by Max Vos
Benoit and Stone glanced at each other briefly. From the look on his face, Benoit also thought that this could be the end. Surveying the courtyard full of men, Stone noticed that most were armed, but not all. There was a small contingent of men closer to the front, where the table was set up, who seemed to be out of place somehow, as if they did not belong there.
The courtyard was not that large, so Stone estimated that there were only about twenty-five, perhaps thirty men, including the outsiders. Not all that many. There was a low hum as the men, all but the ones Stone considered outsiders, spoke among themselves. The Marines remained silent, uncomfortably so.
Stone shifted his weight so he was slightly leaning towards Benoit. In a low, hushed voice, he said, “Gun, right, take out right, me left.”
With a nearly imperceptible nod, Benoit acknowledged what Stone had said.
They only had to wait a few more minutes before an elderly man entered the courtyard, followed by Abdul. The elder man was dressed better than most of the others, though still in traditional garb. Abdul seemed to be in a good mood, almost strutting behind the older man.
The elder took the chair behind the table, with Abdul standing behind him, slightly to his right. Another man followed them out, and stood to the left of the elder. He also was dressed better than most of the Taliban men. He was not as old as the man sitting, but older than Abdul.
A hush fell over the courtyard, which became eerily silent. Abdul barked out an order, and Abbas was pulled out from the inside, into the courtyard.
Stone gasped when he saw Abbas’s condition. He had obviously been beaten badly. One of his eyes was black and blue, and swollen shut. Crusted blood was dried beneath and around his nose, which was also swollen, and Stone suspected broken. His lips were also bloodied, and swollen as well.
Abbas was stripped to the waist. Black, blue and purple welts ran all down his back and ribs, and his chest was covered in stripes, where he’d been savagely whipped. His normally pristine pants were soiled, stained in what Stone suspected was blood, one knee ripped out. His hands were tied behind his back.
The guard who had brought him into the courtyard pushed him, none too gently, to his knees in front of the table and the older man. Tears rose in Stone’s eyes when he saw the bottoms of Abbas’s shoeless feet. They also had been severely abused.
The elder spoke. An older man was pulled from the small group of outsiders and brought forward. When he looked up, Stone knew it had to be Abbas’s father. He had the same electric blue eyes. The sad-looking man was then pushed to his knees next to his son.
Abdul looked like a kid on Christmas Day. Stone was surprised he didn’t jump up and down, he looked so excited.
The elder at the table started speaking; he also seemed sad.
Abbas never looked up. Through his one good eye, he looked at the ground in front of him. His father kept his head held high, looking the speaker in the eye, his face emotionless. Blank.
The man spoke for quite some time. Except for an occasional cough or clearing of a throat from somewhere within the group, his voice was the only sound to be heard.
Stone had no idea what was going on, or what Abbas had done to deserve this. He did know that this was serious, and he could only hope that the outcome, whatever it was, would be good.
When the man stopped speaking, Abbas looked at his father and spoke briefly. He then glanced at Stone, his eyes so sad that Stone almost wept. Somehow, Stone knew then what the outcome was to be.
The second man, the man standing to the elder’s left, produced a sheaf of papers, placing them in front of the elder. Abbas’s father stood, and signed several of them. When finished, he stepped back into the small group of outsiders, leaving Abbas on his knees in front of the table.
Stone’s body stiffened. The guard who had brought Abbas out pulled out a pistol. Stone knew the gun was going to be aimed at the back of Abbas’s head. Before the guard could raise the pistol, Stone husked, “NOW,” in Benoit’s direction.
Stone spun around and snatched his rifle from Saaleh’s hands, popped the safety off, and took out the would-be assassin with one shot. Stone heard a grunt, and then another gun going off, set to full automatic. Then Stone aimed for Abdul, catching him in the right shoulder, the elder in the head, and then the second man, dead center in his chest.
Stone also switched to full automatic. Before he got another shot off, he saw Abbas hit the ground, flattening himself. Stone started mowing down men in the courtyard, going from left to right, the opposite of Benoit, who had started from right to left, as Stone had instructed him.
