Fifty minutes later and Comstock, Jefferson and York felt the ground beneath them level out. They were on the canyon floor, each tucking away behind boulders, finding cover and scanning the surroundings.
Comstock looked to his right, seeing the silhouettes of the four also taking cover. He looked left, saw Hernandez and Marcus doing the same.
“All right, eyes on,” Comstock said into his mic. “We’ve got four hundred meters to the village and no cover until then. Let’s take a few minutes and keep eyes on. Sun will be down soon. The darkness should conceal us,” Comstock said.
And they waited.
95
“Fucked up they left ’em,” Jefferson whispered to York, leaning in close, shaking his head. “Nobody gets left behind. Nobody!” Jefferson was a man of honor, of integrity, and he could never excuse such actions, no matter the reason. Perhaps he was short sighted, perhaps naïve, but that didn’t matter to him. Jefferson believed in the motto, he believed in the brotherhood of 1st SFOD-D.
“Yeah, man, tell me about it,” York replied. “Don’t think for a second I didn’t try, bud. I fucking fought a dozen Marines over the matter, though I guess it wasn’t their fault.”
“I’d do the same, brother.”
“Then some men came—private contractors. They fucking black-bagged me, stuck me in a room. Strapped me to a bed, man! Fucked me up real good. But still, I fought. I just needed to reload. Shit, I was planning on walking back but they wouldn’t let me out,” York explained.
“It ain’t right,” Jefferson said. “You get some shots in, eh?”
“Fucked ’em up pretty good,” York said, a glimmer in his eye, grin on his face. “Still . . . shouldn’t have gone down like that. We should have gone back in.”
“Yeah, brother,” Jefferson acknowledged, nodding his head. He felt sympathy for York, an overwhelming urge to help the man, feeling his sorrow as if it were his own. “Damn them for not going to get your team,” he stated.
“They wouldn’t do it, bud. And McClain and the rest of the boys were ready. Amped up for a fight, ya know? Kline took over, called the shots. McClain argued and the next day he and his boys got sent bye-bye. For the next few weeks, I was the only Delta on base. Until you boys came, that is. I didn’t even know ya were here until that Elizabeth gal talked to me.”
Jefferson paused, staring at the landscape, the sun still high in the sky. He looked back to York, saying, “Tell ya what, brother . . . we’re gonna find your men. Maybe alive, ya never know,” he offered.
“I appreciate it,” York began, “but I know they’re dead. I accepted that already.”
Jefferson eyed him, asking, “How do you know, man?”
“Once you see them . . . these things, you’ll know too.”
“Can we . . . can we kill ’em?” Jefferson asked softly.
“Yeah, bud, we sure as fuck can.”
“Then how do you know your team is dead?” Jefferson asked.
York turned, staring at Jefferson, his eyes wavering on the brink of tears. “I saw it all. I saw what they’re capable of. I saw what they did . . .”
Jefferson nodded, his face grim. “That’s fucked up,” he muttered.
“. . . you don’t know horror ’til you’ve seen ’em.”
A paused ensued, a moment of silence.
“What’re ya here for?” Jefferson asked.
“Payback,” York replied.
“Hooah!” Jefferson replied, his mouth wide, grinning. “I’ll help ya, brother. I’ll help ya get some.”
York nodded, again fighting back the tears.
“What are they like?” Jefferson then asked. “What are we really up against?”
Even Comstock turned at Jefferson’s words, looking back to York as the man replied.
“I have nothing to hide. No secrets to hold from you. I’d suggest taking your team back, pulling out. Let me go in, alone.”
“Not gonna happen, brother,” Jefferson said.
York nodded, saying, “We’re up against the very demons of hell. ’Cause that’s what they are, ya know? They’re demons.”
“Fucking demons,” Dale said, slowly shaking his head in denial.
“Demons,” York repeated. “They’re big, bigger than Clements even. They’re strong, move fast. They don’t care to shoot, either. It’s not that they can’t, they simply choose not to. You’d think that’s a good thing, but it’s not. What they like to do is rip you open, start eating while you’re still alive . . .” York trailed off.
Eyes wide, Jefferson asked, “Say that again?”
“They’re like animals, but smart. Different. I know this: whatever was human in them is gone now. Long gone. Don’t think for a moment they’re anything but demons. You can’t hesitate, not even a second.”
“You said they can be killed,” Jefferson said.
“They can. A few rounds in the chest will do the trick. We’re going to run out of ammo, so I’d suggest being conservative. Head shots are better.”
“Head shots? You telling me we up against zombies or something? That’s insane, man,” Jefferson said, bewildered.
“It is. But they’re worse than zombies. Don’t think about the movies, bud, just smoke ’em. There will be hundreds, maybe thousands,” York replied.
“That Russian gal said . . .”
“Don’t care what someone says, I was there. Saw ’em, and trust me when I say, we’ll run out of ammo,” York replied. “Remember to save one for yourself,” he added.
“Fuck man, whatever,” Jefferson muttered. Like Dale, he could hardly believe his ears.
