Chapter 10

Getting out of the truck to assess the situation, Sam drew his side arm and with caution stepped around the open door toward the front of the vehicle. The wild boar squealed and grunted, and he expected to see it mashed into the bumper or lying on the ground thrashing in pain. To his surprise, it stood on all four hooves. It shook itself as if removing the road dirt and began to approach him. Sam backed up a step, then two. The boar continued to move in his direction. He shot at it, warning it to stay back, but the animal must not have understood that signal. It sped up. Sam turned and ran for the open door, jumped into the cab, and slammed the door.

At the same time, he heard rustling in the jungle. He dropped his side arm on the seat and picked up the rifle he grabbed before leaving the Humvee. He cocked it as a group of boars came rushing out of the underbrush and ran across his path. Their bodies low to the ground, all he saw was a mass of darkness as they tore past him. The crash victim blended in, and soon they were across the road and into the jungle, running down the side of the mountain as if it was an everyday occurrence. Maybe for them, but Sam had never seen anything like it before. He gaped into the darkness before getting out again to check to be sure that the boar was indeed gone. Other than a herd of prints in the dirt, he never would have known the critters had been there.

"This has been one hell of a mission," Sam muttered. He glanced up at the sky full of stars. "Just do me a favor and get me back to the village, will ya? And after that, I want a nice, comfortable bed." He sighed. "I'm beat."

Over the low rhythmic rumble of the truck engine, he heard something crack in the jungle. His head swiveled toward the sound as he returned to the driver's seat and settled in. He wasn't about to stay around and find out what other creatures were out in the night. He was almost safe and sound, and he was determined that nothing would stop him from getting to the village.

Thankfully the rest of his trip was uneventful and he pulled into the village in time to see most of the citizens still sat around their campfires, finishing their meals and preparing to put sleepy children to bed. All their heads shot up to take note of the dark pickup, and many held fear in their eyes. Hewitt and Seaver got up from Lucy's fire and approached with rifles ready.

"Hey, it's me," Sam exclaimed as he parked the truck and turned off the ignition. He put his hands up until his men lowered their guns, and he lowered his hands.

"Sir! We thought you were going to have to spend the night up on that mountain all by yourself. We wanted to go after you, but we were ordered to stay put."

"Who ordered you?" A prickle of outrage tingled down his spine. Someone usurped his authority, and he didn't like it.

"Commander Franklin, Sir." Hewitt answered with an apologetic tone. "He's not here, but he called on the sat phone. He said we were supposed to stay here and let the carrier crew find you in the morning."

"Nice. Well, I did all the work for them. I'm here."

"Are you okay, Sir? Maybe we should radio the carrier to send over a medic..."

"No, don't worry, I'm fine." Sam held up a hand to stop him. "What I would like is some water."

"There's plenty of that around here," Seaver said with a grin. "Come on, Sir. Come over by the fire."

The welcome Sam received was not what he expected. Lucy saw him and her face broke out in a wide grin as she popped up from her seat and hugged him. "You're back! Are you okay? You're clothes are all dirty, and bloody. What happened to you?"

"I'm fine, Lucy." Sam extracted himself from her arms and took a seat on a log next to the one where she sat beside a darker skinned man who eyed Sam with suspicion.

"Are you hungry," Lucy asked.

"Not really. I haven't had anything to drink pretty much all day, and..."

"Say no more." Lucy spoke a rapid fire of Spanish words, and one of the villager's sons brought him a pitcher and a cup. He handed Sam the cup and filled it.

"Gracias," Sam said and took a sip. He fought the desire to gulp it down in one motion, but he knew his system couldn't handle that. The kid left the pitcher next to his feet and returned to his family sitting on the other side of the fire. Sam lifted the cup toward them and said, "Bueno."

"Sam, this is my husband, Manuel. He came home today to all this chaos. He wanted to go up the mountain to look for you and Michael after he heard what you were doing, but the soldiers wouldn't let them go."

"Manuel," Sam addressed him. "Gracias."

"You're welcome," Manuel replied with a deep accent, still eyeing Sam but warming up to him as they spoke. "My wife told me how you came to get rid of the cartel. We have never had the means to do it ourselves. They have instilled fear in our village for years, coming down with their big black trucks and lots of guns, threatening to take away our younger women..." He shook his head. "We were powerless to stop them if they wanted to."

"When Hewitt and Seaver brought the kids from the compound, there were two young women with them who said they were their teachers," Lucy told Sam. "When they told us what was going on up there, we realized that they were taken from San Salvador, kidnapped, and made to be more than teachers for the children." She shivered and hugged herself with her arms, and Manuel slipped an arm around her. "Those men were despicable, Sam. I don't think anyone really understood how evil they were."