When Saaleh tried to reach for Stone’s rifle, Stone elbowed him to the ground behind him and practically sat on him, trying to keep him safe, while continuing to kill or wound as many men as he could.
Benoit and Stone had taken them by surprise, so most were too shocked at first to react. However, someone did get a shot off, a bullet hitting the stone wall right behind Stone, peppering his back with shards of rock. Not letting that faze him, Stone kept going.
He saw Benoit drop and roll, raising his gun towards those who stood against the same wall behind their backs.
There was intermittent gunfire returned, one of the shots grazing Stone’s left shoulder. A hot, burning sensation radiated from his shoulder, but he couldn’t stop now; all of their lives depended on finishing what they had started, and then getting the hell out of there.
Saaleh had managed to wiggle out from beneath Stone with him not actually noticing. Instead of attacking Stone, he had picked up another gun and was helping Benoit and Stone, taking out more than just a few of his own countrymen.
Benoit and Stone were highly trained soldiers, and both excellent marksmen. It all happened so quickly, it was so unexpected by the Taliban, that the two Marines were able to kill most of them. Those who were not dead were wounded badly enough to be considered irrelevant, at least for the time being.
A crack of gunfire went off right behind Stone’s head, making his ears ring. When he turned around, he saw Saaleh, a smoking gun in his hand. Looking down, Stone saw the man who had been Benoit’s handler with a large hole in his chest, lying on the ground. Blood had spattered Saaleh from shooting the man at such close range. The dead man still had a revolver in his hand. Stone looked at Saaleh, and silently thanked him for saving Benoit’s or his own life.
With his ears still ringing, as if from a distance, Stone heard Benoit yell, “Run!”
Saaleh seemed to understand Benoit. He pulled Stone’s arm, getting him up from the ground. Snapping into action, Stone ran and heaved Abbas to his feet, rushing him inside, with Saaleh right behind.
There were two dead Taliban lying in the hall, where Benoit had already taken them out, as Stone and Abbas crossed the threshold. Only having been to a few rooms in the compound, Benoit rushed towards the kitchen/bathing room. The others followed.
Once there, Saaleh cut the rope that had bound Abbas. When free, Abbas hugged Stone tightly, then Saaleh. They then heard shouting coming from outside, and knew the fight wasn’t over yet.
Saaleh said something to Abbas, almost hysterical.
“He says we need to get to the armory for more ammunition and weapons,” Abbas quickly translated.
Saaleh led the way, turning down another hallway that they’d never seen, and into a small windowless room filled with guns, boxes of ammo, and other weapons, including grenade launchers and a few bazookas.
Standing away from the door, they heard men running towards them. When the enemy soldiers opened the door, Benoit and Stone readily shot them down, one right in the face.
“We need clothes!” Stone yelled as a statement, but also as a question aimed at Abbas.
Abbas quickly spoke to Saaleh, who nodded.
Benoit again took the lead, Saaleh guiding him, Stone bringing up the back, all of them now armed to the teeth. They got to a room where Benoit and Stone were able to find some of their uniforms. Neither pair of their boots was to be foun
d anywhere, nor any other type of footwear, or their pants. The only things they found to cover their lower bodies were pajama-type pants, traditional Afghani wear. The only problem was that they were small. They fit so tightly that it was clear that the Americans were wearing nothing underneath, and the legs came to just below their knees. Had the situation not been so dire, they all probably would have laughed. As it was, they needed to get out of there, and fast. Abbas found each a coat to wear, and then they hurried back to the armory, getting as much ammunition as they could carry, and a few additional weapons.
They could still hear some yelling, so they all knew getting out wasn’t going to happen without a fight.
“We need to blow this room,” Benoit announced. “We need to get as far away as possible, as quickly as possible.”
Abbas translated to Saaleh, letting him be their guide. He nodded, and rushed towards the door.
