RAVEN’S CURSE

Eastern Europe

Classified rescue mission

Five years ago…

“Thirty seconds to infil. We’ve got massive resistance so, we’re going in hot.”

Chase Remington shifted in beside his buddies as Foster Beckett’s voice sounded through his comm unit. Though, for Foster to comment on the conditions, the situation had to be worse than usual. Which meant their intel had been lacking. Again.

Zain Everett and Kash Sinclair — along with Kash’s partner, a feisty German Sheperd named Nyx, strapped to his chest — moved in beside him. Chase shook his head. And Kash thought Chase was crazy carrying his medic bag.

The helicopter swooped in low, rotors thundering through the night, nothing but a hint of moonlight guiding their way. The doors slid open, a mix of mountain air and incoming rain spilling into the cabin. A thick canopy of trees rushed beneath them, the tops black against the indigo sky. 

Foster banked the chopper, skimming the treetops before the forest disappeared, the off-grid compound rising before them like a monolith. A large wall surrounded the collection of buildings, smoke rising from a couple chimneys.

He didn’t slow, eating up the distance before flaring off the speed — bringing the machine into a high hover. Dust kicked up beneath them, their ropes snapping in the downwash as they dropped out of the chopper, the ends pooling on the roof of the building.

Green tracer fire streaked across the sky as gunfire popped through the air. Bullets ricocheted off the struts, their gunner, Rhett Oliver, returning fire.

Rhett waved them on. “Get your asses out the damn door before they’re filled with lead.”

Zain rolled his eyes, then leaped out, racing down the line face first — firing off rounds as he went. He hit the clay tiles all of five seconds later, Kash a step behind him. Chase brought up the rear, boots slamming against the rooftop, the rope slipping free as Rhett reeled it back in. Chase scoured the area for wounded, the voice inside his head poking at him. Based on the amount of resistance, he doubted the mission would go off without injuries.

Zain took up his position as overwatch, already scoping the area as Chase and Kash dropped to the ground, his buddy catching Nyx as she followed him off the roof. Alpha team waved them over, two of the Green Berets taking point. Laying down cover fire as Chase and Kash closed in. After a few hand signals, they took off, hoofing it across an open stretch, then behind one of the peripheral structures. Some kind of shed that creaked as the chopper roared overhead, banking hard to the right before disappearing into the night.

Master Sergeant Eric Dalton, Alpha’s squad leader, wove his way across the compound, stopping at the main building. A red door sat recessed amidst the wood and stone, the frame giving against the force of Dalton’s boot.

He grabbed a canister off his vest, then chucked it inside. The grenade skipped across the floor, each impact sending out a tiny vibration. It spun to a halt, everything freezing for one agonizing moment before it detonated. 

Lights and sound filled the air, smoke billowing out the end. Shouts rose above the ear-piercing wail as people poured out of the rooms, barely taking a couple steps before crumpling.

Dalton twirled his finger, and his team exploded into the building, night vision goggles covering their eyes, rifles notched in their shoulders. Quick, sharp bursts echoed through the space, scattering anyone not already down. Chase followed suit, the night vision’s eerie green hue painting the interior. They swept through the main section and continued down a long hallway, clearing rooms, then moving ahead. Chase covered their six, gun at his shoulder, ready to charge ahead if anyone got hit.

Dust filtered through the air, glowing in the soldiers’ small beams cutting through the darkness. Boots tapped the floor as the men entered a large area, photos and maps pinned to the far wall. Kash jogged ahead, giving Nyx enough slack to work the room. She stopped at a shelving unit, then pawed at the floor, glancing up at Kash.

“Good girl.” Kash reeled her in as Dalton and his weapons’ specialist, Caleb Rios, shouldered up. 

They muscled the shelf to the side, exposing a thick, metal door. Some C4 tacked to the hinges, and the door exploded, clattering to the floor as more smoke filled the air. Shouts echoed from inside, the hostages clutching each other as the team swooped in.

