I greatly appreciate the reviews already, good to see my fans are still around, lol. This will probably be the only update for a few weeks, after which the uploads should be more frequent. This should be much longer than the first chapter. That was only the intro.
Location, location, location...
MH-6 wreck site, an hour later
The man stood in front of his Toyota pickup, a PKM propped up against the rollbar in the tray. Other pickups were spread out, securing the wreck. The men were dismounted and had fanned out, searching the wreck for any signs of movement or activity. The patrol was responsible for downing the aircraft, and was now claiming the remains.
"Sir, I think I found something here. Come and see it." One of the younger men called out to him, his AKM pointing towards the discovery. Sure enough, they were tracks. Tracks of a man. The patrol leader looked back towards the wreck, then to the start of the tracks, then back to the wreck. He noticed the dents in the sand where things had been, noticed that the wreck had been searched, and saw blood trails along the track in intervals.
"There's a survivor. He's wounded. Everyone mount up. We need to track him down and capture him. A live soldier is better than a dead one. Kareem, you and your team stay here. They might come for the wreck as well." He climbed into the passenger seat of the pickup, as men piled into the tray and prepared to move out. The sooner they find the survivor, the sooner they have a bargaining chip with the NATO forces deployed. With a large cloud of dust, the convoy of pickups and jeeps left to search for the survivor.
NATO Base Winchester
The alarm sounded in the Tactical Operations Centre, or TOC, of the deployed USAF Pararescue squadron. Airmen scrambled from small rooms towards the flight line, where PJs geared up and readied their weapons, crewmen armed the door guns and pilots started the engines of their MH-60K Pavehawks. The radios of the PJs and pilots cracked to life as the watch commander relayed details.
"Pedro 4-1, TOC. No patient as yet, mission is SAR. Aircraft was an MH-6J Littlebird, last contact was one hour and fifteen mikes ago. Location details to follow." The commander fed the location details, as the PJs ran final checks and the team leaders took down details. "We're looking for three allied mil, two pilots and one operator. Good luck out there." The Pavehawks taxied to the take off point and set off towards the crash site.
141 Outpost Hilton
"So, now we wait and sit on our asses?" Roach was visibly upset at the situation. Not only had his friend gone MIA whilst returning to base from a mission, but the task force called in help from the USAF. "How good are these PJs anyway?"
"Some of the best Roach. Not only are they equal to the likes of Delta and the SAS, but they are also trained paramedics. I'd trust my life with them any day." Meat stepped in to re-assure Roach. "They'll find him in no time, and bring him home." Roach broke away and headed to his quarters. The poor man was helpless. He could not to anything but sit and wait. Wait until news came that Shade had been found, or had been killed in the crash, or killed by militia, or was captured by militia. The endless scenarios ran through Roach's head for what seemed like hours.
"Roach, open the door! Don't make me break it down!" Roach got up, waited until he could hear the person step back, and opened it as Rook flew in, expecting the door to still be there. Rook landed on the metal floor with a loud thud, and Roach chucked a bit. "Not cool Roach. Look, I heard about Shade. And I know we're sending the PJs out. But something doesn't sit right." Rook was also upset. He and Shade were close, being some of the few Australian soldiers in the 141.
"So, what are you suggesting?" Roach asked, showing curiosity as to what Rook was thinking.
"We gather a small patrol, head to the wreck and try to find Shade ourselves. If I know Shade, he'd have fallen back to his basic survival training."
"And what did they teach you down there?"
"Adapt, overcome and survive. He'd have left the wreck by now with the crew and moved south towards allied lines. When the PJs get there, they aren't going to find them. If we want to find them though, we need to get moving now."
"Agreed." The two men left the room, stopping by to collect more men for the search party. By the time they reached Soap and Ghost, they had gathered Royce, Archer, Scarecrow, Neon and Hex. Roach stood behind Soap, and waited for him to acknowledge him.
"What is it Roach?" Soap turned, and saw the group of men, all dressed in combat gear and ready to fight. "Let me guess, you all want to go find Shade? Well, I'm sorry to break it to you men but I can't allow it." The men started to protest, but Soap silenced them. "There are reasons to why we can't. Firstly, the PJs are already on the way. They are the best people for the job. Secondly, if you are all out and we're needed for a mission, we won't be able to take it on. We'll all get in trouble. Thirdly, you'll be against the militia and civilian population, who aren't too friendly with us. Chances are, you'll suffer more casualties before you find him."
In the Middle Eastern wilderness
Shade had been moving for a good hour now. The pain from his legs had subsided, allowing him to move faster. It would do more damage in the long run, but for the time being it was worth the risk. He moved in bounds, stopping for a second or two after each hundred meters. By estimates, he had covered at least a kilometre by now, and was out of immediate danger.
But with his injuries, he'd be lucky to get further than five before succumbing to pain and fatigue or being captured by the group that shot him down. The moments leading up to the crash came back to him over the course of his evasion.
The mission had gone well. A single man deep recon at a known militia headquarters. They had acquired multiple anti-aircraft weapons, rendering drones and direct assaults useless. He had to walk a good ten kilometres to and from the drop point to get to the target. It was only a few minutes after being picked up when they had been shot at by a Strela. They evaded it, only to run into the path of a second one. The aircraft lost the tail rotor and engine, auto rotating to the ground. They landed too hard, and the impact flung Shade off the bench seating and into the sand. The aircraft then flipped and rolled a few times, killing the crew. It came to a rest on its side, leaving Shade unconscious.
It had been rough, but considering that he only broke a leg and had moderate scratches on his body, he was lucky. Shade stopped, taking a small drink from a canteen he recovered. He had about a quarter of a canteen of water left, and a day's worth of food remaining. He only had a sidearm with four magazines left, a knife, a compass, and the clothes on his person. Shade had ditched his plate carrier after finding that the crash had broken the plates, rendering them useless. It was extra weight to carry regardless, and the lighter the better.
He heard an engine resonating towards his rear, and moved to cover in a small cluster of bushes. Sure enough, a white pickup was driving closer, the tray loaded with men who were armed to the teeth. Shade stayed as still as he could, but despite his efforts, the pickup slowed down and turned towards the bush. It pulled up just short of the bush, the driver dismounting with his rifle slung behind him. Shade didn't dare look up as the driver stopped just short of him, close enough that Shade could read the small manufacturing tag on the tongue of the shoe.
The sound of a zipper broke the silence, and a small stream fell from the driver, landing just to the side of Shade's face. The man needed to stop and relieve himself, and thought the bush would be the perfect place. Animal instincts still show in humans, apparently. A few seconds later, the stream stopped, the zipper was closed, and the man set off back to the pickup. The pickup sped away, and Shade looked up towards the sky.
"Thanks."
Keep up the reading, I read all reviews. Sometimes just minutes after they are posted.