“I could have gotten you killed.”
“Ma’am, you brought a vehicle to transport our wounded.” Goose deliberately used the plural pronoun to point out their shared responsibility for the injured Rangers. “Nobody else here had the time to look for something. You done good.”
Inside the house, Goose finished tearing the door from its hinges. He laid it beside Johnson.
“You still with me, Private?”
“Yes, First Sergeant.”
“Good man. We’re going to take a little trip now. You ready for this?”
Johnson grimaced a little, then nodded as best he was able. “Yes, First Sergeant.”
“Ma’am, I’m going to need your help.”
Danielle came closer but was obviously uneasy about all the blood.
“Just hold on to his head. Keep him from getting banged around too much.”
“All right.” Danielle put her hands on either side of Johnson’s head.
“Ma’am, like this.” Goose interlaced his bloody hands, interlocking his fingers. “Make a cradle for his head. I’m going to be taking most of his weight, but I don’t want him to get hurt any more while we’re doing this.”
Danielle made a cradle.
Irritated, Goose noticed that the cameraman was still shooting. “Son, you could put that camera down long enough to give us a hand.”
“Gary,” Danielle said, “keep shooting.” She looked at Goose. “I can do this.”
Goose knew he didn’t have time to argue. He knelt down and slid his arms under Johnson’s lanky form. The pain in his knee throbbed to renewed life, feeling as though a shark’s jaws had closed on it and were grinding away. His breath caught at the back of his throat and for a moment he felt like he was going to black out.
You hold it together, Sergeant. You got to get these people out of here.
“Brett,” Goose said to Rainier.
“Yes, First Sergeant.”
“You’re lookout, son. Keep your eyes peeled.”
“Yes, First Sergeant.”
“Goose.” Remington’s voice sounded in Goose’s ear.
“Falcon Three reads you, Base.” Goose lifted Johnson’s body as carefully as he could, then maneuvered the wounded Ranger onto the door. He laid him gently on the wooden surface.
“You’ve got to get out of there,” Remington said. “The helos have almost all lifted.”
“Tell them to hold one,” Goose said. “I got a seriously injured man with me. He needs a medic right now.”
“I will, but I can’t hold it for long.”
“We’ll be there. Just buy me some time.”
Danielle stripped out of her Kevlar vest and outer shirt, leaving only a blue sleeveless shirt. She folded her blouse and put it under Johnson’s head.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Johnson croaked.
“You’re welcome, soldier.”
“Get that vest back on,” Goose said.
Danielle nodded and pulled the body armor on again.
Taking a roll of ordnance tape from his kit, Goose lifted one end of the door and quickly ran lines of tape across Johnson’s chest to hold him to the door. Then Goose did the same to the young Ranger’s feet.
“I’m thirsty,” Johnson whispered.
Danielle reached for the canteen at her hip. Goose was pleased to see that she’d made a habit of carrying water. She was learning quickly.
“No water,” Goose said.
Danielle looked at him.
“Private,” Goose said.
“Yeah, Sarge.”
“With the injuries you’ve got, drinking water right now isn’t a good idea. Let the medics have a look at you first.”
Johnson nodded. “Yes, First Sergeant.”
Instead of putting the canteen away, Danielle opened it and poured some of the water onto a gauze pad from the emergency medical kit she retrieved from the cameraman’s bag. She pressed the saturated gauze pad against Johnson’s mouth.
“It’s not much,” she apologized, “but it’ll wet your lips.”
Johnson nodded and sucked at the gauze. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Goose turned his attention to Gary, the cameraman. “You’re going to have to put that camera down now. We need help.”
Gary glanced at Danielle, and she nodded. With obvious reluctance, the young man put his camera into a case and zipped it shut. He slung the case, then joined Danielle at the foot end of the door. Goose managed the other end by himself. Rainier started to put his carbine away and help.
“No,” Goose said. “You got point. Stay ready. Let’s go.”
23
United States 75th Army Rangers Temporary Post
Sanliurfa, Turkey
Local Time 0754 Hours
“You can’t leave Sergeant Gander there, Captain,” Alexander Cody said.
Remington ignored the CIA section chief. The captain was already deeply aware that he couldn’t leave Goose behind in Harran. OneWorld NewsNet was making him out to be a hero. Again.
The news channel’s screen remained split, displaying the continuing attack on Harran as well as looping the footage that had been shot of Goose’s own struggles to stay alive.
“If the sergeant dies,” Cody said, “we’ve lost the only link we have to Icarus.”
Remington was more conscious of Goose’s public image. Goose had gotten a lot of international attention whether he’d wanted it or not. Abandoning him in Harran, especially when he was risking his life to bring home a wounded fellow Ranger, was out of the question.
“Lieutenant Archer,” Remington barked.
“Sir.” The junior officer wheeled about rapidly.
“Get me a twenty on First Sergeant Gander. I want a sat-eye and constant GPS on him.”
“Right away, sir.” Archer abandoned the marker board and hurried over to the computer techs.
“Black Angel Leader, this is Base.”
“Go, Base.”
Remington peered at the large computer monitor that displayed the overhead view of the city. He spotted the ten Black Hawk combat choppers winging over Harran from the north. Farther south, the Syrian forces had slowed only slightly, like waves crashing onto a rocky shore.
“I need a pickup performed inside the town,” Remington said. “I want a pilot who can sit one of those birds on a dime and take off again in the heat of battle.”
“Affirmative, sir. I have just the man.”
“Get him up front first to off-load those mines, then have him double back. I want him on a private frequency to handle the pickup.” Remington rattled off the channel they’d be using for the exfiltration.
“Base, this is Black Angel Eleven,” a calm male voice said over the new frequency.
“Eleven, this is Base. First Sergeant Gander is loose in the streets with a wounded Ranger. He’s not going to make it to the evac site. I need you to pick him up.”
“Understood. Happy to do it, Base. The top has always been a good guy in our books.”
Remington resented the implied familiarity with Goose. Even though the sergeant didn’t make a conscious effort to get to know everyone, it always seemed like he did. Faces and names, as well as the circumstances where he’d encountered them, just came easily to Goose. Remington was convinced that Goose could walk up to a fence post and strike up a conversation.
Switching to the frequency Goose was monitoring, Remington called for him.
“I read you, Base,” Goose answered. His voice sounded strained and distant.
“You’re not going to make the evac, Goose,” Remington said.
If Goose was upset at the news, he didn’t let it show. “I’m sorry to hear that, sir. I’d counted on it for Johnson’s sake.”
“One of the Black Hawks is going to pick you up. We’re negotiating an LZ right now.”
“I appreciate it, Captain. We’ve lost enough good men out here today.”
Remington glanced over at the television and discovered that Danielle Vinchenzo was back on the air. There was no picture, but the audio was coming through, and a transcription was being printed across the split screen under looped segments of the rescue of the Rangers in the house.