Insurgency (3 page)

Rockbridge whistled. “What type of biological weapon?”

Dratshev nodded. “As we are being open I can be candid with you. It was an airborne weapon, based on a genetically engineered strain of the Ebola virus. Highly contagious.”

Mouth dry, Rockbridge stood and opened the fridge to get a coke. He drank before speaking. “How many more of these dirty little secrets are going to suddenly appear, General?”

“Your guess is as good as mine Major. This is the only such facility I am aware of in Afghanistan. I understand that a video recording was made of the cave’s interior?”

“A video was taken, the Pentagon has it. I saw it briefly.”

“Is there be anything else on there that you can remember which may be of importance?”

The American finished his can. “Not apart from the headless corpses. What happened there?”

“I do not know for sure. We believe that the cave was attacked by the Mujahedeen, and they beheaded the men you found before triggering an IED which sealed the facility.”

“General, four of my men entered that cave. One is in a coma. Could any of them be infected?”

“Yes. The salient reason I am here is to screen your men and offer treatment if needed.”

Rockbridge felt the blood drain from his face. “General, my men have not been in isolation since the operation ended. They have been in contact with countless numbers of personnel. If they are infected we will have an epidemic on our hands.”

“Please calm yourself Major. This strain of the virus is extremely fast acting, if they were infected you would have seen signs by now. In fact my screening is probably not needed but I want to be completely certain that if any residue of the weapon remained it was not taken out of the cave by your men.”

“So what do you need?”

“I need blood samples from each man who entered the cave.”

“Done.”

“I will also need to go to the cave and asses it. I believe it is in only the neighbouring province? ”

“Yes.” Rockbridge frowned. How did the man from the GRU know so much? “But you have to navigate ‘bandit country’ to get there.”

The Russian smiled. “They shall have to navigate me.”

“So when do you want to test my men?”

“Immediately.”

***

Firebase Python was the newest such facility in Afghanistan. It was nothing more than a large area of land containing prefab buildings and tents that had been ringed by a high fortified mud wall. The wall on the outside looked like a medieval fortress but on the inside it had large concrete drums placed against it resembling sea defences. Here however it was the tide of insurgency that was being held back.

Gonzalez looked up at the stars that seemed to shine much brighter than back home. He shook his head. Afghanistan was one of the most ruggedly beautiful places on earth yet for more than thirty years it had been torn apart by war. The Afghans had fought the Russians, the Afghans had fought the Afghans and now the Afghans fought the Afghans who fought the International community. All because of religion, a religion that he did not understand. Gonzalez was a catholic like most Hispanics and wore a crucifix but more out of respect for his mother than for Mary, the Holy mother. Would Afghanistan ever change? He doubted it. The locals would find someone else to fight when the Taliban had finally been vanquished. It was a pity, a real pity. Miller, who was crazy on astrology, joined his team leader. They stood for a moment in silence, contemplating the universe.

“You two wanna hold hands?” Eaton approached with Styles and Flagon.

Gonzalez shook his head. “We should call you Brokeback.”

“Just as long as you call me.” Eaton mocked.

“Let’s eat.” Styles was starving.

“The Doc said don’t push it.” Flagon advised Styles, who to his frustration had been ordered not to leave his bed until he had been given the OK.

To the untrained the inside of Firebase Python resembled a construction site. They left the prefab box that served as the medical centre and headed for the open air canteen. It was here that the Americans and the Afghan National Army chowed down at the start and end of each day. There were food drops from Camp Leatherneck, which usually included some favourite dishes from back home, if they were lucky and if not just more packets of meals ready to eat, MREs for short. The Delta boys always sat to one side. Styles seemed to have made a full recovery but none the less Gonzalez managed to get him special treatment and a ‘blue’ steak had been acquired ‘no questions asked’. Only Gonzalez knew where it had come from and he wasn’t telling anyone about the helo pilot who had owed him a favour. Distinguished by their longer than regulation hair, stubble and relaxed manner, the Delta boys preferred to keep themselves to themselves and a safe distance from the occasional passing journalists. At the moment this consisted of a BBC film crew fronted by a blonde documentary film maker by the name of Paige Turner. Eaton had nicknamed her ‘head turner’ for reasons that were obvious to all. To one side of the canteen a few members of the Afghan National Army, who now more than ever were integrating with the ISAF forces, were taking part in an arm wrestling contest. This included a huge local who was unbeatable. Rumour had it that ‘Hakim’, as he was simply known, had been an enforcer for an Opium producer before joining up. Prior to that as a teenager he had battled the Soviets. Whether it was a hatred for the Taliban or a love of his country the Deltas did not know, but built like a pro-wrestler, the man demanded respect and instilled fear amongst the other Afghans. A US green army Lt was currently trying to best him as both Americans and Afghan’s looked on. The result was not in doubt; Uncle Sam’s finest would lose. The question was how quickly. Hakim smiled, to show a mouth of blackened teeth and effortlessly guided the American’s hand to the table top.

