Military Fiction: THE MAC WALKER COLLECTION: A special ops military fiction collection...

by D. W. Ulsterman

  Mac was staring intently at something ahead of their position and then pointed to the lights.

  “That Fort Wilfrid?”

  Imran gave one brief nod. He too was focusing on whatever he thought was directly in front of them.

  Brando stood motionless directly to Cooper Wyse’s right side, the Doberman’s attention also indicating he sensed someone or something was out there.

  Mac motioned for the others to step behind the transport truck, his voice whispering to them as he did so.

  “We are being watched.”

  As he moved slowly to a position behind the truck, with his right hand holding one of his two six shooters in front of him, Cooper strained to see confirmation of what Mac has just told him.

  “How do you know that, Mac?”

  Mac crouched down and placed his left hand on the pavement.

  “Just a feeling. Been on ambush roads just like this so many times before…you just develop a sense for it.”

  Imran pointed off into the darkness as he whispered back to the others.

  “I saw a light on the road. It was there and then it went out. Maybe…a hundred yards ahead.”

  Brando suddenly turned around, his now familiar low growl warning of something behind them.

  Mac followed the dog’s gaze. Reese noted how calm and measured Mac became when danger became more imminent. He had watched Mac transform into that person during the darkest moments during the attacks on Dominatus.

  “Ok. Whoever they are, looks like they split into two groups. One remained in front of us, the other is making their way behind us. That means there are fewer of them up ahead on the road, so I suggest we get back into the truck, get as low inside of it as possible, and drive it right the hell through them. We want to keep the headlights off, Imran – you ok to drive in the dark?”

  Imran, though no longer smiling, appeared satisfied with Mac’s plan.

  “No problem, I have this road memorized. So…you want me to drive as fast as possible, is that right?”

  Mac nodded.

  “Yeah…get us moving as fast as you can and don’t stop until we reach Wilfrid. If we do have to stop…if whoever is up there is able to force us to stop, everyone of you jumps out of this truck guns blazing. And shoot to kill. No holding back. We all understand?”

  Everyone nodded back at Mac before moving as silently as possible back into the vehicle. Imran and Mac returned to the truck cabin, while the rest laid down in the back of the truck bed.

  With the headlights left off as Mac had instructed, Imran placed the truck into gear and pushed down on the accelerator. The transport vehicle lurched forward, picking up speed as Imran ran through the remaining few gears.

  The first few shots fired at them came from behind. They watched the flash of gunfire followed by the sound of bullets ripping the air just above them. Then more shots came from directly in front of them. At least two bullets hit the long hood of the Imran’s truck, causing sparks to temporarily ignite against the WWII era steel. Mac and Imran sat as low as possible in the seats – just enough to allow them to peek out through the windshield.

  “Keep on going, Imran. You’re doing great.”

  Imran managed a small smile at Mac’s compliment, though the thin sheet of sweat forming on his forehead betrayed the stress of the moment. Yet more gunfire came from behind them, with several bullets striking the transport vehicles trailer bed. The thick steel prevented any from passing through.

  More bullets struck the hood, and one hit the windshield, passed through the cabin no more than a foot above Mac’s head, before plugging somewhere in the passenger door frame. Mac’s eyes glanced upward and then he smiled.

  “Good thing these Muslims are such shitty shots, huh?”

  Imran could see the outline of a dilapidated vehicle no more than twenty yards ahead, parked directly in the middle of the road. It appeared to be an old light blue Chevy truck from the 1970’s. One man stood to the left of the truck, while two more stood just to the right of it. All of them were carrying AK-47 rifles.

  Imran pressed down on the truck’s accelerator even further as the darkness ahead was illuminated by several more rounds of gunfire. Imran deftly maneuvered the transport truck to the left of the parked Chevy as the three armed men scrambled to get out of the way. His smile returning as enthusiastic as ever, Imran glanced over to Mac.

  “Looks like we are by them!”

  Mac nodded as he turned to glance behind them. He saw two of the three men getting back up from the ground where they had dived to avoid being hit by Imran’s truck as it passed them.

  Without warning, the truck stumbled momentarily, once again causing everyone inside of it to be pushed forward. The vehicle lurched again, and then again, before coming to a stop as its engine died completely. From the back Bear’s voice could be heard issuing yet another complaint.

  “Oh, for the love of God, you got to be kidding me! Can’t a guy catch just one damn break around here?”

  Shouting could be heard no more than thirty or forty yards behind where Imran’s truck had stalled.

  Mac had already exited the truck with his handgun at the ready, as the others soon did the same.

  “Want everyone to get behind the truck again. Good news is we know all of them are behind us now. That makes targeting easier. Bad news is, well…we’re here.”

