by Dirk Patton
“He hasn’t left your side.” Rachel said. I slowly raised a hand and rubbed Dog’s head, then let it fall. That had been all the energy I had.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Irina shot you.” I heard Martinez’ voice. Shot? A surge of adrenaline hit and I tried to sit up again, this time Igor helping instead of stopping me.
“What the…” That was as far as I got before the dizziness and nausea struck like a Mack truck. I fought it as long as I could, but finally gave up and pitched to the side and threw up. I hadn’t eaten in a while, so it was a little bit of water, then the dry heaves. My body didn’t care that there wasn’t anything in my stomach to purge, it was determined to try.
When the worst of it passed, I straightened back up and Rachel placed a cool hand on my forehead. My head pounded bad enough that it felt like it was going to split open, but I’d experienced the worst of the sickness. Other than a splitting headache I seemed to feel OK. At least I was moving and talking.
“What the hell happened?” I asked, again, checking myself over for bullet holes and happily not finding any.
“A female was on top of you and Irina shot it in the head trying to help you. The bullet went through the infected’s head and creased your temple. Knocked you out. You’ve got a nice, deep crease along the side of your head. An inch to the side and you wouldn’t be here.” Rachel said. That bullet had really rung my bell. I couldn’t remember anything that Rachel was telling me.
I reached up to my pounding skull and my fingers touched a thick gauze pad taped to the right side of my face. Now that I knew where the worst injury was, I could feel the burning pain from the furrow the bullet had carved in my flesh. I looked up when Irina knelt down in front of me.
“I’m so sorry,” She said. “I thought I’d killed you.” Even in the weak moonlight I could see a large swelling around her left eye.
“What happened to you?” I asked. She glanced around, not answering at first.
“I might have hit her.” Rachel finally spoke up. She didn’t sound one bit sorry.
I looked at Rachel, then back at Irina. The whole side of Irina’s face was swollen, and the skin was already changing color. It looked black in the night, but I’d had a few of those bruises and knew it would be an angry shade of purple in the light. Neither woman said anything else and I met Igor’s eyes. He shrugged his shoulders and turned away with a grin on his face.
“Sorry I missed that,” I mumbled to myself, raising a canteen and taking a cautious sip of water. The water was tepid, but I could feel coolness all the way to my stomach as I swallowed.
“Want some aspirin?” Rachel asked, digging through the med kit in her pack then holding out a small, clear plastic bottle. I took it, popped the lid and dumped several into my hand. Washing them down with some more water I hoped my stomach wouldn’t rebel when the pills started dissolving.
“What happened to the people the infected were attacking?” I was starting to think a little clearer, suddenly remembering why we had left the safety of the rocks to fight the females.
“All dead.” Martinez answered. “They ran out of ammo before all the females were put down. And, don’t know if it matters, but they were part of a drug cartel from Juarez. I recognized their tattoos.”
I thought about that for a couple of moments. On reflection, it didn’t really surprise me that cartel soldiers had survived this long. They would have been heavily armed and had access to fortified locations in which to hide. There was no doubt they knew how to shoot. But what the hell were they doing out here in the middle of the desert?
“Movement to the south.” This was Evans, the co-pilot, who had been keeping an eye out with a pair of NVGs. My pair, I realized when I reached up and they weren’t on my head.
Irina said something to Igor and he rose up on his knees and looked. He adjusted something that I assumed was a magnification setting on his Russian made goggles and grunted a reply that Irina translated.
“Four vehicles approaching.” Irina translated. “About a kilometer away.”
“We need to move. Now.” I said, climbing to my feet and bringing my rifle around to check on it. As soon as I stood up the pounding in my head increased tenfold and my knees nearly buckled. I stood there a moment, swaying slightly, and Rachel quickly got up and steadied me.
“Have you checked the vehicles?” I asked, referring to the ones that belonged to the dead drug runners.
“Out of fuel. Probably why they were stopped here.” Martinez answered.
