Insurgency

by Alex Shaw

  Stunned Ibanescu told his men to hold their fire as Krasnov and Black went to work. Krasnov nodded at Black and then fired a three round burst, Black leapfrogged the Ukrainian’s position and got to the Taliban barricade. He pressed himself against the rock immediately next to a firing position. When the echo of Krasnov’s rounds died a Talib stood up to take a shot. The barrel of Black’s AK at point blank range sent a silver jacketed 7.62mm round into the vampire’s temple. Black vaulted over the barricade and searched for targets. He sprayed a further two vamps who dropped before firing another round. He felt a hot stab of pain in his left leg and fell to one knee. Two more rounds hit him in the back sending him sprawling. A controlled burst of AK rounds just missed Black as Krasnov sought out the attacker. The last remaining vampire crumpled and fell.

  “Are you OK?” Krasnov extended his hand.

  Black grabbed it and pulled himself up. He tasted blood in his mouth and felt hot daggers of pain ripping at his chest and thigh. “Getting used to being invincible.”

  Ibanescu joined them. “Which way now?”

  Krasnov sniffed the air, Black frowned. “Some senses develop further over time. The Vampires are near. Follow me”.

  They edged further into the cave complex, a line of the elite lead by an immortal Ukrainian. It was eerily quiet until they came to what Black could only describe as a crossroads, two chambers met with tunnels leading in opposite directions. Krasnov froze then quickly took several steps backwards as he heard the sound of feet slapping the rock floor. A group of ‘Talib-vamps’ ran past. “That is another exit route.”

  “The recon imagery only showed one entrance and exit.” Ibanescu peered along the tunnel.

  Krasnov grunted. “Your satellites are wrong.”

  “So where are the hostages?”

  “Gone.”

  “How do you know?”

  “There scent is no longer here.”

  “Shit.” Ibanescu signalled over two team members and sent them along the corridor.

  Black turned to Krasnov. “And Dratshev?”

  Krasnov shook his head then put out his arm to block Black’s path as he sniffed the air. “Wait, there is another scent.”

  “What?”

  “Non-vampire, human.”

  “The Afghan boss-man?”

  “It is not Ghulam Ali, I would recognise his scent. There are several scents.” Krasnov moved again and Black followed. “This way.”

  The Deltas split into two groups, one headed to secure the exit and contact ISAF whilst the second followed Krasnov’s lead. The chamber became wetter and lead Krasnov’s group down until they crossed an underground spring. It was then that they heard the moans. Krasnov waded through and ducked under a curtain of low stalactites. Seeing the Afghan prisoners he had no choice but to feed. In a frenzy he bit the neck of the nearest and drank as much blood as he could before Black appeared behind him. They made eye contact before Black turned away repulsed and Krasnov wiped his mouth. The remaining two prisoners stared back at them, blind in the pitch black.

  “What the hell?” In the green world of his NVGs Ibanescu saw the two prisoners in chains and the bodies of four others.

  Krasnov addressed Ibanescu. “This is where Ghulam Ali keeps those who have offended him, rapists, thieves and adulterers.”

  “Sadistic shits.”

  “Your men could take days to survey this cave system and still not find all the Taliban. There are numerous places for an ambush I suggest that we get out and re-group.”

  “Again, how do you know the hostages are not here?”

  Krasnov shrugged. “Would you keep a valuable asset here?”

  “Guess not.”

  After freeing the prisoners the group retraced their steps. The slightest lightening of the gloom signalled that they were approaching the exit and the moonlight. Ibanescu managed to get a signal on the comms net. “ISAF has a drone following the hostages. We are being ordered RTB; that includes you two. Helo ETA in three.”

  “OK.”

  Ibanescu exited the cave.

  Krasnov looked at Black. “We have two hours till dawn. I could reach the truck but not much further.”

  Black starred at the Ukrainian. “You killed that prisoner in cold blood. You ate him like a rabid dog.”

  “No. I fed from him like a vampire. This is the reality of who we are.”