"Were. Have they all been rounded up? I know I saw three bodies where the trucks were abandoned." He took another cup of water. Its coolness soothed his parched throat.

"We took 'em out, Sir. With a little help from Meyer and Carson." Seaver spoke from Sam's right, and Sam turned his attention to the Lieutenant. "Just about the time they met up with us at the tree, two pickups came up the road with a dozen of the cartel members." He paused as a smile broke across his face. "Those guys never had a chance. They came up on our Humvee and we hunkered down, hidden in the tree branches and leaves. They got close and pulled their weapons, but we were faster." As he told the story, Seaver's face glowed. "Three of them went down just like that, and the others ran for the trucks. They used 'em for cover, and we had a good firefight against 'em, but Hewie and I got behind a rock and we were able to nail them all."

"There were at least a dozen guys. Where'd the rest of the bodies go," Sam asked.

"They were injured, not killed. A helo came and took them away to the carrier for medical attention. No doubt they'll soon be on their way to a holding facility somewhere." Seaver smiled. "The important thing is we completed the mission, Sir."

"You did, and I'm looking forward to reading the long version when we get back to base."

"Yes, Sir. We'll get that to you the moment we return to civilization," Seaver said with a casual salute followed by a yawn he covered with his hand.

"Go on, get to bed. I won't be long behind you." A wave of exhaustion rolled over him, but he still needed hydration more than sleep.

After his men left the campfire and the other family took their kids to their hut, Sam sat alone with Lucy, Manuel, and Benito, who slept in his father's arms. "You know you don't have to stay up on my account," Sam said to them.

"It's okay. I'm still trying to process the fact that you made it back safe," Lucy said.

Sam tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow. "I thought you were the one who told me that we would come back alive and that everything would be okay?"

"I did, and I believed it was true. You did come back. No one in your team died." She bowed her head and admitted, "Sometimes even I doubt, Sam."

"Fair enough." Sam shrugged and stared at the fire. "I don't know about Mike yet. He was airlifted to the carrier, and he was in pretty bad shape the last time I saw him.."

"Perhaps tomorrow you can call the ship to find out how he is," Manuel suggested.

"Yeah." Sam nodded, and he looked at the couple. "Manuel, I'm not sure we would have had as good an outcome as we did if it hadn't been for your wife and her faith."

"What do you mean," Manuel asked.

"I have to admit I wasn't much of a believer, but every step of the way it seemed like something was on our side, something that nobody could control. We should have died up there. We were outmanned and when things went south, we should have seen more serious casualties." Sam took a sip of his water. "Only one thing can explain it in my mind."

Lucy smiled, the expression radiating as much warmth as the fire. "You were protected. Just as I said you would be."

"I'm grateful. I know my men are." Sam's head felt as if it weighed a ton. "I really should get to bed. I'm wiped out."

"Forgive us! We shouldn't keep you up," Manuel said. He handed Benito to Lucy and said, "Come with me. We set up an unoccupied hut for you and your men. Hopefully you will find it comfortable."

"Unoccupied?" Sam approached it with Manuel and studied it. "This place is new. It wasn't here two days ago!"

"No," Manuel replied with a smile. "We were hoping to keep you here for awhile to help protect us from the cartel, so the people built this place for you."

"Wow." Sam was speechless after that, following Manuel inside to find a room where his men were already asleep. The two moved past them and Manuel presented Sam with a room of his own.

"This is for you. Good night, Lieutenant Commander Axe. Sleep well." Manuel backed out of the room and Sam was alone.

The bed looked inviting, a platform covered with a thick mattress and bedding. The quilt was light and he would probably kick it off later, but for the moment Sam didn't care. He washed up at a basin on a stand and undressed, tossing his soiled clothes onto a chair, and he changed into shorts and a t-shirt for sleeping. He blew out the oil lamp and crawled into bed, and not long after his head lay on the pillow, he was asleep.

Only his dreams could interfere with a sound sleep. The roaring of engines and rattling of rapid gunfire, people screaming in Spanish, pounding on the door frame to wake him up... Sam raised his head and noted that dawn was breaking. A slight whiff of air moved past the back of his neck and he realized that this was no dream. Someone was shooting and the bullets pierced the hut, coming within a hairsbreadth of his head. Sam rolled off the bed and stayed on the floor as he reached up to snag a pair of clean pants and a shirt from the wardrobe in the corner.

"Lieutenant Commander," Seaver cried out. "What's going on?"

"I don't know. Get dressed and grab your guns and ammo. We're going out there to protect these people!" Sam didn't bother to put on the shirt. Instead, he left it on the bed and reached for his vest, securing it and following his own orders. On the way out of the hut he picked up the sat phone and dialed.

"Franklin."

