by N. C. Reed
But, unable to pinpoint the exact place the shot had come from, Jesse was helpless to act yet. If it wasn’t James, then whoever it was would simply think him another enemy if they saw him and shoot at him. If it was James, he didn’t want to get shot by accident. James was in combat and had no idea he had a friend closer than the school. There was no reason not to shoot at anything that moved near him.
Frustration threatening to overwhelm his common sense, Jesse forced himself to wait.
There was really nothing else he could do.
-
Not realizing that help was literally steps away, James sat completely still, trying to imitate a tree branch.
-
The three men conferred softly via radio. All determined to continue. Closing in from each side, the three of them moved slowly, carefully, and above all, quietly. It was in each man’s mind that one of them would eventually draw fire, giving the remaining two a chance to take the shooter out.
Each was equally certain that he wouldn’t be the one to draw fire.
All were wrong.
-
It was the one called Hoss that came into James’ view first. He was moving so slow that James didn’t actually see him enter the clearing. Suddenly, he was just there. Even the Lab had missed him.
As soon as James saw him he shifted his rifle toward the new target, then held his fire, thinking. If this guy was a decoy then firing might give away his position to the others. On the other hand, the man was walking straight toward him. Shrugging mentally, James lined up his shot.
-
The man known as Clay heard the flat crack of the shooter's rifle followed by something hitting the ground, and was almost certain that Hoss was down. Tim tried twice to contact him on the radio before Clay could stop him.
Clay had heard the muffled crack of a suppressed rifle ahead, but wasn’t exactly sure where it was. He had a pretty good direction for it though, and motioned Tim to follow.
The two moved forward slowly, making very little noise. At this point, neither wanted to return and inform the Boss that not only had they failed to carry out his orders, but almost every man in the detail was either dead, or wounded.
Clay stopped short. He could see that damned Lab, lying in the woods in front of him. Lifting his rifle before he thought, he was about to shoot when he saw a hand reach out of the grass and pet the dog on the head. Smiling grimly, he took a step to the side, then another. There he was.
Clay motioned to Tim that he had located the shooter, and Tim nodded, moving carefully to Clay’s far side. They were intent on their mission. So intent that they failed to realize that as they stalked their target, someone else was stalking them.
-
Jesse couldn’t wait. The two men he was watching could see James he was almost sure, judging from their hand signals. That made them unfriendly and that was really all that mattered.
Snapping his rifle up, Jesse opened fire, his suppressor reducing the sound of multiple shots to a muffled cracking sound.
Clay and Tim died in a hail of silent gunfire.
-
“Wha -” James’ head snapped around at the sound. He hadn’t been able to pinpoint where it had come from, but could see at least one man down from where he sat. He recognized the clothing as the man he’d snapped a shot at in the last ambush.
Well, at least I was counting him in the group, he thought drunkenly.
“James, can you hear me?” Jesse’s soft words traveled to him. James just sat there, sure he was hallucinating.
“James, dammit, answer me!” Jesse’s voice took on an urgent note. Maybe he wasn’t imagining it.
“Jesse?” he risked calling out, keeping his voice low.
“Thank God,” he heard the relief in Jesse’s voice. “Hold your fire, James, I’m coming to you.” Seconds later Jesse entered the small copse of trees where James was hidden.
“Jesus,” Jesse hissed, seeing the shape James was in. The Lab stood, growling.
“Easy girl,” James tugged her tail to get her attention. “Friend.” The Lab turned to him, as if she recognized the word.
“Friend,” James repeated, and the Lab wagged her tail.
“Smart dog,” Jesse commented, kneeling beside his young friend. “Damn fool kid,” he muttered. “What did you think you were doing?”
“Had to buy some t…time,” James managed to gasp out as Jesse slit the pants leg to examine the leg wound.
“Dammit, James, where’s your first aid kit?” Jesse demanded, shrugging off his pack and digging out his own.
“Gave it to the nurse,” James replied. “Needed it more than me, back then.”
