Laura Acton

Hail Mary

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June 25 – Near Hércules, Mexico – Abandoned Iron Mine

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Maxwell Stirling yelled, “Holy shit!” as he ran like hell away from the up-armored 4x4 truck. Ten days into Zulu’s first mission, after spending three months in a training evolution, things had gone to shit, and they had no backup.

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As the RPG made mincemeat of their last remaining means of transportation, Max dove over the stone half-wall of an old cemetery, his flight assisted by the blast wave. Landing hard, he scurried behind a massive headstone, seeking cover. When debris came raining down on him, he curled into a protective ball, pissed off their only way out of this hellhole had been obliterated.

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Dilapidated Building

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“Six, status!” Master Chief Jake Marshall shouted as flames rolled out of the destroyed SUV. “Zulu Six, do you copy?”

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Heavy gunfire erupted again as the hostiles renewed their assault. Pinned down, outgunned, outnumbered, low on ammo, no ISR or drone overhead, comms with TOC down, no quick response force available to save their asses, and forty miles from the planned exfil location, Zulu team was in a world of hurt.

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Ten minutes ago, Jake hesitantly agreed to Stirling’s suggestion to dash to the only truck that survived the initial onslaught. A decision he may well regret if it got the kid killed.

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The rest of the team had laid down cover fire as a diversion while their rookie made the Hail Mary move. Surprisingly, Max made it and started to drive towards them, but then, the enemy brought an RPG into play. With their second vehicle now blown to bits, his team’s options for exfil and survival were limited.

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Jake peeked out the side of a window, hoping to glimpse Max. Though unsure, he hoped the kid received Dave’s warning about the RPG in time to exit before it exploded. Having received no response to his previous calls, Jake’s voice rose with dread that their fearless rookie had died, as he demanded, “Six, respond!”

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“Come on, Kid, answer Boss,” Finn McBride muttered from his position at the second-story window, searching for any sign of life. Finn hated the young buck’s idea, but no one came up with a better one, and Max was the fastest runner on the team, possessing the speed of a proverbial bullet.

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“I see movement,” Zulu’s 2IC reported. Dave Katz adjusted his scope as he lay flat on the tile roof. “In the cemetery. He’s alive, but he is now cut off from us.”

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“Damn!” Jake hammered the plaster wall with his fist, causing dust from the defunct house to billow around him.

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“Any visible injuries?” Grant Beckett, team medic, asked as he fleetingly met Zach Connor’s steely gaze across the room. Both were ticked off at their situation, and Six was cut off from them. The odds of Max surviving dropped considerably, given the number of hostiles they faced.

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After taking a moment to scan again, Dave replied, “Unable to tell. He’s hunkered down on hallowed ground. The explosion might’ve covered his escape. I don’t think Herrera’s men can see him from their position. They probably think he’s dead.”

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Dave sent up a silent prayer that it would remain the case. The thought of Max being taken hostage turned his stomach. Salazar’s men would torture the kid just for the fun of it because they had been making significant inroads into locating the elusive leader of the brutal cartel that was a major player in not only drugs but also human trafficking and arms dealing.

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Graveyard

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His chest heaving from an adrenaline surge, Max attempted to slow his racing heart and heavy breathing. He shifted in his hiding place as the last pieces of the metal hail fell around him. Softly, he muttered, “That was too close for comfort. Damned glad Dave gave me a heads-up. What am I gonna do now?”

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Glancing around the abandoned mining town’s burial ground, Max noted he would be located in short order if he couldn’t figure out someplace better to hide. His eyes stopped on a stone grave marker for Hector del Pozo. He mentally translated the engraving below the name. I made some good decisions and some bad ones, but I really went in the hole with this one.

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Max’s face morphed into a wry smile as he chuckled. “I’m right there with you, Hector. But at least I’m not in the hole yet. And if I can help it, I’ll avoid it for many a year.”

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He keyed his headset, hoping Zulu would hear him, although he only heard static. Cognizant Jake would’ve demanded status from him by now, Max attempted to communicate, “Zulu One, Zulu Six here. I’m still in possession of all my parts. Not receiving you, but hope you have good copy. I’m gonna find a way back to you if I can.”

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Moving to his knees, Max felt pain in his right hip. His eyes darted down and found a thin metal shard poking out of his pants. “Well, shit.” He prodded the area and didn’t think the metal penetrated too deeply. He yanked it out and pressed a hand to his hip to staunch the bleeding.

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Dilapidated Building

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“We can’t leave him hanging out there alone,” Finn huffed, wiping the dripping sweat from his forehead. Wearing full tactical gear in triple-digit weather was a bitch.

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“Three, if we go out there, our asses are toast before we get even halfway to him,” Dave spoke the hard truth. As much as he wanted to rescue Stirling, an attempt would be fruitless, and they would all end up dead.

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“Zulu Six, do you copy?” Jake paced, hating having no options. “Zulu One to TOC,” he tried again. If he could reach Lockwood and get support from the Infantería de Marina waiting at exfil, there might be a chance of getting out of this. In the back of his mind, the faces of Jamie, Eve, and Tommy played on a loop … he must find a way, or his kids would be fatherless.