Benoit picked up a grenade, pulled the pin, and yelled, “Run!”
Following Saaleh and Abbas, Benoit and Stone ran for their lives before the armory blew them all to Kingdom Come. Saaleh led the small group into a room, where he broke out the window. Getting outside, in what appeared to be the front of the compound, they all ran towards several vehicles that were parked there. They were about half way to the vehicles when the armory room blew. Bits of wood, brick and stone fell all around the running men.
A few Taliban rounded the corner before they were able to reach the parking area. Stone and Benoit were able to kill the Taliban without the latter ever raising their guns.
Abbas was going for a minivan when Saaleh shouted at him, pointing to a cargo van instead, and pushed Abbas in that direction. Just before they were able to reach the van, gunfire erupted behind them. Benoit and Stone dropped to one knee and readily handled the few who were firing at them. When they had taken care of them, Stone jumped in the passenger seat. Abbas was already in the driver’s seat, the motor running. Saaleh had gotten in the back and knocked out one of the rear windows, his gun at the ready.
Benoit took one of the grenade launchers and aimed it at the front of the compound. He fired, blowing the hell out of it. Then he took aim and fired another grenade towards the side where the courtyard was, blowing it up as well. He then jumped in the van, keeping the sliding door open, his rifle at the ready.
Abbas floored the van, speeding down the bumpy road, almost dumping Benoit out before the Marine had secured himself.
They barreled down the road for a few minutes, when they noticed a group of men running. Abbas started blowing the horn wildly. Stone thought Abbas had lost his mind; then he suddenly realized that the men were the outsiders who had been in the courtyard, and that they were literally running for their lives.
Stone had not thought about them until that moment. Then he recalled that one of those men was Abbas’ father. Only then did he realize that Benoit must have known they were civilians, and had aimed around them to take out the Taliban in the courtyard. Here they were running for all they were worth, and for good reason.
Abbas pulled over. After the runners saw who the men in the van were, only one of them decided to jump into the van: Abbas’ father. The others refused, thinking they would feel the ramifications if they were caught with the escapees.
Not waiting to try and convince them, Abbas again floored the van and sped down the dirt road, leaving the smoking compound and many dead Taliban behind.
Chapter 14
“Where are we going?” Stone asked Abbas as they all bounced inside the speeding van, holding on for dear life.
“To my home,” he answered, looking over at Stone, a look of concern on his face. “You are bleeding,” he said as Stone looked down at his own shoulder.
“It burns a little, but nothing more,” Stone assured Abbas. “I’ll be fine. Why are we going to your home? Won’t they know that would be the first place you would go?”
“I must get the rest of my family. Also, my sister has a cell phone,” he explained. He clearly was not satisfied with Stone’s assurance about his wounded shoulder, since he kept glancing at it. “Samuel, are you sure you are okay? It is bleeding badly enough that it has seeped through the coat.”
“Abbas, I am fine,” Stone insisted.
Abbas’ father said something, and Abbas answered him, then translated it all for Stone and Benoit. “My father has finally agreed that it is time for us all to leave. He was forced to sign over our land, so there is nothing left to keep us here.”
“I’m so sorry, Abbas. Please tell your father that.” Stone was indeed very sorry. “It isn’t fair your family must give up everything.” Stone was sad that this proud man and his family, who had such strong ties to this region, had been forced out of their home.
Abbas translated this to his father, who only nodded.
It wasn’t long before they pulled in front of a modest but well-kept home. Abbas blew the horn as the van pulled up. He slammed the van into park before jumping out and running towards the door, leaving the van running.
“Stay here, and keep a lookout,” he yelled as he ran towards the house. “We will be as quick as possible.”
Stone, with his rifle at the ready, got out of the van, looking in the direction in which they had come. Then he looked inside the van. “Damn, Benoit, you think you got enough firepower back there?” he asked, as his buddy reloaded the grenade launcher.
