The weapons cache was approximately one hundred metres northwest according to the GPS unit he was provided with. He knew that he had to destroy it regardless of his own fate. When he was briefed on this assignment, he did not believe the situation would turn out this way. If he made it out of this alive, perhaps he would reconsider the gravity of future assignments in memory of this one.
“Come in Command, do you read me?” Private Richard Head heard a whizzing sound and soft static from his earpiece that sounded like a digitally distorted recording of a chirping bird. After a few seconds, the static subsided to a whisper and Command responded.
“This is Command, go ahead,” a man responded. His voice was soothingly authoritative like a football coach making a speech before a big game.
The bird continued singing softly as the two communicated, “This is callsign Delta Fubar on Operation SnD-Six-Nine. All units but one KIA,” whispered Richard into his microphone. “Is there any intel on the number of hostiles in the Altai region? Over.”
“Delta Fubar, our allied reconnaissance patrols reported an approximate ten hostiles in your area. However, be advised, some hostiles may not have been spotted by LRRP if hidden from sight. Proceed with caution. Over.”
Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol was never one hundred percent on numbers, he had to assume there were at least three more hostiles. As he became mentally wary, Richard leaned back on a wall, tilted his head upward, and let out a long, silent sigh. The dark, blue walls of the abandoned gas station did little to motivate him into action, but he knew where he could find some.
He lifted his left arm up and rolled his sleeve up, revealing a picture of the only person who could motivate him to accomplish anything he set his mind to. Her smile and deep, green eyes sparkled with such luminosity even in the barren gas station. He could never let that face down, and he knew he would wake up tomorrow and fall in love with her again and again. But first he had to move. He pulled his sleeve down to protect her from the atrocities of war, and the inexorable death that would soon occur.
Private Head took a good look around the gas station one last time. It had clearly been abandoned long ago with no activity recently. Even the glass shards from the shattered windows were plagued with dust and cobwebs. The only signs of life were the fresh path of footprints he had left when he entered from the entrance which was to his right. He would use this as bait. If he made himself appear like a larger force, perhaps he could lure more than one Russian into his trap.
Head knew this was the time to use that C4 he had been holding onto. He carefully activated the three explosive packs and stuck them to the ceiling and walls around the entrance where they would be difficult to spot. He also made more footprints, mischievously pretending to face the windows and cover the entrance.
Firing his weapon and revealing his position from within the gas station or anywhere nearby would be suicide. He had to find another way to lure the Ruskis. According to his watch, it was 1337, god knows in what time zone.
His watch…he could use the digital alarm to lure them in. He set the alarm for 1345, more than enough time to find a suitable area that would allow him to survey the entrance. He dropped it on the ground, retraced his footprints backwards and dashed out of the station as quietly and as low as he could.
About ten metres ahead there was a small shack made of sheet metal, and to the left of it, a downhill road leading to what appeared to be a trainyard. The trainyard would obscure his view of the gas station, so he decided to stay in the shack. The GPS on his left wrist now indicated his target was eighty-seven metres northwest. His wrist looked a naked without his watch, but he could not focus on anything else.
Head hugged the corner of the shack close to the entrance where he could easily see the gas station. He took out the detonator from a compartment in his vest and prepped it as the LED melted from a blood red to a lime green, which was a more cheerful green than the foliage around the abandoned building. He held the detonator tightly in his right hand, his thumb a few centimetres at bay and waited the remaining eternity of five minutes.
How he would handle the rest of the hostiles, he did not know, but he knew his next objective would have to be to retrieve the briefcase with the explosives. Corporal Ramirez was the Engineer of the team, and he was in charge of leading the left flank. Luckily for Head, he had already gone west thirteen metres. Unfortunately, he had no clue if the Russians had already investigated the bodies and found the explosives. He’d probably have to lure them into a different trap, or at least hope this one would distract them long enough to get to Ramirez’s corpse. He could buy further time by—the alarm rang.
He traded in his tactical stream of consciousness to focus his eyes and ears on the gas station.
He heard Russians in the distance, what sounded like orders being shouted, followed by quick, heavy footsteps.
There was faint rustling opposite the side of sheet metal behind him. There was one tango approaching from the trainyard. Maybe more.
He saw two tangos working their way towards the gas station from the left. They were armed with assault rifles and wore little armor. Their light brown uniform made them easy to spot, especially in this murky, polluted environment. Head also noticed that they wore gas masks with a small respirator hanging loosely in front of them like an elephant trunk. The soldier in front turned his head right, his trunk quickly imitating the motion, and signaled his comrade—or comrades—to move in.
Luckily, he was hidden at the shack’s entrance; neither of the two parties could see him.
The alarm continued to occupy everyone’s attention, stinging the air, as the three Spetsnaz stacked up at the sides of the entrance.
The one who Head saw first took a capsule from his belt and tossed it inside. There was a sound of metal bouncing against the tile floor, followed by a quick flash and a loud bang, after which the Spetsnaz rushed in aggressively.
Head wanted to wait a few seconds to see if any other Russians would reveal their positions, but the three in his view had already found the watch and were about to start spreading out. He knew he couldn’t risk going in and exposing himself; it was much too dangerous. Before they started snooping around, he forced his thumb to squeeze the black trigger.
Written 07.14.2011
