Dead Six (29 page)

“Drive!” Tailor shouted. The rear glass shattered as he opened fire through it, killing a soldier. Another gunshot roared through the van. Sarah had pulled her .45 and fired out the driver’s side window, right past Wheeler’s face. I slid the side door open and brought my carbine up even though the stock was still folded. The soldier that had been questioning us was hitting the pavement, a hole between his eyes. I pointed the carbine up at the gunner in the cupola and fired five or six times. The first shots missed but at least one went home, dropping the gunner down into his hatch in a puff of blood. I shifted to the next target, a police officer who was clumsily trying to draw his pistol. Two rounds went through his chest. The soldier next to him was trying to bring his rifle to bear, which had been slung across his back. We began to move as I popped off three more shots. I watched the soldier collapse to the ground as we sped by.

Tailor kept firing at the checkpoint through the back window, forcing the troops to keep their heads down as we made our getaway. He flipped around as I slid my door closed, noticing the blood on the inside of the windshield. “Who’s hit? Wheeler? Sarah?”

“I’m fine!” Sarah shouted.

“I’m okay,” Wheeler hissed, concentrating on the road. “Asshole shot me in the arm.”

Tailor turned back around. “Get us out of here.” He went back to shooting.

Asra had been screaming. I hadn’t heard her over the gunshots. “Shut up!” Hudson bellowed at her as he moved up between the front seats. “Let me drive,” he said. “Let Val look at that, man.”

“I’m okay!” Wheeler snapped. “I’m fine! Let me drive!”

Tailor dropped the empty magazine out of his carbine and looked over his shoulder. “Val, we—” He was cut off as the van swerved violently to the right. Tires squealed, and we were thrown around the cabin.

When I looked back to the front of the van, Sarah was reaching over, holding the steering wheel. Wheeler was slumped forward and wasn’t moving. Just like that, he was gone.

It took us over an hour to get to the safe house, even though it wasn’t all that far from the port. The Zoob had already been in a heightened state of alert because of our exploits and the subsequent spike in terrorist attacks. A shootout at the docks and another at a police checkpoint had put the city on lockdown. We had to go very far out of our way to avoid more checkpoints.

Two vehicles were waiting for us at the safe house. One of them was driven by two of Colonel Hunter’s security men. They grabbed Asra Elnadi and drove off with her before we even got in the door. The other, a van, was driven by Hal and one of the other medics.

Other than some cuts and bruises, I was unscathed. The same went for Tailor, Hudson, and Sarah. Wheeler was dead. The bullet had struck him in the bicep, traveled through his arm, and entered his chest through the armpit opening of his armor vest. He hadn’t even known that he was dying. There was nothing we could have done for him. My shirt was sticky with his drying blood.

After the four of us had been seen by the medics, we assembled outside by the garage. Hal backed his van up to the open garage door and gave us a body bag. Together, and in silence, Hudson, Tailor, and I stripped Wheeler of his equipment. When that was done, Tailor and I stood back while Hudson quietly said a few words to his old friend. We then carried Wheeler’s body to the medics’ van. It was the closest thing the affable former army paratrooper would ever get to a proper funeral.

“Tailor?” Hal said, approaching us after a while. “Hunter wants you to come back for debrief.”

“What?” Tailor said, sounding agitated. “We had kind of a bad night.”

“I know, but he wants you to come back. Valentine, McAllister, he said there’d be a car for you two sometime tomorrow.”

Sarah seemed suddenly uncomfortable. “Wait a minute. Don’t they need me to debrief Asra?”

“You’re not the only one that can speak Arabic, you know. Besides, you’re exhausted. You’re in no shape to do any work tonight. Tailor just has to give a report. Then he can go to bed.”

“Why not just bring us all back?” Hudson asked. He hadn’t spoken in a while. “They need someone to stay here and watch the house or something?”

“Well, there’s only one extra seat in the front of the van,” Hal said. “And . . .” he hesitated. “I didn’t figure anyone would want to ride in the back with Wheeler.”

“I will,” Hudson said. “It’s no problem.”

“You sure, man?” Tailor asked.

