The Chosen One

The demolition expert appraised the situation. He examined the damaged buildings to determine what it would take to create a pile of rubble so high and deep it would ensure a forty-seven-ton T-72 couldn’t breach it. It wasn’t long before he had his answer.

“I’ll need to demolish the apartment building on the far corner and the storefront on this one. Might have to take down a third building if those two don’t finish the job.”

“How long’s it going to take?”

“Ten . . . fifteen minutes maybe. No longer than that. I’ll start with the apartment. Once I’ve blown it, we’ll have a better idea what more we need to do.”

“Okay. Wait for us to find a place to cover you and then get to it.”

Porter and Abernathy started withdrawing from the crossroads, each hugging the frail edges of the fading afternoon.

“Hey, where are you two going?” Sanders asked. “Don’t leave me in the open by myself. I want you out front, not hiding somewhere behind me.”

The pair stopped and looked at each other. Grins spread from the corners of their mouths.

“Charlie,” Porter answered, “think about what you just said. We’ve got to be behind you. If we’re in front when you destroy the first building and you succeed in blocking things, how do you propose we get back on this side?”

A sheepish smile came over Sanders’s filthy face. “Oh yeah. What the hell am I saying? Man, I’m tired. Three days without sleep has scrambled my brain. And this headache I’ve been walking around with for the better part of the afternoon isn’t helping.”

“Look,” Abernathy said, “after what we’ve gone through, no one’s thinking clearly. And neither of us wants to be on this assignment any more than you. But we’ve got a job to do. So let’s focus the best we can. As soon as we find safe vantage points, you can get started.”

With their rifles at the ready, the duo turned and edged down the roadway. Thirty yards behind, they took up covering positions in heavily shaded doorways. Sanders turned toward them. Even to his skilled eyes, neither was visible. He nervously glanced at the deserted streets around him.

The Sahara winds suddenly stilled. In the distance an abandoned dog, its belly empty, eerily howled. Sanders glanced toward the east once more, searching for his cohorts’ hiding places. He knew they were there, watchful and vigilant. Yet for the life of him, he could find no trace of either. The apprehensive engineer had never felt more alone, or more vulnerable, in his life. He could sense death’s whisper lingering in the twilight, waiting for him to make a mistake.

“You two better stay alert for the bad guys,” he mumbled. “It’s my ass hanging out here.”

With the deepest hues of a developing dusk taking hold of what remained of the day, Sanders edged across the broad street. He stopped in front of the four-story apartment and took another hurried look around. Everything was strangely quiet. Not a single sound or hint of movement reached his well-defined senses. There were no signs of friend or enemy alike. He reached into his rucksack and withdrew the explosives.

It wasn’t long before the job was completed and the lethal team on the move again. The destruction of two buildings was all it took to ensure Mourad’s tanks would find the critical intersection impassable. Four blocks north and one farther west waited their next objective.

Other than a brief pause for Porter and Abernathy to slit the throats of a couple of careless sentries, everything was on schedule.

The second crossing, smaller and already partially blocked by the haphazard remains of several decrepit dwellings, wasn’t as challenging as the first had been. The task was effortlessly accomplished, and in minutes they were on their way. Night was falling full upon them.

Two blocks north and one east, toward their own lines, waited their final responsibility. Hiding behind the ongoing prayers, the deadly assembly arrived without incident.

Yet as they reached their last objective evening prayers came to an end.

“Okay,” Abernathy said, “here’s the third one. Sanders, how many buildings do you need to take down to do the job?”

He surveyed the scene. Every timeless structure in the area had suffered severe damage from the Chosen One’s artillery attacks.

“Just this one right here,” he said. He pointed to an old six-story hotel on the southwest corner. He glanced at the nearly indistinguishable sign on the front of the run-down building. In the half-light he could make out the words Hotel Louraine.

“Reminds me of an old fleabag hotel I stayed in while passing through Memphis a few years back. The place was a dump. But the girl across the hall soon made me forget all about it. You know, I think her name might have been Louraine. Or something like that. Sure made for one hell of a weekend. Man, that woman was wild, and more than eager for some Sanders action.”

“Here we are in the middle of nowhere. The Mahdi’s soldiers are probably crawling all around us,” Porter said, “and Charlie’s thinking of a woman.”

“Yep. We could be dead before we knew what hit us,” Abernathy added. “Leave it up to Sanders to see a dumpy hotel and find a girl to reminisce about.”

“If you’d have seen her, you’d be reminiscing too,” Sanders answered. “But enough of that Louraine. Once I’m through, this one will leave a pile of rubble twenty feet high right in the middle of the road. Nothing will be able to get through here.”

“Do you have enough explosives to finish the job?” Abernathy asked.

“Hell, it won’t take much. This place is so rickety if you breathe on it hard it’s likely to fall. In ten minutes, it’ll be nothing but a pile of sticks and mortar. And we’ll be on our way to rest, relaxation, and pursuit of the opposite sex. I can’t wait for those women the captain promised.”

“You should be so lucky,” Porter said. “I suspect as soon as we get back, Captain Morrow won’t remember one word of what he’s told us. So before you get carried away with your erotic visions, wait for us to find a good spot to cover you.”

The stealthy pair crept into the darkness. Eighty feet east, Abernathy and Porter dropped into the gloom on opposite sides of the foreboding street. Sanders glanced in their direction. He’d seen exactly where they’d entered the frail wisps of light, yet neither was visible. He knew they were there. Yet for the life of him, he couldn’t tell where. He shook his head in amazement at their remarkable abilities.

“I swear those two aren’t human,” he muttered, his words barely audible. “The way they appear and disappear. The devil himself must have trained them to do what they do.”

He started attaching the explosives to the final building. A smile came to his haggard face. It was nearly over. The weight of this last mission had been lifted from his shoulders.

Sanders, however, had relaxed too soon.

Porter sensed their presence well before he saw them. In the distance, a strong infantry force was moving down the narrow street. Leapfrogging from building to building, the careful Pan-Arabs edged forward. There appeared to be close to one hundred in their number. For now, there was no need for the Green Berets to panic. The point element of Mourad’s soldiers was two blocks away. Porter signaled to Abernathy. The senior sergeant indicated his awareness of the approaching formation. Both crouched in the black void of the filthy gutters, watching their adversaries’ movements. So far, none of the Americans had been spotted by the advancing enemy.

Busy with his preparations to destroy the aging building, and forever lost in his burgeoning fantasies of soft beds and beautiful women, Sanders didn’t notice the threat drawing near.

“How many do you count?” Porter whispered.

“Can’t tell. But it’s way more than we can handle,” was Abernathy’s response.

“Want me to slip up there and get Charlie?”

“Negative. There are too many watchful eyes coming this way. Even as good as you are, there’s not much

chance of getting to him without being spotted. If that happens, he’ll have no chance. And they’ll likely get you too.”

“What’re we going to do?”

“We’re going to wait. Maybe they’ll turn onto one of the side streets, or Sanders will spot them and figure a way out.”

Unfortunately, the young Green Beret was too distracted by his idyllic dreams to worry about the growing danger.