by Bobby Akart
“Help me lay him flat on the sleeping bag,” she continued. “All of this blood loss can cause his blood pressure to plummet. If he’s been complaining about being cold, it’s possible he could be going into shock.”
Morales lowered his body and then he smiled. “Hey, Doc. I’m right here, you know. All that he and him makes me think I’m missin’ something.”
Palmer laughed and then placed a towel under his shoulder. “Okay, mister patient. You lie flat so the blood can circulate to your brain. Here’s a small pillow to keep you comfortable.”
“Much better, thanks,” said Morales.
“Pacheco, keep pressure on the front and rear wounds for me. You’ll need to apply pressure with both hands to keep him from squirming.”
Then Palmer turned her attention to Morales. “I need to get you bandaged up and then wrapped in these horse blankets. Then I’m gonna zip you up in the sleeping bag. I’ve got to move quickly, so I apologize for jostling you about.”
Cooper stuck his head out of the tent and looked outside. “Palmer, if you don’t need us, we need to establish perimeter security. The town may come looking for us, and I’m pretty sure none of us wanna be lyin’ there next to Morales gettin’ fixed up.”
“Good idea,” she said. “If I need anything, I’ll holler. Before you go, will you fetch that warm water in the campfire coffee pot for me? I need to clean his wounds.”
“I’m on it,” replied Cooper. “Send Pacheco when you’re done with him.”
Palmer looked in the small medicine kit included in their get-home bags. There were two large sterile gauze pads, which would be used to cover the wounds after she cleaned them. The smaller gauze pads worked to wipe blood away from the openings.
Then she retrieved two tampons from her backpack. She opened the first one and began taking it apart.
“Hold up!” said Morales, suddenly finding the strength to raise his voice. “What’s that thing for?”
“I gotta plug the holes, mister patient. Deal with it.”
Palmer smiled as she wiped the wound clean one last time and irrigated it with bottled water. After a pat down with a towel, she gently inserted the tampon into his shoulder. Morales groaned in pain.
Palmer moved quickly to apply Neosporin antibiotic ointment around the wound. Then she set into place the large gauze pad before she ripped first aid tape into strips and gently placed them across his shoulder.
“Now I’m gonna do the other side. I’ll need you to roll over.”
She and Pacheco worked together to put Morales on his side. The bleeding had slowed, allowing for a quicker cleanup. Following the same procedure as the front, she plugged the wound, sealed the area with gauze, and then wrapped his entire shoulder by stretching self-adhering bandage tape over the wounds, under his armpit, and back over again until the injured area was immobilized. As she finished the wrapping, she let Pacheco join the others to watch over the camp.
“Thank you, Palmer,” said Morales.
She zipped up the sleeping bag and covered him with the blankets. “Are you feeling warmer now?”
“Yes, much better. The pain is not too bad. It just throbs, and my shoulder feels really hot.”
Palmer rolled off her knees and sat with her legs crossed under her. She took a cloth and wiped the sweat off his forehead. She didn’t like the fever.
“I’m gonna give you some Tylenol. It may or may not help with your pain, but it might bring this fever down. Morales, I’m not gonna lie. You need a real doctor and some antibiotics as soon as possible. All I’ve done is stop the bleeding. That’s the immediate life-threatening problem.”
Morales reached for the water bottle with his good arm, and Palmer gently raised his head to help him drink.
She continued with her honest assessment. “If I thought help was only an hour or two away, I wouldn’t be concerned. We can’t go back to Fort Macleod, and the next decent-sized town is in Montana.”
“I get it, Palmer. I’m gonna die.” His smile told her that Morales was kidding.
“Joke like that again, and I’ll punch you where it hurts!”
“Just kidding! Gee, Palmer. So serious. You’ve fixed me up great. A good night’s sleep and I’ll be ready to ride. It’ll feel better when I’m back in the States.”
