“Doc,” Rip called loudly with no reason for stealth after all the gunfire.
When Doc didn’t answer, Matt took a closer look and realized one of the SEALs lying torn and bleeding at his feet was in fact their doc.
“Goddamn it,” Matt yelled to no one in particular.
John couldn’t take another second of inaction. “Bro, we need to maneuver on these fuckers right now.”
“You, Rip and Denver flank ’em while we draw their fire,” was all Matt said.
Without waiting to see who these two men even were or whether either heard Matt, John turned and ran down the levy away from the Humvee to a bend in the river, where he slid down the bank and into the shockingly cold river water. John kept his head above the water as he shifted the rifle to his back and began a strong sidestroke toward the opposite shore. The two splashes behind him said he had the two partners Matt had assigned to this detail.
When John reached the other side of the river, he felt wet, cold and heavy as he scrambled up the embankment and over the levy on the west side. Once Denver and Rip scrambled up the riverbank, the three warriors ran in a crouch, staying low until they reached the road leading to the bridge where the Humvee sat. John was close enough to the vehicle to see the man in the turret as he popped up, fired wildly, then slid back down into the ill-perceived safety of the armored vehicle.
Rip was carrying an M203 mounted to the bottom of his rifle and shouldered his way past John and Denver. Rip took a knee, aimed carefully at the Humvee, waiting for the man to appear so he could play high-explosive whack-a-mole. When the machine gunner appeared, there was a hollow pop as Rip pulled the trigger. The round landed less than a foot from the turret’s opening, nearly cutting the soldier in half.
The combination of the explosion, which rocked the Humvee, and the tattered remains of his comrade falling down from the turret was too much for the driver’s already overwrought nerves. The man was only twenty-three years of age, had never experienced combat, and was ordinarily a nervous person by nature. His right foot instinctively mashed the gas pedal, and the Humvee lurched forward as his radioman, who sat in the back seat, screamed into his radio mic.
John and Rip did not know any of what was going on inside the chaotic Humvee, but the fact that it raced away was all they cared about. With the Humvee fleeing the area, the SEALs behind the levy wasted no time in moving to John and Rip’s position. As the SEALs were making the hundred-yard dash, John clapped Rip on the shoulder.
“Nice shot, bro,” John said, elated Rip was a surgeon with the M203.
Matt and what was left of his team came running to John’s position, faces awash in serious expressions. John knew the look; it was the look of men who’d lost a close brother-in-arms and who weren’t out of harm’s way yet. The looks would change when the fighting came to an end and each man was afforded the time to mourn their loss. John knew better than to say anything while there was fighting left to do, so he sat silently, waiting for Matt to take charge and get things going again.
The eight men carrying the fallen SEALs laid their friends on the hard ground, then stood and looked to Matt for guidance. Both SEALs who’d been hit were very dead, and everyone in the little cluster of warfighters knew it. Knowing his two men were dead, Matt drew a deep breath in anticipation for what was to come. Matt exhaled, steeling himself ahead of his making a very difficult decision.
“Strip ’em of gear, not clothes, and let’s get them into the river. It’s not the sea, but it’ll have to do.” In less than forty-five seconds the dead were stripped of rifles, web gear and their body armor. Four of Matt’s SEALs carried the two dead men down the embankment and, as reverently as the situation would allow, set them into the river. The two SEALs floated out into the murky waters of the river as the group watched. The first man was named Dale, and he’d been in the teams for over a decade. The second man was Ty, who’d only recently arrived in the SEAL teams. Ty had just enough time to get a single combat deployment under his belt before the solar flare hit. Both men would be missed, and both men would haunt Matt’s dreams for many nights to come.
“Let’s go, boys,” Matt muttered with a hint of venom in his tone. “Gloves are officially off now. Everyone out here is an enemy until we’re clear of that fucking base. Anyone who tries to stop us dies, for Dale and Ty.”
“Fucking A,” Denver growled.
Matt didn’t need to say another word. Every man knew what had to be done if they wanted to live to see the sun rise. The SEALs also knew they must shake the soldiers before the sun rose, or they would be in serious trouble. The terrain surrounding the base was flat, and flat did not lend itself well to undersized foot units being hunted by mechanized units of superior numbers.
