by John O'Brien
“So we have to descend into that hole? Is there a path leading down?” Greg asks.
“We’ll need some rope since we’ll have to rappel in, sir. It’s about fifty feet down and then we have to scale a wall about thirty feet up,” Kyle explains.
“I wish you would have told me this before we arrived,” Greg says.
“Would you have come, sir?” Kyle asks.
Greg just stares back. In truth, he doesn’t know the answer to that question.
“And how do we get back out? How do we get the hostages out? We can’t very well expect them to climb a rope fifty feet up. Hell, I don’t know if I can,” Greg states.
“I was thinking we could go out the front. If it’s during the day, perhaps most of them will be gone,” Kyle responds.
“That’s not going to work. There are far too many variables that could leave us vulnerable. I guess we can knot the rope, climb out, and use a Swiss seat to haul the others up. The hostages have to be conscious. Understand if we go in, that’s a hard and fast rule. No exceptions. If they can’t hold onto the rope, we’ll have to leave them,” Greg states.
“Understood, sir.”
Greg doesn’t like having to lay it down like that, but he feels like his ass is hanging out in the breeze on this one. He looks over the area and ponders the situation. He runs variables through his mind to see if he will be able to counter them. The advantage is the narrowness of most of the cave system. The only problem he can foresee is if they encounter a large group and have to fight their way out. The fifty foot climb is the weak link in it all. Running scenarios in his head, he reaches a decision.
“Tomorrow morning, we leave at first light,” Greg says, backing out of his position.
As the two make their way to the vehicle, one thought keeps surfacing. It worries Greg and eats at his conscience. If these people truly chain someone up to the crosses daily, that means that someone is tied up at this very moment. Sometime during their crossing the road and traveling across the back country, vehicles left the establishment and made their way down, tied someone up, and left. Some poor soul is right now tied up and terrified of the coming night.
The crosses are three miles away and they could do the trip on foot in two hours under normal conditions. These are far from normal conditions. Greg can either leave the person out there, or risk their presence being known and try to rescue them. ‘Sacrifice the one for many’ keeps popping up in his mind but, if he were honest, that doesn’t always hold true. Yes, if there were a wounded soldier in front of the lines being used as bait, he would be more inclined to believe that, but even then, he knows he would try to save that soldier.
Inside the Stryker, he asks Kyle, “If we take the most direct route to the highway, will we be seen by those on the adjacent hill?”
“No, sir. The freeway curves at the base of this ridgeline and the hill will protect us from sight,” Kyle answers. “Why?”
Greg shares his thoughts. As he reaches the conclusion, many shocked eyes stare back at him.
“Shit, I should have thought of that,” Kyle says.
“Okay, gents, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to sneak the vehicle back down and hide near the highway. When it’s about to fold into nighttime, when we’re sure that the others must have returned to their lair, we’re going to make a dash to the crosses. We can’t waste any time. I want to be back on this road by the time true night hits. We can survive a couple of night runner packs, but we don’t want to bring an entire horde upon us. The highway is mostly clear due to their constant coming and going, so hopefully they won’t see any tracks we might leave behind,” Greg briefs.
Turning to the driver, Greg says, “Once we hit that highway, you keep us on the clear sections.”
“Hooah, sir.”
They inch their way back down the dirt road. The sun’s progress toward the mountains is faster than their slow creep. They reach a hidden place next to the freeway with just a touch of sun showing above the tall peaks. The bluish-gray of twilight seeps over the area, washing color out of the environment. With a last bright gleaming flare, the sun vanishes behind the mountains.
“Go…go now!” Greg says.
With an increase in the low whine of its engine, the Stryker lurches forward and dives toward the road. They swing left and accelerate. It’s not an Indy car, but the armored vehicle picks up speed quickly. The lowering of the sun causes darkness to come quicker than Greg could have imagined. It’s a klick to the crosses and the team covers it in a minute and a half, but even then, it’s almost dark by the time they get there.
The Stryker lurches to a halt. The ramp is thrown down before the vehicle fully stops. It hits the ground with a clang and sparks fly off the road as the door is dragged a few feet. Feet pound down the ramp into the darkness, three of the team setting up a quick perimeter around the vehicle as two run over to the crosses. Nearby, the first shrieks fill the night air.
Greg looks through the thermals and sees the hot outline of figures racing their way. The night runners in the area know where to get a free meal every evening. The images on the screen grow larger with each passing second as they race down the roadway.
“Hurry it up out there,” Greg shouts. “Trouble’s on the way.”
Greg lines up the crosshair on the incoming figures. He doesn’t want to fire as the noise from the .50 cal will carry long distances through the thin air. Steps running up the rear ramp send tremors through the steel. The clang of the hatch closing and rasp of the handles as they are set are music to his ears.
“We’re clear, sir,” one of the soldier yells.
“Get us the fuck out of here,” Greg says to the driver as the first of the night runners pound on the steel hull.
“Copy that, sir.”