The two continued their chat when Cooper reentered the tent. “I’ve got good news. It doesn’t appear that they’re gonna chase us down here. We’ll stay on guard, but as far as I’m concerned, we can hunker down here for the night.”
“Great news,” said Palmer.
“We’ll try to wake up again before sunrise,” Cooper continued. “Will he be able to ride?”
“I’ll be ready, no matter what. Another day or so and we’ll be in Montana. I’m not gonna hold us up. I swear.”
Chapter 48
November 29
Undisclosed Bunker
Pyongyang, North Korea
While military strategists around the globe debated Kim Jong-un’s next move, endlessly exploring ICBM trajectories, payload weights, and re-entry shields, Kim and his top advisors continued with their preparations for the ground invasion of the United States.
As a defensive precaution and a show of strength, the DRPK military positioned a dozen Hwasong-15 missiles throughout the country on their mobile launchers equipped with Kim’s super-large heavy warhead—a hydrogen bomb.
The Hwasong-15 ICBM weaponry system was placed on hair-trigger alert by the military. If fired upon by the U.S. or its allies, Kim vowed not to hesitate. He intended to fulfill his promise to other Southeastern Asian countries to avoid an all-out war. However, if provoked, he warned the total annihilation of South Korea, Japan, and the United States would be achieved.
He’d gathered his top leaders, and his sister, Kim Yo-jong, to be present during the back-channel discussions with the Iranian leaders. The Iranians had been promised the opportunity to attack Israel with its newly procured nuclear weapons and rid the planet of the infidels once and for all. Kim asked them to stand down in order to determine whether a larger nuclear conflict could be avoided.
Kim was walking a fine line between keeping his Iranian partners happy and foolishly entering into a nuclear Armageddon with the Americans. After a briefing from the vice chairman of the Worker’s Party Central Committee, who assured Dear Leader that the entirety of their nuclear forces was ready, Kim instructed his aides to bring the Iranian leadership onto their large-panel monitors in the room.
The conversation occurred through an interpreter.
The head of Iran’s Revolutionary Guard confirmed they had achieved a range of sixteen hundred miles with their missile technology—enough to strike all of Europe. He continued. “We have kept the range of missiles at twenty-four hundred kilometers, but not due to a lack of technology. You have provided us the ability to reach farther points, perhaps even the United States’ southeast coast. However, we are following a strategic doctrine, just as you. So far, we have not seen Europe as a threat to us, so we did not increase, or test, a longer-range missile. However, if Europe wants to provoke us in order to protect the infidels in Israel, or if America participates in any form of retaliatory strike, we will certainly adjust accordingly.”
Kim spoke next. “Your missiles can reach most American forces and interests in the region. They more than cover your enemies, Israel and Saudi Arabia, if they intervene.”
The Iranians were silent for a moment. Suddenly, they all stood as the country’s Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, made his first appearance before Kim Jong-un. Surprised by his appearance, Kim stood out of respect. The rest of his leadership team did as well.
Ayatollah Khamenei took a seat in the center of his contingent, flanked by the president of Iran and the heads of the Revolutionary Guard. Without introduction, he spoke directly to Kim.
“Our people have been waiting for this moment for centuries. Our two mighty nations have worked together to share technology, innovation, and military strategies
. Our promise to you was to distract the American forces who could attack you from the west. At the same time, we stand ready to unleash the wrath of Allah upon Israel. All of our ballistic missiles are ready to launch strikes on the U.S. forces who surround us. However, each day of delay in launching our attack allows the enemy to prepare.
“Further, we have, as promised, committed our new naval vessels to carry your ground forces to North America. These ships will make port in Mexico by tomorrow. The flag of our Islamic Republic flies proud as we escort your elite forces to do battle.
“Chairman Kim, all of our obligations to you are fulfilled. It is now time for action.”
The Ayatollah had laid down their position in less than two minutes. Kim had expected this ultimatum, just not so soon.
