Ghost Series - Ghost Part 12

"It's just f.u.c.king bodies, sir," he replied. "I mean, lots and lots of bodies, piled up on each other. Like a Doom game scene, up to your knees in gore. It's so f.u.c.king cool."

"Are there stairs?" the OIC asked calmly.

"Uh, yeah," Roman replied, stepping into the landing. "That's covered in bodies too." The area was actually too brightly lit for his NODs, so he flipped them up onto his helmet. That, in a way, made the scene even cooler, since the light was red and made the stairs look like they went straight to h.e.l.l. He walked down the steps until he got to the edge of the bodies, just above the landing, and quickly peeked around the corner and ducked back. This came very close to getting his face shot off-a round actually hit his NODs, ripping them off his helmet.

"HEY!" he yelled. "NAVY SEALS. WE'RE HERE TO GET YOU O . . . OUT! SO PLEASE DON'T SHOOT US, OKAY?".

"SEALs," Babe said, pushing down on the barrel. "SEALs! Don't shoot, Amy!"

Amy laid the gun down on the floor and bent her head over it, nodding.

"SEALs!" Babe shouted. "Come ahead. We won't shoot."

Chapter Thirteen.

Roman leaned around the corner again, then ducked back. When there wasn't another shot he stepped onto the bodies on the landing, watching his footing and trying to see who had been shooting at him. He realized that the attackers had been royally f.u.c.ked in this engagement. There was no way to see beyond the flare light. They were sitting ducks to anybody in the darkness. He flicked on the tac light on his M-4 and flashed it down the corridor and stopped when it revealed an open door. A door with one naked girl lying on the floor in the p.r.o.ne position, her head bent over an AK lying on the floor, and another leaning out the door and waving him forward. He looked at the tableau for a moment and then quickly turned the light away along with his head.

"Sir," he said. "We have a problem."

"Say again, Roman?" the OIC replied. "You're broken."

"We have a problem," Roman said, stepping back up the stairs. "None of these girls have any clothes on."

"That was in the brief, Roman," the chief growled. "You should have been listening instead of high-fiving Sherman."

"Maybe I kinda caught that in the brief, Chief," Roman said. "But they Don't. Have. Any. Clothes. On."

"Roman," the chief said. "Get the f.u.c.k down there and . . . Oh, f.u.c.k it, I'm headed to your position."

The chief stumped down the steps, ignoring the bodies except to watch his footing and, at one point, catch a short sleigh ride as a pile slid downward, then flicked on his taclight and used it to negotiate his way down the body-strewn hallway.

"This your doing?" he asked the girl slumped over the AK.

"Hers and Ghost's," the other girl in the doorway said. "She can't hear, that blast got her pretty bad. I'm Babe, at least that's what Ghost called me, for Babe Ruth since I was throwing grenades."

Even the chief had to admit he was having a hard time not ogling Babe's well-formed b.r.e.a.s.t.s, but he mostly looked her in the eye.

"Did a good job," the chief said gruffly. "Where's this Ghost character?"

"He's . . . really badly shot up," Babe said, pulling on the chief's arm. "He's over here."

The chief negotiated his way past a couple of the girls who were around the doorway and bent down over the blood-covered figure. It took him a moment to place the face and then he laughed. A real, honest belly laugh. He leaned down and checked the pulse at the carotid, then took Ghost's chin in his hands and shook his head back and forth.

"Wake up, Ghost," the chief said loudly. "Quit f.u.c.king off on the job!"

"Wha . . ." Mike said, his eyelids fluttering open. "Adams?"

"Yeah, Ghost." The chief chuckled. "What the f.u.c.k are you doing here? Don't you know this is a job for professionals not a.s.s-boys?"

"f.u.c.k you, a.s.s-boy Two," Mike muttered.

"You stay with us," the chief said, smiling. He dropped his a.s.sault ruck and pulled out an IV bag and catheter. With quick, sure, movements he inserted the IV and then handed the bag to Babe.

"Either hold this or get someone to hold it," Chief Adams said. Then he started digging deeper. And out came a box of tampons and another of maxipads. He heard a loud snort from behind him and saw the girl on the door, AK now at port, shaking her head.