“Well you sure as hell need it now,” Jesse didn’t quite snarl. “Are there any more of them?” he asked, pulling an ampule of morphine out and jabbing it into James’ leg, causing James to hiss slightly. That faded as the morphine went to work and the teen’s body started to relax.
“Nah, think I got ‘em all,” James told him. “Took me a while though. But hey! You got a couple of ‘em, didn’ ya?” Jesse almost smiled at the drunken like behavior as he quickly cleaned the wound, and dusted it with blood clotting agent. Taking a trauma bandage from his kit, Jesse slapped it over the wound and bound it tight. James makeshift bandage hadn’t held, and he had lost a lot of blood. The only good thing that Jesse could see was an exit wound.
“Yeah, I got a couple,” Jesse replied. “Got a count?” he asked, not really expecting one.
“Sure,” James nodded, or thought he did. He wasn’t sure. “Lezz see. Kilt six, or was it seven? Anyway, that was yesterday. I think it was yesterday. Yeah, pretty sure it was. Then killed me about, hmmm,” he paused, clearly thinking.
“Let’s get you on your feet, soldier,” Jesse said, meaning every word. He tugged the boy to his feet, slinging James’ rifle over his shoulder first. He gathered their gear, and then slung James into a fireman’s carry.
“I need to start workin’ out more,” Jesse grunted. This was a load.
“Five,” James said suddenly.
“What?” Jesse grunted, moving back along the trail, the Lab following close behind.
“I killeded fives today. Well, maybe six, but one I wanded purpose, so ‘nother take care o' 'im.” Jesse chuckled at James’ drunken, slurred speech. Fatigue, blood loss, and morphine were taking their toll.
“You knows, this first I’m ain’t hurted all days,” James informed him. “Tha’ some goood shiiit.”
“Yeah, it is,” Jesse agreed. “You did good kid,” he added.
“I gots shot,” James informed him. “You knowed dat? I got shotted?”
“Yeah, I know,” Jesse grunted. “You’ll be okay, kiddo.”
“I got shot’m gon’ die,” James said sadly. “S’to bad, too. Goooood lookin’ nurse in’at bunch. I thin’ she liked me. Ever boy wans date a hot nurses,” James rambled.
“You’re not gonna die, James,” Jesse promised him. “You’ll be down for a while, but you’ll be fine.”
“S’ok, Jesse, I alreadys figger it out,” James told him. “I knowned I wa'nt gon’ make it. Bu’s ok cause. . .cause. . .well, don’ ‘member why s’ok, but is. ‘m good.”
“You’re not gonna die, kid,” Jesse stressed, picking up the pace as well as he could. It was still a long way to the Hummer.
“m’kay, you says so,” James mumbled. “Seepy,” he mumbled into Jesse’s shoulder.
“Sleep then,” Jesse told him. “I’ll wake you when we get home.”
“Hm. Home.”
Jesse kept up the killer pace he had set for himself as James fell into unconsciousness. His legs burned in protest, but he ignored it. He couldn’t let up.
“You’ll get a chance to see that nurse, James,” Jesse promised him. “You earned it.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Jesse’s legs burned.
He was humping as hard as he could, considering he was carrying two men’s gear, and had the near two hundred pounds of James
’ weight across his shoulders.
“Got to. . .get to the gym. . .more. . .often,” Jesse gasped out, then realized he was just wasting air. He shook his head at his own foolishness, then concentrated on the job at hand.
His heart was pumping fast enough and hard enough that it was a wonder it didn’t burst from his chest. His legs were wobbly and felt as though they were on fire. His back just plain hurt, as did his shoulders.
Need a training regimen, he thought. We’ve gotten soft, and we can’t afford that. Not in days like these.
He resolved to start one the very minute he got back to the school. As soon as he’d rested, eaten, and got a shower.
And slept for a week.
Very. First. Thing.
Meanwhile, his aching legs continued to eat up the distance to the Humvee.
-
As the group topped a small rise the Widow Mason’s farm, Tom Mackey could see a large army truck sitting in front of the house. He held up a hand, stopping the group.
