Insurgency

by Alex Shaw

  “Understood. RTB. Repeat. RTB.”

  Team two exfiltrated the compound as Hot Blood now provided covering fire. When he was certain that the Americans were clear General Hudson calmly assumed command from Matthers. He spoke directly to the two-man crew of the USAF Apache and ordered them to deploy a pair of Hellfire missiles on the target. All evidence of the fire-fight would be destroyed. He did not want any more trouble from Ghulam Ali’s private army.

  Nearer to the scene and watching his own feed, Dratshev was both irritated and perplexed. His serum had worked for mere minutes before wearing off. All the test subjects had been immolated but then something again had caught his eye. Could it be? Could it really be so? Was Ra blessing him? He watched the recording again. The footage inside the hostage hut showed both Styles and yes, it was Black, fighting to the death. But it showed not only Styles, but Black too rising once more. Dratshev slowed the tape and focussed his eyes. Black should be dead, he should have bled out but he hadn’t. Black was immortal, Black could exist in sunlight. Black was Ra-Hodok…

  SIX: Camp Leatherneck, Helmand Province, Afghanistan

  It had been only a couple of hours since the end of the operation but Matthers was still livid that Hudson had taken command of his mission. He had now been summoned by Hudson to his temporary office in Camp Leatherneck to be debriefed. Matthers had sat and bitten his British stiff upper lip for five full minutes but could now control himself no longer.

  “Classified? Are you telling me I am not cleared to know what the hell happened at that Taliban base?”

  “Correct.” Hudson folded his arms.

  “How can that be? I am the UKSF liaison officer for ISAF!”

  “Colonel Matthers, what we have here is something my President has deemed way above your pay scale. Even I am forced to be a messenger boy, and the message is: thank you for your great support but we shall take it from here.”

  “We General? This is an ISAF operation. WE are ISAF not the US, WE the International community. Where is any of this in the ISAF mandate?”

  Hudson felt no annoyance; he knew the Brit would be angered. “Rest assured your Prime Minister and ISAF command is fully aware of the situation. Once again Colonel, your work has been greatly appreciated.” Hudson stood, none too subtle a sign that the meeting was over and Matthers should leave.

  “This is highly irregular.”

  Hudson extended his hand. “We are the goddam Special Forces Colonel, irregular is our regular.”

  Matthers shook Hudson’s hand. “General.”

  “Colonel.”

  Matthers left the pre-fab office and stepped into his waiting Land Rover.

  “Home sir?” His driver asked.

  “Yes Palmer, unless you know of any good bars?”

  Palmer smirked, ‘Heroes’ was the pub in Bastion but it was ‘dry’. Both Bastion and Leatherneck were ‘dry bases’ which in a desert he though was outrageous. “If I knew of one I’d take you.”

  Matthers nodded. “I believe you would Palmer.”

  The Land Rover moved away from the pre-fabricated office buildings and back onto the main access road linking the US compound, Camp Leatherneck to the main British-run core of Camp Bastion. It was only when Matthers moved from one part of the base to another that he really appreciated the true enormity of ISAFs presence in Afghanistan. Camp Bastion in mileage was approximately the size of Matthers’ hometown of Reading. Unlike Reading however Bastion housed thirty thousand international servicemen and women, one of the world's busiest airports with two runways handling over six hundred aircraft a day, a large helicopter base and the Afghan National Army’s own Camp Shorabak. In short the drive was noisy with the roar of aircraft overhead and the grunting of diesel engines on the ground. Matthers used this to black out his anger over the meeting with Hudson. In all his years with the British Armed Forces he had never been brushed off in such a manner. He thought back to the initial Intel he had been given by the Americans on the cave complex and the specific orders that came with them. The Americans had been very insistent, Delta were to be tasked with the Op and no any other SF unit. It had seemed nothing more than the usual overbearing ‘American demand’ at the time, but now the more Matthers thought about it the stranger it became. There were many competent officers in his command within ISAF so why had he been ‘asked’ specifically to oversee the Op and why had the Deltas been requested? He had only been in post for eleven months and the Op had to go through him, officially but...but he was no fool and knew the Americans could and did often act autonomously. They owned the satellites, the drones, the Intel. Had they been pretending to abide by the rules, to play down the reason for the Op? He sat up straighter, would he now be held responsible for the loss of Firebase Python? Was he to blame for the loss of both US and Afghan lives? Matthers had never been one to panic, in fact he had never believed in the concept of a panic attack, but as he bumped back to his office in the Land Rover he felt his chest tighten. As another helo circled overhead he could feel the buzzards readying themselves to swoop down and feast on his lifeless carcass.

