Marshall and Gahn Shen, the Medical NCO, stood by the door of the Black
Hawk, cables at the ready. As the helicopter dipped and then hovered some
fifty feet above the ground, the doors were opened and cables tossed to the
ground.
"Hold her steady," Quincey called to Coleman.
"Move out!" came the order from Captain Keane.
Takoda Russell was the first out the door and down the cable, followed by Rollins, Faris and Lukin. Ian and Mobius followed suit, sliding down the cable rapidly and landing gracefully beside their brothers-at-arms. Ramirez, Preston and Captain Keane came down, quickly followed by Marshall and Shen. The local force came down more slowly than the Black Dragons had, but determined not to be outdone slid down without showing a trace of fear. Captain Keane, seeing everyone was accounted for, gave a hearty tug on the cable and then waved up to Quincey who was reeling the cable back in. The Captain split the units into teams of three or four men each, making sure to put at least one of his men on each team.
Ian, Mobius and Preston were teamed with only one of the locals, a man named Zaid. After some last minute instruction from their Captain, they began their mile long run through the night. Zaid kept up with them admirably.
As the compound came into view the team took shelter behind some scraggly brush. Using night vision goggles, Ian surveyed the area. "No patrol visible. The wall appears to be scaleable to the southwest corner. The only other available entrance appears to be the front gates," he whispered.
Mobius nodded from his kneeling position, then whispered, "Can you see any of the other teams?"
Ian replied quietly, "Looks like Faris and Ramirez' team are about 200 yards to our east. No others in sight yet. Preston? Do you have communication with the Captain yet?"
Preston nodded. "Yeah, I just got 2 beeps. Time to move," he related in hushed tones. In the distance the cry of a night bird was audible, a signal between teams. Preston repeated the cry, indicating they were in position.
The team ran at a low crouch to the southwest corner of the wall that Ian had proclaimed scaleable. Mobius gave Ian a place to step by lacing his hands together, then Ian, using Mobius' hands much like a springboard, ran and leapt up, grasping the top of the wall in his gloved hands. He pulled himself up to a squatting position atop the wall and lowered a nylon rope, belaying for the rest of the team.
They dropped silently into the courtyard below, using hand signals to communicate, and moved stealthily towards the main building. As they reached the lighted archway, they encountered the first of the mercenaries. Ian was the first to reach him, and with a seemingly superhuman burst of speed and strength, he snapped the man's neck before there was ever an opportunity for him alert others to the invasion. Letting the man's body drop to the ground, he turned and gave Mobius the hand sign for "first blood."
Zaid watched in amazement at the proficiency of these Black Dragons. He had been told of their prowess, but thought it all propaganda with little basis in truth. Now he knew differently. He dutifully followed Ian, Mobius and Preston through the arch and into the building.
The sound of gunfire pierced the quietude from the far side of the complex. Ian and Mobius exchanged glances and then gave each other a few hand signals. Preston made a few gestures as well. Ian nodded to the team and they made their way down the corridor quickly. Ian listened at a door for a moment and then slowly turned the knob. He eased the door open and, stooping low, peered into the room. Seeing it was uninhabited he entered and motioned for the others to follow him. From the sketches of the compounds interior they had been shown, Ian was fairly certain they were on the right track to finding the area where Cynthia Roberts was most likely to be.
A lighted stairwell provided illumination in the room, the soft yellow glow cast into the room causing the dark wood furniture to gleam. The fragrance of incense wafted down from the stairs, indicating the upstairs was populated. Ian gave the signal to move on three, then ticked off three seconds on his gloved fingers. Just as the group started for the stairwell the door burst open and the room was filled with automatic gunfire. Preston, who had been bringing up the rear went down immediately. Ian, one step ahead of Preston, swung around and brought his M-203 up discharging a 40mm grenade at the mercenaries. The report was deafening and when the smoke and debris settled, he could see the doorway was littered with bodies of the mercenaries. Even though his hearing was diminished, he could plainly hear footsteps retreating rapidly down the corridor.
"Shit! Preston was hit!" Mobius was kneeling beside his fallen comrade.
Ian's eyes expressed his concern clearly as they darted between Preston and the doorway, "Is he alive?"
Mobius nodded, "Barely, but yeah."
