by Margaret Kay
His eyes shifted to Cooper, who stared straight ahead. Doc was sure Cooper was pleased Madison, his wife, would be nowhere near any of that shit. Or maybe Cooper had been the one to make the call on it. Safely on base, would be the only place Doc would want his wife, if he still had one. He mentally kicked his own ass. Mind back on the mission.
“That’s it,” Shepherd said. “Get your gear ready. Outfit with full combat gear and desert fatigues. I have Requisition Ryan packing up your ammo. He’ll meet you in the garage. Be ready to roll within the hour. Be safe and go get them!”
Everyone stood and moved to the door. At the stairs, some went up, some went down. Doc took the stairs down one flight to four, to where his office was. Gary ‘the Undertaker’ Sloan, Delta Team’s medic, was right behind him.
“Fucking Somalia,” Sloan said. “I hate that place.”
“Yeah, it’s not my favorite place either,” Doc agreed.
They each went into their offices. Doc grabbed his mission medical kit, which was always kept packed and ready. He picked through the supplies, double checking its contents. He had a little space left. Knowing they were going to an area where food was scarce, he added as many protein bars that would fit.
“Fighting is active along the border,” Sloan yelled from his office. “What do you think, Doc, should we try to bring some whole blood?”
“We’ll requisition a supply from the infirmary at Camp Lemonnier, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to bring our own insulated bags for it.” He grabbed his from the shelf.
Angel arrived for work at Shepherd Security with baby Sammy on Monday morning. Jackson and the team had been scrambled the day before. After the men’s sudden departure, Angel stayed at Sienna’s long after Michaela and Yvette left. They were the only other guests who hadn’t been called into work. Sienna was doing very well with being with a man who did what their men did.
She found it odd that Jackson had not called her since he got called into work. She knew she would find out the details of the mission this morning. Shepherd would tell her. He always did. Angel took Sammy’s jacket off and sat him in the activity chair which sat beside her desk. She logged into her computer and logged herself into the staff calendar. She saw that Shepherd was logged in, as well as Yvette and Michaela.
Before she could reach for her cell phone to text Shepherd, a message came in from him asking her to come to his office. She picked up baby Sammy and carried him through the inner hallway to Shepherd’s office. His door was open, and he sat behind his desk. He rolled out from behind it as she entered the room. He extended his hands to take his little namesake.
He motioned to the guest chair which sat next to him. “How are you little man?” He held Sammy up in front of him and kissed his forehead. “How are you this morning?” He asked Angel.
“Good, a little concerned about the team, though. Jackson hasn’t called since he deployed yesterday.”
“I asked him not to,” Shepherd said.
Angel stared at him in disbelief. He’d never done that before. She became even more confused when Lassiter came through the door.
“Hi, Angel,” Lassiter said, greeting her with a hug. He took a seat beside her.
Angel glanced between the two men. “This can’t be good. Is Jackson okay?”
Shepherd gave her a reassuring smile. “The entire team is fine.”
“Then why?”
“Angel, the team deployed to Djibouti, Africa.”
“I know. Yvette called into Ops after they got called in. They said the Army called in a favor from you.”
“Yes and no,” Shepherd replied. “Captain Marscin, the base commander knows of our interest in the village your mother and the Sisters of Mercy are in. They’ve been keeping an eye on the area. He called to let us know an armed conflict erupted in the area.” He paused and his eyes flickered to Lassiter. “Angel, they lost contact with the Sisters and believe their position was overrun by unfriendly forces.”
Angel took a deep breath. This was her worst nightmare coming true. She let the breath out slowly. “How soon will the team get there?”
“After we called them in, they left immediately for Andrews Air Force Base, where they caught a C-17. Flight time was approximately fourteen hours. I got confirmation that they landed in Djibouti an hour ago. They’re gearing up and getting ready to deploy to the village. I would expect them to be onsite within the next few hours.”
Angel nodded; her eyes locked onto Sammy. “What is their mission?”
“To find and evacuate the Sisters and any civilians in their care,” Shepherd said. “Miller will remain in Ops at Camp Lemonnier coordinating the mission. She will also be in contact with our Ops Center throughout.”
Angel nodded again. “You’ll keep me informed?”
Lassiter squeezed her shoulder. “You know we will. When the mission is on, I will monitor the situation from the conference room and will keep you updated.”
“Thanks, Joe,” Angel said. It was never good for her to listen to mission operations live. “Okay, I better get to work.” She stood and reached for Sammy.
“Angel, are you okay?” Shepherd asked, allowing her to take Sammy from his arms.
She beamed a fake smile at him as she hugged her son close to her. “I’m fine. The team will get my mom out.”
“It’s okay to be worried,” Lassiter said softly.
“I know. And I am.”
The eight men walked the flight line and boarded the helicopter. It would be a short flight to the drop zone. Doc sat on the bench with his back to the pilots. He had a clear view of every team member. He rummaged through his medical kit, one final check. His eyes went to Cooper, seated directly in front of him. Cooper’s eyes were closed, and he was in his usual pre-mission meditation state.
