[Zeus....DAMMIT!]

Thank you.

I do like the detail...jsut wasnt sure about the beginning (brain fart)

[Sapper]

Chapter Twenty-One: A Word, If You Will

Flint quietly placed his grapnel and rope into his pack, then stowed it in a wood pile.  He pulled his knife from a sheaf in his boot and approached the nearest guard.  Silently, he positioned himself behind the man and placed the knife deep into his throat, drawing blood, covering his mouth with his hand at the same time.  He whispered to the man to remain quiet in broken Pashtu (the predominant language spoke in that region).  The man was shaking from fear, but did as he was told.  Flint ordered the man to take him to the tribe elder, and the man began walking toward the living area.

When Flint and his escort got to the main door, the man called out to the elder inside.  The metal door creaked open and a young girl in a burka grew wide eyed as she saw Flint holding a knife to the man.  She quickly moved out of the way and retreated to a corner, controlling her instincts to scream.  A man, bathed in firelight, jumped to his feet at the image before him.  He began yelling, and Flint pointed the pistol at him.

In broken Pashtu, Flint demanded that the elder sit down and to get him some chai.  The elder said a few words to the young girl, who went to another room and then returned with two mugs of steaming hot tea.  Flint pushed his prisoner down on a pillow in the corner and then sat down across from the elder.  He asked if the man knew English, and the elder responded that he did.

"I'll get right to the point."  Flint began.  "You are no longer in charge of this compound.  I'm taking command here, and you will support me."

"This is very unwelcome."  The elder stated calmly.  "We are managing fine without your presence."

"Be that as it may, I'm here anyway, and this is how it's going to work now.  How many are in your tribe?"

"We have fifty men, fifteen are heads of family."  The elder replied.

Flint understood this.  The elder only talks in terms of males.  The women and children are just ancillary to the number of men.  Men, in this case, includes any boy old enough to raise a weapon in combat.  Therefore, there are fifteen families in this qalat, and within those families there are perhaps two or three male children who are counted as men.  Flint estimated by this that there were probably another fifty women and children.

"How many guns do you have?  How much ammunition?"

The elder turned away, and Flint repeated his questions more clearly.  The elder replied, "Every man has a rifle, and every rifle has a home with food, water, and ammunition."

"I'll need your bravest man who speaks English to be my aide, and I'll need your strongest twenty men to be my soldiers.  Have them ready for battle at dawn."  Flint ordered.

The elder's eyes averted just briefly, giving Flint all the information he needed.  He ducked and turned with his pistol already off of safe, and fired a clean two round burst at the man sneaking up behind him.  The body fell and Flint stood up to his full height and fired another round through the man's head.

Turning back to the elder, he said "You need to get your men in line, or this will end very badly for all of you."

The elder motioned for the young girl to come near him.  He whispered something in her ear, and she ran out of the room.  "What is your objective, soldier, and why are you terrorizing my tribe?"

"You'll learn soon enough, that the fewer questions you ask, the more likely I'll leave you all alone in due time."  Flint then pointed at the body, pointed at the guard who he had told to escort him to the elder, and in broken Pashtu said, "burn it."  Then he walked into the adjacent room to where the women had all remained during the discussion.  He went back into the elder's room and said, "I'll need a woman, the young one in blue, she's about fifteen, yeah?"

The elder's eyes filled with anger, and Flint pointed his pistol at the man, "about fifteen, right?"

The elder lowered his gaze and nodded.  Flint walked back over to the young girl and grabbed her by the back of the neck, telling her to stand up and come with him.  She began crying, but did as she was ordered.  The elder began to stand up and was yelling at Flint.  Flint aimed and fired one shot through the elder's forehead, then turned and pointed it at the three men walking through the door at that moment.  They stopped when they saw what was happening.  Flint told them to get the soldiers ready, they'd better be waiting for him at dawn, and he took the young girl to a rear room, leaving the rest of the women trying to muffle their loud sobbing.

[Barry Cade]

Well I for one am pleased this is back! One thing, trust your audience, you don't need to parenthesize (the predominant language...) if we don't know, we'll find out... You wouldn't find someone like Tom Clancy or that Jurassic Park fella doing that, now would ye?

[TangoWhiskey]

^ seconded. I love this story, please keep it up!

