A Shot in the Dark

Crackshot

2200 hours

Cambodian Airspace

"Gentlemen, our LZ is an abandoned P.O.W camp, turned village barely five kilometers south of the Laotian border," Stalker tapped the map twice before peering around at his comrades. Four faces stared steadily back at him, alert and ready for action. "Wild Bill's gonna stand at the LZ with the Tomahawk for our extraction. We have a four hour window in which to track down, and recover our objective."

Stalker removed a photo from an envelope and passed it around. It moved from one set of hands to the next, each Joe in turn studying it. Duke had seen fit to give him the best men suited for this mission. Recondo has more years in jungle expertise than Stalker had fingers on his hands. Good old Doc was the best field trauma specialist in the service. Gung-Ho came along for sheer firepower and Marines toughness. While Low-light was Stalker's ticket to actually finding the objective...

"Some pretty beb, eh?" Gung-Ho chuckled as he passed the photo along. Low-Light took it next, scowling at the heart-shaped face staring back up at him. "What's somethin' like that doin' out here?" Gung-Ho turned back toward Stalker, only to peer down at the map once more.

"That, boys, is Sergeant Kirsten Ludlum, Marine Corp." Stalker reached out to take the picture back, before flashing a slight grin in Gung-Ho's direction. "Three weeks ago, she was dropped at the Cambodian coastline with orders to seek and kill a known weapons supplier. One week ago, her target was confirmed dead, but she missed her extraction rendezvous. The village we're landing in has American sympathies; the new headman attended Oxford." Stalker shrugged slightly, warding off questions. "This location was Ludlum's original scheduled extraction point. Once we hit, we fan out into the jungle."

"Four hours? At night." Recondo sighed, and leaned back against the helicopter's metal. "Hoping one sharpshooter can spot another."

"Exactly." Stalker turned slightly toward Low-Light. "For all we know, she's hunkered down under cover waiting for an American chopper to touch down. But she could just as easily be wounded in the jungle."

"Or one-week dead," Low-Light sniffed a little, rolling his eyes slightly.

I'm beginning to think I've been left for dead. There wasn't a part of her left dry, from her head to her toes. Her ghilly suit barely offered her protection from the elements, even while she fought to keep her weapons dry. She only ever moved under cover of night, using the dripping rain down the leaves, and the natural night sounds to mask her. Because he was still out there. The faceless mercenary who was unlucky enough to miss his first shot. Kirsten knew she was getting sick, the tickle was there in the back of her throat.

Subsisting on nothing but stim-packs, cold MRE's and what little edible vegetation the jungle could offer, she was reaching the end of her portable supplies. If a tiger or leopard didn't get her one night, her faceless adversary would. She knew it, and it scared her. Every night, she crept. Fifty yards, or a hundred yards, it never mattered. The closer she got the extraction point, the safer she felt. Even after the first chopper bailed, skirting out back to international airspace once more, she had faith that she'd be retrieved, eventually.

The sounds of the rainforest were a natural background buzz to her, so it came to no surprise when she picked out the steady thup-thup-thupof a large transport chopper coming in over the rainforest. Picking her head up slightly, she squinted into the darkness, as though she would be able to see the small Cambodian village more than 2 miles over the next ridge. Lying on her belly in the darkness, she prayed momentarily that it was an American craft. She prayed that she'd get to see a warm bed, and a hot meal soon. She felt silent, listening again as the steady sound of the chopper faded into the night. Somewhere behind her, a tree creaked.

He's climbing to see who's that was. He had to be getting tired and cold too. Her adversary had been combing the jungle as much as she'd been lying low. A muscle in the back of her leg twitched, cramping up slowly from the inactivity. Ludlum gritted her teeth and inched forward a bit more. She had two choices, stick it slow and steady chancing being left behind once more, or she could double-time, revealing her position to her pursuant. Ludlum lay still for another thirty seconds while she mulled her choices over.

"Recondo, you take Doc and Gung-Ho on a sweep north, to east. I'll take Low-Light south and west. Open radio communications, and rendezvous back here in four hours." Stalker nodded to the headman of the small village, before giving his men the signal to move out. Stalker wished he could have had more men for this extraction, but he'd just have to make due. Glancing out into the jungle, he felt too comfortable, too reminded of his time in 'Nam.

Just as Stalker turned to head west, Low-Light tapped him on the shoulder. "See that ridge?" The sniper pointed with a slight nod of his head, toward the south. "If I'd missed my extraction, and had to go to ground, I'd hunker down on that rise."

Stalker paused, and studied the landscape. The slope was a good defensible position, a hill rising slightly above the forested floor. It would offer a decent view of the surrounding areas without being exposed. Stalker nodded slightly. "Then that's our first checkpoint."

Stalker hated one thing, and only one thing about the jungle. Breathing rainy-season air was like trying to breathe water. Aided by night-vision goggles, Stalker picked his way carefully through the undergrowth. He already knew that four hours would not be enough time to find this Marine, unless she was lucky enough to still be alive.

She breathed slowly, listening to the movement in the forest around her. The more she thought on it, the more she knew that she had to make a break for the village. Her fingers slowly worked at the clasps holding down her ghillie suit. If she had to break for it, she had to slip out of the camouflage and pray to God that she made a clean break-away. The loops and twigs sticking out of the suit would only serve to catch her up on branches. Her hands were shaking, even as she slipped her arms slowly out of the sleeves, taking care to not rest the M40A1 on the ground for more than a second.

