Forgotten

by J. Robert Kennedy

  Especially with the damned Russians arriving on scene.

  “Confirm with the Pentagon that the Russians have been informed we have an op ongoing in the area.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Clancy watched the four targets, marked in red, coming from the west, from Syrian government-controlled territory. His eyes moved slightly to the right, watching the green targets, two A-10s and one AC-130 over al-Raqqah, covered by F-22 Raptors, along with half a dozen Apaches and one Black Hawk inbound. “ETA on our choppers?”

  “Three minutes.”

  “And the Russians?”

  “Five.”

  “Shit! When will that second Black Hawk reach them?”

  “Not for another ten minutes, sir.”

  He cursed.

  “Sir, the Pentagon has just ordered the AC-130 to leave the area. The Syrians have just scrambled MIGs and are issuing a challenge.”

  Clancy cursed. “Fine, they did their job anyway. The A-10s?”

  “One has taken damage but the pilot is insisting she stay in the fight, sir.”

  Clancy’s chest swelled with pride in his fellow soldier. “Negative. Give her our thanks and have her report back to base. I don’t want to have to go in and rescue her if her bird fails.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He watched as the A-10 and AC-130 left the area, two F-22s leaving with them, the others repositioning to cover the remaining A-10, who by his estimate would be running out of ammo shortly if it had to provide all the cover.

  What else can go wrong?

  “Sir, we’re showing heavy enemy troop movement in the city. They’re mobilizing everything they’ve got and sending it south, toward the LZ.”

  Clancy shook his head.

  Things never go smoothly.

  “Okay, let them know they’re about to have uninvited guests. And find me a clear route out of that area.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Clancy watched all the targets, red and green, converging on the one pulsing blue light indicating the evac point, shaking his head. He pulled his cellphone, calling Red’s wife once again, it once again going straight to voicemail. He didn’t bother leaving another message. Red was alive, and that wasn’t changing—at least he hoped it wasn’t. The report was that he was weak and shot only minutes ago. If this evac didn’t go as planned, he could yet die.

  Which would make the tragedy doubly so.

  “Sir, Overwatch Flight Leader wants to know what his ROEs are. Can they engage the Russians?”

  Clancy shook his head. “Negative, fire only if fired upon. The last thing we need is this thing escalating.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Clancy turned to watch the UAV footage streaming the entire event live, the commandeered truck racing in the dark toward the landing zone, with too many people inside to be evacuated. No matter what happened, somebody was being left behind and at the mercy of the Russians and ISIS. He was reminded of something attributed to General Patton, though the general had denied saying it.

  Though if it were him on the ground, surrounded by the Russians and ISIS, he too would probably attack in both directions.

  80 |

  ISIS Held Territory Al-Raqqah, Syria

  Niner pointed ahead, a grin spreading as he spotted the lead Apaches on the horizon. “There they are!”

  Dawson poked his head through the opening. “Good. Get as close as you can to the LZ and keep it running. We’re outta here as soon as the choppers are clear.”

  “Roger that.”

  Niner pressed harder on the accelerator when the comms squawked.

  “Bravo Leader, this is Phoenix Flight Leader. We’ve got you in sight. Continue on your present course and we will intercept you in sixty seconds, over.”

  An explosion erupted to their right, Niner swerving slightly though maintaining control, the key to not wrecking, remaining calm, executing controlled, small adjustments, otherwise a beast like this transport could tip in a heartbeat. Another explosion hit in nearly the exact same spot, now behind them. “We’ve got mortars again!”

  “Just get us to that damned LZ!”

  Dawson disappeared into the back of the truck again, Niner about to make a wisecrack when the ground in front of them erupted into a massive fireball of ordnance, rock, and sand, as a round removed the road ahead. He slammed on the brakes, there no gentle maneuver getting them out of this, the truck skidding toward the gaping hole.

  “It’s gonna hurt!” He braced against the steering wheel, avoiding the urge to swerve to the left or right, any such reaction guaranteed to flip them on their side, though no matter what, this ride was over.

