Apache Dawn: Book I of the Wildfire Saga (75 page)

“Thank you, but that’s a big negative.
 
There’s a Russian patrol hunting for us, up the street—”

“Son of a
bitch!
” said George through clenched teeth.
 
He grabbed a rifle from beside the door.
 
“That was you guys earlier?
 
I heard them Apaches.
 
Haven’t heard that sweet sound since my time in the Sandbox.
 
Sounded like they were really spankin’ ‘em.
 
Then…I saw the smoke…” he looked down sadly.
 
His face brightened quickly.
 
“I was a pretty good shot back in the day.
 
Let me help.
 
Ain’t got nothing else to do.”

Captain Alston considered this a moment as he checked on the Russians.
 
He relented.
 
“All right, go see my Corporal inside.
 
He’ll tell you what to do.”

“Great.
 
And thanks.
 
Stay safe, Denny.
 
I wish I was out there with you.”
 
He tapped the prosthetic legs under his bathrobe with the muzzle of his hunting rifle.

“You’ve already done your part, sir.
 
I appreciate the assistance,” replied Captain Alston.
 
They shook hands again.

“Here,” said the Captain, after the door shut.
 
He tossed Garza’s M4 and ammo kit.
 
Denny caught the rifle in mid-air, splattering himself with water.
 
“Best get going, sir.”

“Roger that,” said Zuka.
 
He turned to Denny.
 
“Follow me, sir,
if
you can keep up.”
 
The short Ranger grinned and dashed off into the rain, running low and hunched over.

Denny nodded, slung the olive-drab messenger bag over his shoulder and ran across the street in his best imitation of Zuka’s hunched-over run.
 
He found the small Ranger lurking behind a pine tree on the corner of the lot opposite the McDonnell place.

“Not bad, sir.
 
Not bad.”
 
Zuka pulled out a small LED flashlight and clicked it on and off twice, using his hand to shield it from the Russians up the street.
 
Denny watched as a light blinked twice in the gloomy darkness.

“How far are we to the river?” asked Zuka, peering into the sodden darkness on the other side of the tree.

Denny thought for a second, catching his breath.
 
The rifle was not too heavy just standing around, but running across the street with it had winded him.
 
The adrenaline didn’t help either.
 
He squinted through the rain.
 

“I think it’s about a hundred yards.”

“You
think?
”
 
Zuka chuckled to himself.
 
“Well, it’s all we got, I guess—”

"
All units stand-by
," Captain Alston's voice announced.
 

Denny’s thoughts drifted to Chad Huntley, the civilian that had started this whole mess.
 
Where was he?
 
Was he alive?
 
Did he run off and leave Tuck to die?
 
Was he kidnapped somehow?
 
Denny shook his head in disbelief that so many people were risking their lives for Huntley.
 
A traitor—if one was to believe the ever changing public announcements on the radio.

"Enemy patrol sighted,
" whispered Deuce.
 
“
Two-man element.
 
East side of the street.
 
They’re not checking door to door.
 
Coming straight on
.
 
I think they know we’re here.
”

“
Uh-huh. Ivan’s sending out two guys to anchor the line and keep the rabbits from running off into the storm,
” said Captain Alston.
 
“
Too bad for them, we ain’t rabbits
.”

“Hooah!” whispered Zuka.
 
He shot a grin at Denny.

"
Deuce, you take the first shot as they pass your position.
 
Everyone else, that's your cue
," said Captain Alston.
 

"
Stand-by one
," muttered Deuce’s voice.
 
Next to Denny, Zuka was peering through the small scope on his rifle.
 
He clicked a small button and adjusted a dial, then started to calm his breathing.
 

Denny raised his own rifle and peered into the darkness.
 
He couldn’t see anything past fifty feet.
 
Just a wall of rain.
 

A single rifle shot broke through the steady din of the storm.
 
Denny was amazed the sound of the gun was so quiet.
 
What gave away the Ranger assault was the muzzle flashes.
 
He grinned.
 
Even that, reflected as it was off the houses and cars in the street, looked like the lightning that had been pummeling the area for over an hour.

Zuka took off for the street at the start of the shooting, in order to take out the other Russian.
 
Denny followed, crouching as he ran, but by the time he got to the front yard, it was all over.
 

He held up a hand to shield his eyes from the rain and could see Zuka’s shadowy form dragging a dark object off the street toward another abandoned house.
 
As he trotted over to the scene of the ambush, even the blood was being erased by the storm.
 
Zuka slipped past him back into the shadows of the house and handed off an AK-47.
 

“Put it over your shoulder.
 
Never know when you’re going to need some more firepower.”

Denny took the heavy rifle.
 
He ducked under the strap and adjusted it before he too crouched and headed for the safety of the pine trees.

"
Never knew what hit 'em
," commented Deuce.
 

"
Settle down, people.
 
A two-man patrol ambushed in these conditions is nothing to cheer about.
 
Any one of you should have been able to do that by yourselves.
 
Stay on mission.”
 

By the time he and Zuka reached the churning river that gave its name to the town, Denny had a newfound respect for the physical conditioning of the Rangers.
 
He was panting and doubled over to catch a sodden breath when they paused to get their bearings.
   

Zuka appeared to be none the worse for wear, despite carrying his rifle and battle load-out.
 
