“And Sergeant, if for one moment, for one single instance, York loses it — if he snaps or does something to endanger your men, you know what to do,” Reynolds said, leaning in again, staring hard at the battle veteran.
“Colonel?”
“Put a bullet in his head, Sergeant Comstock. You got me? You understand? If York does something to fuck up your mission, put him down.”
“Fair enough,” Dale said. “And the Russian? I don’t trust her.”
“Elizabeth does.”
“That doesn’t mean I do,” Dale said right back.
“Then do the same. You have my blessing. If she does something to hinder this mission, or something that gets your men killed, shoot her too.”
“All right, then I guess I’ll deal with it. Hopefully it won’t come to that.”
“For everyone’s sake, let’s pray it doesn’t.”
Dale thought on it awhile. The thought of putting down a fellow member of The Unit was insane, something he couldn’t imagine. A woman, too. Dale Comstock was a professional, patriotic, a man who did his best to ensure innocent people didn’t die. It happened, sure, but Dale worked hard to avoid innocent deaths. He wasn’t a man to hold grudges, either. In Afghanistan, it’s easy to become racist, anti-Muslim, anti-third world country. With this mission, it would be easy to hold York and the Russian woman in contempt. Hate is the enemy, and Dale tried to change his view on the pair. He didn’t want to go in with his mind on anything other than the mission — whatever the hell it was.
“Super-soldiers,” Dale mumbled. “It’s hard to believe. Sounds like a horror flick.”
“It does. But Sergeant, it’s no joke. We have York’s testimony, and I personally believe it. He saw something… many things that weren’t human. They killed his men. You must realize that what you’re up against isn’t your normal soldier. It’s something more wild, something beastlike, maybe.”
“That Russian scientist talked about them breeding. That’s why we’re going in, right?”
“Yes, because if they continue breeding, their presence will eventually be known.”
“Can we even carry enough ammo? What if there are dozens, hundreds? How will they attack? What are their methods? Do they use weapons?” Dale had many questions.
“York will provide that when he decides it’s time. If he doesn’t, we already talked about the matter. Now, let me ask you a question: What’s the most important rule of an assassination?”
“Shit, I don’t know…”
“You take out the assassin.”
“Sounds easy.”
“Yeah, they make it sound easy. Remember, many have tried it. To your advantage, those teams knew less than yours does. That’ll help, I hope.”
“But if they couldn’t get in twenty-six years ago, and Elizabeth saying that they might not only be breeding, but evolving…”
“Sergeant Comstock, you’ll be entering the Bermuda Triangle on steroids. Imagine this — few nations know, and the ones who do are scared to death of what lives in that valley. The question is, why?”
“Monsters,” Dale laughed.
“You laugh, but they wiped out over twenty Spetsnaz, and that was right when the chemical was reacting. That was the first generation of these things. Tore the helicopters to shreds, damaged a jet flying overhead, fast too.”
“I swear, I feel as if I’ll wake up from this dream any minute now,” Dale said.
“It gets worse. My sources tell me the Soviets sent in two more teams over the years. Dozens of Spetsnaz, more covert, ready for anything. Met the same fate. Reports were these things weren’t human. And then SAS, Mossad, other Spec Op groups. Until York survived, nobody could get close.”
Dale shook his head in disbelief. “So, everyone’s tried it and now it’s our turn?”
“Pretty much.”
“To die,” Dale said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
“I hope your tactics, your methods, will change the rules a bit. Besides, we have an ace in the hole. Something nobody else had before.”
“Sergeant York,” Dale Comstock said.
Colonel Reynolds nodded his head.
CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE AGENCY
time:1500 hours zulu
78
“I guess I have nothing,” Elizabeth said. She didn’t like this one bit. “You’re in. Okay? Happy now?”
York grinned, “I am.”
“You try to pull any hotdog shit, you’ll be pulled. Don’t care what information you might have, you’ll obey your orders.”
“I will. Promise,” he said with a smile.
“Well, I suppose that concludes our meeting. We’ll be drilling the team all week. We’ll be sending you in a week, so tomorrow will be your first day of freedom.”
Elizabeth began to stand up, to leave the room. Before she could, York spoke again.
“Know what’s funny about this?”
“Nothing is funny about this,” she responded, pausing, then sitting back down.
“Oh, but ya have to find some humor in it. Here’s the thing about this war. Back in the states, the people, the media, even the fucking politicians think the Afghanis are fighting for national pride, for their country.”
“I know. We’ve been over this,” she replied, annoyed. “It’s about territory.”
“Have you ever ridden through the ghettos of LA, New Orleans, maybe Chicago?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“I have. And for a white boy like me, that’s a good way to get killed.”
“It’s pretty stupid, if you ask me. What’s the point?”
“The point is, whatever they pumped these people full of changed them, but not necessarily how you think. If you think the Taliban are territorial, if you think they’re violent, you can’t imagine these things. They’re worse than any gang, worse than any terrorist cell.”
“Save it,” she retorted. “I already said you’re in. You got your way.”
“You don’t get it. I’m trying to warn you.”
“Of what?”
“That we won’t be coming back.”
Elizabeth paused, not knowing what to say.
“Imagine walking into the worst gang infested neighborhood, filled with ravenous dogs. Worse, even. Sneak up to a pride of lions and snatch a cub and see what they do to you.”
“Then why go in? Why put yourself in harm’s way? Why not just tell me what I need to know?”
“You know why I’m going in, ma’am.”
“Yeah, it’s because you have a death wish,” she fired back.
All emotion vacated York’s face, his eyes glazing over, trance-like. He drifted, remembering.
“Sergeant York, are you all right?” Elizabeth asked.
“They weren’t afraid of us, that’s for sure. I could sense they weren’t. Even when you shot ’em, they seemed okay with it. No sorrow for themselves, even seemed to get off from the pain. You’d blow one away and another would fill its spot.”
“Sergeant, why didn’t they kill the villagers? Why leave them be for all these years, but kill your men?”
“Shit, who knows? When we reached the village, when we saw their looks — fear in their eyes — we knew they were trapped there.”
“The villagers?”