Page 1 of Unloaded
PROLOGUE
ROSCO
The sun beats down relentlessly, but I don’t move a muscle, despite the sweat dripping into my eyes and running down my ass crack to tickle around my ball sack.
Fuck!I hate the damn desert. It’s hotter than hell during the day and dry and colder than a witch’s titty at night. Not to mention the sand getting in places better not mentioned. I feel like I’ve been coming here all my life, but in reality, it has only been about eight years. Eight fucking long years.
I squint, keeping my eyes on the target, blinking the sweat from them. My fellow teammates are nearby, doing the same, staying hidden as well as I am. We’ve been here for two days. I’m itching to get in there, to free the asset, but we have to bide our time. It will do us no good to move in too quickly and end up risking all our lives.
A scream rips through the air, causing the hair on the back of my neck to rise. It isn’t the first scream we’ve heard over the last two days, but it still gets to me every time, knowing she’s being tortured while we wait.
Thirty minutes later, the guards leave the shack where they’re holding our target, laughing as they wipe blood fromtheir hands. It’s time for their evening prayers. How they can go pray after hurting someone I’ll never understand. I’ve never been a church goer, but I believe in a higher power, one who would not approve of such behavior.
“Operation Sand Cat is a go,” Pitbull, our team leader, whispers into the comm.
It’s about fucking time!
I tense and release all my muscles as I’ve done thousands of times over the last two days, prepping myself for when it’s time to go. Recalling every contingency plan we’d run through prior to setting out on this mission, I ease out of my position.
Painstakingly slow, I make my way over the last few meters to the edge of the compound where the hostage is being held. In my peripheral vision, I see Drake making his way toward a guard near the gate. In seconds, the man is down without a sound. And that is why we are considered the best.
I joined the Navy right out of high school and set off to save the world, not knowing just how fucking hard that was going to be, but I’m a SEAL. “The only easy day was yesterday.” It’s the motto we live and die by. There is no other option. Get the job done no matter the cost to self. Those we are charged to find, recover, and protect are the most important goal. Bring. Them. Home.
Slipping into the building, I pause to allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness inside after the blinding sunlight. While my eyes are adjusting, I’m hit with the horrid smell of feces, blood, urine, and despair.
Once my eyes adapt, I’m appalled at what I’m seeing. Metal cages are stacked on top of one another three cages high and lined up along the wall to my left. In front of me are more rows of cages, again three cages tall filling the entire building. I’m horrified at the sheer number of people in here. We came fora single asset. We aren’t prepared for more, but we can’t leave them, can we?
Inching along the wall, I arrive at the first cage which contains two men. I pick the lock quickly, swinging open the door and kneel next to the first guy. His breath rattles in and out as death approaches. The man next to him is already gone. I’m too late for them.
Moving on to the next cage, I find a lone female lying on the floor. She’s mostly naked, her hair a tangled mess. Every dirty inch of her is battered, bruised, cut, or swollen. What’s left of her uniform is torn and bloody.
First Lieutenant Brooke Montgomery, the asset we’re here to rescue, is thankfully still breathing, and her pulse is strong. She’d been taken in broad daylight while in Kandahar. Although abductions are fairly common in places like that, hers had been shrouded in mystery.
We’d been briefed on it within days after she’d been reported missing, but there’d been zero intel on her whereabouts. Then after two months, there’d suddenly been a torrent of information flooding in. We’d been readied to infiltrate the camp. The CIA had sent one of their operatives to brief us prior to our departure, which was a little out of the normal for a 1Lt.
Movement catches my attention. Tiger is making his way across the room, opening cages as he moves, helping the live ones to their feet. I begin to do the same until we meet in the middle, opening as many of the cages as possible to give the hostages a fighting chance.
I return to the 1Lt., who hasn’t moved a muscle since I first laid eyes on her. “First Lieutenant Montgomery? I’m here to get you home,” I whisper, while lifting her into a fireman’s carry.
She swipes at me, making contact, but there’s no pain from her pathetic attempts. She has no strength. A whimper escapes her dry, cracked lips. I hate knowing this hold won’t becomfortable for her, but I need to keep one hand on my rifle. I trust my team to have my six. Still, I need to be able to protect both of us should the need arise.
Most of the guards are on the other side of the compound for evening prayers. We’ve eliminated the ones left on duty. We should be able to slip away without being noticed. We hurry out of the compound, herding those we’ve freed, making our way back into the desert, undetected.
It’s over five clicks to reach the Humvees waiting to get us out of this hellhole. It takes much longer than it should due to the weakened state of our rescues. The setting sun paints the sky shades of orange and red by the time we arrive.
I climb into the back of the middle vehicle, keeping the 1Lt. on my lap. There isn’t room to lay her down, since there’d been more hostages alive than we’d expected. Despite the heat, I cover her nakedness as best as I can with a thin blanket.
Once settled, I pull out a flask of water and position the 1Lt so she can drink.
“1Lt. Montgomery,” I call her name, “wake up!” Her dazed eyes slowly open but are unfocused. “Drink this.”
I hold the flask to her dried and busted lips. She shakes her head spilling the water over her lips and down her chin. “1Lt.!” Her head jerks back. Her eyes blinking rapidly. At last, they focus on me.
“You’re safe. I’m a Navy SEAL sent to bring you home.”
Recognition flares in her eyes. Then her body begins to shake as she cries, but no tears fall, indicating just how dehydrated her body is.
“Come on, drink for me.” Weakly she nods, then swallows a few sips of water. I continue to give her a sip or two every fifteen minutes on the long drive.