“OK. Let’s get back to the rocks before those vehicles arrive. If they’ve got night vision they’ll probably see us, but at least we’ll be fairly secure until the Marines show up.” I said.
I started to run towards the rocks, but only made it a couple of steps before my head reminded me that I wasn’t one hundred percent. Or even fifty percent for that matter. I stumbled and would have gone down if Martinez hadn’t grabbed my arm. Nodding my thanks I settled for a fast walk, but was apparently still weaving around as Rachel stepped beside me and circled her arm through mine.
“You’ve most likely got one hell of a concussion.” She said.
“Most likely.” I agreed. “I’ll try not to let any more bullets bounce off my skull.”
“No worries there. You’re head’s so thick I don’t think they could do anything except bounce off. But just in case, try to avoid that. Now that I’ve got you, I don’t want to lose you.” Rachel squeezed my arm and I tried to put on some more speed.
“They’ve seen us.” Evans said a couple of minutes later. “The lead truck just changed directions and is coming directly at us.” I looked at the rocks ahead and guessed we were still about two minutes away from the shelter they afforded.
“How far are they?” I asked, pushing myself into a trot.
“Maybe a minute.” He answered. Shit. We weren’t going to make it before they arrived. Not without me able to run.
“Martinez, get everyone in the rocks. Now. Run.” I ordered, trying to push myself faster and nearly falling.
“We’re not leaving you behind.” She said without turning around.
“That’s an order, Captain!” I said as firmly as I could.
Martinez looked over her shoulder at me, and then shook her head. “Sorry, sir. But under the UCMJ, an officer that has sustained an injury or wound to the head and is deemed to be mentally impaired as the result of said wound cannot issue a lawful order.”
“Goddamn it, Martinez…” I started to say, but Rachel leaned her head towards my ear and told me to shut up.
Well, if they weren’t going to listen, then I had to make sure they were safe. Pushing myself into a run I almost collapsed. The pounding in my head returned, a pulse of pain coordinated with each time one of my feet hit the ground. The desert in front of me was undulating, the horizon warping as I struggled forward. I would surely have fallen flat on my face if not for Rachel’s assistance.
I could hear the sound of the engines behind us now, and Igor moved in on the opposite side of me from Rachel and grabbed that arm. Together, they propelled me along at a speed greater than I could achieve at the moment. Dog ran a few yards in front of me, and I just focused on following his bushy tail.
My world had compressed to a dark tunnel. Peripheral vision was gone, and all I could see was Dog’s ass as he led the way. The sound of the approaching vehicles was replaced with a roar that reminded me of the ocean, and my stomach was threatening to spasm and force the water and aspirin back up. I was only vaguely aware of the sound of gunfire from our rear, almost like when you’re dreaming and something is happening that you’re aware of but not involved in.
But, I guess I was involved because Igor released my arm, turned and fired a long burst from his rifle. I was aware that Martinez was also firing to our rear and I thought I should stop and do the same, but the thought didn’t translate to action. I kept running with only Rachel’s support. We were moving slower, but I managed to stay on my
feet, and following Dog I somehow managed to maintain a straight line. I think.
Before I knew it we were at the shorter rock that guarded the entrance to the gap, and Rachel scrambled on top of it. I stood looking at her for a moment, then realized she was yelling at me to get Dog. Stooping over, I leaned a shoulder on the rock to keep from falling down, wrapped my arms around Dog’s body and lifted until Rachel could grab his front shoulders and pull him up with her.
I climbed onto the rock, feeling like I was moving through molasses, then Rachel was dragging me and we wound up tumbling off the backside of the boulder and collapsing on the sand. Moving out of the way, I pulled Dog to me as first Irina, then Martinez and finally Igor joined us. Igor immediately rested his rifle across the top of the boulder and began firing at the newly arrived vehicles.
“Where’s Evans?” Rachel asked. Irina turned and shook her head. She didn’t need to say anything else to get the message across.