“Don’t ignore it. Darkness resides in the heart of Khost. They move quick, real quick. They blend in like chameleons. One moment there’s nothing, the next they’re standing in front of you.”
“How do we win this?” Jefferson asked.
“That’s the million dollar question now, isn’t it?” York replied, madness in his eyes. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and catch ’em in the open, though I doubt it. They’ll be in the cave. That fucking cave! It’s their home, their lair, and it’ll be their advantage. They can blend into the walls, they’ll come from the ceilings, from around corners.”
“This cave that big?” Jefferson asked.
“Huge. Don’t expect anything less. Lots of spots they can hide. If there’s a shadow, expect one of them. There are many tunnels, large rooms. Huge! Expect full darkness. Expect them to see you before you can see them. Expect they’re everywhere, because, bud, they sure are.”
“Well, fuck it,” Jefferson replied. “It’s why I brought ol’ Betsy,” he answered with a grin, reaching back, petting his AA-12 automatic shotgun.
“I don’t expect to make it out, but I hope we’ll get a few. That’s all I really want. I prayed for it for the past three weeks, hoping God would give me the chance. I just want the chance to get a few before they get me,” York said.
“Damn, brother—stop being all depressed. We’ve been in some heavy shit before, no reason we can’t make it out.”
“You’ve never been into a place like this,” York said.
“We’re Tier One, best in the world,” Jefferson said.
York looked back to the giant black man, staring wildly, measuring the man up. Jefferson was a man not to be reckoned with, but York felt no intimidation. He sighed before saying, “You don’t get it, do you?”
“S’pose not,” Jefferson replied.
“We’re all going to die here,” York said. “We won’t see our families again, we’ll never see the sun rise again. We’re all going to die here in Khost.”
96
“Now you listen to me,” Dale Comstock said, finger pointed at York’s face. “Stop talking such nonsense. We all know there’s a chance of dying. We accept it, but you’re talking crazy. Keep it up and I pull you from this mission.”
York eyed him, saying, “Sergeant, ain’t nothing gonna stop me from doing this. But don’t worry, I’ll do my part, cover my angles, watch your
backs. I’m still Delta. Just trying to warn you is all.”
“What sort of warning is that?” Dale asked.
“In case you have some amends you need to account for,” York replied.
Dale couldn’t understand this. He wasn’t the sort of man who accepted defeat. Sergeant Comstock felt that’s exactly what this was, and he’d have no such talk. Not during a mission, especially.
“Look, don’t worry about my soul and just do your job,” Dale commanded. “We’re going toward the village. Spread out, move slow. We need to cover about four hundred meters and do it quick.”
“Roger that, Sergeant,” York replied.
“There anything else?” Dale questioned. “Anything about the village that might help. Something you noticed, something that might be useful?”
York took his eyes off Comstock and gazed into the distance, eyeing the village. His voice was sad, almost dreamy, saying, “Yeah, there is something I noticed.”
“And what’s that?” Dale asked.
“The villagers. There’s aren’t as many this time.”
“How can you tell?” Dale asked. “I see plenty of movement.”
“I just know. I think those fucking things snatched some. I think they came and took a bunch.”
“After all these years, why?” Dale asked.
“Well, Sergeant Comstock, I think we pissed them off,” York replied. “I think they took their wrath out on that village on account of us.”
“Us?”
“Invading their territory, their home.”
Dale shook his head, quietly observing the wide valley, eyes scanning the hills, the boulders and plants, the village walls and buildings within. He didn’t say a word.
But York did. He whispered, though both of his teammates heard.
“It’s only dying,” York mumbled. “It’s just dying . . .”
97
Delta Five and Six moved swiftly. They each carried the same weapons—M4s in their hands, MP-5s for close quarters, inside the cave. They carried pistols also, Glock .40 caliber, and as much ammo as they could carry. They had little rations, enough water and some protein if needed, but nothing else. Every pocket, every inch of their body and inside their packs were filled with ammo.
Hernandez and Marcus had served together for awhile now. They were a great team, a duo that worked as one, knowing one another’s movements as if their own.
Delta Five would cover as Six moved. Twenty meters, then Marcus would stop, assume kneeling position and cover for his teammate. A leapfrog, perfect tandem movement, Hernandez would hurry past, tapping Marcus’ shoulder as he passed.
On and on, they moved as a single unit.
Normally, Delta would have stayed together. Nine going in, their force would be their numbers. But Dale had chosen to spread them out as they swept the village first. They had to, there was no other way. Only a western insertion was possible, therefore they’d have to enter the village.
Dale decided to break them up. Three teams. One would cover the northern side, one on the south. Dale, Jefferson and York would move straight in. This wouldn’t normally be to their tactical advantage, but since they’d lost the asset inside the village, they needed to see all parts of it.
It was something Dale didn’t like, but he knew he must think outside the box—asymmetrical.
His specialty.
The pair reached the northwestern corner of the village, ahead of the two other teams. They posted up against a low stone wall. They were fifty meters from the others, and began scanning the village, seeing movement, watching their angles.
“Delta One, this is Six. We’re at the village,” Marcus said into his mic.
