Exfiltration

by Jillian Anselmi

  We get back to the safe house without incident. The five SEALs are standing over the table, with Noah mixed into the fray. They’re looking over something in the center. “Cap, this just came in,” Spencer announces, pointing to a stack of blueprints.

  “Where did these come from?” he asks, scratching his head.

  “They were dropped off,” Perry explains, “with the message, ‘you owe me one.’” Dalton chuckles, shaking his head. Approaching the group, he squeezes in between Spencer and Brock, looking over the diagrams. I follow, pushing my way past Noah.

  “Cap, it looks like we can enter the back side, assuming we can get around any guards they have outside,” Buckley mentions, pointing to the door at the back.

  “We saw six, but dollars to donuts they’ll be more there tonight,” Dalton divulges as he scans the papers. While they discuss entrance strategies, my Sat phone rings.

  “This is Witt,” I answer, moving away from the table.

  “Deloris, it’s Tom. I’m sending you the latest satellite view,” he says as a sheet of paper begins to spit out of a machine. “You should be getting it now. It’s forty-four minutes behind, but it should give you a better view of the inside.”

  “Dalton,” I call out as I walk toward the fax. He lifts his head, and I wave him over. “Thanks, Tom,” I murmur as I look over the satellite photo.

  “Deloris, be careful,” he insists, then hangs up.

  I hand the photo to Dalton. It takes him a second to realize what he’s looking at. “Where did you get this?” he asks, smiling.

  “I have connections too, you know,” I say with a wink.

  “What’s the timeframe on this?” he asks, slapping it down on the table next to the blueprints and maps.

  “Forty-four minutes,” I answer.

  “Okay,” he says to his team. “This was taken about an hour ago. I count seven bodies,” he says, pointing to the round, dark spots inside the building.

  “They all seem to be on the east side of the compound,” Miller comments. “Maybe this won’t be that complicated.”

  “Now, now, what’s the SEAL motto?” Spencer asks Miller, but they all join in unison.

  “The only easy day was yesterday!”

  “That’s right!” Spencer shouts.

  “Okay. So, it seems Savior is being held here,” Dalton says, comparing the location of the satellite with the blueprints. “It’s hard to tell what floor she’s on, but I think the easy way to go in at this point would be the back entrance. It’s closer to the stairs.” He draws an imaginary line with his fingers, tracing the path. “Spence, I already chose a spot for you to roost. It has perfect sight,” he says, pointing to a spot on the map.

  “Roger that,” Spencer agrees.

  They continue discussing strategies, including back-ups in case something goes sideways. They’re all in agreement, though, that Noah and I stay with Miller—no matter what happens.

  August 10th, 1999

  JUST AFTER MIDNIGHT, THE TEAM starts double checking their equipment. I pick through my go-bag, glad I remembered to pack civilian clothes. It’s nice to be able to change from the Afghani clothing into something more comfortable. Over my tank top, I secure my Kevlar vest. Noah enters as I finish changing.

  “You sure you want to do this?” he asks.

  “Why would you ask me that?” I snap.

  “It’s just . . .”

  “Stop. Just, stop,” I argue, putting up my hands. “This is exactly why I don’t want to get involved with you.” Sighing, I sit on the edge of the cot. “It’s my job. It’s what I love to do.”

  He stares at me for a minute, not saying a word. His eyelids droop as his face sags. “I know,” he admits, sitting down next to me. “And maybe you’re right.”

  “Right about what?” I ask, not sure what he’s referring to.

  “Not wanting to get involved.” Running his hands through his hair, he says, “I have no right to tell you not to go. Still, I wish you’d stay here.”

  “That’s not gonna happen,” I confess. “My job is to bring Kimberly back safe, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” I place my hand on his cheek, holding it there while I search his eyes. As much as I know it’s the right thing to do, my heart breaks knowing I’m hurting him.

  He shakes me off, then backs up. “Let’s just get this over with, shall we?” he mutters, then walks away. I can’t have this hanging over my conscious now. There are more important things to worry about. I push it to the back of my mind. Right now, I need to focus.

