by S. M. Nolan
Thorne's in. Need somewhere to go. GPS locator. Need to move fast for aid before West shuts us down. I have coordinates for transport. Clock's ticking.
Maggie read it, handed over the GPS from her vest. Reese tapped the screen, stepped beside Maggie to show their current location. She zoomed out with a pair of fingers, swept sideways a few miles east. Reese's pen scratched as Maggie tried to make out the time-lapse between the two locations. Reese shoved the notebook into her vision. Maggie frowned.
Need to keep recon from reporting back. Has to be quick, quiet, and clean.
Maggie mouthed, “How?”
Reese retrieved the pad, scribbled two words; Kill. Stealth.
Maggie shook her head, with a harsh whisper, “I can't do that.”
Reese replied on the notepad, No choice. Stay quiet.
How are we supposed to get that close?
Thorne will cut power after dusk.
Can he?
Reese nodded, wrote a final sentence; Need Russell's trust.
26.
Alleviation
October 7th
8:10 PM
Lhasa Warehouse district
Russell awoke to Maggie sitting beside him. She placed her finger to her lips and passed him a piece of paper.
Need you to trust them. West has surveillance. Need to take it out. Thorne's going to cut power. Reese will lead. Deal with them quick and quiet.
He rubbed sleep from his eyes and the words took shape. He mouthed a reply, “When?”
She flashed five fingers. He nodded; if either of their comrades were to prove trustworthy, it was now or never.
He eased off the cot, sore and tired while Reese peered over Thorne's shoulder and his fingers beat against his keyboard. Maggie lifted her rifle from a corner of the room, offered it to Reese. She shook her head, reached for her a knife at her leg.
Maggie sighed, frustrated, and acknowledged with a nod. Reese rounded for the bathroom, beckoned her along. Russell followed. She lifted a sheet-metal panel in the wall to reveal a dozen rifles and pistols, slid a hand in for several, short cylinders. She screwed one into Maggie's rifle-barrel, then handed over one for her pistol.
They added extra ammunition to their vests. Russell watched like a hawk as Reese loaded up: giving weaponry to someone who'd all too recently tried to kill him was outside his comfort-zone. He kept the thought in the back of his mind, focused on the task at hand.
The trio returned to the main room and Reese motioned the others out, into the warehouse. They lined up beside the front-door, and she eased it open to peer into the darkness.
Thorne intoned over their radios, “One minute.”
“Move!”
The district went dark. Reese shoved the door open, clutched her radio as she sprinted to the opposite warehouses.
“Thorne, I need a heading!”
“Working on it.”
She rushed for cover on the near-side of the first warehouse, “Thorne!”
“I know.”
Russell and Maggie flattened against a wall. Reese peered around a corner. Thorne's voice crackled over the radio.
“Time's up. System's back. Third warehouse down—”
The district lit up. Reese bolted along the first warehouse toward the next. Maggie and Russell filed after her.
“I'm scrambling their comms. It won't last,” Thorne radioed.
They passed the front of the second warehouse, headed for the third.
“Forty-five seconds.”
Reese rushed the front door, threw it open. Suppressed fire crackled in bursts. The pair followed her, fanned out inside. Sub-machine guns chattered. Palettes splintered. Glass shattered. Soda and water misted the air.
Reese forced her way through the maze. Russell and Maggie advanced, downed two men attempting to rush her. Maggie crouched beside a short stack of palettes to reload. Russell hung back to cover Reese.
She leapt toward the last two men before an inner door. They fumbled to reload. She landed, swatting them down with her rifle, and sprang up to disappear through the doorway.
Maggie was on her feet. One man recovered. His weapon rose, chattered. Maggie's burst riddled his chest. Something hit her right side, knocked the wind from her. The man fell, dead.
Reese reappeared, blood dripping from a knife in her hand. She froze, eyes darting over Maggie. Russell hurried over, firing into the last man beside Reese.
Maggie's rifle fell from her hands as her knees buckled. Her vision narrowed to a hazy beam. Her hands trembled, groped for her side to come up flushed in wet crimson. Reese and Russell hurried to catch her as she fell sideways.
