The Lazarus Moment (26 page)

“Now
let’s move!” he shouted, waving them forward. He grabbed the runner by the
shoulder, drawing him closer. “Did you tell them to advance?”

His head
bobbed rapidly. “I did.”

“And
will they?”

Fear
spread across the young man’s face. “I-I think so.”

Domingos
frowned.

“They
better, or they’re all as dead as their friends.”

South of Air Force One Crash Site, Mozambique

Dawson waited in the rear of the group with Niner and Atlas. The
gunfire had been fierce but brief, it all over in minutes. Skerritt had sent a
message to them that they were okay, though they couldn’t be certain no one
else lay in wait. Something snapped in the darkness.

“Flash!”

“Thunder!”
Dawson smiled, his head turning toward the response as he snapped on his
flashlight. The others did the same as Skerritt and his men stepped out from
the darkness looking like they were in one piece, sporting some new weaponry.

Skerritt
held up an AK-47. “Thought we could use these since they didn’t need them
anymore.”

Dawson
grinned as he took the weapon and the mags. “How many?”

“Six,
lightly armed. They won’t be bothering us anymore.”

Niner
pointed at Skerritt’s leg. “What happened there?”

Dawson saw
a dozen shards of something sticking out of Skerritt’s thigh, blood soaking his
pants.

“A tree
decided to remind me I’m not king of the jungle.”

Niner
dropped and examined the leg. He looked up. “Don’t think this is a first date
or anything.”

“Never
dream of it, though I’ve heard some wild stories about you Delta boys puttin’
out on the first go round.”

Niner
yanked a splinter free.

“Oww!”

“Never
insult your medic.”

Skerritt
grinned at Dawson. “Sorry.” Another splinter hauled out, Skerritt grimacing
this time. “So what’s the plan?”

Dawson
turned, pointing upriver. “Atlas just came back from scouting ahead and
he
had a crazy idea that I think is worth considering.”

Atlas
leaned in. “What he means is if it goes wrong, I’m the one that gets blamed. It
was actually
his
idea.”

Skerritt
looked at him. “Of course, Command Sergeant Majors are never wrong.”

Atlas slapped
Niner on the shoulder. “Look out, shit rolls downhill.”

Niner
glanced up at him. “Just because I’m on my knees doesn’t mean you can shit on
me.”

“Your
plan?” asked Skerritt, shaking his head.

“The
river is a lot calmer here than it is down by the falls, but more importantly,
it’s narrower and lower on the other side.”

Skerritt’s
eyes narrowed. “You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you?”

Dawson
held out his hands, palm upward. “We’ve got two hundred hostiles heading our
way with no hope of our rescue team reaching us in time, and even if they did,
we’re still outnumbered five to one.”

“That
wouldn’t really bother me if it weren’t for the President and the civilians.”

“Agreed.
We’ve got steel-reinforced cable from the chopper—”

“We do?”

Atlas
nodded. “Yeah, the entire hoist assembly was blown clear in the explosion.” He
pointed to a bundle of rolled up cable nearby. “I went back and grabbed it
while you guys were out playing tag.”

“Good
thinking.”

“It
happens.”

Niner
slapped Skerritt on the leg, causing him to wince. “All done, sweetheart.”
Niner rose, ducking Skerritt’s swing. “Is that anyway to thank the man who
saved your life?”

Skerritt
gave Niner a look. “Hugs and kisses later, baby, just to say thank you.”

Niner
winked. “Looking forward to it.”

Skerritt
tested out the leg, then walked over to the cable. “So how do we get it
across?”

“I’ll
go,” said Atlas. “Tie it off on the other side, then we’ll rig a harness and
everyone slides over, one at a time.”

Skerritt
nodded. “Sounds like it will take time.”

“Yup,”
agreed Dawson. “Some of the civilians are making the harnesses now and some
rope out of vines. We were just waiting for the all clear from you.”

“All
clear,” said Skerritt. “But there’s one flaw in your plan.”

“What’s
that?”

