Only the Dead Live Forever (11 page)

Brad felt
suddenly peaceful; he had no strength to run, his legs were too heavy. Although
Sean was slapping him, he couldn’t feel the pain. His body was numb. He closed
his eyes. When he opened them again he could see the bright orange flames of
the fire, the heat warming his body. He closed them again and felt the world
spin around him.

When he forced
his eyes open he was falling, no, hanging over the water. He could see the boat
below him. Nelson was on the deck holding a rope; his life line. Brad closed
his eyes again, and this time he didn’t try to open them.

 He felt himself
free falling then stop abruptly, the rope cutting in to his waist. Someone
unclipped him from the line and laid him out on the deck. He felt himself being
dragged back and propped against what he thought was the bridge.

Water hit his
face and he willed his eyes open. He watched as Sean slid down the rope and hit
the deck. The top of the platform was an inferno. The second deck was igniting
and slowly starting to catch fire as the flames spread down. Brad rolled to his
stomach and tried to stand but fell.

Chelsea hurried
to his side. “Relax! Don’t move.”

Brad’s body
ached, but he forced himself into a sitting position and rested against the
bridge. He looked up again and focused on the far away dock. The dock was empty
now; the mob had left long ago to attack the stairway. Brooks revved the
engines and the boat began to back away as Brad looked at the platform and
tried to focus. He was there, the Alpha leader; he was standing at the edge of
the dock with the platform burning all around him. They locked eyes just as the
rest of the rig was swallowed in flames.

19.

Brad came to in
a dark space.
Where the hell am I?
He started to panic and tried to sit
up, hitting his head on the ceiling above him. Then he heard the hum of the
diesel engines. He slowly began to remember the fight, and lying on the deck of
the boat. Brad reached for a flashlight in his hip pocket.
What the … Where
are my clothes?

Brad felt his
body; he was dressed in nothing but his boxers and a T-shirt. He rolled to the
side and reached along the floor. He found his bag and rifled through the front
pockets, finding what he was searching for. He pulled the surefire flashlight
from the pack’s pocket and clicked it on.

He shone the
light around the space. As he suspected, he was in the berthing compartment, or
the barracks of the boat as he liked to think of it. Brad panned the light
around the space. He saw Tony and Nelson sleeping on racks across from him.
Looking farther down the compartment past a few racks filled with supplies, he
saw Chelsea.

Brad rolled out
of the bunk and put his feet on the floor. He felt groggy, but couldn’t find
any obvious injuries outside of a bad headache and a burning face. Brad ducked
and stood in the center of the compartment. He found his boots next to the bag
and slipped them on, then used the light to lead him out of the bow and stepped
up the ladder to the bridge.

He opened the
hatch and walked onto the bridge, where he found Brooks sitting in a large
chair behind the steering controls. Sean was in a corner with a cup of coffee
in his hand. He looked up, saw Brad, and smiled. “How ya feeling buddy?” he
asked.

“Like shit; I
have a killer headache and my face feels sunburned,” Brad answered.

“You probably
have a concussion, and you got some decent flash burns to your face, but you’ll
live,” Brooks said.

Brad walked
through the bridge and took an empty seat. “How long was I out?” he asked.

Sean poured Brad
a cup of coffee and walked across the bridge to hand it to him. “About four
hours. We should be at the island in another twelve.”

“What about the
air crew?” Brad asked.

“They are
probably on the ground about now.”

“What! Alone and
in the dark?” Brad said, a worried look on his face.

“Well, we didn’t
have much of a choice with the platform gone and all. They flew ahead. But they
won’t be landing at the airfield. They are going to go in from an isolated
corner of the island and try to find a place to hold up.”

“Good, I was
worried. Do we have comms with them?” Brad asked.

“We did, but
they are out of range now. When we get closer I’ll call for them. Everything is
under control, Brad,” Sean said.

Brad stood from
the chair with the coffee in his hand. “Is it safe to go outside?”

“Yeah, have at
it; just stay on the back deck. As a matter of fact, I’ll join you,” Sean said.

Sean walked to
the compartment door and opened it, letting in the cool night air. He turned,
walked toward the back deck, and sat his coffee cup atop one of the pallets of
ammo. Brad followed him and did the same thing, then looked up to marvel at the
bright moon and sky full of stars.

“It’s amazing
isn’t it? Nothing better than a star-filled sky when you’re far out to sea,”
Sean said.

“It’s something
else. At least that’s one thing that hasn’t changed.”

“You feel that,
Brad?” Sean asked him.

“Feel what?”

“That.” Sean
paused. “The feeling of security. No primals out here, buddy; those damn things
can’t swim. We’re safe at sea.”

