Escape The 1st Omnibus: WTF Books 1-3

by Lundy, W. J.

  “Brad, you up for a recon? We’re looking to take the inflatable in close, possibly to the beach. We will do some quick sneak and peek. If it’s all clear, Tony can bring in the boat,” Sean said.

  “I’m up for it. Have you heard from the air crew?”

  “Talked to them about thirty minutes ago; they’re tucked in to some high terrain south of the airfield, and so far, they haven’t seen anything. Bradley said it’s pretty barren from what they can see.”

  “Sounds like a good time. Give me a few minutes to suit up and I’ll be ready to go.”

  20.

  When Brad climbed back onto the deck, they already had the rigid inflatable sitting in the water with the front pulled up onto the dive deck. Brooks tossed Brad a small self-inflating life vest. “Make sure you wear your floaties. I don’t wanna have to go pullin’ your ass out of the drink,” Brooks said with a smile.

  Brad took the device and strapped it over his gear. He didn’t even try to pretend like he knew how it worked, so Brooks gave him a quick rundown on the mechanics of it. Basically, if he fell out of the raft, it would quickly fill with air from compressed cartridges. “Nice to have when you are wearing seventy pounds of gear in a small rubber boat trying to break the surf,” Brooks halfheartedly joked.

  Sean positioned Brad in the front of the raft and took a position opposite him, while Brooks had the helm. The engine turned over easily and they slowly moved away from the boat’s dive deck to head toward the shore. Sean got on the small radio and checked in with the boat and the Black Hawk crew. If they got into trouble, the Black Hawk could still provide air cover.

  The water was calm and the raft easily cut through the short swells. Brad looked up at the sun, thinking it would be a hot one today. They were just off the coast of Oman and he knew this part of the world could easily hit over a hundred degrees in the daytime. For now it was nice and cool, and the movement of the boat was creating a pleasant ocean breeze. In another time and place, this would have been a relaxing day at the beach.

  As the small raft slid through the water, they began to make out the harbor ahead of them. There were a number of docks farther south, and it appeared to be a civilian shipping port; judging by the ferry tied up and some larger shipping vessels. To the north, and closer to the air base, sat one long pier. A military vessel was positioned at the end of it. A large sandy cove was cut into the beach, with the mouth being next to the military pier.

  Brooks turned the craft slightly and headed towards the cove. As the raft got closer, they could see that the military ship was in a state of disrepair; maybe it had even been salvaged. There were holes cut into the hull; the ship was covered in rust and flaking paint. Brooks slowly cruised the raft past it and turned into the mouth of the cove. The water flattened out and he cut the engine, allowing them to drift and listen for sounds of company.

  The boat glided forward and hit the sand with a soft grinding sound. They sat quietly, listening to sea gulls squawk and the ocean waves lapping against the beach. Quickly dismounting the boat, Brad helped grab the handles as they dragged it ashore and tucked it next to a berm. Sean and Brooks then moved toward a small rise in the sand and dropped into the prone position. Brad followed their movements, staying just a step behind them.

  Sean had his binoculars out and was panning them along the beach and surrounding areas. Just over the berm, they could make out a small Navy shipyard of sorts. There were some heavy lift vehicles, fuel trucks, and several large wet storage containers. The pier next to them also held vehicles and a few small buildings. Sean slowly got to his knees and pointed to the end of the pier. Brooks nodded and stepped off briskly in a light trot.

  They moved parallel to the beach, using the berm as cover to conceal them from the shipyard. Once Brooks reached the pier, Sean and Brad moved in behind him. The pier rose about ten feet above the water and was made entirely of stone and earth, with the surface being poured concrete. Brooks moved towards the top of it and took up a concealed position while Sean and Brad ran past him and farther up the pier.

  They reached the first vehicle: a large fuel truck. The truck’s hoses were dragged out of the back and were hanging over the side of the pier. Brad moved around the truck and saw bullet holes in the windshield. The warm fuzzy feelings were starting to fade.

