“Six Delta, one SEAL, and a woman entering a valley where intruders all get slaughtered. Limited intelligence about what we’re up against, no real rules of engagement except kill everything—no air support, no ground troops or transportation if need be.”
“Sounds fun, eh?” Reynolds said.
“Yeah, real fun. Not the way I like to plan my missions. Do we even know how vast this cave is?”
“Somewhat,” Reynolds said, reaching into his desk, retrieving a map. It looked old, and he opened it on the desk, flipping on the lamp.
“The words are in English,” Dale noticed.
“Yup. That’s cause we built them.”
“Figures,” Dale muttered. He looked at the map, studying it.
“You’ll be provided with copies, but don’t trust ’em too much. Over the years, there’s likely been modifications to the cave. Just remember, these caves are huge. House lots of people. Shit, this one could probably hold a thousand.”
“We have recon in the village from your asset. Supposedly, there will be no resistance. But what about INTEL on this cave? Anything?”
“Only York.”
Dale sighed.
“Sergeant,” Reynolds said, leaning in, “life doesn’t always go the way you want, especially with an operation of such magnitude.”
Dale grinned. He liked the Colonel’s attitude. He was the epitome of a man’s man, rugged and tough and didn’t take no for an answer. Every minute that passed, Sergeant Comstock gained more and more respect for the Marine Colonel. He liked the man, felt comfortable around him. He was different than most of his commanding officers, this man hated red tape, hated bureaucracy, and pissed off Washington quite often. Dale knew he’d do whatever he had to for this team, and it was reassuring.
“All right, it’s one thing bringing a woman into this, but if she’s willing to get killed, so be it. I’ll let Rivers deal with her.”
“Good. I need you focused, Sergeant.”
“I’d like to request something, Colonel.”
“Name it.”
“I’d like to talk to Sergeant York. We watched some of the videos. I’d like to see them all. After, I’d like to speak with him, see whatever other information I might get. It’d be helpful, since he’s been in the cave.”
Reynolds eyed him curiously, saying nothing.
“Is there a problem with that?” Dale asked.
“There’s something else you need to know.”
“What’s that?” Dale asked.
“Sergeant Comstock, your team actually consists of nine, not eight.”
It took a moment, then Dale’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean . . .”
“I do. Sergeant York is going with you.”
“Hell no!” Dale stated. “That crazy fucker?”
“You acted sentimental while you watched the interrogations,” Reynolds said.
“That’s because he’s one of us. No reason they had to treat him the way it looks.”
“It’s worse, actually.”
“Either way, it’s one thing to feel for a guy, another to think he’s sane. And now you’re suggesting he goes along?”
“I’m not suggesting. He’s going,” Reynolds said.
“Why? Won’t he be a liability?”
“Elizabeth insists he won’t.”
“Look, I’ve seen it happen. I’ve seen people snap out here. York, he’s lost it.”
“I agree. From what I’ve seen, he needs help, perhaps a discharge,” Reynolds agreed. “And before you blame it on Elizabeth, she had to.”
“Why?”
“Because they couldn’t get him to budge. Sergeant Comstock, they drugged the man, they beat him, they gave him little sleep—worse, I’m sure. They did everything in the book and yet he won’t give us the vital information we need. He says he will once on the ground. Thing is, York went deep in that cave. He walked the tunnels, he saw them. He killed a few. Elizabeth decided it would be best for the mission.”
“I don’t like this . . . not one bit,” Dale replied.
“Me either.”
“After what he’s seen, after watching his men die—why does he want to go back, Colonel?”
“Same reason guys like you and I would.”
“And that is . . ?”
“Revenge,” Reynolds said bluntly.
“Shit,” Dale exclaimed. He didn’t like the notion, not one bit. It made sense, though. He’d have done the same thing. And though Comstock had no desire to bring York, he knew the man could provide them details that they’d need. He’d know what to look out for, what they were capable of. Dale also knew something else. If York’s story were true, and he’d lost his own men, he sure as hell would want to go back.
Dale thought a moment, then asked, “Why’d he live? Anyone ask that?”
“If you’re suggesting he took the coward’s way out, you’d be wrong,” Reynolds said. “He was found knocked out cold at the base of the mountain. Some of the villagers were daring enough to have dragged him back. When he awoke, he was lost, out of ammo, and began wandering. Thing is, he wasn’t looking for base, though he found a patrol.”
“What was he looking for?”
“The cave.”
“Thought you said he was out of ammo,” Dale said.
“He still had his knife, Sergeant Comstock,” Reynolds replied.
Dale waited, a long silence underway. He tried to figure it out in his head, to think outside the box, to run a risk assessment on something so bizarre.
It was mind-boggling.
Again, it was the Colonel who interrupted the silence. “Listen, I think Sergeant York will do fine. He promises to follow your command. He’ll be enthusiastic, and you might have to keep a leash on him, but I think he’ll do his job,” Reynolds said.
“Guys who’ve suffered such trauma are ticking time bombs. What if he snaps?”
