Only the Dead Live Forever (12 page)

21.

As they casually
walked toward the gate’s entrance, Sean continued to communicate with Brooks,
who was lying prone on the tower’s catwalk. Brooks had hidden himself in the
shadows with his suppressed M14, and his radio headset was perfectly synched
with Sean’s.

“Keep eyes on them.
Be ready to cover us. You prioritize your targets,” Sean calmly said into the
radio.

“You expecting
trouble, Chief?” Brad asked as they walked to the center of the lane and
watched the two vehicles drive around the corner.

“Not expecting,
Brad, just preparing for it. Stay frosty and let me do the talking. Be prepared
to react.”

The jeep pulled
through the gate and stopped nearly twenty-five feet from where Brad and Sean
were standing. The truck drove beyond the jeep and parked on the far side. Both
vehicles were clearly marked as Oman military. The vehicles looked to be in
good working order. Not combat ready, though. Brad thought they looked like
security forces, possibly airport police.

The soldiers
jumped from the back of the open-topped truck and formed up around the side.
They were standing in more of a gaggle than a military formation. Brad
carefully watched the group of men. They didn’t have the mannerisms of
professionals. They joked and held their rifles carelessly; even more alarming,
they were not uniformly dressed. Some wore tennis shoes; one soldier was even
in sandals. ‘
Maybe these men are contract security?’
Brad thought to
himself.

Two men in
military uniform climbed out of the jeep, one a tall, dark-skinned man with an
African complexion, and the other a smaller, possibly Persian, man. Neither of
them, nor the soldiers for that matter, appeared to be of Middle Eastern
descent. Brad’s internal warning bells began to chime.

The African man
walked with the swagger that identified him as the one in charge. He spoke
privately to the smaller man. The two pretended not to see Brad and Sean as
they took their time walking back to the truck and speaking with their men.
There was a great deal of laughing as the men nodded their heads in agreement with
the man in charge.

“Looks like we
may be dealing with some arrogance, no telling who these fools are,” Sean
whispered. “Just stay casual, hands off your weapons.”

After several
minutes, the two presumed officers turned, as if they had just noticed the
presence of the uniformed Americans and the large helicopter sitting in front
of them. The presumed leader turned and said something to the smaller man and
they both laughed. They began strolling towards Brad and Sean. Brad saw that
only the shorter man carried a rifle. The tall man had a holstered pistol.

Brad noticed
that the tall man was wearing a mix of uniforms. He had on a Saudi uniform
jacket, with American-style MultiCam pants. His cover looked like an airline
pilot’s cap, or maybe a ship’s captain’s hat. He was wearing the railroad track
insignia that would identify him as an Army captain. The other man’s uniform
was better put together, but it was of a completely different pattern and
appeared to be an enlisted man’s rank.

They stopped
about eight paces away. They continued speaking to each other as if Brad and
Sean were not there. The shorter man belted out an exaggerated laugh. Then the
tall man locked eyes with Sean and spoke in a stern voice. Sean calmly shrugged
his shoulders and showed the palms of his hands, indicating he did not
understand the man’s language.

The man shook
his head. “Of course … Americans. You never bother to learn another language.
Is this better for you?” the tall man said.

“Oh yes, thank
you, that’s much better. How can we help you gentleman?” Sean answered.

At this both men
let out another exaggerated laugh. “Help us … You are a funny American. You are
stealing from us. You have stolen fuel and who knows what else.”

“Oh come on,
pal. You know what is going on in the world. We are just borrowing some fuel
and we will be on our way. I’ll write you a receipt and I’m sure you will
receive payment from Uncle Sam.”

The men laughed
again. Brad looked beyond the men and saw that the band of the soldiers had
spread out and were holding their rifles nervously.

The tall man
stepped forward and shook his head in disappointment. “I am sorry, but we must
place you under arrest; and I will have to confiscate your helicopter, and its
crew.”

 “Oh is that so?
Damn, this is just turning out to be a horrible day for me. I was hoping we
would be able to work this out. So who is it again that’s arresting me?” Sean
asked.

Brad watched the
men in the back closely. They had stopped moving and seemed to feel confident
that they had the Americans trapped. They began to step closer, then halted
again when they were less than fifteen feet away.

“I am General
Osman; I am in command of this entire base and island. Now you will surrender
your weapons to me,” the tall man said in a stern voice.

