Escape The 1st Omnibus: WTF Books 1-3 (46 page)

“What happened to them?”

“They were taken away by State Department vehicles,” Gunner said, shaking his head. He reached into his pocket for another cigarette. “The jet was refueled and rushed me back to Qatar for another pickup. City was dark when we got there; airport was empty. We damn near crash landed. Runway lights were all off and we clipped a utility vehicle on the ground.

“My team and I left the pilots on the ground. They were going to try and secure transportation. We grabbed a vehicle and headed to the embassy over land. It was poor decision-making on my part. We only made it two blocks. We fought our way to an apartment roof and held up for three days. Never heard from the pilots again. On the fourth day, a Chinook picked up my distress beacon and got us out of there. We sat at the embassy for two more days before the admiral finally pulled us out.

“If you are planning to go back to the States because you think it’s better than this … think again. We all have our reasons for going back. Safety won’t be one of them.”

Sean slapped Gunner on the back. “Understood, Gunner; that just came out wrong. I appreciate the plans you have laid out. Let me track down my Marines. We’ll be ready to roll with you when we get the go.”

“Brief them on the raid mission only, don’t say shit else. No one outside of us knows the real intentions of tomorrow’s mission. We’ll let them make that choice on the ground. After the CH-53 drops us in the city, we’ll wire up a perimeter. If they decide to not go back with us, the birds will be back to take them home … Long after we are gone,” Gunner said with a grin.

“Don’t worry, Gunner; they’ll want to go with us. We’ve been through a lot,” Brad said.

The trio found the Marines late that night, gathered outside of the chow tents. Chelsea said her group leader had already informed them about the raid. Sean didn’t elaborate on the mission or why they were selected to join Charlie Group, just that he wanted experienced Marines on his raid, people that he could trust, and not a bunch of broke ass sailors with no boots-on-ground time. The Marines were excited to be back working with Sean again.

Sean gave them a detailed packing list for the mission and left them. Gunner had warned him again about spending a lot of time with people outside of the group. The camp’s cohesiveness had broken down, and rumors spread fast. They didn’t want anyone getting suspicions about the real intentions of the raid. The trio went back to tent six and did their own pre-combat checks and inspected their equipment.

Brad found that most of his gear was still present. After a good washing, he reverted back to his Army issue MultiCam uniform and stuffed the Navy crap back into his sea bag. He did keep the boots though; his old ones had a lot of miles on them and were starting to fall apart. The only things he noticed missing were his scout binoculars and most of his spare magazines for the M4.

Sean was pissed when he discovered the satellite phone was gone along with the batteries. Even though it had been useless to them for a while, they had gone through a lot of trouble to get it, and he wasn’t happy to see it missing. Sean and Brooks decided to stay in their familiar Navy uniforms, not because they liked them, but because the civilian gear they had been wearing was a mess and was ripping at the seams.

Gunner took them to the supply building, one of the few hardened structures on the camp. Each of the trio were issued a new fighting knife, which Brad thought was of far less quality than the karambit he already carried. He figured he would pass the new one off to a Marine.

They were also given a small pry bar and a tactical tomahawk, along with a bundle of batteries, more spare magazines, and some new gloves. Each of them was given a Kevlar shirt which the supply petty officer called a bite shirt. He explained the shirt was originally designed when working with sharpened sheet metal on aircraft, but had also proven useful in close combat with primals.

Gunner explained to them that there were not many recon members in the camp and, because of the shortage of gun fighters, they had been stuck doing most of the heavy lifting. This niche status earned them a nice cache of weapons and equipment. The recon groups received better food at chow and they had more freedom of movement on the island.

Another benefit of being on a recon team was that you did not have to participate in the daily camp duties. No working in the mess hall, filling sand bags, or burning shit. Still though, one or two days a week you were expected to go into the infected cities and face off against the primals. When the mission was over, a twenty-four hour quarantine would be waiting for you.

The admiral had tried to give his war fighters the best to keep them happy. The security of the camp was held together by the compliance of the recon groups. One thing the admiral didn’t understand was that the same thing that gave them the courage to run down primals, was also what burned at them to return home to their country and their families, even if it meant certain death.

