Insurgency (13 page)

“I still don’t get it Black, why the hell did that crazy Soviet stay all this time in Asscrackistan?”

In the relative safety of the SF modified UH-60M Helo, Black shrugged. “Maybe he had nothing to go home for.”

Ibanescu nodded. “I hear that one. What am I going to do when the Unit finishes with me, ride a friggin desk?”

“Join the Circus, what other option is there for a bearded lady?” Hicks slapped his team leader on the back.

“Yeah, you could follow me as a clown.”

The mood on the helo was tense and the banter did nothing to lessen this. The mission had been a failure; the hostages had not been recused, but they had not taken a single casualty, which given the ability of the opposition was remarkable. Black sat in the half-darkness trying to think what to say at his inevitable debrief. It would have to be the truth, but a sanitised version without any mention of vampires. He felt his head fall forward and fatigue spread throughout his body. His eyes were beginning to close.

Ibanescu shook him awake. “Hey Peter Pan, you ok? You’re not looking so good.”

Black nodded. “Fine.”

Ibanescu touched his headphones as the Black Hawk’s pilot cut through. “Roger.” He looked again at Black. “ETA in ten.”

“OK.” Black nodded and then felt his eyes close. When he opened them again he was no longer on the helo.

“Black. Black!” Ibanescu clicked his fingers in front of the Delta operative’s eyes.

Black sat up, a hammering in his head. The room started to spin and lose all colour. “I need…I need…”

Ibanescu held out a glass. “A drink.”

“Blood!” Black grabbed Ibanescu’s wrist. Shaking, he drew it towards his lips. Black’s mouth widened and he sank his teeth into the vein. His eyes rolled back in his head as the warm coppery liquid gushed into his mouth.

“Black…Black…Black!” Ibanescu screamed.

Black opened his eyes. “What? What happened?”

“We’re here.” Ibanescu handed him a thermos. “You blacked-out on the way in.”

Black took the flask but didn’t drink, his eyes momentarily lingering on the Delta team leader’s pulsating vein. “Where are we?”

“The ISAF FOB run by the Dutch, remember?” Ibanescu looked into Black’s eyes. “You sure you’re ok?”

“Just tired.” Black sat up as the door was opened and a whirlwind of sand blew into the Helo.

“OK.” Ibanescu shouted above the noise of the rotors. “Matthers wants to talk to us. We need to get to the comms shack.”

“Just follow the guys in clogs.” Hicks slapped Black on the back.

Black shook his head. “Clogs…what?”

“The Dutch, wear clogs smoke weed.” Hicks smiled. “I went there one time, fell in a canal.”

The Delta team disgorged from the Helo. The base was on high alert following the attack on Python. Ibanescu and Black were escorted to the Comms shack whilst the rest hefted their equipment over to the mess area to get some chow and re-unite with the Delta team from the second Helo. The fresh faced communications officer, who looked too young to be in uniform handed a pair of headsets each to Black and Ibanescu before discreetly moving to the other end of the room.

“Look, we do not have much time.” Matthers stated after greeting both Americans. “We have tracked the hostages to a new location. Is there anything you can tell me that may help in their rescue?”

Black had been thinking what to say and how. “The Taliban that have the hostages are wearing some sort of body armour. They only seem to be stopped by head shots.”

“I can confirm that, sir.” Ibanescu added. “But we could try using Raufoss rounds.”

“High explosive incendiary rounds?” Matthers wanted clarification.

“Yes sir.”

“Use whatever means necessary to get our people back.” Matthers paused; he didn’t have time to cross examine anything the Delta operative told him. “Black, who is the Russian that was at Python?”

“His name is Dratshev; he is a General in the GRU.”

Unseen on the other end of the line Matthers’ frowned. Nothing made sense. “What was he doing there?”

“He said he was making safe a chemical weapons cache we discovered in the cave complex. He is in-league with the Talibs sir. I think he is supplying them with weapons.”

Matthers again wanted to cross examine but just said, “Ok Black. That’s all. You will need to stay there until we can arrange a transport back to Leatherneck for you to be debriefed.”

Black felt his anger rise. “With respect Colonel, if there is going to be a rescue mission I want in.”

“I know you do but that is out of the question Black. You are to remain at the Dutch FOB. That is an order.”

“Yes sir.”