  “Looks like someone topped off here and got the hell out of Dodge fast,” Sean said.

  “See those bullet holes?” Brad asked.

  “Yup, maybe it was looters stealing fuel. Guards must have shot at them,” Brooks said, slowly walking over.

  “Looters, ha, you mean just like us?” Brad said.

  “Yup, something like that,” Brooks said as he inspected the truck. “This truck’s tank is dry. Chief, you want to clear the entire pier or move inland?”

  “Let’s call up the boat; they can anchor in the cove near the raft while we search for fuel. That should help keep them hidden,” Sean answered.

  Sean called Tony on the radio and gave him direction to the cove. Soon they saw the boat’s profile as it drew closer to the shore. Tony was moving slowly to keep the boat as quiet as possible. It moved around the pier and into the cove before Tony cut the engines. Nelson and Swanson were out on deck, dropping anchor lines and tying them off.

  From Brad’s angle, he was amazed by the image of the attack boat. He’d thought it looked large before, but it really was intimidating as well, with its large, sharp lines and grey, tiger-striped pattern. With the large cannon on the bow and the machine guns on the deck, it was a lot to take in. Too bad the primals couldn’t be scared off.

  Sean conversed with Tony over the radio, letting him know they would be searching for fuel, and planned to be back within the hour. This quick field trip was only to find fuel. The boat was already well provisioned, but they would need diesel for the boat and JP-8 for the Black Hawk to make it to Socotra Island.

  Brooks led the way, with Sean and Brad walking behind him. It felt good to be off of the platform and once again on solid ground. The pier was connected to a road that led farther inland, but also split off toward a gated compound. A sign in both Arabic and English indicated it was the tank farm. They followed the road toward the high fences and found a gate.

  The gates were cracked open, and destroyed padlocks hung from their locks. Brad helped Brooks pull the gates open. The entrance to the tank farm held two small guard shacks, which they cautiously approached and found empty. The small block buildings were intact, but the windows had all been broken out. There were several signs of a struggle in and around the guard shacks.

  Brooks continued forward until he spied a parking lot with a number of vehicles lined up. Toward the back, they found four large fuel trucks and a couple of maintenance vehicles. They patrolled in that direction, moving quietly and wary of any movement. They set up a mini-perimeter around the first fuel truck which had DIESEL painted on its side. Sean opened the cab door carefully and inspected the interior, while Brooks jumped to the back of the truck and opened a hatch to the vehicle’s tank. It was over three-quarters full, plenty to top off the attack boat. Upon inspecting the other three trucks, they found them also full of diesel. Brad had heard that a Black Hawk could fly on diesel, but he was sure Captain Bradley wouldn’t be happy about it. Hoping to find more, Brooks pushed forward toward the tank yard.

  They passed a large fuel point where several pumps and fuel lines were connected to a long string of pipes – exactly what they were looking for. A number of them were labeled as petrol and JP-8. Sean checked out the pumps and found them operational. Although there was no power, an emergency pump on the end appeared to be gravity-fed. It would take longer, but should work for the pilots.

  Brooks spotted a large guard tower and took to the high ground to provide security while they ran the refueling operations. Brad jumped into the cab of the large diesel refueler to start it, but the truck refused to turn over. They tried the other trucks; however, they also had dead batteries. Sean dug though the mainte
nance tow vehicle and found a starter cart with four, twelve-volt batteries strapped to it.

  Quickly they pulled the cart to the nearest fuel truck, and married the cart’s batteries to the truck’s engine compartment. Brad jumped back in the cab and pushed the start button. The truck clicked, groaned, and then roared to life. Sean pulled the cart out of the way and ran to the back of the truck, jumping onto the bumper. Brad ground the truck into gear and pulled forward out of the gate and headed toward the beach.

  He could see the top of the boat sticking above the berm, and Nelson running across the bow deck, readying the boat for the fuel truck’s arrival. Swanson and Nelson pulled the anchors and Tony guided the boat next to the pier just as Brad eased alongside of it. Sean quickly jumped out and pulled several feet of fuel line from a reel mounted on the rear of the truck.