“What is it now?” Shirley grumped.
“You mind if I make sure that’s my nephew ‘fore we go bustin’ down there and mebbe get shot?” Tom’s voice was acidic. Shirley scowled but said nothing.
“I can’t see anyone,” Melissa admitted.
“Neither can I, but he’s a smart boy. Wouldn’t be just sittin’ out in the wide open,” Tom nodded. “Reckon I’ll head down and make sure it’s him. I’ll sound the horn twice if it’s him. If it blows a third time, it ain’t, so take into runnin’. Reckon you can find the school on your own?”
“I. . .I guess,” Melissa nodded. “But. . .we should all go.”
“And risk gettin’ caught or killed?” Tom looked at her, eyebrows raised.
“If James...” she stopped short, about to say the one thing she refused to even think. “If any of them got past James, then we risk getting caught or killed anyway,” she reasoned. “I’m going with you,” she said suddenly, her voice firm. “I don’t want to stay here.”
“Well, if that’s what you want,” Tom nodded. He looked at the others.
“Melissa and me are gonna go make sure that’s our ride. Rest o’ ya stay put, and keep a look out. We’ll honk the horn happen it’s my nephew, and ya’ll can come on down.”
“Why is she going?” Shirley growled.
“’Cause she wants to,” Tom shrugged. “Reckon you want to risk it, you can too.” Shirley scowled at that, but said nothing else.
“I’m going,” Susan said, her voice more firm than Melissa had heard it since they had met in that awful barn.
“All right,” Melissa replied softly. Tom just nodded.
“Well, let’s head on out, then.”
-
Mackey and his girlfriend, Angelina Martens, were hidden along the eves of the house, watching the roadway and the woods through binoculars. Not only were they looking for Mackey’s uncle, they were also keeping any eye out for Jesse, or James, or both, and for trouble. Trouble seemed to be on the menu today. Well, the last several days.
“We didn’t work this hard in Iraq,” Angie snorted, lowering her binoculars long enough to pull her flowing ebony hair behind her neck and secure it with an OD bandanna.
“Tell me about it,” Mackey snorted, scanning the trees. “I’ll say this much, though. When this outfit decides to do something, they dig right in, root hog or die.”
“Jerome, you know I have no idea what that means,” the pretty Puerto Rican woman replied, rolling her eyes.
“And you know I don’t like that name,” Mackey spat back, disgusted by merely the sound of his given name.
“Jerome is a very pleasant sounding name,” she told him patiently. “It is the name your mother gave you. I like it.”
“And you’re the only one I let use it,” he pointed out, taking the time to smile briefly at her before going back to the binoculars.
“Well, anyway, ‘Mack’,” she ribbed back, “if you mean they go all in, then I agree. I like them. Only good people would willingly take on the responsibility of so many children when none of them are their own.”
“What I figured, too,” Mack nodded. “That’s why I agreed so fast when you asked to come here. I’m glad to be helpin’ out.”
“Helping,” Angie corrected. “Not ‘helpin’. Use your gee’s mi vida.”
“Yes, Miss Martens,” Mack shot back. “You missed your callin’, darlin’, when you. . .hey, I got something. Three people at about. . .seventy meters, comin’ outta the brush.”
“Coming out of the brush,” she chided gently, taking a look. “I see one male, two females. Not as many as I thought,” she mused aloud.
“That’s Tom,” Mack told her. “I’d bet he’s left the rest hid out. He’s cagey. No idea how they managed to take him the first time.”
“Cagey?” Angie asked.
“Smart, cautious, tough, all rolled into one,” Mack told her. “I’m gonna wave at him. Let him know it’s us. How ‘bout you stay here, cover me.”
“Roger that,” Angie nodded, all business now. She hefted her rifle, allowing the binoculars to fall on their strap. Mack stepped out into the sun, lifting his right arm high, hat in hand. He waved it right to left, making a circle. Tom stopped short, then waved in return. He turned back the way they had come, and waved. Tom saw several more people, counting eleven in all, start his way.
“There’s the rest,” he said over his shoulder.