  Turner watched Matthers arrive back at the entrance to the compound which housed the members of the UKSF. On the pretence of getting some more candid footage of the neighbouring logistics personnel and their views on everyday life at Camp Bastion, she had managed to get close enough to wait for him. Turner nodded at Raymond who continued to film a truck being laden with cooking oil, then crossed the service road and approached the guard in the small hut at the blast wall.

  “I’m Paige Turner. I’ve got an appointment with Colonel Matthers. He is expecting me.”

  The British soldier studied the BBC journalist; he’d never seen her in the flesh before and had to stop himself from drooling like a schoolboy. “I can’t let you in without his direct instruction Ms turner.”

  She smiled at him. “Then please could you call him? I would really appreciate your help.”

  Matthers’ head rested on his desk, his forehead sticking to the metal surface. He heard a ringing in his ears, then realised it was the phone. “Yes. What is it?”

  “There is a Ms Turner at the gate to see you, sir.”

  Matthers sat up. He wanted to be alone, in order to think but then again he also needed to vent his anger and putting the supercilious woman in her place would help. “Send her in.”

  Two minutes later there was an assertive knock at his door then it opened. “Colonel Matthers.”

  “Ms Turner. What can I do for you?”

  “Colonel I’ve come for my story.” She was brusque as usual.

  “What story?” He gestured for her to sit.

  “The exclusive you promised me after the rescue Op was over.”

  “Ah, that exclusive.”

  “Yes.”

  “So tell me what you would like to know.”

  Turner wrinkled her brow in frustration. “Everything but let’s start with how the Taliban were able to wipe out a firebase and take its CO and several Deltas hostage.”

  “I don’t know and if I did I couldn’t tell you.”

  “But there must have been some indication that the base was going to be attacked, I mean ISAF must have had ‘eyes on’?”

  “I’m sorry I can’t answer that either.”

  “What about the Russian?

  “No comment and no clue.”

  “So what questions can you answer for me?”

  “None Ms Turner, the operations I run here are classified.”

  Turner tried to control her rising resentment. “Is that it then?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a silence as Turner stared at Matthers before she stood. “Thank you Colonel.”

  “The pleasure was all mine Ms Turner.”

  Turner left the office, went back through the security post at the blast wall and crossed the road. She found Raymond sitting on a crate looking into his camera.

  “That was quick.”

  “The bastard clammed up on me.”
r />   “Oh?”

  “He said that he can’t tell me anything as what he does here is classified. The sod pumped me for Intel and now won’t share any of his.”

  Raymond grimaced. “You let him ‘pump’ you?”

  “Shut up. You know what I mean. Now what have I got?”

  Raymond stood and hoisted his camera onto his shoulder. “You’ve got what we came to ‘the Stan’ for; you’ve got your documentary.”

  “But there is something else happening here, something big, I can feel it.” She caught Raymond’s eyes. “Stop it. Dirty bugger. It’s always sex with you isn’t it?”

  “And that surprises you how? Come on, there’s no use us being here let’s get back to our tent – at least we can look at what footage we have.”

  Turner put her hands on her hips and sighed. “O.k.”

  The two Black Hawks shadowed by Hot Blood flew directly to Camp Bastion. The injured Deltas and recovered hostages were immediately taken to the US infirmary at Camp Leatherneck whilst the remaining Deltas were hurried away to their secure barracks to log in their equipment before being debriefed.