“I appreciate your kind words, Ayatollah Khamenei. Do not mistake the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea’s delay as a sign of us losing our resolve. Our forces require forty-eight hours to position themselves for the next phase of the attack on the United States. I understand your frustration, but I ask for your patience as we properly position ourselves militarily and politically with our mutual allies.”
“Chairman Kim, forty-eight hours. Then we unleash our fury on Israel.”
The Ayatollah stood and bowed slightly. Kim jumped out of his chair and bowed in return. The much younger man, who had been in power in North Korea for eleven years, rarely got the opportunity to speak directly with the leaders of other countries. For decades, the rogue state was treated as a geopolitical outcast, tolerated by the likes of Iran, Russia, and China for strategic purposes, but ostracized by the rest.
He was ready to take his place in history, but he needed two more things to fall into place—his commandos must be in place in America, and he needed an excuse to unleash the hounds.
Chapter 49
November 29
Sinmi-do, North Korea
Chae owned two fishing vessels. One was a twenty-eight-foot trawler, which enabled him to go to the far reaches of Korea Bay and, at times, when conditions were right, into the Yellow Sea and international waters. His second boat, a small flat-bottom boat, resembled a Boston Whaler fishing vessel with no canopy. The center console had no dials or gadgets, only a steering wheel, a throttle, and an old dash-mounted compass.
He used the flat-bottom boat for fishing the rivers and inland coastline. The trawler was used for deep-sea excursions. At times, he’d take both toward the Yellow Sea, one to catch black-faced spoonbill or grouper, the other to catch the occasional shortfin mako shark. It was considered a delicacy in North Korea, and a catch was often traded to the DPRK’s port authority for a larger portion of his regular haul.
Chae had a good reputation with the local government officials and was rarely questioned about his activities. He’d learned early on that absolute power corrupts absolutely. By occasionally offering a trophy fish as a gift, he could feed his family better than others and would be given a pass if his haul that day was shy of his expected quota. Chae’s goodwill could play an important role in assisting Sook and Duncan as they attempted their escape.
Chae fired the Evinrude E200 outboard engine with ease. Manufactured in the United Kingdom many years ago, the E200 provided him lots of power for offshore fishing excursions and excellent fuel mileage. The four five-gallon gas containers at the rear of the boat provided him long-range capability when deep-sea fishing.
He took the boat upriver at a steady pace, not wanting to attract the attention of any onlooking soldiers or curious residents who might feel compelled to notify the authorities of Chae’s perceived suspicious behavior. He slowed and pointed toward a sandy bank that was tucked into the bluff.
As he pulled in, Sook commented to Duncan, “I know this trail. It is a steady climb to the top. We can begin your search easily.”
Duncan looked upriver toward the bluffs as they rose above the river. None of it looked familiar to him. Only his body could sense the fall he’d experienced into the fairly shallow river.
Sook hugged her father and smiled at Duncan. Chae encouraged them both with his best English. “Go. Go.”
While Chae fished from the bow of his boat below, Sook and Duncan climbed to the top of the bluff. Understandably winded, Duncan stopped periodically to catch his breath and stretch his limbs. In about thirty minutes, they reached the top of the trail, and Sook led the way toward the road. Their plan was to walk higher up the terrain about fifteen feet from the road bed to avoid detection. Then they could begin their search for Duncan’s Barrett.
Duncan was impressed with Sook’s movements through the forest. The melting snow made their footing precarious, but it did prevent the threat of snapping branches. Fortunately, the sun’s warmth had prevented the wet snow from forming into a crunchy ice, which would have taken away their opportunity to remain hidden.
Sook slowed and raised her hand, indicating that Duncan should stop. She pointed to her ear and cupped her hand to listen carefully. Duncan did the same, and he picked up the sound of trickling water up ahead. She turned to look at him, and he shrugged, mouthing the word maybe.
They pressed forward, side by side now, as the babbling brook grew louder. Sook picked up the pace as they reached the small trickle of water. Duncan tapped her on the arm and pointed.
“There. Do you see the fallen tree by the road? Also, do you see the bark shredded off that pine tree? The rifle should be there.”
