“Okay, Gladius, you lead the way. We’re going out the south entrance. Trident and I will hang back and provide cover. As soon as we’re clear, I’ll radio Alpha Leader to advance and get these women to safety. Understood?”
The Rangers nodded. Miranda said, “What about the men in the tunnels?”
I put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “We’ve got people on the way to rescue them as we speak. But right now, I’m only worried about you, okay?”
She nodded quickly. I motioned for her and the others to get moving.
The girls stayed close to each other, many of them weeping quietly and holding hands. Some of them looked to be injured, their friends half-carrying them along. My chest tightened at the sight, and I felt a hot coil of anger stirring in my chest, but I forced it down.
Concentrate.
Keeping my breathing steady, I slowly eased back, following the procession. Trident held position a few yards to my left, occasionally checking behind him to look for obstructions. In less than a minute, we were at the door. Gladius pulled a small can of spray lubricant from his web belt and doused the rusty hinges with it, trying to keep the door from squeaking too much. Slowly, he opened it enough for the girls to squeeze through, and started motioning them out.
“Come on, let’s go. Run for the highway. No talking,” he whispered, over and over again. The girls did as he said, too terrified to argue. The last to leave was Miranda. She had hung back to help keep the others calm as they made their escape. Finally, they were all out the door.
Gladius and Trident followed them, and I stepped out last, pulling the door behind me, but not quite letting it shut all the way. When the two Ranger squads showed up to wreck shop, I didn’t want them having to contend with a latched door.
When I turned around, the others were running toward the highway, with Trident and Gladius carrying a couple of girls who couldn’t run. I saw another one limping along with two other girls trying to help her as she hopped on one leg. I sprinted over, offered her a hand, and then threw her over my back in a fireman’s carry. Reaching up, I keyed my radio as I ran.
“Alpha Leader, Irish. Hostages are secure. You are clear to advance.”
“Copy, Irish. Damn fine work. Alpha Company is coming your way to render aid. Bravo Leader, get your men ready to move in on my order.”
“Copy, Alpha. We’re standing by. Cocked, locked, and ready to rock.”
I grinned. Good ol’ Grabovsky.
Relief washed over me in waves as I saw the Hollow Rock militia emerge from the cover of the forest and converge on the fleeing prisoners. They ushered them back to the tree line where Army medics waited to begin treating them for their injuries. As they were being led away, Miranda ran back to me and threw her arms around my neck. She squeezed hard, and brought her lips to my ear.
“I knew you were different,” she said. “I knew you weren’t like them. Thank you so much.”
I hugged her back, and then gently pushed her toward a waiting medic. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk later, Miranda. Let the medics look you over.”
She smiled at me, tears streaming down her face, and waved goodbye. I watched her go, and then turned to the two Rangers.
“Okay, first of all, what the hell are your real names?”
Gladius held up a hand. “Tarique Blakeney. Jackson, Mississippi.”
Trident said, “Anthony Toricelli. New York City.”
I pointed a finger back and forth. “Blakeney. Toricelli. Got it. Now, I got a question for you. You fellas down for a little more action tonight?”
The Rangers grinned.
“Fuckin’ A.” Toricelli spoke for both of them.
I keyed my radio. “Bravo Leader, Charlie Two. Don’t suppose you have room for three more, do you?”
Grabovsky came back. “Charlie Two, Bravo One. You know the layout of this place, right?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Welcome aboard. I’ll have one of my men shine an illuminator. Move to my position. You copy all that Alpha Leader?”
“Copy loud and clear, Bravo One. Charlie Two, let me know when you’re in position.”
A moment later, I saw the illuminator flashing from the tree line a hundred meters east, just at the edge of the highway. I motioned to Blakeney and Toricelli.
“Let’s go. This party ain’t over yet.”
