by Nathan Jones
There were a few times when Trev could've broken free and gone for the 1911 at his hip, but he didn't dare for the same reason. Besides, as long as his enemy was willing to keep it hand to hand Trev was happy to play along. Even dazed and hurting he was still holding his own, and he was confident that he had the strength and speed to win this once he recovered his wits.
His opportunity came a few moments later, when one of his attempts to throw the blockhead off balance by abruptly changing from pushing on the rifle to pulling on it, or vice versa, finally paid off. The man stumbled on a root and started to go down, cursing, and Trev yanked the weapon free as his enemy scrambled to catch himself.
Then Trev followed the blockhead to the ground, leading with the butt end of the rifle as he slammed it against what he hoped was the soldier's head. He heard and felt the dull thud of hitting something solid, a helmet probably. As the cursing blockhead tried to scramble away Trev swung at a different angle and hit something less solid, and the man went down with a cry.
Trev didn't give the blockhead time to recover. He struck again, then again. Then, as the dark shape below him went still, he felt around until his fingers found his enemy's face and lined up a final, brutal blow.
A hand on his shoulder almost set him swinging wildly with his new weapon, but then he heard Rick's voice. “Easy!” A moment later he felt something hard bump his hands, and his fingers closed around his night vision goggles.
Trev hastily pulled them on, relieved to see that they didn't appear to be damaged. But there was no time to celebrate as the sounds of gunfire continued around him. He looked around to see his other two teammates behind the inadequate cover of the evergreen trees not far away, huddling away from gunfire that seemed to be coming from everywhere. He also saw the bodies of two more blockheads, both shot.
So much for stealth. “We can't be far from the canyon now,” Trev called as loudly as he dared over the noise. “Make a break for it! I'll cover your backs!”
He suited his words by finding his M16, tossing the blockhead's rifle away when he did. He wasn't about to try to bring it along in this situation. As soon as his familiar weapon was in his hands he ducked around an evergreen, moving in a slightly different direction than his team as they bolted past him.
It didn't take long to find a muzzle flash. Trev sighted on it and fired a burst, then immediately threw himself away as the enemy gunfire zeroed in on him. He ducked between a few more evergreens, glad they were so closely spaced, then circled around one and found another target to shoot.
By some miracle he didn't end up full of holes as he repeated the process a couple more times. At that point, content he'd given his team time to get away, he began weaving southward through the trees to get out of there himself.
Before too long he found himself in the tangle of scrub oak again, his progress slowed and gunfire still flashing all around him. Trev threw himself against the grasping branches, grunting in pain as one slammed into his side. It would've stabbed right into him without his body armor. He determinedly spun around it and kept going, stumbling into more branches before he got his feet back under him.
He barely had the focus to do anything but keep going, but he still took the time to toggle on his mic. “Whoever's in the canyon, we're almost to you. Do us a favor and don't shoot us, and if you're feeling generous maybe you can shoot at the people shooting at us.”
Tom's voice replied, sounding winded. “We're about there, too. Actually I think I see you guys! Let's group up and-”
A sharp blow on Trev's lower back made him stumble and fall. For a moment he was afraid that was it for him, but he could still move his legs and he didn't feel any blood spraying. It looked like his body armor had managed to catch that one too, although it hurt a ton.
He threw himself up and kept going. “Don't stop for anything! Just get to the canyon!”
Less than fifteen seconds later he reached the edge of the thicket, so suddenly he actually stumbled out into the open. Up ahead he could see some of Davis's Marines peering out from behind cover, thankfully not shooting at them. In the fifty or so yards of clear space between the safety they offered and the thicket, what was left of Trev's squad was running flat out.
Trev spared just enough time for a hasty glance over his shoulder, catching sight of a few muzzle flashes and the shapes of enemy soldiers among the scrub oak, then followed the others towards safety. It took most of his focus to remember to veer and dodge, rather than just making a beeline for the cover ahead.
