Apocalypse Burning (53 page)

The chains were heavy and thick, probably weighing a good five or ten pounds. Enough weight to throw someone off while running if he or she wasn’t used to it.

On top of that,
Goose thought,
these women are scared to death.
He glanced back at Fieldstone’s body, then noticed the medkit the young private had carried. Laying one of the machine pistols down, Goose reached into the medkit and took out a roll of heavy surgical tape. He tossed the roll to Hannah.

“Hannah,” Goose said, “use the tape to secure the chains in coils. Just loop it around and around. If the chains are in coils, they’ll be easier to carry. And if you drop one, it shouldn’t hang low enough to trip you.”

“All right.” Hannah tore off the strips of tape with expert ease.

“Nurse?” Goose asked.

She looked up at him, startled. “How did you know?”

“A lucky guess, ma’am. That’s all.”

“I was part of the U.N. Peacekeeping force,” Hannah said as she went to work on the young girl’s chain. “Just over for a week. Brought my girl, Julie. Nothing like this was supposed to happen. We’ve been praying that someone would come for us. That slave trader Abu Alam brought us here yesterday.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Yes, ma’am. I am too. Private Fieldstone was a good soldier.”

Hannah finished binding the third chain. “Don’t you have other men in the area, Sergeant?”

Goose guessed she must have overheard Fieldstone address him as sergeant. He wore no rank insignia. “There are, ma’am, but they’re under orders to evac and scoot.”

Hannah looked like she couldn’t believe it. “They’re just going to leave us here?”

“No, ma’am,” Goose said. “I’m here with you. I’m going to get you out of here.” He stood, favoring his bad knee. “Are you ready to go? We don’t have much time. They’ll leave us sure enough if we’re not there.”

“Not exactly heroic, is it, Sergeant?”

“Ma’am,” Goose said, “soldiers aren’t heroes. They’re men doing hard, dangerous jobs. They’re also men who take orders. Men who get unlucky and sometimes die.” He spoke across Fieldstone’s corpse, but neither of them looked at the dead man. “We’re running short on soldiers in Sanliurfa as it is. I can get you out of here, but you’re going to have to listen to me.”

“All right. What do we do?”

“There’s a garage below.”

“I saw it.”

Goose admired the way the woman adapted. Hannah had gone from victim to survivor in seconds. Some people spent their whole lives and couldn’t make that jump.

“Our SIGNIT intel indicates that there are vehicles inside that garage,” Goose went on. “We’re going to take one and attempt to rendezvous with the rest of my squad.”

More explosions pealed outside. Some of them were close enough now that concussive waves vibrated through the building.

“All right, Sergeant,” Hannah said.

“Do you know how to use a weapon, ma’am?”

“No. All I ever volunteered for was nursing.”

Goose nodded. “Keep these two with you. Keep them moving.” He scanned the hallway. “I’m going to secure the hallway. Don’t leave this room until I tell you we’re clear.”

“All right.” Hannah wrapped her arms around her daughter, who held her and cried.

Goose stood and moved out into the hallway with both MP5s at the ready. Having a two-man team would have been better. He felt like he needed to grow eyes in the back of his head. His bad knee felt stiff and uncomfortable, but it functioned.

Movement in the stairwell alerted him, letting him jerk his head back just as a Syrian soldier fired. The bullet cut through the corner of the stairwell and spun through the space where Goose’s head had just been.

Dropping his right-hand MP5 so the machine pistol hung from the whip-it sling around his right shoulder, Goose took an M67 frag grenade from his LCE, pulled the pin, slipped the spoon, and counted off two seconds of the four-second fuse. He pitched the grenade underhanded, rolling it just above floor level so that it hopped into the stairwell.

A startled exclamation triggered a flurry of frantic footsteps; then the grenade detonation made Goose temporarily deaf.

“Sergeant!” Hannah yelled.

“Yes, ma’am,” Goose responded. “Hold up just a minute more.” He checked the stairwell and spotted the Syrian soldier lying facedown on the second flight of steps.