  I’ll deal with Noah when we get back with Kimberly.

  Alive.

  Everyone’s quiet as we gear up. Noah and I aren’t as equipped as the SEALs are, but at least I don’t have to wear that nasty polyester outfit anymore.

  All of us have on night vision goggles and are equipped with microphones and earbuds for communication.

  All transmissions go back to the command center on the C-17.

  Listening in is Lieutenant Commander Bradburn.

  There are two Humvee vehicles for us to get close to the target. I’m with Dalton, Miller, and Brock with Storm, Noah is with Spencer, Perry and Buckley. We start to make our approach just after one in the morning.

  I scratch Storm’s ears as we head toward our target.

  “TOC, this is Alpha one. We’re on the move. How, copy?” Dalton says over the comm.

  “Alpha one, this is TOC. Good, copy,” Bradburn replies. His voice is higher than I would have thought for a commander.

  “Any activity in town?” Dalton asks.

  “We’re not picking up any chatter,” he divulges. “And the Afghan Northern Alliance’s bombings are keeping the enemy pinned down.”

  “Good. So far, the artillery shelling have stayed to our north,” Dalton informs TOC.

  “That’s affirmative. Should stay that way until oh-four-hundred,” Bradburn answers.

  “Dalton, out,” he advises, then clicks off. “How much farther?” he asks Miller, who’s driving.

  “Two more blocks,” he informs us. “After that, it’s too risky.”

  Miller pulls down a dark, narrow street and parks the Humvee behind a building. Perry, who’s driving the other car, parks ahead of us.

  After grabbing any equipment we’ll need for the raid, we begin to creep toward the compound. Brock and Storm have the lead, with Miller and Buckley behind. Noah and I are sandwiched between Buckley and Spencer, followed by Perry and Dalton. I know it’s for our protection, but it’s sad that Storm has to go first. The fact that we need a bomb sniffing dog at all is not lost on me.

  Artillery shells explode off in the distance, and the dark sky lights up.

  “I don’t know, Cap,” Miller murmurs. “Those shells sound awfully close.”

  “Yean, I—” Before Dalton can finish, a rumble comes from above us. “Incoming!” he screams, and dives to the dirt. Covering my head, I throw myself to the ground. Within seconds, the building in front of us explodes, rock and debris raining down on us. Simultaneously, another building is hit to our right. Dust and rubble fly through the air, pelting the ground like large hail stones.

  “You all right?” Noah shouts over the noise, crawling toward me.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I whisper as I crawl to my knees. Adrenaline flows through my veins like liquid fire, my body boiling. I’ve been in way too many life-threatening circumstances for me to count, but I’ve always seen my opponent coming. I don’t like the unknown. This scares the shit out of me—and that takes a lot.

  Dalton springs up to a crouch, concentrating for any more screaming shells. He waits a minute, his head tilted with his ear to the sky and his eyes closed. When he’s convinced we’re safe, he stands. “Welcome to Kabul,” he grunts.

  “Christ, that was close,” Perry snaps, shaking the dust off his vest.

  “Yeah, too close,” Spencer mutters, shaking his head. “So much for keeping the shells away from our position.”

  Dalton chuckles un
der his breath. “Afghani military and shooting straight don’t always go hand in hand.”

  “True that,” Perry agrees as he checks his gear.

  Once everyone’s vertical, we huddle together. “Okay,” Dalton whispers over the booming. “Comms on. Spencer, you’ll take up roost at the top of that building,” he says, pointing to the rooftop we found yesterday.

  “I’m on it,” he says, and breaks off from the group in a jog.

  “Let’s get this thing done,” Dalton says, moving forward.

  Our night vision goggles are on as we make our way through the dark.

  Miller and Buckley move together, guns up and in the ready position. If one looks forward, the other is looking backward. They rotate taking the lead, one in first, then the other. It’s like watching two men dance around each other. It’s amazing to see how well they know each other.

  “Two, this is One. Let me know when you’re set for overwatch,” Dalton murmurs into the comm.

