Deathrace

26

Murdock moved his SEALs along at six miles an hour for the first quarter mile, then Doc Ellsworth caught up with him.

"Skipper, Magic can't stand the pace. Better cut it down to four mph or we'll be carrying the big guy."

"It's that bad?"

"It is. I'd give him a week of bed rest if I could."

"Stay with him. Have him give the fifty, and the ammo he has left, to somebody else."

"Will do, L-T."

Murdock slowed the pace to what he knew was a mile every fifteen minutes. After another ten minutes he called a halt.

"Check things out. Arrange your gear. Take a quick break. Holt, unpack that radio and let's give it a shot."

Three minutes later, Murdock had his message typed out on the screen. He read it again. "Bankrupt, the word is bankrupt. All is well, coming home. Murdock."

He pushed the send button and the machine encrypted the message and shot it out in a burst that transmitted for only a tenth of a second. Bankrupt was the code word meaning the plant, and the bombs, had all been totally destroyed. "Wait for a response?" Holt asked.

"Give them two minutes, then we're moving."

No response came. Murdock had checked his men. Ed DeWitt had done the same. Magic Brown was hurting. He was going to cost them a lot of time before they got wet.

They had heard no response from the nuclear plant. There had been no sound of any troops following them the first half mile. Now they had wound over and around hills, and any sound of pursuit would be hushed. They marched out again. Murdock dropped back beside Kat. "How's it going?"

"Fine. Remember I can out-hike, outrun, out-swim any of your guys. Don't worry about me. I am aware that I haven't fired a shot in anger yet, and I'm still packing this twenty pounds of armament and ammo."

"Hey, maybe it's seven pounds, plus another six for ammo. You're lucky." He paused and watched her in the darkness. "You want to be in a firefight?"

"Not sure, but in the next fifty miles, I'd say it's more than likely that I'll find out. Right?"

"Right. Remember the damned safety." He grinned, and went back to lead the platoon just in back of the scout.

They worked down a slope, and then along a valley for another mile. Murdock checked with Lampedusa. He had a sense about direction, and the best compass in the outfit.

"We're working a little southeast, but I correct every chance I get," Lam said. "This valley looked too damn tempting to pass up."

"I agree. Magic is hurting, that's why we slowed it down. Keep no more than a hundred yards out front."

They hiked on over the barren, rocky hills and gullies, down occasional valleys, and then up slopes again.

Murdock knew they were leaving a trail. Seventeen people couldn't move across this land and not leave a path any child could follow. They made two more miles.

Murdock thought he heard someone behind them in one long valley. He sent Jaybird Sterling back as a rear guard.

"Just hold here for ten minutes, then come along slowly. If you hear or see anything behind us, shag ass up front, and let us know."

Jaybird nodded and began walking to the rear. Murdock grinned, and went back to the front of the column.

Magic Brown's leg was worse. He walked with a decided limp now and had shucked off all of his equipment, including the combat vest. It was all he could do to keep up at a three-miles-an-hour pace. That meant anyone following them must be gaining.

Murdock turned the problem over in his mind again. Not much they could do to speed up Magic. What they had to do was slow down anyone coming behind them.

He watched the landscape. Lam had them leave a narrow gorge and angle over a sharp hill. Just as they topped it, Murdock had what he wanted. He told Lam to get all the men over the ridgeline, and then hold them. He waited for Jaybird to come.

"Got company all right, L-T. Guess they are about two miles behind us. Can't be sure, but it could be forty or fifty men, maybe more."

"Get Adams up here. Let's have a welcome-home party for our Iranian hosts. Get two of those Claymore mines we brought. Have Adams set them on trip wires about a third of the way up the slope. Put two of them in sequence and aim the blasts to go downhill. Then get your asses back up here."

Murdock told the rest of them the plan and had them spread out along the ridgeline just over the top on the reverse slope. As soon as the mines went off, the whole platoon would fire into the same area, hoping to waste anyone left standing.

Murdock settled down beside Kat. She had her MP-5 up and ready.

"This is good for fifty yards with the silencer," Kat said. "Why don't we take the silencers off? No need for quiet out here."

"Good idea." He sent word on the Motorola to have half the men with MP-5's remove the silencer and put them in their packs.

Murdock checked his watch. It was after 0120. A long time to daylight. They waited.

For a moment, Murdock caught the sound of equipment jangling. That had to come from the Iranians.

Jaybird and Al Adams rolled over the ridge, and found places along the shooting line.

"All set, L-T," Jaybird reported.

"We all fire when the second Claymore goes off, Murdock said. "Don't wait for me. Fire on that second blast."

