Lethal Game (GhostWalkers 16)

“You ready?” Malichai asked Rubin.

Rubin bent over Jerry. “I’m heading out now, but I’ll be back in time to haul your ass out of here. I want you alive, soldier. You got that? You have a family waiting for you at home. Jack’s right here if you need anything.”

“I’m with you, buddy,” Jack assured and reached out to grip Jerry’s wrist.

Jerry attempted a faint grin. “I’ll be here. Just lying around. Give me a gun. I’m right-handed.”

Rubin looked up to meet Malichai’s questioning gaze. No one wanted Jerry to take his own life. A decision had to be made. His team knew him better than they did. Both men looked to Braden.

“He’d never do that with us needing him. He knows every gun counts,” Braden whispered to Malichai.

Malichai gave the thumbs-up to Rubin, who put a gun on the man’s chest. “It’s loaded. Just point and shoot. Just make certain it isn’t pointed my way.”

“Depends on whether or not these meds wear off before you get back,” Jerry said.

Rubin gave him a grin, another pat and then turned his attention to Jack. “He’s a tough one, but you keep him down until I get back.”

Jack nodded while Jerry made derisive sounds. “That’s my momma, telling me I have to behave myself.”

“You keep that in mind.” Rubin crawled back toward Malichai, staying low. Together, they pulled out their gear and shed their snow clothing.

Their garb was specifically constructed for nighttime raids. They reflected their surroundings and, with their enhancements, it was easy enough to fade into the night. They both were capable of lowering their body temperatures to confuse the night vision goggles and still function without impairment. It was one of Malichai’s least favorite things to do.

“Helicopter will be here at dawn,” Rubin reported. “We’ll be back by then.”

They had to be or that meant they were dead.

Malichai regarded Braden as he shoved weapons into each of the carefully hidden compartments in his clothing. “You stay put. Jack, if he gets some wild hair that he’s coming after us, either sit on him or shoot him in the leg.”

“Not sure that will stop him,” Jack said. “But I’ll be glad to follow those orders, sir.”

Braden let out a groan. “You’re giving way too much authority to a bloodthirsty individual, sir.”

Malichai heard the strain in their voices, although they were trying to hide it with jokes. He gave them a small salute. “At dawn. Be prepared to move out fast.”

“I’ll get right on that, sir,” Jerry said.

Rubin turned and looked at Malichai. Crouching low, they moved to the very edge of the boulder line. The big rocks progressively got smaller, forcing them to go down onto their bellies. Movement always drew the eye. Someone from each of the three bunkers had to have been given the job to watch for anyone trying to sneak out of the encampment, especially after Braden had tripped a few of their traps.

The mountains of Afghanistan were home, in spite of the continual conflicts, to many wild animals, including snow leopards, lions, jackals, fox and the roaming ibex. Any number of animals might have triggered those traps, if Braden hadn’t left tracks for their enemies to find. It didn’t matter, they had to take out those bunkers in order to give the helicopter a chance to land safely and take the wounded home.

He signaled to Rubin to make his way to bunker two first. That was the one with serious firepower and the most experienced of the enemy fighters. If they couldn’t get to all of them, they had to at least kill those in bunker two. It would take an hour to make it across the snow-covered ground if they didn’t want to be seen. During that hour, the hope was the fighters would be taking a much-needed break, eating and, if they were lucky, going to sleep. Malichai would approach from one direction, with Rubin coming in from the opposite side.

Malichai proceeded to move inch by slow inch. He didn’t drag himself because he couldn’t afford to have drag marks be seen in the snow. He had to use his hands and feet to propel his body forward. Always, he had to keep his body inches from the ground. Without his enhanced strength, he could never have accomplished such a thing.

Months earlier, he’d been shot in the leg, but thanks to Rubin’s psychic surgery and the efforts of Joe, another teammate who was very skilled in psychic healing, his leg was stronger than ever. He felt very confident crossing that long expanse of snow to get to his intended target.

His enhancements were not as specialized as some of the other GhostWalkers’ because he was considered an “all-around” soldier. He could find water in a desert twenty-five feet down below the surface. He could go up the side of a sheer mountain, or swim for long periods of time underwater without taking a breath. He was extremely fast underwater. His sense of smell, eyesight and hearing were all very acute.