  Swanson took the other end and connected it to the boat’s tanks. She gave the ready signal and Sean turned a wheel, releasing fuel to the boat. As they waited to top off the boat’s tanks, Sean called the air crew and gave them directions to the tank farm and indicated where they would need to land the bird. They all knew the helicopter would make some noise and possibly bring in unwanted attention, so the timing had to be perfect.

  Sean and Brad jumped out of the truck, leaving Nelson and Swanson to finish the refueling. They ran back to the tank farm and pulled a long hose out and away from the fuel point. Sean connected one end to the JP-8 spout and opened the valve. He watched the hose stiffen and he quickly shut the valve back off.

  “Brooks, how’s it looking up there?” Sean called over his radio.

  “All clear Boss, the airbase is looking like a ghost town,” Brooks answered.

  “Roger that, I’m going to call in the bird and get things refueled. Be ready to move back to the beach as soon as it lifts off,” Sean relayed back.

  Sean radioed the air crew and gave them the go. Within five minutes, they could hear the whooping of its blades. Just as Sean had asked, they came in from over the ocean instead of flying across the island. Bradley flew the helicopter low and fast. Staying low helped conceal the exact location of the helicopter as it approached the tank farm. The bird touched down in a huge cloud of dust. Sean and Brad turned their backs to the helicopter until it was powered down and the blades stopped spinning.

  As soon as it was stopped, Craig and Mr. Douglas jumped out and ran for the fuel nozzles. Mr. Douglas connected the fuel hose and gave Sean the thumbs up. Sean spun the wheel, opening the valve, and watched the hose stiffen as it filled with fuel. Mr. Douglas had told them they should be done in less than ten minutes. Sean received a call from the boat team that they had finished filling the tanks and were anchored back in the cove.

  Brad had moved away and was providing security near the maintenance trucks when Mr. Douglas yelled that all of the tanks were topped off, and for Sean to cut the fuel off. Sean spun the wheel and shut off the fuel feed. He then watched as Mr. Douglas disconnected the nozzle and handed it to Craig, who pulled the hose away from the helicopter.

  “We are all set here, Chief. Get clear and we can get airborne,” Captain Bradley yelled from the cockpit.

  Brooks leaned out of the tower and yelled, “We got company!”

  “Primals? How many?” Sean yelled back.

  “Nope, these look a tad bit more dangerous. I got two vehicles: a jeep and an open-back truck, ten, maybe fifteen men.”

  “Captain, hold off on the engines but be ready to go on my word,” Sean said as he walked past the bird. He met up with Brad and together they slowly walked towards the tank farm’s gate to greet the visitors.

  21.

  As they casually walked toward the gate’s entrance, Sean continued to communicate with Brooks, who was lying prone on the tower’s catwalk. Brooks had hidden himself in the shadows with his suppressed M14, and his radio headset was perfectly synched with Sean’s.

  “Keep eyes on them. Be ready to cover us. You prioritize your targets,” Sean calmly said into the radio.

  “You expecting trouble, Chief?” Brad asked as they walked to the center of the lane and watched the two vehicles drive around the corner.

  “Not expecting, Brad, just preparing for it. Stay frosty and let me do the talking. Be prepared to react.”

  The jeep pulled through the gate and stopped nearly twenty-five feet from where Brad and Sean were standing. The truck drove beyond the jeep and parked on the far side. Both vehicles were clearly marked as Oman military. The vehicles looked to be in good working order. Not combat ready, though. Brad thought they looked like security forces, possibly airport police.

  The soldiers jumped from the back of the open-topped truck and formed up around the side. They were standing in more of a gaggle than a military formation. Brad carefully watched the group of men. They didn’t have the mannerisms of professionals. They joked and held their rifles carelessly; even more alarming, they were not uniformly dressed. Some wore tennis shoes; one soldier was even in sandals. ‘Maybe these men are contract security?’ Brad thought to himself.

