Operation Zulu

by Ernest Dempsey

  Madic rolled his eyes and planted his face in his palm. This mission couldn’t be over soon enough.

  10

  Zeke and Phoenix had been driving for about a half hour following the incident on the top of the mountain. Now, they were almost to the bottom and could see the valley floor getting closer by the second.

  They came around another of a seemingly endless supply of bends in the road and steered around the turn with careful ease. The snow was still covering the pavement, and there was a ton of it on the slopes, but soon they would be back down on flat earth where there was far less risk of sliding off the road.

  It was only after they rounded the curve that they could see another problem up ahead. This time, it wasn’t sheep or any other kind of animal. The road was completely blocked from one side to the other with a huge snowbank.

  Zeke feathered the brakes and slowed the truck to a stop several yards short of the white blockade.

  The two looked at each other, questions filling their eyes.

  “What is that?” Phoenix asked. He pointed at the big mound of powder.

  “Snowdrift, I guess,” Zeke said.

  “We never get that much snow back home. I’ve never seen anything like it. Not even when I was out west skiing.”

  “Me either. Come on. Let’s take a look. Take your gun just in case there are any other animals lurking around. You know, the kind that could maul you or eat you. Unless you think there could be another avalanche.”

  “No, it doesn’t look like a threat down here,” Phoenix said. He turned his head back and forth just to make sure and seemed satisfied they were safe.

  They hopped out of the truck and trudged over to the big snowdrift. Zeke dug his gloved hand into the powder and pulled out a chunk. It wasn’t as dry as the stuff up on the top of the mountain, but still far less wet than the occasional snow they got back home in Tennessee.

  Phoenix did the same thing, pulling out a big glob of snow. He looked up to the right and then back down to the left. Something was strange about this snowdrift. He couldn’t place it, but there was definitely something off about it.

  “Why did all of this accumulate here? Seems unnatural.”

  “I don’t know,” Zeke admitted. “Maybe the wind was really strong right through here and just channeled all of that snow into this single wall.”

  “It’s thick, too. I can’t stick my arm through to the other side.”

  “Yeah. I wonder how thick it is. Do you think we could just drive the truck straight through it?”

  “Maybe, but what if there are big rocks inside it or something like maybe a tree?”

  Zeke leveled his gaze at his friend. It was the look you gave someone if you thought they were acting stupid.

  “Seriously?” He stuck his arms out wide and flapped them up against his hips. “Do you see any trees around here? The only plants we’ve seen for the last hour are a few shrubs.”

  “Yeah, okay. Good point. Still, there could be rocks or something else under there. If we’re going to try to push through, we need to be careful. Take it nice and slow. In other words, the opposite of what you just did on top of the mountain with the avalanche.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I get it. Come on, let’s get this thing moving and see if we can burrow through.”

  The two turned around to walk back to the truck but found themselves facing five armed men carrying AK-47s. The gunmen were clothed in white rags from head to toe. Their faces covered in black ski masks, revealing only their eyes and mouths. The big guns were leveled at the two Americans—they were trapped.

  “I knew something was fishy about that snowdrift,” Zeke said.

  “You? I’m the one that said it didn’t look natural like someone put it there on purpose. Now it all makes sense. These guys must’ve plowed that snow into a bank to block the road.”

  “Why would they do that, unless….”

  “Unless they knew we were coming?”

  Zeke shook off that theory with eyebrows pinched together. “That’s crazy. How could they—”

  “Silence!” one of the gunmen shouted. They were similarly dressed, with a few minor differences in their clothing: a sash here, a belt there, a bloodstain on an arm. It was the bloodstain that sent a chill through Zeke and Phoenix. These guys were terrorists and they’d seen combat; recently from the looks of it.

  “Hello,” Zeke said, doing his best to sound diplomatic. “We’re just passing through. We’re Americans.” Like he needed to say that!

