All Necessary Force

79

Rafik pushed the woman and the child forward until the EFP site was hidden by the forest, then said, “Stop.”

The woman turned around, tears running freely.

“Sit down.”

They did so.

He threw the rope he’d taken from his pack at the feet of the woman, saying, “Tie up the boy, then tie your own feet. I’ll tie your hands.”

The woman began to blubber. Pathetic.

“Shhhhh. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. There’s sensitive equipment on site and you interrupted a test. This is for your own protection.”

The woman nodded, and tied up the hands and feet of the boy. Rafik was amazed again at how these soft kafir wanted to believe they would live when death’s noose was slowly circling their necks.

Finished with the boy, the woman hesitated. Rafik said, “Don’t make me arrest you.”

“You promise you’re not going to do anything to us? We’re just lost. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

He smiled and handed her a section of rope. “I promise. As soon as the test is done, you’ll be free to go.”

She wiped the tears from her eyes and bent down to tie her ankles. She flicked the rope out, circling Rafik’s legs, and jerked upright, ripping him off of his feet.

He hammered the ground hard, the brunt taken by his upper back and head. He felt his weapon kicked out of his hands, and he rolled onto his knees.

The woman leapt onto his back, wrapping her legs around his waist and the rope against his neck. She looped it completely around, then jerked out, cinching the rope into his throat.

He lashed out with both elbows, connecting solidly over and over again, but the woman refused to move. The rope cut into his flesh, his windpipe crushing like an aluminum beer can. He began to rasp for air, and knew he was going to die.

At the hands of a kafir.

He staggered to his feet, the woman locked relentlessly on his back. He slammed her against a tree, attempting to scrape her off, but all she did was grunt.

He heard the boom of an EFP, and renewed his efforts. Victory. So close. I will not be killed by a kafir.

He tried to claw her face, wildly swinging his arms at something he couldn’t see. He could feel the woman’s spittle on his neck as she cranked the rope tighter and tighter. In his last breaths, it dawned on him that he had been tricked. He had been led down a path, believing the woman was subdued. She had never trusted him, and he had fallen for her tears. The injustice was staggering.

Defeated by a woman.

I went as fast as I dared through the woods, trying to strike a balance between speed and security, the Glock tracking everything to my front. Jennifer’s GPS signal from her alarm transmission showed her only four hundred meters from my location. I had been running for about two minutes when I heard an explosion ahead of me, knowing what that meant. Jesus.

I saw a clearing to my front and slowed, my subconscious screaming at me to simply plow ahead. I scanned quickly, then broke into the clearing, immediately seeing two large EFPs on tripods, both aimed at the nuclear facility. One had an M57 attached, ready to fire. I rapidly did a three-sixty, seeing no threat, but also seeing the destroyed tripods of two expended EFPs.

What the hell? I’d heard no gunfire, which was an ominous sign, given Jennifer’s alarm, but clearly something had stopped the attack. Where’s Jennifer? A flash of yellow caught my eye. I jogged to it, and saw Jennifer’s radio on the ground.

Shit.

I was reaching down to retrieve it when a blinding flash of pain sliced through my left shoulder. I collapsed to the ground, feeling something broken grind against itself. I rolled over and saw a giant black man standing above me, holding what looked like the steel posts used on the warning signs I had passed. He swung again like he was aiming at a golf ball, and my hand holding the Glock was hammered, sending the gun sailing fifteen feet away. Before he could recover from the swing, I snapped out with a leg sweep and brought him to the ground, then scrambled to maintain the initiative.

My left arm was numb, refusing to move, but I still had use of my right, although my right hand felt like wood. I fell on top of him and popped him twice in the face, my fist refusing to close completely, the blows ineffectual. He flung me onto my back and straddled my waist, raising the bar again.

I snaked my legs around his neck, my body now resting on my shoulders with him above me. I used my one good arm to help achieve a triangle choke with my thighs, winding my left foot under my right leg. I began to squeeze, causing his eyes to bulge.

He began huffing like a bull, but didn’t drop. Jesus, this guy is strong.

He swam a hand in between my left thigh and his neck, achieving some relief. He began to work the hand through, creating a larger and larger gap. His other hand punched my left shoulder in light jabs that at any other time would have been a joke. Today it felt like he was working a welding torch against my flesh, each blow causing my broken bones to grind into themselves. The punishment caused me to flinch, giving him a bigger gap between my lock and his neck.

He’s going to escape. And I’m going to die.

He hit me again, and my vision blurred. If he kept at it, I was going to black out.

Need to end this. Right now.

I squeezed with all of my might, giving him something else to focus on besides hitting me. When he reached up to fight the hold, I completely released, causing him to flail about to keep his balance. I mule-kicked his chest, launching him in the air backward. I leapt up and began running in the direction of the Glock. As expected, he leapt up as well, only he was closer. When his eyes left me and focused on the weapon, running full out, I changed direction and ran to the armed EFP. I rotated it on the tripod until it was aimed directly at him.

He came up with the weapon, charging toward me and firing. I dropped to the ground and scrambled down the wire to the M57 firing device, the rounds popping the dirt around me. As I reached the M57 I felt a bullet tear into my thigh. I rolled over, holding the M57 in my one good hand, seeing him standing directly in front of the EFP fifteen feet away, drawing a slow bead on my head. I frantically squeezed the clacker, and the world ripped apart.

I gradually came back to the present, unsure how long I had been out, feeling like I was in a dream but partially awake. My head slowly cleared, but not my hearing. I saw my attacker on the ground, still alive and struggling to move. His entire midsection was gone, with the exception of six inches of flesh connecting his upper body with his lower. His mouth worked like a fish out of water for a moment, then he lay still.

I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and recognized Jennifer shouting something I couldn’t hear. Incongruously, next to her was a small child of eight or nine.

I’m hallucinating. I’m hurt bad.

The Jennifer vision ran to me and began checking my wounds. I could feel the pressure of her touch, confusing me further. The ringing in my ears began to subside, and I could hear Jennifer speaking as if through a long tube, reciting the litany of things wrong with me. She went about the triage expertly.

Just like I trained her. I began to believe it was real.

I croaked, “The Arab.”

“He’s dead.”

“His phone?”

“I got it. Shut up and let me finish.”

“Who’s the kid?”