  As the ten remaining Deltas trooped into the briefing room, Black noticed that he was the only man in the room without even a scratch. No fingers had been pointed yet but Rockbridge, Gonzalez, Ibanescu and Hicks had seen him go down at the hand of Styles only to rise seemingly ‘from the dead’ moments later. The feed from their helmet cams would also show what had happened, including the fact that Styles had been immune to their rounds. Black swore silently. He had forgotten about the helmet cams, they were worn so much that they became just another item of kit. But he was a badged member of Delta Force and if he did possess ‘super-human’ abilities then he would use them to serve his President and his Nation. What he would have to explain however was Styles, why he had attacked. Black sat in silence and looked at the floor whilst the other Deltas yakked. The door opened and he prepared to have his ears chewed by Matthers. It was not Matthers however who entered the room but an officer that Black did not recognise. It was a General. His hair was a stark white and he carried a few extra pounds around his waist.

  “Gentlemen and I use that term very loosely on you bunch of Delta reprobates; that was a job well done.”

  There were a few sly smiles around the room but no one spoke.

  “You may be asking yourself ‘who the heck I am’ or using stronger words. I’m General Hudson, boys the President has sent me here to thank you personally. In seeking out those responsible for the American and Afghan lives lost when Firebase Python fell, you showed courage and tenacity. For that reason I am informing you of this personally; talk of what you think you may or may not have seen at the Taliban base or in the caves cannot leave this room. The Taliban insurgents had help from an outside state sponsored source; you have put a stop to this. What you have fought against today is a new type of enemy. Gentlemen I will not insult you by going further, but needless to say that this mission comes under Executive Order 13526 and has been rated as Top Secret. That is all for now, Gentlemen.”

  Black watched as Hudson left the briefing room. A moment later he and the remaining Deltas trailed out. Black didn’t know what he could say or who he could say it to. Was he meant to act as though nothing had happened, was he meant to pretend that he was not a vampire? He had killed another Delta operative; he had murdered Minute-Man. He stopped, suddenly realising that he didn’t know where he was meant to be heading. He was part of an Advanced Force Operations team whose operational base had been destroyed and he had yet to be reassigned. “Hey Nomad, am I with you guys now?”

  “I guess, until we hear otherwise.”

  “That’s a yes.” Albrecht added. “So what the hell happened back there?”

  “You heard what Hudson said? We’re not meant to be talking about the mission.”

  Albrecht gave Black a sideways glance. “Who gives a shit what the brass say?”

  The three Deltas headed towards the general area of the infirmary, away from the rest of the assaulters. The two members of Albrecht’s team that had been hit by enemy fire were both receiving urgent but non-life threatening medical treatment. Ibanescu was in a more serious condition. Four rounds had hit him; two had not exited and had all but torn him apart inside. The medical staff had been frantically attempting to stabilise him.

  Albrecht shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it; it was like shooting fish in a barrel. But the fish didn’t friggin die.”

  “Peter Pan did tell you what to expect.” Hicks said, putting his hand on Black’s shoulder.

  “Yeah but, c’mon no offence, I didn’t believe you.”

  Hicks checked they were out of earshot of anyone else before he tightened his grip on Black’s shoulder. “Tell me about Minute Man.”

  Black stopped and stared at the two men. “He was a vampire. He was attacked in the caves at the same time as me.”

  “I saw the way he fought you, I filled him full of rounds but then he got up and so did you. Peter Pan are you a vampire?”

  Albrecht’s chest started to heave as he attempted to control his laughter. “Is that what they were?”

  “What else could they have been?” Hicks answered as he held Black’s gaze.

  “Come on, vampires?”

  “German, you saw them, you shot them but now you don’t believe in them?” Black said.

  “I don’t believe in the Muslim faith but I can sure kill Talibs. Were those Talibs vampires? No. Why? Because vampires do not exist. Were those Talibs as high as kites on Afghanistan’s finest national export? Yep, that is what it was.”

  “So they were high - I’ll buy that, but how do you account for them igniting?” Asked Hicks

  “Hey, I didn’t say I understood what I saw.”

  “So Black, you a vampire?”

