by Frank Perry
still, waiting. Gun smoke filled the corridor, but he could see several men down. Most were moaning, and some struggled to rise.
Stokes was pinned down, but safe, kneeling behind the thick concrete of the roof façade. He keyed his head-mounted communicator, “Peter, come in.”
Peter was set to voice activation, “Go ahead.”
“I got some, but some went back in with weaps, over.”
“Yeah, I got a few, not sure if all. Rachael is heading out the side. Can you get to her? Over.”
“Is your rope still in place? Over.”
“Yes.”
“On my way.”
Stokes put his spare magazines in his leg pockets, then sprinted to Peter’s pack. The side yard below looked quiet, so he rappelled down and moved to the door about fifty feet away. It was dark, and he peered inside, moving swiftly into shadows. She was whimpering nearby. “Rachael? Rachael, it’s John.”
He heard her feet shuffling closer, but she didn’t say anything. Her arms flew tightly around his neck, and he could feel her quivering almost-naked body clinging to him in terror. “Rachael, where’s Peter?”
She released and pointed to the lighted corridor. “There.”
“Look, honey. I’ve got to help Peter.”
She released her grip and followed behind him as he moved toward the light. There was no sound, but there was a strong smell of cordite. “Peter, it’s Stokes. I have Rachael.”
“Hold. I’m coming your way, John.” Stokes remained still.
Peter rounded the corner. “I’ve got them pinned. Let’s get her to the roof for extraction.”
“Roger that.”
Peter took a covering position as John grabbed her upper arm and led Rachael to the courtyard. “We’re clear Peter. I’ll cover.”
Peter ran toward the door, where Stokes knelt outside aiming past him. No one followed.
Peter said, “Get her to the roof, John. You climb, then pull her up.”
“I can’t Peter. Arms aren’t strong enough to climb. I’ll cover.”
Peter looked at him for a moment, then patted his shoulders and ran with Rachael to the rope.
“Rachael. I’ll go up first then send down a harness to pull you up.”
She jerked her head up and down but still didn’t speak.
It took him several seconds to scale the wall. He pulled up the rope and tied a double loop at the bottom for her legs, dropping back down. “Step into the harness.”
As he pulled upward, she was able to push with her feet, helping him. She still had remarkable strength as adrenalin flooded her body.
Stokes fired three shots and moved to the edge of the door for more cover.
Rachael came over the wall showing good agility, and Peter quickly dropped the rope again. “John, come up now.”
“Hold one.” He fired several more rounds, then ran to the rope.
Peter handed his M4 to Rachael. “Honey, you cover us.”
She screamed, “Peter! I don’t know how ... ”
He looked at her and said calmly, “Just lean over and point toward the door. If someone looks out — shoot! Don’t worry about hitting ‘em. It’ll keep them inside.”
She moved to his right with a clear view over the edge at the doorway below.
Peter struggled to pull Stokes up. Even with John’s legs helping, the lift was almost twice Rachael’s weight. Still, he was up quickly. Rachael had fired several times.
Peter pulled the Sincgars radio from his pack and keyed the microphone. “Raven, come in.”
“Raven here, over.”
“Raven need extract, last location, expedite, expect fire, over.”
“Roger. Stand by, over.”
“Out.”
They moved to the center of the flat roof taking opposing cover positions. Rachael stayed between them, trembling in the cold desert night. The temperature had nothing to do with her chill. She said nothing.
Long seconds passed before the S-97 appeared overhead. Rushing to open the rear hatch, the soldiers helped Rachael get inside and belted in. The pilot ran around the front of the idling aircraft with ten extra magazines. Peter said, “Thanks, ace, get them out of here. I’ve still got some work to do.”
Stokes yelled. “Hell no, you don’t! Not alone!”
Rachael screamed. “Peter!” -- As the hatch was locked. The Rangers moved away, and the plane disappeared.
When all was quiet, Stokes said, “Man. You’re pressing your luck — our luck.”
“Buddy, I appreciate your help, but you don’t need to do this.”
“Hey, I’m the guy with the bad shoulders, and someone needs to pay.”
Peter patted him on the knee, “Good man, let’s go.”
Safe
The pilot reached behind his seat, waving a headset, which she took. “Ms. Aston, there’s an extra flight suit under the seat by you.”
