle car service. They don’t track who’s on what plane or hand out tickets. It’s as close to anonymous air travel as you can get.”

  Apollo nodded. “Not much of a trail to follow.”

  “Roger that. Hell, they don’t even bother with a head count before they take off again, because they know there isn’t a grunt alive who would ever miss that connecting flight home. Plus, everyone’s drunk off their ass, so it’s a cluster-fuck anyway. But the brass doesn’t care. There’s plenty of time to sober up before landing in New York.”

  “So, that was the end of it?”

  “Yeah, I sat in my seat and didn’t say another word until I made it all the way back to Camp Pendleton. Then I was done.”

  “At least justice was served for those kids.”

  “Except for one problem. I was still alive—the butcher of children—walking around free. In the end, Sheriff, I killed those kids. No two ways about it. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t hold down a job. I hated myself and everything this country stood for. That’s when I found The Kindred. They took me in and gave me an outlet for my rage.”

  Apollo exhaled, his mind taking in all the new facts. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he turned to the first question that popped into his brain. “What ever happened with the Army Major?”

  “Never saw him again. He’s still out there. Somewhere. Probably a General by now.”

  CHAPTER 46

  Sometime later . . .

  Bunker gave the AR-10 rifle to Rusty after engaging the safety. “Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not too late to head back to camp.”

  “I am. I’m ready.”

  Bunker wasn’t keen on the idea, but he needed to let Rusty make his own decisions, even though he was the Mayor’s grandson. When it comes to combat, who you are doesn’t matter. It’s what you’re made of inside that counts.

  Young men his age enlist every day, looking to find their place in the world. Some join up as a challenge or to pay for college; others do so out of a sense of duty. Regardle
ss of the reason, Rusty had to be the one to make the call.

  “I can do this,” Rusty said, sounding as though he were trying to convince Bunker of his manhood.

  “All right, then. Rule number one: you follow orders. And by that, I mean you do whatever Dicky and Burt tell you. Without question. They have more experience than you. They’ll help keep you safe.”

  “I thought you were in charge?”

  Bunker pointed at the trench. “I’ll be busy down there, so you need to follow the chain of command. Otherwise, you need to head back to camp. So what’s it going to be, Rusty?”

  “I’ll do what they say. I promise.”

  Bunker was both pleased and disappointed by the answer. Pleased that this kid had the stones to join the fight, but disappointed Rusty wasn’t already in the saddle, heading for safety. “Pay attention closely. I’ve sighted this in for you based on the center of the clearing.”

  Rusty took the weapon in his hands. The excitement in his eyes was only matched by the nervousness oozing from his pores.

  Bunker remembered the feeling well, his brain scrambling to maintain control of his body the first time he prepared for combat. “When you’re ready to fire, be sure to disengage the safety and adjust for distance. And to do that—”

  “—I use the marks on the crosshairs,” Rusty said before Bunker could finish his sentence. “Just like when Grandpa and I were out hunting. He showed me how to do it when I was like twelve.”

  “Those are called mils. But yes, just like when you’re hunting. If the target is beyond the center, you aim higher with the reticle. If it’s closer, you aim lower. I’d suggest keeping it simple with two aim points: the enemy’s forehead or his nuts. Then you’ll hit somewhere near center mass, depending on which distance adjustment you need.”

  “Okay, I can do that.”

  “Most of them will be along the front to start, so aim for their balls. Remember to breathe and control your fire. This isn’t like a bolt-action 30-06. This is a semi-automatic, so that means—”

  “One round each time I pull the trigger.”

  “Exactly. With twenty rounds in the magazine,” Bunker said, realizing Rusty wasn’t as green as he first thought. He didn’t want to insult the kid’s intelligence, but needed to make sure the new recruit was prepared. Better to oversimplify than to leave something out. That’s how young men find themselves on the ‘X’.

  “You know how to change these, right?” Bunker asked, holding up one of the eleven magazines sitting next to Rusty on a small, flat rock. He wanted to give the kid a bigger stack, but he needed to split the rest of the 7.62 magazines equally with the other snipers.

  Rusty pointed at the side of the weapon. “Just press this release and then pop in a new one.”

  “That’s correct. There’ll be a lot going on, but if you keep your shit together and focus on each target, you’ll be okay. Just remember which one is me, okay?”

  Rusty nodded. “You’ll be the man without a uniform.”

  “Roger that. If you see me, aim somewhere else. Just wait for the targets to wander out of the smoke cloud.”

  “What if they try to come up here?”

  “They won’t. It’ll be complete chaos down there after Albert’s Bufotoxin takes away their eyesight.”

  “That’s the milky white stuff he took from all those toads, right?”

  “Part of it. The rest is a little magic known as chemistry.”

  “Albert really seems to get off on all that chemistry stuff.”

  “Lucky for us, he’s damn good at it. Otherwise, I don’t where we’d be right now.”

  Rusty turned his focus lower, staring at his shoes. “Maybe I should have done more studying in high school. I’d be more use right now.”

