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They were making too much noise. They had moved slowly through the trees and brush, but to Buck, every step they took sounded like elephants marching through a forest. It was as if they tried to find and step on every stick, twig, and other noise-producing object as they snuck through the sparse vegetation. These reporters were going to get him killed.
Buck did his best to keep them quiet. The falling rain had helped muffle some of their noise, but also led to whispered complaints. He wasn’t sure if they were just stupid or oblivious to the danger they were in, but Buck was ready to let them rough it on their own.
He cursed Spectre for dumping them on him. Who was that guy anyway? He seemed to be competent enough. Buck wondered what his background was. He had obviously done more than just fly F-16s. Buck still questioned whether it was wise to intentionally withhold information from their rescuers, but Spectre had made a convincing argument.
“Why are we stopped?” one of the male reporters whispered. Buck had taken a knee in the brush near the edge of the tree line as he watched the parking lot for signs of a patrol in the darkness. The hundred or so yards worth of open space was the only thing between them and the concealment of the galley. Buck wanted to be absolutely sure that it was clear before attempting to cross it with his straggling reporters.
“Stay low and keep quiet,” Buck hissed. “We’re going to cross the parking lot to that building over there.”
The man tried to see the small shack in the distance, but the rain was too heavy to see that far. “I don’t see it,” he replied.
“Everyone, get ready to move. We’re going to run. Just stay close to me,” Buck whispered.
Buck raised the AK-47 and checked the select fire switch. He set it to automatic, thinking that laying down suppressing fire would be their best chance at survival if they were to encounter a patrol while sprinting to the galley. He had seen it in a movie once, which was as much training as he’d been given on the weapon.
After making sure everyone was ready, Buck crouched and took a final look around. When he was sure there weren’t any hostiles in the area, he took off running in the direction of the galley.
As he ran across the open lot, Buck took several looks over his shoulder to make sure the others were keeping up. They had allowed some distance to build between their intervals while doing their best to keep up. Looking back toward the galley, Buck could start to make out the silhouette of the small building.
Buck nearly froze as they reached the halfway point. He saw two lights bouncing off the right side of the building. Shit! Patrol! Buck tried his best to slow down and stop, but the reporters struggling to keep up couldn’t handle the sudden change and nearly ran into him as he desperately searched for a new place of cover. They were exposed in the open.
“What are you doing?” the reporter behind him yelled over the pouring rain. “Why are you stopping?”
Buck had no time to try to shut the reporter up. He was desperately searching for a place to hide and he could see the lights turn toward them. In the distance, Buck found another set of buildings. He hadn’t seen them on his ingress to the school, but this time he had taken a different route. He had no idea what to expect, but anything was better than standing out in the open.
“Follow me! Let’s go!” Buck ordered as quietly as he could as he took off running.
“Where are you going?” the man behind him yelled.
Buck looked back to see the reporters struggle to keep up. Seconds later, he heard gunfire. They had been spotted.
“Run!” Buck yelled, giving up all semblance of stealth. They had to get to cover quickly. He could see the buildings just thirty yards away.
Rounds peppered the ground around him as Buck heard more gunshots. As he looked back, he saw the female reporter drop and roll under her own momentum. Buck felt a sense of panic as he spun back around.
“Keep going to that building!” he yelled as he pointed to the set of two-story buildings in front of them.
He raised his rifle and fired in the direction of the patrol at the galley. The bullets sprayed wildly, but nowhere near their attackers.
“Please help me,” the woman cried as she lay on the gravel parking lot. Buck could see that she had been shot in the shoulder, but he had no time for first aid. He needed to get her to cover.
Buck pulled the AK-47 around his neck and slung it around his back. Being a small-framed woman, Buck easily picked her up and hoisted her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. His legs burned as he ran toward the building. More bullets were fired in their direction as Buck pushed harder.
He ran as hard as he could with the dead weight, nearly catching up to the lumbering reporter carrying the handgun as they neared the building. As he got closer, it appeared to be a rundown hotel. The windows were broken and busted and it appeared the boards that once covered the doorway had rotted away.
Buck heard more gunshots zip by as he neared the others. They had reached the first-floor office of the hotel and crawled in through the open window. As Buck stopped to hand the woman over to the reporter waiting on the other side, he felt a searing pain in his hip as he heard more gunshots.
Falling forward, Buck dropped the woman. The pain was worse than anything he’d ever felt. The two male reporters pulled the woman through the window as Buck tried to arrest his fall. When she was through the window, they climbed out and picked him up to drag him inside.
Buck started to lose consciousness as he felt himself scrape along the concrete. He could feel them trying to drag him forward by his arms, but he couldn’t understand what they were yelling at him as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Seconds later, the world seemed to drift away into darkness.