The Marines abruptly started firing, but thankfully not at him or his people. In the thicket behind him the enemies that had been chasing them had started opening fire on his squad, and the Marines were doing their best to provide cover fire.
It wasn't enough.
Trev could only watch helplessly as up ahead Alice screamed in pain and went down hard. Then, as if in a nightmare, he saw Rick and Tom skid to a halt and turn back for her, right out in the open and under enemy fire, and now moving in a predictable line to boot.
Tom barely made it halfway before twitching under the barrage of enemy weapons fire and falling with finality. From the way Rick jerked and stumbled as he fell flat next to Alice it looked as if he'd been hit too, right at the last second.
Screaming wordlessly in grief, Trev shifted his own course to join his friends. As he ran the Marine's efforts finally paid off, and the gunfire behind him abruptly slowed to a few isolated shots. That left him and Rick clear to pick up a dazed Alice, and the three of them stumbled forward. They were so close to cover he could practically reach out and touch it.
His squad reached the mouth of the canyon in ones and twos ahead of them and took cover, joining the Marines in laying down cover fire for the people coming behind. Trev, Rick, and Alice arrived last of all, and at Trev's urging limped right on past the Marines and their squad mates and kept going up the road.
Behind him a soldier, Abrams he thought, shouted for the others to follow in an orderly leapfrog retreat. The Marines stayed behind, covering them as they limped up the canyon, each step taking them farther and farther from the nightmare.
Chapter Nine
Recriminations
Only a few steps up the canyon ahead of them, Mason Priscott collapsed clutching his side.
Trev wearily looked for someone in his squad to carry the man. He only counted six of them left of the eleven who'd taken part in the ambush, many in bad shape. Rick was barely on his feet and Alice was worryingly unresponsive, so he couldn't go himself.
A uniformed figure abruptly passed by them to hurry to the wounded man and get him to his feet. Abrams, looking back at them urgently. “There's a truck waiting up beyond where we took out the road. We just need to get that far.”
A truck. Things really must've gone south if Davis was springing for a vehicle, even to go only a couple miles along the twisty, circuitous road between the two canyons. Of course he didn't need a truck to tell him that.
“My squad mates,” he mumbled. “I left five people back there. They might still be alive.”
“They might be,” the Marine said, unconvincingly. He looked over his shoulder. “Get your people back to camp. If the blockheads stuck around we'll clear them out, and we'll make sure to bring our people back, too. We'll hope they're alive, but even if they're dead they deserve a proper burial.”
Trev nodded dully as the Marine continued to lead the way up the road supporting Mason. But in the back of his mind a cynical thought popped up; Davis hadn't sent a team out to help them, but he was willing to send one to gather up the gear from the enemies his squad had killed. And his priority was probably recovering the night vision and other valuable gear from Trev's squad mates, not their bodies.
He immediately shoved that thought down, feeling even worse. Davis and Abrams were both good men. Even if the private was out there doing both those things, there was no reason he couldn't be there for more sympathetic reasons as well.
Sometime during his conv
ersation with the Marine Rick and Alice had exchanged roles, and now it was the younger man who could barely walk as the blond young woman supported him. Rick was trying to talk to her, but in spite of the fact that she was supporting a lot of his weight Alice wasn't responding, as if she couldn't hear him. Shock?
Trev hurriedly left Alice's side and moved around to support his friend's other shoulder, and was alarmed to find it soaked with blood. Rick yelped in pain when he did, and Trev hastily reworked his grip to support him around the chest instead. “How bad?” he asked.
Rick spoke through gritted teeth. “Aside from you yanking it around? Just great.”
That obviously wasn't true, but Trev let it drop for now as he looked past the younger man. “Alice?” She didn't respond, and he had to repeat himself twice before she finally looked over.
“It hit my vest,” she said dully. “I'm fine.”
“Thank God,” Rick said. “Why didn't you just tell me that?”
She didn't answer, and Trev felt his concern for her spike again. The blond young woman might or might not be fine physically, but her mental state was a whole other issue.