“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Once you’re in that valley, in that cave, you might need just that. The man is filled with rage. In normal circumstances, this might prove problematic. But in this scenario, it might work to your favor. Those things . . . he says they’re not human. Let’s believe him for a moment. He witnessed firsthand as they literally ripped his men in half. He saw some getting eaten. Now imagine that,” Reynolds said, allowing the words to sink in.
“If everything’s true, then yeah, I get it,” Comstock said. “He’s going back to kill as many as he can. Guess that can’t hurt,” Dale admitted.
“And Sergeant, if for one moment, for one single instance, York loses it—if he snaps or does something to endanger your men, you know what to do,” Reynolds said, leaning in again, staring hard at the battle veteran.
“Colonel?”
“Put a bullet in his head, Sergeant Comstock. You got me? You understand? If York does something to fuck up your mission, put him down.”
“Fair enough,” Dale said. “And the Russian? I don’t trust her.”
“Elizabeth does.”
“That doesn’t mean I do,” Dale said right back.
“Then do the same. You have my blessing. If she does something to hinder this mission, or something that gets your men killed, shoot her too.”
“All right, then I guess I’ll deal with it. Hopefully it won’t come to that.”
“For everyone’s sake, let’s pray it doesn’t.”
Dale thought on it awhile. The thought of putting down a fellow member of The Unit was insane, something he couldn’t imagine. A woman, too. Dale Comstock was a professional, patriotic, a man who did his best to ensure innocent people didn’t die. It happened, sure, but Dale worked hard to avoid innocent deaths. He wasn’t a man to hold grudges, either. In Afghanistan, it’s easy to become racist, anti-Muslim, anti-third world country. With this mission, it would be easy to hold York and the Russian woman in contempt. Hate is the enemy, and Dale tried to change his view on the pair. He didn’t want to go in with his mind on anything other than the mission—whatever the hell it
was.
“Super-soldiers,” Dale mumbled. “It’s hard to believe. Sounds like a horror flick.”
“It does. But Sergeant, it’s no joke. We have York’s testimony, and I personally believe it. He saw something . . . many things that weren’t human. They killed his men. You must realize that what you’re up against isn’t your normal soldier. It’s something more wild, something beastlike, maybe.”
“That Russian scientist talked about them breeding. That’s why we’re going in, right?”
“Yes, because if they continue breeding, their presence will eventually be known.”
“Can we even carry enough ammo? What if there are dozens, hundreds? How will they attack? What are their methods? Do they use weapons?” Dale had many questions.
“York will provide that when he decides it’s time. If he doesn’t, we already talked about the matter. Now, let me ask you a question: What’s the most important rule of an assassination?”
“Shit, I don’t know . . .”
“You take out the assassin.”
“Sounds easy.”
“Yeah, they make it sound easy. Remember, many have tried it. To your advantage, those teams knew less than yours does. That’ll help, I hope.”
“But if they couldn’t get in twenty-six years ago, and Elizabeth saying that they might not only be breeding, but evolving . . .”
“Sergeant Comstock, you’ll be entering the Bermuda Triangle on steroids. Imagine this—few nations know, and the ones who do are scared to death of what lives in that valley. The question is, why?”
“Monsters,” Dale laughed.
“You laugh, but they wiped out over twenty Spetsnaz, and that was right when the chemical was reacting. That was the first generation of these things. Tore the helicopters to shreds, damaged a jet flying overhead, fast too.”
“I swear, I feel as if I’ll wake up from this dream any minute now,” Dale said.
“It gets worse. My sources tell me the Soviets sent in two more teams over the years. Dozens of Spetsnaz, more covert, ready for anything. Met the same fate. Reports were these things weren’t human. And then SAS, Mossad, other Spec Op groups. Until York survived, nobody could get close.”
Dale shook his head in disbelief. “So, everyone’s tried it and now it’s our turn?”
“Pretty much.”
“To die,” Dale said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
“I hope your tactics, your methods, will change the rules a bit. Besides, we have an ace in the hole. Something nobody else had before.”
“Sergeant York,” Dale Comstock said.
Colonel Reynolds nodded his head.
CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE AGENCY
Asymmetrical Clandestine Elite Services
Interrogation of Sergeant C. York
Army, 1st SFOD-D
Interviewer: Elizabeth (ACES)
Location: Khost Province, Afghanistan
Time: 1500 Hours Zulu
CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET
78
“I guess I have nothing,” Elizabeth said. She didn’t like this one bit. “You’re in. Okay? Happy now?”
York grinned, “I am.”
“You try to pull any hotdog shit, you’ll be pulled. Don’t care what information you might have, you’ll obey your orders.”
“I will. Promise,” he said with a smile.
“Well, I suppose that concludes our meeting. We’ll be drilling the team all week. We’ll be sending you in a week, so tomorrow will be your first day of freedom.”
Elizabeth began to stand up, to leave the room. Before she could, York spoke again.
“Know what’s funny about this?”
“Nothing is funny about this,” she responded, pausing, then sitting back down.
“Oh, but ya have to find some humor in it. Here’s the thing about this war. Back in the states, the people, the media, even the fucking politicians think the Afghanis are fighting for national pride, for their country.”
“I know. We’ve been over this,” she replied, annoyed. “It’s about territory.”
