The Maverick Experiment (18 page)

Shafi swerved to miss a woman and her son as they scrambled across the street to flee the bomb scene. The city was in a state of chaos as dust and smoke still billowed from the blast site and emergency vehicles continued to respond to the scene.

While most scattered in fear, a curious and angry mob made its way toward the wedding hall. Derek knew the Taliban would certainly send in some of their folks to assess the damage and ready their press statements. Weddings, and thus wedding halls, were sacred. Though they were not as off limits as mosques or madrasas, the US, under normal circumstances, would never hit such a target for fear of collateral damage, of which there had been plenty.

Derek and the men would have to egress from the area quickly because things were headed south real fast. Having a police vehicle pursue them did not make things any easier and certainly didn't lower their profile. Small-arms fire began to crackle on all sides of them as angry civilians fired on the speeding car that was being chased by the police.

“Shafi, turn here now!”

Shafi cranked a hard left down a back alley and sped through the winding channel. The road wasn't paved, and Randy and Derek struggled to stay in their seats as the Town- Ace gave it all it had. The Ford Ranger the police were driving would hold up much better on these suspect roads, but Derek knew they had to get off the main streets and avoid picking up additional pursuit vehicles.

Carson and Miller cracked the back door to the hotel and peered out to make sure the rear alley was clear. The front of the building had become a mob scene of angry protesters and official government personnel. They would need to utilize the
back alleyways to reach the rendezvous point. The plan had gone to shit.

Derek and Randy's vehicle took another hard left down a separate channel between two sets of residences. “Stop the vehicle, Shafi!”

Shafi continued on, glancing at Derek with an expression that clearly indicated he thought his American friend was crazy.

“Shafi, stop it! We're gonna take their truck.”

“We're gonna what?” said an equally surprised Randy as Shafi stopped the van.

Derek smiled and exited the vehicle as he prepared another flash-bang. “I don't know what we would have done without these on this trip.” He yanked the pin and tossed the grenade as the police vehicle rounded the corner. The blinding light and noise caused the driver of the truck to slam on the brake and attempt to reverse. Randy took the cue and fired with Derek on the truck's occupants, killing them all, including the gunner on the rear truck bed.

The truck's rear slammed into the wall, but the damage was only aesthetic. The truck would still run—at least, Derek hoped it would. He and Randy unceremoniously dumped the dead police onto the ground.

“Shafi, let's go.”

Shafi jumped out of the TownAce and followed the others into the police truck.

“I'm driving this time.” Derek jumped behind the wheel as Randy and Shafi piled in, and they sped away toward Carson and Miller.

“Four, this is One. We are en route. We had a slight complication. What's your twenty?”

Miller raised a finger from his left hand to shush an oncoming child as he kept his right hand firmly on his Glock pistol and fired on an armed man patrolling the alley. He and Carson crept down the alleyway, hoping to find a nook or cranny of some sort away from the hotel to settle into for a while, because the hotel would undoubtedly be searched for suspects and victims alike. He placed his left hand on his throat piece, “One, this is Three. We are wondering where the fuck you are, over.”

A shot whizzed past Miller and Carson as they dove to the side of the road and prepared to return fire. They turned to see several Talib-looking men closing on their position from the street entrance at the opposite end of the alleyway.

Carson returned fire and wounded one, but the men ducked behind vehicles for cover. A barrage of gunfire ensued as Carson and Miller low-crawled behind a vehicle of their own. Each man chose one of the hardened wheelbases and crouched behind it.

“One, we are taking some serious fire. Could use assistance or preferably a ride, over.”

“We are en route. Hold on. We will be there as quick as we can,” came Derek's reply.

“I got your six,” said Carson as he turned and covered the end of the alleyway he and Miller had originally headed toward. “See what you can do about picking these fuckers off.”

Miller nodded and lay down in the pile of trash beneath him so he could peek his head around the tire to see if he could get a shot. The alleyway reeked of garbage and human feces; the region wasn't known for modern public services; the two-foot-deep trench that ran alongside the road right next to Miller's face was all the sewer system that existed.