Five minutes later they could hear some talk from below.

A cough.

Then someone called out in Farsi.

"Said something about hurry up, too slow," Franklin reported.

Two minutes more.

The Iranian hillside blossomed with a jagged red-and-yellow light and a rolling, cracking explosion as the first Claymore detonated. The flash of light faded in a few seconds, but the shrill cries of pain and desperation echoed up the hill. The sound of the first explosion had almost faded when the second blast tore through the night.

A half second later sixteen weapons fired down the slope. Murdock had his MP-5 set on three rounds and the silencer off. He chattered out six rounds and looked over at Kat.

She held the weapon tightly, stared down the sights, and at last squeezed the trigger. It spat out three rounds. She nodded, moved the muzzle slightly, and fired again. Then Murdock went back to his own weapon and emptied one magazine, before he hit his mike three times, ending the shooting.

"We moving down there?" DeWitt asked.

"No," Murdock said, making up his mind in a nanosecond. "Let's saddle up and get out of here. Lam out front. Come on, move. Some of the survivors might still come after us." The platoon heard the order on their radios, and quickly moved down the hill, away from the slaughter, half expecting some return fire from survivors who would work their way up the hill and fire blindly in revenge.

After a half mile, they figured no one was going to shoot back at them.

"An even bet that they will wait for dawn, and count up their casualties, then try to get their wounded back to the nuke plant," Murdock said on the radio. "Meantime we make tracks until dawn ourselves, then figure out what to do."

Murdock checked on Magic. He was still walking, but his left arm was over Horse Ronson's shoulder.

"Hell, we can keep up with you Boy Scouts," Magic said. But Murdock heard the voice nearly crack. There was none of the usual bluster the big black man was so good at projecting. They kept walking.

At 0300, Murdock called a break.

Doc changed the bandage on Magic's left leg. He shook his head. It was still bleeding. He put a heavy pressure pad over the wound and wrapped it tightly. The bleeding stopped. He checked his watch. Too soon for another morphine shot.

By the time Doc finished binding up Magic's leg, he had dropped off to sleep. Doc went to Murdock.

"Can we give Magic an hour to sleep? He went out like a baby. He's damn weak, L-T."

"We've got two hours to dawn. He can sleep then. Let him have a half hour, then we get out of here. We've got to find a spot to hole up for the daylight hours."

Murdock had Douglas come up front.

"You said you saw a high-wing Piper Cub-type spotter plane. There wasn't any place I saw near the bomb plant where they could land one. Did it come up from Chah Bahar?"

"My guess is that they have a small dirt strip somewhere in back of the plant. You can land those things on two hundred yards, sometimes less. A bulldozer and two days would scrape out a workable landing field."

"So, it will be in the air at first light. We need to be dug in somewhere. Thanks, Douglas. You and Franklin did an outstanding job going into Tehran. Have to tell me sometime how you got fifteen hundred miles down here."

Douglas waved, and went back to his spot in the Second Squad formation.

They called a halt at 0530. It wasn't dawn yet. Lampedusa had found a craggy little canyon with lots of twists and turns and places where the cloudbursts had sent torrents down the place, carving out holes, sharp edges, and sinks.

"Just like before," Murdock said on the Motorola. "Find yourself a hole and crawl in. Have your camo cloth ready to cover up for the spotter plane. Anybody have any trouble, give a yell."

Murdock watched Kat. She was the first one to pick a spot, settle in a hollow, and pull the camo cloth over her, right up to her eyes. He eased down beside her.

"You get in any rounds back up there?"

"Yep."

"Hit anybody?"

"Don't know. Actually I don't want to know. I fired the damn weapon like I was supposed to." There was a sharpness in her tone. He looked at her but she didn't say anything more.

"Right. You did fine. Some sleep wouldn't hurt." Murdock checked the covers for each of his people. Ed did the same. Murdock said he'd take the first watch of two hours. They'd be in place all day, so some sleep would be good. "If we hear that spotter plane, I'll give some clicks on your Motorola."

He watched the sixteen settle down. Within ten minutes he had trouble remembering who was where. Most of them he couldn't pick out from twenty yards away. He found his own spot where the water had dug out a two-foot-deep gully and squirmed into it. He sat with his back against the end of the hole and watched.

"Murdock," Kat said softly. She was about ten feet away.

"Yes."

"You do good work."

"Thanks, Kat. So do you."

She was quiet then and Murdock turned to watch a small tarantula moving up on a large beetle. It would be no contest once the tarantula got its stinging tail working.

An hour later he heard the first buzz of an airplane motor.

