Apache Dawn by - (dark books to read .txt) 📖

ignored the twitching porcine-like corpse and stepped right into the dark puddle at his feet.

The big airman sporting an M-4, who was built like an All-Pro Linebacker, had to be Sergeant Thompson. He had the mean, dimwitted face of a natural-born bully and lickspittle. Lucky for him, he was also stunned by seeing the head of his CO explode right in front of his own eyes. Cooper waited for the man to regain his senses and focus on the SEAL in front of him with a rifle pointed at his face.

His peripheral vision showed the other men crowding around Thompson in the hallway were frozen in fear or surprise. That suited Cooper just fine—he let the laser come to rest on Thompson’s chest, sure the bigger man could see the red light was now blazing directly at center mass.

“You in charge?” Cooper demanded in the coolest, most unemotional voice he could muster.

“Y-yeah.”

“Don’t be stupid. Tell your men to drop their weapons, and no one else has to die.” Cooper could hear the rest of his team moving into position behind him. More red dots were appearing on the chests and faces of the airmen nearest Thompson. To his satisfaction, Cooper could hear weapons already clattering to the floor behind the burly enforcer. The big airman frowned and glanced over his shoulder.

“Now it’s just you and me, bub. What’s it gonna be? Hands up or face down?”

Sergeant Thompson lowered his weapon but held it tight. “You got the drop on me, s’all.” He shrugged. “Put your gun down and I’ll break you in half.”

Cooper looked at Jax in complete surprise.

“Oh, hell no,” said Jax, incredulous. He took a step forward and lowered his rifle. “C’mon Coop, let me take his ass out.”

Cooper smiled and waved Jax off. He started to lower his own rifle. Thompson dropped his rifle and bum-rushed him with an angry shout. Cooper easily sidestepped the large fist that made a breeze against his cheek as it went past.

The big airman turned faster than Cooper thought possible and swung with his other fist. Cooper got his free arm up to block fast enough, but the strength behind the punch was unexpected. His arm shuddered under the impact as if Thompson had swung a baseball bat. Cooper was pushed backwards and spun sideways to regain his balance. He had to drop his rifle and duck to avoid taking one in the temple.

“Take his ass out, Coop!” Charlie yelled.

He heard Mike laugh. “C’mon, man, we got shit to do. I could’ve dropped him by now with one arm tied behind my back…”

Cooper grunted and backpedaled, blocking the flurry of punches thrown at his face. It was all he could do to stay on his feet. The enraged man before him was like a machine.

The airman checked his last punch and Cooper moved to block, letting the other fist connect with his torso. Cooper ignored the pain in his ribs and focused on the odd sensation of his heels lifting off the ground.

Enough of this shit, Cooper said to himself, feeling his anger catch fire.

The airman took a breath, leaned forward and threw another mighty punch, straight for Cooper’s face. Cooper moved just a fraction of an inch inside the punch, grabbed the man’s wrist as it approached, then twisted and pulled with all his strength. Thompson gasped in surprise as he found himself flung through the air onto his back.

Quick as a snake, the bigger man was back on his feet and charging with a scream of rage. This time, Cooper held his ground. In a smooth motion, almost nonchalantly, he stepped forward, spread his thumb from his fingers, and jabbed his left arm, straight out into the throat of his attacker. Cooper pulled the hit back at the last possible second—he had no desire to kill the hulking thug, just teach him a lesson.

The lesson was learned fast. Like a matador side-stepping a charging bull, Cooper swung his arm free and stepped farther into the hallway as Thompson crashed to his knees, clutching at his throat and gasping for air. Without looking, Cooper swung his left elbow back and connected with the back of Thompson’s head, sending the big man sprawling face first onto the floor, still choking in a blind rage.

Jax laughed, the sound echoed down the corridor loudly. He fist-bumped Cooper. “Hardcore, baby.”

Cooper squatted to pick up his rifle and raised it again, watching the wide-eyed MPs in the hallway. He rolled his neck, to the accompaniment of several loud cracks as he stood. He sighed, then looked at the men lining the hallway.

“So, who’s reaching for the sky? Or does anyone else want to choose ‘face down’? ‘Cause I don’t have time for any more bullshit.” He chambered a round in his rifle.

