by Loye, Trish
“Valkyrie, two tangos in my sight.” Sarah’s voice whispered in her ear over her comm, letting Cat know she had the men targeted.
Cat didn’t reply, but held still as the men kept walking toward her. Ten feet now. They seemed to be early twenties. One wore blue jeans and a camouflage vest, while the other wore camouflage pants and a bright red t-shirt. Their turbans hung askew and both cradled assault rifles.
Cat tensed but held still. They obviously hadn’t seen her yet by the way they joked with each other, pushing one another and laughing. The men came closer still, chatting in Hausa. They stopped about five feet away. She could see the way their pupils were dilated. They’d probably taken tramol, the popular opiate of the area.
A scarab beetle about three centimeters long crawled over her hand and then inched under her shirt sleeve. She could feel its legs like a feather touching her skin. She’d been trained better than to move because of a simple insect, but the bug crawling up her arm made her grit her teeth.
The men slung their rifles over their shoulders and unzipped their pants. They urinated while laughing about something. She picked out the words kill, infidel, and face. She thought they referenced someone they’d already murdered.
The men finally finished their business and wandered back to the encampment.
“Close call,” Sarah said.
Cat had pinpointed her location about an hour after dawn. She’d finally seen a slight hump that must have been Sarah’s helmet.
“Copy that,” Cat said. The acrid scent of the urine was still strong. She shifted her arm and pressed it into the ground, crushing the annoying beetle. “I’m radioing the major. The tangos have started to party. It’s time.”
Once she contacted Steve, it was just a matter of waiting.
They watched the camp. The only women were the girls they’d come for. All wore hijabs, probably having been forcibly converted to Islam. Cat only counted five of them. Two tended a large fire where they stirred a pot of clothes boiling in water. Three had gone into the building that Cat assumed must serve as the DFAC–she could still smell pungent herbs and spices from dinner. All five girls had bruises covering them. The rest of the girls hadn’t emerged from their building, though man after man entered and then, after long minutes passed, left again. Cat’s rage simmered with each male visitor to that building.
She would rescue these girls or die trying.
Men began to scurry and shout to each other. Most had wrapped the ends of their turbans across their faces, leaving only their crazed eyes showing. They loaded up on weapons, their shouts becoming louder and more strident. The girls rushed back into their building.
Good, that would make things easier.
One man emerged from the armories building wearing full camouflage, and crossed belts of GPMG ammo strapped across his chest. He waved his rifle and shouted in Hausa, but she could understand “Death to America.” The men gathered around him. He gave a speech she couldn’t hear, which was probably good since she knew it would only piss her off. The men raised their rifles as they cheered and shouted when the speaker was done.
This was obviously the leader of this sect of the Boko Haram. Cat put him in her sights. She hated these crazed fanatics and how they used religion as an excuse for their violence and bloodlust. A single shot and she could end him. She could save lives.
She narrowed her eyes, studying the man. The girls were her mission, not wiping out this insanity. Her mission couldn’t change.
It wasn’t long before engines roared to life and men leapt onto the backs of the pickups, flatbed trucks, and jeeps. Weapons fired into the air, accompanying the shouts and war cries that echoed across the encampment.
The trucks rumbled down the road. They’d left a single decrepit pickup behind. That could be useful. Cat did a scan of the area. Only about twenty to twenty-five men left in camp. The men left behind fired their weapons in encouragement before turning away. A few were already lighting up ganja and heading to the girls’ building.
“Head count,” she ordered.
“Twenty-two,” Dylan said.
“Twenty-three,” Sarah countered. “There’s one on the north side of the DFAC jerking off.”
Cat rolled her eyes. “Anyone spot any stragglers?”
“I get twenty-two,” Marc said. “Though I can’t see jerkoff.”
Zach snorted again over the comms. “How do you want to play it, Cat?”
