Open Season by Cameron Curtis (great novels TXT) 📕

“Do you hear any explosions?”

“No.”

“Shahzad’s run out of mortar rounds,” I tell her. “I’m sure he has more with his rear elements, but it will take time to bring them forward. That’s good for Koenig. Good for us.”

The trail disappears. Washed out by rain. Maybe it was a trail only in my imagination. I slip on loose shale, and my feet go out from under me. Next thing I know, I’m on my ass, skidding down a slope. My left arm is stretched to one side for stability, my heels scrape furrows in the shale as I try to control my fall.

A cry above me. “Shit.”

Trainor must have fallen. At the base of the sharp incline is a huge boulder. I slam into it with one boot, bend my knee to take the shock.

“Look out,” Trainor calls.

I look back. She’s lost her balance. The reason I slid down in a straight line was the stability provided by my left arm. I could use my arm that way because I’m wearing gloves. Otherwise, the long slide would have flayed the flesh from my hand.

Trainor has no such protection. She doesn’t dare throw her hand out, and her momentum causes her to tumble. She’s pitched onto her side, rolling like a barrel kicked downhill. I hear her grunting with each impact. I could move out of the way. Instead, I brace myself. She slams into me like a cannonball.

I grunt.

Trainor rolls off me. “Sorry.”

“Do this too often, we’ll have to get married.”

The girl gives me an odd smile.

“Breed, have you ever considered…”

“What?”

“How does Shahzad know we didn’t all make it over that bridge?”

“He doesn’t know. Nor does he know we were making for LZ Two, or its exact location.”

Trainor smiles with satisfaction. “We have more time.”

“Maybe. Shahzad has choices to make. If he wants to get onto Lanat he only has a couple options, and one of them is to come this way.”

“Hey,” Lopez calls out. “You guys gonna sit there admiring yourselves or get out of the way so we can come down?”

Trainor and I scramble aside. Lopez and Grissom link arms and descend the slope on their asses, careful not to lose control. When they get to the bottom, Ballard follows. Like me, he uses one hand and arm as an outrigger.

“Let’s take five,” I say. “Ballard, bring the long-range radio, get me comms. Let’s raise Two-One Alpha.”

Two-One Alpha, General Anthony’s headquarters. As Trainor has pointed out, we have a little extra time. The sound of gunfire continues to echo from the direction of the bridge. It is not lost on me that Koenig, the unit commander, no longer has the ability to contact Bagram.

I lead Ballard a short distance away from the others. He takes a knee and switches on the radio.

“Two-One Alpha, this is Five-Five.”

“Go ahead, Five-Five.”

I take the handset from Ballard.

“This is Five-Five Sierra. I need to speak with your actual.” I glance over at the others. Fifteen feet away, Grissom is slumped against a boulder. Not resting against it. Slumped. He looks like he is well into his last reserves of energy. I shift my gaze toward the snows of Shafkat, blinding white in the sun.

The voice on the other end has the high, tinny quality of electronic communication. “Don’t know if he’s available, Sierra.”

“Make him available. If he misses this call, he will be pissed.”

“Wait one, Sierra.”

Ballard rolls his eyes.

The voice that comes on next is terse, authoritative. There is no question it belongs to Lieutenant General William Anthony. “This is Two-One Actual.”

“Sir, we have been in contact with Shahzad’s main body. Estimate one hundred and fifty hostiles armed with AKs, RPGs, SAM-7s, and eighty-two mike-mike mortars. Five-Five Charlie KIA. We have been separated from our actual and Five-Five Oscar. At the bridge to Lanat. We are going to bypass LZ Two and seek RV at LZ Three.”

“Say disposition Shahzad main body.”

“Bridge destroyed by mortar fire. Shahzad does not know location LZ Three, but he can guess. Will follow western route to reach Lanat.”

The general hesitates. “Better. LZ Two is not viable against SAMs. We cannot risk exfil by air without local air superiority.”

My stomach clenches.

“Two-One Actual, we can achieve superiority with fast movers.”

“Negative,” the general says. “Helos would be sitting ducks.”

“General, we must exfil by air. Principal One is wounded.”

Again, the general hesitates.

“Sierra, you must evade enemy main body. We cannot exfil without local air superiority. Keep me informed.”

“Sir, Principal One is the mission.”

“We are well aware of that, Sierra.” The general’s voice could cut steel. “Proceed as instructed.”

Trapped, I want to run. Instead, I say, “Roger that, Two-One Actual. Five-Five Sierra out.”

I return the handset to Ballard. “Shit.”

“Breed, that’s impossible.”

I look across the valley to gauge the distances involved. “Those SAMs lay an umbrella with a radius of two miles. If we get terrain features between us and the missile, or if weather conditions blind the sensor, it can be done.”

“It’s a long shot.”

“We have to try,” I say. “No way the colonel is making it out of here on foot.”

15

Deep Reconnaissance

Kagur-Ghar

Tuesday, 1600

I form up our ragged little column.

Grissom’s condition worsens with every step. Koenig and Takigawa continue to buy us time, thinning Shahzad’s ranks. The sound of firing from the bridge grows distant. Sporadic. Koenig and Takigawa are conserving ammunition. Shahzad must be sending a detachment down the east face to flank Koenig. A small group, meant to move fast.

“Five-Five Kilo.” I speak into my squad radio. “This is Sierra.”

“Go ahead, Sierra.”

“Keep an eye on the ridge above us. Shahzad might send a unit over the top.”

“Roger that, Sierra. If he does, I’ll catch them in silhouette.”

“Hold fire. You’ll see them, they might not see us.”

Ballard is good. He will watch our backs. I need to find a way off this damn mountain.

General Anthony’s reluctance to exfil by air is understandable. Peace negotiations stand at a delicate juncture. The loss of an Apache will make the papers. I imagine the general is struggling to keep