  The front end of the truck plunged into the hole, bringing them to a jarring stop, screams erupting from the back as the girls were sent flying toward the front. Niner spun, shouting through the opening. “Everybody out!”

  The engine blew, steam erupting from the cracked radiator blasting into the cool night air with an earsplitting hiss. He shoved his door open and jumped out, the hole only a few feet deep, but deep enough. Jimmy climbed up on the rear bumper, unlocking the doors then swinging them open. Niner joined him, scanning the horizon to the north, muzzle flashes from wasted small arms were visible in the distance, mortars still exploding around them, though not well aimed, as if they were firing blindly, though somebody had got lucky.

  Dawson hopped down. “You two make sure everyone gets out. We’ll get to the LZ on foot.”

  “Yes, Sergeant Major.” Niner reached up and helped Red down, Atlas jumping after him then scooping him into his arms.

  Dawson pointed toward the LZ, the thunder of the Black Hawk’s 53-foot rotors already making their presence felt. “That way. Get him and these kids on board.”

  “You got it!”

  Dawson turned to the few girls already on the ground, cowering in fear. He pointed at Atlas’ back. “Follow him! Go! Go!” The girls screamed, rushing after him, the sound of small arms fire growing as the enemy regrouped. Alia climbed down, then Mary, Dawson pointing at Niner. “Take them. They’re your responsibility.”

  Niner nodded, grabbing each of them by a hand. “Let’s go, girls. You don’t want to be late for your flight.”

  Dawson helped the last of the girls out, Spock dropping to the ground. “That’s the last of them.”

  “Good, get your ass to the LZ.” Dawson flipped his night vision goggles in place and scanned their six, scores of the enemy on foot now charging toward their position, vehicles kept to a minimum, airpower taking care of them whenever they dared exit the city.

  Yet the mortars were organizing, and his team wouldn’t last long if someone truly got their shit together and a bead on them.

  “Bravo Leader, this is Eagle-Eye Leader. We are out of ammo, returning to base. Good luck, over.”

  Dawson frowned, activating his comm. “Copy that, Eagle-Eye, thanks for the assist. Out.” He waved at the A-10 pilot as the plane rumbled overhead, the last of their air support gone. He sprinted toward the Black Hawk as it touched down, glancing behind him. He cursed, dozens of bouncing headlights visible as ISIS mobilized its “armor”, now that it was safe to do so.

  The massive Black Hawk bounced as it landed, two crewmembers hopping out as Atlas rushed toward the open doors, Red in his arms. “He’s one of ours. Gunshot wound to the shoulder, but he’s stable.”

  “Copy that.” The two crewmembers took Red, lifting him into the chopper then rolling in after him, working to secure the wounded warrior for takeoff.

  Atlas turned, grabbing the first young girl by the waist and hoisting her inside. One of the crew crawled over and took her. “How many?”

  “Fifteen plus him.”

  “That’s over capacity.”

  Atlas shook his head. “They’re all little girls. They’ll fit.”

  The crewmember shook his head. “Yeah, but you won’t.”

  “That’s the idea.”

  The man pointed behind Atlas. “Have you seen what’s coming for you?
”

  Atlas turned, grabbing another girl and took a look, hundreds of enemy troops running toward them, dozens of technicals already outside of the city. He handed the girl to the crewmember. “Sucks to be us, I guess.”

  Dawson reached the chopper as the last of the girls were loaded into the cabin, his team taking covering positions as the Apaches opened fire on the approaching hostiles. He stepped on the skid, the pilot turning toward him. “Get these kids out of here!”

  “Roger that, Sergeant Major. What about you guys?”

  “Don’t worry about us. We’re not actually here!”

  The pilot laughed, giving him a thumbs up. “Good luck, Sergeant Major.”

  Dawson turned to Red. “You good, buddy?”

  A weak smile and half a thumbs up were the reply.