“Sarah, stay overwatch. Control our movements. Steve and his men will buy us an hour, maybe two. We’ve got to get those girls out and get them the ten miles to the bridge in that time.” She raised her rifle. “Sarah, jam their radio signals so they can’t call for help. Everyone else, fire when you’ve got a tango targeted. Headshots, people. Make them count. Weapons free.”
She sighted her rifle on a man about to enter the girls’ building. She breathed evenly. After she’d exhaled but before drawing in the next breath, she pulled the trigger.
The man fell and lay immobile. The snapping cracks of her team’s rifles sounded. She sighted two more tangos and fired. Two more down. Another by the cooking fire, his gun raised and spraying bullets outside the perimeter. Her round took him between the eyes.
Sarah’s voice, calm and measured, sounded in her ear. “Doc, tango running east to the remaining truck.”
A rifle crack. “Tango down,” Zach said.
“Cowboy,” Sarah said. “Tango running east of the armory will come into your zone.”
“Got him,” Dylan said.
They picked off the men one by one, until only five remained, holed up in their barracks.
“Cowboy and Spooky,” Cat said. “Throw a grenade in that building and take care of them. Doc, meet me at the entrance to the girls’ building.”
She raised up from her position, shedding the ghillie net and racing into the encampment, her muscles protesting the hours of inactivity. She forced them to move and move hard. Now was not the time to groan.
She met Doc at the door. He nodded and she ducked into the building, rifle up, scanning the room. Doc rolled in behind her, watching the other side of the room.
“Clear,” she said.
“Clear,” he said.
They moved as a unit to the far door. Sniffles and whimpers as well as shushing noises came from behind it. A loud boom and screams accompanied gunfire outside. Marc and Dylan were taking care of the rest of the soldiers.
“Spooky, sitrep,” Cat said.
“Clear,” Marc said. “Five tangos down. Coming to you.”
“Valkyrie,” Sarah’s voice sounded urgent in her ear. “We have company. One truck coming. Two miles out.”
Cat swore. “Spooky, Cowboy, greet those guys when they come.” She turned to Zach. “Doc, let’s get these girls out of here.”
She opened the door to the girls’ sleeping room and pasted a smile on her face, though she felt like doing anything but smiling. The girls huddled in one corner together, hugging each other.
“Come,” Cat said in Hausa. “We’re friends. We’re here to help you get back home.”
Cat didn’t speak Hausa well, but when she said the word home, the girls all started repeating it. Their eyes welling with tears, they reached out to her.
Doc stepped into the room behind her. One of the girls gasped and the others retreated, huddling tighter than before. Cat cursed again, inwardly this time. Of course they’d be scared of Zach—a large, muscled black man, a bigger and scarier-looking version of the men who had been raping them for months.
She held up her hands. “It’s okay. He’s a friend. A friend.”
The girls shook their heads and whimpered, their eyes wide with fear.
“Doc, go change places with Ghost.” She keyed her mic. “Ghost, get your ass down here now. I need you.”
Zach took off at a run and the girls visibly relaxed and started asking questions. Their voices were soft at first, then became shrill as they crowded around her. “Wait,” Cat said, then into he
r mic, “Ghost. I need you.”
Sarah finally arrived. The girls seemed taken aback by her sudden appearance. She slung her rifle over her shoulder and started speaking Hausa to the girls.
“Get them outside,” Cat said to Sarah. “We need them calm and able to move fast. This is going to be tight.”
“Valkyrie,” Sarah said softly and pointed.
One girl lay on a pallet. Blood seeped through her dress, staining it from between her legs. She looked at them with feverish but hopeful eyes. The enormity of what they wanted to accomplish pressed down on Cat. Men were coming and more would be on the way soon. These girls limped and some couldn’t walk.
What the hell was she going to do? Why had she thought she could pull off this mission? Had she just doomed her team as well as these girls?
“Valkyrie?” Sarah asked. “Cat?”
Cat blinked. She focused on Sarah’s questioning face. She could do this. She had to do this. She keyed her mic. “Spooky, Cowboy, secure the truck. Doc, sitrep.”