“I can only get one from here.” He fired and eliminated one of the several fighters as the shot ripped through the taxi and, subsequently, the chest of the Talib who was behind it.

“Hand me a frag!”

Carson pulled a frag from his kit and handed it back to Miller as he left prone position and switched to a knee.

“Give me some suppressive fire real quick.”

Carson turned and unloaded a string of shots down the alley as Miller yanked the pin and heaved the grenade toward the group of enemies.

The detonation shattered the glass in the nearby vehicles, but Miller was unable to determine how many, if any, had been injured or killed from the explosion. “Give me another!”

They repeated the sequence and again ducked for cover behind the vehicle as the second grenade exploded down the road.

“We need to move, brother. They're gonna flank us here if we stick around too long,” Carson said. He stood and heaved a smoke grenade toward the vehicles, followed by a third frag. Smoke began to gather as the frag detonated, and he and
Miller stood to move in the opposite direction. As they did, a small cluster of armed men raced at them but were quickly eliminated by Carson in two quick bursts.

Derek's voice came in over the radio. “Guys, we are speeding toward the mouth of the alley and will be there in a few seconds.”

“Roger. We are headed toward the opposite end of our original pickup now,” exclaimed Carson. “Be advised, we are getting heat from both ends.”

The whole area had quickly become a lousy place to be an American. Going into the hornet's nest was one thing, but stirring it up was another, and they had taken a baseball bat to it.

In the speeding Ford, Randy pointed to the alleyway as he and Derek approached the new rendezvous point. “There's the outlet.”

Derek swung the vehicle in front of the alley as Carson and Miller sprinted toward the truck, taking fire from multiple directions.

“Let's go, boys, we aren't getting much of a suntan out here,” yelled Randy from the shot-out window.

Miller climbed into the back seat as Carson leaped into the truck bed and lay down.

The area was full of smoke and protesters. The sound of crackling gunfire rang out again as Derek stomped the gas pedal. As he did, a burst of rounds lit up the rear quarter panel of the truck, barely missing Carson.

“Ahh fuck!” yelled Carson. “Go, go, go!”

As the truck started forward again, a round from another security vehicle ripped through the rear window and Randy's seat, killing him instantly and shoving him into the dashboard.

Derek screamed as he continued to accelerate. “Shit! Randy!”

Miller reached forward from the backseat and grabbed his longtime friend to check his status.

“Carson, I need you, buddy,” screamed Derek into his throat piece.

“On it.”

Carson stood and mounted the heavy machine gun in the truck bed to return fire on the pursuing security vehicle.

The first burst of rounds penetrated the driver's side of the vehicle in pursuit; it spun out of control, crashing through a series of fruit and vegetable carts along the side of the road.

Derek peered through the rearview mirror as his teammate wreaked havoc on the vehicle and the surrounding area behind him. “Nice work. Get back down. I think we're clear for a bit.”

As a cab driver on the side of the road swung his door open to get out of his car, Derek sped by and ripped the door from its hinges, sending the driver into a fit.

“Randy! Randy! C'mon, brother!” screamed Miller. He shook the seat, hoping for a response as Derek used his free hand to reach across and feel for a pulse.

“Fuck!”

“No. No, this can't happen. C'mon, Randy, don't do this, brother,” pleaded a helpless Miller.

“I am sorry, man, he is gone,” said Derek as he removed his fingers from Randy's neck. Randy had taken a clear shot to the head.

The team continued on toward the safe house and was able to avoid any other pursuit vehicles.

Sunday, January 31
Miram Shah, Pakistan
Safe House
2053 Hrs

The mood was somber as the team pulled in, but they wouldn't have time to mourn Randy's death. Their primary focus now would be exiting the country and getting home. They had accomplished quite enough for their first trip. If they stayed any longer, there wouldn't be anyone left.

Randy had been a crucial part of the team, and Derek had grown quite close to his second-in-command over the course of the training and certainly over the past several days. Still, no one had been closer to him than Miller, who had served on the same ODA with Randy in Special Forces for more than five years. The two had been all over the world together and created an unbreakable bond. Miller sat in the corner across the courtyard, crying, as Derek and Carson gathered their stuff and prepared to depart.