it’s booby-trapped. Tell them we’re going to check the rest of the ship for the crew, and then we’ll abandon ship. We’ll be off in”—he checked his watch quickly, suddenly feeling the time pressure ofthe explosives on the bridge—“ten minutes.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” he said.
“And give them a posit from your GPS,” Armstrong added, referring to their handheld Global Positioning System receiver that gave them an exact readout of their latitude and longitude.
“Yes, sir,” the SEAL replied.
Armstrong addressed the other SEALs. “We’ll go find the rest of the crew. Be careful. There may be more surprises. There may still be some sleepers aboard—looking to do the suicide thing. Give ’em the opportunity if they’re looking for it. Otherwise, we’re gonna get off this ship before this little present they left us”—he glanced to the deck—“goes bang.” He looked at his watch. “We have no idea how long we have. Could be seconds, or hours. We’re going to be on this ship exactly ten more minutes. After that, I want everybody over the side. And I mean over the side. Don’t walk aft and do it the easy way; jump off and swim away if you’re not off by then.” To Lee,
“Get the motors going on the boats. We’ll need to get a hundred yards away as soon as we’re in them. I don’t want ’em pulled down if this thing starts to blow.” He ordered another SEAL to override the fire doors within the ship to avoid being trapped. He paused to think. No one spoke. “Let’s go,” he said quietly and headed toward the door.
The radioman ran to Armstrong’s side. “Sir, it’s the 53,” he said. “They’ve spotted three fast movers. Three cigarette boats heading west, about ten miles from here. They’re asking if they should go check them out.”
Armstrong shook his head quickly. “No, they’ll need to maintain their thirty-second orbit to come get us. Tell them to relay the position to the E-2.”
The radioman nodded and relayed the OIC’s message.
Armstrong led his men down the ladders into the interior of the ship. No sounds at all. No one calling or yelling. He ran down the passageway checking each hatch. He found another body handcuffed to a pipe fitting,slumped over a table, one bullet hole in the side of the head, with an identical bomb on the deck at his feet. Armstrong’s face turned red with rage. He checked the body to see if it was booby-trapped. It wasn’t.
They ran on, down the ladders and decks, dreading each turn. They finally turned another corner on a dead run. It was the same thing. Crewman, shot once in the head, handcuffed to the bulkhead, a bomb at his feet.
They ran faster and faster, one location to another, as Armstrong tried to find every crewman, without having to backtrack. Another one. Dead.
“Let’s get outta here!” Armstrong yelled, suddenly fearing the corpses had been placed just to get them into the bowels of the ship in time for the bombs to explode. “Everyone to the fantail.”
Armstrong turned and headed that way. As he did, his feet were jarred off the deck for an instant by a huge explosion. It started with a deep boom and then a pounding crack as the sound wave made its way directly into his face in one tenth of a second.
Armstrong spoke into his throat mike. “Talk to me, Lee, what the hell was that?”
Lee’s voice came through strained and full of static. “Prager, sir! He must have dicked it up!”
“Shit!” Armstrong yelled as he ran back the way he had come, the other two SEALs following, having heard the same conversation.
“Did he try and clip a wire?” he asked, looking around for other mines as he ran.
“Don’t know, sir!”
A thought suddenly hit Armstrong. “How do we know he dicked it up? How do we know that wasn’t just the first one to go off on a timer?”
“I guess we don’t, sir!” Lee said, realizing the implications.
“Everybody out! Everybody out!” Armstrong shouted into his throat mike.
“Aye, aye, sir,” he said.
“And give them a posit from your GPS,” Armstrong added, referring to their handheld Global Positioning System receiver that gave them an exact readout of their latitude and longitude.
“Yes, sir,” the SEAL replied.
Armstrong addressed the other SEALs. “We’ll go find the rest of the crew. Be careful. There may be more surprises. There may still be some sleepers aboard—looking to do the suicide thing. Give ’em the opportunity if they’re looking for it. Otherwise, we’re gonna get off this ship before this little present they left us”—he glanced to the deck—“goes bang.” He looked at his watch. “We have no idea how long we have. Could be seconds, or hours. We’re going to be on this ship exactly ten more minutes. After that, I want everybody over the side. And I mean over the side. Don’t walk aft and do it the easy way; jump off and swim away if you’re not off by then.” To Lee,
“Get the motors going on the boats. We’ll need to get a hundred yards away as soon as we’re in them. I don’t want ’em pulled down if this thing starts to blow.” He ordered another SEAL to override the fire doors within the ship to avoid being trapped. He paused to think. No one spoke. “Let’s go,” he said quietly and headed toward the door.
The radioman ran to Armstrong’s side. “Sir, it’s the 53,” he said. “They’ve spotted three fast movers. Three cigarette boats heading west, about ten miles from here. They’re asking if they should go check them out.”
Armstrong shook his head quickly. “No, they’ll need to maintain their thirty-second orbit to come get us. Tell them to relay the position to the E-2.”
The radioman nodded and relayed the OIC’s message.
Armstrong led his men down the ladders into the interior of the ship. No sounds at all. No one calling or yelling. He ran down the passageway checking each hatch. He found another body handcuffed to a pipe fitting,slumped over a table, one bullet hole in the side of the head, with an identical bomb on the deck at his feet. Armstrong’s face turned red with rage. He checked the body to see if it was booby-trapped. It wasn’t.
They ran on, down the ladders and decks, dreading each turn. They finally turned another corner on a dead run. It was the same thing. Crewman, shot once in the head, handcuffed to the bulkhead, a bomb at his feet.
They ran faster and faster, one location to another, as Armstrong tried to find every crewman, without having to backtrack. Another one. Dead.
“Let’s get outta here!” Armstrong yelled, suddenly fearing the corpses had been placed just to get them into the bowels of the ship in time for the bombs to explode. “Everyone to the fantail.”
Armstrong turned and headed that way. As he did, his feet were jarred off the deck for an instant by a huge explosion. It started with a deep boom and then a pounding crack as the sound wave made its way directly into his face in one tenth of a second.
Armstrong spoke into his throat mike. “Talk to me, Lee, what the hell was that?”
Lee’s voice came through strained and full of static. “Prager, sir! He must have dicked it up!”
“Shit!” Armstrong yelled as he ran back the way he had come, the other two SEALs following, having heard the same conversation.
“Did he try and clip a wire?” he asked, looking around for other mines as he ran.
“Don’t know, sir!”
A thought suddenly hit Armstrong. “How do we know he dicked it up? How do we know that wasn’t just the first one to go off on a timer?”
“I guess we don’t, sir!” Lee said, realizing the implications.
“Everybody out! Everybody out!” Armstrong shouted into his throat mike.
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