Direct Action - 03 by Jack Murphy Page A

choice.”
    “I didn't want to compromise our mission in case there are other enemy positions in the area.”
    “This is Afghanistan,” Rick lectured. “No one will notice a few gunshots and besides, what's a little stray gunfire between friends?”
    “Get back in the cab,” Bill motioned the driver who was still gathering his wits. “Let's load up and get rolling. We have hard times to hit.”
    Deckard walked back to the rear of the truck, forcing himself not to favor his bum leg.
    Rick glared at Deckard as he reclaimed his AK and Glock before pulling himself back inside the hidden compartment.
    It was another couple hours in the stifling heat of the closed compartment, bouncing around in the back of the janga truck before the driver stopped again. Liquid Sky disembarked the truck and Bill had a few more words with the driver, both of them taking turns pointing to a ridgeline silhouetted against the starry night sky. Afghanistan had no light pollution, and unlike the Western world, you could see an entire universe of stars out in the badlands of Central Asia.
    Bill slapped the driver on the shoulder and returned to the team.
    “This is our VDO,” he said, announcing their vehicle drop off point. “We will rendezvous with the driver at the exfil point early in the morning.”
    Deckard checked the knock off Rolex watch that had been a part of his issued kit. It was almost midnight and he had a feeling that they would have a long walk ahead of them. Each Liquid Sky member grabbed a couple bottles of water on the way out and shoved them into their pockets. Bill had an old Soviet map in hand and led the patrol up into the mountains.
    The approach to the mountains was hazardous to say the least, and suicidal at worst. They couldn't use flashlights because the light would compromise the patrol, and night-vision goggles were too high tech for a sterile mission that could have no hint of American involvement, mercenary or otherwise. There was enough ambient light for them to slowly feel their way up the side of the mountain, but they still slipped and slid on the soft rock that broke away under their feet. Slowly but surely, Liquid Sky gained in elevation as they climbed towards the ridge above that bumped across the night sky, looking like the broken spine of a dragon.
    Within half an hour of climbing, they were all covered in sweat, their man-dresses soaked through. They drank water while on the move. The former SEALs chugged water and then tossed the water bottles on the rocks. It was bad form to leave any sign of your presence behind, but clearly these guys didn't care. They were on a one-way trip and their only real concern was getting to the target that night and doing the dirty deed. Deckard downed his first bottle of water and followed suit, dropping the plastic bottle behind him.
    Their VDO had left them about a third of the way up the mountain to begin with and now they were climbing higher and higher. At some points it was so steep that they were able to reach out and grab the terrain right in front of them. Bill led the patrol, taking them in winding switchbacks that inched up the ridge when the going got too steep.
    There was nothing technical about their climb, it was good old-fashion LPC's, leather personnel carriers. That and a lot of sweat. Still, they were doing it like the locals, traveling with the bare essentials in weapons and equipment. They were not nearly as weighted down as American soldiers were in body armor and other equipment, so at least they had that going for them.
    The Liquid Sky team took a short five-minute break after climbing the wind-swept rock for another hour. They sipped on what water they had left and tried to let their legs rest as they sat facing downhill. Steam was coming off their overworked bodies in the cool night air. Bill was the first to stand and start the final push to the top of the ridge.
    Forty-five minutes later, the team huffed and grunted over the ridge. Deckard's