“Have you ever ridden through the ghettos of LA, New Orleans, maybe Chicago?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“I have. And for a white boy like me, that’s a good way to get killed.”
“It’s pretty stupid, if you ask me. What’s the point?”
“The point is, whatever they pumped these people full of changed them, but not necessarily how you think. If you think the Taliban are territorial, if you think they’re violent, you can’t imagine these things. They’re worse than any gang, worse than any terrorist cell.”
“Save it,” she retorted. “I already said you’re in. You got your way.”
“You don’t get it. I’m trying to warn you.”
“Of what?”
“That we won’t be coming back.”
Elizabeth paused, not knowing what to say.
“Imagine walking into the worst gang infested neighborhood, filled with ravenous dogs. Worse, even. Sneak up to a pride of lions and snatch a cub and see what they do to you.”
“Then why go in? Why put yourself in harm’s way? Why not just tell me what I need to know?”
“You know why I’m going in, ma’am.”
“Yeah, it’s because you have a death wish,” she fired back.
All emotion vacated York’s face, his eyes glazing over, trance-like. He drifted, remembering.
“Sergeant York, are you all right?” Elizabeth asked.
“They weren’t afraid of us, that’s for sure. I could sense they weren’t. Even when you shot ’em, they seemed okay with it. No sorrow for themselves, even seemed to get off from the pain. You’d blow one away and another would fill its spot.”
“Sergeant, why didn’t they kill the villagers? Why leave them be for all these years, but kill your men?”
“Shit, who knows? When we reached the village, when we saw their looks—fear in their eyes—we knew they were trapped there.”
“The villagers?”
“They couldn’t leave. Weren’t allowed to.”
“How do you know this?”
“I could just . . . sense it. Can’t explain, but the moment we came in contact with them, I felt sorrow. I felt the misery of their souls,” York told.
“Because of what is in the cave?”
“Yeah, they knew exactly what was there, and were petrified of it.”
“Sergeant, why do you think they let you go?”
“You’ve asked that before.”
“You never answered.”
“I believe they let me go to prove a point. To show who is in charge, maybe. Or perhaps they wanted you to do exactly what you’re doing.”
“What’s that?”
“Sending in more men.”
She hadn’t thought of this. “Why did the villagers tell you? You said it was a boy that pointed the cave out?”
“Yeah, young kid. Same look of fear. Just pointed, did so until he got our attention. Kept at it until we left, too. It was odd. Like he was a statue or something.”
“But why?”
“I think . . . I think they wanted our help. I think the boy, the villagers, they want out.”
“Or for us to do our job, and exterminate the creatures,” Elizabeth suggested.
“Yeah, or that,” York said with a grin.
79
Jeff Rivers rubbed his face, underneath his left eye swollen. His right ear rang, his jaw a bit stiff. Mattered not, though. Came with the territory in his world.
Tap. Tap.
He stood impatient, waiting for her to answer.
Tap. Tap.
“Hold on a sec . . .”
Tap.
“Yes, can I help you?” Elizabeth said, door flinging open. Her eyes widened as she stared at him.
“Hey, Lizzy, how’s it going?” Rivers said with a wide grin.
She slapped him hard across the face.
“What was that for?” Rivers aske
d.
“That’s for causing me drama. You’ve pissed off damn near everyone on this base, and you haven’t been here a day yet. What the fuck is wrong with you, Jeff?” Elizabeth said.
“Who’s pissed at me?” Rivers questioned.
“General Kline, some Major, and pretty much all the Delta guys.”
Rivers laughed.
She slapped him again, this time harder.
“Ouch! Will you stop that?”
“There’s nothing funny about this,” she declared, hands on hips. She raised one, brushing a strand of brown hair away from her eyes, smoothing back her frayed pony-tail.
Rivers loved it when she did that.
“Listen, I can’t help some Major is pissed, okay. Just showing up for duty is all. You’re the one who called me here.”
“Not to cause trouble. I’m not here to babysit you. And look at you! Is that a bruise? Did you get into a fight?”
“I’d call it more of an altercation.”
“With whom?” she asked, her face angry.
“Um, the Delta guys,” Rivers admitted.
“Let me guess, Sergeant Clements?” she asked.
“Yeah, him . . . Thompson, Jefferson, Marcus, and that Hernandez guy too.”
“Oh, really? So, pretty much your entire team?”
“Not Dale. Wouldn’t fight him,” Rivers said.
“I don’t need you pissing off everyone, and I especially don’t need you starting fights.”
“Who started it?”
“You did. What’d you call him? Country Fuck?”
“Hey, he called me Hollywood.”
“Now stop this shit right now!” she said loudly, nearly shouting.
Rivers smiled wide, taking a moment to look her over, to remember the gentle features behind that vicious tone, that angry face. He couldn’t help but feel something erotic about her anger. They always had the best sex when angry.
“How ya been, Lizzy?” he asked, tilting his head, reaching his fingers to gently graze her face.
She slapped him again, even harder.
“Damn, will you stop?” he said, snatching his hand back and rubbing his face. “Can’t you see I got punched there?”
“That’s for leaving without saying bye, you asshole,” Elizabeth said.
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