Zaid finally spoke up, "Leave him, we've got to get out of here now."
Ian rounded on Zaid, the fury in his face causing the smaller man eyes to widen and to take a step backward. "We will never leave a Black Dragon for dead, " he growled, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Never," Mobius reiterated as he stood, lifting Preston over his massive shoulder easily, "Let's go."
The group made their way up the stairwell, Ian leading the way. Mobius and Preston were next and Zaid brought up the rear. As they came into the brightly-lit room, Ian faced two very scared women huddled in the corner.
"Cynthia Roberts?" Ian asked.
The thinner of the two veiled women nodded her head vigorously.
"Come on, time to get you out of here."
The second woman looked even more frightened at the thought of being left alone. She started speaking rapidly in an Arabic language.
Zaid replied to the woman in soothing tones and she nodded, seeming somewhat calmer.
Cynthia waved to the other woman, "Thank you, Hayat. Be well." She turned back to Ian, "I'm ready."
The group made their way back down the stairs, Ian in the lead again and Zaid right behind him. As they reached the bottom of the stairwell four mercenaries stood waiting for them, rifles pointed directly at Ian's chest.
Time seemed to slow as Ian raised his hands, holding his M-203 aloft. He heard Zaid's sharp intake of air directly behind him. The mercenaries in front of him had no intention other than killing them, he knew. In one fluid motion, Ian spun and pushed Zaid down with one hand, causing a domino effect on the rest of the group. With his other hand he brought the M-203 level and laid down a spray of bullets, dropping two of the mercenaries. He tossed his weapon to the ground and advanced on the remaining two just as one of them opened fire on him.
Ian grasped for the barrel of the rifle the man was holding and pulled the man off balance by it, sending the bullets sailing harmlessly into the plaster-work near the ceiling. He spun the man around using him as a shield and causing him to drop his rifle while pinioning the man's arm up into the small of his back with one hand. His free hand reached down to his leg and retrieved his knife.
Ian's eyes never left the mercenary standing in front of him as he slit the throat of the man in his arms and proceeded to twist the man's head away from his body with a sickening ripping sound. Blood sprayed every direction. Ian's voice was low and dangerous as he said, "That was for Preston." He dropped the lifeless body and stalked toward the terrified man in front of him.
The mercenary standing in front of Ian Nottingham raised his hands in a defensive gesture, his rifle dropping uselessly to the floor, and stared at the man dressed in black coming towards him. One look at the face of his opponent told him it was over, the controlled rage and fury bottled within this man was about to break loose and he was the unfortunate target. A muttered prayer to Allah left his lips seconds before the heel of Ian's hand connected with his face, sending the bone shards that used to be the bridge of his nose slamming into his brain.
Ian stepped over the body of the mercenary and continued towards the doorway, stepping over the bodies heaped there and peering out into the corridor. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Gahn Shen's team coming his way. "In here!" he called in a loud whisper.
Shen, the Medical NCO of the Black Dragons, entered the room and assessed the carnage. All the dead appeared to be mercenaries. It was then that he noticed Preston, who was slung over Mobius' shoulder. "Oh no . . .is he still breathing?" Alexei Lukin and a member of the local force entered behind Shen.
Shen and Lukin both looked toward Mobius for an answer.
Mobius nodded and with one massive hand swept the contents of a large table off into the floor, putting Preston down in its place.
Shen stepped forward and examined Preston, noting the large amount of blood matting the man's black clothing to his neck and upper chest. He frowned as he listened to the man's breathing which was producing a gurgling sound.
Ian retrieved his M-203 and then stood by the door, frequently looking both directions down the corridor and occasionally glancing at Cynthia Roberts. It surprised him that she hadn't lost her cool during the gunfire. He hadn't even heard her scream, which he had fully expected. Her eyes met his, peering through the opening between her head covering and her veil, and he turned away.
"What was he hit with?" Shen asked.
Mobius pointed to one of the mercenary's rifles lying on the floor, "One of those, AK-47."
Alexei squatted near the dead mercenaries and began to search them methodically.
Shen pulled his knife and cut away at Preston's clothing. "Shit. He got hit in the neck . . . he's lucky to be alive at all. Somebody find me an ink pen!"