  More shouting came from behind them. Bear scowled as he turned to Imran.

  “You understand what they’re saying? Is that Arabic?”

  Mac responded before Imran could.

  “Yeah, Somali Arabic actually, though there’s a bit of Yemeni accent to it as well.”

  Though he had long since learned not to be surprised at Mac’s many talents, Reese could not help but be so again.

  “I figured you understood Arabic, but you can actually recognize accents from different parts of the Middle East too?”

  Mac tilted his head in the direction of the still shouting voices from behind them.

  “Sure – no different than you being able to recognize different accents in the United States. I got my Louisiana thing going…which sounds a lot different than someone from say, Tennessee, and even more different than some asshole from Boston, right?”

  Everyone but Brando instinctively ducked as several bullets struck the back of Imran’s truck.

  “They are telling us to surrender. That they won’t harm us if we give up what we own.”

  Imran stood up again and yelled back in Arabic at the group of Muslim bandits. Mac told the rest of the group what Imran has just said.

  “He told them they are attacking a friend of the godfather’s and that he is under the godfather’s protection and that if they simply leave us alone, and let us be on our way, Imran won’t inform that godfather of what they have done.”

  The bandits grew momentarily silent after Imran’s communication to them before one of the bandits responded.

  Mac’s eyes widened slightly at what was spoken.

  “They say they have a grenade launcher. An RPG, and they will blow us to Allah if they have to.”

  “Bullshit. They would have already done it if they had one.”

  Cooper Wyse glanced at Bear and then back to Mac.

  “Not necessarily, Bear – not if they are hoping to get at whatever they think we might have all in one piece. “

  Imran shook his head as he whispered back to Mac.

  “These bandits, they aren’t armed with such things. A few old guns, yes. Machetes, knives, absolutely. But a grenade launcher? I have not seen such a thing from them.”

  Dublin placed her hand on Imran’s arm.

  “What about your friends in Fort Wilfrid? They’re only about ten miles away. Could you use the shortwave to call them and ask for help?”

  Imran shook his head.

  “No…inside the walls of Wilfrid we are protected. The godfather does not spend resources dealing with problems outside those walls. He would not help me, even though he consi
ders me his friend. If he were to try and control the atrocities that took place around him, he would soon run out of what he needs to protect himself and his own community. If we can make our way to Wilfrid, we will be safe. Until then…we are on our own. It has always been that way for me.”

  The bandits were shouting again – repeating the same threat of using the grenade launcher.

  Mac covered his mouth as he felt yet another cough forming in his lungs. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, waiting for the cough to pass. He then turned to Imran.

  “I want you to ask them for proof they have that RPG. Tell them you are carrying a shit load of valuables and you aren’t willing to just give it up without a fight, but you will give it up if you have to. They got to put up or shut up. While you’re telling them that, I’m gonna make my way around them, ok? So you shout what you’re telling them. Be loud about it. Be convincing. I want them shooting off that launcher. Now if they don’t fire it off, then that means they are bluffing and we have ourselves a good old fashioned firefight. Spread out – at least ten yards apart from each other, and light them Muslim bastards up.”

  Imran nodded to Mac as the former Navy SEAL began to crawl slowly away from the truck, his form disappearing into the darkness. Imran stood up again to shout back at the bandits what Mac had instructed him to say.

  Reese nudged Dublin while they waited for a response.

  “You make sure to stay close to me, ok?”

  Dublin offered him a small smile.

  “Right back at you.”

  Cooper leaned down next to Imran, a slightly confused expression covering his face.

  “Now what are we are supposed to do if those bandits out there do fire off a rocket? I don’t recall Mac saying anything about that. He just said he wanted them to, but why?”

  The group again went silent as they contemplated the question. Imran appeared to be the most troubled at the plan that now appeared to have been hatched unwisely.

  Bear peered out at the darkness, hoping to see where the bandits were gathered. He was unable to do so, but soon heard one of them yelling back at them. The big man looked down at Imran so he could know what was being said.

  “He says they are preparing to prove to us they have what they say they have. They also want us to know they have many more they can launch. If we don’t give up after they fire off the first rocket, the next one will be fired at us. They also say…they say that Allah is with them and that we will be punished for our crimes. That if there are women with us…that they will be raped. If there are children…they will be killed along with the rest of us. Their throats will be cut, and their blood offered as sacrifice. He says we are not innocents, but rather sinful participants in the war that is now coming - a new jihad on the Alaskan infidels and that no friend, no godfather can stop Allah’s demand for justice.”

  Cooper Wyse chuckled.

  “So these fellas are the friendly sort, huh?”

  Imran continued to interpret what the bandit was yelling back at them.

