Apocalypse Dawn (58 page)

Instead, Goose reached into the pocket of his BDUs and took out a packet of analgesic tabs. He popped the tabs into his mouth, not happy about having to use them because the aspirin in them also thinned the blood and would make any wounds he received bleed more and be harder to staunch.

But being able to move was top priority. He was infantry, after all, not air force or navy. He fought his battles on his feet and he needed two good legs.

He took the canteen from his hip and drank the tabs down in two long swallows. For a moment, he remembered how he and Chris sometimes filled one of his canteens with Sunny Delight-which Chris always called “power of the sun” because he quoted commercials that caught his eye-and “camped out on safari” in the backyard for an hour or two at a time. Chris’s vivid imagination always created ferocious beasts, which they tamed or trapped, or swamps filled with alligators, which they avoided. After while, alligators!

Joey never hung out there with them because he didn’t want to get caught crawling around on the ground to avoid vultures and dragons, but Bill Townsend had. Bill ended up getting to be Chris’s horse or camel or elephant a lot. When Joey had been not quite nine, when Goose had married Megan, the backyard had been Wrigley Field or Dodgers Stadium or Fenway Park or Turner Field. Megan had gotten to be the cheering section and umpire, just as she’d always been the “girl” Chris had insisted they rescue from the beasts in the jungle.

A wave of homesickness passed through Goose. He wanted to be back home with his family, to sit at the kitchen table and watch Chris playing in the backyard, to catch a ball game with Joey and work on whatever was creating a rift between them, to have dinner with Megan.

And Goose wanted Bill back here with him.

He pushed the thoughts away and concentrated on the action taking place in the stream. He made himself drink more water. That was one of the things he was pushing on all his troops. Perspiration was the body’s cooling mechanism, and drinking water provided the raw materials to get the job done.

A Jeep pulled away from farther up the stream’s edge. As the vehicle drew closer, Goose recognized Captain Tariq Mkchian in the passenger seat.

The Jeep pulled to a stop in front of the Hummer. Goose saluted.

“At ease, Sergeant,” Mkchian said as he stepped from the Jeep.

“Yes, sir.” Goose replaced his canteen on his hip.

Mkchian took off his sunglasses and wiped them free of dust. He put them back on and looked at the stream. “It’s an amazing thing, isn’t it?”

“What’s that, sir?’

“Belief, Sergeant. Belief.”

11 Yes, sir.”

Mkchian looked at him. “I’m surprised to see you here. I’d heard you were here earlier.”

“l was.”

“And you’re back now.” The statement came across as a question.

“Yes, sir.” Goose wasn’t going to tell the man that Remington had ordered him to be there or that the captain intended to put an end to the baptisms.

“I’ve also been told Captain Remington is en route,” Mkchian said.

Goose said nothing.

“My spies, you see,” Mkchian said, “are everywhere.” He grinned as he said it.

Goose knew that the statement was offered in jest, but he also knew that the Turkish captain would have been a fool not to monitor the activities of the Rangers.

“So I had to ask myself,” Mkchian said, “what Captain Remington would be doing out here. He has been very adroit at managing intelligence, supply, reinforcements, and renegotiating satellite reconnaissance even though it involved the introduction of the OneWorld NewsNet people among my men.”

Goose shifted uncomfortably on his injured knee. Neither sitting nor standing helped with the pain. Only being in motion to some degree helped alleviate the gnawing sensation and the throbbing.

“The only answer I came up with,” Mkchian continued, “was that Captain Remington wasn’t happy with the events that are currently taking place here.”

Goose didn’t comment.

“I, on the other hand,” the Turkish captain said, “was raised Christian. That’s surprising in a country that is 98 percent Islamic. However, many people don’t know that Christianity was the chief religion in this country before Islam came in with the Seljuks when they took Jerusalem in 1071.”

“Their taking Jerusalem precipitated the Crusades,” Goose said.

Mkchian smiled as if in pleasant surprise. “A student of history, Sergeant?”

“My dad was a Sunday school teacher back home, and after the Korean War, he got his doctorate in history and taught college for a while. “The university job didn’t keep Wes Gander from being a simple man, though. “My dad showed me how Bible history intersects what they teach in public schools.”