  Black felt a hard rage tear through him but knew it was the truth. “What now?”

  “I cannot travel with you. I shall stay here until nightfall. I have an idea where the hostages are being taken.”

  “Where?”

  “Ghulam Ali has another compound to the East. He is a creature of habit and if I am correct I shall meet you there. Now go and say that you lost me in the darkness.”

  Black looked at the Ukrainian as he walked back into the mountain.

  FIVE: Unknown location, Afghanistan

  As the sedative that Dratshev had shot them with started to wear off, Rockbridge became aware of the coughing of a diesel engine. Opening his eyes he realised that he was on the floor of a truck, hog-tied. He had a metallic coppery taste in his mouth and felt nauseous. His vision blurred as the truck bumped over a boulder and his head banged against the floor. He screwed his eyes up absorbing the pain which now came from both his shoulder and temple. Opening his eyes as the wave of pain lessened he saw Gonzalez. “How you feeling?”

  “Like a fifty cent ho, used and dirty.” The sergeant replied.

  “How long have we been out?”

  “No friggin idea.” Gonzalez pushed himself up into a sitting position against the side of the truck

  “The Taliban insurgents can’t move us without ISAF knowing.” Rockbridge looked around. “That’s why we’re in an empty truck; if ISAF take it out the Taliban just lose a driver.”

  Gonzalez rolled his eyes. “That’s a reassuring thought Major.”

  “So where is Styles?”

  “Maybe he didn’t make it? Maybe the HRT boys got him back – take your pick. Whatever we’ve got to focus on staying alive long enough to either escape or get rescued.”

  “My escape and evasion skills are a bit rusty, Gonzalez.”

  “Then we gotta hope that our boys come and get us.”

  The truck slowed and there were shouts. The canvas back was abruptly opened and several Talibs jumped up, grabbed the two Americans and manhandled them out. It was still night but the sky had become streaked with the dark blue of pre-dawn light. Gonzalez kept his head down, submissive but scanning his surroundings with alert eyes. They were in a compound containing three single story buildings ringed by mud walls which he estimated to be twelve foot high. A second truck was parked just ahead of theirs. Taliban fighters, their faces covered in dark Shemags dropped out of the tailgate and hurriedly moved towards the smallest of the three buildings. Gonzalez and Rockbridge were forcefully pushed towards the second building and thrown through open doors. Rockbridge twisted in vain but again landed on his shoulder. The crunch was noticeable and the pain severe. He blacked out.

  Camp Bastion, Helmand Province, Afghanistan

  Matthers continued to watch the feed from the drone. Two trucks had moved slowly in the Afghan night away from the mountains and into the plains beyond. They had been sitting ducks for a Hellfire missile but one or both of them contained the hostages. Now they sat still in a compound which Intel had confirmed also belonged to the family of Ghulam Ali. The images from the drone showed two men being led into one of the buildings. He could not make out which of the three remaining Americans the two men were but he could confirm that they were indeed the missing ISAF men. A plan was already being drawn up, the decoy Black Hawk and the second carrying the HRT had been sent to the nearest ISAF forward operating base to refuel and await further orders. What had gone wrong, Matthers wondered? The HUMINT from the Afghan soldier ‘Hakim’ had been correct, the hostages had been in the cave complex but the Taliban had been expecting the Hostage Rescue Team. He still found it u
nfathomable, how had a group of Taliban destroyed a firebase and taken such High Value Hostages? He didn’t have any answers and the reports from both Delta teams made no sense. His spirits however were slightly cheered to learn that there was now a second survivor of the attack on the base, and more importantly he was an American. Matthers would debrief the survivor in full on his arrival at Camp Leatherneck after the Op. Matthers screwed his eyes up and shook his head in an attempt to ward off his weariness. The BBC film maker, Turner had been sniffing around again, he’d have sent her back to London but he had needed something to look at. He smirked, that was not officer behaviour. He really shouldn’t have given her any favours but he had and once then Op was over she would be demanding her interview, her scoop her exclusive or whatever it was these reporters called it. Bugger. He needed a real drink. He sipped his tea, it tasted of dishwater.