I took off at a run with the two Rangers close behind
Chapter 26
The Journal of Gabriel Garrett:
Lovely Things
As Eric had warned me, the Hollow Rock access tunnel stretched for miles. Occasionally we saw side tunnels, but they only went a few feet into small caverns; storage rooms for supplies and equipment. We cleared them anyway, just to be safe. Aside from railroad ties, hand augers, spikes, and metal bracing brackets, we didn’t find anything.
The two Rangers assigned to me were designated Cestus and Spatha. The names were easily memorable, but struck me as a bit dramatic. Whoever designated them must have spent way too much time reading up on Roman gladiators and the weapons they used.
Cestus was average height, medium build, and quite possibly the least remarkable human being I had ever met, aside from the fact that he was an Army Ranger with obvious combat experience. Spatha was Hispanic, maybe five-foot seven with his boots on, and moved with the quick, fluid grace of an athlete. Both men kept the chatter to a minimum, and focused their attention on the task at hand. That was fine with me.
We set a fast pace, trusting Eric’s assessment that the tunnels weren’t booby-trapped. According to my watch, it took us just over thirty minutes to come within sight of the guards. They huddled around a small table playing cards, while the slaves sat on crude wooden pallets nearby. The Rangers and I slowed to a halt, and then backed off a short distance away.
We had run at least six miles to get where we were, and I didn’t want us engaging the enemy until we’d had a chance to catch our breath. Not that we couldn’t have done it, we could have. But the enemy wasn’t going anywhere, and in a fight, you take any advantage you can get. We had time to rest, so we took it.
Cestus leaned close, and whispered, “How do you want to handle the takedown?”
“Let’s keep it simple,” I said. “There’s enough room for all three of us to fire at the same time if you kneel down in front, Spatha.”
The short man nodded. “Fine by me.”
“All right then. Let’s move up and take position.”
My thermal imagers and the Rangers’ NVGs gave us far greater visibility than the anemic circle cast by the guards’ oil lantern. We spotted them from more than a hundred yards away, their light standing out like a supernova in our highly sensitive optics. The Rangers and I advanced until we were within forty yards of our targets and sighted in. The oblivious troops continued with their card game, unaware that three well-trained marksmen had them in their crosshairs.
“On my mark. Three, two, one, mark.”
We kept our shots high, taking the raiders through the upper chests and heads. I only had to fire once, the heavy 6.8 SPC slug pulverizing my target’s skull. The Rangers hit their targets three times center of mass, just as the Army had trained them to. The marauders fell to the ground, while the slaves next to them jumped up and shouted in panic.
“Calm down,” I called out to them. “We’re with the United States Army. We’re here to help you.”
Slowly, I slung the rifle around to my back and raised my hands in the air. I stepped into the light of the lantern, removed my goggles, and studied the men in front of me. They were all filthy, and what little clothing they had on was threadbare and falling apart. Their hair and beards were long and matted, and most of them bore bruises, cuts, and other marks of abuse. I thought back to Eric’s debrief, and the story of how he had spent more than a month amongst these men—starving, dehydrated, and enduring constant beatings and brutally hard labor. Not for the first time, looking at the evil that men do, I felt an ache in my ch
est.
“It’s okay.” I continued in a gentle tone. “My name is Gabriel Garrett, United States Marines. These two men with me are Army Rangers. We’re here to get you out of these tunnels.”
The rest of the slaves got to their feet and slowly pressed forward, trying to get a look at us. Their stared at me with wide, bloodshot eyes lit up with a desperate, forgotten hope.
“What about the Legion?” one of them asked. “If they find you down here, they’ll kill us all.”
I held up a mollifying hand. “Don’t worry about the Legion; the Army is dealing with them as we speak. Now I need all of you to listen to me, okay? In order to get you out of here, I’m going to need your help. How much farther down does this tunnel go?”
“Not far,” another man said, stepping forward. He was older, nearly emaciated, and his only clothing was a pair of ragged pants that barely clung to his scrawny hips. He didn’t even have shoes. Pointing behind him, he said, “It ends about twenty yards that way. The only way back to the surface is through the warehouse.”