Mkchian nodded. “My family-according to my father, who takes great pride in these things-insists that we can trace our Christianity back to the early people who first lived in these lands.” He looked toward the stream. “This event is an unexpected thing, Sergeant, but I believe it is a good thing.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But your captain doesn’t think so?”

“You’d have to ask him, sir.”

“I’ll do that, Sergeant.” Mkchian looked at Goose. “In the meantime, I’ve noticed that your leg is troubling you.”

“I’m getting by.”

“Nonsense. You’re in pain. I noticed that earlier and took the liberty of getting a medical kit. Have you ever had a cortisone shot before?”

“Yes.” In the past, he’d needed a few cortisone shots to keep that knee functioning.

“I have cortisone. If you’ll allow my aide to treat you. I assure you that he’s trained to deliver shots like this.” Mkchian smiled. “I took a round through my left shoulder a few years ago. The shoulder had to be reconstructed. It still troubles me from time to time, and I have found cortisone to be a good thing.” He gestured to the jeep driver. “Tonight, when we pull back from this border, I would like knowing that you are as able as you can be. To me, such a course of action makes sense because I will in part be relying on you. What do you think?”

Goose hesitated only a moment. “Yes, sir.” He knelt with difficulty and unlaced his boot. He pulled his pant leg up and bared his swollen knee.

Mkchian frowned as Goose hoisted himself up on the Hummer’s rear deck so his leg would dangle freely. “That knee is in horrible shape, Sergeant.”

“Yes, sir. It’s not the first time I’ve damaged it.” Goose breathed out and then took slow breaths, pushing his mind past the pain that felt like a rusty bear trap had seized hold of his knee when the corporal gently worked his leg. He continued breathing through the pain of the shots as the man stabbed the needle deep into his knee. Thankfully, the cortisone was mixed with a local anesthetic and the pain relief was immediate.

“You realize that the cortisone will take the pain away,” Mkchian said, “but does not reduce the damage or the amount of damage you can unknowingly do to it.”

Goose lowered his pant leg, tucked it back into his boot, and pulled the laces tight. “I know that from past experience, Captain. Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure. When we get to Diyarbakir, you should have that knee looked at.”

“I will, sir.” Goose stood on the leg and tested it. The knee felt numb, like it was a long way away, but he felt his foot just fine.

An engine sounded over the ridgeline. A handful of seconds later, Cal Remington arrived in an RSOV with a full complement of Rangers.

Goose stood ramrod still and saluted. “Sir,” he barked.

Seeing Remington in captain’s dress still somehow seemed odd after all these years. Goose could remember when they were both coming up through the ranks, both of them breaking in one second lieutenant after another, only to see them go or transfer. But the recognition of the chain of command was immediate.

“Sergeant,” Remington said gruffly and fired off a salute while on the move. He looked over Goose’s shoulder, and Goose knew exactly what the captain was looking at. “I didn’t know we were hosting a revival.”

“No, sir,” Goose replied. Ever since Remington had gotten hold of him, told him he was coming out, Goose had known what the captain was going to want to discuss.

“If we’re not,” Remington snapped, “then tell me why I’ve got a Ranger corporal and three army chaplains hip deep in water handing out baptisms like there was a fire sale.”

“Things got out of control, sir,” Goose responded.

“Out of control? Sergeant, when things get out of control, you’re the first man I expect to put them back under control.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s lip service, mister.” Remington stood toe-to-toe with Goose, glaring down at him.

Goose knew anger was the most volatile emotion Remington had. In every other department-love, fear, curiosity-he seemed cool, almost dispassionate. Remington and Bill had never gotten along, and Goose had often had to argue on Bill’s behalf to keep him with the 75th.

“Who assigned those chaplains to be there with Baker?” Remington asked.

“I did, sir.”

“Why?”

“Because I thought it would speed up the process, sir.”

“How about ending the process, Sergeant? Did that cross your mind?”

“Yes, sir, it did. However, that seemed to be an unattainable objective, sir.”

“First Sergeant,” Remington growled, “that’s the last thing I want to hear from the man I put in command of my troops.”

“Yes, sir.’