  “Are you three with Delta?” A voice asked before Black could reply.

  Hicks turned and saw a Doctor who had emerged from the infirmary. “If you need to ask I can’t tell you.” He said flatly.

  “The sergeant is not making much sense, he is asking for a Peter Pan?”

  “Wendy is standing right here.” Albrecht nodded at Hicks.

  The doctor ignored the wise cracks and asked again. “Is there a Delta on base with the call-sign of Peter Pan? If so you need to get him here.”

  “I’m Peter Pan.”

  “Follow me. We are losing him.” The Doctor marched back to his lair.

  Uruzgan Province, Afghanistan

  Outside the cave a vicious wind battered the mountain with a banshee’s howl, whilst inside the real ghouls were addressed by their commander. “Black is the creature we have been trying to find for millennia, but the irony is that he was sired by the traitor Krasnov!”

  “Then we must find Krasnov and test him, perhaps it is he who holds the answer?” Vaha the Chechen, questioned.

  “An understandable observation, but the rest of us have seen Krasnov sire others, he is nothing special. The man is a traitor that is all. I have no doubt that it is Black’s DNA which is the salient factor in this. And now Black is in the middle of one of the world’s largest military bases. To attempt to take him from there would be suicide even for us.”

  “I do not agree with that.” Kirill, the oldest after Dratshev stated. “They would not be expecting an attack; they believe their base to be impregnable.”

  “Never the less it would prove even too much for us.”

  “So what is your suggestion Comrade General?” Victor asked slowly.

  “We know where he is now and we must wait until he is moved to a less secure location. Ghost, you have the best knowledge. What is your opinion?”

  Miller thought for a moment. “Any wounded Americans would be flown back to the US via Germany.”

  “Where Specifically in Germany?”

  “They would be flown into Ramstein Air Base and taken to the Landstuhl Regional Medical Centre.”

  “The infirmary at Leatherneck is well eq
uipped but the centre at Landstuhl is the biggest Military hospital outside of the US. The two men you held hostage and any inured Deltas will be taken there to be assessed.”

  “And this will include Black?” Dratshev asked.

  “Yes.”

  “But how can Black be injured?” Vaha asked.

  Miller sneered. “We Americans have become soft. Black will be given counselling because he has been through a traumatic chain of events.”

  Dratshev let his lips form a thin smile. “Are you certain of this?”

  “If I could place a bet on it I would.”

  “Then we shall snatch him in Germany.” Dratshev had one more weapon and calculated that it would remain concealed until then. “We now are nearer the end of our quest than we have ever been. We shall secure Black and then we shall find a cure for our curse.”

  Vaha climbed up the slope to where their helo had been hidden next to the wreckage of a soviet era tank to disguise it from the ‘unblinking eye’ of ISAF. Mortal men could not have moved the rusting hulk, but he and his group were not mortal men. They were warriors who moved at night and gave away no heat signatures to be spotted by drone or satellite. They were invisible and invincible. They were The Vampires. Vaha assessed the wind, too strong no doubt for the women who flew the ISAF helos but not for him the ‘vampire of Grozny’. He had earned his place with Dratshev for he had led countless missions against the Islamic militants who had taken over his homeland of Chechnya. He had flown into areas that others said were impossible to navigate in and he had personally pressed the switch to annihilate hundreds of insurgents and collaborators. Vaha was a Chechen yet whilst human he had despised with a passion how religion was twisted and used an agent of oblivion. Those who did not question had become like goats in the field. Chechens were a proud and noble race but they had been corrupted. In Grozny Vaha had been carrying out the wishes of Moscow, which mirrored his own when he had been brought down by a lucky shot from an RPG. Captured by militants he had been tortured for days by the ‘Islamic International Brigade’ until on the very edge of death a man he had not known had rescued him and given him a real chance at life, a chance to avenge, a chance to make a difference. Dratshev had made him vampire and he became one of The Vampires. Vaha was proud and had served Dratshev ever since. Now the squabbles of the humans meant nothing to him. Vaha reached the Black Hawk and opened the door to start pre-flight checks.