  “Alpha one, making my way to the rooftop across the street,” an out-of-breath Spencer replies. “I’ll be in position in less than three mikes.”

  “Copy, Two,” Dalton answers. “Let’s just hole up here for a second,” he tells the rest of the group.

  “Mikes?” I ask Buckley.

  “Yeah. It’s military speak for minutes,” he chuckles.

  “Then just say minutes,” Noah mutters. His comm is off, but I’m close enough to hear his rude comment.

  Brock is about fifty feet ahead of us with a view of the compound. Without warning, he places his arm up, his hand in a fist. Everyone stands frozen and silent. Brock peeks around the corner of the building covering him. He holds up two fingers, then takes his index finger and thumb, making the shape of a gun, and holds it high in the air.

  We studied swat team hand signals at the Farm, so I understand what’s being said.

  Two people.

  Both have rifles.

  My guess is they’re carrying either AR-15’s or AK-47’s.

  “Shit,” Dalton mutters.

  “Alpha two, this is Alpha one. How long ‘til overwatch is set?” Dalton asks Spencer over the comm. “We have a couple night crawlers out here who could end our mission before it starts.” The whistle of shells flying through the air gets closer again, the noise becoming louder.

  “Alpha one, this is Two. Give me thirty seconds. I’m on it,” Spencer huffs.

  We move to edge in closer, but stay far enough out of the insurgent’s line of sight to be comfortable.

  Less than a minute later, he says, “Alpha one, this is Two. I have eyes on your position.”

  “You seeing what I’m seeing?” Dalton whispers.

  “Affirmative. We have a couple midnight strollers just outside the target area,” he murmurs. “Gonna make a path for you.”

  Dalton moves closer to Noah and me. “You two stick to Miller. You copy?” he cautions.

  “Yeah,” we both reply.

  Standing on the side of the building, I glance around the corner. The insurgent has his eyes on something and motions in our direction to his buddy. Shit. I think they know we’re here. As he lifts his rifle and aims in our position, two shots strike him in the chest. They pass through his body and hit the person standing behind him. Both armed men drop likes stones.

  “You’re good to go,” Spencer informs us.

  “Move to target,” Dalton says to the rest of the team.

  Guns drawn, they slowly make their way to the compound. Noah and I stay behind Miller, moving when he does.

  “Alpha one, this is Two. We’ve got company,” Spencer says into the comm.

  “What do you see?” Dalton demands. Before Spencer has a chance to answer, a pickup truck arrives. Two men exit, walking straight for the entrance of the compound. Another two men appear from the shadows following the first two.

  “What the fuck?” Perry blurts.

  “Alpha two, can you take them out?” Dalton says as he moves into a position to intercept.

  “Negative. They’ve moved out of my sight.”

  “Buckley, with me,” Dalton growls as he moves in closer, taking aim. “Alpha two, take out the two men at the gate on my mark.”

  “I’m in position,” Spencer informs us.

  “Three . . . two . . . one!” Dalton and Buckley fire, dropping two of the four men. I was expecting an ear-splitting explosion like most assault rifles make, but this sounded more like a muffled, discreet thump.

  Spencer hits both of the guards. The remaining two men try to flee, but before they get far, they hit the ground.

  “Let’s hope no one on the inside heard the shootout at the OK corral,” Dalton quips.

  “Alpha one, you’re clear,” Spencer informs us.

  Moving in a two by two formation, with the exception of Buckley, the SEALs breech the gate and we move to the back side of the compound.

  “Alpha two, what do you see?” Dalton asks Spencer, panting.

  “Thermal shows four hostiles on the bottom floor, toward the front, and four on the third floor. Same area we observed earlier. One body is in a sitting position, the other three are standing throughout the room.”

  Kimberly.

  “Okay,” Dalton breathes. “Perry and I will take the bottom floor, the rest of you will take the third. My guess is Savior is upstairs.”

  “I agree,” I concur.

  “Success of the rescue operation relies on surprise, speed, and aggressive action. Don’t be foolish,” Dalton warns his team. “TOC, this is Alpha one. We’ve reached the compound and are in position. Breeching now,” he tells the command center.