[Sapper]

Chapter Twenty-Two: Reorgnization

Sunlight filtered in through the window of the gun truck as Nelson slowly woke up from his shadowy dreams.  Doc peered down at him and checked his pulse.  Hayes was sitting next to Doc, getting new bandages ready to apply to Nelson's wound.

"Sir, you'll be fine, I think there is no risk of infection, but I can't do much for the pain, except some Ibuprofin."

Nelson whinced at the burning and soreness that seemed to strike his entire body radiating from the bullet wound.  "I'll manage, Doc, but I'm thirsty."

Doc handed him a water bottle, and Nelson drank while Hayes redressed his bandages.  "Where's Simmons?"  Nelson asked.

At that, a figure moved in the front of the truck, it was Simmons turning around from the passenger seat.  "Right here, boss."

"Okay, what's the situation?"  Nelson was fully alert now.  "What's our head count, ammo status?"

"We've been through hell while you were out, sir.  We got attacked by that group of zombies that surrounded you on the bunker.  It's bad.  Most of our unit is either dead or turned, the survivors from Orgun-E who stood with the Colonel have taken off with a large amount of our rations.  Bottom line, sir, it's just us in this truck now and Taylor and McGhee in the fuel truck."

"You're shitting me!"  Nelson said.  "Damn, well, okay, so it's you, Hayes, Doc, me, and who's in the turret and driver seat?"

Elliott ducked down from the turret and indicated his presence while Johnson identified himself from behind the wheel.

"Do we have any of the other tucks?"  Nelson tried to look out the window.  He was dismayed by what he saw.  The other trucks that were still out there were covered in blood and bullet holes.  Dead bodies laid all over them and spilled out from inside the open doors.

Simmons noticed the Captain's demeanor and said quietly, "well, sure if you can stand the stench."

Nelson covered his eyes with his hands and thought for a moment.  He felt like there was no use to go on.  His entire unit had been decimated to less than ten, other survivors who he had taken in had perished including a young girl, his equipment was destroyed except one gun truck and one fuel truck, and he had absolutely nowhere to go, to lead these people.  He knew that these thoughts were in the minds of his companions as well, and the somber silence in the truck was oppressive.  Further, he knew that there was a power-hungry dictator on the loose somewhere in the desert who had vowed to kill him and take over the group, and he was virtually useless at fighting while he recovered from a bullet wound. Things couldn't be more depressing than they were right at that moment.

"Simmons," Nelson said bleakly, "we're gonna need..."

The sound of AK-47's and PKM's assaulted the two trucks sitting in the middle of the FOB.  Nelson screamed to Elliott to tell him where the ambush was coming from.  Elliott didn't reply, he was firing to the convoy's 8 O'clock position and reaching for more ammunition.  The gunfire exchange lasted only a few seconds.  After Elliott finished firing, everything was calm, for a moment.  Then the sound of an incoming mortar turned everybody white and forced Elliott to duck inside the truck.  The round struck the ground beside the fuel truck peppering it with shrapnel.  Hayes looked through the window to see smoke and dust around the fueller.  Another round landed about thirty meters in front of the gun truck, sending shards of shredded steal into the truck and a few pieces rattled around inside the truck.  Johnson screamed at the pain of a hot piece of metal tearing into his shoulder.  A third round struck the fuel truck directly in the cab, while an RPG round slammed into the bar armor of the gun truck.  All of this happened in a manner of seconds, and Simmons screamed for Johnson to start driving, to get out of the kill zone.

Johnson, pushed past the hot pain in shoulder and started the engine of the truck, shifted into drive and began rolling toward the gate as a fourth mortar round impacted the ground about forty meters to the left of the driver side of the truck.

Elliott jumped back into the turret and fired at the locals who had shot the RPG at the truck.  He saw one of them fall to the ground while another took cover and tried to fire another round.  He kept firing as the gun truck barreled through the gate of the FOB and out into the desert.

Nelson peered out the back hatch window to see the Stryker which had arrived with Flint following behind them.  Elliott saw it as well and fired a few rounds at the vehicles large wheels, tearing holes in the rubber, causing the vehicle to swerve and stop.  The gunner in the Stryker firing at the gun truck and Elliott firing back.  The gunshots ceased when Johnson managed to get the gun truck out of sight behind a qalat a few hundred meters away, and then Johnson kept driving as fast as possible until darkness fell.

[the Walkin Dude]

Nice....

[Sapper]

Thanks for the encouragement folks, it's nice to still have people reading my story even after being away for four months.