“What happened
on the platform seemed like a deliberate attack. They actually opened the purge
valves?” Brad asked him.

“Brad, if you
would have told me a week ago they were capable of planning, I would have said
you were full of shit. But the evidence is stacking up. I don’t know what to
think of it. For starters, we obviously need to step up our game.”

“I saw the Alpha
on the dock as we pulled away; he was staring right at me.”

“What? I don’t
know, man; you were pretty far out of it when we pulled out. Either way though,
that goose is cooked.”

“For sure, we
can’t afford to lose anyone else.” Brad shook his head and looked down at his
feet. “Chief, I think I’m going to try and grab a few more z’s. If you or
Brooks need me to relieve you, wake me up.”

“Okay buddy, get
some rest,” Sean said.

Brad got to his
feet and made his way back inside the bridge. He placed his coffee cup on the
console in front of Brooks and repeated his offer to give him a break. Brooks
said he was good to go, and that Brad should try to relax a bit after the fall
he took. Brad nodded and made his way back into the berthing compartment.

He shined the
light around the space and found everyone still sleeping soundly. Brad kicked
off his boots and lay back down on his tiny bunk. He only had maybe a foot of
space as the top bunk filled with supplies hung just above his chest, but it
still beat sleeping on the ground. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep but
his mind wandered to Ryan, Ben, and Wilson. Brad rolled to the side and tried
to think of happier days and let the engine’s hum sing him to sleep.

Brad woke to the
calming sounds of water slapping the side of the hull as he slowly opened his
eyes. The compartment had heated up quite a bit, and there was light coming
down from the ladder well. Brad got to his feet and dug through his bag until
he found a clean uniform. He elected to leave the heavy jacket off and instead
just wore the T-shirt. Brad climbed up the stairs and saw Tony sitting at the
controls.

“Hey Brad, how
are you this morning?” Tony asked.

“I’m good Tony,
where are we?”

Tony pointed off
the port side, far in the distance. “We’re anchored just off the island while
they peek around a bit.” Tony changed his gaze toward the front of the ship.

Brad looked and
could see the hazy outline of the island about a mile out. On the bow of the
boat, he could see Brooks and Sean lying in the prone position behind their
heavy rifles and spotting scopes. Brad nodded and thanked Tony. Seeing the
coffee was still on, he poured himself a cup, then walked out toward the back
deck. He found Nelson and Chelsea sitting on some benches eating a cold MRE
breakfast.

“Morning,
Sergeant. Hey, you want my pound cake? Stuff constipates me something fierce,”
Nelson said to Brad while holding up a small tan package.

“Well damn,
Nelson, how could anyone pass it up with that sales pitch?” Brad said, smiling
and taking the package from Nelson.

“How’s your
head, Brad?” Chelsea asked.

“It’s fine. I
think I just got my bell rung when the blast took me off my feet. I appreciate
you all taking care of me last night,” Brad answered as he peeled open the cake
and dunked it into his coffee.

They heard the
clop of boots and the rattle of equipment as the SEALs moved up behind them.
Sean explained that there was no movement across the water on the island’s
pier. A few broken ships were tied up, apparently battered by the same cyclone
that had hit them the week prior. Everything appeared to be good and quiet, at
least out in the open.

“Brad, you up
for a recon? We’re looking to take the inflatable in close, possibly to the
beach. We will do some quick sneak and peek. If it’s all clear, Tony can bring
in the boat,” Sean said.

“I’m up for it.
Have you heard from the air crew?”

“Talked to them
about thirty minutes ago; they’re tucked in to some high terrain south of the
airfield, and so far, they haven’t seen anything. Bradley said it’s pretty
barren from what they can see.”

“Sounds like a
good time. Give me a few minutes to suit up and I’ll be ready to go.”

20.

When Brad
climbed back onto the deck, they already had the rigid inflatable sitting in
the water with the front pulled up onto the dive deck. Brooks tossed Brad a
small self-inflating life vest. “Make sure you wear your floaties. I don’t
wanna have to go pullin’ your ass out of the drink,” Brooks said with a smile.

Brad took the
device and strapped it over his gear. He didn’t even try to pretend like he
knew how it worked, so Brooks gave him a quick rundown on the mechanics of it.
Basically, if he fell out of the raft, it would quickly fill with air from
compressed cartridges. “Nice to have when you are wearing seventy pounds of
gear in a small rubber boat trying to break the surf,” Brooks halfheartedly
joked.

Sean positioned
Brad in the front of the raft and took a position opposite him, while Brooks
had the helm. The engine turned over easily and they slowly moved away from the
boat’s dive deck to head toward the shore. Sean got on the small radio and
checked in with the boat and the Black Hawk crew. If they got into trouble, the
Black Hawk could still provide air cover.