Ian leapt away from the doorway and started going through the items Mobius had knocked from the desk. Zaid knelt beside him and began to help search. A moment later Ian picked a gold and enamel pen from the scattered debris. He held it up, "Will this do?"
"No, find me a plastic one.disposable kind if you can. I need one I can take apart," Shen directed.
Ian slipped the gold pen into the pocket on his sleeve. "Trach?" he questioned as he searched for another pen.
Shen nodded, "Yeah, he's got an obstruction in his airway. Carrying him over the shoulder was all that's kept him alive this far . . . gravity was working in his favor."
Zaid held up a blue plastic pen triumphantly, "Got one!"
Ian walked back to the door, standing on top the bodies there while he kept watch, as Shen worked on Preston.
Shen worked rapidly and soon announced that it was as good as it was going to get. At least Preston was breathing through the makeshift tracheal tube without the gurgling noise he'd been making earlier. Shen gave thanks to Buddha for that.
Mobius hefted Preston back over his shoulder and the two teams, now one group of seven men and one woman made their way down the corridor and out through the archway into the courtyard. The rest of the compound was alive with the sounds of automatic weapon fire and the occasional burst of light could be seen as a grenade detonated. They kept to the shadows at the base of the building, working their way towards the main entrance and the cover of some dense ornamental bushes there.
As they reached the main entrance of the building another team met up with them. Ian glanced at his watch and noted they'd made good time. He just hoped they'd get back to base before Preston's time was up. He updated Jack Rollins on Preston's condition and nodded to the three locals on Rollins' team. Rollins, the XO, motioned towards the gate of the high wall and said, "Faris was hit too, but his wasn't as bad. The other three teams are working their way this direction. Moby, you let Zaid and Jabir carry Preston. Miss Roberts, you hang back with the locals until you see our signal." Rollins looked at the other Black Dragons, "Let's take that gate and hold it open for 'em boys."
Rollins, Ian, Mobius, Lukin, and Shen broke from cover and ran to the gate, catching a group of mercenaries there unawares. The fight was over nearly as soon as it had begun, the element of surprise on the side of the Black Dragons. Lukin fired a green pen flare skyward and moments later the locals and Cynthia Roberts joined them, Zaid and Jabir carrying Preston between them. XO Rollins ordered the locals and Cynthia out of the compound and pointed out to them the area of scraggly shrubs that would be a rendezvous point.
Ian stood beside Mobius as they and the rest of the Dragons with them waited for the onslaught that was about to begin. Takoda Russell and Phillipe Marshall came running from the main entry, a group of mercenaries following close behind them taking potshots at them intermittently. As Russell and Marshall neared the gate they turned on their pursuers, and with the added firepower of their brothers-at-arms eliminated them. Marshall informed Rollins, "Casualty count of two locals, Sir."
"Damn." Rollins pounded his fist against the high wall.
The wait was not long for the remaining two teams. The sounds of weapon fire ceased and moments later Captain Keane and the three locals with him came around the corner at a run. Seconds after that, Faris and Ramirez exited the main building. Keane gave the command to move out and the group left the compound in a low run, making for the rendezvous point.
Once under cover of the indigenous vegetation, and reunited with the locals, Captain Keane radioed for their ride, "We've got wounded and we're not going to make it to the originally agreed upon location. Requesting emergency exfil."
There was a long moment of silence before crackling static came from the radio followed by a friendly voice, "Inbound to your location, please turn on your BEACON."
Gahn Shen removed the BEACON device from Preston's LBE and turned the dial. "It's on."
Within minutes the Black Hawk could be heard and then seen coming out of the star-filled sky. As the helicopter landed, the unit hurried to load Preston aboard as well as Faris and Cynthia Roberts and the locals. As the final Dragon climbed aboard and the door slammed shut, Keane shouted, "Take her up!"
The ground below them got further and further away as pilot Michael Coleman guided the Black Hawk skillfully. The craft shuddered as a loud thump rocked the helicopter. Wingman Thomas Quincey called out, "Shit! They're firing on us!"
Coleman swung the bird around to face the compound. "Correction. . . " he flipped a plastic cover up and pressed the button beneath it sending a Stinger missile streaking towards the compound, "they WERE firing on us."