The vehicle heaves backwards. Once in motion, the driver floors it and they retreat with the whitish-yellow figures of night runners giving chase. The forms eventually grow smaller and seem to give up. The driver hits the brakes in order to turn them around as he can’t see to the rear of the vehicle. Keeping them on the road was a matter of looking at the road in front and hoping there weren’t any corners. A thump overhead tells of a night runner on top that has fallen from the sudden stop.
Greg pans the small gun turret around just in time to see a night runner get to its feet. It fills the screen and Greg depresses the trigger for a split second. A single round exits the barrel and catches the night runner in its midriff. The explosive force of the heavy caliber round rockets the night runner backward. Greg watches as it is hurtled from the top and drops from view.
That’s going to cause notice in the morning, Greg thinks, regarding the other group finding a dead night runner in the middle of the road.
Scanning the area, Greg doesn’t see any sign of the night runner getting up and running away. Nor is there any sight of the others. It seems all clear around them. The driver begins his turn.
“Driver, stop.” To the others, he says, “There’s a night runner out there that I shot off the top. We can’t have the others find it in the morning. Get out and pick up the body.”
The hatch drops once again. Moments later, two of the soldiers drag the carcass of a night runner aboard, dropping it in the middle of the floor. The round did a tremendous amount of damage, almost tearing the night runner in half. Blood covers its tattered clothing and exits its nostrils and mouth. Entrails leak from its torso. Diane eyes the pale figure once and vomits into the mess. A couple of the other soldiers turn pale as well. The stench of bowels and vomit permeates the Stryker.
Greg looks to Kyle and nods forward. Kyle gathers Diane and makes her look into his eyes. He then directs her forward where Greg settles her into a corner where at least the sight of the night runner is minimized. The smell, however, grows stronger until everyone is gagging.
“Move…now!” Greg commands the driver.
The motion causes blood to run down the narrow aisle. The stench becomes a physical presence ma
king it hard to breathe. The Stryker reaches its exit point and they begin their slow climb into the hills once again. Greg halts them half way up the quarry road and has the night runner carcass tossed down into the ravine. Brandishing the few towels they have, the team cleans up the blood, feces, vomit, and a few pieces of the night runner left behind. After finishing, the smell is still there but much diminished.
It’s now that Greg looks at the poor soul the team rescued. Through the grunge covering him, Greg sees that it’s a young lad about twelve years old. He looks to Kyle asking if this is his brother. Kyle shakes his head. The other soldiers check his vitals and assure Greg that the boy is only unconscious but should recover. They slowly resume their ascent and reach their former position.
With very little sleep because of the reek, the team emerges at first light. For some, it feels like the first time they’ve been able to draw a full breath in months. Greg organizes the team – two will stay with the Stryker, the remaining five will accompany him. The boy they rescued moans but doesn’t waken. The two remaining will attend to him and Diane while the others are away.
“Clean up this mess while we’re gone. We don’t want to have to suffer through it another night. If you haven’t heard from us by morning, leave and make your way back to the compound.”
Gathering the others at the rim, Greg shows them the cave entrance and their approach. He still hasn’t reckoned whether this will be just to rescue the prisoners or whether he’ll bring the horrors committed here to an end. He’ll have to play that one by ear.
Dirt puffs out with each step as Kyle guides them along the sand which has been ground down to a fine powder from the heavy equipment traveling back and forth across its surface. The early morning sun casts long shadows from the hills and undulations inherent in the open mine. Each team member has a coil of rope draped around their neck extending under their arm. The arrangement allows them freedom of movement should it come down to a firefight. The tension emanating from each is palpable and they make their way in silence.
Greg’s heart is pounding, but his mind is too busy with thoughts to take notice. He is engaged in running the scenario endlessly through his head – searching for something he may have missed. They toil onward until they find themselves at the mouth of a steep ravine leading downward between steep bluffs. To Greg, the angle seems more like one of the speed slides you’d find at a water park than a path. Only this water slide is complete with rocks, scrub brush, and scree which would make the ride unenjoyably painful.
With careful slowness, they begin their descent in single file due to the narrowness of the ravine. At first they only have to skirt around brush and over stunted fallen pine trees. The angle steepens and they soon find themselves scrambling over boulders and through rocky shale. They struggle to keep quiet and not dislodge any rocks which would start a small landslide. From here, any noise they make will be carried along the valley floor, echoing off the steep bluffs…and to the buildings.
The caution and care required to make the descent takes the soldiers’ minds from their impending mission as all thought and action is directed toward staying on their feet. Anyone starting to fall is caught by the teammate behind them until they are stable enough to continue. More than once, lips press tight to refrain from uttering curses. They know that the mission is entirely dependent on a stealthy approach, and they strive to keep it that way.
Greg, making his way behind Kyle, slides across yet another boulder. The tall hills to either side make him think just how small the team really is. They are five people struggling down an incline and attempting to infiltrate a base, potentially outnumbered eight to one. They are far from any support and if they get caught in the open, they could become just five bodies rotting in this wilderness valley – quickly forgotten. They’d be no different than the billions lying in homes, parking lots, fields, and buildings. Nothing but bones bleaching under the sun year after year. He shakes these thoughts loose as they reach the bottom.