“I’ve heard he took on a Soviet patrol when he was twelve.” Miller stated matter of fact.

“What did he do kiss ’em into surrender?” Eaton grinned.

“Halitosis Hakim” Flagon chuckled.

“Hey, back off.” Gonzalez warned. “Anyone who managed to survive for forty plus years in this warzone gets my vote.”

Styles finished his steak, a small trickle of blood escaped from between his lips. He felt revived. “I could take him.”

Eaton nudged Styles in the ribs. “I think his kissing days are behind him, Marv.”

“You want to kiss his behind?” Flagon feigned incomprehension.

Gonzalez almost choked on his coke as he supressed a laugh. “Hey pack it in.”

“No. I’ll beat him.” Styles stood and before the rest could stop him, strode across the canteen and swopped seats with the defeated Lieutenant.

Hakim stared at the smaller American. “You want challenge Hakim? You think you beat me?”

“I know I can beat you.”

Hakim looked into the American’s eyes and his smiled vanished. He felt unnerved; he recognised something that he had not seen since his was in his teens. He felt a chill. The American clamped his hand. Hakim blinked and then the contest started. The onlookers gathered and saw what they had expected. Hakim’s hand pushed Styles’ sideways and towards the table. Styles remained impassive as Hakim started to shake with exertion as the momentum slowed and then stopped. Hakim pushed harder and nothing happened. The crowd grew as more diners realised that an upset may be on the cards. Styles made eye contact with Hakim, a red glow appearing in his eyes as he slammed the Afghan’s paw into the table. Hakim let out a yell and tried to pull his hand away. Styles let go on the second attempt.

With his left hand Hakim drew a knife from the cargo pocket of his fatigues and lunged at Styles. The blade entered Styles’ shirt on the right side of his chest. Hakim tried to draw it back for a second strike but as he did so Gonzalez was at the table grabbing the Afghan’s arm and twisting it to send the large local crashing to the floor. Immediately two Afghan’s sat on their colleague, trying to restrain him. Hakim started to shout furiously in his local dialect. A pair of Afghan National Army officers arrived and hauled Hakim away who was still screaming uncontrollably. The crowd started to disperse and got back to the important task of eating. Styles stood and removed the knife from his chest. He wobbled and Gonzalez caught him and the knife.

“Get me a medic!” Gonzalez yelled.

Styles pushed his team leader away. “I’m OK.”

Gonzalez looked at the blooded knife in disbelief; at least three inches had penetrated Styles’ flesh. “No, we gotta get you to the Doc.”

Styles turned away from the crowd so only Gonzalez could see his face, he lifted his shirt. “See, it’s nothing.”

Gonzalez shook his head “What the…” The wound was no more than a scratch.