Denny had his tomahawk and the borrowed M4, with the addition of the liberated AK-47.
 
Hunting the mountains around town during the year, Denny had always assumed he was in the best shape of his life—yet the short Ranger was on a whole other level.

"Whenever you're ready, sir..." smiled Zuka.

“Heads up,”
warned Captain Alston’s voice.
 
“Ivan’s stopped about four houses up.
 
They’re gathering in the street.
 
Hard to see through the rain but it looks like they’re arguing
.”

"Movement!
 
Get down!" hissed the Ranger.

Denny dropped into the mud next to Zuka and tried to calm his heart.
 
He strained his ears to pick up any sound that would mean approaching Russians.
 
Any radio, any foreign sounding chatter.
 
Zuka planted a finger across his lips and shook his head.
 
He pointed at his eyes, held up three fingers, then gestured to their right, along the shoreline toward the town park to the north end of the street.
 
Denny nodded, then turned his head ever so slowly until he could see the dark outline of the jungle gym in the gloomy distance.

There.
 
A tiny red light flashed.
 
He looked back at Zuka who nodded and held up his fingers to his lips as if he were smoking a cigarette.
 
Then he frowned and shook his head in a gesture of disbelief.
 

They were both laying along the side of a riverfront fishing shelter, completely exposed to the Russians.
 
They had the storm for cover, but otherwise, only a stretch of too-tall sawgrass and deep mud sheltered them from direct sight of the enemy patrol.
 
Zuka pulled his rifle ever so slowly through the mud until he had it at his shoulder.
 
He settled his cheek against the stock and peered through the scope.

Denny started to move his own rifle when Zuka, without looking waved him off in a tense gesture.
 
He pointed roughly in Denny's direction and held out his hand in the universal
stop
sign.
 

How did he know I was moving?
Denny wondered, blinking through the rain.

“Heads up Zuka…BTR in the street.
 
They’re getting reinforced.
 
Four houses up now,”
Deuce’s voice warned over Denny’s headset.

Denny saw the headlights lance around the side of a house in the distance.
 
Great white beams of light cut through the storm and swept around the playground as the vehicle pulled up alongside the Russians.
 
His blood chilled.
 
As the lights illuminated the patrol, he and Zuka saw that it wasn't just three men, but ten, all clustered around the jungle gym.
 

When the big, armored personnel-carrier stopped, rain-slick brakes squealing in protest, the Russians all eagerly moved inside through the big hatch that opened up on the back.
 
The vehicle sat there for about three minutes, the engine growling at idle, exhaust smoking in the chilly rain.
 
Then as Denny was about to tap Zuka on the boot to signal they should move, they saw one last figure leave the jungle gym.
 
Very slowly, the Russian moved his rifle around, scanning the area.

He's spotted us.
 
They left a sniper behind to catch us...Mishe Moneto protect us.
 
Let me die well…

The Russian suddenly lowered his rifle, turned and boarded the BTR at a trot.
 
The hatch closed, the big engine roared, and the ugly machine rumbled off toward the center of town in a cloud of exhaust.
 
After a few seconds, the only sound they heard was the incessant drumming of the rain.
 
Denny let his breath out and lowered his face into the mud.

"
That
, my friend," said Zuka in a whisper, "was close."

“Ivan giving up?”
asked Deuce.

“
Negative.
 
I see something glowing in the distance—I think it’s a fire near City Hall.
 
Maybe the good people of Salmon Falls are getting restless
,” said Captain Alston’s voice.
 
“
Everyone sit tight.
”

Denny smiled.
 
He could well imagine more than a few of the more outspoken patriotic townies who would probably enjoy the cover of the storm to cause a little chaos for the invaders.
 
He wanted to run down the street and join them.

After a few moments of waiting in the cold rain, Captain Alston finally broke squelch: “
Hammer 2, listen up—Ivan’s pulled out of this sector.
 
Everyone regroup
.”

“Roger that, comin’ back,” said Zuka.
 
He turned to Denny and wiped the mud off his cheek.
 
“Let’s get up and get moving, sir.
 
There may still be Russians out there, waiting for us to move, so be careful and be
quiet
.
 
Got it?”

Denny nodded.

“Don’t say much, do you?
 
Good.
 
Follow my lead.”

Denny picked his way through the mud and the grass as they crossed a number of sodden backyards and worked their way closer to George McDonnell’s house.
 
It took them nearly half an hour to move one block, racing to cover around the corners of each of the abandoned houses and trees as they went.
 
Denny marveled that there were so many empty houses in town.
 
He supposed that after the Blue Flu had roared through the region, this side of town never fully recovered.

At last they raced, hunched over, back across the street and reached George McDonnell’s house wet, tired, and hungry.
 
Captain Alston opened the back door and let them in himself.

“Welcome back,” he said, handing Zuka a steaming cup of coffee.
 
He offered a second to Denny.

Denny was about to ask what their next move would be when a radio broke squelch and its tinny speaker cut through the quiet talk and the noise of the rain on the roof: “
Hammer 2, Actual, Hammer 2 Golf,”
called out Garza’s voice.

“Go ahead, Golf,” said the Captain.

“
Just made contact with Watchtower!
 
They got my sit-rep and are coordinating with available forces to send a combat Evac.
 
But we’ve got to knock out the remaining SAM sites
.”