Operation Zulu

by Ernest Dempsey

  “Yes, sir,” the driver said as he opened the door. A blast of cold air shot into the vehicle, once more reminding the three guests what awaited them.

  They followed the driver to the door of the building where they were joined by Jessica and Major Paige, who opened the door and ushered everyone inside. A warm gush washed over them and wrapped its arms around them.

  The barracks were toasty compared to outside, though they were hardly a welcoming, cozy place to curl up next to a fire and read a good book. The walls were mostly bare, floors spotlessly clean, and everything was the same drab color.

  “Your quarters are this way,” Paige said, motioning down the hall.

  He quickly showed them to their rooms. Jessica was given her own room despite the fact there were four bunks in there. The three men were assigned to the same room.

  “Just like being back at camp again,” Zeke commented as he walked over to a bottom bunk and plopped his bag down onto the pressed sheets.

  “When were you in the service?” Major Paige asked, seeming a little surprised.

  “Service? Oh, no. I’m sorry. I meant summer camp.”

  At first, Paige’s face displayed confusion, then disappointment, followed by annoyance. “Mess hall is this way,” he groused. “Unless you want to be behind everyone, I suggest we get there now.”

  Phoenix and Gary settled on a couple of beds, dropping their bags quickly on the mattresses. Paige led the way back down the hall through another door that connected to a different building. It was the structure they’d seen earlier with the high angled roof. Inside, there were tables lined up from one end of the building to the other. There was a long, cafeteria-style buffet line where the kitchen crew was busily prepping pans and ladles.

  “Reminds me of when I was young,” Gary said, taking a big sniff of the air. “Smells like the nursing home kitchen where I grew up.”

  “You grew up in a nursing home?” Phoenix asked.

  “Yeah, I know that sounds weird. My parents ran it. They were the administrators. I used to sneak into the kitchen when I was little and the workers would give me biscuits or chocolate milk.” He stopped talking as soon as he saw Jessica’s look of disdain, and the major shook his head.

  “Grab a tray and some chow. We’ll brief you as soon as you’re done eating.”

  “Are you not going to eat with us?” Zeke asked.

  “I eat with my soldiers and I only eat when every one of them has theirs,” Paige said. He walked away without saying anything else, striding purposefully over to another door and stepping through, disappearing as it closed behind him.

  “You heard him,” Jessica said. “Get something to eat.”

  They did as they were told and made their way over to the line, hoping it wouldn’t be like prison food. They didn’t know what to expect, which was exactly how they also felt about the entire mission. It was a scary world out there in the wilderness of Afghanistan, and they were heading straight into it.

  6

  The food wasn’t bad. It wasn’t great, either. Zeke had seen the kitchen in the back and noted the massive pots and pans being used to whip up dinner. It was an impressive task and one that he didn’t envy. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy cooking, but cooking for hundreds and hundreds of people had to be a difficult thing, not to mention the people they were cooking for were hungry soldiers, starving for a meal at the end of a long and probably difficult day.

  The four, including Jessica who sat an extra few feet away from her team, sat down at a table in the back corner. The less conspicuous they were, the better. That was the theory, anyway, until all of the soldiers started pouring into the mess hall. Many of the military personnel eyed the four suspiciously as they passed by along the far wall, or as they sidled up to a spot at the table or one of the nearby benches.

  No one said anything to them. There were several irritated glances, which was to be expected. Not only were they outsiders, but they were alson’t soldiers. These men and women had been in Afghanistan for who knew how long. Some were probably at the end of their tours. A few had just arrived on the same transport plane as Beta Force.

  Never mind the fact that Zeke and his crew were there to help. They were all on the same team, all working to protect the United States and its allies. Still, without being forged in the crucible of fire that was basic training and real-world combat, they were more like the junior varsity.

  Phoenix hurried through his meal of rice, beans, and pulled barbecue chicken while Gary picked at his food, mostly sticking to the yeast rolls and rice. Jessica ate at an even pace, making sure she ate equal portions of vegetables—green beans and carrots in this case—protein, and carbs. She was methodical in the way she consumed her food — that made sense. As far as the others on her team had seen, she was methodical with everything in her life. Zeke wanted to joke with her about cutting loose and using a spoon instead of the fork now and then, but he didn’t think it would go over well. Plus, he doubted she would detect his sarcasm. Her humor meter didn’t seem to be working if she had one at all. Since the time they’d met, Zeke hadn’t seen her smile, not once. And she definitely hadn’t laughed.

  He wondered what her story was, where she came from, where she went to college, what was her family like. He imagined, in his most fantastical thoughts, that she’d hatched from an egg during the Cretaceous Period and was now disguised by magic as a human woman with no feelings or desires other than to make him feel inadequate at pretty much everything.

  Zeke and the guys were amazed by how quickly the soldiers ate their meals. They scarfed down their food in huge bites, inhaling everything within minutes of sitting down. There was no taking time to savor the taste or appreciate the work that went into what they were eating. It was all about efficiency and speed.

  By the time Beta Force was finished, most of the soldiers had cleaned their plates and were making their way out of the building. Just like on the way in, no one said anything to them on their way out.

