“Did those people ask for help?”
“Not that I know of, sir.”
“How did Sergeant Gander know they needed help?”
“Sergeant Gander saw the burning buildings from the route they were traveling.”
Remington cursed. “And he didn’t think that maybe they were being set up?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Are we in radio communication with Sergeant Gander?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Hand me that headset.”
The private passed the headset over, and Remington put it on and pulled the chin mic into place. “What’s his call sign?”
“Drifter Leader.”
Remington pushed a button on the mic and opened the radio channel. “Drifter Leader, this is Base. Do you copy?”
“Sir,” the computer tech next to him said, “I’ve got bogeys vectoring in on the supply convoy.”
Remington flicked his gaze back to the computer screen and watched as seven… eight… nine speeding vehicles closed in on the convoy. He cursed and queued the mic again. “Drifter Leader, this is Base. Do you copy?”
3
United States Rangers Convoy
Three Klicks North-Northeast of Harran
Sanliurfa Province, Turkey
Local Time 2116 Hours
Private First Class Jimmy Robinson sat in the back of the cargo truck and sipped metallic-tasting water from his canteen. He rode on an ammo box and swayed with the motion of the truck lumbering across the uneven terrain. Through the parted canvas partially covering the rear of the truck, he constantly watched the terrain.
“Man,” Butch Strahan complained from the other side of the truck. “You couldn’t ask for a bumpier ride.”
“You could,” Robinson said, “but I’d shoot you on account of you being too sadistic to live.”
Strahan laughed. “I’m just glad it isn’t so bumpy that some of this ammo goes off.”
“Wouldn’t do that. This stuff’s packed all right. I helped get it done.”
“I guess if you’re wrong, we’ll never live to know about it.” Strahan shifted, obviously trying to find a more comfortable position. “I heard you got to talk to your girl.”
Robinson nodded and tried to keep the smile from his face. The other men teased about such things. “Got Pablo’s Xbox 360 up and running. Hooked it into the Internet coming out of command. Captain Remington finally okayed that.”
“Good thing you guys didn’t get caught using it before he allowed it.”
“Tell me about it. But that Xbox just sips bandwidth. Even when you’re talking back and forth over the gamer network.”
“So what did your girl say?”
Robinson’s happy thoughts fled. “Her parents are missing.”
Strahan looked suddenly solemn. “Well, if Joe Baker was right in what he was saying, that God came and took all the Christians home to begin the Tribulation, that’s a good thing.”
“Maybe. But right now Nikki’s alone.” Robinson hesitated, wondering if he should say anything about what was really on his mind. “And she’s still here.”
“Oh,” Strahan said, suddenly understanding.
“I’ve known her since I was fourteen,” Robinson said. “Used to sit behind her in algebra. Her parents were always involved with the church. So was she.”
“You’re wondering why she’s still here while her parents are gone?”
“She says it was because she didn’t believe as much as her parents did. She thinks she was just going through the moves.”
“I think a lot of us were like that,” Strahan said. “I have to admit, I ain’t always played things on the straight and narrow, and maybe I’ve been too interested in other things than God’s Word, but I didn’t think I’d be left behind like this.”
“I never gave it any thought,” Robinson admitted. “I treated everybody fairly, tried to get along, but I didn’t make much time in my day for thinking about where I might end up when it was all over.”
“That’s because it’s not normal to sit around thinking about everything being all over.”
“Nikki’s parents did. Every Sunday and Wednesday at church. And I’m sure they didn’t forget about it during the rest of the week either.”
“But it’s not over. Not if what Joe Baker was saying was right. About how we can redeem ourselves in God’s eyes now.”
“I know. I’m hoping.”
Strahan shook his head. “You gotta do more than hope. You gotta believe.” He paused. “I don’t know about you, but before I hit my rack every night, I hit my knees and give thanks for getting through one more day.”
“I know. Me too. Nikki and me, we even prayed together on that Xbox hookup the other night. I mean, she doesn’t even have an Xbox. She was over at a friend’s house. They were logging on and staying on whenever they could because Nikki knows I like to play. She said that she knew if I was still alive, sooner or later I’d log on.”
“Then that conversation you two had was meant to be.”
“God wanted us to talk.” Robinson sipped his water again. “Nikki and I both believe that.”
Strahan abruptly sat up a little straighter and peered out the back of the truck. “Did you see that?”
Robinson put his canteen away and picked up his M-4A1. “See what?”
“Thought I saw movement out there in the brush.” Strahan pushed the canvas aside and swiveled his head. Then he jerked back.
Robinson stared at the other man, wondering what had happened, when the sound of the gunshots caught up with the cargo truck. He ducked immediately and scrambled over to Strahan as the truck’s driver floored the accelerator and started evasive maneuvers.
Blood welled from an ugly wound in the side of Strahan’s neck. For a moment Robinson thought the man was dead. Then Strahan reached up and caught his arm.
“Help… me,” Strahan wheezed. “Please. Help… me.”
Praying out loud, Robinson grabbed for a field dressing from his kit and slapped it against Strahan’s neck to stop the bleeding. From the amount of blood, he knew he had only minutes to stop the flow before his friend bled out.
More bullets ripped through the canvas over the truck’s cargo deck. Robinson wanted to scream at the men doing the shooting and ask them if they knew the trucks were loaded with munitions. Instead, he kept his head low and kept pressure on the field dressing.
Local Time 2118 Hours
“Drifter Leader, this is Base. Do you copy?”
Goose heard Remington’s voice in his ear over the headset’s crackling connection. Even though they had access to geosynchronous communications satellites, the connections weren’t always solid.
“Drifter Leader,” Remington said again, “this is Base. I repeat, do you copy?”
Goose didn’t want to take the call; he knew how it was going to go, but he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t blame Remington. He sat in the passenger seat of the Hummer and held his assault rifle canted forward. The seat-belt harness cut into his hips and chest, but it was the only thing keeping him from flying out of the seat. At times in its mad dash across the uneven terrain, the Hummer was airborne.
“Base, this is Drifter Leader.”
“Goose, that convoy is under attack. Where are you?”
The news hit Goose like a sledgehammer. He’d guessed that the convoy might get attacked, but he’d hoped the radio silence had been because everything was okay. They’d tried to reach the convoy, but the hills had interfered with the signal.
“On our way back now,” Goose said.
“You shouldn’t have left them.”
“No, sir,” Goose agreed. “I shouldn’t have.”
“What were you thinking when you-”
“Begging pardon, Base, but unless you have pertinent information I need right now, I suggest we shelve that particular topic.”
“That’s fine,” Remington said. “We’ll make time for it when you get back.”
“Yes, sir. Can you tell me how many hostiles we’re looking at?”
“We read nine vehicles.” Remington’s voice calmed as he focused on the mission.
“Manpower?”
“That’s unknown at this point. The nine vehicles are all light and fast. No heavy rolling stock.”