Before he could push the matter there was a commotion from up ahead. “Fred? Fred! Where are you?”
It was Susan Donnell. The woman had abandoned her sentry position and come searching for her husband, shouting his name frantically as she ran down the road past her beleaguered squad mates. Trev felt like a spike had been driven through his gut, and on Rick's other side Alice abruptly stopped dead and began to cry.
“No,” she mumbled. “No no no.”
Trev realized the blond woman was still covered with Fred's blood. From when the man had lain protectively over her in their dip in the ground, as she tried to stop his bleeding while he died practically on top of her.
“Hold on,” he said quietly, gently lowering Rick to the ground. Alice went with him, still weeping.
Trev hurried forward to meet Susan, who almost walked straight by before recognizing him. “Trev?” she said frantically. “Where is he? Where's my husband?”
Trev couldn't see her eyes behind her night vision, but he did his best to meet them anyway. “I'm sorry, Susan. Fred was hit near the beginning of the ambush. He didn't make it.”
“What do you mean, he didn't make it?” she demanded. “Where is he? Why didn't you bring him with you?” Trev stared at her helplessly as her shoulders began to shake and she swayed on her feet. She half fell against him, pounding his chest with her fist. “Why, Trev? What happened to “no man left behind?”
He reached out to catch her, and her anger abruptly vanished as she slumped against him sobbing. “Why, Trev?” she kept repeating.
Rob Jonas materialized from the road ahead, and Trev gestured for him to help Rick and Alice as he started up the road, still awkwardly holding Susan and guiding her along. His back hurt fiercely in the two places he'd been shot, but neither injury could come close to matching the pain in his chest.
The nightmare walk up the road, awkwardly climbing over the pile of debris where the explosives had taken it out, seemed to take ages. But it was a vast relief to see the truck parked on the other side, a handful of Davis's medics beside it. They were already working frantically, helping Trev's squad mates get inside or seeing to their wounds.
It was less of a relief to see Vernon and most of his men also standing there, almost but not quite blocking his path to the vehicle. The former sheriff stepped towards him as he and Susan approached. “Still alive after your idiocy, Smith?”
Leaning against his shoulder Susan hissed in outrage, and Trev's blurry vision briefly went blank with pure rage. He had to clench his jaw around the obscenities he wanted to shout at the man, biting his inner cheek in the process, but he barely felt the pain as he urged Susan on towards the truck and stepped around Vernon.
The former sheriff stepped back slightly. “Luckily I called for a truck,” he said, still trying for his jovial tone.
Vernon obviously expected him to be angry, but even so he was caught by surprise when Trev let Susan go and crossed the remaining distance between them, punching the former sheriff full in the face as hard as he could.
The man went down hard, struggling to get back to his feet but too dazed to manage it. Meanwhile his men surged toward Trev, pissed off and cursing. Trev's squad started forward to protect him, and things looked only moments away from getting ugly.
“Wait!” Vernon shouted in a slightly nasally voice. His men paused, only for a moment, but that was long enough for the former sheriff to finish hauling himself upright. His nose was streaming blood and his eyes glittered as he glared at Trev.
“Haven't we been through enough tonight without that?” he demanded.
Trev had to restrain himself from throwing another punch. “You haven't been through anything,” he snarled, “you left us to die!” His squad mates shouted in agreement, Susan loudest of all.
The sheriff fumbled in his pocket for a bandanna and shoved it against his face. His reply came out a bit muffled. “It wasn't part of our orders.”
“It was a perfect opportunity!” Trev shot back. “If you'd come out you would've been there to deal with the blockheads hiding in the thicket, and five of my people would still be alive!”
“If it was so perfect then it wouldn't have ended up so badly.” Vernon started to walk away, motioning to his men. “It wasn't part of our orders and I wasn't willing to risk my men. I told you so before you went in. This is on your head. Next time don't jump the gun then blame other people for what happens.”