Goose moved down the hallway, found two other dead Syrian guards he and Fieldstone had accounted for, as well as the com center. It was too late to stop any communications.

“Base,” Goose said, hustling back to the stairwell. “This is Alpha Leader. Base, do you read?”

“Base reads you, Alpha Leader,” a man’s voice answered.

“Can I get an assist?” Goose asked.

“What do you need? The other teams are already working their own exfiltration.”

“Do you have thermographic access to the building for a scan?” Goose asked.

“Affirmative.”

“I’m on the second floor. You’ve probably got me tagged.”

“Affirmative, Alpha Leader.”

“I got three civilians with me. They’re on the same floor.”

“Affirmative.”

“Tag them for me in case we get separated during the evac.”

“Done, Alpha Leader.” The op tech hesitated. “You need to get moving.”

“Got retaliation coming in from the main camp?”

“Affirmative. You’ll probably have a bit of a dust-up; then they’ll pull back.”

That caught Goose’s immediate attention. “Why?”

“Base has an air strike headed their way that should reach out and touch them in less than two minutes.”

Goose let out a long, angry breath. Remington hadn’t mentioned anything about an air strike against the main campsite. Alpha and Bravo Details had been bait. The hit-and-git they’d managed here had resulted in the loss of thousands of gallons of fuel and some armored cav units as well as at least one of the four officers they’d been after.

“Sweep the bottom floor for me,” Goose said.

“I’ve got two unfriendlies. One near the front door and the other in the kitchen.”

“Hannah,” Goose called, “time to go.” He started down the stairs and picked up the electronic detonator to the Claymore Conner had put on the front door. Picturing the building’s layout in his mind, he triggered the detonator and stepped around the corner near the stairwell.

The explosion drowned out all other sounds for a moment; then a man screamed in agony.

The Syrian soldier in the kitchen was caught by surprise. He’d gone to the door near the common room to check on his partner. Too late, he saw or sensed Goose’s approach. He brought his AK-47 up, already firing.

Rounds stitched the wall beside Goose as he walked into the gunfire. One of the rounds caught his Kevlar vest with a glancing sledgehammer blow. Goose put a three-round burst through the Syrian soldier’s head, blowing him backwards.

Remaining cautious, Goose peered around the corner and spotted the wounded Syrian guard who had screamed lying by the front door with his assault rifle snugged up against his arm. Goose shot the man just as the soldier spotted him and tried to bring his weapon up.

“Hannah,” Goose called, swapping magazines and moving toward the garage access door on the other side of the kitchen area.

“We’re here.”

“Base,” Goose called.

“Here.”

“Sweep the garage. Vehicles and troops.”

“Three vehicles. Four men. One of the men is in the vehicle nearest the garage door. Two are in the corner directly opposite you. The last man is to your left, next to the wall six feet from your present twenty.”

“Affirmative.” Goose selected another M67 grenade, pulled the ring, then opened the garage door and tossed the grenade into the opposite side. The light from the explosion filled the garage for a moment, and the sound of painful screams rolled over Goose.

Looking up the wall by the door, realizing the materials were cheap and not bullet-resistant, Goose burned a full clip tracking down the wall.

“Two down,” the op tech said. “One still in the car and one still in the corner opposite your present twenty.”

Goose dropped the empty magazine and shoved a fresh one home. He didn’t try to think. Everything at this point was nerve and reaction. He was a gun sight just trying to stay alive.

“You’ve got vehicles headed your way, Alpha Leader,” the op tech said. “Evidently somebody’s called for backup and let them know someone’s still inside the building.”

“Affirmative, Base.”

Hoping his Kevlar armor and helmet would keep him protected—knowing that if reinforcements arrived before he could secure a car, he probably wouldn’t get one—Goose stepped into the garage with an MP5 in each hand.

