Brainrush by Richard Bard
“I don’t feel any vibra—”
“Tony, it’s important!”
Tony didn’t argue. He opened one of the flip covers on Jake’s backpack and handed him a slim flashlight.
The shrill oscillating sound was like a steam whistle that was only occasionally getting enough steam to sound its loudest. It was in tune with the gusts of wind screaming up the mountain. But the vibration Jake felt under the whistle was a constant and steady low-pitched hum.
Jake aimed the flashlight at the shadowed cleft in the face of the rock. The dust-filled wind obscured its beam, but Jake saw enough to confirm his suspicions. There was a car-size opening in the rock wall.
Tony yelled into his ear. “We’re runnin’ outta time!”
Tony was right. Jake shook his head, forcing himself to ignore the vibration. He hit the up button and continued their ascent.
They were only a hundred feet from the top when Kenny’s panic-laced voice filled Jake’s earbud. “Tangos are swarming on the ridge!”
Jake stopped their ascent and snapped open the flap on his wrist screen. There were several red dots moving toward the team’s position overhead. Suddenly, there was a loud explosion on the ledge above. The rope lost tension, and they dropped five or six feet before lurching to a violent stop. Jake’s stomach was in his throat. He watched the rope next to them plummet out of the sky like an angry serpent, the mangled remains of the tubular A-frame following in its wake. It shrieked past them amidst a shower of rocks and gravel. Jake threw his arms over his head for protection, and his forearms were pelted by debris.
It stopped as quickly as it started, and Jake opened his eyes to find Tony limp in his harness, his goggled eyes rolled back in his head. Blood trailed down his forehead from beneath his turban.
Chapter 36
Hindu Kush Mountains, Afghanistan - 2:50 a.m.
BECKER AND AZIM had been the first up the ropes. They’d hurried inland to scout their position.
Taking cover behind a large boulder, Becker studied the Raven’s overhead view on his helmet-mounted HUD. Azim was at his side, the mujahedin warrior as strong as a pack horse, carrying all of the explosives and two heavy canisters of fifty-cal ammo for the remote-control machine guns.
A large clearing spread out before them, the high peaks on either side outlined by the star-filled night. The wind had calmed; the ridge guided the currents from the sandstorm up and over them. The chill mountain air was deadly quiet. Becker caught the faint scent of goat feces nearby.
Treading the earth in the deepest hours of night, weaving through rocky crags and scrub brush, silent and watchful—for Becker it was like returning to his roots in the outback. When he was twelve, his parents had died, and his aboriginal grandfather had taken him on his first of a countless number of walkabouts designed to shed the stain of city living from his psyche. He’d learned the ways of his ancestors, to live not on the land but with the land, to become a part of the cycle of life in the wild.
Becker switched his HUD to night vision and analyzed the terrain in front of them. The relatively flat clearing widened to the size of a large soccer field, the area likely used by Battista’s men for games or training exercises. This would be the killing ground. He studied the perimeter. Like an oblong bowl, it was surrounded by towering walls of granite on its left side and a steep, rocky slope of loose stone on the right, the bottom of which was littered with a patchwork of car-size boulders, offering excellent pockets for concealment.
The far end of the clearing lay two hundred yards away, where the only other entrance to the bowl narrowed to a winding cleft less than two yards wide, with sheer canyon walls towering up either side. That was the path that would bring reinforcements from the village and the lower caverns, and that was the target for his first trap.
The main cavern entrance—where Jake and Tony would be going in—was cut into the base of the granite wall at the far left end of the clearing. His HUD revealed the heat signatures of two guards posted in front.
“Wait here for the fire team and the rest of the equipment,” he whispered. He pointed to two positions, one on each extreme side of the clearing. “Tell them to set up the turrets there and there.” As he slung Azim’s explosive packs onto his shoulder, he added, “I’ll be back in a jiff, mate. Keep your head down.”
Becker disappeared into the darkness, keeping a watchful eye on the two guards at the entrance as he padded his way through the maze of boulders on the right edge of the clearing.