Some day that will be true, but today isn’t that day, he thinks, gathering in his surroundings.
The valley is in shadows with sunlight only illuminating the top of the bluffs on the western side. The cliffs rise sharply on either side of the narrow valley floor. The gorge they are in looks like it was created by a jagged knife splitting the hills in two. Stunted pine trees dot the sides with clumps of scrub brush growing between. The shrubs become denser on the valley floor but there is a small path that meanders through the shoulder-high bushes. It’s no wider than a game trail but, most importantly, it’s free of tracks.
In single file, they begin a slow march south along the floor. The path rises a short distance on one hill and then crosses the valley floor to proceed along the adjacent hill, eventually intersecting a larger path. Greg halts them in the bushes and observes the path with Kyle.
From here, the outline of the rooftop of the structure sitting atop the opposite cliff is visible. The dirt path is wide enough to comfortably accommodate two people walking side by side and proceeds up the bluff in a series of switchbacks.
“Sir, this path leads to the sink hole. We won’t be seen until we reach the very top. If there’s anyone inside the back of the building, they’ll have a direct view of the path and entrance,” Kyle says.
“Let’s hope no one’s home then,” Greg states.
With that, they leave the cover of the bushes in intervals and begin scaling the path. Greg takes the lead and feels tension build the closer he draws to the top. His mouth goes dry as adrenaline begins seeping into his system. His heartbeat pounds in his ears and he subconsciously strokes the trigger guard of his M-4 pointed ahead of him. Slowly, more of the building is revealed as he climbs higher. After negotiating the switchbacks, he nears the top and goes prone, crawling the last few feet toward the crest.
Listening, he only hears the swish from a strong breeze that blows through the trees and bushes. Below, the wind travels down the narrow canyon with a soft roar. Peeking over the edge, he sees the rear of the structure. What he initially took to be a series of buildings is actually a single one – the differing angles of the structure joined together. Windows show at the rear, the ones on the eastern side reflect the strong sunlight filtering down. Near the building is the sinkhole. Around it, a single rope runs through rings attached to the top of metal poles sunk into the ground. He watches for any sign of movement.
Assured that no one is observing this part of the facility, he crawls backward to the rest of the team.
“Okay, it doesn’t appear that anyone is watching. We need to work fast. There are metal poles surrounding the sinkhole. We’ll use one of them to secure the line. Kyle, do you have the knotted rope?”’
Kyle nods. The previous night, they put knots every three feet in a length of rope that would hopefully reach the bottom. This will aid guide their descent and their later ascent.
“We’ll move quickly and set up against the wall of the building. Kyle, you secure the rope and descend, when he vanishes, the next will proceed. NVGs on when it gets dark enough. Any questions?” Greg briefs.
A nod from every member indicates that they understand and are ready to go. Greg sequences their order of descent with him going down last. They crawl upwards on their stomachs and spread across the crest. Greg watches for any changes and sees none.
“Go,” he says softly.
As one, they rise and scramble across the short distance, going into ready positions against walls near the picture windows. Kyle races to the hole. Taking the rope off his shoulders, he quickly ties it around one of the steel poles set in concrete. Giving a sharp tug to test its weight-bearing capability, he looks to Greg and gives a nod. Greg returns the nod. Kyle swings his legs into the hole and begins lowering himself. His head vanishes and Greg nods to the next soldier.
Greg feels the coolness of the building through his clothing and vest. The sun is warming the walls, but the chill is still there. The climb was a steep one which caused more than on
e trickle of sweat to seep down his back. Blinds are drawn across the large panes of glass looking across the back of the building which gives them a measure of concealment. He notes each soldier making sure that their shadows don’t reach across windows as their turn comes to race to the hole and descend. He hears Kyle on the radio saying that he has reached the cavern floor and that the rope is more than long enough. As each soldier mounts to rappel down, the rope gives a creak of strain, but both it and the metal pole hold. The last soldier vanishes and, with a last look at the windows, Greg races to the hole and begins his descent.
The knots are both a help and hindrance as he descends. They don’t allow for a quick rappel and he has to go down hand –over-hand. However, it will make it much easier to climb. The rope swings slightly as he makes his way down, but with the bottom being held tight by those below, the sway is minimal. After a short distance, the darkness closes over him. IN the dark, the light streaming in through the hole above is dazzling. Dust motes dance in and out of the beam of light shining into the cavern depths. Greg pauses to lower his NVGs. The cavern springs to life with a green glow. He finishes his descent and joins the others.
Kyle was right about the temperature, it’s near freezing and plumes of breath are visible with each exhalation. Greg shivers as the cold envelopes him, but then he pushes it out of his mind. Nearby, a wall climbs out of the cavern with a cave exiting at the top. Kyle indicates that’s their path. Carabiners are attached to the rock surface with ropes leading upward. Dropping their ropes near their descent point, they make their way to the wall over the uneven, rocky ground.
The climb is an easy one with plenty of outcroppings to use as footholds. Before long, they are all kneeling in the upper cave. From here, it will all be hand signals and low whispers as the cave will carry the sound of their voices far into its depths.