The SEALs and their newly acquired Special Missions partner picked up the slow jog from before, continuing along the river’s edge away from the base. During their stop to bury their dead, John and Matt looked at a map and realized they would be negotiating several more sections of the river where they could be set upon like the last time. Matt would not be making the same mistake twice, intending to scout out the next bridge, and if there was a Humvee waiting for them, he would know what Carnegie was trying to do.
Matt figured Carnegie was banking on the SEALs heading for water, but Matt wasn’t quite ready to abandon the river, figuring if he found the upcoming bridge manned, he’d know the colonel’s plan. Matt wished they had access to an AT-4 rocket so he could disable each Humvee as they clashed with it. The Humvee Rip had torn into was fully operational after the grenade hit. Matt felt it was likely the reason the vehicle fled had been due to injuries associated with the M203 strike. Not surprising since most of the soldiers he’d seen on Carnegie’s base were greener than spring grass.
After the two explosions, Jared heard nothing for several moments. Slowly he fumbled around in the dark for his pack and withdrew the NVG. He kicked himself for not having them more accessible, but when he’d crawled into the sleeping bag, sleep had been the only thing on his mind. In the blackness of a cloud-covered California night, they were nearly as valuable as a rifle.
“What was that?” Shannon hissed out of the darkness.
Jared pulled the NVG over his eyes and turned to see Shannon along with the rest of the group, except Essie, sitting up in their sleeping bags. Shannon’s face was bathed in the green glow of the NVG’s imaging technology, giving her an almost supernatural look.
“Dunno,” Jared whispered. “Sounded pretty far away though.”
Devon was up now, rifle held in his hands and his pack resting easily on his thin shoulders. “Want me to go out and see what’s happening?” Devon offered.
“Yeah,” Jared responded. “See what you can see, but don’t get too close to anyone. These guys are all military people and probably are on high alert because of whatever is happening. Want the goggles?” Jared offered.
Devon shook his head, causing a smile to creep into the corners of Jared’s mouth. The teen was truly special when it came to being comfortable sneaking about in the night.
“You mind going out the back? I’ll help you with the ladder,” Jared asked as he got to his feet and moved carefully toward the catwalk. He didn’t want Devon leaving through the front of the barn because they would need to open up. If anyone was watching the barn, it would be a perfect time to move on Jared and his friends. Devon leaving down the back side of the barn was far safer in Jared’s limited tactical estimation.
Together and with ten times the amount of noise as Jared would have liked, he and Devon got the ladder through the back opening, after which Devon slithered down while Crank paced anxiously at Jared’s feet. When the teen was on the ground, Jared tried pulling the heavy wooden ladder up, but was unable to. Devon tried to help from the ground, but soon gave up and vanished into the cold Cimmerian night.
Jared made his way back to Stephani and asked her to sit at the back entrance and shoot anyone coming up the ladder who wasn’t Devon. Essie was now awake
and asking questions about why everyone was up. Shannon was quietly explaining to the girl that something was happening, but it was a long way from where they all were. Jared tousled Essie’s hair as he moved past the two, heading for the opening at the front of the loft.
Staring out into the night, Jared could see fairly well, his eyes drinking in the green glow of his surroundings through the NVG. He searched the flat land in front of him and saw nothing but flat land. If the explosions had set anything on fire, the light of the fire would have been visible for miles, but Jared saw no such illumination. After a few minutes, he squatted, then sank to his butt and crossed his legs, pulling his knees up close to his chest, trying to trap a little of the precious heat he felt escaping his body. Sadly, Jared thought, no one was going back to bed tonight, not after hearing several unexplained explosions.
A while later, Jared sat staring numbly out into the night when gunfire erupted in the distance. The initial weapon sounded loud and throaty unlike the snappier sound of the rifle fire Jared had heard in the past. Within seconds, the sound of what Jared assumed was return fire sounded. The return fire sounded like firecrackers in Jared’s opinion. The exchange continued for nearly two minutes until Jared heard the low whomp of yet another explosion. The explosion was followed by the distant sound of a vehicle’s motor revving before quiet tranquility reigned once again.
