He sent three rounds in the general direction then hopped up from his position, exposing himself, as he made his way into the stand of trees to his right. He felt the blast from numerous rounds as they splintered the trees in his path.
He found a small rock outcropping and dove behind it, his rifle coming up and resting across the top of the makeshift cover. “I’ve got limited view here guys. Bridger, you better bug out. I’ll cover your six as best I can.”
He saw the bushy man roll to the side then come to his feet, rifle in hand. Jay tracked Bridger’s rear flank as he beat a quick retreat and disappeared into the woods.
Jay sighed once Bridger disappeared into the shadows but quickly ducked when a round ricocheted off of the rock he was behind. He keyed his throat mic again. “I’m pinned.”
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
* * *
ALI BIN-HAMZA fired at the mound of grass that had to be one of the infidels in disguise. He barely noticed the puff of smoke that came from the mound of grass, but he knew that his men were being dropped from that direction. He fired at the mound and saw it move as if someone were using the earth itself as cover.
He knew it had to be a form of camouflage and sprayed more rounds in that direction. He was about to change magazines in his Kalashnikov when rounds ripped into the soft earth around him. He lay flat and prayed that Allah would stretch a protecting hand over him when something struck him in the thigh hard. He knew he had been hit and fought the urge to scream.
Ali rolled to his back and pressed a hand to the wound. Stars popped into his vision at the pain but he knew he had to stop the bleeding. He tugged the bandana from his brow and wrapped it as tightly around his thigh as he could. He barely had enough material to tie a makeshift knot.
He lay in the grass, staring at the sky as his men continued to battle the soldiers in black. Ali clenched his jaw and rolled to his stomach. He gripped the AK in his arms and crawled away from the battle. With the sniper still out there, he couldn’t get to his feet and run. He could only pray that he could get back to the trees and find enough coverage to repay the infidels in kind.
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
* * *
CHESTERFIELD STUMBLED AND fell, a whizzing sound buzzing by his ear. He felt his stomach try to retch when his brain connected the sound with a bullet. A bullet that would have spilled his brains on the ground had he not been inept and tripped.
He rolled to his stomach and tried to peer through the tall grass around the underground bunker. He saw a pair of boots ahead of him and he reached out to tap at them. After no response, Darren crawled beside the man.
The team leader that had been dragging him up the hill stared at the grass beside him with lifeless eyes, blood splattered across his face. Darren saw the gaping would directly over his left eye and the bloody gelatinous material mixed with it. He looked away but the scene would be forever etched in his brain.
He could hear the shouting of men over the nearly constant exchange of gun fire and he watched as a handful of his men ran past him and back to the cover of the woods.
Darren forced himself to roll on to his hands and knees and peered around. There was nearly a stack of black clad bodies at the edge of the berm leading to the front of the bunker. He glanced behind him and saw a half dozen men converging on a rock outcropping.
“This is a total clusterfuck.” He swallowed hard and glanced back toward the front of the bunker. He saw dark skinned men in civilian clothes kick at the bodies, making their way to the edge of the bunker.
He keyed his radio and whispered, “I’m pinned down.” He tried to force the shakiness out of his voice. “They’re coming.”
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
* * *
JIM PUSHED ROGER to the side. “Take cover behind the bar.”
Roger stared at him stupidly. “The bar?”
Jim nodded. “It’s a concrete block.” He nodded to the front of the bunker. “They’re forming up outside.”
“Then we need to retreat to the tunnels!”
Jim shot him a crooked smile. “We’re the welcome wagon.” He hefted the RPG and pulled the plastic safety from the tip. “This is gonna hurt. You might plug your ears.”
Jim watched through the dusty blast proof windows as a group of men banged and clanged on the steel safety door. He felt the edges of his mouth curve into a smile. “I got your virgins hanging right here!”
He tripped the hammer then pulled the trigger. He barely had time to note the hiss of the rocket and attempt to dive beside Roger before the high explosive munition hit the door and blew a hole large enough to drive a car through.
