Rip had his headset in one ear and listened for sounds of the camp with his other.
Montana eased up behind Gunny, followed by Sawyer, then the newest SEAL, Gosling, with Rip bringing up the rear.
Their mission: extract one undercover DEA agent from a terrorist training camp deep in the jungle of Honduras.
No matter where he looked, Rip could detect no sentries standing guard or patrolling the compound. Strange. The DEA agent had been adamant about being pulled out. Hed feared for his life and had been concerned the information he needed to pass on might be lost.
In his brief plea to be extracted, hed given specific GPS coordinates. When Gunny reached the position, he held up his fist.
The team stopped in place and hugged the earth, waiting.
He pointed to Montana and Sawyer and gave them the follow-me sign.
The three surrounded the door of the building. Gunny nudged it open and disappeared inside. Montana and Sawyer followed. Gosling and Rip remained outside, providing cover.
Seconds later, they hustled out a man wearing rumpled clothing, his shoulder-length hair straggly and unkempt. He ducked low and moved quickly between them, hurrying toward the path leading out of the camp.
Gunny motioned for Gosling and Rip to fall in with the team. They had their man, and it appeared as though they were going to make a clean getaway with none of the terrorists aware of the agents departure.
The hair on the back of Rips neck stood straight up. The entire mission had been too easy. If there was any real danger, wouldnt there have been sentries on alert, wielding machine guns and willing to cut down anyone who stepped into range?
They cleared the edge of the camp, heading back to the river and the waiting boat.
Gunny was in the lead again, followed by Sawyer. Montana was in front of their extracted DEA agent and Gosling behind him.
The agent stumbled for a moment.
Gosling didnt adjust his stride in time. He caught up with the man then gave him a hand to right himself.
The sharp report of gunfire ripped through the night, shattering the silence.
Gosling collapsed where he stood.
Another shot rang out and the DEA agent grunted and crumpled to the ground.
Instinct made the remaining members of the SEAL team drop to their bellies.
His heart slamming into his ribs, adrenaline racing through his veins, Rip low crawled to the two men whod been hit. He shone his red penlight over Gosling. The man had taken the bullet in the throat. By the dark stain spreading in a wide blob on the ground around him, Rip suspected the bullet had cut a hole in the young SEALs jugular vein. He lay sprawled on his side, his body completely still. Rip covered the wound with his hand, but nothing he did could slow the flow of blood.
Roll call, Gunny spoke into Rips headset. One by one the other team members reported in.
Montana.
Sawyer.
Schafer, Rip said. His heart in his throat, he reported, Gosling took a hit.
Sawyer spun around and low crawled with his weapon in front of him to where Gosling lay unmoving. He jerked Rips hand off the wound. Damn.
Gunny muttered a curse, Status.
For a moment Rip closed his eyes, thinking of his last conversation with the young petty officer. Goslings wife was expecting their first child. Hed been so proud, scared and excited all at once.
Sawyer answered, Goslings dead.
Though Rip knew it, hearing Sawyers confirmation made it all the more real and heartbreaking. Overwhelmed with grief but knowing they still had to get the agent out, he moved toward the other downed man a yard away. The agent had been hit in the chest. Without the armor plate the SEALs wore in their vests, he hadnt been protected.
Our guest? Gunny demanded.
Rip felt for a pulse. As he pressed his fingers to the base of the mans throat, a hand snaked out and grabbed his wrist with surprising strength.
In the darkness of the night, Rip could see the whites of the mans eyes staring up at him.
Set up, the agent said, his voice nothing more than a guttural whisper. He reached up to the medallion around his neck, yanked it free and pressed it into Rips hand. Find out who.
Who what? Rip asked.
Status on our extraction? Gunnys voice sounded loud in Rips ear.
Conscious, but not good, Rip replied, stuffing the medallion into his pocket.
Shouts could be heard in the village behind them as the occupants raised the alarm. Lights blinked on and headlights lit the night. The tap, tap, tap of gunfire broke through the nights silence.
Lets get out of here. Gunny raced back to where Sawyer and Rip were leaning over the wounded men. Ill take the agent.
The agent gripped Rips arm and refused to let go.
Rip straightened, bringing the man up and throwing him over his shoulder. Ive got the agent. Get Gosling. He deserves a proper burial.
Cursing, Gunny hesitated only a moment before pitching Gosling over his shoulder, muttering, This wasnt the way this was supposed to go down, damn it.
Rip didnt wait. With the deadweight of the wounded agent bearing down on him, he took off at an awkward lope racing through the trees and vines toward the boat theyd left in the nearby river. Silence wasnt necessary. Speed was.
Montana ran ahead to get the boat engines started. Sawyer brought up the rear, covering their sixes as Rip and Gunny carried their burdens over the uneven floor of the jungle.
Shots rang out behind them. A vehicle full of angry terrorists raced toward them. Sawyer held them at bay, firing short bursts of rounds into the night. He ejected his clip and without missing a beat slammed another home while running backward to keep up with the other SEALs.
When Rip reached the boat, he jumped on board and laid his charge on the deck. He manned his position behind a grenade launcher, waiting for Sawyer to emerge from the tree line.
Gunny jumped on board, dropped Gosling on deck and took a position behind a machine gun.