The MH-60 Black Hawk was damaged but operable. The hit by the mercenaries had put a small hole in the airframe, but having been designed by Sikorsky for heavy battle, the helicopter bore the mark of combat proudly. As it moved through the inky night sky, ominous storm clouds moved in diminishing visibility. Before they reached Base Camp, a sound similar to the hissing of thousands of snakes began.
"What the hell is that noise?" Marshall asked.
Quincey looked over his shoulder, a frown on his face, "Sandstorm starting up. What you're hearing is wind-driven sand hitting us." Soft beeps from the air-to-ground ranging radar punctuated his words.
Coleman nodded, "We're going to have to take her straight into the revetment and get her tied down. We'll off load from there rather than the airstrip." The green LED display in front of him reflected off his visor making him look more robotic than human.
True to his word, Coleman set the helicopter down in the revetment, a special area designed for parking of VTOL aircraft. Three walls formed a protective barrier around the aircraft, the fourth side open. As soon as contact with the ground was made, the doors were thrown open and Preston was handed out of the craft to waiting medical personnel. Faris disembarked on his own, but followed the stretcher carrying Preston to get attention to his own wounds. The remaining Dragons and locals helped secure the helicopter, the stinging sand biting into every bit of exposed flesh it could find. As soon as the bird was declared safe they took Cynthia Roberts and the locals to the BCOC for their debriefing.
The debriefing seemed to stretch out forever. Ian sat beside Mobius, listening but inwardly anxious to get to the field hospital to check on Preston's condition. Cynthia Roberts was standing beside Captain Keane and as Ramirez finished speaking, she took the podium, thanking the unit for their efforts in liberating her from the mercenaries' compound. Ian felt her eyes boring into him as she spoke and shifted in his seat, earning a glance from Mobius. When she was done and had stepped away from the podium, Ramirez reminded them that should anyone ask they had been on a training mission. He made a few more comments then asked that, as soon as the sand storm was over, everyone report back to the BCOC for detail assignments. At last he said the word Ian had been waiting to hear, "Dismissed."
Making their way back out into the stinging wind, particles of fine sand found their way into every nook and crevice of Ian's and Mobius' clothing. The field hospital was only a few hundred yards from the BCOC, but the walk seemed like miles in the storm. When they finally entered the main doors, they had to stop and shake sand out of their garments. Seating himself on a small bench, Ian took off his boots and poured sand out before putting them back on. Mobius followed suit and then they stopped a nurse and inquired about Preston's condition. As she walked away to find out how he was, Ian stood with his beret in his hand twisting it nervously.
Mobius looked curiously at his brother-in-arms, "What is wrong with you tonight? You couldn't sit still during the debriefing and now you're fidgeting. I've never seen you do this before. What gives, Nottingham?"
Ian sighed, "I do not know. It is that woman. I have the distinct impression I have met her before."
Mobius narrowed his eyes at his companion. "Here or in the States?"
"In the States."
Before Ian could say more, the nurse returned smiling. "You friend, Mr. Preston, is resting now. The doctor informs me that he has been stabilized and should recover fully."
Ian and Mobius let out simultaneous sighs of relief. Ian asked, "May we see him?"
The nurse smiled again, but shook her head. "Perhaps tomorrow."
"Yes Ma'am." Mobius nodded and put his hand on Ian's elbow, steering him towards the door.
Ian and Mobius returned to their tent only to find that sand had blown into it and gotten into nearly everything. They were surveying the damage as Alexei Lukin knocked and entered, closing the door behind him, "Hi, mind if I bunk with you guys till this is over?"
Ian and Mobius exchanged glances before Ian answered, "No, that will be fine. What happened with your tent?"
Alexei sighed, his boyish features taking on a disgusted look, "This damn sandstorm. The wind took it, half my stuff is here on my back, the other half on its way to Iraq by now." Lukin dropped the ALICE pack from his shoulders and it landed with a thud. "There are tents down and damaged everywhere."
"I never thought I'd say it, but thank you for insisting we do more than the required number of sandbags, Nottingham." Mobius chuckled.
Ian nodded, then sighed heavily as he discovered his cot was full of sand. "It's going to be a long night . . . what is left of it anyway."
The three men began shaking out bedding and attempting to make the conditions tolerable. As they worked the hissing sounds outside provided a constant background noise to their endeavors.
"If I live to be 100, I never want to see sand again after we leave here," Mobius stated as they finally settled down to sleep.