  “Oh, you don’t say,” one of the gunmen stepped forward. He was the one that spoke before. His English was clear, though heavily accented. “Are you here on vacation or something? Taking a tourist trip?” He turned to the others in the group and they started to laugh. It was a haunting sound, like wolves howling in the night as they surrounded their prey.

  “Yeah, that’s what we’re doing. Just taking a tour of the beautiful Afghan countryside.” He looked out to his left toward the rolling hills of dirt and rocks, speckled with big patches of snow. It was a desolate place, one that held no beauty in the eye of these two American beholders.

  The guy who had been speaking, apparently the leader of the group, arched one eyebrow suspiciously.

  “You insult our country, American?”

  “What? Me? No. I wouldn’t think of it.” There was no hiding the sarcasm in Zeke’s voice. It was natural for him, as natural as breathing. It had become such a part of his normal way of interacting with people that he almost didn’t realize he did it, except he did realize it. He just didn’t care.

  “So, what are you really doing here, huh? In this old truck.” He sauntered over to it and slapped the side of the cargo truck with one hand. It thumped and then rang for a few seconds. “Old military, no?”

  Zeke and Phoenix both shrugged, their heads bobbing side to side as they tried to play stupid.

  “Military? I guess,” Phoenix said. “We got it at a used car dealership in Kabul.”

  “Yeah, the guy wasn’t very friendly,” Zeke added. “Personally, I think he ripped us off. We should’ve checked the blue book on this thing.”

  The leader pulled up his mask, exposing his face and showing his thick, black beard. It matched the curly hair poking out from under the lip of his mask.

  The two Americans just stared at him with a blank expression.

  He stared back, waiting for them to recognize him. When he saw that they didn’t know who he was or didn’t cower in fear, he put his hands out wide, as if begging them to give him the credit he deserved.

  “Guys, don’t you recognize me?”

  Phoenix and Zeke turned their heads and exchanged a questioning glance. Then they shook their heads in response.

  “No,” Zeke said. “Sorry. Did we go to college or something? Maybe high school?”

  The leader laughed, which incited more laughter from his men. He shook his head dramatically as though disappointed by their response. He looked down at the ground as he did so and took a couple of steps forward.

  “Seriously, guys? You don’t know who I am? I’m one of the most wanted terrorists in the world. Surely you’ve seen my face.”

  He pointed both index fingers at his face as he sported a cheesy smile.

  “Sorry,” Zeke said. “I don’t really watch the news much. I mostly stick to funny YouTube videos.”

  “And I’m always working on something so I never really see much television,” Phoenix added.

  “Are you serious? You don’t know who I am?” The goofy smile on the leader’s face faded. He was clearly not happy with the lack of his fame, which was a strange thing considering his line of work was to inflict misery and pain on the entire free world. “I’m Malar Malouf Mohamed Ackbar,” he said, once more putting his hands out wide as if he’d just revealed the grand prize on a game show.

  “Oh,” Zeke said, tilting his head up as if he’d just had a revelation. “Yeah, okay.” Zeke elongated his words, continuing to fake the epiphany. “Right, bud
dy.” He turned to Phoenix. “Malar…Mohamed…Admiral Ackbar. Remember?”

  Ackbar didn’t seem to catch the reference, though he flashed a look of irritation at the butchering of his name.

  “Oh, yeah…okay, you look different. Is that a new scarf around your neck? I didn’t recognize you with the mask on and everything. Plus you’re so covered up it’s hard to tell who looks like who. I mean, you’re men there all look the same to me.”

  The leader chuckled and bobbed his head, finally happy that he was getting the recognition he was due.

  “So, how’s the terrorist game going lately? Killed many innocent people? Making those infidels pay for their…freedom and stuff?”

  “I can’t complain,” he said with a shrug. “Last year was really good to me. We destroyed several villages, sent some rockets into some unsuspecting towns, that sort of thing. This year has started off a little slow, but it’s about to pick up now that you two are here.” He wagged his finger in front of them, alluding to some secret he was apparently excited about.

