The Corrector

by Ethan Jones

  He tried to climb to his feet, but one of his legs was stuck underneath the rubble. He moved some of the cinderblocks away and glanced at the bleeding knee. He could still move the leg, despite the stabbing pain.

  Just as he stood up and readied his rifle, Claudia rushed toward him. “Javin, Javin.”

  His ears were still ringing, and her words came in as if muted. “Eh . . . I’m okay. You?”

  Claudia nodded. “Good. The helo dropped a bomb.”

  “Must have. Everything is knocked down.”

  Javin wondered about the type of bomb the helicopter had dropped. He had not seen any missile or rocket. It must have been a freefall one thousand pounder, considering the effects. He tried to find the old man or any of the other fighters. Most of the house was covered in dust and debris. “Saif, Saif,” Javin shouted.

  “We’ve got to go, Javin,” Claudia said.

  “Go? Where?”

  “Away. The helo will return, or the assault team will swoop in.”

  “Can we outrun them?”

  “No. We’ll outsmart them.”

  “How?”

  “Come and see.”

  “What about Saif and the others?” Javin gestured around him.

  Claudia shook her head. “Everything is obliterated, Javin. You’re lucky to be still alive. If Saif and the others aren’t dead already, they’re badly wounded. We can’t take them where we’re going. You can barely walk, and we’ve got to hurry.”

  Javin nodded. His face twisted in an expression of sadness. These people had fought alongside him. It did not feel right to leave them behind. If the helicopter dropped another bomb or fired a rocket or a missile, they would all be dead.

  Claudia said, “This way. Come.” She wrapped her arm around his waist.

  “I . . . I can walk.”

  “Of course you can. But this way will be faster.”

  They shuffled toward the other house.

  As Javin limped through the open field, he glanced around for the attackers. They seemed to have disappeared. Perhaps they’re waiting for another bomb drop.

  Claudia helped him climb the few stairs, then guided him around the heaps of debris.

  Javin asked, “Where are we going?”

  “Into the tunnel.”

  He peered at her. “There’s a tunnel?”

  “Yeah, we missed it the first time. Rahim knew about it.”

  “Oh, how is he?”

  “All right. Right around here.”

  They stepped into the next room.

  Rahim was kneeling next to a square-shaped hole about a foot away from the wall.

  Javin tried to remember what had covered the hole so that he had not noticed it. Must have been some broken furniture and rags. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier?” Javin asked. “We could have avoided this.”

  Rahim shrugged and winced. “I thought you saw it.”

  “We didn’t, and you knew that.”

  “I wasn’t sure it was still intact.”

  “Or you didn’t want to tell us.”

  Claudia said, “No time to waste. Let’s go.”

  “How far does this go?”

  “It’s about a mile long. Takes you inside Deraa—Ibrahim Mosque.”

  Javin nodded. Sometimes militants built tunnels that led into places of worship, hospitals, or schools. Not the first place that came to mind when looking for terrorists. “Claudia, you go first.”

  She squeezed inside the mouth of the tunnel, which was just large enough for a person to move through. She climbed down for about ten feet or so using a crude wooden ladder fastened to the tunnel’s wall. Then she stopped and looked up.

  The bright beam of her Maglite blinded Javin for a moment. “Is it clear?”

  “Yeah, you’re next?”

  “No, I’m sending Rahim.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, go.”

  Javin helped Rahim slide down without too much trouble. He grunted and cursed when his knee bumped against the sharp edge of the tunnel. Then his foot slipped and he dropped down a couple of rungs. His body crashed against the tunnel wall, but he stayed on the ladder. He cursed again, then he reached the landing next to Claudia.

  “Your turn, Javin,” she said.

  Javin lifted his rifle over his shoulder, then got down into the tunnel. He ignored his left knee popping and cracking with each unsteady step. His shoulders burned, and his right arm shook, but he kept going.

  He was about halfway down the ladder when an explosion shook the area. Dust and chunks of the tunnel walls rained over Javin’s head, and cinderblocks fell from above.