“Ok Black, stand-down. Go and get some food. Sargent Ibanescu I’m now going to send you over all the Intel we have on the location of the hostages. Work-up a rescue plan and get back to me. I want to get in there ASAP.”

“Yes sir.” Ibanescu stated.

Despondently Black handed his comms headset back to the Dutchman as he left the shack. The brilliant mid-morning sunlight felt as though it was tearing his skin as he followed his nose towards the ‘mess hall’. He stopped and stared at his hands. No they were not starting to smoke, no he was not burning. Black looked up at the sun defiantly. He was a vampire, he was Ra-Hodok, he was a ‘Sun-Walker’ he was immortal and regardless of what anyone said or did he would rest until he had rescued his team and stopped Dratshev.

Hakim sat and ate in silence. The Delta Force operatives were brave men, the best soldiers he had ever seen but even they would be in the fight of their lives against the Hamada. He could not understand the spoken words making up the conversations around him but he recognised the tone. The Americans were joking, releasing tension before the upcoming assault and washing away the horror of what they had seen at Firebase Python. Hakim wanted to be part of the attack on Ghulam Ali’s base; he wanted to exact his own revenge on the man who had continuously in one way or another sold his country and its people to the highest bidder for the last thirty years. The man was nothing more than a dog and Hakim would kill him as one. He heard cheers and then some of the Delta members started to clap. Hakim looked up and could not believe his eyes. He recognised the American walking towards him as one of the Deltas from Firebase Python. He stood as several Americans greeted the newcomer.

Black froze as he saw the huge Afghan and then shook his head. If anyone could survive a vampire attack then it would be Hakim, the undisputed Afghan National Army ‘arm wrestling champion’. After shaking a couple of Delta hands he addressed the Afghan and extended his hand. “
Salaam
.” ‘Hello’.

“
As-salaamu' alaykum
.” Hakim took the hand and shook it with a grip of iron. His face was quizzical. “
Ta sanga yee?
” ‘How are you’ he asked not expecting a long reply.

Black replied in Pashto. “I’ve had better days. How did you escape the attack?”

“I didn’t. I fought the Hamada.”

“The vampires.”

Hakim’s eyes widened “You know what they are? You have seen them?”

“Yes.” Black said. “I have seen them, I have killed them.”

“Sit.” Hakim gestured to a seat at his table. “They murdered my family many years ago. Ghulam Ali was party to that then and he is party to this now.”

“I know.”

Hakim looked into Black’s eyes and his nostrils flared. “What are you?”

“I am a vampire.” It was the first time Black had said it aloud.

Hakim’s eyes narrowed as his hand moved for his blade.

“Stop.” Black’s hand was faster and grabbed the scabbard. “More importantly I am an American soldier. I am not one of Dratshev’s men.”

“Dratshev.” The name filled Hakim’s mouth with a bitter poison. He let go of the knife but kept his eyes fixed on Black’s. “There were others.”

Suddenly Black understood. “You are the one who helped Krasnov?”

Hakim relaxed a fraction. “You know of Krasnov?”

“It was Krasnov who rescued me when the Russians attacked us. He made me into a vampire.” Black moved his hands away from the scabbard. “We share the same enemy.”

Hakim slowly reached for a bottle of water and drank before wiping his hand across his mouth. “Tell me Hamada, why are you not burning in the daylight?”

“I am a Sun-Walker. Sunlight has no effect upon me.”

“Such things exist?”

Black shrugged. “Apparently they do now.”

Hakim drank some more. “I did not know that you spoke Pashto.”

“Neither did I.”

Hakim grunted. “That is proof then. All Hamada speak my language; they understand everything in all languages. Yet I cannot explain to the Americans what they will be fighting and if I could they would not believe me.”

“How many of your men survived the attack?”

“One. And you are the only American survivor. If these Hamada are not stopped they will destroy all that is before them.”

“Then we must stop them.”

“We?”

“You and I.”

Deh Rawod District, Uruzgan Province, Afghanistan

The Afghan warlord removed a bandage from his forehead and inspected the blood. His head still spun, if he had been a doctor he would have been able to diagnose a severe concussion. He was in fact lucky to be alive. He moved his eyes to meet the cold stare of the Russian and felt his wrath boil over. “You told me my men would be invincible! Yet many died at the base and many more were killed in the cave! We had to flee here for our lives! Perhaps you are not as powerful as you claim to be, comrade?”

