AFTERSHOCK - Part 2.
The jihadists were caught by surprise. Those in the sights were dead before they hit the ground. Aidan was keeping an eye on the girl, making sure that she'd stay alive.
She saw a jihadi rushing toward her and just as he tried to lunge the bayonet affixed to his AK-47 into her, the back of his head exploded, and he dropped like a sack of potatoes. The jihadists were fighting back moments after the initial shock passed, and that told Aidan that they were experienced fighters.
A grenade detonated close to the girl and before the smoke cleared, she was being dragged away. He couldn't get a clean shot and he saw his comrades moving in closer for the final kill. He dropped another jihadi that was just about to shoot an RPG into the wall that Steiner and two of his buddies had taken cover behind moments earlier.
Aidan turned on his radio. "Steiner, those bastards are making a run for it with the girl. I'll cut them off."
"Copy that, we'll mop up here," the squad leader replied. Aidan got on his feet, put his sniper rifle on his back, and checked his secondary weapon, a Zastava AK-47 with Vortex Strikefire scope.
He left his backpack where it was because he didn't want to be slowed down. He ran down the hill, trying to get ahead of the mujahedeen that had managed to escape the confusion of the ambush. Aidan had one advantage he could rely on: the element of surprise. The jihadists thought that no one saw them fleeing the firefight.
Dusk was setting in. The moonlight, which was breaking through the branches of ancient trees that were probably there when the Turks were invading these lands, was giving him more than enough illumination for the hunt. He was moving with the shadows in the general direction that he saw them escaping in. Intermittently, he stopped and listened with acuity, hoping to hear his prey. However, the sounds of the dying skirmish were muffling all the other noises. He had to believe that they would let the girl live, as she could be useful to them. But he knew that the moment they felt safe, she'd be dead.
The jihadists were escaping up along the river as Aidan was sneaking down the mountains, an arduous trek that time of year, with the high-altitude snow melting. Without realizing it, he couldn't hear the firefight anymore as he reached the bend of the river. There was no way for him to cross the full rapids. He was sure that he had gotten ahead of them, since they were escaping up the narrow gorge in darkness and had to be careful not to slip and fall into the raging river.
He figured that there must be some sort of a bridge higher up the gorge because the river narrowed. People had been living here for centuries, and from the briefing they had before they went on patrol, he remembered that these mountains had hidden caves where the locals would hide in times of danger. Therefore, he assumed that there were hidden trails that crisscrossed the river. He was catching his breath and listening out for any human sounds, but the river was too loud, and there was no way of knowing how far away they were.
He started making his way up along the river. The banks were steep, and he grabbed for the tree branches, pulling himself onward. He reached a flimsy rope bridge not long after he started making his way up the gorge. Before deciding to risk crossing it, he paused to listen. He didn't want any surprises. There was no way of knowing if the ropes would hold his weight. He pushed aside the grisly thought of dying in the rapids of the unknown mountain river.
"Fuck it," he silently swore and started speedily making his way across.
It felt like he was on that bouncy bridge for ages, although it only took him barely a minute to get across. Now he was on the same side of the river as the men he was hunting. The mountain was obscuring the moonlight, so Aidan took the night vision tech out belt pouch and attached it to his helmet. Still, there was no way of him hearing them. He would have to be among them and act before they could realize what was happening so that the girl would have a chance.
There were no movements in sight. He checked his weapon and started tactically moving downstream. Suddenly, lightning announced the approaching storm, and the first raindrops started to fall. The flash caught him off-guard and because of the night vision, his eyes burned as if a laser had pierced his pupils. He gasped in pain, slipped, and lost his footing, almost falling into the river.
"Son of a bitch," he swore as he caught his breath and rubbed his eyes.
He looked at the gathering clouds as the rain picked up. As much as the storm would inconvenience him, it would also make it easier for him to do what had to be done. He picked himself up, gave one more glance at the river, and with one hand, grabbed a tree to pull himself up. He didn't dare to use the night vision because the chance of lightening was too great. He continued to move toward the approaching jihadists. Although he expected to run into them at any moment, he decided to risk it because he wanted to find the perfect spot to ambush them.
He found one at another bend of the river. He quick checked with his night vision. They were close. He melded with the surroundings. His enemies could stand on him and not know of his presence. He opted against using his sniper rifle, which would be useless in these conditions.
Sure enough, he saw movements, and moments later, he heard their voices. Since they were sure that nobody had followed them, they took their time trying to find a way across the river. The bend they were on was too steep to climb. He counted five men, and in the middle, he could see the girl. Her hands were tied, and she had a noose around her neck. She was being dragged like an animal to the slaughter. They wanted to get across as fast as possible, and he could sense their frustration.
Their path was going to take them a mere couple of feet from his hiding place. He decided that the man holding the noose would be the first to die. The girl was trying to keep the pace with her captors, and every time she slipped, she was yanked back onto her feet.
When the attack on the jihadists had first happened, she thought her life was being saved. But then, before she knew what was happening, she was dragged away from her freedom. The last thing she had expected was being captured by the mujahedeen. She had never seen anyone die, yet now found herself surrounded by death and unspeakable violence. This was supposed to be an easy observation and information gathering mission. All sides of the conflict were supposed to honor the diplomatic status of the Red Cross. She had a numbing headache, and her face throbbed from all the punches.
She didn't know how far they had gone, but there were no more sounds coming from the village. Her captors had stopped at the river bend, trying to orientate themselves. She was grateful for the short respite. They were not paying attention to her. The cold raindrops fell, and she turned her face to the sky, letting them soothe her swollen, bruised face. She opened her mouth, as painful as it was, to savor every raindrop that caressed her dry lips. She sat down on the rock, not caring if she would be kicked onto her feet again. She rested her weary eyes, unaware that Aidan was so close that he could almost touch her.
The lightening flashed, and thunder followed as the mild rain turned into downpour and that for him was exactly the weather he liked the most for what he was about to do.
To be continued,