  Bunker realized he’d played right into the pity party taking control of Rusty. Negative thoughts were that last thing the kid needed, especially when they were wrapped inside a cocoon of self-doubt. A redirect was needed. Something a little more uplifting. “We all have our gifts, Rusty. From what I hear, yours is that racing bike. I don’t know how you do it. That takes a lot of dedication and some long, hard hours on the road.”

  Rusty shrugged, his tone turning cynical. “Like that’s worth anything anymore. It’s not like there’s ever going to be another Olympics. Talk about a waste of time.”

  “We don’t know that, Rusty. Things could be a lot different out there, versus here.”

  “Still, my gifts, as you call them, are pretty useless.”

  Bunker could see the pain oozing from the kid’s pores. He figured the pity patrol had just showed up to cover up his nervousness—a smoke screen, if you will. Bunker had seen it before. Countless times. Everyone reacts differently when preparing for a deadly showdown. Panic and fear are never easy to control, but it is possible to smooth out the rough spots and remain focused. It starts with leadership—Bunker’s leadership. Those in charge must figure out what motivates each person under their command, then use it to help them find their confidence.

  Confidence alone can keep a person alive, even more so than a loaded assault rifle. In fact, all the weapons and all the training are useless without confidence. “You did a fabulous job today with those toe-poppers. It took a lot of guts and smarts. Most men would have walked away, but you stepped up. That shows me what you’re made of. You should be proud of yourself. I know I am.”

  Rusty didn’t respond, looking as though the pep talk was failing to rally his spirits.

  Bunker decided to try a different strategy. “Rusty, you may not believe this now. But as you get older, you’ll learn that everyone second-guesses themselves. It’s human nature, especially after the fact. Like they say, hindsight is 20/20. Everyone wishes they could go back and do things differently.”

  “Yeah, but you know how to fight and do all that bomb stuff. All I know is how to take a corner in a race so you don’t get tangled with the racer next to you.”

  “Look, I may not be the smartest man. Hell, I may not even be a good man. But one thing I do know is that you can’t choose your destiny. It chooses you. I’m living proof of that. All you can do is go along for the ride and make the best decisions possible. It’s about trying to become the best version of yourself you can. Everything else is a guess.”

  Rusty brought his eyes up. “Everyone looks up to you and does what you say. Me, I’m just a nobody.”

  “Hey, that’s not true. You’re an extremely valuable member of this team. You always watch out for the boys and Megan, plus you take on the tasks nobody else will. Every squad needs a man like you. I, for one, know we wouldn’t have gotten this far without you.”

  “Thanks,” Rusty said, his tone sounding less depressed.

  “Right now, we work as a team and take care of business. Nothing else matters. But we have to do it together, and we do it one step at a time. Then we’ll worry about the rest later. Can you do that?”

  “Okay.”

  “Because success is only achieved through teamwork and dedication.”

  “And hard work.”

  “Yes, hard work brings it all together.”

  Rusty hesitated for a short minute, his face looking numb. “Can I ask you a question, Jack?”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “Do you ever get scared?”

  “Yeah. Sure. Everyone does.”

  “Really? You?”

  “Fear is your friend, Rusty. We need it. It’s what keeps us alive. But you can’t let it take over. It’ll paralyze you. That’s what I meant earlier when I said you gotta keep your shit together. When you start to feel it get out of control, take some long breaths and focus on the next thing you need to do. I won’t lie. It’s not gonna be easy, but if you don’t panic, you’ll get through this. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yeah. I think so. I get those same feelings right before every race.”

  “And you do fine, right?”

  “Usually.”

  “This is no different,”
Bunker said, glossing over the truth—at least the part of it that might get Rusty killed.

  “What if they bring tanks?” he asked, leaning over the log in front of them. He pointed at the bottom of the hillside leading to their position. “Wouldn’t take much to get up here.”

  Bunker knew they would bring tanks, but didn’t want to scare the kid. He aimed a finger at the trench they’d dug with the TNT charges. “That’s what the ditch is for.” The twenty-yard-wide channel sat a good fifty yards in front of them, running left to right across the head of the meadow. “They’ll be focused on me and the truck down there. They won’t even know you’re here until it’s too late. That’s why you guys don’t shoot until after Apollo detonates. It’s critical that you keep your head down until the charges are finished.”

  “Got it. No shooting until the charges go off,” Rusty said, his tone purposeful, almost as if he were trying to convince himself he could do it.

  “Then pick off whoever stumbles out of the smoke cloud. That’s all you need to do.” Bunker peered at the opening to the clearing, across the expanse. It was straight ahead, several hundred yards away. “The Sheriff won’t set them off until everyone is inside.”

  Rusty locked his eyes on the entrance. “Past the choke point, like you said earlier.”

  Bunker realized he was preaching a bit, much like his old man used to do. He decided to tone it down. “Exactly. The terrain in the meadow is perfect. The minute I saw it, I knew what we were going to do. As long as the enemy is focused on me and we block their retreat, it’ll be a slaughter.”

  “You really think they’ll go for it?”

  “If I were a betting man, I’d lay 10 to 1 odds that they will. When you’re luring somebody into a trap, the key is to make sure you pushed all the right buttons first. If you can blind them with emotion, they’ll take the bait. Every time. I made sure they got a good look at me in town, so I know they’ll be coming. In full force, with any luck.”