Chase gave them a quick once-over, bodily lifting one woman who wouldn’t budge, gaze fixed straight ahead. Clothes torn. Alpha’s medic, Royce Carver, hiked the woman onto his shoulder, following the rest of his team back through the corridors as Chase swept behind them. 

Rios veered off at the next junction, covering an adjoining hallway when gunfire erupted from the shadows, catching Rios in the neck. He fell hard, blood arcing off the ceiling and walls, his legs spasming. 

Chase took off a heartbeat later, vaulting over a chair before sliding under more rounds. Two seconds flat, and he had his hand cinched around the wound, his bag spread out beside him. Bullets whizzed past, hitting an inch from his head, kicking up bits of wood as they pinged off the floor and walls.

He kept working, clamping off one of the bleeders before packing the whole mess with sponges and gauze — prepping Rios for medevac. More gunfire erupted in the next room, shouts and grunts prickling the hairs on Chase’s neck when his comm unit clicked.

Zain’s voice crackled over the line, steady. Unyielding. “Enemy reinforcements inbound. Get the lead out.”

Chase tied off the bandages, packed up his bag, then lifted the man fireman style, weapon still grasped in one hand. He booked it down the hallway and out the door, scouring the landscape.

The hostages stumbled their way across the grounds, Kash and the others picking up any stragglers. Chase trailed after them, Marcus Hodges, Alpha’s comm tech, guarding his six. Keeping a path open as they raced for the landing zone.

Gravel crunched in the distance, those reinforcements bumping along the main road — headlights slicing through the darkness. His teammates angled right, staying on the periphery, Zain picking off anyone trying to flank them. 

Chase sped up, Rios groaning with every jostle when a band of hostiles stepped out of the shadows, rifles spitting out rounds.

The group separated, Kash and two others veering right — corralling the hostages against the wall as they hauled ass toward the rendezvous site. Dalton and Carver returned fire, until a grenade landed nearby.

The two men hit the ground, the frag exploding a second later. Dirt and shrapnel flew through the air, dust choking off the area in a smothering debris cloud. Chase raced ahead, firing off rounds before he and Hodges ducked behind another small building. Chase eased Rios onto the ground, then chucked out a few canisters, emptying his mag until everything erupted into chaos.

The grenades detonated, a blinding flash slicing through the darkness as an ear-piercing shrill echoed through the air. 

“Cover me.” Chase didn’t wait for Hodges to start shooting, just darted out, dodging gunfire and tripwires before grabbing Dalton and dragging him behind a wall. Chase braced his shoulders against the shed, then raced over to Carver, taking a hit to his vest as he carried the man back.

Hodges took point, doing his best to cover every angle as Chase piled more supplies on Dalton’s legs, quickly triaging the injuries. Carver had multiple shrapnel injuries, the worst chunk poking out from his thigh. Blood dripped from the wounds, soaking into the ground in an increasing black puddle. Dalton had a GSW to his upper shoulder, just outside his vest. No exit wound.

Chase went to work, pouring on clotting powder, doing his best to plug the holes — ready them for medevac. Hodges was on the comms, calling in another chopper, going through his mags in an effort to keep the forces at bay. Rotors sounded in the distance, the deep resonance vibrating through the ground.

Footsteps pounded near the wall, two hostages doubling back — hitting the ground amidst more gunfire. Chase tensed, glancing at the soldiers, then back to the civilians, aware he couldn’t carry them all.

Couldn’t save everyone.

Dalton gave him a shove, hand falling to his lap as if the simple movement had drained his strength. “We’re not dead yet, Remington. We can drag our asses to the medevac chopper. Hodges has our backs. Get them and go.”

Chase clenched his jaw, staring at the increasing pool of blood. The unfocused eyes staring back at him. He readied his rifle, glanced at Hodges, then over to Dalton. The man was already fading, eyes drooping, his weapon resting in his lap.