Jim screamed and held his hands over his ears, the ringing in his head forcing his eyes shut.
Roger pulled his fingers from his ears and rose to peek over the bar. He leveled the M4 on the gaping hole as dirt, dust and debris continued to fall around him. He scanned the opening as the dust began to settle and tried not to see the fragments of human bodies littering the ground.
He was just about to reach for Jim when somebody on the ground moved. Roger instinctively squeezed the trigger, putting two rounds into the body and two more above it as the barrel lifted.
Roger slowly came to his feet and stepped over Jim. “You okay?” He nudged the man with his foot.
Jim forced his eyes open and stared at him. “WHAT?” He slowly came to his feet, his head shaking slowly. “THAT WAS A STUPID FUCKING MOVE. REMIND ME TO NEVER DO THAT AGAIN.”
Roger nodded. “You got it, buddy.”
“WHAT?” Jim shook his head and tried to work the ringing from his ears with a finger. “FUCK ME. I THINK I’M DEAF.”
Roger gave him a thumbs up and stepped around him, the barrel of his rifle pointed to the opening. “We have to cover the hole you made. We can’t let them—”
“WHAT? JEEZUS MAN, TALK LOUDER!”
Roger turned and faced him. “WE HAVE TO COVER THAT HOLE!”
Jim squinted at him, trying to read his lips. “YEAH. WE DO.” He looked around the shop for his own rifle then pushed Roger toward the opening. “GO! I HAVE TO FIND MY…THERE IT IS.” He bent and picked up the M4. He continued to shake his head and practically staggered forward. “COVER RIGHT. I GOT LEFT.”
Roger bent to one knee and peered out the crumbling concrete block wall. Bodies were scattered everywhere and he could just make out people running through the tall grass. He brought the rifle up but couldn’t make out who was who. He shook his head and keyed his coms. “Anybody outside the bunkers still?”
He got an affirmative from both Jay and Bridger. Roger groaned and lowered his rifle. He wouldn’t chance one of the running bodies being them.
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
* * *
STEVE POPPED THE top on the pillbox again and worked the M249 out of the hatch. He scanned the area and saw someone in civilian clothes working their way towards the rear of the bunker. “Not today, sweetpea.”
He swung the SAW around and opened fire. He felt the satisfying kick of the weapon and watched the pink mist that sprayed from the would-be attacker. He continued to scan the area and could just make out men in black along the edge of the woods. He watched as one shouldered a rifle and point in his general direction.
Steve dropped the SAW and fell back into the pillbox as a round ricocheted off of the metal hatch. “That’s NOT how you show appreciation for me dropping a haji!”
A second round rang from the hatch cover and Steve worked his way toward the ladder. “I think they spotted my 20!” He gripped the ladder and slid to the floor below. “We got a group of government knuckle draggers along the northwest tree line. I didn’t see anything else before they so rudely invited me to leave the pillbox.”
Gregg nodded and slid to another computer. “We have a warm body along the edge of the bunker and a half dozen more in the trees.” He turned to Steve and smiled. “Should we send another Little Joe to scatter them?”
Steve shook his head
. “I doubt Jim’s noodle could think straight long enough to prep one. Roger said he’s in pretty rough shape.”
Gregg nodded and chewed at his lower lip. He worked the keyboard and finally found Bridger. “Bridger, we have a warm body on the western side of the bunker. It might behoove us to have a hostage before their reinforcements arrive.”
“On it.” Gregg watched Bridger’s heat signature weave through the woods and begin to flank the remnants of the government tactical team. “I need a 20 on the hostage.”
“Fifteen yards ahead and at your eleven o’clock.” Gregg watched as the two heat signatures became one then one larger heat signature slipped back into the woods. “Is he conscious?”
“Not any more,” Bridger grunted as he carried the body along the edge of the trees and near the front of the bunker. “Am I clear?”