  “Alpha one, this is TOC. Affirmative. Procced with extreme caution,” Bradburn answers.

  “Watch your sixes,” Dalton tells Miller and Brock.

  He studies the door, making sure it isn’t boobytrapped. When he’s satisfied, he tries to open it.

  The door swings open. “Guess we just got lucky,” he whispers, raising his gun.

  Dalton and Perry disappear down a hallway as we hike up the stairs. Traveling behind Miller, my gun is drawn and ready for any signs of an ambush. Spencer has his thermal eyes on the building and will notify us if anyone moves.

  We reach the third floor without incident. “Should we use a draw?” I ask, worried they may shoot Kimberly if we don’t get the complete element of surprise.

  “Nope. We have the element of surprise. We bust in like Rambo and start shooting,” Miller advises.

  “Just don’t shoot Kimberly,” I beg.

  “Alpha two, this is Alpha three,” Miller says into the comm. “What’s the positions of the hostiles?”

  “Two hostiles to your right and one standing next to Savior just to her left,” Spencer informs us.

  “Okay. You two stay out here,” Miller says to Noah and me, then turns to Brock. “I’ll take the left.” Brock nods. Using his fingers, Miller counts to three, then breaches the door.

  A flurry of gunshots and shouts echo around the small space.

  My body twitches with each bang.

  My heart pounds with every muffled scream.

  Thuds of bodies against walls cause goosebumps to form on the back of my neck.

  But I stay strong.

  Standing on the outside unable to look in is killing me. I need to help. I can’t stay out in the hall any longer and disobey orders. Drawing my weapon, I burst through the door and scan the room. At my feet, I find one of the hostiles shot dead. Miller’s checking behind another door, and Brock and Storm have the second pinned against the wall.

  The third lays along the wall injured, stretching for a grenade just out of reach. Taking aim, I shoot him between the eyes before he has a chance to do anything stupid.

  It’s then I see Kimberly.

  She’s gagged and bound to a chair.

  “I thought I told you to stay outside!” Miller shouts, crossing the room toward me.

  “If I had, you’d all be dead!” I snap back.

  “You
could have been killed,” Noah shouts from behind me.

  I spin toward his voice. “I’m fine! Now, help me untie her!” Taking the gag out of her mouth, I ask, “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

  “Deloris, thank God it’s you,” she says, her voice raspy. Once she’s untied, I look her over. She’s battered and bruised, but nothing’s broken.

  Miller does a quick assessment of the room. It’s full of assault rifles and other weapons. After making sure all the explosives and grenades are safe and no pins had been pulled, Miller breathes a sigh of relief. “We’re clear.”

  “Can you stand?” Brock asks Kimberly.

  “I think so,” she answers, leaning forward in the chair. Placing her hand on my extended arm, she pushes herself up and horizontal. “How did you know I was here?” she groans, biting her lip as she takes weight off her right foot. Brock puts his forearm under her armpit to steady her.

  “That’s a story for another day. Right now, we need to get the hell out of here before reinforcements arrive,” Noah says.

  “Alpha one, this is Alpha three. We have Savior,” Miller informs the team over the comm.

  “Alpha three, this is One. Continue to the rendezvous point.”

  “Let’s go,” Miller says.

  The rendezvous point is an alley a block over in between the compound and where Spencer is set up.

  Being just as cautions as we were on the way in, Brock and Storm lead us out. Miller and I are on either side of Kimberly, helping her navigate the stairs with her injured foot while Noah watches our sixes.

  We get outside and maneuver around the compound. The six insurgents are still where we left them, and there haven’t been any other hostiles. “Alpha two, this is Alpha three. Are we clear?” Miller asks Spencer.

  “Alpha three, this is Two. Smooth sailing to the rendezvous point,” Spencer informs us.

  Within five minutes, we’re safe in the alley. “Alpha three, this is Two. I have eyes on your position.”

  Now that Kimberly’s in our possession, my anxiety begins to wane. Now, we wait for Dalton and his team to return.

  They should have followed us out almost immediately.