Smoke and Shadow (27 page)

“
Ok. Hudson. I
want you to secure the bridge and restart the engines. The
navigation system will take over while we get the fucking rats off
this ship. Are you ok with that, son?
”

Hudson felt his
head shaking. His fingers twitched so much he could hardly work the
radio.
“
Sir. I
don
’
t know how to
turn on the engines. I don
’
t know how to steer a
boat.
”

“
Oh for the love
of...Vasquez, link up with Hudson and get us going please. I
don
’
t want to be a
sitting duck out here. We
’
re going to finish this mission and
we are going to finish it on time.
”

Vasquez
didn
’
t answer.

The air went out
of the group
’
s
collective gung ho attitude. Apone lost his air of
superiority.
“
Vasquez? What
’
s your status?
Marianna?
”

Hudson listened to the dead air.
His heart pounded like a jackhammer. His eyes bounced around in his
head, looking for threats everywhere. HIs mind raced back to
Afghanistan. He remembered feeling secure on patrol because he knew
other support elements were there to help. HIs team needed support
now. Hudson blinked sweat from his eyes as he talked into the
radio.

“
Sarge, do you
want me to send out a distress signal? I can jump on the radio
and
…”

“
Shut up rookie.
What makes you think we have time to wait for help in the middle of
the fucking ocean? And how are you going to explain the slaves down
below, huh? You want to rot in a Yemeni jail? I sure
don
’
t. So we
’
re going to put our big boy pants on and handle this
ourselves. You hear me?
”

Hudson shook his
head.
“
Yes,
sarge.
”

“
Alright then.
Here
’
s what
we
’
re gonna do.
Gorman and Burke, I want you to sweep the main cabin and link up
with Hudson on the bridge. I
’
m going below to handle the girls.
Ripley, meet me down there. Hudson, I want you to secure the bridge
and provide over watch for the team heading your way. You see
anybody, if you even think you see somebody. You fucking waste
them. It
’
s time to
earn your pay, boy. You ready?
”

Hudson could feel
tears forming in the corner of his eye.
“
Yes, sir.
”

Hudson felt all his senses expand
in all directions. He heard heavy breathing in every breeze coming
off the water. He saw movement in every shadow and he felt fear
crawling along his skin. He stopped breathing in a desperate
attempt to hear better and avoid attracting attention. But there
was no one with him besides the corpses of Bishop and Gorman.
Hudson crouched in the open doorway of the bridge and tried to
imagine what they were facing.

The scene played
itself out in his head. Whoever invaded the
Nostromo
slipped onto
the ship after he went to the head. They surprised Hicks and tossed
him into the ocean. Maybe they slit his throat first to make sure
he didn
’
t scream.
By the time Hudson got back to his position,
they
’
d already
reached the bridge. Bishop kept the door unlocked. Life on
the
Nostromo
had
been laid back for both the mercenaries and the crew. Everyone got
along and everyone did their job. Bishop had no reason to lock
himself on the bridge. He thought the seven armed men and miles of
ocean could keep him safe. Now the last of his blood trickled out
of the hole in his neck
…

Hudson looked
away from the corpse to refocus his attention on what happened. The
door had been blocked when he got there. Whoever came in
couldn
’
t have
wedged the body against the door and then left the bridge the same
way. Maybe he never left. Maybe he was still on the
bridge.

Hudson whirled around with a gasp,
expecting to see a killer standing behind him. But he stood alone
in the room, except for the dead bodies. He did see the hatch
leading below decks. The door sat open, taunting him like a hole to
hell. Hudson kicked the door closed and secured the lock. He began
to understand how the killers thought and moved. The next step lay
in anticipating what they would do next and beating them to the
punch.

Vasquez had been
assigned to guard the engine room. She would have come from below
decks. Her path put her in direct contact with the killers. How
many were there? Did she get a chance to see them?
 
She
didn
’
t get to fire
a shot. Everyone would have heard it. No, Vasquez died in the dark
without ever seeing the face of her killers.

But how many of
them were on the boat? Was it a whole fire team? Was it the SEALs?
Hudson met a couple of those guys on his tour. They thought they
could go anywhere, do anything and take on anybody. Maybe they
invaded the
Nostromo
. But why? Was it for the girls? Why would the Navy send its
best badasses to rescue a set of girls? Who were
they?

A flicker of
light flashed in Hudson
’
s peripheral vision, ending his speculation. He shifted in
his crouch and adjusted his grip on his MP5. The light became a
steady beam on the far end of the main cabin. Then another
flashlight appeared on the opposite site. Hudson made out the
silhouettes of Gorman and Burke. They scanned their surroundings
with professionalism and purpose. With their weapons held in a
ready position on their shoulders, they took measured and cautious
steps in the darkness towards him.

