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Midway Island
Spectre limped across the room and handed Decker a rifle as she finished her third bottle of water. They had found the room the guards had used as a staging area a few doors down from the prisoner holding area. In it, they had found bottled water, energy bars, weapons, and clothes. They had all changed into the black tactical pants and long-sleeve black shirts. Although they fit Spectre and Graves fairly well, the smallest size they could find was still extremely baggy and loose on Decker.
After handing Decker an AK-47, Spectre grabbed a tan chest rig and pulled it over his head. It had no armor plating, but it did give him the ability to carry six extra magazines for the AK-47 and it had a chest holster for his Chinese handgun.
When she was finished, Decker tossed the empty bottle to the side and grabbed her own chest rig. She grunted as she raised her arms and slid her head through. Her body was sore from being beaten, and from the rifle round that had hit her body armor during the fight for Air Force One.
“So, are we clear on the plan?” Decker asked as Spectre helped her tighten down the chest rig against her loose clothing.
“Kill and survive,” Spectre said with a grin. “Got it.”
Decker rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Cal,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Cal replied before turning to Graves. “What about you? Do you know how to use that thing?”
Graves held up the rifle and laughed. “It’s not quite my AR-15, but it will do.”
“And you’re sure you know where the President is being held?” Decker asked.
“If they’re still keeping her in the same place, then yes,” Graves said with a shrug. “I know how to get you there at least.”
“Good enough,” Decker said. “Let’s move.”
Spectre exited the room first into the hallway. After clearing near and far, he called “Clear” and Graves and Decker entered the corridor behind him. They walked out the door and into the darkness. The rain was still steadily coming down as they stepped out into the wet and muddy grass.
Spectre stopped and gingerly took a knee as he heard sporadic gunfire in the distance. Decker stopped next to him as Graves stood behind them.
“Get down!” Spectre hissed. “Didn’t you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Graves asked as he dropped to his knees.
“Gunshots!” Spectre replied. “It’s coming from over there.” Spectre motioned toward the tree line behind them. He wondered if it were coming from Buck and his group. The reporters had slowed Buck down, he was sure of it.
“Goddammit,” Spectre whispered. “We have to go find them.”
“Cal, we can’t,” Decker said. “The President has to be our priority.”
“Then let’s go,” Spectre said. As he motioned for Graves to take the lead. Decker and Spectre followed closely, keeping their rifles up as they cleared their respective sides of the formation and intermittently took turns clearing behind them.
They crossed the small village into a narrow cluster of trees and tall grass. On the other side, they could see a newer looking building. Graves led them slowly, stopping every few steps to look and listen as they had talked about in their discussion. Although time was ticking down, they couldn’t risk getting captured or killed, so methodical stealthy movement was the only answer.
“Let’s go around it that way,” Spectre whispered to Graves as they watched the rectangular building for movement.
As they started to move, they heard a diesel engine in the distance quickly approaching. They stopped and got down low in the grass. They watched as a Humvee sped down the nearby dirt road toward the flight line.
“Do you think they have Buck?” Spectre asked.
Decker frowned. “They either have them or they’re all already dead, but we have to keep moving.”
“It’s about a quarter mile that way,” Graves said as he pointed past the trees into the darkness. “After that, you’re on your own.”
“Move,” Decker said.
The trio continued around the building through the trees. Spectre pushed through the pain in his leg as he limped through the uneven terrain. The bandage they had wrapped around it restricted his mobility even further. He knew he’d need every ounce of mobility for the upcoming mission.
As they passed the first building, they came across another set of buildings. The wildlife refuge apparently had just finished renovations on its new facilities and housing for its sixty residents shortly before losing its funding and shutting down completely. Everything appeared to be brand new construction.
They went even further off course from the straight-line course to the President’s holding location to avoid the next cluster of buildings. It was dark and hard to navigate in the rain, slowing them down further. The boots Spectre had borrowed from the hostage takers were just loose enough that his heels were starting to get blisters.
The mud turned to wet sand and rock as they moved toward the building. As they reached the clearing, Spectre could see the giant warehouse in front of them and an asphalt footpath to their left. They stopped at the edge of the tree line and observed the building. In the distance, Spectre could barely make out the water in the bay. The rain had slowed some, but it was still hard to see very far in front of them.
“There’s the Humvee that passed us,” Decker whispered as they stayed low in the brush. The Humvee was parked on the west side of the large warehouse.
“Foot patrol,” Spectre whispered. He could barely make out men on both ends of the building wearing rain gear with their rifles shouldered. “Looks like we’ve come to the right place.”
“Or a place,” Decker said. “Apparently these guys like holding hostages in different locations.”
“Only one way to find out,” Spectre said.
He suddenly turned to their left. He could hear what sounded like turbine engines in the distance. “You hear that? Sounds like a jet engine.”
Spectre looked out over the water. He could hear the sound of turbine engines spooling up and throttling back down, as if struggling to maintain glide slope on a precision approach. Seconds later, a black blob broke out of the cloud cover in the steady rain.
“Holy shit,” Spectre whispered as the blacked-out aircraft roared past them. It was a T-tail, four engine cargo aircraft that looked like an Air Force C-17 transport. The aircraft touched down firmly and then its engines howled as the pilot deployed thrust reversers and came to a stop.
A few seconds later, the aircraft did a one hundred eighty degree turn on the runway and headed back toward the approach end of the runway. The runway lights were off. The aircraft’s landing, taxi, and navigation lights were all off. Spectre realized that the aircraft had just flown a blacked-out assault landing in low ceilings and visibilities using Night Vision Goggles. He wasn’t just surprised. He was impressed.
“Friend or foe?” Decker asked as she watched Spectre.
“Although I’d like to think friend, I’m thinking it’s reinforcements for these guys,” Spectre said. “I can’t see an American mission landing here.”
“Then we need to get in there before there are more of them,” Decker said.
“You got it,” Spectre said. “Graves, you stay here and cover the perimeter like we talked about. If we need to send out hostages, you can grab them and take them to safety.”
“Cal,” Decker said as he started to move forward.
Spectre stopped and turned toward her. “Yeah?”
Decker kissed him. “Please don’t die,” she said, mimicking his plea during the battle for Air Force One.
“You either,” Spectre replied.
As the two turned to walk away, Graves spoke out. “How about we all go together?” he said from behind them.
“Wha—” Spectre started to say as he spun around. As he turned to face Graves, he found himself staring down the barrel of Graves’s AK-47.
“Drop your rifle,” Graves said. “Please.”