"People, Third Platoon. We have company. A wee aircraft somewhere to the north. Not sure how far away or if he's coming our direction. Just want to be sure you know he's about. DeWitt, take a squad check."

Murdock listened as all seven of his squad members checked in. Murdock did the same for First Squad. They reported in order of march.

"So, everyone's awake, we'll see where our little buddy airplane goes."

It was quiet then. Now and then they could hear a whisper from a soft breeze that missed them in the gully, and the call of an occasional bird. Murdock didn't remember seeing a bird since they had landed in this desolate spot. Must be a desert hawk or a vulture of some kind.

The tarantula struck once, and the stunned beetle turned toward it. The second lash of the tail penetrated the beetle's shell, and a moment later the black bug collapsed on its legs and the tarantula moved up for its meal.

The sound of the plane came closer. Murdock moved lower in his hole and pulled the camo cloth up higher. He wished he had brought some binoculars. Next time.

A moment later the aircraft flew directly over them across the gully, so the pilot or observer would have only a few seconds to look into the ravine.

"Surprise," Murdock said in his mike. "Check your cover, he'll be back. Don't think he can see our foot tracks from even that altitude, but can't be sure. Next time we wipe out our tracks before we hole up."

They waited fifteen minutes and couldn't hear the plane.

"Doubt if he'll be back now," Murdock radioed. "Let's get some sleep."

He looked over at the small animal war. The victor had eaten and left. There was nothing remaining of the big black beetle but the hard shell and two spindly legs.

Survival.

That's what life is all about. Especially for the Third Platoon right now. Survival. His job was to get his men, and Kat, out of Iran without losing anyone.

Survival.

"Murdock?"

It was Kat.

"You don't sound asleep."

"Not nearly. How many men did you say Iran has under arms?"

"Over half a million."

"Oh, damn. And only seventeen of us."

The silence stretched out.

"Logically, it seems that they should be able to throw a couple of thousand troops between us and the coast, stop us cold."

"It would seem so, wouldn't it, Kat?"

"Hey, Lieutenant. I know you and your men are good — hell, the best at this kind of work. But the odds of a thousand to one say there really isn't much you can do."

"Kat, they have to find us before they can stop us."

"After last night's hit on their people, they will damn well know which direction we're headed."

"True, Kat. True. They still have to find us."

Another silence.

"How long before they fly in the reserves? What will it be, paratroopers dropping in on us out of the daytime sky?"

"Probably. And trucked-in troops when we get down far enough that there are a few roads into this barren, desert wilderness."

"Murdock, we practiced that chopper rescue at sea, when we went up the rope ladder. Couldn't they do that on land just as well, or even set down on a gully floor somewhere?"

"Could. But then you have an open overflight of a foreign military force. Plainly an invasion of a sovereign nation. The brass doesn't like to do that sort of thing."

"Remember that old World War Two movie, They Were Expendable?"

"I remember the title. We're not in that class. The SEALs never leave one man behind on a battlefield, let alone a whole fucking platoon."

"Sorry, guess I'm thinking too much."

"Never hurts to think, Kat."

"Yeah, maybe. I'm done thinking. I'm gonna snore."

Murdock chuckled. "You do that. I'll never tell."

"Murdock?"

"Sure."

"You said we never leave a man behind. What if a two-hundred-forty-pound man got killed. Say today. How can we carry that man's body out forty miles without compromising the rest of the platoon?"

"Point taken. I buried one SEAL on foreign soil. Last mission we towed a body through the surf and out to sea for a submarine pickup. I didn't like either job. I'm going to do my damnedest to see that I don't have to do either one of them again."

"But it could happen?"

"Absolutely."

"Good night, Murdock."

"Yeah, dreams of D.C."

Murdock looked over to where Kat lay, but for a moment couldn't find her. Then the ground moved slightly, her camo cover. He nodded, and stared down their back trail. They were on the side of the gully well off the small valley's floor. He could see over two small ridges they had climbed.

His head snapped to one side as he refocused on one spot along the back trail. Had he seen a flash of light? He concentrated on the area, and it came again, a flash of sunlight off something.

Off what? An Iranian soldier's unblued rifle barrel? A shiny unit metal pin?

He estimated the distance. Not more than two miles. Could there be a force of Iranian infantry that close to them? There was no way their tracks directly to this ravine could be missed by a land unit.

Murdock spoke softly into his mike. "DeWitt, we may have a problem. Check the back trail. Thought I saw some sun flashes back there."

"I'm looking," DeWitt said. "So far nothing."

"I'm higher on the ravine," Jaybird said. "Let me give it a five-minute scan. If they have a unit that close, we just jumped into a sinkhole of deep shit."