Morning came hot and fast to the island. Brad woke early, since it was impossible to sleep under the intensity of the sun. He rose from his cot and followed the others to the showers and latrine. He had briefly met the members of Charlie Group the previous night. It had been late though, and there were no lights in the tent, so introductions were brief.

Charlie Group was made up almost entirely of combat arms soldiers, sailors and Marines. There were seven of them, including Gunner. Most of them had worked together for weeks, since the founding of the island camp. Gunner had joined the group early, and as the senior member had become their leader. He was responsible for the recruiting and training of the members as well as the planning of missions. The rest of Charlie Group referred to Gunner as ‘The Godfather’, which somehow had broken down to just ‘Pops’.

The only female in the group and exclusive non-combat arms member was Lieutenant Kelli Davis. She had been a competitive shooting champion in high school, and ranked top junior pistol shot in her state for three years. It was said her skills with a rifle were even better. She was raised a country girl, hard as nails, and could hunt and track with the best of them.

Gunner sent a request through the chain of command for Kelli to join Charlie Group. They resisted at first, but Gunner was a hell of a salesman and eventually they came around. He was in need of a sniper and she would fit the position. The guys in charge signed off on the request, but that’s not why he’d recruited her. She was a naval aviator and had trained on large cargo aircraft. Charlie Group had needed a pilot, and they got one.

The Villegas brothers were from Southern California. Dark, lean, and mean Marine Corps reservists doing a nine-month tour in Kuwait during the fall, they had managed to escape deep into the desert during the first days. They had survived for weeks on their own before being spotted by a low-flying observation plane. Now they were designated rifleman in Charlie Group. Quiet, tough, and reliable was how they were described.

The last three members of Charlie Group were plucked from the top of a Bradley fighting vehicle in the dunes of Saudi Arabia. Sergeant Hahn, Corporal Parker, and Specialist Theo had been cavalry scouts assigned to an armored cavalry regiment. The scouts had fought a rolling retreat all the way from central Iraq. Tip of the spear. Lead vehicles in a massive convoy which had been rolling south towards the southern border. During an intense late night engagement, a fuel vehicle had bogged down on a bridge. They had pulled into a defensive perimeter and called the recovery vehicles forward, fighting wave after wave as the combat engineers attempted to clear the route. A lot of people and ammunition were lost in the failed effort. The more the soldiers fought, the more primals were attracted in. Vehicle crews ran out of ammunition and a means to fight back, then their fuel tanks had run dry. In the early morning hours, crews on the south side of the bridge were ordered by the officer in charge to continue the withdrawal and move towards the Saudi border, while vehicles to the north would search for a new route. Vehicles broke out of the defensive formations and scrambled to escape the primal mobs. Hahn’s Bradley was down to a driver and gunner; he had lost all of his dismounts early in the battle. Hahn commanded his vehicle south, fighting his way through the desert. In the chaos, they became separated from the rest. Radios were stormed with panicked traffic. Without the support of the convoy, their vehicle ran out of fuel and they became stranded and alone, lost in the Saudi desert. Sergeant Hahn and his men were rescued two days later.

The back portion of tent six contained a makeshift ready room: a small table surrounded by cobbled-together benches. When Brad filed into the tent, he found most of Charlie Group already assembled in the briefing area. He was surprised to see Chelsea, Nelson, and Craig occupying a bench near the back of the space. Brooks had followed in behind Brad, and stood next to a pole that supported the weight of the tent.

Sean and Gunner entered the room through a side door, causing everyone to suddenly cease conversations and take their seats. Gunner took a seat near the table and Sean found a seat near him. Even though they all shared a common goal in getting back to the States, Gunner had decided early on that he would keep everyone in the dark until they reached the drop zone. Operational security had to be tight for everything to succeed.

Gunner pulled a sheet off the table, uncovering a map underneath. “Hope everyone is rested up, we have a big op planned for tomorrow. I gather everyone has met the new members of Charlie Group. These guys have a lot of experience on the ground with screamers; experience we can use. Also, tomorrow’s mission will be augmented with the Marines.