I smiled. “Actually, no. It isn’t. Which one of you installs the ventilation pipes?”
The same old man raised his hand. “I do.”
“How long do you have to cut them to get through to the surface?”
He shrugged. “Not long. About three feet.”
I pointed to the ceiling. “Here’s what we’re gonna do, then. We’re gonna dig our way out.”
The old fellow looked confused for a moment, and then realization dawned on him. “Son of a bitch. You’re right.” He turned around, motioning to the other slaves. “Come on fellas, get the tools. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Wait,” I said, reaching out. “Let’s get those chains off of you first.”
I dropped my pack and fished out a pair of bolt cutters. One by one, I snipped the chains binding the men. The manacles were still attached—I didn’t have a key to get those off—but that problem could be taken care of later. Without the chains keeping them hunched over and hobbled, the men straightened up and took to their work with gusto.
In a few short minutes, they had knocked a couple of support struts out of the ceiling and began hacking at the earth above their heads with mattocks and shovels. While they were doing that, the ground trembled beneath my feet, and I heard the far off whump-whump-whump of the Semtex charges being triggered. The air shifted a few seconds later, blowing by in a strong gale, and then went still. The workers stopped, peering fearfully back toward the warehouse.
“What the hell was that?” one of them asked.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “That was our people blowing the warehouse access to the tunnels. The Legion won’t be able to escape that way. Come on, let’s get this hole finished.”
As the men got back to work, I pulled Cestus and Spatha aside. “Just in case, fellas, why don’t you move back that way a bit and keep an eye out?”
They agreed, and went to it.
After fifteen minutes of frantic digging, with the workers occasionally passing their tools off to a fresh set of arms, the shovels broke through and fresh, cold air drifted down into the cavern. Working with renewed vigor, the men widened out the hole, and piled up the dirt to make it easier to climb out. I had them keep at it until it was big enough for me to fit through, and then called the Rangers back.
I put my back against the cavern wall and interlaced my fingers, boosting Cestus through the opening. He clambered out, and then reached down to help Spatha do the same. The two of them lay down over the lip of the exit and reached down their arms.
“All right, gentlemen,” I said, waving upward. “Who’s next?”
The closest man grabbed my shoulder and stepped into my hands. His feet were bare and felt like boot leather covered in sandpaper. Lifting him took no effort at all; he was so starved he barely had any meat left on his bones. Cestus and Spatha gripped his arms and pulled him to freedom. The next man stepped up, and we did the same for him. Over and over, we helped them out until only the old-timer with the tattered pants remained.
He paused for a moment, looking up through the hole at the sky above. On his face was a glimmer of childlike glee mixed with the relieved expression of a man waking from a nightmare. Tears streamed down his cheeks, carving muddy furrows through the caked-on dirt. His lips began moving, and I heard him whispering. Although I missed the first part of it, leaning in, I caught the end.
“… through some small aperture, I saw the lovely things the skies above us bear. Now we came out, and once more we saw the stars.”
I let him stare for a moment longer, and then said, “Dante’s Inferno. Thirty-Fourth Canto.”
He shifted his rheumy gaze to me, surprised. When he spoke again, something had returned to his voice as though from a long absence. A steady, cultured tenor came from his depths, a bellows to the diminished fire behind his eyes. “That’s right. You’ve read it?”
“I read a lot of the classics. My mother insisted.”
He smiled, revealing missing front teeth and, to my surprise, he stepped forward and gently wrapped his arms around my waist. He smelled like the south end of a northbound water buffalo, but I hugged him back anyway. A few moments passed, and he stepped back.
“I felt Dante was apt, you know? I can’t remember the last time I saw the sky, and I have most certainly been through hell.”
I smiled at him. “Well, it’s over with now. Come on, friend, let’s get you out of here. There’s a bath, a hot meal, and a warm bed waiting on you.”