“Roger that,” Dale replied. He continued, “Sierra Bravo Four, this is Delta One. Do you have eyes on Five and Six?”
“Negative,” Reynolds replied quietly. “I have zero visual.”
“Roger that.”
“I can switch positions, but this is my best line of fire,” Reynolds added.
Dale thought a moment before responding, “Hold your position. Delta Five and Six can handle themselves. We’re approaching the village, over.”
“Roger. Sierra Bravo Four out.”
*
Hernandez and Marcus remained still, watching as the other two teams found position. Now all nine were on the western wall, watching, waiting. They had been swift, but the sun arced in the sky, beginning to drop westward.
They needed to hurry.
Once the other teams had reached position, Hernandez and Marcus moved on. They hustled down the northern stone wall, this time Delta Five, Hernandez, leading. The wall was five foot tall at best, shorter in some spots, gaping holes and cracked openings every so often.
They’d move ten meters and stop. They’d scan the villagers, keeping count, looking for any signs of threat. For the moment, they remained unseen and safe.
Hernandez peered around the corner of a broken piece in the wall. He stared up a long alley, then back up the wall. He noticed the stone lessened the farther east they traveled, and pointed up the alley to Marcus.
Marcus nodded his head, agreeing.
They’d have to enter the village.
They remained silent a bit longer, ever-careful before they entered. They watched the alley, looked down it, seeing the occasional passing of an Afghani.
No weapons.
Yet.
Hernandez sniffed the air. His nose tingled. Marcus smelled it too. They knew that smell quite well.
Death.
They remained seconds longer, no visual on any threats. They moved in. They crossed ten meters of open space, tucking inside the alley. It stretched far, and was narrow. It ran the length of two buildings, seemingly to a larger pathway that cut through the village.
The pair entered, moving slowly, Delta Five in the lead, Delta Six watching their backs.
Halfway now. The pair knew something was wrong. The people seemed scared. The two could sense it, could see it in their motions as they hurried past the shadow of the alley.
They hadn’t been spotted, they knew this. They were good enough to keep hidden. Something else was causing the tension, which was thick at the moment. It’s a good soldier’s natural instinct, especially those from The Unit.
They moved closer and closer, nearing the end. They stopped ten meters shy, observing. There was a wide path in front of them, many people hurrying past. Hernandez and Marcus heard their voices, though hushed, for they talked little.
The villagers knew something they didn’t.
They knew it was impossible to keep them out.
Still, the people inside the village went about their business, for chores were needed to be done, daily life must continue despite what had happened. They did so, jumpy and nervous.
98
Five and Six posted, silent and deadly. They watched as people scattered, talking little, and if so in hushed voices. The villagers hurried along, preparing themselves to go into their homes, lock themselves away. The people knew nothing could keep them out, but the busywork helped ease them some.
Hernandez and Marcus found a gap when nobody was looking, and darted farther up the path. They found another alley, took a left, and hurried along to a less crowded roadway. Again, they posted. They were halfway through the village, now. Halfway there.
Then, to their surprise, the villagers began to panic.
*
“This is Sierra Bravo Four,” Reynolds said, body stiff, the anxiety in voice obvious. “Listen up, guys, we got movement. Lots of it. Looks to be three or four dozen shapes, can’t tell what they are. They’re moving quick, though. Headed from the east, bearing on your position, over.”
“Roger that, Sierra Bravo Four” Comstock said into the mic. “Eyes on. Think we may have a bit of trouble.”
*
Out of the night, out of the shadows of the most dreaded valley in Khost, they came. Hordes of them, crossing the plains, seeming to not touch the ground over the six hundred
meter distance. They raced toward the village, spread out in small groups. They kept quiet, the silence of the night would give them away, not that it mattered.
As they neared, though, they couldn’t refrain from clacking their teeth. The creatures were excited, for they were hardly ever allowed on hunts. Their anger grew over the years as they aged, and occasionally one of the younglings would even challenge Ahmed. Most knew their place, but even these whacked out creatures could act like a hormonal teenager. Hormones and testosterone overbearing at times, but this was their chance, and they hurried to their prize. They needed this, and raced as if in panic, for the possibility of Ahmed calling them back might happen, and they didn’t want to miss out on the taste of fresh blood.
The pack grew near.
600 meters.
500 meters.
They gnarled their teeth, foam forming at their wide mouths. Their long arms dangled, dragged behind their running bodies. Their long fingernails clattered on the rocks below.
400 meters.
300 meters.
They chomped their mouths open and shut, over and over again. Their eyes slanted, their breathing heavy as if in great ecstasy.
200 meters.
100 meters.
Then, one screamed, filling the quiet night with a blood-curdling sound. One that none in the valley would forget.
They were upon the town, and with them a great wrath followed.
They filled the night with their screams of pleasure as they sought their prey.
They came.
99
“What the fuck’s that?” Hernandez asked, looking at his partner with wide eyes.
“Dunno,” Marcus replied.
It didn’t take long for them to find out. Within seconds, the villagers began to scatter. Some raced down streets, others into the false sanctuary of nearby buildings. Others froze. Many screamed.
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