Garcia, seated beside him, had his earbuds in, rocking out to the Stones or the Doors, no doubt. He was methodically checking over his weapons. His jaw was set, his lips drawn into a thin line. Jackson, further within the craft wore his earbuds as well. Country music was his go-to, to calm his pre-mission adrenaline. His eyes were focused on the picture of Angel and Sammy he kept in his helmet. Beside him, sat Lambchop. The Reverend had his phone in front of his face, reading Bible verses, no doubt. He’d broadcast a short prayer to the group as the helo was on final approach to the LZ.
Doc’s eyes then went to the Birdman. He was the quirkiest of the group in his pre-mission ritual. He kissed his dog tags three times and then tucked them away. He checked each weapon, and then he kissed his dog tags one last time, followed by making the sign of the cross in classic Catholic fashion, spectacles, testicles, wallet, watch. Doc’s lips curved into a grin watching the Birdman do his thing. The Cajun openly professed to being superstitious. If he got distracted and missed a step or did a step out of order, he started all over again. The team used to fuck with him, trying to make him goof up so he’d have to restart it.
The Undertaker sat beside the Birdman. Doc had watched him on countless missions. He didn’t seem to have a pre-mission ritual, like the others. He talked and laughed with Mother, who attempted to play his word games on his phone. Doc knew Mother preferred to be left alone to play his games, but he would never ignore the Undertaker’s joking banter. Maybe that was the pre-mission ritual the two of them followed?
Everyone knew that Mother was addicted to the games, a competitive streak in him drove him to build his vocabulary with several different word-a-day text messages coming to his phone. He often shared new words with the team, not to wow them with his impressive vocabulary, but to educate them. Mother had the spirit of a teacher in him.
“Three-minutes till the drop zone, standby,” came the pilot’s voice.
Immediately, Lambchop lowered his phone. Both Garcia and Jackson removed their earbuds. When Lambchop knew he had everyone’s attention, he began. “Dear Lord, we, your humble servants ask that you protect us and all innocent civilians during the coming operation. Please let us find the Sisters and th
e women and children in their care, safe. Enable us to withdraw to the LZ without incident. We ask this in the name of your Son, Jesus Christ, Amen.”
Amen resounded throughout the helicopter. Doc wasn’t sure what would happen if Shepherd ever hired someone who objected to the pre-mission prayers. He actually wasn’t sure if anyone on the team already did object. He was pretty sure Shepherd and Cooper both would tell any man who complained to keep it to himself if he had a problem with it. Doc wasn’t overly religious, but he did believe in God. He found the pre-mission blessing comforting. Besides, he’d prefer to have the big man on their side and not against them.
Jackson and Sloan moved to the doors and took up sniper positions. The chopper set down in the small clearing as discussed in the pre-mission briefing. It would be a two click hike from the LZ to the village where the Sisters should be. The base in Djibouti last heard from them over twenty-four hours ago. Even though the Sisters planned to shelter in place, they could be anywhere by now, that’s if they were still alive. But the village was a starting point.
Doc was the first to hop out of the chopper, his AR-15 held at the ready. He prostrated himself on the ground a few steps out, rifle trained in front of himself, his eyes scanning for threats. To his left, Cooper did the same, aiming his rifle in the other direction. It took only seconds for the eight men to disembark and for the helicopter to lift back into the sky, bank, and speed away. It cleared the area without incident.
The eight men made their way through the mixed landscape of rocky outcroppings with sparse vegetation, desert soil, and a few five-foot tall trees randomly growing in places that defied logic. The village was on the other side of the small rocky rise they would climb, which would keep them hidden from the view of any unfriendly forces that could still be in the area. They made good time traversing the rough terrain. It was late afternoon, and it was hot, a seasonal one-hundred five degrees. The rocks held the heat making the ground hot too.
“This is an awful place,” Doc remarked aloud.
“A complete shit-hole,” Sloan seconded. “I can’t understand why anyone would fight over this place.”
“Hey, maintain operational silence!” Cooper barked. He didn’t like this place any more than anyone else but getting Angel’s mom and the other Sisters out was the mission.
From the hillside, they viewed the village through binoculars. All looked quiet, but they knew that was seldom the case. At least it hadn’t been burned as neighboring villages had.
“I don’t see anyone moving, neither military nor civilian. It’s quiet. Too quiet,” Cooper said. He did see at least a dozen bodies on the ground.
“Thermal imaging from the satellite still shows no heat signatures,” Madison broadcast. “I hope the Sisters are in the cave as they intended. If not, they aren’t there.” She didn’t need to elaborate on the fact that they could be there and show no heat signatures if they were dead.
“Roger that, Xena,” Cooper acknowledged. “Watch our six. We’re heading in now.”
“You better believe it,” she replied through their comms. “Good hunting Alpha and Delta.”