“Never have more welcome words been spoken to a more grateful ear.” He stepped into my hands, and I lifted him up.
Out of the tunnel, he went. And out of slavery.
Chapter 27
Those Who Sow in Flames …
Grabovsky and his squad took point and led the way to the entrance. It stood slightly ajar, just as I had left it.
“Irish, get your ass up here,” he said.
I hustled to the front and stacked up next to him by the door. Blakeney and Toricelli followed.
“What are we looking at?”
“Just beyond the door there’s a big open area. On the far wall to our right is where the Legion troops are sleeping. I’ve drugged Lucian already, so as long as we don’t shoot the place up too badly, we should be able to take him alive. That has to be our number one priority. Without him, we’re back to the drawing board.”
“Understood.” He keyed his radio and, in five terse sentences, he explained the tactical situation, had Bravo Two cover the other exit, and ordered his men to stay weapons tight unless fired upon. After a round of acknowledgements came in, he hefted his rifle, flipped down his NVGs, and motioned for me to proceed ahead.
Slowly, I opened the door and peered beyond. Nothing moved. I raised my rifle and used the thermal scope to scan around.
“The way is clear. Moving in.”
“Copy, right behind you.”
I stepped through the door followed closely by the rest of Charlie Two and Grabovsky’s fire team. Once we were clear of the entrance, the other Rangers filed in and fanned out, rifles up and scanning for threats. Silently, we covered the vast distance of the warehouse.
The huddle of sleeping marauders stood out bright white against the cold background. The pallets where the female slaves had lain just a few minutes ago had already cooled, their color darkening to a grainy charcoal. I led the way past them to the living area and moved toward Lucian’s bed. He lay where I had left him, snoring loudly. Grabovsky and the Rangers covered the surrounding marauders as I approached the girl sleeping next to Lucian.
Not wanting to risk her alerting the other raiders, I took one of the two remaining syringes from my web belt and stuck her in the back of her shoulder. She snapped awake for just a moment and then went limp. I picked her up and handed her off to Blakeney. “Get her back to the militia.”
He took hold of her wordlessly and moved back toward the entrance. I backed off to the line of Rangers covering
the sleeping Legion troops. The fact that our entrance had not awakened any of the marauders was a testament to the skill of the men around me. Either that, or the marauders were just used to sleeping through anything. Considering how raucous the Legion could be, that seemed just as likely.
Grabovsky motioned to four of his men and pointed at Lucian. “Take this guy and get him out of here, too. He belongs to Alpha Leader. Be careful with him, we need him alive.”
The men lifted Lucian with strong hands and carried him out the door. Watching them go, I kept expecting a sense of victory to spring forth. Some elation, or relief, or glowing triumph. Instead, I just felt tired. Too many days with too little sleep weighed down on my shoulders, and I wanted nothing more than to lie down next to Allison and pass out.
“What do you want to do now?” Grabovsky said.
“Why are you asking me? This is your show.”
He turned his NVGs toward me. “Because you know these guys. You lived with them, and you know what they’ve done. If you don’t want to make the call, I will. But I think you’ve earned a say in the matter.”
I hesitated. These men had done terrible things, but not all of them had done so willingly. Many of them had been captured and had committed their crimes because it was either that or die at the hands of the Legion. When someone is given a choice between life and death, it’s really not a choice at all.
I thought back to Miranda, and having to sit quietly while she allowed herself to be violated to save my life. I thought about the self-loathing I had felt—that I still felt—over what I had done. I thought about Grayson Morrow, and the seething hatred in his voice when he spoke about the Legion, and what they had forced him to do. What acts he had committed to stay alive. There were men here who deserved to die, that was true. But there were also men here who deserved a shot at redemption. While justice demanded that they pay for their crimes, I couldn’t bring myself to believe that all of these men deserved death. And even if they did, who was I to mete it out? My hands weren’t exactly clean.
Surviving the Dead 03: Warrior Within Page 35