“Yep,” Hudson said. “Wheeler and me, we zipped six of our soldiers into body bags last time we were deployed. We carried them away. Stayed with them for as long as we could. I’ll ride with him one last time. I owe him that much. He never would’ve come over here if it wasn’t for me.”

“Okay,” Hal said quietly. “We need to get going now.”

“There any food in this place?” I asked. Hal just shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just need to get some sleep.”

“Take it easy, bro,” Tailor said as he climbed into the van. It disappeared through the gate, leaving Sarah and me standing alone under the stars. We had the big house all to ourselves.
Awkward . . .

“Mike, I’m sorry about Wheeler,” she said as we went inside. “Are you okay?”

“I just need to take a shower.”

“Me, too,” she said. Fortunately, the big house had two bathrooms, so it wasn’t an issue. The medics had brought fresh clothes for us to the safe house, so we wouldn’t have to run around in blood-stained khakis for the rest of the night.

After my shower, all I wanted was to get some sleep, but sleep just wouldn’t come. The longer I lay there, the madder I got that I couldn’t sleep. I rolled over, then rolled over again. I was too hot, so I cranked up the air conditioner. Then I was too cold. Then my foot itched. Then I had to go to the bathroom. Then . . .

“Fuck!” I snarled, throwing my pillow across the room. “Goddamn
it!” I stood up and began to pace around in the darkness. The clock on the nightstand said 4:45 and I was still awake. I stormed across the room, picked up the clock, yanked the cord out of the socket, and threw it against the wall. It smashed into pieces of broken plastic.

I stood there, breathing heavily, ridiculously mad but unsure of what I was mad at. I just wanted to go to sleep and forget things for a while.

Wheeler was dead. Yesterday he was there, today he was gone, just like that. I had no one to talk to, nothing to distract me, and no alcohol to numb me. All I could do was sit there, awake when I should be sleeping, thinking about how I’d watched my friend die and what I could have done differently. It was
killing
me.

There was a quiet knock on my door. It was Sarah. “Mike, are you okay?” she asked. Her voice was slightly raspy, like she’d been crying.

“Yeah, I’m . . . yeah . . .” I said, even though I was anything but okay. Sarah opened the door a little bit and peeked in at me.

“Can I come in?”

I sighed. “Sure,” I said and sat down on the bed. I turned on the stupid-looking lamp that sat on the nightstand. Sarah was wearing the same short shorts and T-shirt she’d been wearing the first time she came into my room, our first night in-country. It was strange, but she looked a little older now.

“You broke your clock,” she noted. “And you look like hell.” I became suddenly self-conscious and looked around for my T-shirt.

“It’s been a bad night.”

“I know,” Sarah said. She crossed the room and sat down next to me. “I’ve been in my room crying for an hour.”

“Are
you
okay?” I asked, looking over at her.

“I don’t know why I was crying,” she said. “I don’t feel anything. I didn’t feel anything when Wheeler died. I didn’t feel anything when I killed that solder. I didn’t feel . . .” Tears welled up in Sarah’s eyes, and her hands started to shake. “I didn’t feel anything at all.”

“That’s normal,” I said. “It’s adrenaline. You’re going through adrenaline dump right now. Makes you crazy.”

“How do you
do
this?” she asked, wiping her eyes. “I saw you. You shot those three guys dead like it was nothing. It took like four seconds. I mean, oh my God, how do you do it?”

I shrugged. “It’s what I do. It’s all that I do, I guess. I try not to think about it.”

“I just want to go home,” Sarah said, sounding like she couldn’t cry anymore. “I hate this country.”

Me, too.
“But, hey, we’re alive. Right now that counts for a lot.”

“Thank you,” she said. Sarah then yawned widely.

“You should get some rest,” I suggested. “You’re exhausted. I am too.”

“I know,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “I just don’t want to be alone right now. This big house is too quiet.” Sarah looked down at her lap for a moment, then back up at me. “Is it alright if I sleep in here?”

“What?” I said, surprised. “I mean . . . sure. If you want.”

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” she said more sternly. “I just don’t want to be by myself. Okay?”

“It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“I’m sure,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “Lay down.” Sarah thanked me again, gave me a small kiss on the cheek, and slid under the covers on the right side of the bed. I turned the lamp back off and laid my head on the pillow. This time sleep quickly overtook me.