38
The firing subsided quickly, and mercifully my headache began to recede. Slowly I was starting to think again, and I was able to stand without help. Martinez and Igor stayed crouched behind the cover of the rock, rifles aimed out at the desert. There wasn’t room for me to squeeze in. Besides, they didn’t need my help. It sounded like some of the trucks were driving away, most likely intending to circle the area and see if there was a way to attack us from the rear.
“Talk to me, Martinez.” I said, glad to hear my voice sounding strong and clear.
“Five vehicles. Four pickups and one Suburban. Each truck has three men in the cab with multiples in the back. Hard to get a count with them driving around us in circles. No idea on the SUV, but it’s probably their jefe.” She said, using the Spanish word for the man in charge.
“Cartel?” I asked.
“That’s my guess. All heavily armed. Looks like AKs, pistols and machetes. There’s a pintle mounted in one of the trucks, but so far no sign of a weapon for the mount. Thank God!”
“OK, we need to get that rear opening covered again. Rachel, take Irina and Igor with you and make sure we don’t get surprised from that side. I’ll stay here with Martinez. We need to hold these guys off until the Jarheads decide to show up for the party.” I was feeling better and it must have showed as everyone jumped into motion without any arguments or second guessing.
I sent Dog with Rachel, trusting him to keep her safe, but also calling out to her to keep an eye on him. These weren’t infected we were fighting and I didn’t want Dog taking a bullet because he wasn’t behind some kind of cover.
“Good to see you feeling better.” Martinez said when I joined her at the boulder.
“Who says I’m feeling better?” I said sarcastically. “And the next time I tell you to leave me behind…”
“I’ll disobey that order, too. Sir.” She interrupted, unapologetically. “Would you leave me behind?”
“No. But that’s different.” I said, watching two of the trucks pull up next to the Suburban and stop.
“Why? Because I’m a woman?” She challenged.
Jesus Christ! Sometimes, I really just can’t win. I had several things on the tip of my tongue to say, but bit all of them back.
“Just fucking with you, sir.” Martinez said with a small laugh, letting me off the hook. “I know why you wouldn’t. I was in Los Alamos with you. Remember?”
I smiled, thought about calling her a bitch, but settled for resting the dot in my scope on the face of the man driving one of the pickups. If these guys were cartel, they were just the thugs that were recruited locally. The Mexican drug cartels like to hire and use trained soldiers whenever they can. And with the money they have, finding former SF operators from just about any country on the planet isn’t a problem.
It made sense that none of those guys would have stuck around when the world fell apart. Money was now less valuable than toilet paper, quite literally, and they had taken off to find their families or to reach what they thought would be a safe area. All that were left were the locals whose loyalty was based on blood or community ties.
Two of the trucks were unaccounted for, but I figured out where they were a moment later when I heard automatic weapons fire from the far end of the gap. They’d found the opening and a big, pissed off Russian guarding it. The guys to my front heard the firing as well and started to move, but I pulled the trigger and sent a bullet through the head of the man I’d sighted on.
The rest of them started scrambling behind the vehicles, several of them ripping off long bursts from their AKs in our general direction. This was un-aimed firing intended to keep our heads down while they sought cover. Knowing that gives you the advantage of not feeling the need to throw yourself onto the ground, and I shifted aim to one of the men who wasn’t as well hidden as he thought and pulled the trigger. And missed. Fired a second time. And missed.
The concussion was apparently affecting me more than I realized. These guys were less than 100 yards away, and I know I can damn near shoot the wings off a fly at that distance. Especially when I’m shooting from a static position with my rifle firmly resting on a stable object.
Martinez had fired twice and there were two bodies lying on the sand to confirm her accuracy. Taking my face away from the scope, I rubbed both eyes, then sat back and poured some water over my head. Other than feeling good it didn’t do anything to reduce the halo in my vision.
“You OK?” Martinez asked when she noticed what I was doing, then had to duck when bullets began smashing into the rocks around us.
“I’m fine.” I said. “Just don’t depend on me for any down range kills for a while.”
