by Kate Kinsley
Every one.
I trust Achilles more than I trust most humans when it comes to hidden items.
As we walk back to the Humvees, Achilles stops short. The muscles in his large frame begin to tense, the brown fur on his back standing at attention. His tail becomes stiff, pointing backward away from the noise. A growl rises from his throat, and his lips start to curl. The glare from the sun is blinding, but there’s something here Achilles doesn’t like. He’s not known to growl for no reason.
“What is it, bubba?” I ask. “What do you see?”
He growls again, shifting to my right. His eyes are locked on a spot up the mountain.
“Does he see something?” Rorke whispers, glancing in the direction Achilles is looking.
I shrug. “I can’t see a goddamn thing.”
Rorke speaks into the comms. “Eddie, Achilles picked up something northeast of your position.”
“Give me a second to check it out,” Eddie answers back. He pulls out his monocular and spends a minute scouting out the area. “Affirmative,” he mutters into the comm. Eddie aims his sniper rifle and scans the ridges of the mountain. “Good boy, Achilles,” he murmurs as he pulls the trigger. In the distance, an insurgent falls off the sharp ridge he was hiding on.
Achilles wags his tail. I lean over and scratch his head. “Yes, good boy.”
For the next couple of hours we scour the mountainside looking for snipers. Eddie manages to pick off three more before the convoy is scheduled to come through. Once we’re satisfied the area is clear, we take our places—one Humvee on the north end of the pass, the other at the south end. James, Rorke, and I are at the entrance to the ravine. Eddie stays put as overwatch, while Martin and Nikolai are positioned at the exit.
Right on time, two jingle trucks wind their way through the ravine. They’re named for the decorative metal tassels hanging from the bottom of the truck frames that jingle when they move. Stupidest things ever created.
The trucks pass our location and continue toward the base.
“C’mon down, Eddie,” Martin announces at the jingle trucks bounce past their position.
“Roger that,” he calls back as he begins his descent.
I give Achilles a biscuit before opening the Humvee door. He hops in, and I follow. Once Eddie is off the cliffs and into the vehicle, Rorke puts it in drive and makes a U-turn. As we drive through the center of the ravine, a familiar sound echoes off the rock walls.
Ping! Ping!
A hail of metal-on-metal shots ricochets off the Humvee. Staying low, I arch over Achilles who’s panting hard. He doesn’t like the sound of bullets hitting the vehicle almost as much as I don’t. The pucker factor is beginning to rise to uncomfortable levels.
Ping! Ping!
“It’s an ambush! Get us the fuck outta here,” I roar over the clanking of the machine gunfire.
Rorke hits the gas. “Where the fuck did they come from?” he shouts, the tires flinging gravel as we pick up speed.
“Martin, we’re taking fire,” I shout as bullets continue to hit the truck.
“Get the fuck outta there!” he commands.
As we speed toward the end of the ravine and approach the Master Chief’s Humvee, I spot a flash of light just to our right. An insurgent stands at the top of the ridge holding an FIM-92E Stinger.
“Rocket launcher!” I cry out, but it’s too late. The rocket is in the air and coming straight at us.
The rocket strikes between the two sets of wheels on the passenger side, lifting the truck off the ground. Instinctively, I brace for the inevitable rollover and reach out for Achilles. A massive fireball topples the Humvee upside-down a couple of times, my head hitting the roof. Stars bloom across my vision, but I hold on tight to Achilles. A few long seconds later, the Humvee lands on its side and slides across the dirt road. The screech of metal scraping the rocks is almost deafening.
Once the Humvee stops moving, I attempt to move. Not being strapped in, I bounced around the vehicle like a rubber ball. “Everyone alright?” Rorke calls out.
“Yeah, great,” Eddie grumbles. “Axel, how ‘bout you and Achilles?”
I rub my head where I’m sure a welt is already growing and try to clear my vision. I glance over at Achilles, who isn’t moving. “I’m fine, but Achilles is down. We need to move.”
“Agreed. I’m sure they’re reloading the RPG.”