Trev went after him, but he'd only gone a step before Abrams headed him off. “This isn't the time for this, Smith,” the Marine snapped. “Get your people in the truck, now.”
For a moment he stood there, struggling to control his anger. Then he turned and hurried to help Rick and Alice the rest of the way to the truck. The medics immediately huddled around Rick, blinding Trev with their electric lanterns. He flinched away and pulled off his goggles, then did his best to help them get his friend into the truck.
Once they were safely in the vehicle, the last people in, its engine rumbled to life and they lurched into motion. The driver, obviously aware of the injured he carried, did his best not to make the ride too bumpy, although they still drove fast.
Trev left the medics seeing to Rick's shoulder and made his way back to where Alice sat, staring blankly at a very disconcerted looking Rob Jonas sitting across from her. Almost as if she didn't see him.
Trev knelt to put himself in front of her gaze. “Alice?” No response. He rested a hand lightly on her knee and repeated her name.
The young woman finally spoke, in a dull voice that definitely seemed to be in shock. “They came back for me, Trev. I took it in the vest, I was fine, and now Tom's dead and Rick's shot.” Her eyes finally moved slightly to meet his, looking lost. “Why did they come back for me?”
He looked away, unable to give her an answer. If there even was one to give. “We need to check where you got shot,” he finally said.
She didn't seem to hear. “And Fred. He took a bullet dragging me into that hole where I'd be safe, and even then he still did his best to shield me with his body.” The young woman's voice dropped until he could barely hear her. “Did I get two people killed, Trev?”
“No, you didn't,” he said emphatically. “Whatever happened, it's not on you.” He gently squeezed her knee. “Come on. Even if the shot just hit your vest we should still check it.”
She nodded and turned to face the front of the truck. Trev prodded at the spot on her back she indicated, feeling the groove in her flak jacket where the bullet had struck, but no fragments. He helped her remove her body armor and prodded more gently. In spite of her making a slightly pained noise at the bruise there didn't seem to be any real injury. She wasn't bleeding, at least.
Still, he'd want to have the medics look her over as well once Rick and Mason were stable. He just hoped his friends' injuries weren't as bad as they
seemed.
The ride felt like it took no time at all, and before Trev knew it they were pulling off Highway 31 near where the new, smaller main camp had been set up under cover along the canyon's south slope. The medics helped them all out, then while two continued working on Rick and Mason one gathered the rest of the squad up and insisted on checking each one of them, even those who protested they were fine.
“If you're in shock it's possible you might not have even felt something serious,” one said as he motioned for Rob Jonas to take off his body armor. The older man reluctantly complied.
Trev saw Matt and his squad, minus a couple people he assumed were back on the southern slope keeping lookout, heading their way down the hillside. The group was lighting their way with a single flashlight, and Trev squinted into it as he started over to meet them.
The medic immediately pulled him back, probably noticing the stiff way he moved, and made checking him a first priority. Trev reluctantly removed his body armor, surprised to find the motions difficult, and endured a quick checkup as the other Aspen Hill squad reached him.
“I heard what happened,” Matt said in a low voice. “It's . . . I don't know what to say. I'm sorry.”
Trev couldn't meet his friend's eye, but thankfully he could focus on cooperating with the medic as he replied. “We lost five people, Matt: Fred, Miles, Ray, Nick, and-” he cut off to take a sharp breath, telling himself it was because of the fingers prodding at his bruised back. “And Tom.”
Matt's eyes tightened, but instead of responding he just bowed his head in grief. Trev dully continued. “I thought we'd set up the perfect ambush, but they had people we didn't even see. People behind us.”
His friend reached out and caught his shoulder. “You got everyone out, though. That's a miracle in and of itself.”
“Right.” Trev looked away, and after a few awkward moments Matt went over to see how Rick and Mason were doing. The rest of the squad hung back, aside from a few who moved over to give close friends some company. Scott Tillman and Ben Thompson came over and patted Trev on the shoulder, although thankfully neither said anything before going over to comfort Susan, who was sitting on the back fender still crying.