"Where's the condoms?" she shouted slurrily. "Extra large, right? Unlubricated?"

"We're not doing underwater demo," the chief shouted back, grinning. He pulled out a pair of bandage scissors and started cutting away Ghost's clothes. As he'd come to a major hole, he'd either slap one of the maxipads on it or insert a tampon. From time to time Ghost would moan, but he kept working until most of the major external bleeding was stopped. By the time he was done with that, other members of the team had been deployed in and around the room and the OIC strode in, shaking his head.

"Ladies," the OIC said, looking around the room and trying to meet the girls' eyes by the light of the flares and some taclights that had been pointed at the ceiling, "the current plan is for us to hold this position until Syrian defenses are . . . banged up enough that we can get helicopters in. That shouldn't be more than a couple of hours. Let us do the fighting, you ladies just chill and try to stay calm. And, uhm . .

." He paused and shook his head again. "I know what you have been through, some of it anyway, and we're sorry. But, we're also men and SEALS aren't by any stretch of the imagination New Age guys or metromales, and with the exception of Petty Officer Roman we're not gay."

"Hey!"

"If any of my men give you a hard time, or are looking in an offensive way, tell me and I'll do something about it. Like kick his a.s.s. But . . . there are going to be looks. There might even be comments. If any of them are offensive, tell me or the chief and we'll deal with it. I'm Lieutenant Reynolds, by the way, Charlie Platoon, SEAL Team Three."

"Lieutenant?" Babe said, handing the IV bag to Britney and walking over to him. "Can I say something?"

"Yes, miss?" the lieutenant replied.

"Thank you," she said, and wrapped her arms around him.

Before they knew it, all the SEALs were being hugged and kissed.

"Ladies," Reynolds said, after a bit. "We have a job to do and we can't do it if we're so distracted we don't know what day it is. So, thank you, too, and kindly let Roman and Meat go."

"Which one are you?" one of the girls asked, hanging on Roman's arm.

"Roman," he replied. "Petty Officer Third."

"Oh, the gay one?" the girl said and giggled. "Well, if you ever want to try the other way, I'm a Kappa Delta at UGA. We're right on Millege, you can't miss the house. Come on by any time."

"But, I'm not . . ." Roman said as the girl walked away.

Meat Three wrapped his arm around the confused petty officer's shoulder and led him out of the room.

"Face it," Meat said, giving his shoulder a hug-shake. "These girls have been traumatized. There's nothing that they'd like more than a gay rescuer, so they can feel safe. You lucky dog."

"I'm notgay," Roman protested.

"Pity," Meat Three replied.

"Meat, Roman, Sherman," the OIC said, coming out of the torture bunker. "Top-side. Watch for a counterattack. Simmons, Vahn, there's apparently a ventilation shaft back there," he said, pointing down the corridor. "Go check it out. Ghost had rigged an IED in it, but it got triggered already. See if you can rig another. Oh, and everybody give up your rations and spare canteens."

"Why?" Simmons asked, dropping his a.s.sault pack.

"Because the girls have had no food and no water for a while," Reynolds replied. "Share and share alike.

Take a look around and see if you can find a sink. But watch your a.s.s, there's apparently some chemical munitions spilled around here. Make sure the water's not contaminated, use your strips."

"How's Ghost?" Simmons said. "It's actuallyGhost, isn't it?"

"Apparently," Reynolds replied. "You know him?"

"Knew him," Simmons said. "He was a senior team guy when I joined Charlie Three. He quit and went over to training. I heard he'd ETSed."

"Well, he's here, now," the OIC said. "Get to your jobs. We're not out of the woods, yet. Sherman," he added, reaching in his a.s.sault vest and handing the SEAL a satellite radio. "Call in. Tell them the girls are secure, Ghost is severely wounded, one of the girls is in a bad way. Ask that they control the JDAMs from satellite and Predator since we're going to be down here. And find out when we can expect extraction."

"Got it, sir," Sherman replied, turning for the entrance.

"Meat, Roman, cover him," the OIC finished, turning back into the room.

"Lieutenant?" one of the girls said. "I'm Bambi. Well, Britney, but . . ."

"I understand, miss," the lieutenant replied, trying to look her in the eye. She had perfect b.r.e.a.s.t.s, small but very well formed. And . . . blue eyes. Nice face. s.h.i.t, this was too much.

