Ren smiled sadly. “You seem pretty perfect to me.”
“No,” he answered. “Don’t see me that way. When I first joined the Army, a few years after basic training, I was stationed in Hawaii. It was a dream life—sun, surf, sand, beautiful women. Then on my first deployment here, I started to lose hope—I was frightened and began to drink. I hated it here and didn’t want to die, but more than that I hated all the depravity I’d seen and the things I’d been forced to do to protect my country. I kept hoping against hope I wouldn’t have to come back, but on my third deployment my base was bombed and the friends I had grown to love and respect were killed. It was more salt in the wound. I was ready to go home—wherever that was. But now I know that I have a reason to fight and to stay. Everything is falling into place now and what I know is that I love you. You have made me realize myself.”
“I am new to this feeling, so bear with me.” She leaned into him. “Thank you for giving me a chance—we both must forgive ourselves for our pasts. I can, if you can as well.”
They decided not to go to their separate rooms to sleep. They only had a few hours to rest, and they wanted to do so in each other’s arms.
Chapter 7
Mark woke Ren with a kiss. “Good morning, sleepyhead!” He had arisen long before the sun to get ready for the day’s mission. Ren didn’t feel like getting up or even moving a finger. She wanted to stay in Mark’s arms forever—or at least just a few minutes more.
“We have to get up—though I could hold you forever, if I had my way. The chopper is ready.”
Ren reluctantly set her feet on the ground and began dressing. “Standard issue?” she asked jokingly.
“Yep, and the best quality too! Meet me downstairs for briefing and a bite.” She hurriedly pinned her hair to stay out of her way. Mark came closer before he went out, gently touching her hair. “You have the prettiest hair and the most gorgeous eyes.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she commented back in light of last night’s confession. Mark laughed and gave her one good, firm kiss on the lips.
“But I’ve only meant it with you,” he said.
Breakfast alone in the dark somehow gave the bacon and coffee an off taste, and Ren was even more silent than usual.
This wasn’t quite how she had imagined going home. She loved her village and had fond memories of her childhood, but she also feared that it would open up her old wounds of pain and sorrow. It would never be the same for her, and it was a life she should have had: walking the streets with her brother, chatting with neighbors, and calling out to friends next door. The happy life of school and kinship was a past that she had to put away. She would never forget, but she couldn’t dwell on those memories. It would never be the same. I can only hope to provide a better life for my children one day, she thought to herself not admitting who she hoped to have those children with.
Ren pushed back from the table and began to adjust her knives, which hung from a belt at her waist. She was tightening her bootlaces when she heard footsteps, and looked up to see an older man enter the room.
“You must be Ren,” he said. “I’m Dr. Lock.” He held out his hand, but instead of shaking hers he merely held it in a warm grip for a few moments. “I can tell you are a remarkable woman.”
“She is,” Mark agreed. “Do you have news for us? We’re about to head out.”
“The news is not good, I’m afraid,” answered Dr. Lock. “We’ve gotten unconfirmed reports that ISIL is already attacking the village.”
“So soon?” Mark replied furiously. “Dammit, we should have left last night!” He slammed his fist against the table, then closed his eyes and took a few breaths to calm himself. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not your fault. Are you sure about your sources?”
“As I said, it’s unconfirmed. And if not for your odd friendship with that militant, we’d never have known this at all. I’m here for anything you need—and I’ll be thinking of you every second.”
Mark and Ren jogged to the Apache, both now entirely focused on the task at hand. There was no room for emotions—only for planning and saving innocent lives.
As they approached the village Ren’s memories came flooding back again. Her father’s voice echoed behind the hum of the helicopter blades. The sight after the bomb flashed. It had been a horrifying sight for a young girl—for anyone—to see. There were mutilated bodies and severed heads. Blood covered debris and mixed with the dust, creating a sticky brown paste. She heard her dad yelling at her to keep moving, not to look back, that they would escape...
She was again brought back to reality as they landed. Mark found a clearing, again a few miles from their targeted location, but this time instead of creeping through the terrain they moved at a brisk jog, ready to face the consequences should anyone hear them. They hoped to find a town preparing to defend itself—but what they found was a town already under siege. Screams and pleas filled the air as militants forced citizens backward into their homes, wielding guns and threatening anyone’s life who moved against them.
Ren heard one voice above the others, and her blood began to boil when her eyes located the man speaking. He was holding a young girl at knifepoint, blood flowing from a knick in her neck.
“We hear you have a very special resident in this town,” he yelled. “A woman warrior, skilled with knives—where has she gone? If you turn her over to us, or help us find her, we may think about leaving your pathetic village in peace!”
The girl’s mother dashed up, sobbing. “Take me instead,” she said. “Do not hurt my child, please!”