He returned ten minutes later to find Azim, Papa, and Juice in cover positions among the rocks. Maria had crawled up the slope above them, keeping an eye on the two guards at the cave entrance through the nightscope on her Dragunov sniper rifle. The turrets were in place and ready. Jake and Tony should be up the ropes anytime now.
Juice appeared around the corner with the smoke-generating ATV slung over one of his massive shoulders. He carried the eighty-five-pound vehicle with about as much effort as a young boy carrying his toy truck. Becker had him position it so that it had an open path all the way across the clearing.
He surveyed the kill zone. Everything was in place for their exit. According to their intel, the enemy could come at them only from the south, through this clearing. When the time came, his team could hold them off for quite a while.
Kenny’s warning over the radio revealed how wrong he was. Twin explosions pierced the quiet from the cliff face to their rear. It was followed by the chatter of several AK-47s.
Their exit route was compromised.
Chapter 37
Hindu Kush Mountains, Afghanistan - 3:00 a.m.
THE BLAST WAVE from the two grenades lifted Tark clean off his feet. Shaken, he scrambled behind a large boulder at the cliff’s edge as the first rounds from the AK-47s hammered into the earth around him.
Willie hadn’t been so lucky. He lay limp and twisted near the sagging remains of one of the mini-cranes, his chest and shoulder riddled with smoking holes. Blood ran down his neck from a shrapnel wound that had peeled back several inches of his scalp above his right ear. His helmet was missing. So was the second mini-crane.
Switching to his weapon-mounted camera, Tark held his HK over the boulder. He used his HUD to spot five tangos rushing down out of the rocks, firing wildly. He returned a quick burst to slow them down, yelling into his helmet mike. “I think Willie’s dead! Jake and Sarge never made it up, and I’m pinned down on the ledge. I count five tangos coming down from the southeastern ridge line. They’re screaming over their radios for reinforcements.”
Snake responded from the clearing. “Ripper and I are on our way back. ETA three minutes.”
“Shit, man. This thing’s gonna be over in thirty seconds.”
As if to emphasize the point, a barrage of AK rounds blasted chips from the edge of the rock behind him.
Tark looked at Willie’s tattered body and choked back his anger. Gritting his teeth, he emptied his magazine in a focused spray over the top off the rock. The suppressed spits of his HK were barely audible over the AK’s reverberating cracks. The return fire faded. The tangos exchanged shouted commands, their voices getting closer. They had him, and they knew it. His only way out was over the edge.
Tark still wore his reserve chute.
He’d grab Willie’s body on the way over.
With his back to the rock, he coiled his muscles, sucking air into his lungs as he readied for the sprint of his life. His eyes focused on his longtime partner, his limbs splayed at awkward angles, blood dripping from his earlobe. I’d have a better chance if I left Willie’s body—
Willie’s eyes popped open, pale white orbs within a blood-red mask. He gave Tark a dull glance, and the corner of his lips twitched up in a weak smile. Then his eyes froze when he saw the tangos moving toward him from rocks behind Tark’s cover position.
Tark had only moments to react. He patted the air in a silent signal for Willie to stay still. Willie blinked once in response. Tark threw up the okay
Tark shouted over the rocks, “Hold your fire. I give up!”
The gunfire stopped and one of the tangos called out in thickly accented English, “American, throw weapon, stand slow!”
Tark threw his HK over the rock. He stretched his hands as high as he could above his head and stood up. Before the tangos could say anything, he walked toward them and away from Willie, crying out, “I surrender. Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot!”
“Stop!” one of the tangos shouted.
Tark ignored the command and kept walking forward to increase the distance from Willie’s position. He squealed like a scared child, “Please don’t hurt me!”
One of the tangos fired his AK into the ground at Tark’s feet. “Stop now!”
Tark sank to his knees in the dirt, his eyes pleading, his hands locked behind his neck. All five tangos moved forward and surrounded him.
That was their first mistake.
The lead tango spat through his thick beard at Tark’s upraised face. He followed that with a swift kick to the jaw that sent Tark sprawling to the ground.
That was their last mistake.