Jared was now more confused than ever, wondering what all the explosions and gunfire meant. He hadn’t been fully awake for the first several explosions, so it was hard to say how far away they’d been. This last skirmish seemed to be less than a mile from where Jared and the group were holed up for the night. Jared wasn’t overly worried about their immediate safety, but concern nagged at him about their safety after the sun peeled back the cloak of night. He also fretted about what he might be walking into when he kicked off his still yet to be planned rescue mission. If some angry locals were giving the base a problem, Jared was sure it would make his job more difficult. Jared was no military man, but he felt reasonably sure if the base were attacked, it would serve to heighten the base’s security.
Carnegie was riding shotgun in the third Humvee when his radio belched forth the panic-stricken screams from the Humvee Rip bounced the M203 off of. The first bevy of screams were unintelligible, causing the veins in Carnegie’s neck to bulge at the unprofessionalism of his soldiers. When the first transmission ceased, Carnegie grabbed his own mic and was about to key it when the second wave of hysterical howls blasted from his radio. When this second barrage ended, Carnegie keyed his mic.
“Calm the fuck down, soldiers,” he barked into the mic. “Calm down, and give me your location and a sitrep.” A sitrep, simply put, was a situational report, and Carnegie knew the one he’d just asked for would not be a good one.
Carnegie wanted to know first where the unit was who were acting like first-grade kids on their first field trip, and secondly, he wanted to know what had caused all the excitement. The second being of far less importance, since Carnegie would have bet a week’s rations he knew the cause. His undertrained, green, combat-lacking soldiers had run headlong into the buzz saw that was a SEAL team on the run, and from the sounds of it they hadn’t fared all that well.
A slightly less frenzied voice came back on the air. “Base actual, we’ve been ambushed, man down, and we are heading to medical.”
Well, thought Carnegie, at least they’re using call signs now. “Negative, negative, return to your post. Is your man KIA or WIA?” Carnegie barked into his mic.
“KIA, sir,” came the even more subdued voice.
“Dump ’im and get your ass back in the fight, soldier,” Carnegie ordered. “Who the fuck was that?” Carnegie yelled at his driver.
“I think it was Sierra 9,” the driver answered hesitantly.
Carnegie referred briefly to his map, then began issuing orders to his driver, directing her to drive to Sierra 9’s location.
“Keep your fucking head on a swivel up there,” Carnegie hollered at the soldier in his turret.
Carnegie tried to read the map under the dim red light of his lensed flashlight as his driver careened around corners and gassed the straightaways. When they reached Sierra 9, Carnegie was furious to find the soldiers hunkered down inside the vehicle and not even parked atop the bridge, which afforded the best view of the area. As Carnegie’s vehicle slid to a stop, three soldiers poured out of Sierra 9’s vehicle. Every one of them was covered in blood.
The first to reach Carnegie appeared on the verge of tears as he spoke. “They cut Simpson in half, sir. We left him back up the road.”
“Tell me exactly what happened,” Carnegie snarled.
“We were sitting on post, and Simpson saw someone in the river, coming this way like they’d come from the base, so he lit ’em up. Then they shot the Humvee up, and Simpson ducked back inside. He was popping up, taking a few shots and then taking cover, when they hit us with a grenade or something, and Simpson fell back inside—at least what was left of him,” the man finished, his face a mask of fear and panic.
“Get that vehicle back up on this bridge, and man that gun, soldier. If you abandon your post again, I will personally shoot all three of you. Is that understood?”
All three soldiers scrambled back to their vehicle and arranged it in the center of the bridge where Simpson had just been killed. Not one of the soldiers wanted to be sitting up on the bridge after what had happened, but all three were more frightened of Colonel Carnegie than the SEALs at the moment, but that could change quickly. Carnegie glared at the Humvee full of fools while he radioed, vectoring the other Humvee into position on Highway 5. The river would eventually cross under the interstate, and if Carnegie were a betting man, the SEALs would remain close to the water. It was a strength of theirs, but tonight Carnegie hoped he could use the SEALs’ love of the water against them.
