Months earlier, he’d been shot in the leg, but thanks to Rubin’s psychic surgery and the efforts of Joe, another teammate who was very skilled in psychic healing, his leg was stronger than ever. He felt very confident crossing that long expanse of snow to get to his intended target.
His enhancements were not as specialized as some of the other GhostWalkers’ because he was considered an “all-around” soldier. He could find water in a desert twenty-five feet down below the surface. He could go up the side of a sheer mountain, or swim for long periods of time underwater without taking a breath. He was extremely fast underwater. His sense of smell, eyesight and hearing were all very acute.
He often felt like the man who wasn’t master of anything yet could manage to make his way through numerous pitfalls. If he did have one claim he could make, it was taking apart or putting together explosives in record time. He had a feel for them. He almost didn’t have to look at them. It was instinctive. But that was it as far as his enhancements went.
They maintained silence until they both reached their destinations. In position, Rubin reported.
They were always careful with telepathic communication. The truth was, many people had undeveloped psychic talents. They could trigger a warning, just by making the wrong person vigilant for no reason that individual could put his finger on—it was just a feeling.
In position. Rubin, we can’t chance them making any noise. We have to do this one right. Even if they were able to kill their enemy, they had to do it swiftly, so the others didn’t find out. Most likely number is five. There will be a lookout behind the bunker. Malichai had to get to him first. He would be in the best position to get away and raise the alarm. Making my way around to guard’s location now.
He spoke in very small bursts of energy, keeping the output as low as possible. Once again, he began to move, inch by inch. He “felt” for the traps Braden had warned him about. He had encountered the first row of them approximately twenty feet out from the wall. The traps had wrapped around the reinforced boulders with more traps every few feet. A virtual minefield of alarms and real bombs that would be triggered by weight had been constructed to protect those inside the bunker.
The traps gave off energy that he felt through the hairs on his body. He had trained over and over to be sensitive enough to know when there was a trap, a bomb, anything at all that would harm him or those relying on him.
Malichai made his way around the bunker. Due to the rock formation, it was quite a distance to the back. There were no breaks in the rock and he finally went up, once again using his strength and the tiny gecko-like hairs engineered into his hands that allowed him to hold not only his own weight but that of another man as heavy as him. The hair was microscopic, but each was divided into a thousand fine projections, sticking out like tiny brushes. Unseen, they were only felt. Malichai’d had to train for months in the proper way to “stick” to a surface, and then learn to get unstuck. Once that had been accomplished, he’d trained to climb fast and in silence. He could hang upside down or stay on a ceiling if needed.
He clung to the side of the rock, surveying the enemy camp and counting the six men in the bunker. The guard would make seven. Sleeping quarters were toward the back of the bunker. Two men were lying down. Two were drinking what looked like tea while another stood with a pair of night vision goggles looking toward the encampment where Braden and the others were, while the sixth man swept back and forth with his night vision binoculars over the snow-covered ground.
Malichai slowly crawled down the rock wall and made his way toward the back of the bunker where the guard would be. It was darkest there. None of the light from the fire reached the outer perimeter. Once in the darkness, he stalked the guard. The man was facing out away from him, thinking all danger would come from outside the bunker, not inside. Malichai didn’t waste time. Coming up behind him, he slammed his knife into the base of the man’s skull, his hand over the guard’s mouth to muffle any sound, and then carefully lowered him to the ground.
It’s done.
Rubin was on the wall on the opposite side. They took the two men sleeping first. They were a distance from the others and no one so much as turned to look at them, leaving them alone so they could get sleep. They crept up on the two men drinking tea and killed them quickly, catching the small glass vessels they drank out of. The sentries watching the enemy were the last ones, and they managed to kill them as well.
They left the fire burning brightly, and this time used the back entrances to the other two bunkers. Bunker one held only five men, and they used the same configuration as bunker two. One man guarded the rear of the bunker against the off chance that they would be attacked from that side. Two watched the enemy camp and the ground around the front of the bunkers while the other two rested. It was the same in bunker three.
When all the enemy were dead, Malichai and Rubin snuck back to camp. Above the bunkers were caves where they were concerned that more of the enemy lived, so they didn’t dare blow up the weapons. They disabled the larger ones and made their way back, arriving just before the helicopter was due.
Malichai indicated to Braden and the others that he wanted them silent as they made their way up the slope to the rendezvous point with the helicopter. They didn’t want to make any noise at all and tip off any of the enemy who might be staying in the caves that they were escaping.
Rubin took Jerry on his shoulders. He’d been given painkillers, but it still had to hurt like hell. Rubin didn’t say anything or ask questions, he just started up the slope. The moment he had traveled a few feet, a barrage of deadly fire hit just below them. Rubin caught Jerry in his arms and dove for cover.
Malichai swore. That answered the question whether or not there were more in the caves. Or at least, someone had showed up and discovered the dead.
“Shit,” Malichai hissed. “We missed a few.”
“That’s impossible,” Rubin denied, but he had his rifle out and ready after securing Jerry.
“I’ll get them out of there.” There was no choice. If they were going to get the wounded into the helicopter, they would have to make it safe for the helicopter to put down. Malichai had no choice, he had to go.
Braden shook his head. “You’re crazy, man. You can’t face that kind of firepower.”
“Do you have any better ideas?” Malichai asked. His gaze was on bunker two. The bunker was positioned to cover the mountain from almost any angle. Naturally, the enemy would have set up there. They didn’t need the other bunkers in order to control the entire area. He had to clear that bunker and get rid of the weapons. There was no point in hesitating. He had to do it now, before the helicopter decided it was too risky and left them and before any more of the enemy decided to show themselves—if there were any more. Wouldn’t they already be out in force if there were? He couldn’t think about that.
Without further preamble, he left the safety of the boulders, sprinting from his position down the slope toward the bunkers. Malichai charged into the gunfire, running low, using a zigzag pattern with his enhanced speed. He had to leap over larger rocks and go around others. Bullets flew at him, never stopping, hundreds fired from the machine gun, tearing up the ground as he ran. Rocks exploded, sending pieces flying into the air. The bullets whipped around him, ripping at his clothing, tearing holes in the material and slicing pieces of skin. Still, he was up. He was running, his entire mind focused on the task in front of him.