***

Black had no idea of how far he had travelled but he had a raging thirst. He had tried to quench it by swallowing the water taken from the crazy Ukrainian’s well, but the taste had been repulsive. He had retched as the tepid liquid hit his throat. That was, he could not think properly, perhaps eight or twelve hours earlier? As he continued to navigate the narrow paths over the mountainous terrain, the searing heat of the Afghan afternoon had changed to the chill of evening. Then the bitter night had come and from somewhere inside he had found more strength in the cold, star filled night. He had walked on past dawn and now the sun at its apex threatened to chargrill him once more. His body screamed at him to stop, to take cover to, lie down on the valley floor that he had finally reached but his mind drove him on. It reasoned that every step took him nearer to the firebase, nearer salvation. On the barren plane he could see for miles all the way to the distant mountains. He did not look back, did not turn around. He kept his head down with his collar up in an attempt to shield the sun until he heard an engine. He held his hand above his eyes and squinted. On the horizon at the end of the valley a dust cloud was getting bigger, a vehicle was approaching. Black took cover. This time both mind and body were in agreement and he threw himself flat against the searing dirt. Attempting to make himself as flat as possible and banking on his digital camo fatigues for concealment, he watched as the vehicle continued to close. It was a white Toyota pick-up with what looked like a .50 cal mounted on the flatbed. One figure in a black turban shared the space with the gun. Black cursed. With two in the cab that made it three against one if things went noisy.

The Toyota neared, coming to within twenty feet of him. He was still unsighted by the enemy when he suddenly lost control of his body. A primal urge surged from his stomach to his throat manifesting itself as ‘thirst’. Black sprang to his feet and timing his attack to the millisecond ran at the Toyota as it passed. He leapt up at the flatbed and collided with the turbaned fighter. Black’s momentum carried both he and the fighter over the opposite side of the truck and barrelling into the dirt. Black’s prey had broken his neck on impact with the desert floor and was like a rag doll under him. Realising what he was doing but not knowing why or how to stop, Black sank his teeth into the sand encrusted neck of the Taliban fighter. He bit down and then felt the blood seep into his mouth as he sucked at the artery. His eyes rolled and his vision reddened. At that moment in time the heat, the exhaustion and the danger vanished. He could hear no sound, could feel no heat from the sun and most importantly did not register the first round from an AK47 tearing into him.

Black was aware of the Toyota carrying on for a few feet before it skidded to a halt. He stood and turned. Two men with Kalashnikovs ran at him. Firing on the move, they peppered the dirt around him. A second, third and then a fourth round hit Black causing him to convulse but he did not fall. Teeth bared, he sprinted directly at them. As the men closed Black fell as more rounds entered his flesh. For a moment his vision blurred, the beating of his heart was loud in his head then he rolled over and sprung to his feet as the first man came within striking distance. Black landed a fist on the man’s bearded chin which caused the fighter’s head to snap back. As the insurgent fell, Black grabbed his Kalashnikov and cut down the last remaining man at point blank range. Black steadied his breathing as he went to each man in turn and double tapped their skulls to make sure they were dead. He collected their weapons and climbed into the cab of the Toyota. There he saw several bottled of water. He grabbed one and poured the contents into his mouth. Almost immediately he retched as the water mixed with the blood of his first kill, projected out of his mouth as a crimson cloud. Black poured the rest of the water over his head and hands, washing away some of the blood and sand. It was then that he adjusted the rear-view mirror and saw that his eyes were red and his canine teeth were protruding from his mouth. As he stared in disbelief, images of the thing that had attacked him in the cave flashed before him. He shook his head and slapped his face. Heat exhaustion did strange things to people including causing hallucinations, he told himself. He screwed his eyes shut and then as he opened them saw that both eyes and teeth had returned to normal. He put the Toyota into drive and headed for Firebase Python.

TWO: Fire Base Python, Pasaband District, Ghowr Province, Afghanistan

Gonzalez glared at the Russian whose requests he had been ordered to follow. Rockbridge had told him a sanitized version of the truth, that he and his team may have been exposed to a biological agent. After Gonzalez had pushed, Rockbridge had admitted that it may be Ebola.

“General.”

“Good evening Sargent. This will not take long. All I require is a sample of blood. Once I have that Vaha will analyse it and we shall know within minutes if you are or are not infected.”

Gonzalez looked at the dark haired soldier who accompanied Dratshev. “Vaha? Strange type of name.”

“It is Chechen.” Vaha stated and turned away.

“If I could have your arm?” Dratshev held out his hand.

“So are you a scientist or something?” Gonzalez rolled up his sleeve and thrust his arm out.

“Something.” Dratshev looked at the veins pulsating. He plunged a needle into the American’s arm and drew a sample of blood. “Next.”