  “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

  He raised his gun and the smile left his face. “Because I know you two are spies, sent here to deliver some very powerful weapons to an American base to the north of here. Those weapons are going to make me very powerful.”

  “Um, I don’t mean to tell you how to do your job, but you just used the same adjective in back to back sentences. Just sounds a little redundant.”

  The leader’s eyes filled with confusion.

  “Yeah, and we’re not spies,” Phoenix added. “We’re just here, hanging out in our…truck that we bought in Kabul. We don’t have any weapons.”

  Zeke felt the detonator in his coat pocket. So far, they hadn’t been checked for weapons, but he and Phoenix were still too close to the truck to blow the explosives. He would have to wait for the opportune moment.

  The leader wagged his finger again. “Oh, you guys are such kidders. I love American television. You have the best comedies. Afghan television sucks. It’s the same thing over and over again, and no humor. I love to laugh.”

  Zeke and Phoenix both chuckled with him, nodding absently.

  “Yeah, I guess I can see that. Makes sense, too, that you hate Americans and their way of life….”

  Ackbar smiled with pride. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” Then the smile disappeared again. “Now, open the back of the truck...please...or I’ll make your deaths painful.”

  “Jeez,” Zeke muttered under his breath. “This guy has a personality disorder or something.”

  “No kidding. What are we going to do?”

  “You know, I can hear you both. I’m standing right here.” They turned and looked at their captor like kids who’d been caught cheating on a quiz. He’d sidled up to them and was now only inches away.

  They could smell the days of grime and sweat on him, mingled with the musty scent of the fabric of his clothes.

  “Yes, sorry, we’re just trying to figure out the best way to open the door for you. You know how us Americans love dramatic reveals, right?”

  Ackbar’s eyes went from one to the other, and back again. Then he grinned. “Oh, like the HGTV.”

  Zeke raised one eyebrow, momentarily not understanding what he was saying. Then he remembered the home makeover shows. “Riiiight. Like the home makeover shows. Yes. Just like that.”

  The leader’s head shook up and down. His stupid, clueless grin returned. “Yes, I love that show. I wish they would do an Afghanistan edition.”

  “Don’t we all,” Zeke agreed, widening his eyes at his friend. That was probably the dumbest idea he’d ever heard.

  “So, yes, if you all will just make your way back here to the rear of the truck, we will open the door and do the big reveal.”

  “Great!” Ackbar threw his hands in the air and fired his gun several times. His four men copied him and started firing their weapons as well, sending bullets streaking into the sky. They shouted and hollered in excitement; meanwhile, Phoenix and Zeke were left wondering how they were going to get out of this one.

  “What are we going to do?” Phoenix whispered as they were ushered toward the back of the truck. “Once they have the missiles, they’re going to kill us.”

  “I know. I’m working on it.”

  “Working on it? We only have, like, a minute or two, tops.”

  When they got to the back of the truck they realized there were more men than they had first counted. Six more guys with Kalashnikovs were standing behind the truck, guns at the ready.

  Ackbar motioned to the latch and the lock attached to it. Zeke had the keys in his hand. He’d taken them out when exiting the truck’s cab.

  He pressed his lips together, still trying to think of what they could do.

  “Phoenix, if you don’t mind taking a step back there for me, please.” Zeke motioned to the men standing ten feet away. “You six need to back up, too. You know, in case one of the crates shifted during our drive. I’d hate for one of them to fall out and crush your foot.” He laughed, but the thought of it actually gave him a twinge of comfort.

  Ackbar nodded at his men and they did as instructed, all stepping back away from the truck. Phoenix did as well.

  “Did you just say his name is Phoenix?” the leader asked with a snicker.

  “Yes,” Phoenix said. “That’s my real name.” Even here in the middle-of-nowhere Afghanistan he was getting crap about his name.

  “Are you from Arizona?”

  Phoenix sighed. “No. I’m from Georgia. Zeke, could you just open this thing and give them the crates so we can get this over with.”