The firing from our front quickly dwindled to nothing. That was out of character for cartel types. They liked to use bullets the same way they liked to spend money. The more the better. Either they were running low on ammo, or they were up to something. Poking my rifle through an opening no more than six inches tall I used the night vision scope on the rifle to see what they were up to. I would have preferred my goggles, but they were still on Evan’s head and he was lying dead somewhere out in no mans land.
“Hola, amigos!” A thick, Mexican voice shouted out in Spanish. I tried to spot the man talking, expecting it would be jefe, but whoever he was he was smart enough not to reveal himself.
“We are all in trouble here, don’t you think? Let’s put our guns down and talk like men.” The speaker switched to thickly accented English. Martinez glanced over at me and I shook my head. Put my gun down my ass. Charlton Heston said it best. “From my cold, dead hands.” Personally I would have added a few descriptive expletives to the end of that, but he was a classier guy than I am.
“ETA on the Marines?” I asked Martinez. She made a call on the radio in a low voice that I couldn’t hear.
“Ten minutes. They’re pushing beyond the safe speed limits for their aircraft.” She said.
“Brief them on our situation, and I want this fucker targeted as well as his buddies at the other end. Tell them these guys killed one of ours and I want them erased from the fucking planet.” I growled.
Normally I don’t get pissed off in combat. It is what it is, and while emotions are something that can’t be avoided, anger is one that all too often leads to bad decisions. But every now and then it’s OK to get mad. Get really pissed off and unleash some hell on earth. We didn’t start the fight with these guys. In fact, we started out trying to help some of them, and the new arrivals didn’t even try to find out what was going on when they showed up. Just came in guns blazing and killed Evans, and damn near the rest of us. Now it was about to be our turn to return the favor.
Martinez said something into the radio, turned to me and told me the frequency the Marines were on. “Keep this prick occupied while I talk to them.” I said, adjusting my radio. “What’s their call sign?”
“Thor five five.” She said, turning and yelling towards the parked trucks in Spanish.
“Thor five five, Dog two six.” I said when I had the uni
t on the right channel. Thor? Really? I had a sneaky feeling I knew who was going to answer.
“Hear you’ve pissed off the locals, Dog two six.” Zemeck chuckled in my ear.
“You know me.” I answered. “What’s taking you so fucking long? Stop off for a beer in Amarillo?”
“Negative. Pussy in Abilene. Your sister was in town.” He responded without missing a beat. And you wonder why Soldiers and Marines shouldn’t drink in the same bar.
“Hope she left you with a smile on your face, Thor. Got some locals down here that think it’s OK to shoot a young Air Force LT. I need you guys to come in hot.” I said.
“The lady already briefed us. On you in five minutes. We facing anything real?” He was asking if the bad guys had anything that could bring down an Osprey.
“Not that I’ve seen. Just small arms, Thor.”
“Copy. Get ready to duck. Thor five five out.”
Martinez was carrying on an animated conversation in Spanish. I recognized a few words and could tell she wasn’t exactly exchanging pleasantries with the man. I was keeping a close eye on my watch when I wasn’t trying to spot a target through my rifle’s scope. The conversation sounded like it was growing more heated and reached a point where Martinez stuck her rifle over the top of the rock and loosed a long burst of automatic fire in the direction of the vehicles.
“What the hell?” I asked when she retreated from their return fire.
“You said keep them occupied. That’s what I’m doing.” She said calmly, an innocent expression on her face. I couldn’t help but laugh. The more time I spent around her the more thankful I was that she was on my side.
I checked my watch again. Two minutes left. Peering back through my scope I saw movement along the desert floor. Someone was crawling across the sand at an angle that would reach the rocks a couple of dozen feet to our right. An area that we couldn’t see. I kept scanning and saw more movement as another man worked his way to our left.
The desert isn’t perfectly flat, undulating with small hillocks and crisscrossed with shallow channels carved by water as it rushed to the larger washes. All of that meant there wasn’t much of these guys exposed as they moved. My head was still pounding as I watched them through the scope, but I happily noticed that the halo in my vision was gone.