"Amy said that Ghost said that there's a bag over in the room across the hall," she said, pulling on his arm and ignoring the looks. "There's something in it for the President. She said it was contaminated; I don't know what that means."

"I do," the lieutenant said, allowing himself to be led. When they reached the door, Bambi . . . Britney bent down and pulled out a flare, sparking it to light, and gestured to the leather case.

"I thought I saw it before," she said. "He sent me in here to get plastic to put on one of the wounds on his chest."

The lieutenant walked to the sample case and touched it gingerly. It was wet, as if washed down.

"Any idea where he got the water?" the lieutenant asked. He pulled a strip of material out of a pouch and rubbed it on the outside of the case.

"No," Britney replied.

The test strip said that the outside of the bag was clean. He was sorely tempted to open it and find out what was inside.

"Bambi," he said, unthinkingly. "Could you leave the flare here and step out of the room?"

Britney nodded and set the flare on the floor, then backed out of the room.

Reynolds picked it up, pushed the door closed and then set it on the pile of boxes in the middle of the room. Then he set the sample case on the ground where the light would fall in it, took a breath and opened the case slowly. What he saw made him blow out his breath in an explosive: "HOLY f.u.c.kING s.h.i.t.".

"Are you okay, Lieutenant?" Britney called, knocking on the door.

Reynolds closed the case gingerly, trying not to breathe and hoping he wasn't getting hit by neurotoxins, and then opened the door back up. When he took a breath there was a faint whiff of sulfur and that actually made him happier. The contamination was probably mustard or maybe phosgene, which wasn't going to kill anyone at that level of concentration.

"I'm fine," Reynolds said, grinning and trying not to laugh. "Do you have any idea where the material in this case came from?"

"No," Britney said.

"Okay, we'll figure it out," Reynolds replied, dropping the case and hugging her. "Sorry, I'm just . . .

tickled."

"What's in there?" Britney asked, surprised by the emotional response from the officer who had been so correct so far.

"A surprise," Reynolds said, grinning. "I've got to go."

He walked to the stairs and made his way up the pile of bodies to where Roman and Meat were covering Sherman, who was hooked into the satellite radio. The radio was smaller than a brick phone, with an internal directional antenna and a headset.

"Who's there?" Reynolds asked, squatting down and still grinning.

"Admiral Hayes," Sherman said, covering the mike. "Want to talk?"

"Got your camera?" Reynolds asked, pulling the mike away and jacking the earphone into his ear.

"Yes, sir," Sherman replied, shrugging off his a.s.sault pack and pulling out the small video recorder. "I got some shots of the bodies on the stairs but not of the girls."

"STARBASE, SIERRA ONE, OVER," Reynolds said. "Apparently, Agent Ghost wanted to give a present to the President. I totally agree. But I think you should see it, first. We're preparing for video uplink."

"Copy SIERRA. This is STARBASE Actual," the admiral said. "Be advised that the NCA may be monitoring this conversation and video linkage."

"Oh, I don't think he'll mind, sir," Reynolds said happily. "Sherman, back off. The inside of the case is contaminated. Mustard, I think, low concentration, but I'm going to hold my breath when I open it."

"Okay, sir," Sherman said, handing him the camera, which had been plugged into the satellite link, and backing away.

"Here goes," Reynolds said, taking a breath and then opening up the case with his left hand while shining the low-light camera with a very faint blue light at the case.

"HOLY s.h.i.t!" the President shouted. "Yes! Yes! YES!"

"Oh, man," Brandeis said, shaking his head. "We havegotto get this guy a medal. Barring that, one h.e.l.l of a lot of money."

"Put me in contact with them," Cliff said, looking over at the communications technician.

"You're on, sir."

"SEAL Commander."

"SIERRA Six?" Reynolds asked.

"This is the President. I hate doing direct contacts, I don't want to be LBJ in Vietnam. But I have to ask.

Thatiswho I think it is, right?"

"As far as I can tell, sir," Reynolds replied, nervously. Knowing the President might be listening and actuallytalkingto him were two different things. "We were told that Ghost wanted it to be a personal present to you."

"How is he?" the President asked.