  “Guess they’re not looking to make any friends,” Zeke quipped.

  “No, they’re all set in that department,” Phoenix said.

  “These men and women have forged relationships that you three will never understand,” Jessica said, looking down at her almost empty plate. “You’ve never been through what they’ve been through, seen the things they’ve seen. Their bond is stronger than any.”

  For a second, Zeke almost felt bad about his comments, but he refused to apologize, instead reverting to his primary defense mechanism. “I’ve seen Phoenix naked,” he said deadpan. “That’s a pretty strong bond.”

  Gary nearly spat out his food. Phoenix was about to put the last of his rice in his mouth, but the statement paused him like a movie. He held the spoon in front of his mouth for a long moment to see Jessica’s reaction.

  She simply stopped what she was doing, planted her hands on the table, and twisted her head to the side to face him. They were all very deliberate movements, intent on showing that his words were neither appreciated, nor funny.

  “Everything is a joke to you, isn’t it? Well, I have news for you, Zeke. We are in a war zone now. This is not a place for jokes or comedy or humor.”

  “They’re kind of all the same thing, so, you didn’t need to—”

  She slammed her hand on the table, cutting him off. “If you don’t take this seriously, you’re going to end up dead. Now that I think of it, keep joking around. One less idiot in the world would be a good thing, so long as those missiles get to where they’re supposed to go, I don’t really care.”

  Zeke feigned being hurt. “Oh, now that’s not nice. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. Let me take you out to dinner….” He looked around the table as if assessing it. “I mean, another dinner. We don’t have to count this one.”

  She stood to leave, a look of utter disgust on her face.

  “I mean, it’s not a five-star joint. Three tops. But I’ll take you somewhere much nicer. I hear Kabul is nice this time of ye
ar.”

  She picked up her tray, carried it over to a rack where everyone else had left their trash, set it down, and then left the room without saying another word.

  When the door closed behind her, Zeke looked at the other two. “I think she likes me.”

  “I think if she had the chance she’d blow your brains out,” Phoenix countered.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  His friend rolled his eyes while Gary just watched, cackling quietly.

  The door opened again and Jessica poked her head through. “Briefing is in two minutes.”

  She disappeared through the door again without referencing the prior conversation.

  “Guess we better hurry,” Phoenix said, seemingly always the voice of reason.

  “Yeah, I think you’re right. Don’t want to get in trouble on our first day in class.”

  The three stood up and took their trays over to the rack, leaving them there as they made their way to the door.

  One hundred seconds later, the three burst into the briefing room where they found Major Paige and Jessica standing at the front. The space was small, about two hundred square feet at the most. There was a projector in the middle between four rows of metal chairs with matching one-armed desks attached. It reminded Zeke of college…if he’d attended college in prison.

  “For a second I thought you three would be late,” Paige said, sounding almost disappointed.

  “No, sir,” Zeke said as he sauntered to the front of the room and took a seat next to the aisle.

  The other two followed, Gary taking a seat in the row to the left. Phoenix sat down directly behind Zeke.

  Paige pressed a button on a remote in his right hand and a projection appeared on the screen behind him. It looked like a much smaller version of Bagram Air Base, minus the runway.

  “This is our forward operation base here in Afghanistan. Only a handful of people outside of this room even know about it.”

  “How is that possible, sir? Don’t you send reinforcements there on a routine basis?” Zeke didn’t mean to interrupt Paige, but he couldn’t help but wonder.

  Paige exhaled slowly, clearly annoyed by the interruption. He was only one sentence in and already this smart aleck was pissing him off.

  “The base is operated by a few technicians and protected by only two dozen soldiers, twelve marines and twelve infantry. Troops are rotated out on a monthly basis at the first of the month and there are only three cycles of them. They all operate with the utmost secrecy.”

  Zeke wanted to ask if that meant the operation was top-secret, but the second his lips parted, Paige fired a glare that could have burned a hole in the back of Zeke’s skull. So he decided to keep his questions to himself until the end of the presentation.

  “Zulu Base is the end of the road, gentlemen,” Jessica said, intentionally not making eye contact with Zeke. “Go any farther and you’ll be in Tajikistan.”

  “I take it we don’t want to go there,” Phoenix said.

  “Definitely not. You are to avoid any potential contact there. We fear that the Russians may have infiltrated that area again and we don’t want to spook them. Word on the street is, they’re looking for any reason to start something with us, and we don’t want to give them that excuse.”

  A question sprouted in Zeke’s mind, but he kept it to himself, for now, deciding it might be best to ask Phoenix about it later.

  “The road to get to Zulu is treacherous. It winds through these hills and mountains here.” He pointed at a view of a map that appeared when he pressed the button again. “There are at least ten to fifteen perfect places for snipers along this route, so be careful and keep your eyes open. We haven’t seen any sniper activity in our area for a while, but that doesn’t mean they won’t come back.”

  “Sorry, sir, but, what’s a while?” Gary asked.

  “Two weeks.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  That answer didn’t exactly bring comfort to Zeke’s and Phoenix’s minds.