“You
need a SEAL to take that thing across the river.”

“You
think you can swim better than me?” boomed Atlas.

Skerritt
eyed him. “I
know
I can swim better than you.”

Dawson
shrugged. “If a SEAL has to cross, then fine.” He pointed at the leg. “But it
can’t be you. You’re liable to attract some unwanted company with that thing
bleeding all over the place.”

Skerritt
glanced down at his thigh then frowned. “You’re right. Felix, you up for
getting a little wet.”

“Born
for it.”

“Then
let’s get to it, times a wastin’.”

North of Air Force One Crash Site, Mozambique

Red froze, holding up a fist, bringing the others to a halt, he hearing
chatter to their left, it distinct from the sounds of the jungle, sounds he had
almost tuned out after hours surrounded by it.

This was
different.

Somebody
laughed.

Somebody
else snapped out a scolding.

The
laughter wasn’t repeated.

But it
was too late, the enemy’s position revealed.

And they
were close.

Too
close to pass up the opportunity.

He knew
Dawson was taking the civilians across the river. It was the right move, these
rebels moving too fast to outrun, but they needed time. There were almost fifty
people to get across and at the rate these guys seemed to be moving, maybe an
hour left to complete the job.

Not
enough time.

We
have to delay them.

He
motioned for the others to fan out then activated his comm. “Control, Bravo
Zero-Two, come in, over.”

“Zero-Two,
this is Control Actual. What’s your status, over?”

“We’ve
found the rebel force, about two hundred yards east of us. They’re going to be
on top of the survivors in less than an hour. Is there any chance of an
airstrike?”

“Negative,
Zero-Two. Pentagon says they can’t risk the President.”

“The
flyboys would really have to miss at this distance, Colonel.”

“You and
I are in agreement, but no one wants to chance a friendly fire incident.”

“I think
the chances of a hostile fire incident is much greater.”

“Preaching
to the choir, Zero-Two, but there’s nothing we can do. More SEALs are on the
way but they’re dropping in well back due to what happened. Pentagon is playing
this cautiously. It’s their position that the President and his family will be
the first across the river so they will be safe. The others are acceptable
losses should it go bad.”

“Nice.
Permission to harass and delay?”

“Granted.
Just watch yourselves, the odds are a little against you this time.”

“Roger
that, Colonel. Zero-Two, out.”

He
switched frequencies, whispering to the others. “Okay boys, delaying tactic.
We’re not really trying to hit anything, we’re trying to slow them down and
draw them toward us. Let’s just get about one hundred yards out, lay down some
fire, then fall back to the southwest. Understood?”

Acknowledgements
came through his earpiece. He flipped his night vision goggles in place and
using hand signals, ordered the advance. As they neared the large group the
quiet whispers of conversation became more obvious, and soon one could be
forgiven for thinking they were coming up on a group of people just out
camping. They were clearly in good spirits, the banter quiet though
interspersed with snickers and chuckles.

Probably
thinking they’re about to be rich.

“Hold.”

He stopped
behind a tree, the western edge of the force visible. Most of them had torches
in one hand, AKs in the other or slung.

They had
no idea they were about to be hit.

“One mag
each then fall back on three… two… one… execute.”

He
opened fire, single shot, picking his targets as best he could, the jungle
dense from this distance, it hard to find enough targets worth the thirty shots
available.

As panic
spread among the hostiles, a few had the presence of mind to drop and return
fire as Red shot his final round. He turned and tore ass west as he ejected the
empty mag and reloaded. The gunfire began to increase as the rest of the enemy
found their balls, somebody coordinating them, and he could hear the trees
behind him getting ripped apart, but with every step more and more lumber was
between the team and their enemy. He could hear the others on his flanks, a
quick glance showing everyone still on their feet, and as the bullets faded, he
turned to the left, heading south, the others mirroring his move.

He signaled
a stop and they all took a knee. “I took out about six.” He looked at Spock.
“You?”

“Same.”

“Five.”

“Four.”