Ian slept fitfully, images of battles fought long ago playing through his mind.
"Hold her steady," Quincey called to Coleman.
"Move out!" came the order from Captain Keane.
Takoda Russell was the first out the door and down the cable, followed by Rollins, Faris and Lukin. Ian and Mobius followed suit, sliding down the cable rapidly and landing gracefully beside their brothers-at-arms. Ramirez, Preston and Captain Keane came down, quickly followed by Marshall and Shen. The local force came down more slowly than the Black Dragons had, but determined not to be outdone slid down without showing a trace of fear. Captain Keane, seeing everyone was accounted for, gave a hearty tug on the cable and then waved up to Quincey who was reeling the cable back in. The Captain split the units into teams of three or four men each, making sure to put at least one of his men on each team.
Ian, Mobius and Preston were teamed with only one of the locals, a man named Zaid. After some last minute instruction from their Captain, they began their mile long run through the night. Zaid kept up with them admirably.
As the compound came into view the team took shelter behind some scraggly brush. Using night vision goggles, Ian surveyed the area. "No patrol visible. The wall appears to be scaleable to the southwest corner. The only other available entrance appears to be the front gates," he whispered.
Mobius nodded from his kneeling position, then whispered, "Can you see any of the other teams?"
Ian replied quietly, "Looks like Faris and Ramirez' team are about 200 yards to our east. No others in sight yet. Preston? Do you have communication with the Captain yet?"
Preston nodded. "Yeah, I just got 2 beeps. Time to move," he related in hushed tones. In the distance the cry of a night bird was audible, a signal between teams. Preston repeated the cry, indicating they were in position.
The team ran at a low crouch to the southwest corner of the wall that Ian had proclaimed scaleable. Mobius gave Ian a place to step by lacing his hands together, then Ian, using Mobius' hands much like a springboard, ran and leapt up, grasping the top of the wall in his gloved hands. He pulled himself up to a squatting position atop the wall and lowered a nylon rope, belaying for the rest of the team.
They dropped silently into the courtyard below, using hand signals to communicate, and moved stealthily towards the main building. As they reached the lighted archway, they encountered the first of the mercenaries. Ian was the first to reach him, and with a seemingly superhuman burst of speed and strength, he snapped the man's neck before there was ever an opportunity for him alert others to the invasion. Letting the man's body drop to the ground, he turned and gave Mobius the hand sign for "first blood."
Zaid watched in amazement at the proficiency of these Black Dragons. He had been told of their prowess, but thought it all propaganda with little basis in truth. Now he knew differently. He dutifully followed Ian, Mobius and Preston through the arch and into the building.
The sound of gunfire pierced the quietude from the far side of the complex. Ian and Mobius exchanged glances and then gave each other a few hand signals. Preston made a few gestures as well. Ian nodded to the team and they made their way down the corridor quickly. Ian listened at a door for a moment and then slowly turned the knob. He eased the door open and, stooping low, peered into the room. Seeing it was uninhabited he entered and motioned for the others to follow him. From the sketches of the compounds interior they had been shown, Ian was fairly certain they were on the right track to finding the area where Cynthia Roberts was most likely to be.
A lighted stairwell provided illumination in the room, the soft yellow glow cast into the room causing the dark wood furniture to gleam. The fragrance of incense wafted down from the stairs, indicating the upstairs was populated. Ian gave the signal to move on three, then ticked off three seconds on his gloved fingers. Just as the group started for the stairwell the door burst open and the room was filled with automatic gunfire. Preston, who had been bringing up the rear went down immediately. Ian, one step ahead of Preston, swung around and brought his M-203 up discharging a 40mm grenade at the mercenaries. The report was deafening and when the smoke and debris settled, he could see the doorway was littered with bodies of the mercenaries. Even though his hearing was diminished, he could plainly hear footsteps retreating rapidly down the corridor.
"Shit! Preston was hit!" Mobius was kneeling beside his fallen comrade.
Ian's eyes expressed his concern clearly as they darted between Preston and the doorway, "Is he alive?"
Mobius nodded, "Barely, but yeah."
Zaid finally spoke up, "Leave him, we've got to get out of here now."