Quiet. The rainforest dripped and plopped all around her. Imminent rescue lie over the ridge. This was her one and only option. Cradling the rifle to her stomach, she pushed herself up on her hands and knees, rising to her feet in one swift, smooth motion. The ghillie suit fell back to the ground, a shapeless lump of twigs and leaves. Freed of its heavy, overbearing weight, Ludlum actually felt cooler; within two strides, she found a steady, easy rhythm to jog through the leaf litter.

Except...

The rip of semi-automatic weapon fire peppered the trees around her. She had her pursuant to worry about, and he apparently, had gotten closer than she expected. She dodged and weaved between trees, hunkering down to keep as small a target as she could. The last thing she needed was getting winged at this stage of the game. Glancing back over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of something dark moving against the forest. He was running after her, holding fire.

That's it, she begged him silently. Get in close for some one-on-one time.

A few more strides, and he did just what she wanted him too. He caught her around the waist, slamming his shoulder hard into her lower back with a spear-like hit. Ludlum went down harder than she wanted, losing her grip on her weapon as a wave of numbness swept through her body. The rifle went scattering into the leaf litter, lost in the darkness to her unaided eyes. With a silent curse to herself, she took one elbow and rammed it downward.

The shock rolled up her arm into her shoulder, as she connected with the crown of her assailants head. Kicking her feet, she felt a boot catch something, and heard a sharp exhalation of air. His grip loosened enough for her to worm her way out. Flat on her back for a moment, Ludlum kipped up, just in time to watch her opponent roll to his back. He was covered in a tight-fitting martial arts gi, patterned with a jungle camouflage. Even his face was covered, leaving his features in a shadowy blur of mute tones.

Ludlum lunged forward, dropping with her knees hard into his stomach. She wound up for a heavy-handed roundhouse, but he caught her punch, wrapping a big hand around her wrist. His other hand came up fast for a quick jab to her ribs, and he rolled her over as she tried to dodge. With the rolls reversed so suddenly, Ludlum drew her knee up and introduced it to his groin before he could settle. Cursing a blue streak, he was distracted enough to let the smaller woman wriggle out from beneath him.

He was bigger, and stronger than she was. If he managed to get in any good shots, she'd be down fast. She had one choice: run. Leaving him gasping for air, she took off into the jungle once more. Her assailant began to muscle through the pain as he rolled to his feet. He caught a glimpse of her, a shadow of darkness moving against the black of the jungle, and he forced himself to his feet. He found his Beretta easily, and he began to stomp off in the direction of the retreating Marine.

"We have confirmed weapons fire, repeat, confirmed weapons fire." Stalker paused long enough to glance at his partner. Low-Light was scanning the ridge-line, him mouth pressed into a tight hard line. After a moment, he shook his head slightly. Stalker scowled. "Recondo, get over to the southern side of the village. Track to the ridge one mile. We'll meet up with you down here."

A crackle of an affirmative came over the radio, and Stalker holstered the system. Stepping up beside Low-Light again, Stalker took the offered night-vision goggles. Without saying much, the sniper directed his attention toward the ridge.

"I saw two muzzle flashes there, no return fire."

"Anything else?"

Low-Light shook his head. "We're assuming an awful lot."

"If this lady is all that the brass have her cracked up to be, we're not assuming anything." Stalker handed the night-vision goggles back to the sniper and waited for his eyes to readjust to the darkness for a moment. "Let's go."

Ludlum knew that her legs were shorter. The man in the camo-suit would be faster in the long distance sprint. Her ribs already ached, even though she had managed to roll a little with that punch. Time was her enemy now as well. He was gaining, closing on her with ground eating strides. She wouldn't be able to get up into a tree fast enough; and the ground cover was thinning out.

Put your head down, and keep running. The voice of her PT instructor came back to her as it always did in times of physical stress. Her legs were beginning to burn, after so long of lying in wait on the jungle floor, to have so much forced on them within a five minute span. She ground her teeth together and began to mentally berate herself. Silently cursing and swearing like a drill sergeant, she felt herself speed up, pushing past the point of pain and into the zen action of running.

Unfortunately for her, as she crested the ridge, for a split second she was silhouetted against the lighter backdrop of the sky. Taking his opportunity, her assailant dropped the gun to his hip, and opened fire. He strafed from right to left, letting loose a ten-round burst that split the forest in half with its sound. Sleeping birds in the trees took flight in a cacophony of sound and movement. He watched his target stumble, scramble for footing and balance, before pitching forward down the opposite slope of the ridge.

"Visual contact!" Low-Light grunted as he broke into a sprint. The ridge-line sloped up ahead of him, and for a split second, he knew he saw a figure. He didn't care about the weapon fire that reverberated in the forest; that's why he had Stalker behind him, and Gung-Ho with the others approaching quickly from the northwest.

He followed the sound of scattering dirt and rocks, to find the objective's final resting place. She had tumbled eight or nine times down the slope, coming to a stop against the base of a giant teak tree. She lay on her back, one hand propped up against the tree trunk as though she were about to rise. As Low-Light dropped to his knees beside her, he noticed she was still conscious.

"Easy, easy. We're here to take you home." He muttered the words quietly, glancing around to see where his fellows were. He heard a few more rounds of gunfire, before the jungle grew still and quiet once more. As Low-Light started to do a medical check, he caught sent of the unmistakable metallic tang of blood.

"She's been hit!"