Dalton coughed, blood splattering across his fatigues. “I said, go.”

Chase pushed down the riotous roil of his gut. The cold reality that he might not make the return trip in time. “I’ll double back once they’re onboard. Ride home with you.”

“Only if we don’t get onto that other chopper, first.”

“You’d better.” Chase took a step — looked back. “I’m sorry.”

He took off, sprinting across the short section — grabbing both women without really slowing. He slung one over his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around the other’s chest — half-carrying her as he bolted for the aircraft. Shouts carried on the wind, grenades and gunfire following in his wake as he picked up speed.

Foster’s chopper waited in a small clearing, the rotors damn near hitting the trees, Rhett rattling through ammo as he cut through the adjoining forest, cracking branches and scattering more forces.

Chase hit the opening at a dead run, Zain curling in behind him when some asshole popped up off to their right, catching Chase twice in the vest. He managed to twist before he hit the ground, keeping the hostages from landing beneath him. A couple reports popped next to him, Zain appearing out of the night as he grabbed the women.

He snagged Chase’s collar — yanked him upright. “Run.”

Chase shook his head, glancing back. “I can’t leave Dalton and the others. Go. I’ll catch a ride with them.”

He took a few stumbling steps, willing his damn lungs to inflate against the fire in his ribs when a whoosh soared overhead.

White light filled Chase’s view, the missile strike bowling him backwards. He cartwheeled across the ground — stars, dirt, repeat. Over and over before he landed on his back, dust and gravel swirling through the air. Smoke burned a line down his throat. A deafening roar sounded in his head.

He coughed, blacked out, rousing when a hand grabbed his vest. Loud pops boomed around him, the odd casing flicking across his body.

Rhett lifted him onto his feet, snugging his arm around Chase’s chest as he kept firing. “Are you nuts?” Rhett backed up, clipping anything that moved, dragging Chase with him. 

Chase shook his head. “Dalton…”

He barely got the man’s name out without puking. Nearly collapsing right there on the ground.

Rhett tightened his grip, catching another tango when he stepped out of the forest. “Medevac’s almost here. They’ll grab anyone still breathing.”

“Rhett, I can’t—”

Rhett stopped next to the chopper, looking Chase dead in the eyes as he heaved him inside. “There were multiple hits.” He swallowed, closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t see how they survived. Regardless, you’re in no shape to rescue anyone, not even yourself. So, plant your ass on the floor, and try not to fucking die before we get you back to base.”

Rhett took up his position, still firing as Foster picked up the chopper, tossed it off to one side and roared out, the doors open as he whizzed overhead, punching through flames and smoke before heading off.

Chase slumped against the bulkhead, blood smeared on his skin. He stared out at the carnage as it faded into the distance, an emptiness settling in his gut. 

I’ll double back…

His own words looped in his head, the hollow tone following him into the darkness.

* * *

“Look who’s still alive.”

Chase chuckled, then grunted, holding his ribs as Rhett sauntered into his hospital room, a ridiculously large pink teddy bear clutched in his hands. He plopped the bear on the end of the bed, looking more than amused with himself.

Chase rolled his eyes. “Seriously, jackass? That had better be for the cute nurse.”

Rhett glanced at the bear and shrugged. “Thought you might get lonely in here all by yourself, seeing as you’re taking your sweet-ass time to heal.”

“I had a collapsed lung.”

“Yeah, like three days ago.” He nodded toward Chase’s ribs. “Chest tube’s already out.”

“This morning.” He cursed when his broken ribs ground against each other. “Trust me, I hate this.”

“You PJs are always the worst patients.” Rhett leaned in. “Heard the entire staff bitching about you wanting to double check every med, every procedure. Hell, you questioned a sponge bath with that brunette.” He shook his head. “You’ve got serious issues, brother.”

“With meds. And the brunette’s hands are like freaking ice. Not the kinky act you’re imagining.”