The guy in the corner had evidently been hit because he didn’t even try to move. The 9mm rounds knocked him back against the wall and put him down. Goose targeted the guy behind the steering wheel in the big four-wheel-drive Ford Explorer and squeezed the trigger.

A fistsized hole appeared in the windshield over the driver’s head.

“Am I clear?” Goose asked.

“Clean and green inside, Alpha Leader.”

Goose called for Hannah, picking up his speed till he reached the Explorer. The vehicle was expensive and a long way from home, proof that the drug-money profits were considerable. The custom paint job further elaborated on that.

The driver’s door was unlocked. He opened it, reached in, and yanked the dead man from behind the steering wheel. He tripped the electronic locks, opening all the doors.

“Get in, belt up, and stay down,” Goose ordered. The key was in the ignition and the engine was running. There was no electronic garage-door opener. Evidently not all options were available.

“Alpha Leader, you’ve got a T-72 parked nearly at your doorstep. Hey, the turret is swiveling. He’s targeting the garage.”

Goose pulled the gearshift into drive, thanking God that the vehicle was an automatic, and floored the accelerator. The reinforced front end plowed through the tin-and-wood garage door.

Thirty yards out, Goose sideswiped the T-72 main battle tank just as the main gun fired. The collision shivered through the Explorer but the big vehicle held together. Metal screeched in his ears. Then he realized why he hadn’t seen the tank: The underground caverns that had held the fuel stores were fiery pits of forty-foot orange flames with serpentine coils of black smoke that looked gray against the night sky.

“Base,” Goose called over the headset. He stripped off the NVGs and tossed them on the floor.

“Go, Alpha Leader.”

Goose drove through burning hulks of APCs and tanks. Maybe Lieutenant York’s team hadn’t gotten all of their targets, but they’d gotten most of them. He steered for the airfield.

“Where are the evac birds?”

“Birds are in the air, Alpha Leader,” Lieutenant Keller responded. “We tried to hold back but were ordered to move.”

Goose thought about that. Remington had to have known he was in motion, had to have known he had the three women with him.

“How far out are the incoming Syrian birds?” Goose asked.

“Less than a minute away,” the op tech said. “Closing fast.”

“Alpha Leader,” Remington said, his voice strong and cold. “Those birds will not sit down. If they do, I’m going to lose twentysomething Rangers while trying to save one.”

And three women,
Goose thought, but he didn’t say anything. “Understood, Base. We won’t need them to land. We’ll make a transfer from the vehicle I’ve commandeered to the helo.” He cut the wheel, catching sight of a tank’s turret spinning in his direction. A second later the main gun belched flame and the round whistled past them to explode against the ground and leave a huge crater.

“Too risky,” Remington said.

“We can do it,” Keller said.

“I’ve got three women with me,” Goose said.

“We’re not going to leave those women behind, Base,” Keller said.

“Affirmative,” Remington said, but he didn’t sound happy.

“Base,” Keller called out, “get me a lock on Alpha Leader.”

“Base, Alpha Prime, be advised that I’m running due north.” With the four-wheel drive, Goose was able to cross the broken terrain. He kept the accelerator down, mowing over everything that wasn’t big enough to stop him.

“Alpha Leader,” Keller said, “we have you in sight.”

The Explorer bounced and careened over the rough ground.

Glancing up, both hands on the wheel, Goose saw one of the Mi-8s descend on him like a hawk taking a mouse. Four Rangers hung from lines from the helo. The helo pilot matched speeds with the Explorer and seconds later, the Rangers landed on top of the luxury vehicle and grabbed hold of the luggage rack.

Hannah and the others put up only a small argument once they were advised that the Syrian air force was in pursuit. With the Rangers assisting them, they were hauled up on lines into the safety of the Mi-8.

Goose was given his own line. He locked the Explorer into cruise control, opened the door, and stepped off into the loop of the line. For one dizzying second, he spun at the end of the line. Then everything straightened out as the Explorer went airborne and flipped end over end before catching on fire and exploding.