“Not in position yet,” Doc said.
“Roger,” Cat said. She slung her rifle and then bent down to pick up the girl lying on the pallet. She hoisted her in her arms. The girl couldn’t weigh more than eighty pounds, though she looked to be a teenager. Anger swelled in Cat again and the girl in her arms tensed.
“Shhhh,” Cat said, trying to relax her face.
The girl attempted a small smile. “Home?”
Cat nodded. “Home.”
While Sarah organized the other girls, Cat strode to the door with the frail girl in her arms. She stepped outside and froze. The girl in her arms shrank further into them, giving a shrill scream.
A Boko Haram soldier stood before her, his eyes wild, his assault rifle aimed at her chest.
The sun was high overhead. Rhys sat on the outside bench of the MH-6 Little Bird as it hovered over the same infil site where the Black Hawk rested. Rhys, Jake, Scat, and Roddy fast-roped to the ground. The aircrew of the Black Hawk met them, but Rhys had already gotten the sitrep in the air. No one had heard from Cat or her team.
Rhys waved off the aircrew and began to run. He had no idea of Cat’s plan, and he didn’t want any delays before he reached her. Her team would already be at the Boko Haram base by now. And the thought terrified him.
She’s smart.
Not just smart, but incredibly tough. She wouldn’t take on an enemy camp of two hundred men without a plan. She had a good team backing her up. She would be okay.
She had to be okay.
Clouds roiled in the sky, blocking the fierce sun, but sweat still drenched them in the heat. It must be over one hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Rhys and his team ran silently through the tall grass. When they could see the bridge in the distance, Rhys held up a fist. The team halted.
“Scat. Tango on the far side.”
Scattalone unslung his sniper rifle and knelt, bracing his elbow on his knee. Normally he’d lay prone, but the shot wasn’t more than four hundred yards away. “Seen,” Scattalone said. “Yellow.”
They waited until Scattalone could get a clear headshot.
“Green,” he said a moment later.
“Fire,” Rhys said.
Scattalone pulled the trigger. The crack of the shot seemed muffled in the thick air. The guard toppled and fell face first.
“Let’s move,” Rhys said.
The team ran behind him. They crossed the bridge and continued on to the encampment. He’d briefed the others about the layout, but he had no idea what to expect when they got there. Were they running toward a firefight? Would they wreck whatever plans Cat had? Or had her team already been massacred?
No. His woman was smart. He had to remember that.
His woman.
And she was his—his to protect and to help. How dare she leave him behind when she needed him? They would have words when this was over. His jaw clenched as he ran.
She was smart.
His boots pounded into the dirt. He pushed himself to go faster. The others kept up.
She was smart. She was okay.
They drew close to the encampment and had to slow. Most of the trucks seemed to be gone. In the distance, he could see a dust trail where one drove back to the camp.
A loud boom sounded from one of the buildings.
“That was a grenade,” Roddy said.
Rhys saw Zach running as if hell were on his heels, toward the perimeter.
“College, head off that incoming truck. Roddy, go south. Scat, you’re with me.” He started running to the center of camp.
A shrill, high scream stopped his heart.
CHAPTER 21
The scream still echoed as Rhys raced through the camp, passing sprawled bodies of Boko Haram soldiers on his way. He tracked movement but didn’t see Cat anywhere. Jake moved to the truck parked on the east side of the compound. Roddy ran to the south perimeter while Scat stayed by Rhys’s side.
He ran to the girls’ building, knowing that’s where Cat would be. It came into view and fear clamped his chest like a vise. Cat stood with a small girl in her arms, unable to defend herself as a man in a turban raised a rifle to shoot her.
A cold and calculating calmness overtook him, focusing his every sense on the scene in front of him. He didn’t say a word, but stopped, raised his rifle, and took the headshot.
The man dropped and didn’t move.