“They are mechanics and electricians. We are tasked with trying to locate and recover working generators. The wrench turners will help, so let’s not get them killed right off.”

Hahn raised his hand and gave Gunner a cold stare, “Excuse me Gunner, but how in the hell are we supposed to kill screamers while we are babysitting these kids?”

“Fair enough question, Hahn. We’ll split into two, six-man teams for tomorrow. You six will run the same as always, as the Alpha element. Chief Rogers will take his people and the techs as Bravo element. I’ll stay in command.”

Gunner pointed to a spot on the map overlay.”We’re going to drop in on the roof of this large office structure. From there, we’ll run a standard perimeter and observation post, before we branch out on our search recons. We’ll have approximately one hundred and eighty minutes on the ground. Pickup will be on the same rooftop.”

Hahn again raised his hand. “Pops, what’s the alternate rally and pickup point in case things go bad?”

“So glad you asked that, Sergeant Hahn,” Gunner said, as he used his grease marker to circle a section on the far corner of the map. “This is plan B, it’s an airport. If the shit hits the fan, we will roll hard to the alternate pickup point.”

“Pops, that’s damn near five clicks through open terrain! One hell of a hump if we’re in active retreat,” Hahn said.

“True story; thank you for recognizing the risk for us. I want all of you to memorize this map and possible routes to plan B. Sergeant Hahn makes a good point about the dangers, so let’s take double ammo and rations tomorrow just in case,” Gunner said to the moans of the others.

“Damn Pops, double ammo and rations? That’s a lot of gear to hump,” the elder Villegas, Daniel, protested.

The younger Villegas, Joey, let out a deep laugh, “Shoot, big brother, if it’s too much for your old ass, I’ll carry your shit for you.”

“Yo shut up man, I’ll carry my own shit!” Daniel snapped back.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough, get your stuff together. Everyone on the road tomorrow at zero three. That is all.” Gunner said.

The room fell to silence as Gunner and Sean walked out of the tent. The rest of the members gathered around the table, taking notes and drawing sketches of the objective. Brad decided to avoid the crowd and went outside to grab some fresh air. He went beyond the tents and walked the road toward the large camp.

Sensing he was being followed, he turned back and saw Chelsea coming up behind him. He stopped to wait up for her. “Can I join you, Sergeant Thompson?” she asked with humor in her voice.

“You may, Corporal Swanson,” he answered as they continued to walk the road.

“So Brad, what the hell are we doing here? Do you know what is going on?” Chelsea asked.

Brad stopped and looked behind him before answering her. “Chelsea, just relax and go with things. We just got here. You’ll get adjusted to the routine.”

“I don’t care; I didn’t sign up to be making garbage runs into cities. This isn’t my job. I just want to get home. I don’t want to adjust, Brad.”

“Everyone wants to get home, but for now this is the hand we have been dealt. Get your people together. Inspect their gear and make sure they are ready for tomorrow’s mission.”

“I’m not interested in the mission, can’t they find someone else?”

“What did you tell me back on the tower? You said don’t quit. So suck it up, Marine. I don’t want to hear this bullshit out of you again. Do you understand?” Brad said, his frustration growing. Not only with her attitude, but because he couldn’t tell her the true objectives of the mission.

“Yes Sergeant! Understood,” Chelsea said before she turned to walk away, but not before Brad saw the hurt in her expression.

The Sea Stallion’s blades were already turning at high speed. The roar of the engines and the wash of dust made communication impossible. Gunner was just outside the radius of the large rotor blades, speaking to the helicopter’s crew chief. Then he ran back to the edge of the road where the rest of Charlie Group had assembled, and pulled Sergeant Hahn and Sean off to the side.

Everyone was standing nervously over their gear of overstuffed rucksacks and long rifles, waiting for instructions. Each of them was dressed in their newly-acquired bite shirts under their heavy body armor. Brad and the other three soldiers were in MultiCam while the rest wore the tan, Navy issue uniforms. Brad looked to Chelsea to try and get her attention; she saw his stare and looked away.