Sean used his
hands to mockingly straighten his uniform, then looked back at the man,
smiling. “Oh no way, shucks. My bad, General, the captain’s rank on your pirate
uniform threw me for a spin there. I went and got all confused.” Sean stopped
speaking for a second, then brought his eyes to the ground and shook his head
from side to side. When he looked back up, he gave the general a serious stare.

“You know what?
Fuck it; I’m too tired for this horseshit today. See, I don’t know how you
managed to put yourself in command. But I’m going to ask you really nice-like
to turn around and go back to where you came from. All we need is a few minutes
and you can have this island all to yourselves again.”

The man was
obviously shocked. He spoke rapidly to the short man next to him. Brad didn’t
understand the words, but he could tell that the tall man was frustrated and
not used to having his orders ignored.

The general
scowled. “I am going to give you a count of five, then my men will execute you.
This will be your last warning. You are under arrest,” the tall man again
demanded.

“Well darn. I
was really hoping that it wouldn’t come to this …. Brooks you still on? Yeah,
this isn’t going well … Go ahead and take the short fat man …” Sean said.

“Wait … who is
this Brooks?” the fake general demanded.

There was a
muffled pop and a zip through the air as a high speed projectile passed between
Brad and Sean and smacked the short man in the middle of the forehead. The
short man stood with a blank expression for a few seconds, then fell over and
onto his back. The fake general was in shock. Brad watched as the man’s
arrogance turned to fear. He took a single step backwards, then looked back at
Sean.

“This is an
outrage, now my men will …”

Sean interrupted
the man and spoke into the radio.

“Yeah, Brooks,
the tall one next, yeah that’s right … the one with the captain’s bars on his
uniform.”

“No, no, no,
wait, wait,” the man pleaded with Sean as he took another step back. “We can
negotiate, we can negotiate.”

“Hmmm, hey
Brooks, give me a second, buddy. Sounds like the general wants to negotiate,
just hang tight okay?”

Brad looked back
at the armed soldiers ... or were they pirates? They all looked confused, as if
they didn’t know what to do when they were off their game plan. Brad guessed they
hadn’t come across this situation before. They were probably used to robbing
civilians and the random merchant that came into port looking for fuel, and had
never been challenged before.

Sean stepped
forward and placed his hands on his hips. “So, here’s how this negotiation will
work. You and your men will turn around and leave.”

“Come on friend,
you can at least compensate us for the fuel and the death of my man.”

“Okay … That
offer is now off the table. Offer two is this. You drop your weapons now. Turn
around and drive through that gate. You have to the count of ten, or we kill
all of you,” Sean said, losing patience.

“You shoot me!”
the general shouted. “No, I shoot on you! I have many men with rifles! They
will skin you alive! I have many more in the barracks. You have
one
hidden man with a rifle,” the fake general said, losing his temper.

“General …
Captain, Pirate … or whatever you want to be called today. See that helicopter
behind me? That is a chain gun hanging out of that window. If you would care to
look behind you in the harbor, that pretty boat there has a mounted
30-millimeter cannon. And yes, let’s not forget my trained friend who just
happens to be so good with his rifle he could kill all of your men on his own.
Now what’s it going to be, Pirate?” Sean said.

The general
locked eyes with Sean and gave an angry stare. He slowly reached into his
holster and pulled a small revolver out. He dropped the small hand gun near the
body of the short man. “Very well, you have ten minutes, then I come back,” the
fake general said.

The tall man
turned around and faced the other men and began yelling at them. They
scrambled, looked confused, dropped their rifles, and ran back to the trucks.
The tall man walked back and sat in the jeep as the engines started and they
pulled through the gate.

“We need to
hurry. Captain Bradley, get that bird fired up. Brooks, back to the boat now,”
Sean yelled.

The Black Hawk
began whining and the blades picked up speed. Soon they were whipping, kicking
up a cloud of dust. Sean ran to the pilot’s seat and spoke with Captain
Bradley. He closed the cockpit door and ran back to Brad. Brooks pulled up
behind them; his MP5 was still slung and he carried the large M14 at the ready.

They stepped off
quickly with Sean leading the way. The Black Hawk lifted off the ground and
flared back, intentionally causing a large cloud of dust and sand to screen the
back drop of the running men.  The helicopter gained altitude and turned,
heading out to sea and taking a path directly over the attack boat.

Sean was the
first to reach the top berm. Just as he got there, they heard the first reports
of automatic weapons fire coming at them from the base. “Yup, right on time.
Guys like that can never leave well enough alone,” Sean said.