  He swung his body to the left, and the first cinderblock missed his head. The second one struck against his chest. Javin grunted, but held onto the rung.

  Concrete chunks and dirt continued to fall.

  Javin hurried down the last few rungs. As he jumped down to the landing, another cinderblock rolled down the mouth of the tunnel. Javin stepped to the side, and the cinderblock broke in half by his feet.

  He had hardly caught his breath when dust and debris fell from the tunnel’s roof just a couple of inches above his head. More cinderblocks began to fill the mouth of the tunnel.

  “Let’s go, come on,” Claudia called out at Rahim and Javin.

  He began to walk along the narrow tunnel. It was just four feet wide and maybe six feet high. Javin had to drop his head in a few sections and turn sideways in a couple of spots, in order to proceed. “Do we know if the other end is clear?”

  “No idea,” Rahim said.

  “Let’s hope it is,” Claudia shouted.

  Javin glanced back into the darkness.

  Then another explosion rocked the area. Large chunks of dirt fell against his body. Javin covered his face and tried to hurry his pace. His boots caught on the uneven floor, but he pressed forward.

  Rahim was hobbling a few steps ahead of him.

  Javin said, “Can you do it?”

  “Yes, yes. I’m doing it.”

  “Faster, hurry, before we die here like buried rats.”

  Rahim sped up, and the team began to make good time.

  The walls did not cave in, and no more dirt fell on them. Javin figured they had walked for about two hundred yards. He listened, but heard nothing except his heartbeat, Rahim’s heavy breathing, and their footsteps shuffling over the floor. Javin hoped the other end of the tunnel was not blocked. If they could make it to the mosque, they would be out of the attackers’ reach.

  That thought gave him courage and strength.

  The other thought that perhaps they were walking into an ambush never crossed his mind.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Southern edge of Deraa City

  Syria

  Javin was not certain how long they had walked. He had checked his watch, but the glass had been cracked and the digital numbers had gone dark. He calculated it had been about fifteen minutes, maybe less, since in the dark time seemed to pass more slowly.

  The tunnel was damp and trash-littered. Claudia, Rahim, and Javin came across empty glass and plastic bottles, rotting food and even excrement. Some sections stunk of urine and body waste.

  Javin used the rough-cut walls for support. His legs burned, but they still held him up. His entire body ached as if he had been run over, but he pressed on. Once we’re out of danger, then we can patch ourselves up.

  At some point, they began to climb, and the tunnel grew narrower, as it had when they descended into it back at the razed house. Javin knew they were nearing the exit. Let’s hope it’s clear.

  “We’re close,” Rahim said and pointed at a scribble on the wall. “Fifty yards.”

  Javin nodded. He glanced up ahead to where the tunnel turned slightly to the right. His eyes had become acclimatized to the faint light, and he noticed a wooden ladder nailed to the wall.

  Claudia was the first one to reach the ladder. She pointed her Maglite up, then checked the ladder’s rungs. When Rahim and Javin stepped
next to her, she said, “Looks good.”

  “Where does this open?” Javin asked.

  “Back of the mosque, near the southern exit.”

  “What can we expect up there?” Claudia gestured with her hand.

  Rahim shrugged. “At this hour, there shouldn’t be anyone up. I mean, anyone standing guard. I’ll go first.”

  Claudia shook her head.

  Rahim said. “If there is someone, they’ll be less likely to shoot someone who looks like me rather than like you. I might even happen to know them.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Claudia said.

  Javin said, “He’s not going to rat us out. If he does, we’ll shoot him.”

  “That still doesn’t help us,” Claudia said.

  Rahim said, “This arguing is all for nothing. I’m not going to betray you. Maybe earlier, but not now. We’re so close to escaping.”

  Claudia glanced at Javin. “I trust your judgment.”

  Javin nodded. “Go,” he said to Rahim. “Once it’s clear, Claudia will follow.”

  “Good,” Rahim said.

  He began to climb the slippery ladder.