They fought to prop her upright. Maggie's vision blurred to black, consciousness slipping from her grasp. Reese smacked the side of her face, snapped her fingers.
“She's in shock.”
“Fuck!” Russell spat, trying to angle around her. “How bad?”
Reese ran her hands along Maggie, “I don't know.”
“H-How bad is it?”
“I don't fucking know!” She yelled, hands soaked with warmth.
“She's unconscious. We need to get her up.”
“I know that!”
“If she's in shock and unconscious—”
Reese glared, wiped sweat from her forehead and left a trail of fresh blood behind. She leaned in, examined the wound closely as it bled onto the floor around Maggie.
“We need to get out of here.” She smeared blood over her radio, “Thorne, get the truck. Bring the field kit and nuke the drives. West isn't getting shit from us.”
“What about the—”
“I need that goddamned field kit now!”
Russell desperately scanned the area for help. Reese leaned forward, righted Maggie's head with her palms. She opened Maggie's eyes. Even amid the low-light, her pupillary reflex was active, strong.
“Maggie!” No response.
She and Russell maneuvered beneath Maggie's wounded side. Blood soaked Reese's vest and shirt. They lifted her together, rushed her out to the running Humvee, and positioned Maggie in the back.
“Do you know any field triage?” Reese asked Russell.
“Not enough.”
She climbed in beside Maggie, “Drive. Take the southern highway, then head East. Don't stop for anything.”
Russell shoved Thorne into the passenger's seat, threw the truck into gear. Thorne tore open a green, metal case. Russell creamed the accelerator. Rubber burned and squealed as they sped into evening traffic.
Thorne fumbled with the case while Reese positioned Maggie across the back-seat. Russell swerved to dodge a box-truck, jostled Reese as she sliced Maggie's vest and shirt in half. She threw the vest's tattered remnants aside, crouched awkwardly between the seats.
“Thorne, call for Evac. And help me,” Reese commanded.
He clutched his radio, “Omega Evac, this Omega strike, requesting Extract from—”
With deft fingers, Reese pulled Maggie's shirt from the wound. It clung wetly, came loose in a pained spasm. Reese winced, exposed the wound.
“Repeat; Omega Evac, this is—”
“Thorne. Alcohol. Pads.”
Thorne passed a bottle and swatches of cloth over as his hands trembled. A voice echoed from the radio, “Omega Strike, this Omega Evac, requesting A-C on channel nine.”
Thorne's voice became a stream of numbers and words. Reese's hands slid to grip items, left blood behind. She poured a large amount of alcohol onto a thick cloth, swiped at the entry-wound. Even through her state Maggie screamed, instantly awake.
“Don't move, Maggie!” Reese shouted, swabbing again.
Maggie settled into a shaking fit. Her head rolled with nonsensical syllables. Russell threw the truck around corners, sprinted through busy city streets.
“I have to look at it!”
Reese leaned toward the alcohol. Blood oozed into the floor from the exit-wound. She pressed the cloth harder against Maggie.
“She needs morphine,�
�� Russell called over the engine.
Reese ignored him, kept pressure on the entry-wound as she lifted Maggie to check her back. “Thorne, light.”
He rifled through the box with one hand, keyed numbers into the GPS with the other. Light flared across the vehicle's back-seat and Reese dabbed the wound a final time, ran a bare finger over the jagged flesh. She held a cloth beside it to catch blood, examined it at nose-length. Maggie moaned as she wiped away more blood, sniffed at it.
“Give her something for the pain, Reese!” Russell demanded. She ignored him, carefully estimating the bullet's trajectory. “Reese!”
“I heard you the first time, goddamn it!”
“Then—”
A loud horn jerked Russell's head forward. He threw the truck around a car, rocketed right, onto a highway.
“Goddamn. This was lucky. This was fucking close. Any further and it would've nicked the intestine,” Reese said, compressing both sides of the wound.
“How the hell could this be luck?” Russell shouted, exasperated. Thorne passed over the GPS.