Benoit looked up, grinning. “Got as much as I could carry, but hey, look at the kid there.” Benoit nodded his head towards Saaleh. “He picked up that bazooka. Thing is almost as big as he is,” he laughed.
Stone smiled, but it was short-lived.
“I just hope it is enough and we can get the hell out of here.” Stone was worried as he looked down the road. He knew that there was no way that they had gotten all of Abdul’s men.
Saaleh, Benoit and Stone kept a watchful eye on the road, looking for any sign of movement. After about five minutes, an elderly woman and two younger females came running from the house, each carrying a small suitcase. Benoit was loading them in the back cargo area when Saaleh began yelling and pointing down the road.
Hurriedly, Benoit motioned for the women to hurry back into the house. One of the two younger women quickly informed Stone that she spoke English. He only nodded in response, pushing them towards the house.
“Wait until they get closer before you fire,” Benoit said. He tried to convey this to Saaleh as well. “It might not be them.” Stone was hoping against all hope that it wasn’t.
Abbas came hobbling from the house, his feet obviously painful for him. “Is it them?”
“Can’t tell yet,” Benoit answered, never looking away from the road.
As the vehicle got closer, they could see it was a large truck, and that there were men loaded in the back. It was the same type of truck that had taken Benoit and Stone to the compound. The men in the back were waving guns and yelling. It was them.
Benoit grabbed the bazooka off the seat, got down on one knee, took aim, and then fired.
The truck took a direct hit from the bazooka and blew up, flipping backwards in a ball of fire.
Stone looked to Abbas. “You must hurry, get everything that you must have, and get your family out of there.”
Abbas nodded as he rushed back into his home as quickly as he could.
As he walked in the front door his father came out, carrying a suitcase and a box. Benoit loaded it in the van. Saaleh was now standing on the roof of the van, keeping a lookout.
Soon Abbas’s mother and sisters came out. They each carried a bundle wrapped in what Stone assumed were sheets. This also was loaded quickly, and the women got into the van. Soon, Abbas’s father came out with a similar bundle. He also got into the van.
What’s taking Abbas so long? Stone fretted.
Stone ran towards the house to see if there was something that he could help Abbas with. Calling out to Abbas, Stone entered the small home. He followed his voice when Abbas answered. Stone found him i
n a small bedroom. He was loading up a box. There was a suitcase, already packed and ready to go. Stone looked at what he was packing. It was papers and documents.
“Abbas, what are you packing? We need to hurry!”
“These are all my school documents, important papers relating to my family’s life here,” he answered. When he looked up, Stone saw the tears in his eyes. “If there is ever a way for my family to come back and claim what is rightfully ours, these documents will be necessary.”
“Okay, but please hurry!” Stone picked up the suitcase and rushed to the van.
“What the fuck is taking so long?” Benoit was becoming agitated, and for good reason.
“He won’t be but a minute longer.” Stone ran back into the house to carry the box for Abbas, keeping in mind how badly his feet were hurt.
Stone met Abbas coming from the bedroom, carrying the box. It was difficult for him to walk, so Stone quickly took the box from him.
“We’re going to make it, Abbas.” Quickly, Stone kissed him. He was rewarded with a smile from Abbas.
The two men got to the van, with everything loaded up. Abbas once again drove, since he knew the area. It wasn’t long before the loaded van was again bouncing down the rough road.
Saaleh was in the back, keeping a close watch on the road behind them.
“Who has the phone?” Stone asked the small group in general.
“That would be me,” said Abbas’ sister who spoke English. She pulled out the cell phone and handed it to Stone. “Give me a moment and I will get the booster set up; it will help.” She then pulled a black technical-looking box from a bag at her feet. Concentrating, she flipped a few small switches. “Go, it should work now. The phone is a smart phone, so it also has Internet access,” she added.
Stone turned the phone on and quickly dialed a number. It rang, and was answered on the second ring.
“This is Lieutenant Samuel J. Stone, special extradition team, under Commander Anderson in Kabala. I was held as a POW for ten days and have just escaped. I need escort to safe base.”