They ran and dove
behind the berm as poorly placed shots hit the sand around them. Brad dared to
peek over the berm and could see a small armored car and several men moving in
their direction. There was a pirate on a 12.7-millimeter gun in the armored
car’s turret. The rounds were skipping off the ground and flying over the
attack boat. Brooks dropped to his belly and brought up his rifle. A single
round discharged and the pirate on the gun dropped back into the vehicle.

Brooks and Brad
ran for the inflatable and dragged it back into the water. Sean was crouched
low, walking behind them and talking into the radio as more rounds began to
explode into the top of the berm once the armored vehicle’s gunner was
replaced. 

The
30-millimeter gun on the fast attack boat’s deck opened up and launched high
explosive projectiles at the armored car. Brad heard the
crack, crack, crack
of the rounds smacking the ground, then the
whoomp
and secondary
explosion of a hit on the armored car.

Brad leapt into
the boat behind Sean just as Brooks started the engine. He held onto the side
of the inflatable as Brooks raced it forward and made a quick lap around the
attack boat. Brooks cut the boat hard and revved the engine; they drove fast
and flew up the dive deck.

Sean tossed a
line to Swanson, who quickly tied the inflatable off to the deck. The large
boat’s engine roared and turned in the water. As the attack boat changed
direction, the forward-looking deck gun was taken off line; Sean and Brooks
stepped up to the fifty caliber machine guns on the back deck and continued to
place suppressing fire on the pirates, who were now spread out but still
firing.

The boat picked
up speed and quickly raced away from the beach and back into open water. The
SEALs stopped firing and focused their attention on strapping down the
inflatable. Sean took a headcount and verified everyone was okay before he
walked to the raft and lifted out his gear.

“What a bunch of
assholes. The world is falling apart and we still have people wanting to kill
us … and for what … a helicopter that those fucktards can’t even fly?” Sean
said, shaking his head. “Tony, make our course towards Socotra please, and
check in with the bird. Let them know we are enroute.”

“On it, Chief,”
Tony shouted back.

22.

The vessel
leveled out at a smooth thirty knots; Brad was still on the back deck looking
over the side. He had stripped down to his T-shirt and was enjoying the view.
They had decided to follow the coast south to the island of Socotra. He could
see the shore far in the distance, a tan outline of the desert coast. The sun
was shining hot on the deck but the ocean’s spray was cool and comforting.

Brad moved to a
bench near the back dive deck and sat down. He pulled his Oakley’s down over
his eyes and laid his head back. Brooks was at the controls now. Brad heard the
hatch close and looked up to see Tony make his way back onto the deck. “Mind if
I take a seat?” Tony yelled over the roar of the engines.

Brad nodded to
him, and the older man sat at the opposite end of the bench. Tony reached into
his pocket and fetched a cigarette. Cupping his hand from the stiff breeze, he
lit the end and took a long drag.

“Best thing
about being off of that platform, I can finally smoke in the open again,” Tony
said.

“That’s the best
thing? I think I’ll go with not having things trying to attack and eat me
twenty-four-seven,” Brad shouted back.

Tony pulled the
cigarette from his mouth and laughed. “Ha ha! Yeah, you’re right; I think I’d
like to change my answer.”

They both
laughed together. “You know a fishing pole and a case of beer would make this
the perfect trip. I was kind of hoping to have time to track one down back at
the last stop; a fishing pole, I mean,” Tony smiled.

Brad nodded in
agreement and settled into the bench, letting the sun’s rays warm his face.
“How long is it to Socotra?” he asked.

“Well if we can
maintain thirty, I’d say we should be there in a good fifteen hours.”

“And the Black
Hawk?”

“It won’t take
them long at their speed. We’re already out of radio range with them. This bucket
only has a shitty HF radio and we only got about twenty-five miles range. They
will be getting to the island in daylight, so hopefully they can find a nice
safe place to hide,” Tony explained.

“Unless the
stories are true and the Navy is parked there waiting with welcoming arms,”
Brad said, smiling.

“Yup, unless
that happens. Well I’m going to go scrounge up some food in the galley, you
take it easy Brad,” Tony said as he snuffed his cigarette and threw it into the
breeze.

 Brad sat
enjoying the sun for a few minutes longer before he got up and entered the
bridge, where he found Brooks sitting at the controls, leaning forward in deep
concentration. Brooks looked back and noticed that he was being observed. He
slapped the controls again and shook his head.