  “Good. We’ll see you on the other side.” Dawson stepped down and the chopper rose, the girls inside waving at their saviors, two of the Apaches peeling off as escorts, the remaining four continuing to engage the enemy. Dawson took cover behind a rock and listened, a new sound approaching, a sound he recognized only too well.

  Russian Hinds.

  “Control, Zero-One. ETA on that second chopper?”

  “Five mikes.”

  “And the Russians?”

  “They’re already there, Zero-One.”

  Dawson watched as Rambo music played in his head, the ominous sounds synonymous with the appearance of a Russian Mil Mi-24 Hind, it probably the most intimidating piece of military hardware ever built.

  The Apache’s banked left, facing the new arrivals as they came to a hover only a few hundred feet away, their massive rotors hammering air at the ground, dust billowing under them.

  Niner, at a crouch, rushed over to Dawson’s position. “This is gonna get ugly!”

  Dawson nodded. All it would take was one itchy trigger finger on either side, and seven of the eight helicopters now in the air would be downed, guaranteed.

  The question would be who was the last one standing.

  And even then, Russian or American, hundreds of ISIS fighters would be on them in moments.

  One of the Russian Hinds banked to the left, the others following, then their weapons pods lit up as they rained death upon the ISIS troops heading their way. The Apaches returned to the fight, Dawson grinning as Niner slapped his back.

  “Are you seeing what I’m seeing!”

  Dawson shook his head, staring up at the sight. “I never thought I’d see the day I’d be happy that Russians were here.”

  It took only minutes, Dawson watching through his scope as the technicals were either eliminated, or those that remained turned tail, retreating to the safety of the city, the fighters on foot turning coward, no longer determined to die in the name of Allah, now that they were facing overwhelming firepower.

  It was a beautiful sight.

  And then there was silence.

  At least from a gunfire perspective, the rhythmic pulse from the choppers still overwhelming, though something he would never tire of hearing—as long as they were on his side.

  One of the Hind’s turned toward them and Dawson stood, waving his thanks. The nose dipped for a moment in acknowledgment then the massive beast banked away, the others following, disappearing into the night.

  “Bravo Team, this is Phoenix Zero-Two. ETA two mikes, over.”

  Atlas strode over as Dawson acknowledged the signal. He smiled at the massive man. “Looks like we’re gonna make it.”

  Niner grinned. “Was there ever any doubt? I’m like a good luck charm.”

  Atlas eyeballed him. “Yeah, you’re about the right size for a keychain.”

  Niner opened his mouth to reply when Spock pointed to the south. “There it is.”

  Dawson turned and sighed.

  Then smiled as the decompression began, the mission almost over.

  His friend alive.

  81 |

  Holiday Inn Express Princeton, West Virginia

  Shirley Belme bolted upright, her back protesting, missing the expensive mattress that had been a tenth anniversary gift from her parents. She looked over at the other bed, Bryson still sound asleep.

  What woke me?

  A hard rap at the door sent her heart surging, fear gripping her, there not a soul in the world who knew where she was.

  Who could that be?

  She climbed out of bed as quietly as she could, the springs creaking loudly. She grabbed her robe from the back of the chair, wrapping it around her as she tiptoed to the door. She peered through the peephole and gasped, a surge of anger rushing over her.

  Two soldiers, Army, in uniform.

  Why can’t they just leave me alone!

  She paused, her eyes narrowing.

  But there’s no way they could know you’re here!

  Were they soldiers, or men pretending to be soldiers?

  One of them knocked again. “Mrs. Belme? Are you there?”

  How could they know your name?

  It had to be legitimate.

  Did I do something wrong?

  She had to answer. “Y-yes?”

  “Ma’am, I’m Corporal Newkirk. Are you Mrs. Shirley Belme?”

  “Yes?” Her heart pounded with irrational fear. These were soldiers, not to be feared, but how did they know where she was? Who she was? She tried to think back over the past week, if there was something she had forgotten, someone she had said the wrong thing to. She came up empty. “What do you want?”