"Glad I caught you at home, Sir. The village is under attack, and it's just two of my guys and me. We need reinforcements from the carrier, now!" He held the phone in the crook of his neck while he loaded his rifle near the door. A dark figure ran past carrying an automatic rifle, spraying the hut with gunfire. Sam fired and missed on the first shot, but the second dropped him like a sack of lead.

"Axe, what's going on?"

"We're under attack in the village, Sir!"

"Support will be there soon!" Franklin hung up, but not before the phone fell to the floor and Sam took out another invader.

Sam forgot about the phone or whatever Franklin promised. He had reality right in front of him, at least a half dozen guys with automatic weapons shooting at the villagers and trying to drag the kids away. They didn't seem to care which ones were the orphans and which were the villagers' offspring. Sam saw Benito carried under a raider's arms, screaming for his mother. Sam didn't dare shoot and risk hitting the boy. Instead, he took off after him, taking advantage of the fact that the man was focused on delivering the child to a truck waiting on the road.

"Benito! Beni!" Lucy screamed his name. "Sam, help him!"

Sam didn't reply. The man tossed Benito up to another waiting in the truck, and with surprise on his side, Sam threw momentum into the butt of his rifle and smashed it into the side of the bandit's skull. He went down hard. The one in the truck trained his gun on Sam, but Sam fired first. He fell out of the truck. Sam ran around to the driver's side but no one was in the vehicle. Only the kids were in back, and from the looks of things, most of them had already been rounded up. He returned to the back of the truck and found the two teachers standing before him crying and jabbering in Spanish.

He saw Manuel out of the corner of his eye. The bereaved father was searching for his son. "Manuel! Manuel!" He motioned for him to come over, and Manuel ran through the chaos to Sam's side.

"Benito's on the truck," Sam said in assurance. "I want you to take these kids, and these ladies, and anybody else you can round up, get them on the truck, and drive out of here. Head to San Salvador."

"Yes, I can do that." Manuel helped the women climb onto the truck. Their presence helped to calm the children.

Sam ran back to the heat of the battle. The few attackers who were left mowed down villagers as if they were mere paper targets. Sam fired on them, taking out another two. He heard the breath of someone rushing at him from behind, and he turned as another raider ran into him. He and Sam hit the ground, Sam getting the brunt of the shock. He saw stars for a moment, and then the man pressed the barrel of his rifle across Sam's neck trying to strangle him. Bringing up his knee, Sam caught him in a vulnerable spot and the pressure loosened. He rolled him off, threw a couple good punches, and the attacker was unconscious. For good measure, he rolled the guy over and bound his hands with a zip tie he kept in his pocket.

The shooting had stopped, and Sam heard the whir of chopper blades. In the growing light of day two of them hovered over the village. Sam stood and waved to the pilot of one, just as Hewitt came running with the radio in his hand.

"Sir, Commander Coleman wants to speak with you."

"Coleman?"

"He's one of the leaders of this mission, Sir." Hewitt handed him the radio and stepped back.

"Go check on the wounded, Hewitt."

"Yes, Sir!" Hewitt ran toward the huts where some of the adults lay on the ground.

Smoke from expended ammunition and flash grenades obscured the landscape, but Sam could see many of the villagers were injured by the raiders. His eyes stung. He blinked and spoke into the radio. "Lieutenant Commander Sam Axe, Sir."

"Axe, this is Commander Coleman. What the hell happened down there?"

"I don't know, Sir. A surprise raid at dawn, possibly executed by some of the cartel we didn't know about. All I know is that we've got a lot of wounded down here, Sir."

"We'll send a medical team to take care of everyone. And we'll be sending troops to take the prisoners."

"Thank you, Sir. It's nice to have some backup, finally."

Until order returned to the village, Sam stayed on the ground and assisted wherever someone needed help. Sailors arrived and took the truck of children to a safe place in San Salvador, but not before the parents who were uninjured were gathered up and taken along. Sam hadn't had the luxury of a cup of coffee let alone water to continue to recover from the day before. He was too busy preparing victims for transport to the local hospital. The cartel members who survived were taken to a secure prison where their wounds would be taken care of and they would no longer be a threat to anyone. Hewitt and Seaver came out of the ordeal unscathed, and so did Sam.

"Sir, I have orders to take you and your men to the carrier, where you'll be checked out," a Lieutenant from one of the transports that converged on the village said to Sam.

"Alright. Let's go get checked out, guys." He pulled himself up into the back of the troop transport vehicle and sat on the bench toward the opening. From his vantage point he witnessed the destruction and the patches of blood that polluted the dirt paths and doorsteps to the huts. He shook his head and asked without words for the villagers to return to their homes, that no one would have lost their lives during the fight.

It wasn't a battle. It was a one-sided blood bath. Sam wondered if they would ever know why the small group decided to take on the village. The cartel must have wanted those kids to do their dirty work so bad, they were willing to slaughter a whole village to get them back. Sam shook his head and dropped it into his hands, unable to understand the depravity of some men.