The three of us attempt to exit the vehicle to a barrage of gunfire. With my ears still ringing, I can only make out muffled sounds as they hit the truck. “Motherfuckers!” Rorke roars over the noise as he ducks back down. “Can anyone reach the gear?”
I twist and cringe, my muscles not cooperating with me. “Hold on,” I mutter through gritted teeth as I work through the pain and reach into the back. I manage to reach Eddie’s sniper rifle and two HK MP7 assault rifles.
I pass the weapons to the front as I cradle Achilles. My poor pupper is bleeding and his breaths are shallow.
He needs medical help, and fast.
“Rorke, cover me,” Eddie commands as he attempts to exit the vehicle once more. Rorke opens fire and Eddie scrambles out and behind the Humvee. Resting his rifle on the edge of the vehicle, he begins to scan for insurgents. “Give me a minute,” he utters as he peers through his site. Within a couple of minutes, he opens fire. Two short bursts resulting in two men freefalling from the rocks. Another few bursts from the rifle and before long, the bullets from the top of the canyon stop. Once the bullets stop flying, Rorke exits the vehicle. I scoop Achilles up and carry him out.
The three of us look over to find the other Humvee in the same position as we are. Fuck. No way to drive out of here.
“You guys all right?” Master Chief calls over the comms.
“We’re all breathin’,” Eddie answers. “You guys?”
“We’re good, but we need to move.”
“I agree.” I add off comms, “We’re sitting ducks if we stay.”
“Any ideas?” Rorke asks the group.
There is a short pause, then Master Chief answers, “To the left of our Humvee is an outcrop of rocks. Could use a shield until reinforcements get here.”
I look at Rorke, who looks at Eddie. Eddie pokes his head out from behind our disabled Humvee. “He’s right,” he mutters, still looking. “It’s about a click north of here,” Eddie answers, “Copy, I see it.” Rorke turns to me. “You have any smoke bombs on you?”
I shake my head. “No, but there are some in the truck.” I gently place Achilles at Rorke’s feet. Achilles groans, but doesn’t open his eyes. “Cover me.” I scramble back inside and gather all the weapons I can carry, then scramble back out. Handing the smoke bombs and ammunition to Eddie, I pick Achilles back up. I position his body over my shoulders so I can hold his legs.
Just as we get ready to move, Eddie tosses the smoke bomb. Once it deploys, we haul ass toward the outcrop. As we take cover behind the other upended Humvee, another flash appears from the rocks above. An RPG flies toward our vehicle and tosses it up into the air once more and it explodes into a giant fireball. If we hadn’t moved when we did…
Gunfire comes from the rock outcrop, and the insurgent holding the RPG swan dives from his location, hitting the ground with a thud. It doesn’t stop them—another terrorist picks up the weapon and reloads. More men appear from the cliffs and begin to fire. Bullets spray sand and rocks across our path. Martin and Nikolai fire back, but there’s too many of them—and not enough of us. A burning sensation spreads from my right side, and I know I’ve been hit.
The safety of the base seems so far. Achilles isn’t a small dog, and carrying him on my shoulders is beginning to tire me, but the muffled sound of sniper fire urges me onward. Compelling myself to keep moving, we make it to the other vehicle and duck behind it, with Achilles still slumped over my neck. My muscles burn and my ears ring from the explosion. I crane my head upward, desperately listening for the distant wump wump of a helicopter, but all I can hear is the rapid thu
mp thump of my heartbeat.
“We need to keep moving,” Eddie urges.
“We need to get our shit together,” Rorke mutters.
I’m sure Martin called for an extraction.
Someone will be here soon.
Exhaling, I push myself off the hot metal. “Come on, bubba,” I grunt as I shift his weight. He whimpers but doesn’t move.
I keep putting one foot in front of the other, desperate to get Achilles to safety. It doesn’t matter how much my chest aches, or how much blood I’m losing from my wounds. I won’t give up. “Stay with me, buddy,” I beg, my muscles screaming for relief. “We’ll be safe soon.”
The buzzing in my ears begins to fade, and I begin to make out clearer sounds.
Machine gun fire echoing off the peaks above me.
Shouts from my team urging us forward.