It was daylight out when I awoke. My clock was still smashed on the floor, so I wasn’t sure what time it was. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes as the events of the night before came back to me. I relived, in my mind, watching Wheeler die, and I quietly swore to myself.

There are always doubts when a teammate dies. You question yourself, and your confidence is shattered.
Did I do everything I could? Was there any way it could have been avoided? Did something I do cause him to get killed?
The hardest thing to do after losing one of your own is to go back into combat again, burdened with the knowledge that your surviving teammates are all counting on you. I’ve known guys that could never get over that hurdle, and I’ve seen it end careers.

In my case, that wasn’t really an option. There was nothing I’d have liked more than to simply quit and go home, but it seemed like the only way to go home early was in a body bag.

It was then that I noticed something warm and soft pressed against me. Sarah, still asleep, had wrapped her arm and one leg around me. She quietly slept, her face a few inches from my right ear, her auburn hair splashed across the pillow.

God, she’s beautiful.
Sarah opened her eyes then, as if my thinking about her woke her up.

“Hey,” I said, looking into her eyes.

“Hey, you,” she replied. “You make a good pillow.”

“I’m glad you think so. I can’t feel my right arm.”

“I’m sorry,” Sarah said with a little smile. “You want me to move?”

“Not really,” I confessed. “This is . . . nice. A nice way to wake up.”

Sarah agreed. “Yeah,” she said, squeezing me a bit tighter. “So tell me. Why is it every time you almost get your ass shot off you end up in bed with me?”

I had no idea how to answer that. I just looked at her, mouth slightly open, and she giggled. “Um . . .”

“Yes?” she asked.

“Because you’re the Queen of Crazy Town?” I suggested tentatively.

Sarah gently pushed my face away and laughed. “I can see where I gave you that impression. What time is it, anyway?”

I shrugged. “My clock is still broken.”

“Well . . . they’ll call before they send a car,” Sarah said. “We could be here all day. They’re trying to limit traffic outside the compound during daylight hours or when the roads are busy. You know, because of the checkpoints.” Sarah trailed off and exhaled heavily.

“Listen,” I said. “You did good out there. You weren’t trained for that kind of job, but you held it together. You did what you had to do. No hesitation, nothing. I’m impressed.” I really was.

“You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”

“I’m not,” I said sternly. “Your quick thinking is probably the reason more of us didn’t get killed. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. She kissed me sweetly.

Smiling, I turned toward her a little and gently brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face. She closed her eyes as I caressed her cheek. Her right hand slid up to my shoulder, pulling me closer to her. I scootched over a bit and kissed her, deeply. She made a very soft, pleasurable sigh and ran her fingers through my buzzed hair.

I rolled onto my back, pulling Sarah with me. Straddling me, she only stopped kissing me for a moment and pulled her shirt off over her head. She leaned forward again, kissing me passionately, her hair tickling my face and my neck.

Sarah and I made love for a long time, and, for a while, I was able to stop thinking about all the things that were bothering me. Like how horrible it was that we were fooling around like a couple of high-school kids on prom night just hours after we watched one of my guys bleed to death. Or how I treated her the night I got drunk. Or what was going to happen between us after this. However it played out, it was going to be
complicated
.

At that moment, though, with her in my arms, I didn’t worry about any of that. I was
alive
, goddamn it, and so was she. For the time being, that was all that mattered.

VALENTINE

Fort Saradia National Historical Site

April 18

1230

I stepped into my room and closed the door behind me, looking down at the sheet of paper in my hand. Hunter had given it to me after Sarah and I returned from Safe House 5.

It was a BOLO, or “be on the lookout” alert, passed down from Gordon Willis. The photocopy was about a young woman named Jillian Del Toro. She had been an intern at the US Embassy in Zubara, on loan to the State Department from the Department of Agriculture. She was a low-level employee but apparently had access to one James Fiore, the assistant ambassador. Fiore had been killed by the enemy after the US Embassy was evacuated. According to the dossier I’d been given, Jill Del Toro was apparently selling embassy secrets to General Al Sabah’s intelligence people and had gotten Fiore killed.

Del Toro was still at large. She wasn’t considered dangerous, but she was a traitor, and Gordon wanted her brought in, dead or alive.