“Ah, shit. We’re staying, aren’t we? I know that look in your eye,” Speer says.
“Do we really have a choice?” says Krandle.
“No. But, dammit. I don’t mind missions and shit, but I miss the downtime in between with beers and women.”
“You don’t get women, Speer, unless you pay for them. And then, it’s still fifty-fifty. Remember Bangkok?” Ortiz says with a grin.
“Shut the fuck up about that. That… never happened. And I get more than Blanchard over there.” Speer points toward the medic hovering over the injured.
“You know, I seriously doubt that,” Miller says, glancing at Blanchard with a speculative expression. “I bet he gets more than the rest of us combined.”
“What the fuck do you know, chief?” Speer says.
Miller shrugs, his words for the week spoken.
“Those guys who ambushed these poor fuckers were on quads, so they can’t be that far,” Ortiz says.
“Agreed, but we’ll deal with that later, unless we come across their tracks. It’s a fair bet they’ll be far enough away to be out of range of the night runners. Right now, we need to think about getting through the night. The ammo we’re carrying might not be enough for the night runners laired in the city,” Krandle says.
“More good news,” Speer mutters.
“We have claymores and grenades,” Franklin says, ignoring Speer.
“That we do. If we’re saddled with the wounded, we won’t be able to make it far. Blanchard says they’ll make it to the bridge south of us. It’s the best defensible area in sight, effectively giving us a single front,” says Krandle.
“Then the bridge it is. Have you spoken with Leonard? He may order us to return,” Franklin says.
Krandle shook his head. “No, not yet. I’m going to give him a call now and I may leave out a detail or two.”
“I have my shiny armor all polished if we’re going to rescue those damsels in distress come morning. All I need is a white horse,” Speer says, looking around for one. “Let’s just hope the dragon is asleep.”
Krandle steps away and raises the sub on the radio and gives Leonard the situation. He informs him of their desire to stay with the wounded and move them out of harm’s way, to watch over them for the night before sending them along on their own. The radio silence that follows is palpable.
“Chief, you realize you’re all we have… that you have other responsibilities as well,” Leonard finally says.
“Aye, sir.”
“I don’t like it, but very well. You make it back, and that’s an order. We’ll be standing by in case.” Leonard’s frustration with his SEAL team leader is evident.
“Aye, aye, sir. We’ll radio our coordinates when we have them.”
There isn’t a reply and Krandle knows that he’s in for an earful once they return. But, that was their bargain for Krandle and his team staying. They had a chance to leave with Captain Walker and his group when they all met at the Bangor Naval Station. Leonard commanded the sub, and in essence, his SEAL team. But, the world had changed and even Leonard eventually came to recognize that. For Krandle and his team staying, an agreement of sorts was made. Krandle could make the final decision whether to go ashore and when to pull back or proceed. Leonard was still in overall command, and could have ordered them back, but gave Krandle the leeway as the on-scene commander.
“What did he say?” Franklin asks upon Krandle’s return.
“It’s not so much what he said, as what he’s going to say when we get back.”
“That sounds like it’ll be fun,” Franklin mutters.
“About as much as a visit to the proctologist. Okay, we’re heading to the bridge. I want Speer and Ortiz to scout ahead on the left. Franklin, take Miller with you on the right. I don’t have to tell you to keep an eye out for our mysterious guests.”
“Copy that,” Franklin says.
“We’ll get the wounded loaded and follow.”
The four scouts fade into the woods on both sides as Krandle returns to those gathered.
“Okay, we’re staying. We need to build stretchers for the wounded and move toward the bridge. It’s not far and we can expect company this evening, but that’s where we’re staying,” Krandle says.
Fourteen shoulders sag in relief, looking almost like candles melting under high heat.
“Thank you,” Doug says.
“I hope you understand it’s not like we didn’t want to help, it’s—”
“We understand,” Doug interrupts. “And thank you again.”
“Do any of you have any weapons? Those that weren’t taken?” Krandle asks.
“Only in that,” Doug says, pointing toward the smoldering wreckage of vehicles.
“Fair enough. Your people will carry the wounded. My medic will stay with them and monitor them. I want to be clear, they may not make it very long. You need to be prepared for that.”
Doug nods. “And our wives?”
“We’ll talk about that in the morning. We have an interesting night to get through first.”
Gathering a few thicker branches, they create a couple of makeshift stretchers using ponchos and Para cord. The femur isn’t broken, but Blanchard suspects it’s fractured. Using a crutch cut from a bough and the help of a shoulder, the man is able to hobble along. Another small dose of morphine helps, but Blanchard is fairly sure they’ll have to make a third stretcher before they reach the bridge.
The group manhandles the stretchers past the fallen tree and begins the trudge down the highway toward the distant bridge. Knowing the other four of his team has the front covered, Krandle positions himself at the rear. Gazing up at the afternoon sun, they’ll have only a couple of hours of light once they reach the span. Time weighs on his shoulders and he mentally urges the group to move faster, knowing they’ll have a lot to do once they arrive.
“We’re at the edge of a ravine that the bridge crosses. All clear to this point,” Franklin radios.
“Continue across and scout the far side. We don’t want any surprises coming from there. We’ll be a while yet getting there,” Krandle replies.
“Copy that. We’re on the move.”
As they walk, Krandle observes the group’s nervous looks toward the trees, as if expecting the bandits to suddenly materialize. He assures them the others in his team have reached the bridge and reported the way clear. That does little to alleviate the anxious looks. Several times during their trek, Blanchard has them halt and tends to the man with the chest wound.
As they step onto the span, Franklin and the others emerge from the tree line on the other side. “No sign of anyone for at least a mile,” Franklin reports.
Krandle nods. “Have the civilians set up on the far end away from town, then grab your packs and meet me at the near end. If night runners show up tonight, it will be from that direction. We need to arrange a welcome.”
With the group positioned, the team empties their packs. Krandle looks over the landscape while radioing in their position to the sub. The bridge itself is almost an eighth of a mile across, spanning a fairly deep gorge with a stream running its length. The tree-lined ravine shallows as it nears the shoreline, as does the stream before it empties out onto the sand and the incoming waves.
Ahead, the two-lane highway stretches straight with narrow medians of tall grass to either side. The sward gives way to firs reaching skyward.
Good line of sight to the front, but if they emerge from the trees nearby, we won’t have much reaction time. Krandle studies the terrain. They can’t move across the ravine, unless they go all of the way to the beach. And, the bandits won’t come out once the sun sets, so our rear should be secure.