  “He also says they saw the dog that was with us, and that they will very much enjoy eating it over a fire before the night is done.”

  Cooper’s eyes narrowed as his left hand removed the second six shooter from its holster that hung from his left hip.

  “They just threaten my dog, Imran?”

  Imran gave a slow nod.

  Yes…they will eat Brando.”

  Cooper glanced down at Brando and then back to Imran.

  “I didn’t think Muslims ate dog.”

  Imran shrugged.

  “These Muslims, they are the worst of the worst, they make their own rules.”

  Cooper Wyse’s eyes glared out into the darkness.

  “Ok then…”

  Bear half whispered, half hissed at hearing Cooper’s sudden seriousness over Brando being threatened.

  “Those Muslim scumbags can shout out how they’re going to kill all of us and you sit there laughing it off like it’s no big thing, but as soon as they mention your dog, you bring out that second gun of yours and look like you’re ready to kill every one of them? What the hell is that about?”

  Cooper continued to stare ahead while calmly answering Bear’s accusation of his seemingly misplaced priorities.

  “I could give a mouse fart in the wind about some grubby wanna be bandits making threats against other people, but you don’t threaten to eat a man’s dog. That kind of thing, well…that just ain’t right.”

  A flash of deep orange-yellow light momentarily illuminated the night forty yards behind the group followed by an arc of fire that sped off before ending in a much larger explosion a hundred yards or so further away to the right of where the group was hunkered down behind Imran’s truck. The explosion lit up the area for a few seconds before darkness once again fell over them.

  As soon as the full return of that darkness was complete, several rapid fire gunshots were heard to their left. Reese noted at least six shots were fired, followed by a momentary pause, and then four more gunshots, replaced by a prolonged silence. Reese whispered one brief word to the others.

  “Mac.”

  No further shouting came from the bandits. No sounds of movement - just silence within the inky blackness of night. The few minutes following the last of the gunfire passed very slowly for each of them crouched behind the transport vehicle.

  Brando was the first to sense something approaching from the left – the same direction Mac had earlier snuck away to. The Doberman did not growl, but rather wagged his short, cropped tail. Though he looked every bit his seventy five years of age, there was just a hint of satisfied lightness in Mac’s steps as he made his way back to the group.

  Cooper Wyse’s eyebrows rose slightly as the right corner of his mouth curled up into the faintest of grins. He wasn’t one to impress easily, but on this night, Mac Walker had done just that.

  Imran, as he was with Bear’s feat of strength earlier, was far more open and expressive in his admiration for Mac’s action against the Muslim bandits.

  “Did you kill them all? By yourself? Praise God for you, Mr. Mac Walker!”

  Mac brushed aside the compliment and admiring looks, and pointed to Imran’s truck.

  “You need to see if you can get that thing running Imran. Those bandits up there had communicators. They’re might be more of them on their way here. We need to get ourselves to Fort Wilfrid and hope it’s as safe a place for us as you say it is.”

  While Imran moved quickly to the front of his truck and raised the hood to try and determine what had caused it to stall, Dublin stepped toward Mac and placed her hand on his shoulder.

  “How were you able to shoot at them so accurately Mac when it’s so dark out?”

  Mac put his right arm around Dublin’s shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze.

  “No – it wasn’t. At least not for a few seconds, and that’s all I needed. As soon as they fired off that launcher, I could see where each one of them was standing. There were five total. I hit the first three right off, all head shots. The last two, they hit the dirt and were trying to crawl away. Dumb as they were, they were crawling right next to each other. Made things pretty damn easy for me. Had to wait until the rocket detonated, and once that happened, there they were plain as day. No more than thirty yards away from my position. Four shots fired. Three found their mark. Last one missed but I didn’t need it. Both dead.”

  Imran called out from under the truck’s hood.

  “Got it! No problems! Easy fix! The redundant check valve in the fuel line was hit by a bullet! I can just bypass it and we should be good to go again! Give me five minutes!”

  Bear looked over at the others in the group.

  “What the hell is he going on about?”

  Cooper Wyse, who had returned his two six shooters to their respective holsters, tipped his head in Imran’s direction.

  “Sounds like he’s saying we’ll be good to go soon. If anything mechanical needs fixing, Imran there is
the one to do it.”

  Imran had ventured back to the truck cabin where he again looked behind the seat and came out with a roll of something silver in his right hand.

  “Duct tape! Best quick fix in the world!”

  With that big grin and a task allowing for the use of duct tape, Imran looked at that particular moment like he could quite possibly be the happiest man on earth. Within a few minutes, the small man was back behind the wheel of the transport vehicle and turning the ignition key. The motor fired up, and then stalled. Imran looked back at the others and nodded.