Dratshev remained silent, the ranting of the Afghan had no meaning; all that mattered was that the tests continued. Summoning his own Black Hawk he had been spirited away by Vaha, to be with his own Vampires. As an after-thought he had collected Ghulam Ali. Now they were once again in his original test facility.

The Afghan stood and pointed at him, accusingly. “Whose side are you on Russian?”

“You are alive, the hostages are alive; many of your men are alive. If I had not been on your side you would all be dead already.”

Ghulam Ali started to laugh and then coughed. “You really think that you are the one in charge here? You dare to threaten me, the mighty Ghulam Ali!”

“Let me crush him and then take his blood!” Petro snarled in Russian.

“That would be too easy.” Dratshev replied.

“What are you talking about? You insult me by speaking in front of me in your foreign tongue!”

“You have over-estimated your importance.” Dratshev stood and in a lightening quick action grabbed Ghulam Ali by the throat and lifted him into the air. The Afghan kicked and tore at Dratshev’s hand as his face purpled. “Shall I let you live? What purpose would you serve? Any? Let us see how these savages fight without a leader.” Abruptly Dratshev dropped the warlord onto the dirt floor.

Ghulam Ali grabbed his neck and wheezed, fighting for air.

The Vampires looked on, as though the human were an ant. Kirill put his booted foot on the man’s shoulder and pushed him further into the dirt.

Dratshev turned to his men. “The Americans will attack the compound. Are the cameras in place?”

“Da, Comrade General.” Vaha replied. “Oleg and Victor are overseeing the preparations.”

“Then we must make ready to move out. Petro, Kirill take the rest of our equipment and place it in the helicopter. Vaha send the second hostage video.”

As the Vampires carried out their orders, Ghulam Ali scrabbled backwards to the wall and gradually pulled himself upright. His face was that of a beaten dog, but inside he was livid and ready to start a fight that the Russian would not win.

“The problem with your nation has always been one of self-importance.” Dratshev stated calmly. “I stood with Alexander of Macedon when he conquered Herat and Kandahar. In the two millennia that have passed since, your people have progressed little more than rats. Then you slept with family members and donkeys, today the same. Do you have any idea who I am, or what I am Afghan? Yet it is you who call yourself mighty?”

The Afghan’s voice was raspy. “Dratshev you are so mighty that you are afraid of the sun? You are so mighty that we Afghans defeated your army? We sent you scurrying back to Mother Russia, to your mother’s skirts.”

“Your wars, your fights are of no concern to me. They and you are insignificant.” Dratshev turned his back on the Afghan. “Kirill, destroy the cave.”

Ghulam Ali moved forward. “Wait…you can’t leave me here to die! I am a Muslim, I am a warrior! I demand to die fighting!”

“Then you shall.” Dratshev left the chamber.

Kirill opened his mouth as his fangs slowly extended and his top lip drew back. He now smelt the fear from the human and it made his thirst stronger.

Ghulam Ali raised his fists. “I shall die fighting! I shall die as a warrior!”

“Indeed you will.” Kirill stated before he flew at the Afghan’s neck and sliced open his jugular.

At the Dutch FOB the two Delta teams were crammed into a pre-fabricated briefing room away from the eyes and ears of the other ISAF personnel. The base was still on alert even though eyes in the sky had not reported any insurgent activity. ISAF command was being understandably cautious.

At the front Ibanescu stood and faced the rest of the Delta Force operatives. “Listen up. The hostages have been located and we are going in. Those of you who were with me in the caves have seen what we’re up against and what effect our weapons had on them. Now is not the time for any of us to lose our nerve and start to talk about monsters, or super-humans or anything like that. We need to focus, suspend our disbelief if you will and just listen. Peter Pan and Hakim are the only two survivors of Python. Now hear what they have to say. Ok Peter Pan over to you.”

Black stood. His throat was dry and he felt dizzy. In front of him the room swam in and out of focus. He tried to compose himself before he spoke. “Normal rounds have no effect on these Talibs, they’ll knock them down but they won’t keep em down. The only way to neutralise them is to sever their heads. A head-shot with a Raufoss will do it, if you don’t have the ammo a standard .50 cal round will work. Either way these Talibs are highly dangerous, hard to kill.” Black’s voice trailed off as his vision blurred once more. He was brought back to the present by Hakim, who now stood and cleared his throat before speaking. Black translated a beat behind.