Rhett laughed, then sobered. “Sorry about Dalton and his crew.”

Chase swallowed the bitter taste of defeat, toying with the edge of his blanket. “Not your fault. You’re not the one who left them behind.”

“Neither were you.” Rhett stopped him with a hard stare. “Chase. You nearly died twice on the flight here. If Kash hadn’t spent the past six years watching you treat people, you’d be dead. Guy deserves a damn medal. As do you because I know, without a doubt, if I hadn’t forcefully dragged you into the chopper, you would have staggered to your feet and gone looking.”

Rhett slapped Chase’s thigh, ignoring Chase’s resulting grunt. “You wouldn’t have made it more than twenty feet, tops, but you would have tried. Would have died before you admitted you were too compromised to help. So, if you need to blame anyone, blame me. I can shoulder it.”

Chase snagged Rhett’s hand. “You’re an ass. And I owe you. Huge.” He shoved Rhett’s hand away as Foster and the others walked in. “Hey, Beckett, please tell me you reamed Rhett a new one for leaving the chopper. I mean, is that even allowed?”

Foster crossed his arms, shaking his head. “It’s not the leaving that scared me, it was him yelling at Sean to man the machine gun.” Foster gave Sean a clap on the back. “Have you seen the man fire anything that powerful? It’s sad.”

Sean flipped off Foster. “At least, I wasn’t yelling at Chase to get up, as if he could hear me from inside the cockpit.” Sean batted his eyelids. “You two have such a bromance. Folks are talking. You know that, right?”

“Shut up.” Chase looked at Foster. “So, they really didn’t find anyone else alive?”

Foster sighed. “Nothing, yet. The joint task force is considering another assault based on what the survivors told them. They want to take down the entire cell… but it’s doubtful anyone survived that missile strike.”

“And we’re sure it was that extremist group — the Legion — who initiated it? Because I have a hard time believing they had the resources, let alone the balls to blow up half their own compound.”

Foster shuffled over. “How about you focus on getting your ass out of that bed, and let me deal with the bureaucrats.”

Chase huffed, closing his eyes as pain shot through his ribs and into his chest, scattering dots across his vision when he finally looked up at his buddies. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the best I’ve got.” Foster glanced at Chase’s IV. “Are you taking any of the meds?”

“You know how I feel about that.”

“Buddy, you’re not your father. You can take the damn morphine and not kill anyone.”

Chase clenched his jaw, the mere mention of his dad sparking another kind of pain no amount of narcotics could ever touch. “You can’t guarantee that.”

“Damn straight we can.” Kash moved in on the other side. “Hand to God, I’ll tackle your broken ass to the floor if you so much as twitch. Or at least, toss the freaking stuffy at you.” He scrunched up his face, glancing at Rhett from the corner of his eye. “Did you win this at a carnival back in the nineties?”

Rhett shrugged. “I’ve been saving it for the right moment.”

Zain waved them both off. “Ignore them but take the meds. You’re a damn bear at the best of times. Trying to manage all this pain… People are talking, and it’s not kind.”

Chase breathed through the next stabbing jolt. “You’ll keep my ass in this bed?”

“Guaranteed.” Zain tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “We ordered pizza. We’ll go grab it and camp out for the night. Prevent one of the staff from putting a hit on you.”

“Fine.” Chase snagged Rhett’s hand as his buddies darted from the room. “I meant what I said.”

Rhett shrugged it off. “Yeah, yeah, you owe me, like you haven’t saved all of us at some point. Rest, we’ve got your back.”

Rhett stepped aside when the nurse came in carrying a syringe. She gave Chase an evil eye, waiting until he begrudgingly nodded before injecting it into the IV tube.

Chase eased back in the bed. He’d give himself a few days to kick the pain to the curb, then he’d be back. Looking for the next win. Something to dull the voice in his head still screaming at him.

Some form of redemption he wasn’t sure he’d ever find.