  “I still don’t get it Black, why the hell did that crazy Soviet stay all this time in Asscrackistan?”

  In the relative safety of the SF modified UH-60M Helo, Black shrugged. “Maybe he had nothing to go home for.”

  Ibanescu nodded. “I hear that one. What am I going to do when the Unit finishes with me, ride a friggin desk?”

  “Join the Circus, what other option is there for a bearded lady?” Hicks slapped his team leader on the back.

  “Yeah, you could follow me as a clown.”

  The mood on the helo was tense and the banter did nothing to lessen this. The mission had been a failure; the hostages had not been recused, but they had not taken a single casualty, which given the ability of the opposition was remarkable. Black sat in the half-darkness trying to think what to say at his inevitable debrief. It would have to be the truth, but a sanitised version without any mention of vampires. He felt his head fall forward and fatigue spread throughout his body. His eyes were beginning to close.

  Ibanescu shook him awake. “Hey Peter Pan, you ok? You’re not looking so good.”

  Black nodded. “Fine.”

  Ibanescu touched his headphones as the Black Hawk’s pilot cut through. “Roger.” He looked again at Black. “ETA in ten.”

  “OK.” Black nodded and then felt his eyes close. When he opened them again he was no longer on the helo.

  “Black. Black!” Ibanescu clicked his fingers in front of the Delta operative’s eyes.

  Black sat up, a hammering in his head. The room started to spin and lose all colour. “I need…I need…”

  Ibanescu held out a glass. “A drink.”

  “Blood!” Black grabbed Ibanescu’s wrist. Shaking, he drew it towards his lips. Black’s mouth widened and he sank his teeth into the vein. His eyes rolled back in his head as the warm coppery liquid gushed into his mouth.

  “Black…Black…Black!” Ibanescu screamed.

  Black opened his eyes. “What? What happened?”

  “We’re here.” Ibanescu handed him a thermos. “You blacked-out on the way in.”

  Black took the flask but didn’t drink, his eyes momentarily lingering on the Delta team leader’s pulsating vein. “Where are we?”

  “The ISAF FOB run by the Dutch, remember?” Ibanescu looked into Black’s eyes. “You sure you’re ok?”

  “Just tired.” Black sat up as the door was opened and a whirlwind of sand blew into the Helo.

  “OK.” Ibanescu shouted above the noise of the rotors. “Matthers wants to talk to us. We need to get to the comms shack.”

  “Just follow the guys in clogs.” Hicks slapped Black on the back.

  Black shook his head. “Clogs…what?”

  “The Dutch, wear clogs smoke weed.” Hicks smiled. “I went there one time, fell in a canal.”

  The Delta team disgorged from the Helo. The base was on high alert following the attack on Python. Ibanescu and Black were escorted to the Comms shack whilst the rest hefted their equipment over to the mess area to get some chow and re-unite with the Delta team from the second Helo. The fresh faced communications officer, who looked too young to be in uniform handed a pair of headsets each to Black and Ibanescu before discreetly moving to the other end of the room.

  “Look, we do not have much time.” Matthers stated after greeting both Americans. “We have tracked the hostages to a new location. Is there anything you can tell me that may help in their rescue?”

  Black had been thinking what to say and how. “The Taliban that have the hostages are wearing some sort of body armour. They only seem to be stopped by head shots.”

  “I can confirm that, sir.” Ibanescu added. “But we could try using Raufoss rounds.”

  “High explosive incendiary rounds?” Matthers wanted clarification.

  “Yes sir.”

  “Use whatever means necessary to get our people back.” Matthers paused; he didn’t have time to cross examine anything the Delta operative told him. “Black, who is the Russian that was at Python?”

  “His name is Dratshev; he is a General in the GRU.”