  Two men in military uniform climbed out of the jeep, one a tall, dark-skinned man with an African complexion, and the other a smaller, possibly Persian, man. Neither of them, nor the soldiers for that matter, appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent. Brad’s internal warning bells began to chime.

  The African man walked with the swagger that identified him as the one in charge. He spoke privately to the smaller man. The two pretended not to see Brad and Sean as they took their time walking back to the truck and speaking with their men. There was a great deal of laughing as the men nodded their heads in agreement with the man in charge.

  “Looks like we may be dealing with some arrogance, no telling who these fools are,” Sean whispered. “Just stay casual, hands off your weapons.”

  After several minutes, the two presumed officers turned, as if they had just noticed the presence of the uniformed Americans and the large helicopter sitting in front of them. The presumed leader turned and said something to the smaller man and they both laughed. They began strolling towards Brad and Sean. Brad saw that only the shorter man carried a rifle. The tall man had a holstered pistol.

  Brad noticed that the tall man was wearing a mix of uniforms. He had on a Saudi uniform jacket, with American-style MultiCam pants. His cover looked like an airline pilot’s cap, or maybe a ship’s captain’s hat. He was wearing the railroad track insignia that would identify him as an Army captain. The other man’s uniform was better put together, but it was of a completely different pattern and appeared to be an enlisted man’s rank.

  They stopped about eight paces away. They continued speaking to each other as if Brad and Sean were not there. The shorter man belted out an exaggerated laugh. Then the tall man locked eyes with Sean and spoke in a stern voice. Sean calmly shrugged his shoulders and showed the palms of his hands, indicating he did not understand the man’s language.

  The man shook his head. “Of course … Americans. You never bother to learn another language. Is this better for you?” the tall man said.

  “Oh yes, thank you, that’s much better. How can we help you gentleman?” Sean answered.

  At this both men let out another exaggerated laugh. “Help us … You are a funny American. You are stealing from us. You have stolen fuel and who knows what else.”

  “Oh come on, pal. You know what is going on in the world. We are just borrowing some fuel and we will be on our way. I’ll write you a receipt and I’m sure you will receive payment from Uncle Sam.”

  The men laughed again. Brad looked beyond the men and saw that the band of the soldiers had spread out and were holding their rifles nervously.

  The tall man stepped forward and shook his head in disappointment. “I am sorry, but we must place you under arrest; and I will have to confiscate your helicopter, and its crew.”

  “Oh is that so? Damn, this is just turning out to be a horrible day for me. I was hoping we would be able to work this out. So who is it again th
at’s arresting me?” Sean asked.

  Brad watched the men in the back closely. They had stopped moving and seemed to feel confident that they had the Americans trapped. They began to step closer, then halted again when they were less than fifteen feet away.

  “I am General Osman; I am in command of this entire base and island. Now you will surrender your weapons to me,” the tall man said in a stern voice.

  Sean used his hands to mockingly straighten his uniform, then looked back at the man, smiling. “Oh no way, shucks. My bad, General, the captain’s rank on your pirate uniform threw me for a spin there. I went and got all confused.” Sean stopped speaking for a second, then brought his eyes to the ground and shook his head from side to side. When he looked back up, he gave the general a serious stare.

  “You know what? Fuck it; I’m too tired for this horseshit today. See, I don’t know how you managed to put yourself in command. But I’m going to ask you really nice-like to turn around and go back to where you came from. All we need is a few minutes and you can have this island all to yourselves again.”

  The man was obviously shocked. He spoke rapidly to the short man next to him. Brad didn’t understand the words, but he could tell that the tall man was frustrated and not used to having his orders ignored.

  The general scowled. “I am going to give you a count of five, then my men will execute you. This will be your last warning. You are under arrest,” the tall man again demanded.

  “Well darn. I was really hoping that it wouldn’t come to this …. Brooks you still on? Yeah, this isn’t going well … Go ahead and take the short fat man …” Sean said.

  “Wait … who is this Brooks?” the fake general demanded.