“You first. I will hide by the road and watch for soldiers.”
Duncan moved swiftly toward the tree. The memories were returning. Park had been shot, and Duncan had hoisted him on his shoulder. It was impossible to use his rifle for defense, so he’d kicked the weapon under the fallen tree and pushed pine needles up against it.
After crawling up a slight incline, he reached the tree and fell to his knees. He was frantically digging out the wet snow and debris when he heard voices. A man was speaking authoritatively from down the road. He could see two figures jogging up the gravel shoulder in his direction. Then he heard Sook’s voice.
She’d stepped onto the road and was speaking to the two soldiers. Their weapons were raised as they ordered her to raise her hands above her head. As she did so, she unbuttoned her jacket and allowed it to open. Then her tone of voice changed.
Naturally, Duncan couldn’t understand what she was saying, but there was no mistaking her tone. She was using God’s greatest gift to the female gender. The ability to disarm the male of the species with her sexuality.
Duncan kept his eyes on the three of them as Sook worked her magic. The soldiers shouldered their weapons and offered her a cigarette. They lit it for her and the game commenced. Sook playfully swatted at the soldiers, even running her hand down one of the men’s faces. She playfully spun around and wandered toward the other side of the road, causing the young men to turn their backs to Duncan as they followed their prey.
It was the opening he needed. Resisting the urge to use his sidearm for fear of drawing unwanted attention, Duncan gently removed his knife from its sheath and grabbed the steel blade with his fingers. Catlike, he climbed the slight embankment and steadied his nerves. He could disable one of the soldiers, but he’d have to move quickly to overtake the other to keep Sook from being in danger.
As she continued the playful conversation, Duncan gripped the blade, ready to throw it at his target. Lightning fast, he found his narrow throwing line and focused on the base of the man’s skull. Unconsciously, from a lifetime of practice, he aimed, pulled his arm back, and released the knife like he was throwing a baseball.
The blade stuck deep into the back of the soldier’s neck, whose now dead body stood in limbo for a moment before collapsing. Duncan tried to close the gap and tackle the other soldier, but his right foot slipped out from under him, causing him to drop to his knees.
The soldier deftly pivoted and unshouldered his rifle to fire upon Duncan when he heard the loud sound of a crack like a tree limb had been broken over someone’s kne
e.
The soldier screamed in pain and fell toward the pavement. As he dropped, Sook swung her right leg around and kicked the soldier in the temple, causing blood to fly through the air on the snowy ground in front of Duncan.
Silence.
Neither soldier moved. Duncan found his footing and pulled his sidearm as he approached the two men who lay dead on the road. With his weapon pointed at their heads, he checked for a pulse to make sure. He shrugged as he pulled the serrated blade out of the upper spine of his kill, leaving a hole for blood and spinal fluid to ooze onto the snow. He crouched over the dead bodies, staring at the results as he wiped off the blood on the man’s uniform and returned the knife to its sheath. Then Duncan turned his attention to Sook.
She stared at the bodies for a moment and casually walked to retrieve her jacket. Duncan helped her put it on and then studied her face. Her eyes were steely cold. With two well-placed kicks, she’d killed one of the DPRK’s menacing soldiers.
“Are you okay?” he asked her as she buttoned her coat.
“Yes. My grandfather taught me taekwondo.”
Taekwondo was a Korean form of martial arts that emphasized head-height kicks, spinning kicks, and fast, reactionary kick techniques.
Duncan wasn’t sure what to say, so he expressed his feelings. “Wow, Sook. That was amazing.”
“Please do not tell Father. He would not approve of killing this man.”
Duncan nodded as he looked up and down the road. Nobody was in sight.
He picked up the men and dragged them over the embankment. First, he stripped them of their weapons and ammunition. Then, while Sook brushed snow over the bloodstained road with her feet, Duncan pulled the bodies down the hill along the same creek bed he’d carried his partner, Park, several days before.