Tark hugged the ground, welcoming the sounds of the rapid-fire spits of Willie’s silenced HK. Willie unloaded an entire magazine on the tightly bunched group. At that range, the kinetic energy of the HK’s 5.56 NATO rounds dropped them like bowling pins. The flailing bodies jerked and twisted from the impacts.
Tark snap-rolled to his back. He pulled his M9 pistol from his hip holster and fired into the heads of the falling terrorists.
It was over in four seconds.
Tark rushed over to Willie. He’d propped himself up against the frame of the bent mini-crane. “Where’re you hurt?”
“My shoulder’s on fire, and my head’s screaming like a son of a bitch. The Dragon Skin saved my ass from the worst of it. I’ll make it.”
“I thought you were toast. I almost left you.”
“Yeah, well, that’s a few more beers you owe me, then, ain’t it?”
“Damn straight.” Tark wrapped a dark-gray camo dressing around Willie’s scalp wound.
His partner’s body armor was riddled with shrapnel holes across the chest. He would have been torn to shreds if it weren’t for the specially layered armor that resembled overlapping dragon scales. But the vest didn’t cover his shoulder, where two deep gouges in the meat of his upper arm oozed blood. Tark snapped the cap off a pre-filled hypo and plunged the local anesthetic into Willie’s shoulder. Using a field dressing on the wound, he cinched it tight with three swift wraps around the arm.
Kenny’s agitated voice filled his headset. “Tark, more tangos just appeared out of nowhere from the rocks above your position. There’s got to be a tunnel entrance up there that we didn’t know about!”
“What about Jake and Sarge?”
“They’re okay for now. You’ve got to focus on that tunnel.”
Tark grabbed Willie’s good arm and helped him up. “Time to go!”
Chapter 38
Hindu Kush Mountains, Afghanistan - 3:03 a.m.
JAKE’S SHOCK AT THE SUDDEN TURN of events froze him into momentary inaction—that is, until the sound of heavy gunfire erupted on the ledge above them.
Going up was no longer an option.
Jake checked Tony’s pulse. He was still alive, but he didn’t look good. Rivulets of blood oozed from under his head wrap.
The explosion must have partially dislodged the mini-crane that supported them because the rope now hung only inches from the rock face. That made it awkward to use the APEX without scraping along the rock. Jake would need to keep from snagging his feet on the way down, especially with the added weight of Tony’s unconscious body.
Jake kicked off the mountain and flicked the down button on the APEX.
He established a rappelling rhythm in their descent, swinging them out and away with the motorized APEX switched on for a second or two and then stopping for another kick as they swung back into the mountain. Each arc dropped them nine or ten feet. Jake repeated the process, eager to get clear of the threat above. At this rate, however, it was going to take them way too long to get to the bottom. Instead, he stopped their descent when they were level with the hidden tunnel they’d passed earlier.
After confirming the aperture’s position with his flashlight, Jake crabbed across the rock face toward the entrance. Sweat beaded on his brow as his fingers and toes fought to find grips among the too-few cracks and crevasses of the smooth rock. They were three feet from the opening when the rope snagged on something beneath them. Steadying his grip on the wall with his left hand, Jake reached down with his right hand to tug it free.
It wouldn’t budge.
Knowing that he was literally cutting off their only means of getting to the ground, Jake pulled out his knife, flicked open the blade, and sawed through the rope just beneath the APEX. The rope snapped apart and disappeared into the darkness below.
He found a handhold and pulled himself just inside the mouth of the tunnel. But by then the rope was extended to its limit and the APEX was scraping along the upper lip of the rocky opening. The front soles of Jake’s boots barely touched the floor of the opening.
He swiveled precariously on his toes as Tony’s bulk threatened to pull them back out. With a final surge of energy, he spun Tony around and hit the down button. The APEX’s gears corkscrewed through the last twelve inches of rope, and the two of them collapsed to the floor, Tony’s legs spilling over the edge.