“I see them,” Angie risked a quick look, then resumed her job as lookout.
It took nearly ten minutes for the group to make it that far, and Mack’s impatience bled away as he noted how tired and run down the group looked. There were a couple kids in there too, he noted, and one woman who looked like she’d been put through the ringer.
And Shirley Pippins. He couldn’t help snort in disgust. Of course she’d be one of the ones to make it.
“Good to see you, boy,” Tom grinned, hugging his nephew and only remaining family tightly.
“You too, Uncle Tom,” Mack grinned as he stepped back from the hug. “You look rode hard and put up wet.”
“Feel that way, too,” Tom nodded.
“Can we get something to eat, here, or is this reunion gonna take all day?” Shirley snarled.
“Reckon you can make it a few more minutes,” Mack bit back. “And if you can’t, well. . .you’ll still have to,” he chuckled.
“Jerome,” Angie chided.
“You let her call you...?” Tom’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“I don’t let her, she just does it,” Mack sighed. “Tell you later. Let’s get everybody into the truck and get out o’ here. Once we get back to base, we’ll get ya’ll a hot meal and you can get cleaned up.”
“So there’s no food here?” Shirley asked.
“Shirley, you know where Bethesda school is from here?” Mack asked politely.
“Of course I do!” she snapped back. “Don’t be stupid!”
“You want to ride, or walk?” Mack asked, still polite. Her face purpled in rage, but she said nothing else.
“Shirley, I asked you a question,” Mack said. “If I don’t get an answer, I’ll assume you wanna walk. Right?”
“Ride!” she snapped.
“Then how ‘bout you keep your cake hole closed from now ‘til we get there,” Mack ordered. “Won’t bother me a bit to stop and put you out, you can’t. Got it?”
The woman nodded, his face even more mottled in rage. Mack decided to accept the nod this time. Much as he wanted to keep sticking it to the ornery woman, he had to make tracks.
“All right, folks, let’s get ya’ll situated and get moving.”
Ten minutes later the truck was on the road. Mack wouldn’t feel safe until they were back behind the fence with this group. He doubted they could make another mile.
-
“We should have heard something by now,” Roland said, pacing.
“Jesse said it would take a while for them to walk that far, in the shape they
were in,” Vaughan reminded him.
“It’s been nearly four hours!” Roland exclaimed, pacing faster. “And we haven’t heard from Jesse, or from James!” he added, just for good measure.
“I don’t expect to hear from Jesse until he’s got something to report,” Vaughan shrugged. “He knows he’s beyond our help, Roland. And he’s a pro. Let him deal.”
Whatever Roland was going to say was cut off when the CB radio squawked.
“Base, this is Tango One. Pickup made, on route,” Angie’s voice came over the speaker.
“Roger that Tango One,” Vaughan replied. “Any casualties?”
“Negative, but they are dehydrated, malnourished, and weak from it. They will need showers, clothing, and food, in that order. Suggest having bottled water standing by.”
“Roger that, wilco. ETA?”
“Thirty mikes.”
“Roger that. We’ll be waitin’. Base out.”
“Roger. Tango One clear.”
“Well, now we know,” Vaughan said, getting to his feet. “I’ll go alert Maria.”
“Fine,” Roland nodded. Still pacing. Vaughan just shook his head as he left the room.
-
Jesse was sure his lungs were going to explode. Anytime now. Kill him for sure.
Unless his legs gave out first, of course. Then he would probably survive, lying on the ground until he could move again. Say. . .day after tomorrow.
But James would die. Knowing that kept Jesse moving long beyond what he really felt he was capable of. The last thing he wanted was for this boy, no, he corrected himself, this man, to die because he gave up.
He wasn’t going to give up.
But he was slowing down, and nothing he could do could change that. He was carrying over three hundred pounds of man and gear, and it was starting to show. He legs wanted desperately to stop and let him collapse to the ground. He kept them going by sheer force of will.
His back ached so much that it had become a focal point of pain. No matter what he thought of, his back was in the forefront of his thinking.