Page 2 of Seaside Strangers
A support team was two minutes out by chopper if things went sideways. The Black Hawk remained nearby, ready to extract them and the hostages.
KC scanned the area one last time through his night-vision goggles, checked the time, then tapped the microphone on his communication headset. "It's a go."
He had to keep himself from chuckling when he heard a soft voice respond through his earpiece. "Here comes trouble!"
A half second later, an ammunition storage shack on the far side of the camp exploded in a thundering wall of flames. The terrorists, known in military speak as tangos, poured out into the compound in confusion and dropped to the ground as automatic gunfire was sprayed in their direction from all sides. KC and his chief quickly reached the back of the building housing thehostages and snuck their way around to the front entrance.
The Taliban rebels desperately tried to return fire at the invisible enemy, well hidden in the dark of night. Those who were still alive were too busy running for cover to notice the two men entering the simple wood and brick structure. KC hurried over to the nearest man lying prone on the ground. Although the pilot was covered in dirt and grime, the lieutenant could still distinguish the remnants of the U.S. Army flight suit. The man appeared weak but alert.
"Captain Nichols?" When the man nodded, his eyes widening in disbelief and hope, the SEAL continued with wry humor. "U.S. Navy, here to save your sorry butts, sir. Are you able to run?"
The emaciated Captain nodded his head again and scrambled to his bare feet with the help of his rescuer. "I think so.”
“Where’s Lieutenant Fischer?”
“Over there,” Nichols replied, indicating the southwest corner of the dirt floor. “He was beaten up pretty badly yesterday. Been in and out of it all night."
KC reached behind him, where he had a pair of combat boots and black socks hooked to his belt,and handed them to Nichols. “Here, quick. Throw these on. Figured you’d need them. I brought a pair for Fischer, but I doubt he’ll be running.”
Rushing over to the unconscious man lying near the back wall, KC did a quick assessment. He thanked God when he found the man was breathing and had a weak pulse. Unable to rouse the young pilot, he picked him up and threw him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry as if he were a five-pound sack of potatoes. He told Nichols to join Chief Anderson, who stood at the door, his eyes and weapon aimed outside, providing cover. Speaking into his com-set, Malone informed the rest of his team that the hostages had been recovered, and they were ready to haul off to the extraction point. “Pick up the action, boys, so we can slip out of here and get a head start.
The sound of gunfire immediately increased from the surrounding blackness. Anderson, Nichols, and then KC, carrying Fischer, filed out of the hut, disappearing over a nearby hill as fast as possible in absolute silence. KC had no trouble carrying the unconscious man over the treacherous terrain. The lieutenant weighed barely a hundred and forty pounds after his ordeal.
The four men were met by twocamouflaged SEALs about fifty yards out. One took point, guiding them through the darkness, while the other fell in beside Anderson at the rear, both men watching for any sign they’d been followed.
Even before sunrise, the humidity clung like a wet blanket, thick and suffocating. The SEALs moved through it without breaking stride—they were used to worse—but Nichols struggled to keep up, his footing uneven, his strength nearly gone.
He stumbled.
Anderson caught him under the arm before he could hit the ground, hauling him upright and keeping him moving.
Three minutes after they crested the first hill, KC’s team gave the all-clear, and he relayed it to the Army support staff back at base.
He counted off thirty seconds in his head, steady and automatic, the rhythm ingrained from years of operations like this. Right on cue, the village behind them erupted under a U.S. airstrike, fire and debris ripping through the remaining enemy fighters as the rest of his team regrouped and caught up to them.
A few moments later, the extraction bird came in low and fast, the thump of the rotors growing louder until it drowned out everything else. It set down roughly half a football fieldaway, the downdraft blasting dirt and grit across the clearing as the team moved in a tight formation, heads down and weapons angled out.
They reached the helicopter at a controlled run, loading up with the two rescued soldiers while the crew leaned out, grabbing arms, vests—anything they could—to haul them inside fast.
The pilot didn’t waste time. The helicopter lifted almost as soon as the last man cleared the door, the maneuver smooth and practiced, the entire landing and takeoff taking less than ninety seconds as they pulled away from the burning village and left it behind.
KC glanced around and surveyed his team—all were present and accounted for, with no signs of injuries. The hostages were alive and secure. Lieutenant Fischer was already being tended to by the team medic and showed signs of awakening.
Thank goodness.
It had been another successful mission. He wished they all went this smoothly, but that was like praying for the sky to fall. There were no guarantees in his business. The older he got, the more that sad fact was proven.
Seated next to KC, Captain Nichols tapped him on the upper arm. "Not that I'm ungrateful for yourescuing us, but Army is still going to beat Navy at the next football game."
“I don’t think so, sir.Hoo-yah!”
The helicopter cabin erupted in a chorus ofhoo-yahs, followed by relieved laughter as everyone relaxed and settled in for the long ride back to the base. KC closed his eyes and looked forward to heading home for four weeks of well-deserved leave.
“What do you mean you can’t find her? It’s a two-bit town without a Walmart! How big can the place be?”
Leo Simmons flinched as Adrian Hernandez’s voice tore through his ear, each word sharper than the last, leaving no doubt how badly he’d screwed up. The only thing keeping him breathing was the slim chance he’d been given to fix it.
Find the woman. Recover the money. No excuses.