“If you help us get what we want, no one will get hurt,” the man said. “Now tell us where the warrior is, and where her American consort is as well!” He scraped the knife slowly down the girl’s cheek, leaving a bright-red half-moon of blood smeared on her skin.
Without thinking for a moment of herself or even of Mark, Ren flung herself forward. She recognized the girl’s mother as a childhood friend. “I am here!” she screamed. “Take me! Just leave these people alone.”
“Show us your hands and waist first, and roll up your sleeves. We need to make sure you aren’t armed.” Shaking, Ren rolled up her sleeves and then lifted her shirt, struggling as she did so to unbuckle her belt of knives. It slid to the dust, and she instantly felt vulnerable.
Smiling, the man pushed the little girl into the arms of her mother. “You are about to regret being born,” the militant hissed at Ren. “Now, where is your infidel lover?”
“Right here!” Mark yelled, firing from the hip at the militant. The man fell to his knees clutching his arm, and as soon as he loosened his grip on Ren she twisted free and ran, pausing only to scoop up her knives.
“Come get us, you bastards!” she screamed as she and Mark ran back in the direction of the chopper, hoping to lead the majority of the militants after them. Mark pulled the pin on a grenade and threw it behind him without aiming as soon as they had moved some distance from the village, but the two didn’t slow their flight till they heard the explosion. Then, they dropped to the ground behind a small hill and aimed, watching. They saw black-robed bodies on the ground, but no movement—“I don’t think they all followed us,” Ren whispered. “Let’s go back.”
The village was now silent—the people were hiding in their homes, and the only sign left of the militants was a pile of camera equipment and a few streaks of blood in the dirt from those they had hurt.
“We have to find Askari,” Mark said in frustration, following it up with a string of swear words to vent his rage. They began to search the houses around the main square one by one, calling out words of reassurance before they entered; but all they found were frightened families, huddling together far from windows and doors.
Mark and Ren, bodies pumping with adrenaline, told the last family they encountered to pass along the message that the U.S. military would be arriving soon, and to lay low. Then, they ran back to the chopper. Mark was fiddling with his radio, trying to ge
t a response to his report from someone on any frequency, when a bullet shattered the window near his. He and Ren both ducked, covering their heads as a rain of gunfire pounded through the window.
When the rat-a-tat of the gun ceased, Ren flashed up in front of the blown out window and hurled a knife out at the first target she saw—her aim was true, and it hit the attacker square in the chest. He fired his gun in the air as his body collapsed to the ground. The two knew these shots would bring more militants their way.
The radio was destroyed, but Mark started the engine, hoping they could get off the ground. They would return to the base to make sure their message had been heard, and then get back on the trail.
Chapter 8
As Mark landed the chopper, he saw Dr. Lock and the master sergeant striding toward across the tarmac.
“We couldn’t get through to you again!” the master sergeant said. “What happened?”
“I’ll tell you quickly,” answered Mark, summarizing the shoot-out and what he and Ren had seen. “Can you send troops there now? It’s urgent—those people must be protected. Ren and I will gather a few more weapons and then get back on the militants’ tail.”
“I’ll send ground troops in immediately,” the master sergeant promised.
Ren pulled out the disc she’d tucked into her waistband. “I took this from a camera before we left the village,” she said. “I don’t know what’s on it, but you might find it useful.”
Dr. Lock accepted it from her and bowed slightly in thanks. It was only when Mark and Ren had taken off into the sky again that Dr. Lock had the opportunity to watch the footage it contained—a militant had been filming the siege of the village and had caught a few moments of the battle between Ren, Mark, and the ISIL extremists. Dr. Lock watched Ren’s lithe figure sacrifice itself to save another, followed by Mark’s fearless attack as he went to her rescue.
“The two are made for each other,” he muttered.
With the master sergeant’s permission, Dr. Lock edited the video down to show only the shoot-out and leaked it to the media, which he knew would run with it—the miracle team of Ren and Mark would be all over TV stations, radio stations, and internet news sites within the hour. It would be the last thing ISIL wanted: for their defeat at the hands of a girl and her American lover to be shown to the world.
Within an hour after that, the master sergeant received permission from the president to hold a special news conference revealing ISIL’s plans for worldwide attacks using weaponized ebola. “I do not say this to scare you,” the master sergeant concluded his speech, standing strong in front of an American flag. “But to warn you and to press upon you the gravity and danger of the situation—ISIL must be stopped. Terrorism will not win at the price of freedom, goodness, and peace. We are doing all we can to apprehend these extremists, and to protect each and every one of you.”
Mark and Ren scoured the ground below from the chopper, receiving frequent radio updates from Dr. Lock about any satellite images that seemed promising, from explosions to convoys to suspicious ground movement. Eventually, though, their walkie mysteriously scrambled and cut out, leaving them without any contacts back at the base. When it seemed that all hope of any back-up was gone, and they were nearing the shore of the Mediterranean Sea, they were shocked to see something huge on their radar screen—it was right below them.