After sucking in a lungful of air, Jake grabbed Tony’s shoulder harness and dragged him several yards into the cave. He unwound Tony’s head wrap and wadded it up into a pillow under his head. There was a swollen lump and a good-sized gash in his scalp above his forehead. The bleeding had slowed. Jake treated and wrapped the wound with materials from Tony’s field pack.
Jake checked in with the team. “Kenny, give me a status update.”
“Jeez, there you are. What happened to you guys?”
“Kenny, status first.”
“Right. Tark and Wil—shit! Stand by!” Jake listened as Kenny issued a warning to Tark and Willie about additional tangos who had just popped up on the ridge above them. There was another tunnel entrance at their flank. They needed to seal it fast.
Jake’s mind spun as he considered options. He aimed his flashlight into the cave. The opening narrowed to a tunnel angling up into the mountain. When there was a pause in the radio chatter, Jake said, “Becker, are you up?”
“I hear you, mate.”
“Status?”
“Everything’s in place, except for one serious wrinkle. Check your screen.”
Jake looked down at his cuff screen. He could see Becker, Azim, Juice, and Maria in position in front of the upper cavern. But he also saw several lines of red dots moving their way through the hills from the village below.
“They knew we were coming, boss. Based on where these guys were positioned, they probably assumed we’d arrive through the village. But as soon as their patrol stumbled across Tark and Willie up top, the main bunch started moving this way. ETA—twelve minutes.”
Battista knew we were coming?
Azim! He was the only unknown element in their plan. Remembering that the traitor wasn’t hooked in to their comm, Jake said, “Becker, it’s got to be Azim. I need you and Papa to find out how much he told them.”
Jake heard the anger in Becker’s growl. “Understood.”
Jake paused a moment, considering the weight of his next words. “Hold off closing the pass until the last possible moment. We need to take out as many as we can with the blast.”
Jake’s mind sorted through all the possibilities. Could they do this in spite of the setbacks? If he could get to the computer room and set the chip, they’d still have a chance. His one remaining advantage was this ancient tunnel, assuming it connected into the complex. He doubted Battista and his men even knew it existed.
“Kenny, tie in Marshall and Cal,” Jake ordered. Once they were on, he gave them an update of his status and Tony’s condition. “Listen up. I’m going to try to make it into the facility from here. While I do, you guys are going to have to figure out a way to evac Tony down the cliff.”
Kenny was quick to reply. “I’ve already got some ideas.”
Jake appreciated Kenny’s confidence. He was worried sick about Tony.
“We’re going to lose radio contact once I move into the mountain, so you won’t hear from me until I can set the chip in the computer room and tie in to their comm. If that doesn’t happen in the next twenty minutes, it’s not going to happen at all. If so, pull the team back and bug out.”
Marshall broke in. “But Jake—”
“Marsh, there’s no other choice. Once we blow the pass, Battista’s army will backtrack and find their way over the rocks. When they do, it’s all over. The team’s got to be out before that happens.”
There was a pause on the other end. “Jake, just set the damn chip, find the girls, and get the hell out of there!”
“Yeah, piece of cake.”
Chapter 39
Hindu Kush Mountains, Afghanistan - 3:00 a.m.
FURIOUS, BATTISTA STORMED BACK and forth beneath the row of video displays in the war room. There were a dozen men scattered throughout the room, several standing by for instructions while their superiors discussed their next move. Carlo stood to the side, leaning against the wall.
“I thought the cliff could not be climbed!” Battista said, pointing at Abdullah.
“They had some sort of apparatus at the top that pulled them up.” Abdullah turned his attention to the wall map, escaping Battista’s glare. “We believe it was destroyed in the firefight on the ledge. But we aren’t certain since we lost contact with our first patrol.”
The knuckles of Battista’s clenched fists were white. Abdullah rushed to continue. “As you suggested from your source, it appears the Americans are unaware of the upper tunnel exit. That’s how our first patrol surprised them.” He pointed to one of the surveillance monitors on the wall where a large force of heavily armed men ran down one of the tunnels. “I have twenty men on their way there now. They should arrive any second. Also, we’re moving everyone from the lower caverns and village up to the clearing.”