“Something
wrong?” Brad asked.

“Nahh, just the
damn GPS won’t lock the way I want it to. Nothing to worry about, though. Our
destination is a straight shot. We can pretty much follow the coast and run
into it,” Brooks answered.

“You picked up
any radio traffic?” Brad asked.

“Nope, not a
thing; I thought maybe closer to the shore we would at least get a radio
station but, then again, this isn’t exactly a popular spot on the planet. Maybe
as we get closer to the island.”

Brad took an
empty seat next to Brooks and looked through the windscreen at the front of the
bow to watch the open ocean of the unchanging scenery. Brad stood to look at a
map of the region showing the penciled-in lines of their route that Sean and
Brooks had drawn. They had a long way to go just to hit the island. He looked
at a cutout on the corner of the map and could see that the region was very
small when placed on an overlay of the globe.
How would they ever make it
home?
he thought.

A number of
different panels were bolted to the dash of the bridge. He could identify some
of them from his times fishing on the Great Lakes, but others were a mystery to
a ground-pounding soldier. Brad moved around looking at them, and saw what
appeared to be a radar screen, almost like the emulated one he had seen in the
tower. He asked Brooks if he could show him how it worked.

Brooks poked at
the screen, showing how to identify objects and how to distinguish surface
anomalies from actual targets. “What’s that there?” Brad asked, pointing at two
very small blips on the radar screen.

Brooks looked
closer. He pressed buttons and tuned the radar. Two small green objects were
moving on an intercept course with their vessel.

“You know, I’m
not sure, but judging from the speed and because they are in a pair … I would
wager a guess that they are military aircraft,” Brooks said, still turning
dials. “Brad, would you mind fetching the chief for me?”

Brad ran below
and found Sean passed out in one of the bunks. After rousing him, Brad told him
what they had seen on the radar, causing Sean to swing out of bed and quickly
join them on the bridge.

“What do you
got, Brooks?” Sean asked.

“Looks like a
couple of aircraft; definitely fast movers. They are on an intercept course
with us. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that they are coming right at us.”

“Change your
heading; take us straight out to sea away from the coast. And full speed,” Sean
said.

Brooks moved
back to his seat at the controls and turned the ship ninety degrees away from
the coast they had been following. Once the turn was complete, he pushed the
throttle all the way forward. The diesel engines roared and the bow rose up out
of the water as the speed of the boat almost doubled. They quickly sped away
and out of view of the coast.

Brad stood
looking at the radar screen, watching the two objects slowly change course and
stay on them. The rest of the crew had climbed up from the bow and joined them
on the deck to ask what was going on and why the hasty maneuvers.

“Go ahead and take
the speed back down and return to course, Brooks. Whatever they are, we won’t
outrun them and they’re obviously tracking us,” Sean ordered.

Brooks pushed
the throttle back down and turned the boat until it was back on the GPS heading
before he looked back at the radar.

“At this speed
and heading, Chief, we should have a visual at any minute.”

Sean opened the
door to step out onto the deck just as two jet aircraft flying low and fast
blew over them. Two quick blurs, and the roar of their engines filled the
bridge.

“All stop
Brooks, see if you can get them on the radio,” Sean yelled.

The jets flew
past at low altitude and banked together, circling around. They were now easily
identified as US F\A-18 fighter aircraft. They had slowed in speed and appeared
to float in the air as they made another pass. Sean took the radio from Brooks,
but before he could speak the speakers came alive.

“Unidentified
vessel, unidentified vessel, this is US Navy Aircraft Echo Two Seven, please
identify yourself.”

With the sound
of the radio, everyone on the deck started celebrating and high fiving. They
had finally made contact with the outside world, and not only that, but a world
that was still capable of putting fighter aircraft into the sky. Sean smiled
but put his hand up, asking for silence.

“This is Chief
Petty Officer Rogers of the United States Navy on a commandeered
Pakistani-flagged vessel. Requesting assistance,” Sean said into the handset.

“Roger that
Chief, we have been looking for you, we picked up your helicopter crew about an
hour ago.”

“Picked up? Is
everyone okay?”

“Everyone is
fine, Chief; Captain Bradley sends you his greetings. Chief … Please adjust
your heading twenty degrees east and wait for instructions.”

“Roger, can do,”
Sean called back over the radio as Brooks pulled the controls to make the
course corrections.