  “Can you open the door, ma’am?”

  Her instinct was to say no, then again, these were soldiers. She trusted the military, implicitly. Yet she was also a woman, alone, with a son to protect.

  If they were here to hurt you, they could easily kick down the door. Stop being a fool!

  “Just a second.” She adjusted her robe, tying it off, then glanced in the mirror, straightening her hair. She unlocked the door and removed the chain, opening the door a fraction. She peered through the crack. “Yes?”

  The soldier held up a tablet computer. “Ma’am, there’s someone who would like to talk to you.”

  Her eyes narrowed and the corporal flipped the tablet around.

  “Hi, hon!”

  She cried out, nearly ripping the door off the hinges as she lunged toward the tablet, her beloved Red on the display. He looked horrible. He looked beautiful.

  He looked alive.

  “What? What?” She didn’t know what to say. Her legs gave out, two sets of powerful hands catching her then carrying her inside, she never losing grip of the tablet, tears streaming down her face as she stared at the man she loved, so alive, so vibrant, so…there.

  “Wh-where are you?”

  “Somewhere over Turkey. I’ll be home soon. I just wanted you to know that I’m okay.”

  “Daddy!” Bryson leaped on the bed, poking his head in front of hers, staring at his father.

  “Hey, little man, have you been behaving for Mommy?”

  “No.”

  Red laughed.

  Oh, God, I missed that laugh.

  “Well, at least you’re not telling any lies. Hon, I’ll be home soon. The Colonel’s been trying to reach you. Call him and he’ll give you the details, okay?”

  “Okay.” She reached out toward his lips. “Oh, God, hon, I thought you were dead!” Sobs racked her body, sobs of sorrow, sobs of happiness, sobs of relief.

  She didn’t know how to feel.

  The life she thought was over was back, and she didn’t know how she should feel. She was happy, ecstatic, yet angry she had been put through what she had.

  Though that wasn’t his fault.

  She stared at him, her smile wide, still unable to believe what she was seeing.

  “We buried you!”

  Red laughed. “Well, dig me up, cuz’ I’m coming home!”

  82 |

  Todd Residence Queens, New York City, New York

  Bobby Todd leaned to the side, cocking an ear toward the hallway. “Did you hear somet
hing?”

  His father grunted. “Probably the neighbors upstairs again. How any two people can be that noisy, I’ll never know.”

  He heard the sound again, a gentle knock. “Someone’s at the door.”

  “Must be Tinkerbell, cuz’ I can’t hear them.”

  Bobby rose from his chair and walked down the hall, the gentle knock repeating. He peered the peephole and gasped. “Mom! Dad! Come quick!” He yanked open the door and reached out, grabbing his sister and pulling her in tight as she collapsed into his arms, sobbing. He heard his mom’s footsteps and he turned his sister toward her. His mother screamed, rushing down the hall.

  “My baby!”

  “What?” Sounds of his father struggling from his chair were followed by heavy footfalls as his mother slammed into them, hugging them both. He extricated himself, finally noticing Agents Jefferson and Lawrence standing in the hallway as his mother enveloped his sister in her arms.

  “You found her.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Jefferson.

  His mother reached out toward them. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

  His father finally reached the reunion, grabbing his little girl and picking her up off the floor, she giggling like the old days. “My little girl’s back!”

  “We’ll be going now,” said Jefferson. “Have a good day.”

  Bobby nodded, smiling at them as they turned and headed for the elevators. He closed the door, turning to his sister. “What the hell happened to you?”

  She closed her eyes, more tears erupting. “I’ll tell you everything, but right now I just want to sleep.”

  “Of course, dear, you can tell us all about it later.” His mother led her into her bedroom, leaving Bobby and his father to stare at each other in shock.

  “I can’t believe she’s home.”

  His father said nothing, his eyes red, there little doubt he was struggling to maintain control. They turned as his sister walked out, handing him the copy of the Koran they had found hidden in her room.

  “Get rid of this for me.”

  83 |