  Zeke nodded, still uncertain. He fingered the padlock key in his right hand and then stepped close. He inserted a key into the padlock and twisted. The lock came free with a click and he unhooked it from the holes between a clasp and the doorframe.

  “Good,” Ackbar said. His smile left once more and he leveled the weapon at Zeke. “Now, go stand over there with your friend.”

  Zeke hesitated for a second, then slowly shuffled over to where his friend was standing. Ackbar ordered his men to raise the back gate. The two closest guys stepped to the truck’s bumper and pushed up on the back door, while Ackbar kept the latch-up until it was clear from the hook.

  The gate rattled and clanked as it rolled up into the roof of the cargo bay. Every eye staring into the back was wide with disbelief, every eye except those of the two Americans. They knew what was back there even though they hadn’t seen it. Huge wooden crates were stacked one on top of the other, secured by straps that were tightened down tighter than a guitar string.

  Ackbar nodded and used the steel step on the side of the back platform to climb up into the cargo bay. A look of satisfaction beamed from his face and he slapped one of the crates with his hand.

  “This is good,” he said. “This is very good, my friends.”

  The men all stared in rapt wonder. Ackbar motioned for something to open one of the crates. One of the men had a huge hunting knife and he passed it up to his leader. Meanwhile, Zeke and Phoenix took a wary step back. It was only inches, but they did it repeatedly as all of the terrorists’ attention was on the contents of the cargo truck. They were a couple of feet behind the last few gunmen when Ackbar sliced the first of the straps in half. He made quick work of the others and then went back to the first crate. He slipped the tip of the knife into the seam between the lid and body and pried it up. It lifted easily as the lids were light, and not well sealed. Once there was a gap of a couple of inches between the lid and the main container, he jammed his fingers under it and lifted with his hands.

  Ackbar pushed the lid all the way open, leaning it against the interior wall of the cargo bay. He bent over at his hips and looked into the box, a confused expression on his face. He handed the knife back to his comrade and then shoved his hand into the box. He pulled out piles of white packing popcorn, digging ever deeper into the crate in search of a missile he thought for sure was there.

&n
bsp; “What is going on here?” he shouted abruptly. “These crates…they’re empty!” He turned and looked out at the men. Only then did he realize his captives were trying to escape. The two Americans were running back up the mountain road, slipping on the packed snow with every step, barely able to make any progress.

  “Get them!” he shouted.

  His men turned and opened fire, the repetitive popping of the guns filled the air and echoed off the mountainside.

  Zeke and Phoenix dove to the right, over a short snowbank and down onto the slope. They rolled in the deep snow for about twenty feet until they slammed to a stop against a huge boulder.

  Zeke wiped snow off his face. Phoenix clambered to his feet.

  “Please tell me you still have the detonator,” Phoenix said.

  “Heck yes, I do,” Zeke said. He pulled the little box out of his pocket, twisted a knob, and looked at his friend.

  “Do it!”

  Zeke pressed the button. For a second, nothing happened. Then the shouting and gunfire near the truck were abruptly cut off by a huge blast. The explosion rocked the ground under the two Americans and the concussion sent a billow of snow and dust into the air, melding into a pillar of smoke and fire.

  Then, as suddenly as the chaos had begun, it stopped. There were no more voices, no more gunfire.

  Zeke started to trudge back up the hill to investigate the scene, but Phoenix grabbed him.

  “Wait,” Phoenix said. “Lay low.”

  Zeke nodded and obeyed. The two of them climbed back up the bank until they reached the road. They stopped there, hiding behind a pile of snow and rocks as they assessed the carnage. There were several men lying on the ground; some on their sides, some face down, and some on their backs. A couple of them were still moving. One was trying to get up, but there was no sign of Ackbar. He’d been on the truck when it exploded. Now it was a raging bonfire of metal and the wooden crates in the back crackled in the fire.

  “We need to get out of here,” Phoenix said.

  Zeke looked back down the hill. “The valley,” he said. “If we can get to the valley, we can find somewhere safe to hide out until we can be extracted.”