  “We have detected some activity in that region, however, and it’s a known hotbed for terrorist training camps. They go into the valleys and recruit farmers’ kids, villagers, and young people with miserable lives. In return, they're given a sense of purpose.”

  “And that purpose is killing innocent people,” Zeke joked.

  No one laughed.

  “Their purpose is holy to them,” Jessica answered. “If you were born and raised in a dirty, rock house in a wasteland, what would you say if someone promised you cupcakes and rollercoasters and all you had to do was take out some people they claimed were evil?”

  Zeke shrank back into his seat, nodding as if he was a bobblehead doll.

  “Your job is to deliver the missiles to Zulu safely.”

  Phoenix was about to ask if they had to make the drive back through the mountains, but he figured the major was a thorough man and would give them that answer momentarily.

  “Once the package is in place, we’ll call for an exfil.”

  “I’m…um….” Gary stuttered, clearly out of his element.

  “An exfil is a tactical extraction,” Zeke said, helping out.

  “Oh,” Gary nodded. “Thanks.” He wrote down the word on a piece of paper. He’d been taking notes the entire time. Zeke wondered why he was using pen and paper instead of his laptop.

  “Sounds simple enough,” Phoenix said, “aside from the snipers, roadside bombers, and possibly an army of terrorists waiting to take us out.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Paige said confidently. “We’ll be monitoring everything from here. If you get in trouble, call for backup and we’ll be on our way.” His face grew grave. “But only call for help as a last resort. If you get stuck out in the middle of this trail,” he pointed at the screen again, “our response time might not be fast enough to save you.”

  “That’s why we’ve equipped your truck with a self-destruct button. If you’re surrounded and have no way out, blow the goods,” Jessica said callously.

  “Wait, you just said blow the goods,” Zeke said. “As in, the missiles and us with it?”

  She shrugged. “If you can’t get clear of the blast radius, yes. Don’t worry, though. If the missiles aren’t armed it won’t do much collateral damage. The blast should be contained within thirty or forty meters at most.”

  “Oh, that’s comforting to know.” Phoenix slumped in his chair.

  “This mission is absolutely critical, gentlemen. There’s a lot of money riding on that truck with you. Needless to say, our superiors and the people running our country would be extremely disappointed to see their investment go up in smoke.”

  “How much are we talking about, exactly?” Zeke asked, pouting his lower lip to look more casual.

  “Each one of those missiles costs over one hundred million dollars to manufacture,” Jessica said. “So, don’t screw this up. Understood?”

  All Zeke could do was think about how much money she’d said had been spent to build these weapons. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, catching daggers from her eyes. “Understood. I also understand I went into the wrong business.”

  Gary snickered. Phoenix cracked a smile. Paige just shook his head back and forth.

  “Dismissed,” the major said. “Get some shut-eye. You leave at zero five hundred hours.”

  Zeke kept his comment about sleeping-in to himself. Paige turned and left the room, followed by Jessica.

  When they were out of earshot, Paige turned to Jessica as they walked down the hall toward his office. “Where did the GIC find those idiots?”

  “They were in-house, sir.”

  “You mean they passed the tests, the training, all that? How?”

  She nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ve wondered the same thing myself.”

  He opened his office door and held it for her, allowing her to enter first. He followed and closed the door, then walked around his modest desk, easing into his beat-up vinyl chair.

  “I suppose it’s a good thing they’re only decoys,” P
aige said.

  Jessica furrowed her eyebrows. “I’m sorry? What did you say?”

  He was busily shuffling through some papers and then stacked them at the right-hand corner of his desk. He looked up as if surprised she’d asked the question. “Decoys. Those two are decoys. I assume the comms specialist doesn’t know about that. He seems to be a little out there.”

  “Decoys?”

  Paige was reaching for a pen in the center drawer when he stopped. He looked across the desk at her, reading her body language to glean information.

  “You don’t know?”

  “Don’t know what, sir?”

  He smiled and folded his hands on the desk. He looked down for a second and then back up, meeting her confused gaze. “I thought you knew. There’s a second team here in Afghanistan. They’re the real team that’s delivering the missiles.”

  “Second team? Decoys? Would you mind telling me exactly what in the world is going on?”

  “Miss Benson, may I call you Jessica?”

  “No.”

  He shrugged. “Fine. Miss Benson, this mission is extremely important. The guys in charge decided it was too dangerous to send one team on this mission. In the past month alone, we’ve had dozens of attacks along that road. We couldn’t risk sending such high-tech weaponry through there, or on any of the other roads leading to Zulu.”

  “So…you’re just sending them out there to die?”

  “It’s war, Miss Benson. Sacrifices are made. I didn’t make this call.”

  “You’re making it now.” She sounded more incensed than she’d intended.

  “I’m only following orders, ma’am.”

  Her breathing quickened and her face turned red.

  “We had to create a diversion,” Paige went on. “We leaked that a convoy would be traveling along that route in the coming days, delivering some extremely powerful weapons. Every terrorist cell in the region will be watching that road for the convoy. So, we dangled the carrot for them. Give them a taste.”

  “And what, two innocent Americans die so some billion-dollar missiles make it to some far away base that will never use them?”