Remington glared out at the stream. “Those men are slowing down my operation.”

. No, sir,” Goose said immediately.

Remington turned on him in an instant, shoving his face within inches of Goose’s. “What?”

Goose met Remington’s gaze full measure. For a moment, just the barest hint of a moment that didn’t last long enough to cross the line between non-com and officer, they were just two men again.

“The operation has not been slowed, sir,” Goose said. “If the captain will check the ops parameters on the mission he has assigned, he’ll find that the 75th-despite the loss of manpower and materials-is forty minutes ahead of schedule. The rifle companies are going to be ready to bed down before sunset, sir, instead of working into the night as we had predicted. We will be able to cover the noman’s-land much more effectively.”

Remington cursed and drew back. “Those men need to be removed from that stream, Sergeant.”

Before Goose could reply, before he could even figure out what he was going to say, Captain Mkchian spoke up.

“Captain Remington, if I may interject.”

“You may not,” Remington said, turning on the Turkish captain.

Immediately, the men with Mkchian spread out around their commanding officer. Mkchian appeared to take no offense.

“This is a United States Army matter,” Remington snarled.

“And this is Turkish soil,” Mkchian stated in a calm, even voice that carried naked steel in each word. “You and your men are here at the invitation of my country, because your president believes he has a vested interest in the outcome of things that happen here. I represent the government that invited you here, and as their representative, I’ll suffer no disrespect. Is that clear?”

Remington glared at the man. “What do you want?”

“I want this operation to continue, Captain Remington, until it is done. For as long as it takes. You have not seen the effect this is having on the men. Tonight they are going to have to fight for their lives. I would rather they went into that fight believing they could win, or at the very least, survive.”

“Getting dipped in holy water and having the name of God spoken over you isn’t going to save your hide,” Remington said.

Mkchian smiled coldly. “Perhaps their hides aren’t what these men are worried about. These men aren’t fools. I have talked with many of them. They believe God has called them to this place and to those men in the water.”

“Don’t give me the God mumbo jumbo. Maybe dipping Achilles in the River Styx made him invincible, but it’s not going to do that for those men.”

“I don’t think they expect that. But I have noticed that many of the men come away from that stream a little braver, a little more clearheaded.”

“It’s water!” Remington growled.

“It’s belief,” Mkchian said.

“I’m not going to allow this to happen,” Remington said.

“And I’m not going to allow you to stop it.” Mkchian held his ground.

Remington turned on the captain. “You can’t stop me from taking my men.”

The Rangers behind Remington, all of them handpicked and all of them discipline problems for everyone but the Ranger captain, flared out, both hands on their weapons.

Unexpectedly, Mkchian clapped his hands and said, “Bravo. Now wouldn’t this be a fine finale to the United States Army Ranger involvement in Turkey? My government reluctantly brings you in, and you end up in a Wild West gunfight with the very army you’re supposed to be helping. Out of purely humanitarian reasons, of course, as your President Fitzhugh claims.”

“No one stands between my men and me,” Remington growled.

“Of course not, Captain.” Mkchian waved generously toward the stream. “Take your men. By all means. But are you prepared to arrest all of those men you will incite to riot?”

Goose breathed shallowly, stunned by the events taking shape. He’d never seen Remington more on edge.

“And they will riot, Captain,” Mkchian said in a softer voice. “Those men are trapped here, and they need something to believe in. Something more than merely military rank and file. A lot of them are dead, but a lot more of them disappeared today without explanation.” The Turkish captain raised an eyebrow. “Unless you’re prepared to explain that to them?”

Remington didn’t answer.

“I didn’t think so.” Mkchian looked at Goose. “I came here prepared to stop your sergeant, because I fully expected him to try to put an end to these baptisms. He would have tried, despite what you think. He’s a good man. I’m glad I caught you at the same time so I don’t have to order you restrained.”

“If you had done that-“

“1 would have,” Mkchian said. “You have my promise on that. These men will have their peace, Captain Remington. It is within my power to give them that, and I will.” He paused. “Furthermore, if you decide to follow through on this course of action, I will seek out Danielle Vinchenzo, the OneWorld NewsNet reporter that you have sponsored in this area, and tell her exactly what you have done.”