Ian rounded on Zaid, the fury in his face causing the smaller man eyes to widen and to take a step backward. "We will never leave a Black Dragon for dead, " he growled, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Never," Mobius reiterated as he stood, lifting Preston over his massive shoulder easily, "Let's go."
The group made their way up the stairwell, Ian leading the way. Mobius and Preston were next and Zaid brought up the rear. As they came into the brightly-lit room, Ian faced two very scared women huddled in the corner.
"Cynthia Roberts?" Ian asked.
The thinner of the two veiled women nodded her head vigorously.
"Come on, time to get you out of here."
The second woman looked even more frightened at the thought of being left alone. She started speaking rapidly in an Arabic language.
Zaid replied to the woman in soothing tones and she nodded, seeming somewhat calmer.
Cynthia waved to the other woman, "Thank you, Hayat. Be well." She turned back to Ian, "I'm ready."
The group made their way back down the stairs, Ian in the lead again and Zaid right behind him. As they reached the bottom of the stairwell four mercenaries stood waiting for them, rifles pointed directly at Ian's chest.
Time seemed to slow as Ian raised his hands, holding his M-203 aloft. He heard Zaid's sharp intake of air directly behind him. The mercenaries in front of him had no intention other than killing them, he knew. In one fluid motion, Ian spun and pushed Zaid down with one hand, causing a domino effect on the rest of the group. With his other hand he brought the M-203 level and laid down a spray of bullets, dropping two of the mercenaries. He tossed his weapon to the ground and advanced on the remaining two just as one of them opened fire on him.
Ian grasped for the barrel of the rifle the man was holding and pulled the man off balance by it, sending the bullets sailing harmlessly into the plaster-work near the ceiling. He spun the man around using him as a shield and causing him to drop his rifle while pinioning the man's arm up into the small of his back with one hand. His free hand reached down to his leg and retrieved his knife.
Ian's eyes never left the mercenary standing in front of him as he slit the throat of the man in his arms and proceeded to twist the man's head away from his body with a sickening ripping sound. Blood sprayed every direction. Ian's voice was low and dangerous as he said, "That was for Preston." He dropped the lifeless body and stalked toward the terrified man in front of him.
The mercenary standing in front of Ian Nottingham raised his hands in a defensive gesture, his rifle dropping uselessly to the floor, and stared at the man dressed in black coming towards him. One look at the face of his opponent told him it was over, the controlled rage and fury bottled within this man was about to break loose and he was the unfortunate target. A muttered prayer to Allah left his lips seconds before the heel of Ian's hand connected with his face, sending the bone shards that used to be the bridge of his nose slamming into his brain.
Ian stepped over the body of the mercenary and continued towards the doorway, stepping over the bodies heaped there and peering out into the corridor. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Gahn Shen's team coming his way. "In here!" he called in a loud whisper.
Shen, the Medical NCO of the Black Dragons, entered the room and assessed the carnage. All the dead appeared to be mercenaries. It was then that he noticed Preston, who was slung over Mobius' shoulder. "Oh no . . .is he still breathing?" Alexei Lukin and a member of the local force entered behind Shen.
Shen and Lukin both looked toward Mobius for an answer.
Mobius nodded and with one massive hand swept the contents of a large table off into the floor, putting Preston down in its place.
Shen stepped forward and examined Preston, noting the large amount of blood matting the man's black clothing to his neck and upper chest. He frowned as he listened to the man's breathing which was producing a gurgling sound.
Ian retrieved his M-203 and then stood by the door, frequently looking both directions down the corridor and occasionally glancing at Cynthia Roberts. It surprised him that she hadn't lost her cool during the gunfire. He hadn't even heard her scream, which he had fully expected. Her eyes met his, peering through the opening between her head covering and her veil, and he turned away.
"What was he hit with?" Shen asked.
Mobius pointed to one of the mercenary's rifles lying on the floor, "One of those, AK-47."
Alexei squatted near the dead mercenaries and began to search them methodically.
Shen pulled his knife and cut away at Preston's clothing. "Shit. He got hit in the neck . . . he's lucky to be alive at all. Somebody find me an ink pen!"
Ian leapt away from the doorway and started going through the items Mobius had knocked from the desk. Zaid knelt beside him and began to help search. A moment later Ian picked a gold and enamel pen from the scattered debris. He held it up, "Will this do?"