She was still dazed and hardly aware that she was in her underwear. “Oh. Oh, thanks.”
“No problem, Ma’am.” He was smiling to himself, having enjoyed the view, when she climbed aboard. He was unaware of the ordeal she’d endured.
It was dark in the plane, but after releasing the seatbelt she was able to find the suit and struggle into it. She was still shaking, thinking of the smelly monster that Peter killed, clawing at her. She was glad they all died. In the ambush in Mexico City, Steve had begged, and they had shot him for no reason. She was glad when Cardenas’ men were killed. She wanted them all dead.
It only took a few minutes to cross the border and arrive at Ft. Bliss. The pilot spoke into the headset, “Ma’am, we’re going to land now. Colonel Colson will meet you and take charge. I’m staying with the plane to get our boys back out.”
Peter! He and John were still with those madmen. God, why did they stay? Peter, I need you now!
Marian Colson opened the hatch and helped Rachael step out of the airplane. She seemed less like a Colonel and more like a woman than any other time. “Let me help you, dear. Let’s get you patched up and pretty.”
Rachael felt weak. “Thanks.”
Worried
Cardenas hid in an upstairs office without lights, not knowing where his men were, or if the danger was over. He dialed his cellphone. “Mr. Vitale!”
“Who’s this?”
“Hector Cardenas!”
“What do you want?”
“Do you have my money?”
“No, there is no money.”
“Well, we had some visitors tonight. Were they your men?”
“Not really, just some other good Americans.”
“Yes, it’s the American way. Now you see, they have taken my prize, and I am going to find them all and kill them. They killed some of my men.”
“Good. Less shit to send down the sewer.”
“Now, Mr. Vitale, there is no need to be coarse. I want to bargain with you.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, you see. I don’t know how many you sent, or where they are right now. This worries me. So, you call off your dogs, and I’ll assure that none are killed.”
“Well. I’ll see what I can do.” Vitale didn’t plan to do anything.
On the roof, Peter and John discussed options. Stokes was pumped. “Let’s go get him, Peter.”
“No. He’s expecting us. I’m sure he has an Army coming. We need a different plan.”
Airborne
Sometime later, Cardenas had dozens of men search the prison from roof to cellar before feeling it was safe to move. twelve men were dead and a dozen more wounded by the Americans, and he had lost Rachael Aston. The Americans would pay ten times over! When he learned that Padilla was also dead, he knew it was time to move farther south, away from the border. He ordered an escort to the airport.
Several men surrounded him as they ran to his limousine. Two guards got into the car with him and he ordered the remaining guards to follow them i
n their own cars to the airport, about twenty minutes away. Once at his hangar, the pilot was waiting for him. He had inspected the plane and had it fueled. Cardenas ordered an immediate takeoff.
He didn’t feel completely safe until his plane was airborne. The night sky was bright with stars as they rose above the low cloud cover. His temples throbbed and he told one of his body guards to mix a pain reliever with his scotch. The affect was almost immediate, as he reclined in the soft goatskin-covered luxury seat. His eyes closed, and he was soon dreaming. The vision of Rachael Aston, submissive, pleading under his control, nearly naked, caused him to smile. It was not the vision he had expected to film, but she was still fun to watch. Oh, well, there would be more.
There was turbulence while the plane was climbing, but it was peaceful at cruising altitude, as the plane headed due south, toward Mexico City. He always enjoyed the Mexican vastness, which was his in many tangible ways. He felt a sense of tranquility. He relaxed for the first time in hours and felt his eyelids grow heavy.
Suddenly, there was a loud interior noise as the luggage compartment door slammed open. Shields and Stokes jumped out, with M4s leveled at the two body guards who first looked at Cardenas, unsure what to do. He screamed something, and the guards hesitated momentarily before reaching inside their jackets. The American gunfire inside the narrow cabin was deafening, as the two lifeless guard bodies slumped in their seats.
The pilot yelled something from the cockpit, and the plane dropped momentarily, before he regained control. Cardenas’ face was distorted by fear as he raised his hands in submission.
“Hello, Hector.” Peter moved toward the man paralyzed by rage, as Stokes checked the body guards. Both were dead by several shots in the chest; their eyes remained fixed.
Cardenas screamed,