The water was
calm and the raft easily cut through the short swells. Brad looked up at the
sun, thinking it would be a hot one today. They were just off the coast of Oman
and he knew this part of the world could easily hit over a hundred degrees in
the daytime. For now it was nice and cool, and the movement of the boat was
creating a pleasant ocean breeze. In another time and place, this would have
been a relaxing day at the beach.

As the small
raft slid through the water, they began to make out the harbor ahead of them.
There were a number of docks farther south, and it appeared to be a civilian
shipping port; judging by the ferry tied up and some larger shipping vessels.
To the north, and closer to the air base, sat one long pier. A military vessel
was positioned at the end of it. A large sandy cove was cut into the beach,
with the mouth being next to the military pier.

Brooks turned
the craft slightly and headed towards the cove. As the raft got closer, they
could see that the military ship was in a state of disrepair; maybe it had even
been salvaged. There were holes cut into the hull; the ship was covered in rust
and flaking paint. Brooks slowly cruised the raft past it and turned into the
mouth of the cove. The water flattened out and he cut the engine, allowing them
to drift and listen for sounds of company.

The boat glided
forward and hit the sand with a soft grinding sound. They sat quietly,
listening to sea gulls squawk and the ocean waves lapping against the beach.
Quickly dismounting the boat, Brad helped grab the handles as they dragged it
ashore and tucked it next to a berm. Sean and Brooks then moved toward a small
rise in the sand and dropped into the prone position. Brad followed their
movements, staying just a step behind them.

Sean had his
binoculars out and was panning them along the beach and surrounding areas. Just
over the berm, they could make out a small Navy shipyard of sorts. There were
some heavy lift vehicles, fuel trucks, and several large wet storage
containers. The pier next to them also held vehicles and a few small buildings.
Sean slowly got to his knees and pointed to the end of the pier. Brooks nodded
and stepped off briskly in a light trot.

They moved
parallel to the beach, using the berm as cover to conceal them from the
shipyard. Once Brooks reached the pier, Sean and Brad moved in behind him. The
pier rose about ten feet above the water and was made entirely of stone and
earth, with the surface being poured concrete. Brooks moved towards the top of
it and took up a concealed position while Sean and Brad ran past him and
farther up the pier.

They reached the
first vehicle: a large fuel truck. The truck’s hoses were dragged out of the
back and were hanging over the side of the pier. Brad moved around the truck
and saw bullet holes in the windshield. The warm fuzzy feelings were starting
to fade.

“Looks like
someone topped off here and got the hell out of Dodge fast,” Sean said.

“See those
bullet holes?” Brad asked.

“Yup, maybe it
was looters stealing fuel. Guards must have shot at them,” Brooks said, slowly
walking over.

“Looters, ha,
you mean just like us?” Brad said.

“Yup, something
like that,” Brooks said as he inspected the truck. “This truck’s tank is dry.
Chief, you want to clear the entire pier or move inland?”

“Let’s call up
the boat; they can anchor in the cove near the raft while we search for fuel.
That should help keep them hidden,” Sean answered.

Sean called Tony
on the radio and gave him direction to the cove. Soon they saw the boat’s
profile as it drew closer to the shore. Tony was moving slowly to keep the boat
as quiet as possible. It moved around the pier and into the cove before Tony
cut the engines. Nelson and Swanson were out on deck, dropping anchor lines and
tying them off.

From Brad’s
angle, he was amazed by the image of the attack boat. He’d thought it looked
large before, but it really was intimidating as well, with its large, sharp
lines and grey, tiger-striped pattern. With the large cannon on the bow and the
machine guns on the deck, it was a lot to take in. Too bad the primals couldn’t
be scared off.

Sean conversed
with Tony over the radio, letting him know they would be searching for fuel,
and planned to be back within the hour. This quick field trip was only to find
fuel. The boat was already well provisioned, but they would need diesel for the
boat and JP-8 for the Black Hawk to make it to Socotra Island.

Brooks led the
way, with Sean and Brad walking behind him. It felt good to be off of the
platform and once again on solid ground. The pier was connected to a road that
led farther inland, but also split off toward a gated compound. A sign in both
Arabic and English indicated it was the
tank farm. 
They followed the
road toward the high fences and found a gate.

The gates were
cracked open, and destroyed padlocks hung from their locks. Brad helped Brooks
pull the gates open. The entrance to the tank farm held two small guard shacks,
which they cautiously approached and found empty. The small block buildings
were intact, but the windows had all been broken out. There were several signs
of a struggle in and around the guard shacks.