When Carnegie was finished briefing the third Humvee crew, he briefed the crew who’d recently received a mauling by the SEALs. He wanted them to remain on the bridge as a blocking force. When the time came, he would order them onto the dirt road that paralleled the river in a pincer maneuver. If Carnegie played his cards right, he hoped to contact his prodigal SEALs as they tried crossing under Highway 5, and drive them back into the waiting arms of three soldiers who Carnegie hoped would have taken enough time to reflect, get angry, and want revenge.
Carnegie was acutely aware he could not do battle with the SEALs in a head-on, force-on-force-style battle with the sadly lacking troops he had under his command. He would need to outmaneuver the frogmen, giving his soldiers a leg up by way of tactics if there was going to be any hope of bringing these naval bastards to heel.
Chapter 26
As Matt led the men at a slow jog, John felt thankful he’d spent time running through his daily exercise regimen while caged with Luther. After fifteen minutes of legging it along the river’s edge, Matt called a security halt so he could glance over the map. John approached Matt and took a look over the SEAL’s shoulder as Matt and Denver conversed about what they thought about their current route.
John had worked with many SEALs in the past and harbored a great deal of respect for the ones who deserved it. Matt seemed like a very competent leader, but John was bothered by one thing. The SEALs seemed wedded to the river route, which, in John’s opinion, was already compromised. Carnegie had guessed what Matt would do, and now two of his SEALs were floating facedown in the San Joaquin River because of Matt’s failure to out-strategize the colonel. John wasn’t judging Matt for what had happened, and he surely wasn’t blaming the man for Dale’s and Ty’s deaths, but he was absolutely going to give some input if Matt decided to remain close to the water.
As if Matt felt John’s presence, he turned his head to face John. “What do you think, man?”
John was thankful he hadn’t been forced to push his idea on the group, but was instead asked for his professional input. “I think we need to get away from this fucking river for a whi
le,” John said, pointing to a neighborhood on the map. “I say we cut across here and get into this development,” John said, tracing his finger across the map’s surface. “They were waiting on that bridge, and I bet they have guys on most if not all the bridges for the next couple of miles. Carnegie isn’t stupid. He’s an asshole, and I’d like to kill the guy myself, but he’s a dangerous guy on the battlefield.”
Matt feigned studying the map for a moment, as did Denver, while they both mulled over what this outsider was saying. After a few seconds, Matt pointed to their exit point on the map. “We cross this road here, move through the neighborhoods, and link back up with the river on the west side. Looks like it’s a two-to-three-mile hike, but we will have cover and concealment the entire way,” Matt announced.
John liked the plan; it took them away from the dangerous portions of the river that were crisscrossed with roads and bridges, which were places Carnegie could put his Apple Dumpling Gang soldiers into positions to intercept John and this beleaguered and undermanned bunch of warfighters. In the neighborhood, John was more confident they could stave off contact with the three Humvees and all Carnegie’s boys and girls.
Matt stowed the map, and as if on cue, all the warfighters got to their feet and started off at the slow jog they’d used since leaving the base. After ten minutes of doggedly making their way forward, Matt peeled off to the left and stopped at a chain-link fence. Denver went over the fence and assumed a security position as the rest of the men followed. After scaling the fence, Matt pushed forward alongside an industrial complex, careful not to cut through the maze of buildings. The last thing any of them wanted was to be caught out in the open with nowhere to hide. The neighborhood would be different since getting into a residence was considerably easier than breaching a steel-framed industrial fire door.
John, Matt and the rest of the SEALs used the larger landscaping bushes that were mature enough to have survived without their manmade and electronically operated watering systems. Matt’s intention was to move along French Camp Road and pass under Highway 5. Matt prayed silently there would be no overwatch on Carnegie’s part in the area since he and his mates would be out in the open during this portion of their journey, with little to no cover or concealment from hostile forces.
The Jared Chronicles | Book 3 | Chains of Tyranny Page 24