Sam swore that he'd closed his eyes for only a few moments, the exhaustion taking its toll. He woke up to find himself prone and the sheet underneath him crackled with its starchiness resisting his movements. He looked up at the ceiling and instantly recognized that he was on the carrier, and he turned his head to get a better view of exactly where he was. An IV hung near his head. His eyes followed the line straight to his arm. Oh great, what happened to me? He continued to study the sick bay and discovered that he was in a ward with only a couple other men. At the far end, he saw Michael.

"Mike," Sam muttered and sat up, instantly regretting that move when he felt light headed.

"Lieutenant Commander, you lay back down," a pretty, dark haired nurse scolded him as she rushed to his side and pushed on his chest. "You're not going anywhere until we take care of your electrolyte imbalance."

"Is that what this is for," Sam asked as he lifted his arm.

"Yes. So just lay back there and relax, get some rest." She patted his shoulder and smiled. "You deserve it."

"How's Mike?" He pointed to his friend.

"Mr. Westen is doing as well as can be expected. His leg has been set, but he has a serious infection that he's fighting. As soon as he's stable enough, they'll be flying him back to Washington for some major recovery time."

"But he's gonna make it," Sam pressed.

The nurse smiled. "It appears so. He's a very lucky man, Lieutenant Commander."

"Luck had nothing to do with it," Sam muttered as he closed his eyes and let the fatigue and whatever cocktail of drugs they gave him drag him under for a nice long rest. "Don't let them take him away before I have a chance to talk to him." One eye opened and zeroed in on her. "Got it?"

"Yes, Sir." Her smile widened. "If you rest, you have my word."

Sam nodded. "You've got a deal."

Another day, another mission. Sam got out of the SUV and surveyed the colorful marketplace in the square. He was here to meet Michael, and from the time he left the States until the moment he arrived, he worried that his friend wouldn't be there. Contrary to his instructions, the nurse let him sleep when Michael was transported to Washington and it had been months since he heard anything, and then all of a sudden these orders came down.

"Place hasn't changed at all," Hewitt remarked as he dropped his gear beside Sam's feet and eyed the pretty women passing them.

"We'll have time for that later, Romeo," Carson teased. "Sir, he's over there. Westen."

Carson tilted his head toward a booth in the market, and Sam's eyes roved to the place where he saw Michael looking over some jewelry. As if he could sense someone watching, he turned, saw Sam and his team standing at the curb looking like a bunch of tourists, and he smiled. They waited for him to cross the street and approached them.

"It's good to see everyone made it through the last operation we shared," Michael said with a smile.

"We're a tough bunch, Mikey. It's good to see you walking around looking well. I wasn't so sure for awhile there." The men embraced briefly, then pulled back to examine each other from head to toe. "I almost can't believe it's really you."

"I had it pretty rough there for awhile," Michael told Sam. "Come on, let's go get checked in and I'll buy you guys a beer. It's been six months of recovery, and I'm ready to get back to work."

"Strategy sessions with beer. I like that," Sam said with a smile. "Let's get to it."

The men picked up their luggage and headed for the hotel. Sam watched Michael walking beside him and a little ahead, and he was pleased to see that there was no sign that his friend's leg had been broken. If anything, he walked with greater power than ever. He knew a little bit of the reason they were back in El Salvador, but Mike held the key. Sam couldn't wait to hear what they would be doing, and working together was the icing on the cake. Maybe some day, when Sam was retired from the Navy and Michael got tired of the CIA, they could work together on something. God knew they were a great team. Why else would they still be breathing and scraping through one thing after another?

"Sam," Michael spoke and turned to face him. "Have you heard anything about what happened to Lucy and the people in her village?"

"After I was released by the docs, I had some leave saved up. I came back here, and I went to the village. It was a mess, Mike," Sam told him, his brow furrowed as he remembered what he'd seen. "There were a lot of injuries, but miraculously, nobody died. They just needed a lot of help rebuilding what had been destroyed."

"So they put you to work, huh?" Michael grinned.

"Yeah. It was good work, though. After all they did to help us, it was the least I could do." He smirked. "Reynoldo was pretty upset about his truck, but I took care of that, too."

Michael suggested with a smile, "Maybe if we have time after our mission we can drop in for a visit."

"That would be great. But we've gotta finish the mission first."

"We will." Michael nodded, confident that they would again be successful in the jungles of El Salvador.

"Alright," Meyer said as they entered the hotel. "Let's drop this stuff off and get down to business."

"That's right," Carson quipped. "We left some senoritas at the bar last time we were here."

Get down to business. Michael and Sam glanced at each other and smiled. The other team members' ideas were different than what the friends had in mind, but for tonight, it sounded good to both of them.