  Claudia held her Maglite to assist him.

  Javin readied his rifle, in case there was a surprise.

  When Rahim reached the top, he began to lift the metal cover, which made a grating noise.

  Javin clenched his teeth. He wondered who else could hear or see the moving cover. If someone was sleeping in or walking by that room, they would become curious and check with their rifles ready to fire.

  A few long moments dragged on as Rahim struggled with the heavy cover. Finally, he slid it to the right, and then pushed away something that resembled a rug or a mat. A dim sliver of light did little to illuminate the tunnel, but it showed they could get through.

  Rahim looked down and gave Claudia and Javin a thumbs up and a big smile. “It’s open and clear. We can go.”

  “Be careful,” Javin said.

  Rahim climbed another rung and half his body went through the tunnel’s mouth.

  A quick gunshot volley rang from above.

  Javin cursed.

  Rahim’s limp body fell from the rungs. He dropped to the bottom of the ladder. A quick glance told Javin that Rahim was gone.

  “Ambush,” Claudia said.

  “Frag them,” Javin replied.

  She pulled a fragmentation grenade—designed to pepper the enemy with deadly shrapnel on impact—out of her knapsack and pulled the ring. Holding it in her right hand, Claudia quickly climbed the rungs. When she was about a foot away from the end of the ladder, she tossed it inside the room above.

  “Down, down,” Javin shouted.

  Claudia had slid to the bottom when the grenade exploded. A few fragments fell inside the tunnel, but without causing any harm. Sporadic gunfire followed, but no bullets entered the tunnel.

  Javin handed Claudia a second grenade. This one was a smoke grenade of the canister type, about eight inches long and two inches thick. Once it had exploded, it would serve to effectively screen their movements from the enemy.

  Claudia climbed the ladder again and repeated the same tactic. The grenade erupted with a loud bang, and white smoke began to fill the mosque. Inevitably, some of it seeped into the tunnel.

  A few more gunshots. Again, they were off target.

  Claudia coughed, then drew in a deep breath and raised her rifle. She aimed at no one in particular, but sprayed a long volley. She arched her arm in a sweeping motion, from right to left. Anyone who had not been shredded by the grenade shrapnel would have been mowed down by her barrage.

  She emptied her magazine, then ducked down. She coughed again as her eyes began to water. She cursed the smoke and stepped down a couple of rungs.

  “Come down,” Javin said. “My turn.”

  “Can you climb?”

  “Oh, yeah. Piece of cake.”

  He clenched his teeth and with them the pain erupting from every pore of his body.

  Once Claudia was at the bottom, he climbed fast. When he came near the tunnel’s entrance, he listened. No gunshots, shuffling of feet, or groaning of wounded men. The grenade smoke was dispersing. They would have to leave before more men stormed the room.

  “Ready to go?”

  “Yeah. All right. Let’s roll.”

  He peered through the thinning smoke, but saw no targets. So he held his fire, climbed up, and rolled onto the carpeted floor. He swung his rifle in all directions, expecting someone to move.

  No one did.

  Claudia rolled next to him in a matter of seconds. “Which way?”

  Javin tipped his head toward the nearest window. “Cover me.”

  “Wait, you’re wounded.”

  “So are you.” He pointed at her bleeding face.

  Claudia shrugged. “A bruise. Doesn’t hurt.”

  “Cover me.”

  He fired a quick burst that shattered whatever was left of the broken glass. Then he rushed toward it. He stopped for a moment to study the surroundings. Under the hazy moonlight, he made out the shape of a few vehicles and several houses. Open scrubland lay to their right. Two silhouettes were running toward the mosque, but they were fifty yards away. Javin peered hard and noticed they were carrying rifles.

  “Two hostiles approaching,” he shouted. “Moving out to secure transport.”

  “Copy,” Claudia shouted.

  Javin climbed over the windowsill. He winced when he landed on his feet and cursed under his breath. Let’s find a truck and get out of here. He sighed and dashed toward the vehicles parked by the mosque.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Southern edge of Deraa City

  Syria

  Javin hurried alongside the mosque wall for a few paces, then stepped onto the narrow dirt road. It was harder for the gunmen to take shots at him if they could not use the wall as a reference point.