The men took up an assault formation, covering each other as they carefully moved in. They fanned out in teams of two, clearing each building as they came to it. Once in the center of the village, Cooper sent both Jackson and Sloan, the two snipers, onto different roofs to cover the team as they continued to clear the buildings.
The whole village appeared to be deserted. The buildings were looted, but were intact, not burned to the ground. There were a dozen bodies, their lives extinguished from gunshot wounds. They lay mostly in front of tiny homes.
Garcia approached a body that lay in front of the building that was designated as the orphanage during the briefing. “I have a Sister, multiple bullets in the back,” Garcia broadcast.
“Is it Angel’s mom, Razor?” Jackson asked, a lump in his throat. Through the scope he watched Garcia.
Garcia rolled the woman over. “Negative, this Sister is Hispanic and much younger.”
Jackson breathed out a sigh of relief.
“At the entrance to the clinic. It literally is sitting right up against the rocky hill,” Doc broadcast. He made eye contact with Cooper, who stood beside him.
“We’re breaching it now,” Cooper said. “Continue to search for unfriendlies or survivors. We won’t have time to bury the dead.”
Cooper went in first. His gun swept around the room while his eyes scanned every corner, every shadow. Doc was in right behind him, his AR-15 held tightly in his grasp ready to fire on any threat. The two men moved around the room slowly. The room was hot, the air stuffy. Not a soul was in sight. They moved towards the back wall that would be up against the towering hill.
“Sister Bernice John,” Cooper called. “We’re here to get you out!”
There was the sound of movement in the corner. A portion of the wall moved. A petite woman wearing the traditional ‘penguin’ habit appeared in the opening. Her face was an older version of Angel’s.
“Thank God,” she said. “We are here, within the cave.”
“Sister Bernice John?” Cooper asked.
“Yes,” she confirmed with a warm smile. “Did Captain Marscin send you?”
“Yes. I’m sorry it took us so long to arrive.”
“No apology needed. Until this morning there were enemy forces in the village. We have stayed hidden, but the children are getting restless.”
Doc stepped forward. “Do you have any injured within, Sister?”
“We do. Many refugees from a nearby village came to us needing medical attention. Several of our own people didn’t make it within before the enemy was upon us. Am I correct in fearing the worst?”
“I’m sorry, Sister. Yes, your village suffered several casualties.”
Tears filled her eyes, and she nodded.
“Coop, the village is clear. We need to move those people out to the pickup rendezvous while we have some light left,” the Undertaker broadcast. “I don’t have any movement nearby, but I think we’ve gotten some attention a few hills to our west. I’ve got some movement that could indicate mobilization.”
“Roger that. Xena, are you monitoring that situation?” He asked his wife.
“Roger Coop. Not sure if they are getting ready to head in your direction or if their sudden movement is coincidental, but I wouldn’t take my time if I were you. If they become a threat, I will call in some air support, but let’s not push our luck.”
“Roger Xena.” Cooper turned his attention back to Angel’s mom. “We need to get your people together and move out quickly. This is our medic. He can take a look at your wounded.”
She nodded, motioned to the two men to follow, and then went back through the secret doorway.
Doc followed her back through the hole in the wall and into the cave. Low voltage lamps illuminated the space. It was jam-packed with women and children, and supplies. The air was stifling, and it had the stench of body odor, urine, and feces.
“Oh, shit,” he mumbled, pulling his scarf over his mouth. He could usually tolerate most smells, but it was overpowering.
“Yes, in those buckets,” a waif of a girl said, pointing to the six buckets that lined the fake wall.
She was a white girl who appeared to be in her mid-teens. She had dirty dark blond hair that hung long in her face. She was short, not much over five foot. Her eyes drew his attention. Even in this low lighting the beautiful blue depths sparkled and held his gaze. They were focused on him in a way that bothered him.
“We need to move, fast,” he said. “I’ll evaluate the wounded as we move them.”
“I have two patients that cannot be moved. It will kill them,” she argued.
“We are all evacuating, now,” he replied firmly.
“I’m not and neither are my patients.”
“Sister Elizabeth,” Sister Bernice John cut in. “Perhaps this medic can assist with your two most critically wounded.”
&nbs
p; “Yes, Sister,” Elizabeth said. She returned her gaze to his. “They are back in the farthest chamber. I don’t believe any of the wounded in this section to be too fragile to be moved.”
Doc nodded to Cooper. Behind him, several other members of their team filed in to aid with the extraction of the many within the cave. Doc followed the young girl through a low and narrow cutout in the rocks that led into a second chamber. A curtain hung, which he pushed aside as he stood upright. There, on two metal tables laid her patients.
His gaze swept over their tiny bodies. Neither could have been older than five years old. She’d cleaned most of the blood from them, but they both had large stitched up wounds with scabbed blood. One of the boys looked as though he’d undergone open heart surgery. The other, besides a large wound at his collar bone, had both legs in crude splints. He couldn’t believe the sight. The job done on them both had been done with a poor technique. The wounds weren’t even bandaged. He was surprised the bleeding had stopped.