He caught Cat’s gaze then. It was like a wall broke open. Emotion rushed through him, anger and fear swamping him. He strode to this woman who drove him insane, not knowing what he was going to do. She still clutched the child to her chest, her eyes wide and lips parted.
He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to strangle her.
He shook his head, trying to sort himself out. “We are going to talk when we get out of this.”
Her mouth opened, but the other schoolgirls and another operator came out of the building, interrupting her.
He turned away, scanning the encampment for any further hostiles. “Save it,” he said. “We need to get these girls out of here.”
She nodded, but as she passed him she whispered, “Thank you.”
His grip tightened on his rifle at the thought of how close he’d come to losing Cat before he even really had her.
He ground his teeth together. Now was not the time. He had a mission.
Cat carried the girl to the last truck in the encampment. Marc stood guard while Dylan sat behind the wheel, the truck idling.
“Doc, how close is that returning truck?” she asked Zach, who stood overwatch on the hill.
“Two minutes out,” Zach replied. “We could lose some girls if it turns into a gun fight while driving.”
Zach was right. If they all got on the truck and the other soldiers chased them, firing into the open bed, then they’d end up with casualties. She caught sight of Jake running toward them with two more hard-faced men flanking him. Rhys must have brought his old SEAL team. A plan ticked into place and she keyed her comms.
“Doc, get to the vehicle. You’re in charge of the team. Drive those girls to the exfil and call for a medevac to meet you there.”
“What about you, Valkyrie?”
“I’m staying behind with Lucky and his team. We’ll take care of these tangos and then follow in their vehicle.”
“Roger,” Zach said.
Cat helped the girls load onto the truck bed. Marc and Zach hopped on as well. Sarah jumped in the front beside Dylan.
“Don’t take too long,” Zach told Cat.
She smiled. “We’ll probably beat you there. My brother drives like a grampa.”
They tore off, headed for the bridge and safety. Cat turned to see Rhys standing tall beside her, his gaze on the approaching truck. “Let’s go,” he said. “Roddy and Scat have taken position on a rooftop and Jake’s behind the barracks.” He started to run to the nearest building, the armory, and she followed. “We need cover now.”
They slid behind the building’s corner just as the tru
ck full of men, shouting and firing weapons, skidded to a stop. Men piled out like ants from a hill, rushing into the encampment. They didn’t run straight at them, so Cat reasoned that the tangos probably didn’t know where they were.
Behind the building, Cat knelt while Rhys stood over her. Both had their rifles trained on the incoming enemy.
“Fire,” Rhys said over the comms.
The team’s rifle shots mixed in with the Boko Haram soldiers’ weapons fire, so the soldiers didn’t notice anything wrong until their men started falling. They looked around wildly. Some ran back to the truck; some ran to the buildings.
Cat sighted and fired, sighted and fired. She kept it up until she couldn’t find any more easy targets. She felt no remorse about killing these men who had raped and murdered countless children.
“Next move?” she asked Rhys as they scanned the area.
“We need that truck,” Rhys said. “Change your comms to channel 356.”
She did so and the team’s voices filled her ears.
“—can lure them away,” Jake said.
“No, College. There’s two of us. Valkyrie and I will do it.”
“You sure?” Jake asked.
“He’s sure,” Cat said. She didn’t know the plan, but trusted Rhys’s instincts.
Rhys looked down at her and his eyes glowed almost golden with emotion. Then he went back to scanning the encampment. “Give us thirty seconds to get into position and then go for the truck.” He nodded at her. “Let’s go, we’re the distraction now.”
They ran to the girls’ building. Rhys fired random shots at nothing, blatantly giving away their position. She followed him into the building. “Aren’t we cornering ourselves in here?”
“We’ll go out the window in the girls’ room. I’m assuming you took care of it?”
She grinned. “It’s set to blow. Just give me the signal.”
He didn’t grin back and she deflated slightly. “I’m still pissed at you,” he said. “Now tell me what else you’ve set to blow.”