  A quick burst echoed from the left. Bullets stitched up the ground in front of him, so he dropped behind the nearest truck. Another volley struck the front of the truck, but no bullets came through.

  Javin glanced over his shoulder and to the side, then crawled toward the front. He glanced around for a moment, but saw no targets. He turned his eyes toward the mosque window. Claudia had opened fire at the gunmen who were beyond his line of sight.

  He nodded and raced to the next vehicle. Before he reached it, a gunman stepped out of a large cement truck up ahead. He was surprised to see Javin bolting toward him. The gunman scrambled to raise his rifle. As he brought it up and toward Javin, the Canadian agent fired a quick burst. His bullets knocked the gunman to the ground.

  Javin reached the gunman and began to search his pockets. He found a set of truck keys. Yes, that’d be perfect.

  He looked around and studied the nearest rooftops. No gunmen. He gazed up ahead and noticed a small truck carrying at least two men in the bed. Hurry, Javin.

  He climbed into the cement truck and started the engine. The beast roared to life, and Javin turned it around, heading toward the mosque.

  The gunmen in the small truck had noticed his moves. Bullets struck the side of the cement truck. A couple of them pierced the door, but missed Javin. He was glad there was no one in the passenger’s seat. More bullets pounded against the back of the truck, but Javin barely heard them over the engine’s rumble.

  When he came near the mosque’s window, he hit the brakes. He stretched across the seat and opened the door for Claudia.

  She fired a quick burst, followed by single rounds until she ran out of bullets.

  “Get in,” Javin shouted.

  He turned his attention to where Claudia had been firing. There were no shooters on the ground. Maybe they stepped around the corner? Or were they firing through a window? His eyes flitted between a few windows and rooftops. Still nothing.

  Claudia climbed down out of the window and ran toward the truck.

  A couple of bullets struck the driver’s side of the cement truck. Another bul
let shattered the glass, sending fragments over Javin’s head.

  He swung around and returned fire, aiming for a muzzle flash that sparked on a rooftop. He squeezed off a few rounds, then glanced at Claudia, who was lying on the ground a couple of steps away from the truck’s door.

  “Claudia, Claudia, what’s going on?”

  Claudia let out a groan. “I’m . . . eh . . . I’m hit.”

  Javin cursed, then jumped out of the truck. He looked at Claudia’s back. A dark splotch had appeared just above the upper edge of her bulletproof vest on her right shoulder.

  “How bad is it?” she asked in between gasps.

  “Will leave a mark, but you’ll make it.”

  Claudia grinned.

  He lifted her up, careful not to re-injure her wound. He struggled to get her up the steps and into the cement truck. Claudia hung onto the door, then placed her foot on the tire. It slipped for a moment, but she was able to slide inside the cab.

  Javin had just turned around and was getting ready to climb into the truck when a bullet struck him in the chest. He felt a sharp pain in the lower right side of it. A crunch and a blow, as if someone had struck him with a large hammer.

  The bullet almost knocked him off his feet. He leaned against the truck, then dropped onto the ground. Javin’s jaw snapped, and he bit his tongue.

  A couple of bullets struck the door, inches above his head.

  Javin shrugged off the pain and glanced down at his chest. The crushed bullet was lodged in his bulletproof vest, which had a two-inch tear. He tried to breathe, but the blunt force impact had sucked the air out of his lungs. Javin coughed and spat out blood.

  “Javin, Javin,” Claudia shouted.

  He picked up his rifle, which had fallen out of his hands, and pulled himself up, using the truck’s steps. Another round of bullets struck the door and the front of the truck. The rounds pierced holes and shattered the windows, but missed him.

  Javin squeezed in next to Claudia, who was still gasping and groaning, and reached the steering wheel. He stepped on the gas, and yanked at the wheel. The truck began to turn around.