Gregg did a quick scan and noted that all of the heat signatures left in the front were making a hasty retreat. “Affirmative, but I wouldn’t waste any time.” He nodded to Steve and Deric who ran to the front and pulled the door open just as Bridger appeared.
Bobby dropped the man unceremoniously on the floor then pulled the ghili suit off and tossed it aside. “I think he shit himself when I appeared beside him.” Bridger wrinkled his nose. “Smelled like it anyway.”
“Great.” Deric dragged the body to a chair and sat him in it. He turned his head away, his face in a grimace. “I think you’re right.” Steve tossed him a set of cuffs and Deric worked the chain around the steel slat along the back.
He pointed at Steve. “You get to bind his legs.”
Steve groaned then pulled a roll of paracord from the counter. “I’m not going to forget this.”
Bridger appeared beside Gregg. “Where’s Jay?”
Gregg pointed to the screen. “I think he’s taking a nap here.”
Bobby scanned the screen then keyed his throat mic. “Jay, you’re clear. You should beat feet back to the bunker while they regroup.”
Jay sounded a little too happy as he replied. “Negative. I’m playing whack-a-haji.”
Gregg nodded and pointed to the screen where the fleeing men along the southern front would suddenly drop as Jay picked them off.
Bridger groaned. “Keep your head down. The fedgov is still alive and kicking.”
Gregg quickly added, “Their numbers are drastically reduced but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before they call in for support. We have one of theirs, though.”
34
DARREN CHESTERFIELD SNAPPED awake as Deric waved the smelling salts under his nose. “Rise and shine, buttercup.”
Darren leaned his face as far from the ammonia based salt as he could. “Where am I?”
“Sitting in your own fecal matter,” Steve stated. “I don’t know what you’ve been eating, but dude, that shit can’t be healthy.”
“Enough.” Deric stepped in front of Chesterfield and snapped his fingers. “You coherent enough to answer a few questions?”
Darren snorted a laugh. “I’m not telling you terrorists anything.”
Steve flipped open the wallet in his hand. “According to this, you work for the Agency.” He stared at Chesterfield who groaned when he realized he had screwed the pooch. Protocol required they leave all identifying documentation before entering the field. Lack of sleep can make you forget the basics.
“So what? A lot of people work for them.”
“Not ‘them,’” Gregg added. “You. You work for the Agency.” He spun his computer screen around. “You’re a mid-level paper pusher. What the hell are you doing in the field?”
Darren clamped his mouth shut and glared at the trio defiantly. Steve smiled and turned to Deric. “Grab the channel locks. I bet I can make him talk.”
Deric nodded. “Want the blowtorch, too?”
Steve shrugged. “Why not. A little barbecued asshole would be a nice treat to send back to his bosses.”
Darren continued to glare at them. “My bosses don’t even know I’m out here.” He broke his stare and looked away. “In all honesty, I don’t think they’d care what you did to me.”
“I guess we’ll find out.” Steve reached out and took the pliers from Deric. He snapped them open and shut a few times in front of Chesterfield. “I reckon after we pull off all of the dangly bits and chicken fry the rest, you’ll be begging us to ask you questions.” He reached for a hand and pried a finger from his closed fist. “This is going to hurt. A lot. So, you know, feel free to scream as much as you need to.”
Darren stammered, “W-wait! Wait!” He turned wide eyes to Deric and Gregg. “What do you want to know?”
Steve came back around and gave him a dissatisfied smirk. “I didn’t even get to pull anything off yet.” He stuck his lower lip out slightly. “You are really harshing my mellow here.”
Gregg nodded. “He really enjoys this part.”
“I said I’d talk!” Chesterfield clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes. “I have a low pain tolerance.”
The steel door slammed open leading to the tunnel and Bridger stepped out. He actually smiled when he saw the agency man awake. “Tell me he’s refusing to talk. Please.”
Deric shook his head. “Nope. He just agreed to tell us everything.”
“Dammit.” Bridger slammed the door shut and closed the distance. “Okay Stinky. Spill it.”