“A jet liner in this area?” Mark questioned. “This is a no-fly zone! How the heck did a commercial plane manage to land here without detection…”
Their jaws dropped down as they passed over the resting aircraft and noticed the block print script on the side of the plane. “It’s Malaysia Air,” Ren whispered. “Oh my God…”
Mark’s mind quickly connected the dots as well, coming to the horrific conclusion: so this was why that flight, missing for over a year, had not been found in the ocean; this was why there were no satellite images or wreckage.
A familiar voice crackled over the radio. “Hello my friends! Nice weather we’re having. Perfect for the next step in my plan. Happy freedom to all my comrades! You two are the most insidious bugs I’ve ever tried to get rid of. Why are you doing this to me?”
Ren could tell from the tone of Askari’s voice that he was pleased, even if the man was pretending to be annoyed. “Yes, you’re surprised. Below you is the magnificent Malaysia flight, repurposed for our glorious cause. We have turned it into a lovely Ebola bomb, surprise, surprise, so we can take out America’s favorite city once and for all. And from there, will the disease spread across the country as people try to flee? Why, we certainly hope so! Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’re about to take flight.” The radio fell silent.
“Can a helicopter shoot down a commercial airliner?” Mark mused. “We certainly couldn’t keep pace with it, or hit it from cruising altitude…”
“Mark, we cannot shoot the aircraft! We cannot take chances. It contains the virus! We can’t risk infecting the entire country!”
“But we can target the wings so it can’t take off at all,” Mark answered confidently “Trust me. This is what I do. We just need to be careful.”
Mark pressed some buttons overhead, and a loud hum enveloped the helicopter. The missiles were armed and ready. He circled the chopper back as the plane began to roll forward, and he aimed the missiles at the right wing. “Shit.” He tried again but still nothing happened. “Looks like our missile system is malfunctioning. Shit! How did this chopper pass its safety inspection?” He slammed his fist down on the button in fury. Ren looked at Mark in dismay.
“You know what we have to do, don’t you?” he asked. “We don’t have any choice—we can’t let this plane leave the country.”
Ren nodded, understanding quickly where his thoughts were going. “We’ll fly out over the sea and crash into it as it ascends,” she said. “That’s the only way we can stop it—there’s no way we can catch up to it once it hits full speed or its cruising altitude.” She was willing to give her life up in a suicide mission, if it meant protecting the world. The beast in front of them moved low and slow across the ocean, heading straight for the U.S. as planned.
Mark radioed out one last time, not sure if anyone could hear them. “Dr. Lock, if you’re out there—we’re about to disable a passenger plane heading for America, filled with weaponized Ebola. I don’t think we’ll make it back alive—tell my mother I love her. My love to you as well.”
Ren put her hand over his on the steering column. “He’s like a father to you, isn’t he?”
“Something like that,” Mark agreed. He was about to add something else when a voice coming from the radio interrupted him.
“Copy loud and clear, my boy. Everyone was alerted—if you can’t disable the plane, rest assured it won’t make it much further—we know the direction it’s headed and will intercept it. Over.”
Ren and Mark looked at each other in surprise.
“Stay with me, Dr. Lock. Just one more thing: I need you to follow our coordinates, in case a rescue is possible.”
“How exactly are you planning to disable that plane, my boy?”
“Crash straight into it,” Mark said.
“Aren’t missiles a better idea?”
“They’re jammed. This is our only hope. Please send help if you can’t find us on the radar. Over.”
"Will do. Good luck! And may the spirit of the Sovereign Order of Monte Cristo be with you.”
“Over and out.”
That was Mark’s last transmission. He placed the helicopter on autopilot and removed their safety harnesses. Ren listened closely as he explained to her how to open the door.
She looked at him with eyes full of emotion—fear, courage, love. “I trust you. Let’s do this!”
“This is our last chance. If we die, we die together.”
He held her hand in his own, soaking in the feeling of her smooth skin, knowing it was likely the last time he would touch her. Ren could only manage a weak smile.
Chapter 9
&nb
sp; Mark and Ren continued to look at each other, then turned their gaze to the airliner, which was picking up speed and preparing to ascend. They knew what to do.
The autopilot began to whistle; the controls let out a warning that the helicopter was flying too close to an object—it should fall back or decrease its altitude. The alarm went on and on, adding to the chaos of the moment with its flashing lights and shrill sounds.
Mark and Ren nodded to each other, then opened the doors and jumped out into the ocean below, Mark clutching a deflated raft in his arms. As soon as their bodies hit the water, the copter flew into the plane’s right wing, causing the Apache to explode into pieces. A few seconds more and the Malaysia airliner followed the helicopter’s fate, plummeting to the ocean below.
Piroz The ISIS Slayer Page 8