Screams from the insurgents as they are wounded and killed.
We keep moving but the sun is starting to sink, its burning crown disappearing behind the escarpment. Shadows lengthen and grow nightmarishly long. If we’re still out here when it gets dark, odds are we won’t make it back.
My ankles throb from Achilles’ weight, but we manage to make it behind the outcrop. Master Chief rushes over to check on us. Placing Achilles down in front of me, I lean my back on the hot stone and slide to the ground. “You all right?” Martin asks us.
“Some bumps and bruises, but otherwise we’re good. Axel got shot.”
“Nikolai!” Martin shouts over the ricocheting bullets. “Check Axel and Achilles out.” Then turns to Rorke and Eddie. “You two reload.”
I sit and stroke Achilles’ head while I pray to anyone listening, he’ll be alright as Nikolai checks out my bullet wound. He applies pressure and I see stars. “We need to get you to a hospital,” he says under his breath, but the ringing in my ears has finally subsided and I hear every word.
It wasn’t what he said—but how he said it.
I know that tone.
He’s worried, and that worries me.
Just then, Achilles opens his eyes. Using all of his strength, he moves so his head is resting on my leg. His light whine rips my heart out of my chest. “Nik, please look at Achilles. I don’t care if I die… he needs to make it home alive.”
“You’re not gonna die,” he corrects me. “But I’ll take a look at him.” Nikolai shifts and begins to look over Achilles. He winces when Nikolai touches his back leg as well as his side.
Just over the top of the precipice, not thirty yards from our location, a helicopter appears. It circles then sinks to the ground, vanishing in a cloud of dust. Men exit the haze, covering the distance between us in seconds. Another helicopter appears from the opposite side and fires on the rockface. Within minutes, bullets stop bouncing off the rocks that protect us and an eerie silence follows.
Relief washes over me like a warm blanket, but this also stops the adrenaline flowing through me. Excruciating pain starts to emanate from my side, and my vision begins to tunnel. “Achilles,” I mutter as men surround us. “He’s wounded. Please help him.”
One of the men gently picks him up and carries him toward the grounded helicopter. As my eyes begin to close, I’m lifted off the ground. “Hang on, Axel,” someone mutters as I’m carried toward the bird.
The whirling of the rotor blades began to get louder, and soon I hear the whine of the engines. As hard as I try, my eyes won’t open. “Achilles,” I whisper. “Please help him.”
“We’ve got him, Axel. Try to relax.” Rorke’s voice calms me a bit, but I’m still worried.
I’m lifted up and placed flat.
I need to see Achilles.
Where’s Achilles?
With all of my strength, I tear open my eyes. Achilles is on a cot to my left, the medics tending to him. Nikolai sits to my right and affixes a bandage to my wound.
The helicopter lurches as it lifts off the ground, tilting forward almost ninety degrees as it speeds up and over the jagged hilltop. Nikolai holds me down as we maneuver, making sure I don’t fly off of the cot. The earth races beneath us as we make our getaway, the other helicopter firing into the mountains to give us cover.
“Achilles,” I call over the rush of air through the helicopter. His ears perk up and he turns his head toward me. Reaching out my hand, I scratch behind his right ear. He whimpers at my touch, which nearly breaks me. “Hang in there, bubba,” I coo, my voice cracking. “Everything’s gonna be alright.”
My eyes begin to grow heavy, but I keep scratching.
My arm feels like weights are attached, but I keep scratching.
He’s my partner.
My teammate.
My best friend.
I can’t lose him.
Chapter Two
One week later . . .
I’m lying in a hospital bed at Forward Operating Base in Jalalabad, or as we like to call it, J-Bad. After two surgeries to repair a hole in my liver and a ruptured spleen, they’ve informed me I’ll be discharged next week.
I’ll be able to go back to work… but not back to Afghanistan.
I’m going home.
I’m not sure if I should wallow in self-pity or resign myself to it being inevitable. You can’t be a special operator forever—or at least that’s what I was told. Your body doesn’t want to do the things your mind tells it to. I was lucky and the damage was minimal. Who knows. Maybe once my injuries heal, they’ll clear me to return to my team.