All the hands in the hallway went up.

He turned around and saw Thompson struggle to get to his knees, his face purple but regaining its natural color. He shakily raised both hands with a meek expression on his face. He did not meet Cooper’s eyes. Still, Cooper allowed himself to relax only after the MPs were secured with their own handcuffs and plastic ties.

“Charlie,” Cooper said, turning his back so the prisoners couldn’t hear.

“Yeah?” said his XO, moving to join him.

“Take a few of the ones who look ready to cry into the comms room. We’re gonna let them go—”

“What?” Charlie hissed. He shot a look at the prisoners. “Man, they just just tried to kill us!”

“Wrong—the base CO did, and that big guy Thompson was his enforcer. I’m pretty sure most of them didn’t want to go along with—”

“Coop…remember Tehran?” he whispered.

Cooper did indeed remember that hellish day during the aftermath of The Pandemic. In the blink of an eye, he could smell the dusty streets, the street vendors and their spices, the exotic heat of the place.

He remembered the back alley where they’d found their man and were about to hightail it out of the area when some kids playing soccer of all things stumbled on them. Swede had wanted to kill them all to ensure mission success. Charlie had been inclined to go along with Swede but Cooper could not—would not kill innocent children. Rather than lose valuable time arguing, Cooper made a snap decision and they moved on, only to be confronted by the beginnings of an angry mob around the corner. The kids had ratted them out.

It had been a slaughter. A full-strength SEAL team fully loaded for war packs an awesome punch. Later, when push came to shove, they shoved the hardest and mowed over anyone who stood in their way. If Cooper had decided to end the life of those handful of kids, it would've saved dozens of lives in the long run. Reliving that awful choice still gave Cooper nightmares when he had too much to drink, but he didn’t have the luxury to regret his decision for one second. After all, he was still around to have nightmares.

Cooper took a deep breath and pulled himself back into the present. He looked around and saw frightened nurses treating wounded and exhausted Secret Service agents. Some of his rough-around-the-edges SEALs were even lending a hand and seeing to some very nervous airmen. He shook his head.

“Man, this is not Tehran. Those are Americans—our brothers in arms. We’re up to our neck in North Koreans topside and we need every man we can get. Now cut ‘em loose.”

“I’m not saying we kill ‘em,” replied Charlie in a defensive tone. “Tehran was before I met Allie…before…” He swallowed. “Before my kid. It’s hard not to think of getting back to my family in all this shit, you know? If I wasn’t who I am…man, I’d be tearing my way through every NKor up there to get to Allie and Charlie.” He sniffed and looked away for a moment. Then, “Could I do what I suggested back in Tehran, now? No way. But…cutting them loose? We need—”

Cooper spun and dropped to a knee, rifle raised. He heard footsteps. “Striker, we got incoming,” he whispered into his mic.

Charlie crouched next to Cooper, the argument forgotten. Muffled voices drifted down the hallway. Cooper could hear faint words, and a voice that sounded like it carried authority, but the only word he could really hear was “traitors.” He tensed as the sounds grew closer. It was definitely more than just one or two people approaching. Here we go again…

“Stay frosty,” Cooper warned. “No one opens up until I give the signal.”

“Hooyah,” someone replied in a whisper.

One of the prisoners started to pray, his body shaking in fear. Cooper did a quick scan of them, all lined up along the corridor behind him, and saw mostly round eyes and sweaty foreheads. His SEALs were spread out along the corridor and guarding the entrance to the comms room. The airmen would be sitting ducks and caught in the crossfire if a firefight erupted. And they knew it.

The sound of the approaching footsteps slowed and stopped just around the closest corner. Cooper held a fist up in the air: hold your fire. He heard some more whispers that sounded almost like commands, then a single set of footsteps grew louder.

A man in Air-Force-gray BDUs walked calmly around the corner, pistol in hand, as if he were on a parade ground. The way he carried himself screamed officer. As the sound of the officer’s boots echoed off the linoleum floor down the hallway, Cooper counted to five in his head. Then he switched on the laser sight of his gun and aimed for center mass.

“That’s far enough, bub.”

It had the desired effect. The man froze and spread his arms out wide.

“I don’t know who you are, but I’m on your side,” the man said. The voice