Conrad shut the van’s engine off and killed the headlights. Suddenly it was dead quiet; nothing could be heard except the faint sound of the wind and the rustling of our equipment.
“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Tailor said, his face illuminated by the small screen on his GPS. “What the hell? We’re even farther from the target than we were at the fort!”
“Hey man, are we in the right place?” I asked, approaching the driver’s side door of the van. Conrad had gotten out and was leaning against the van. He reached underneath his 5.11 vest and retrieved a pack of cigarettes.
“We’re in the right spot,” he said nonchalantly, lighting up. “Your ride will be here shortly. Smoke ’em if you got ’em.” Tailor just shrugged, leaned against the van himself, and lit up a cigarette.
Minutes ticked by. None of us spoke. I gazed up into the night sky; it was the first time I’d been able to see the stars since I’d arrived in Zubara. I don’t think any of us wanted to ruin the rare quiet moment we were having.
The quiet was suddenly interrupted by a low beeping sound. Conrad pulled out a device that looked like a pager and read the little display.“Your ride is here,” he said, putting the gadget back into his pocket. Tailor and I looked around. No lights could be seen on the road. Not a single car had driven by in the few minutes we’d been standing there.
“Where?” I asked. Conrad just shook his head like I was stupid. A moment later, I heard a dull thwup-thwup-thwup noise. It sounded like a helicopter off in the distance.
“Is that a chopper?” Tailor asked.
“Something like that,” Conrad said. I wondered what in the hell he was being so coy about. I quickly found out. The thwupping noise grew louder, but the helicopter still sounded far off in the distance, and it was difficult to tell which direction it was coming from. Then I saw a black shape slowly moving across the sky; the helicopter was a lot closer than it sounded.
“Now, what the hell is that?” Tailor asked as the helicopter approached.
“I have no idea,” I said. Seeing new and strange things had become the theme of the evening, it seemed. I’m something of an aviation buff. As a matter of fact, I have a private pilot’s license. But I’d never seen anything like the machine that was setting down in the desert in front of us.
It wasn’t very big, maybe the size of an old Huey. Its hull was painted black and was made up of oddly curved and faceted surfaces. The chopper looked like a bastard love-child of a Huey and the RAH-66 Comanche. It kicked up a cloud of white dust as it touched down onto the bleached, rocky Zubaran desert, but it still was ridiculously quiet. The muted whine of turbine engines could be heard over the dull thwupping of the rotor. The rotor blades themselves appeared to be very wide and were oddly shaped.
“It’s a stealth helicopter,” I said, somewhat in disbelief. There I was, working for a secret government organization, engaged in an honest-to-goodness black operation, and I was about to climb onto a genuine black helicopter. I shook my head. Tailor laughed to himself.
The chopper settled onto the desert floor, and an off-kilter-looking door slid open on the side of the fuselage. The interior cabin was lit with a red light.
“Let’s go!” Tailor said, slapping me on the shoulder. He took off toward the chopper at a jog, and I followed. We both crouched down as we approached the aircraft. The unbelievably quiet rotor was still turning. We climbed into the small cabin. A bench was in the middle, with five seats facing outward on each side. As we sat down and strapped ourselves in, the sliding door closed itself.
“Here,” the copilot said, reaching back toward me. He was wearing a black flight suit and a helmet with night-vision goggles mounted on it. He handed me a bulky little flash drive. “Updated mission information.” I took it from him and handed it to Tailor. Tailor pulled the PDA out of its pouch on his vest and plugged the drive into it. We both studied the screen as the helicopter lifted off, carrying us into the night sky.
I closed my eyes briefly, trying not to think about my last ride in a helicopter.
“Thirty seconds!” the copilot said. “We won’t touch down.” Tailor and I nodded. The stealth helicopter was running dark, flying low over the desert floor toward the village of Umm Bab. We were slowing down now. I unbuckled my seat belt and readied myself.
“We’re at the LZ!” the pilot said. The door on the chopper slid open. Cool, dusty desert air rushed in. “Now!” Without replying, Tailor stood up, made his way to the door, and jumped out into the darkness. Following suit, I stepped up to the door, bent down, and jumped out.
We were a little higher up than I thought. I landed hard, swearing aloud as I flopped onto the rocky desert floor, rolling onto my side. We were so obscured by fine dust that I could hardly see anything. Tailor grabbed me and pulled me upright as the muted sounds of the stealth helicopter faded away. The dust cloud began to settle, leaving us alone in the desert.
“Where are we?” I asked as I quietly chambered a round on my weapon.
“That’s Umm Bab over there.” He pointed toward the amber lights in the distance. “Control, Xbox,” Tailor whispered into his headset. “We’re on the ground.”
“Copy that, Xbox,” Sarah replied. “Proceed to the target.” There was some static interference as she spoke. We were a long way from the fort.
“Roger,” Tailor replied. “Let’s move, Val.” Flipping down his night-vision goggles, he took off toward Umm Bab at a fast walk, submachine gun held at the low-ready. I pulled my own NVGs down over my eyes and turned them on. The dark desert was now bright green. The stars overhead were incredibly bright, and the lights of Umm Bab were almost blinding.
I stood up and followed Tailor. I unfolded the stock on my weapon and turned on the holographic sight, setting it for night-vision mode. Carrying the assault ladder on my back, I moved through the darkness in silence. It took us a long time to reach the outskirts of the village. The moon was set to rise at 0122, and we wanted to be out of the open desert before that happened.
Tailor broke into a run and took cover behind a high wall that surrounded a large house. Once he was in place, he signaled for me to follow while he kept a lookout. I quickly ran to him, crouching down next to him against the wall. “Over there,” he said. “The target house is just down this street. Follow me to the alley. Watch out for dogs.” In Zubara, like many Middle Eastern countries, one could occasionally find packs of feral dogs roaming the streets.
Tailor nodded, stood up, and quietly moved toward the alley. I followed, constantly watching our backs while Tailor led the way. We came to the end of the wall. Tailor leaned around it. He used hand signals to tell me it was clear, then disappeared.
Checking our six one last time, I peeked around the corner. Tailor was a few meters up the alley, crouched behind a large trash bin, waiting for me. I could see no other movement in the alley, and mercifully no lights. The alley itself was narrow, barely wide enough for a truck to drive down. The back walls of compounds lined either side. There was no movement, except for single a black cat trotting along the wall. I signaled for Tailor to advance again. He moved forward, another twenty meters or so, before crouching down in front of a parked pickup truck. The cat took off running and disappeared. Tailor leaned around the vehicle and signaled for me to move forward. In this fashion we leapfrogged toward our target as quietly as possible.