I’m not counting on it, though.
A quick rap at the door directs my attention forward, and I witness Lieutenant Commander Andrew Bradburn, our team commander, entering my room. “How you feelin’ soldier?” he asks as he takes a seat next to my bed.
“Feeling fantastic, sir,” I reply with a smile.
He chuckles and shakes his head. “You look like crap.” His face morphs from jovial to stoic. He sighs, then says, “Looks like you’re goin’ back home.”
“That’s what they’re tellin’ me.” I attempt to shift my position and cringe, the sutures in my side not liking the direction I’m moving.
He puts his hand out. “Relax, son. Don’t want you to pop a stitch. I’m sure you don’t want to be here longer than you need to be.” He stands and moves toward the door. “I came by, because someone’s been dying to see you.” Leaning his head out of my doorway, he gives a subtle wave. Within moments, another man in uniform is being dragged into the small room by none other than Achilles. With a bandage wrapped around his belly and a clunky cast on his hind leg, he searches the room. When he spots me, his eyes light up and his tail wags wildly.
“Hey bubba!” I wince as I sit up. “How’s my good boy!”
The soldier not being able to hold his leash any longer releases it, and Achilles bounds across the room and leaps onto my bed.
“Oooh,” I grunt as his massive form sprawls across me, pain lancing across my side… but I don’t care. Achilles is here—and he’s alive. He’s so excited, he can’t sit still. His high-pitched cries tug at my heartstrings.
I grab the fur behind his ears and pull him toward me, pressing my face into his neck. I’ve never been as happy as I am right now. My big boy survived. Tears begin to stream down my face, but I don’t care. He’s here.
Still hyper, he wiggles out of my grip.
“It seems Achilles here is unfit to serve due to his extensive injuries,” Bradburn mutters as Achilles smothers me with wet kisses, licking the salty liquid from my cheeks. “And you being his handler, have the first shot of adopting him.”
I freeze, then spin my gaze to Bradburn. “My ears still aren’t right. Did you just say adopt?” I cautiously ask.
He raises his eyebrows and smiles. “He’s officially retired. He served his country well and deserves to spend the rest of his doggy days with someone he loves.”
He barks as if in agreement, but really he just wants scratches. I chuckle and tousle the fur on his head. “So… he’s mine?” I ask, making sure I heard him correc
tly and it’s not the drugs playing tricks on me.
“If you’ll have him.” He smiles. “I’ll draw up the paperwork and we’ll get him sent home.”
As the words exit his lips, the nurse enters the room and gasps. “Get that dog off of him at once!” she squeals. “He’ll rip his sutures.”
“We were just leaving, ma’am,” Bradburn announces as he takes hold of the leash. “C’mon, Achilles. Time to go.” Being the good boy he is, Achilles climbs down as commanded. “Once you sign the release forms, we’ll get him on a plane.”
“How long will that take?” I wonder aloud.
“Not long. Should be in the air sometime tomorrow.”
Oh, wow. I’ll still be here. “I should probably call my mom and let her know. She can pick him up at the airport.”
The nurse moves to the foot of my bed with her hands on her hips. “Unless that dog is a therapy dog, he shouldn’t be here to begin with,” she squawks. “This is a hospital, not a kennel.”
Bradburn’s lips twist. “Yes, ma’am. We were just leaving.” He turns his attention back to me. “I’ll have the papers dropped off later this afternoon. Until then, relax. C’mon, Achilles. Let’s go.”
The two men and Achilles exit, and the nurse comes over to check my sutures. Removing the large bandage, she reprimands, “What were you thinking letting that monstrous dog jump on top of you like that?”
I shrug. “I missed him.”
Her lips twitch up into a partial smile. “Well, try to be careful. We don’t want to jeopardize your recovery.”
Once the nurse exits, I pick up my cell phone and call home. I explain to my mom the circumstances, and she’s happy to pick up Achilles for me. The base is a three-hour trip from my parents’ house, and I’m glad she’s willing to drive all that way to pick up a dog she’s never met.
Good… one less thing for me to worry about.