Reese took swatches of cloth from Thorne's case, divided them in two, “If it'd hit differently she'd be septic.
“How can you be sure she isn't?” Russell asked, his foot against the floorboard as he checked the device.
She pressed a new cloth against the wounds, “I can smell it—Thorne, your hands.”
He reached back, forced himself to look. His face went white. Reese tore strips of medical tape to place around the cloth.
“Evac's set to meet us two miles out,” Thorne said to keep composed.
“Get back here.” She muttered under her breath, “C'mon Molly, you're not dying on me.”
Thorne clambered awkwardly over the seat; his foot thumped Russell's head and he swore. Thorne helped position Maggie upright and sideways, her blood soaking his pants.
“Lean her forward. Keep the pressure on.”
He laid Maggie forward, worked a hand to toss a rolled cloth around her mid-section and pull it tight with Reese.
“Fork in the highway,” Russell called back.
“Pull into the median. Chopper should be close,” Thorne replied.
Reese pulled the last of the roll around Maggie, looked to Thorne, “Hold it.”
She taped the wound a final time, laid Maggie back against the seat. Her blood-soaked hand clutched her radio as the truck slid into grass and stopped with a jolt.
“Evac, this is Strike; need ETA. Copy?”
She slid out as a voice crackled over her radio, “Copy, Strike, this is Evac; looking for a marker on your L-Z.”
Russell slid out beside Reese. Distant rotors sped toward them overhead. Reese pulled the pin on a grenade, tossed it onto the road. A large plume of red smoke spewed upward.
The radio crackled again, “L-Z confirmed, Strike, taking her down.”
The helicopter beat a loud tempo toward them, invisible over the trees until it suddenly appeared at their right. It circled at an angle to descend onto the road. Reese and the others maneuvered Maggie from the back of the Humvee, carried her between them. Thorne sprinted ahead, climbed into the chopper.
“Immediate dust off!”
A pair of masked soldiers jumped out to help the others in, a third took Maggie from the inside. The group climbed in after her, the helicopter lifting off. It gained altitude and banked left, headed back the way it came.
Reese yelled over the rotors,“No one knows we're here. Strike may be compromised. Understood?”
The pilot nodded, “Yes, Ma'am.” He glanced at her side, “Are you injured?”
Fresh blood gleamed across her vest and shirt.
Thorne shouted form Maggie's side, “Steph!”
Maggie's blood seeped from the bandage around her exposed mid-section, formed a pool on her stomach.
Reese ordered the pilot, “Have a med-team standing by and a surgeon scrubbed for O-R!”
Russell's hands pressed Maggie's side as Reese re-bandaged her. He caught her solitary determination above an odd, unmistakable despair. Regardless of the past or future, in the moment, he was trusting Reese with Maggie's life.
27.
Subterfuge
October 7th
8:35 PM
Omega compound
Omega's Evac-chopper touched down atop an old hospital. The cargo-door slid open beneath still-turning rotors. White-gowned doctors and nurses rushed over with a gurney, lifted Maggie atop it, then hurried for an elevator nearby.
Reese kept pace, shouted over the fading chopper, “It's a clean wound. She's been unconscious about twenty minutes.” They filed into the elevator, Reese's words faster and quieter. “She needs IV fluids and a blood transfusion. I've given her two doses of morphine. The bullet entered the Anterior Oblique and exited the Posterior.” The elevator gave a sickening lurch. “Nothing vital was hit, but she needs surgery and blood A-SAP.” The lead doctor gave a nod. Reese's eyes trained on him, “This is priority and secret. No one knows we're here.”
The doctor shot her a curious look, “Ma'am?”
“The rest of Strike has been compromised. No one's to know of our arrival or it may put the base at risk.”
He nodded. The elevator doors opened and the medical team rushed Maggie out. They maneuvered her down a hall and through a set of swinging doors between a pair of guards.
Maggie angled around a corner and out of sight. Russell's face was empty. The doors ahead swept back and forth, but the hallway was silent. He swallowed hard, surveyed the guards.
Reese rounded with a hush, “If West gets wind of this, we'll never get out of here.”