“Nine.”

Red eyed
Jimmy. “Nine?”

He
grinned. “What can I say? I had a good shot at a cluster of them.”

Red
started to do the mental math. “So what’s that, six—twelve—seventeen—”

“Thirty,”
interrupted Spock.

“Math
whiz.”

Spock
cocked an eyebrow. “No, I just paid attention in school.”

“Show
off,” muttered Jagger.

Spock
gave him the finger in the pitch dark.

“Umm,
you do realize we all have night vision?”

Spock’s
eyes popped wide. “Oops.”

Everyone
stifled a laugh.

Red glanced
back toward the firefight. “They’ve stopped and I’m not hearing any signs of
pursuit. Looks like they’re not taking the bait. Any other ideas?”

“Keep
hitting them. If we could get thirty at a time, we just might thin them out
enough to either break their lines or at least make it a winnable fight when
they reach BD.”

Red
looked at Jagger, chewing his lip. “That’s a big if. I don’t think they’ll be
caught with their pants down this time. My guess is they’ll drop on the first
shot then open fire. We took them by surprise this time, it won’t happen
again.”

“Then
what do we do?” asked Spock.

Red
grinned. “Rather than harass, we annoy.”

North of Air Force One Crash Site, Mozambique

Afonso Domingos took cover behind a tree, content to let his men
return fire as he listened. The burst of fire on their position was short
lived, his men quickly responding. He knew enough about military tactics to
know this was a delaying action. If it were fifty men like Nyusi had claimed,
there would have been a massive amount of firepower concentrated on their
position, and it wouldn’t have stopped.

If
there’s half a dozen, I’ll be surprised.

Which
meant they were trying to delay them because he must be close.

His men
were used to the jungle, used to moving at night by torchlight or less. They
would absolutely be moving faster than the survivors, for there clearly were
survivors. A small force wouldn’t risk their lives to protect wreckage.

Survivors
mean money.

He
smiled at the thought as he stepped out from behind the tree.

Nobody
will stop me from getting my payday.

“Cease
fire!” he ordered, the gunfire quickly dwindling to silence. “They’re just
trying to delay us! We keep moving forward!”

Somebody
moaned to his right, a stomach wound that would have him dead within the hour,
either from blood loss or jungle beast. He pulled his Beretta and put a single
shot in the man’s chest.

A hushed
silence spread across the group.

“That
was not punishment, that was mercy. There’s no time to take care of the
wounded. If you’re wounded and can walk, head back to the boats. If you can’t,
you can take your chances in the jungle alone, or ask your comrades to finish
it for you. Either way, we move out, now!”

A
gunshot rang out to his left, another to his right.

Then the
entire force moved forward, the idle chatter silenced, the excitement over what
was supposed to be an easy payday, forgotten.

This had
become real.

Leaving South African Airspace

Igor Khomenko stared out the window at the night sky, the sun barely
a sliver to the west, the stars forcing their way onto the deep blue canvas
overhead. In the distance, he could see the red and green lights of another
plane, but his eyes were focused on the ground below.

How
did they survive?

He had
spent the entire time in the bathroom reading every report he could find, but
there were no details yet, the White House not even confirming the reports the
President was alive, instead issuing a statement that there would be a press
conference shortly.

Shortly.

Unfortunately,
he was now on an airplane with no Wi-Fi, it apparently disabled for some
reason.

Maybe
they know about the hack on Air Force One.

If they
did, then he would imagine that every airline in the world would have their
Wi-Fi networks disabled, thinking that their systems were vulnerable. He was no
tech expert and wasn’t about to speak up to tell them they had nothing to worry
about.

That’s
not how
I
did it, so it’s okay to turn the Wi-Fi
back on!

He
smiled slightly, his face reflected in the small portal to the outside world.

Then
sighed.

What had
been the point? He wasn’t out to seek revenge on the rest of the plane, just
the President. His family was gravy. The others he couldn’t care less about,
their deaths doing nothing to quench his desire for revenge.