About twenty feet
separated the two operators. They split the room in half so they
could cover every corner with gunfire. Hudson brought his own stock
up to his shoulder, ready to provide cover and cut down anyone
unlucky enough to be in the crossfire. SEAL team or not, they
weren
’
t immune to
bullets. Hudson took a deep breath and prepared himself for
contact.

What Hudson saw
next had to be an optical illusion, or a trick of his overstressed
mind. Burke slid behind one of the big redwood support pillars
halfway between the aft and the bridge. Gorman scanned his light
behind a leather sofa on the opposite side. The two men moved in a
synchronized parallel pattern. Their cadence was designed to
prevent anyone slipping past them. Gorman completed his sweep and
continued on his path to Hudson. Burke didn
’
t move with him. He never emerged
from behind the pillar. Burke vanished into the
darkness.

The feeling
drained out of Hudson
’
s fingers. His lip started to tremble. He wanted to fire, but
he didn
’
t know
where to shoot. He didn
’
t want to hit Burke, but part of him knew it was too late to
worry about that. If he didn
’
t do something, it would be too late
for him too. He tried to wave his arm to Gorman, to get his
attention without making noise. Hudson wanted to believe they could
work together and triangulate fire on the right
target.

Gorman already
knew what to do. He spun on the balls of his feet, oriented his
barrel to Burke
’
s
last position, and collapsed like a house of
cards.

Hudson thought
he heard two sharp snaps cut through the silence before Gorman
dropped. He might have seen the head snap back and brain explode
from the back of his head, but everything moved too fast. Hudson
slammed shut the hatch, locked it and cowered in the corner as if
he
’
d seen a
monster.

But it was worse
than a monster. He didn
’
t see anything. Men just kept dying around him. Tough,
experienced, well-armed operators disappeared or dropped without
warning. There was no one to fight against and no one to shoot. It
felt just like those long gun battles he lived through in the
mountains, but those enemies had been far away. These enemies sat
in the same room. They were close enough to touch you without being
seen or heard. Hudson imagined them creeping towards the bridge. He
thought about unlocking the hatch and running below, but what good
would that do? His eyes caught sight of the radio and knew it was
his only chance. He reached for it, forgetting about Apone and
explaining the slaves and everything except finding a way off this
boat and getting back to Sam.

Apone
’
s hiss
over the radio stopped his hand in mid-motion.
 

“
Ripley? Burke?
Gorman? Report!
”

“
They
’
re gone.
”
Hudson heard the despair in his own voice. The sound made him
weak.
“
They
’
re all
gone, man. We
’
re
fucked.
”

“
Hudson? Where
the fuck are you?
”

“
I
’
m fucked,
Apone. Just like you.
”

“
Secure your
shit, rookie. We can handle this
…”

“
Haven
’
t you
been paying attention? All your men are gone. Your ship is dead in
the water. They
’
re
still out there somewhere. It
’
s over. We have to send out an SOS.
We have to get help.
”

“
You listen to
me, you little shit! You are not going to give up on me.
You
’
re in my squad
and this is my ship. You are going to get on your feet and make
your way to the state room. I
’
ll meet you halfway and
we
’
ll catch this
son of a bitch between us and
…”

“
You
don
’
t fucking get
it, do you? The team on your fucking boat wiped out everyone but
us. What makes you think we can...?
”

“
It
’
s not a
team, you stupid ass. If it was a team they would have hit us from
all sides at once, shock and awe with no chance to retaliate.
He
’
s picking us
off one by one because there
’
s only one man out there, maybe two.
We catch him in a vice between us and
…”

The memory of
Burke and Gorman trying to out maneuver their killer brought tears
to Hudson
’
s eyes
as he shook his head.
“
Only one man? Only? No. Fuck that. Fuck you.
I
’
m getting on the
radio. I
’
m calling
for help. I
’
m not
going out there to die with you.
”

Apone went into
another tirade, but Hudson couldn
’
t hear what he said. His ranting
became just another noise competing with the pounding in his chest,
the roar of blood in his ears and the raspy wheezing of his breath.
This was a special kind of fear. He felt it during his first
firefight in Jalalabad. But now he was alone. He
wouldn
’
t survive
like this. He had to get help. He didn
’
t think about the sheik, or slaves,
or a prison. He just picked up the receiver of the
ship
’
s radio and
felt it fall apart in his hands.

Hudson
’
s
eyes went wide as the cable connecting the receiver to the radio
dangled like a noose in his clenched fist. The cable
didn
’
t connect the
receiver to the radio anymore. Someone cut it. The same someone who
cut down everyone on the ship. Hudson threw the useless piece of
plastic across the room with a curse. A wave of nausea rolled
through his stomach and threatened to explode from his mouth.
Hudson gripped the edge of the console to steady himself. Then the
noise from Apone
’
s
voice stopped short. Silence replaced the screams.
 
Hudson knew Apone
was dead and he was alone.