  Unseen on the other end of the line Matthers’ frowned. Nothing made sense. “What was he doing there?”

  “He said he was making safe a chemical weapons cache we discovered in the cave complex. He is in-league with the Talibs sir. I think he is supplying them with weapons.”

  Matthers again wanted to cross examine but just said, “Ok Black. That’s all. You will need to stay there until we can arrange a transport back to Leatherneck for you to be debriefed.”

  Black felt his anger rise. “With respect Colonel, if there is going to be a rescue mission I want in.”

  “I know you do but that is out of the question Black. You are to remain at the Dutch FOB. That is an order.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Ok Black, stand-down. Go and get some food. Sargent Ibanescu I’m now going to send you over all the Intel we have on the location of the hostages. Work-up a rescue plan and get back to me. I want to get in there ASAP.”

  “Yes sir.” Ibanescu stated.

  Despondently Black handed his comms headset back to the Dutchman as he left the shack. The brilliant mid-morning sunlight felt as though it was tearing his skin as he followed his nose towards the ‘mess hall’. He stopped and stared at his hands. No they were not starting to smoke, no he was not burning. Black looked up at the sun defiantly. He was a vampire, he was Ra-Hodok, he was a ‘Sun-Walker’ he was immortal and regardless of what anyone said or did he would rest until he had rescued his team and stopped Dratshev.

  Hakim sat and ate in silence. The Delta Force operatives were brave men, the best soldiers he had ever seen but even they would be in the fight of their lives against the Hamada. He could not understand the spoken words making up the conversations around him but he recognised the tone. The Americans were joking, releasing tension before the upcoming assault and washing away the horror of what they had seen at Firebase Python. Hakim wanted to be part of the attack on Ghulam Ali’s base; he wanted to exact his own revenge on the man who had continuously in one way or another sold his country and its people to the highest bidder for the last thirty years. The man was nothing more than a dog and Hakim would kill him as one. He heard cheers and then some of the Delta members started to clap. Hakim looked up and could not believe his eyes. He recognised the American walking towards him as one of the Deltas from Firebase Python. He stood as several Americans greeted the newcomer.

  Black froze as he saw the huge Afghan and then shook his head. If anyone could survive a vampire attack then it would be Hakim, the undisputed Afghan National Army ‘arm wrestling champion’. After shaking a couple of Delta hands he addressed the Afghan and extended his hand. “Salaam.” ‘Hello’.

  “As-salaamu' alaykum.” Hakim took the hand and shook it with a grip of iron. His face was quizzical. “Ta sanga yee?” ‘How are you’ he asked not expecting a long reply.

  Black replied in Pashto. “I’ve had better days. How did you escape the attack?”

  “I didn’t. I fought the Hamada.”

  “The vampires.”

  Hakim’s eyes w
idened “You know what they are? You have seen them?”

  “Yes.” Black said. “I have seen them, I have killed them.”

  “Sit.” Hakim gestured to a seat at his table. “They murdered my family many years ago. Ghulam Ali was party to that then and he is party to this now.”

  “I know.”

  Hakim looked into Black’s eyes and his nostrils flared. “What are you?”

  “I am a vampire.” It was the first time Black had said it aloud.

  Hakim’s eyes narrowed as his hand moved for his blade.

  “Stop.” Black’s hand was faster and grabbed the scabbard. “More importantly I am an American soldier. I am not one of Dratshev’s men.”

  “Dratshev.” The name filled Hakim’s mouth with a bitter poison. He let go of the knife but kept his eyes fixed on Black’s. “There were others.”

  Suddenly Black understood. “You are the one who helped Krasnov?”

  Hakim relaxed a fraction. “You know of Krasnov?”

  “It was Krasnov who rescued me when the Russians attacked us. He made me into a vampire.” Black moved his hands away from the scabbard. “We share the same enemy.”

  Hakim slowly reached for a bottle of water and drank before wiping his hand across his mouth. “Tell me Hamada, why are you not burning in the daylight?”