Darren swallowed hard and nodded. “What do you want to know?”
Bridger leaned in close and glared at him. “Start at the beginning.”
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
* * *
A MAN CAME huffing down the hill and slid to a stop behind the rock outcropping. “Whoever was in that machine gun nest is gone. They left the outer hatch open and there’s a small space in there with another steel hatch that leads below.”
“Did you see anybody?”
“Negative. It’s like they bailed. I didn’t see a camera or anything, so…”
The other man nodded and hunkered low. “We set up a three man team at that upper hatch. One drops into the nest, pulls the hatch and drops a couple of tear gas canisters in there with them. The other team sets up on either side of the access in the front. One watches for whoever the shooters were on the south side. The other two pick them off as they exit.”
The tactical team all nodded slowly. “It’s the best we got.”
Another man from the rear broke in. “Why don’t we call in for support? These guys are dug in. Literally.”
The new team leader shook his head. “This is a black operation. Only those with need to know have any idea we’re out here.” He glanced into the sky where he knew the drone would be making low circles, relaying in real time their collective fuck up. “Whoever ‘they’ are, I’m sure they’re not happy with how this is going down.”
The man in the rear groaned. “Ours is not to ponder why, ours is just to do or die.”
“Knock it off.” The new team leader handed a satchel with the tear gas canisters. “Give us a start to set up at the south entrance.”
“Got it.” He took the canisters and turned for the pillbox.
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
* * *
JAY CURSED AS the last man zigged when he should have zagged. His shot went wide just before the man disappeared behind a slight hill. “Son of a…” He caught movement near the edge of the berm and watched as a tactical member set up on either side of the front.
He reached for his throat mic. “You got company. Stacking at the front. Prepare for a breach.”
Gregg cursed over the coms. “We need to let them know we got one of theirs.”
Jay contemplated stepping out from cover but decided against it. These assholes had already proven that they were in “shoot first, ask questions later” mode and he wasn’t ready to make his wife a widow.
“Slippy, can you break into their coms?”
“I’m working on it!”
Jay leaned forward and brought the reticle of his scope on the nea
rest man. “Please don’t make me kill you…”
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
* * *
“THEY’RE GOING TO breach?” Bridger stared at the front of the bunker and leveled his rifle on the window. “Let ‘em try.”
“I’m trying to break into their coms. Just…give me a minute.” Gregg tapped furiously at his keyboard, his focus entirely on breaking their encryption.
Steve and Deric both turned to the rear of the bunker when sunlight poured from the pillbox. “Oh shit!” Steve aimed at the pillbox and loosed two rounds.
Deric noticed something small and black clatter to the floor and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the detonation from the flashbang.
The hiss immediately told him it was gas. “I got this!”
He ran to the rear of the bunker, glancing quickly into the pillbox which was now sealed. He kicked a 55-gallon drum over and wrenched the lid from the steel container. He tried to hold his breath as he swept the hissing canister into the drum and set it upright.
Steve appeared at his side and helped him to lock the lid back in place. Both men were coughing and slobbering as they rolled the drum to the tunnel and pushed it inside before sealing the door. Snot, drool and tears poured from their faces as they tried to work their way to the kitchen.
Bridger glanced side to side. “Tell me we can vent that gas.”
Slippy didn’t look up as he continued to work at the computer. “Eighteen hundred square feet by twelve foot ceilings, approximately ten seconds of exposure without the canister exploding…we should be good so long as they don’t attempt a second one.”
Bridger glanced at Steve and Deric trying to sooth their skin with damp cloths. He ran to the kitchen area and pulled the baking soda from the shelf. He dumped a large amount into a bowl then poured water of it. He soaked a towel in the mixture then pressed it to Steve’s face. “Remember, don’t scrub. Just let this rest on your skin.” He quickly dumped another towel then pressed it gently to Deric’s face. “Work your hands under there if you need to. Give it time, fellas.”
Flags of The Forgoten Page 30