Page 40 of Indirect Attack
THE TERRORIST BASEwas in chaos, the air alive with shouts, cries of the wounded, an occasional burst of gunfire, and the crackle of flames. Bodies littered the ground, thrown into dancing shadows by the intense fires that had once been buildings. Smoke filled the air, thick and choking, and I managed to maneuver so I could pull a cover over my mouth. I didn’t want to know what had been in some of those buildings. Ash flickered through the air, driven by the soft breeze so incongruous to the scene, and I pulled Jasmine closer to me to try to cover her from the worst of it.
In my arms, even unconscious, Jasmine weighed almost nothing. I knew she wasn’t delicate, but it felt like at that moment, if I moved incorrectly, she would shatter. When Jasmine had grown slack, I’d panicked for a moment. But she was still breathing, her chest rising and falling against me, and we had no time to stop and take stock of her other injuries—I had to get her out of here and to safety.
I wanted to take her and run far, run fast, away from this place and this country and these terrorists who lived to do nothing but sow chaos. The thought made me so angry that ittook a tremendous effort to remain calm instead of going off on some kind of vengeful rampage.
Instead, I kept my attention on Mitchell, whom I knew I could rely on to ensure our path was clear.
A roaring started in the northeast, quickly becoming fighter jets streaking by overhead, the strident thunder of their engines drowning out every other sound for a long moment—Herman and his squad. It gave me a burst of calm to know my big brother was backing me up.
The rest of the cavalry, in the form of trucks full of Gilderslavian soldiers, crashed through the trees soon after, and without having to talk, Mitchell and I made for them.
“We need transport to a hospital,” Mitchell called up to one of the drivers as the heavily-armed soldiers onboard disembarked and headed out, ready to provide support.
Mitchell pulled himself up into the back of the truck, and I reluctantly handed Jasmine’s motionless form to him before climbing up after them. We settled onto the benches, Jasmine in my arms again and held close, Mitchell banged the driver on the back, and the truck pulled forward with a jerk.
The ride to the hospital was silent, Mitchell keeping weary watch, his shoulders stiff with tension. Neither of us knew whether we could expect another attack—there were too many unknowns and too much chaos to believe in anything at that moment.
I checked Jasmine’s breathing every few minutes, each time gripped by a sudden terror that she’d stopped when I wasn’t paying attention. Even in the dark of the back of the truck, I could see that her face was swollen, blood smeared on her skin, but that was all I could see without closer inspection. She looked like she was in shock, at the least, but I had no idea what had happened to her during the hours she’d been held by the terrorists. There was a good chance that she had internalbleeding, swelling in her brain, or other unspeakable injuries that I didn’t want to consider unless I had to.
It would be incredible luck if shock were the only thing wrong with her. The doctors would know more when we got to the hospital—if we ever got there. It seemed to be taking forever.
“Are we almost there?” I finally growled to Mitchell. “Where the hell are we going? Mars?”
“Calm down, dude.” Eyes still on the world beyond the truck, Mitchell didn’t look back at me as he spoke. “We’re in the city. He’s getting there as fast as he can.”
I took a deep breath to calm my impatience, but it didn’t help much. The closer we got, the longer it took, the edgier I felt, and the faster my foot tapped on the floor of the truck. Mitchell finally spared me a glance, his eyebrows drawn down in annoyance. But he shook his head.
“She’ll be okay.”
“She almost wasn’t.” I snapped the words without thinking.
“But she is.” Mitchell’s tone held understanding, and I subsided. This wasn’t his fault, and I nodded my head in apology. He tipped his head in return, returning to his vigil.
“Besides, I don’t think they wanted to kill her. I think I saw his gun moving toward us at the last second.”
The words caught me by surprise, but before I could say anything, the truck stopped with a loud squeal of brakes. The driver appeared, pulling down the back lift.
“I radioed ahead. They’re expecting her.” The soldier’s words were heavily accented.
“Thanks,” I said, hoping he heard how grateful I was for the ride and the forethought as we hopped down.
The emergency crew was indeed waiting for us, with a stretcher, nurses, and a doctor ready. They started wheeling Jasmine away as I gave them her information. “We’ll call youwith updates. Leave your information with the nurse,” the doctor told us as I followed the stretcher at a fast trot.
Then the team disappeared through the doors, and it was quiet.
“I should stay here,” I told Mitchell as he came to stand next to me, but my buddy shook his head.
“You can’t do anything else, man. She’s going to be okay. We’re still on duty, though. We need to get back to the base.”
I couldn’t argue with the man’s logic, but he still almost had to drag me out and back to the truck. It felt wrong to leave Jasmine instead of staying as close by her side as I could. Then again, I knew what she would tell me—I still had a job to do, and I had to do it. Others relied on me.
Back at the base, we debriefed and were debriefed by the base commander and the UN rep. My team had made it out, each one. The one guy who had been shot was at the hospital and expected to make a full recovery. Outside of my squad, the casualties had been heavy on both sides, though far heavier for the terrorists. More than that, in a moment of consciousness, Jasmine managed to tell the doctors that the terrorists had hidden bombs throughout the city and the dig site with the goal of blowing it all up. The UN team had already recovered most of them, thanks to a mix of intel, bomb-sniffing dogs, and a particularly talkative terrorist.
“You’re a hero, Sergeant Rusev.” The UN rep leaned back against the CO’s desk, his arms crossed over his chest.
But I waved away the praise. “I wasn’t not going to rescue her.”
The man’s eyes narrowed slightly at the gruff reply, but he didn’t say anything more. I looked into his eyes before meeting my CO’s gaze.