"No, find me a plastic one.disposable kind if you can. I need one I can take apart," Shen directed.
Ian slipped the gold pen into the pocket on his sleeve. "Trach?" he questioned as he searched for another pen.
Shen nodded, "Yeah, he's got an obstruction in his airway. Carrying him over the shoulder was all that's kept him alive this far . . . gravity was working in his favor."
Zaid held up a blue plastic pen triumphantly, "Got one!"
Ian walked back to the door, standing on top the bodies there while he kept watch, as Shen worked on Preston.
Shen worked rapidly and soon announced that it was as good as it was going to get. At least Preston was breathing through the makeshift tracheal tube without the gurgling noise he'd been making earlier. Shen gave thanks to Buddha for that.
Mobius hefted Preston back over his shoulder and the two teams, now one group of seven men and one woman made their way down the corridor and out through the archway into the courtyard. The rest of the compound was alive with the sounds of automatic weapon fire and the occasional burst of light could be seen as a grenade detonated. They kept to the shadows at the base of the building, working their way towards the main entrance and the cover of some dense ornamental bushes there.
As they reached the main entrance of the building another team met up with them. Ian glanced at his watch and noted they'd made good time. He just hoped they'd get back to base before Preston's time was up. He updated Jack Rollins on Preston's condition and nodded to the three locals on Rollins' team. Rollins, the XO, motioned towards the gate of the high wall and said, "Faris was hit too, but his wasn't as bad. The other three teams are working their way this direction. Moby, you let Zaid and Jabir carry Preston. Miss Roberts, you hang back with the locals until you see our signal." Rollins looked at the other Black Dragons, "Let's take that gate and hold it open for 'em boys."
Rollins, Ian, Mobius, Lukin, and Shen broke from cover and ran to the gate, catching a group of mercenaries there unawares. The fight was over nearly as soon as it had begun, the element of surprise on the side of the Black Dragons. Lukin fired a green pen flare skyward and moments later the locals and Cynthia Roberts joined them, Zaid and Jabir carrying Preston between them. XO Rollins ordered the locals and Cynthia out of the compound and pointed out to them the area of scraggly shrubs that would be a rendezvous point.
Ian stood beside Mobius as they and the rest of the Dragons with them waited for the onslaught that was about to begin. Takoda Russell and Phillipe Marshall came running from the main entry, a group of mercenaries following close behind them taking potshots at them intermittently. As Russell and Marshall neared the gate they turned on their pursuers, and with the added firepower of their brothers-at-arms eliminated them. Marshall informed Rollins, "Casualty count of two locals, Sir."
"Damn." Rollins pounded his fist against the high wall.
The wait was not long for the remaining two teams. The sounds of weapon fire ceased and moments later Captain Keane and the three locals with him came around the corner at a run. Seconds after that, Faris and Ramirez exited the main building. Keane gave the command to move out and the group left the compound in a low run, making for the rendezvous point.
Once under cover of the indigenous vegetation, and reunited with the locals, Captain Keane radioed for their ride, "We've got wounded and we're not going to make it to the originally agreed upon location. Requesting emergency exfil."
There was a long moment of silence before crackling static came from the radio followed by a friendly voice, "Inbound to your location, please turn on your BEACON."
Gahn Shen removed the BEACON device from Preston's LBE and turned the dial. "It's on."
Within minutes the Black Hawk could be heard and then seen coming out of the star-filled sky. As the helicopter landed, the unit hurried to load Preston aboard as well as Faris and Cynthia Roberts and the locals. As the final Dragon climbed aboard and the door slammed shut, Keane shouted, "Take her up!"
The ground below them got further and further away as pilot Michael Coleman guided the Black Hawk skillfully. The craft shuddered as a loud thump rocked the helicopter. Wingman Thomas Quincey called out, "Shit! They're firing on us!"
Coleman swung the bird around to face the compound. "Correction. . . " he flipped a plastic cover up and pressed the button beneath it sending a Stinger missile streaking towards the compound, "they WERE firing on us."
The MH-60 Black Hawk was damaged but operable. The hit by the mercenaries had put a small hole in the airframe, but having been designed by Sikorsky for heavy battle, the helicopter bore the mark of combat proudly. As it moved through the inky night sky, ominous storm clouds moved in diminishing visibility. Before they reached Base Camp, a sound similar to the hissing of thousands of snakes began.