“Couldn't we have just taken her to a hospital in Lhasa?” Thorne asked.
Reese glanced back, “We left Lhasa for a reason. With any luck, West won't know we're gone 'til it's too late.”
Russell exhaled a disparaging breath, “Leaving Maggie's a bad idea.”
Reese stiffened, “You want to do the surgery in the back of a moving Humvee?” He sighed. “Then deal with it. We need to re-outfit and Thorne needs a new workstation.” She cast him a look as he leaned against a wall, “Have you got the drives?” He patted his vest. “See what you can requisition.” He turned away. She looked back to Russell, “In the mean-time, I'll get some gear and find a way to keep West out of the loop.”
Russell crossed his arms, “What about your orders? Doesn't Omega have a file on us?”
“No one here is looking for you. They have no reason to know you. If they ask, I picked up some runners. My authority's not absolute, but it'll keep the dogs penned.”
The elevator opened in front of Thorne and the three stepped in.
“Third floor, Thorne. We're headed to the second—” She stopped him as he reached for the button, “Remember, no one knows we're here.”
He nodded, pressed buttons to launch them downward. When they opened on the next floor, Thorne gave a smart-ass bow and headed down the hall. Reese and Russell rode to the next floor in silence, emerged in a carpeted hallway decorated with polished brass and wood paneling. It felt out of place given the previous floors' sterility.
The ornate hallway passed briskly, doors at its sides bearing gold plated signs. They stopped at one with an engraved line of Chinese.
Reese shot a look to Russell, mouthed “quiet,” then knocked hard at the door. A voice beckoned them into a lavishly decorated office.
Commendations in Chinese and English hung above filled shelves and bookcases that lined the room. In its center, behind an expensive-looking desk, an officer in a green, dress-uniform sat with his cap astutely accenting his head and shading his Asian features.
Reese stepped forward with a salute, “Colonel Hun.”
“Sergeant Reese,” he said with a gruff voice. He remained seated but extended a hand, “Sit.” Reese motioned for Russell to sit as she put on a defiant air; how he knew her best. The Colonel leaned over with a stone face, “What brings you here, Sergeant?”
Reese spoke w
ith hints of hostility, “West, sir.”
The Colonel's eyebrow rose, “Continue.”
“I believe West's been compromised. If he learns of our location he may come in force with a splinter group. I have no choice but to request anonymity while we're on-base. I'm afraid he'll attempt to persuade Black into coming after us, but I need time to gather concrete evidence.”
The Colonel remained silent, considered Reese's words. He nodded to himself, leaned back, “I believe I understand. But this is a serious allegation and must be reported.”
“Yes sir, I only request you wait until we've gone. If our position's compromised now, the base may become a target.”
His brow rose again then lowered with a nod, “I understand, Sergeant.” He stood from his desk, the others followed suit. “You have your anonymity. Twenty-four hours until I report. Until then my facility and its resources are yours. Good luck, Sergeant.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Reese and Russell saluted, turned away rigidly to march back into the hall. As the door closed, Reese blew a relieved sigh. Her face fell to exhaustion.
Russell shook off an eerie feeling, “Saluting a Chinese Colonel's just weird.” She agreed with a look. “That was a helluva lot easier than I expected. Are you sure we can trust him?”
“Hun's a man of his word. Everyone knows West's just a binge short of AWOL, him most of all. He's Chinese, built with communist discipline. West has none.”
“You're really going to play them against him?”
“If I can. For now, Hun's given us time to figure out what's going on. We'll use it to patch up Maggie and get out of here.”
“Will Thorne be able to decode the books that fast?”
She shrugged, “Head back to the med-wing and find Maggie. We'll meet you there.” He turned back for the elevator. “And stay off the radio.”
He stepped inside as Reese turned a corner. When he emerged on the medical level, he found the hallway just as he'd left it. He stepped toward the masked guards and mustered his authority.
“Where'd they take her?”
The man at his left replied, “O-R. Straight ahead. Might still catch her in observation. Otherwise, she'll be in one of the rooms past that.”