Brooks continued
forward until he spied a parking lot with a number of vehicles lined up. Toward
the back, they found four large fuel trucks and a couple of maintenance
vehicles. They patrolled in that direction, moving quietly and wary of any
movement. They set up a mini-perimeter around the first fuel truck which had
DIESEL painted on its side. Sean opened the cab door carefully and inspected
the interior, while Brooks jumped to the back of the truck and opened a hatch
to the vehicle’s tank. It was over three-quarters full, plenty to top off the
attack boat.  Upon inspecting the other three trucks, they found them also full
of diesel. Brad had heard that a Black Hawk could fly on diesel, but he was
sure Captain Bradley wouldn’t be happy about it. Hoping to find more, Brooks
pushed forward toward the tank yard.

They passed a
large fuel point where several pumps and fuel lines were connected to a long
string of pipes – exactly what they were looking for. A number of them were
labeled as petrol and JP-8. Sean checked out the pumps and found them
operational. Although there was no power, an emergency pump on the end appeared
to be gravity-fed. It would take longer, but should work for the pilots.

Brooks spotted a
large guard tower and took to the high ground to provide security while they
ran the refueling operations. Brad jumped into the cab of the large diesel
refueler to start it, but the truck refused to turn over. They tried the other
trucks; however, they also had dead batteries. Sean dug though the maintenance
tow vehicle and found a starter cart with four, twelve-volt batteries strapped
to it.

Quickly they
pulled the cart to the nearest fuel truck, and married the cart’s batteries to
the truck’s engine compartment. Brad jumped back in the cab and pushed the
start button. The truck clicked, groaned, and then roared to life. Sean pulled
the cart out of the way and ran to the back of the truck, jumping onto the
bumper. Brad ground the truck into gear and pulled forward out of the gate and
headed toward the beach.

He could see the
top of the boat sticking above the berm, and Nelson running across the bow
deck, readying the boat for the fuel truck’s arrival. Swanson and Nelson pulled
the anchors and Tony guided the boat next to the pier just as Brad eased
alongside of it. Sean quickly jumped out and pulled several feet of fuel line
from a reel mounted on the rear of the truck.

Swanson took the
other end and connected it to the boat’s tanks. She gave the ready signal and
Sean turned a wheel, releasing fuel to the boat. As they waited to top off the
boat’s tanks, Sean called the air crew and gave them directions to the tank
farm and indicated where they would need to land the bird. They all knew the
helicopter would make some noise and possibly bring in unwanted attention, so
the timing had to be perfect.

Sean and Brad
jumped out of the truck, leaving Nelson and Swanson to finish the refueling.
They ran back to the tank farm and pulled a long hose out and away from the
fuel point. Sean connected one end to the JP-8 spout and opened the valve. He
watched the hose stiffen and he quickly shut the valve back off.

 “Brooks, how’s
it looking up there?” Sean called over his radio.

“All clear Boss,
the airbase is looking like a ghost town,” Brooks answered.

“Roger that, I’m
going to call in the bird and get things refueled. Be ready to move back to the
beach as soon as it lifts off,” Sean relayed back.

Sean radioed the
air crew and gave them the go. Within five minutes, they could hear the
whooping of its blades. Just as Sean had asked, they came in from over the
ocean instead of flying across the island. Bradley flew the helicopter low and
fast. Staying low helped conceal the exact location of the helicopter as it approached
the tank farm. The bird touched down in a huge cloud of dust. Sean and Brad
turned their backs to the helicopter until it was powered down and the blades
stopped spinning.

As soon as it
was stopped, Craig and Mr. Douglas jumped out and ran for the fuel nozzles. Mr.
Douglas connected the fuel hose and gave Sean the thumbs up. Sean spun the
wheel, opening the valve, and watched the hose stiffen as it filled with fuel.
Mr. Douglas had told them they should be done in less than ten minutes. Sean received
a call from the boat team that they had finished filling the tanks and were
anchored back in the cove.

Brad had moved
away and was providing security near the maintenance trucks when Mr. Douglas
yelled that all of the tanks were topped off, and for Sean to cut the fuel off.
Sean spun the wheel and shut off the fuel feed. He then watched as Mr. Douglas
disconnected the nozzle and handed it to Craig, who pulled the hose away from
the helicopter.

“We are all set
here, Chief. Get clear and we can get airborne,” Captain Bradley yelled from
the cockpit.

Brooks leaned
out of the tower and yelled, “We got company!”

“Primals? How
many?” Sean yelled back.

“Nope, these
look a tad bit more dangerous. I got two vehicles: a jeep and an open-back
truck, ten, maybe fifteen men.”

“Captain, hold
off on the engines but be ready to go on my word,” Sean said as he walked past
the bird. He met up with Brad and together they slowly walked towards the tank
farm’s gate to greet the visitors.