"What the hell is that noise?" Marshall asked.
Quincey looked over his shoulder, a frown on his face, "Sandstorm starting up. What you're hearing is wind-driven sand hitting us." Soft beeps from the air-to-ground ranging radar punctuated his words.
Coleman nodded, "We're going to have to take her straight into the revetment and get her tied down. We'll off load from there rather than the airstrip." The green LED display in front of him reflected off his visor making him look more robotic than human.
True to his word, Coleman set the helicopter down in the revetment, a special area designed for parking of VTOL aircraft. Three walls formed a protective barrier around the aircraft, the fourth side open. As soon as contact with the ground was made, the doors were thrown open and Preston was handed out of the craft to waiting medical personnel. Faris disembarked on his own, but followed the stretcher carrying Preston to get attention to his own wounds. The remaining Dragons and locals helped secure the helicopter, the stinging sand biting into every bit of exposed flesh it could find. As soon as the bird was declared safe they took Cynthia Roberts and the locals to the BCOC for their debriefing.
The debriefing seemed to stretch out forever. Ian sat beside Mobius, listening but inwardly anxious to get to the field hospital to check on Preston's condition. Cynthia Roberts was standing beside Captain Keane and as Ramirez finished speaking, she took the podium, thanking the unit for their efforts in liberating her from the mercenaries' compound. Ian felt her eyes boring into him as she spoke and shifted in his seat, earning a glance from Mobius. When she was done and had stepped away from the podium, Ramirez reminded them that should anyone ask they had been on a training mission. He made a few more comments then asked that, as soon as the sand storm was over, everyone report back to the BCOC for detail assignments. At last he said the word Ian had been waiting to hear, "Dismissed."
Making their way back out into the stinging wind, particles of fine sand found their way into every nook and crevice of Ian's and Mobius' clothing. The field hospital was only a few hundred yards from the BCOC, but the walk seemed like miles in the storm. When they finally entered the main doors, they had to stop and shake sand out of their garments. Seating himself on a small bench, Ian took off his boots and poured sand out before putting them back on. Mobius followed suit and then they stopped a nurse and inquired about Preston's condition. As she walked away to find out how he was, Ian stood with his beret in his hand twisting it nervously.
Mobius looked curiously at his brother-in-arms, "What is wrong with you tonight? You couldn't sit still during the debriefing and now you're fidgeting. I've never seen you do this before. What gives, Nottingham?"
Ian sighed, "I do not know. It is that woman. I have the distinct impression I have met her before."
Mobius narrowed his eyes at his companion. "Here or in the States?"
"In the States."
Before Ian could say more, the nurse returned smiling. "You friend, Mr. Preston, is resting now. The doctor informs me that he has been stabilized and should recover fully."
Ian and Mobius let out simultaneous sighs of relief. Ian asked, "May we see him?"
The nurse smiled again, but shook her head. "Perhaps tomorrow."
"Yes Ma'am." Mobius nodded and put his hand on Ian's elbow, steering him towards the door.
Ian and Mobius returned to their tent only to find that sand had blown into it and gotten into nearly everything. They were surveying the damage as Alexei Lukin knocked and entered, closing the door behind him, "Hi, mind if I bunk with you guys till this is over?"
Ian and Mobius exchanged glances before Ian answered, "No, that will be fine. What happened with your tent?"
Alexei sighed, his boyish features taking on a disgusted look, "This damn sandstorm. The wind took it, half my stuff is here on my back, the other half on its way to Iraq by now." Lukin dropped the ALICE pack from his shoulders and it landed with a thud. "There are tents down and damaged everywhere."
"I never thought I'd say it, but thank you for insisting we do more than the required number of sandbags, Nottingham." Mobius chuckled.
Ian nodded, then sighed heavily as he discovered his cot was full of sand. "It's going to be a long night . . . what is left of it anyway."
The three men began shaking out bedding and attempting to make the conditions tolerable. As they worked the hissing sounds outside provided a constant background noise to their endeavors.
"If I live to be 100, I never want to see sand again after we leave here," Mobius stated as they finally settled down to sleep.
Ian slept fitfully, images of battles fought long ago playing through his mind.