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Jake blew out a breath. “I need options. Any bright ideas?” Silence met his request, further hollowing Jake’s heart.

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“I say we go out in a hail of glory and take out as many of those sons of bitches as we can on our way out,” Finn stated.

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Zulu Five, the team’s K9 handler, shook his head at Zulu Three as he petted Rocky to keep the dog from running after Max. Rocky bonded with Max quickly and seemed to have a sixth sense when the team’s rookie was in trouble. This situation certainly fit the bill, so Zach said, “There’s gotta be a way to get to him. Something we haven’t thought of yet. Some—”

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“What the hell?” Dave said, abruptly cutting off Zach. He couldn’t believe his eyes as he spotted Max’s progress. “One, Six is moving.”

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Graveyard

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Four heavy-duty trucks stopped just outside the cemetery, and men piled out, preparing to assault his team’s position. Needing to save his brothers, Max desperately sought a solution. As a black SUV halted over a huge pothole, a risky idea popped into Max’s head, along with several other thoughts.

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Cali’s right. My death is an eventuality, but at least I can protect my team and give them a fighting chance. Jake’s and Dave’s kids need their fathers, but no one needs me.

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When Juan Herrera, their High-Value Target, exited the last vehicle, gloating over killing the dimwitted soldier who tried to drive to the house, Max took offense at being called stupid. His plan to retrieve the one truck that survived the initial onslaught had been the only option if they wanted to leave here alive. It would’ve worked if Herrera hadn’t possessed an RPG launcher.

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But on a positive note, they believed him dead. Therefore, they wouldn’t be expecting a rear assault. As the HVT began ordering his men to move forward to take out the rest of the soldiers who dared to attempt to apprehend him, Max ignored the twinge in his hip, kept low behind headstones, and maneuvered himself toward the rear of the Ford Expedition.

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Reaching the hedge near the end of the wall close to his desired location, Max checked his last mag. He was almost out, so every shot must count. Dropping to his belly, Max slithered under the Expedition and crawled forward, positioning himself in the significant dip in the road that would afford him some protection.

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He almost laughed as Hector’s headstone came to mind. I really went in the hole with this one. Hope this is a good decision.

Sighting the hostiles, Max planned his order, leaving Herrera for last, hoping Zulu would grab him so Farris could obtain the intel they needed to bring Salazar’s organization down.

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Max figured he could take out half a dozen before they zeroed in on his position and maybe a few more before a hailstorm of bullets came his way. That would draw their attention from the building, allowing his teammates to handle the remainder.

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He drew a deep breath, then caressed the trigger between heartbeats. Herrera’s henchmen started dropping like flies as Max targeted one after another, shooting as fast as possible. The men appeared confused when their cohorts crumpled to the ground like puppets with their strings cut.

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Max dispatched several men with precise headshots before they figured out the threat came from behind them. As predicted, bullets riddled his location. Max dropped his head, hoping his helmet and the depression he lay in would protect him … he couldn’t move from his place, or he would end up so full of holes he would become a human strainer.

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Hot liquid poured onto his helmet and splashed his back and shoulders as the radiator was hit with multiple rounds. Though it burned, he didn’t think his skin would blister. When the gunfire reduced in intensity and stopped, Max remained still, wondering if it was a ploy to make him lift himself and give them a target.

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Not in this lifetime. I might be headstrong, but I’m not foolish and don’t have a death wish, ran through Max’s mind.

Crunching gravel alerted Max to men approaching. He swallowed hard, not relishing the idea of becoming a hostage, but at least his brothers now had half a chance to exfil.

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As his team kept watch, Jake took a knee in front of the bullet-riddled SUV that Max had crawled under. With his heart in his throat, he feared the worst when the kid didn’t move. Though believing no one could survive the hellacious firestorm unleashed in his direction, Jake said, “Six, it’s me, One.”

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At the sound of Marshall’s voice so close, Max almost thought he was hallucinating. Raising his head, Max’s gaze met Jake’s and detected relief.

“You get the rest of them?” Max inquired, as Jake asked, “Are you hurt?”

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Jake answered, “Yes,” and Max replied, “No harm.”

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Max wiggled out from underneath and spotted Zach putting a black hood over Herrera’s head as Rocky kept the HVT immobile and Finn secured Salazar’s top lieutenant’s hands behind his back.

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“Damned gutsy move,” Dave said as he eyed the kid.

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“What the hell possessed you to do something so half-cocked? You could’ve been killed. Surprised you’re not littered with holes,” Jake barked, relieved yet also pissed off and astonished by Max’s selfless and heroic action to aid them.

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Pulling himself up, holding onto the bumper, then putting most of his weight on his left leg, his right hip aching something fierce, Max met Jake’s angry eyes head-on. “Hector gave me the idea. Any of you would’ve done the same.”

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“Who the hell is Hector?” Finn snapped.

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“A guy in the graveyard.” Max unlatched the chin strap to remove his helmet, then wiped the sweat and dust from his forehead with his damp sleeve, turning it into a muddy streak.

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Grant stepped forward, visually assessing the kid. He didn’t miss the blood on Max’s pants and the way he held himself on one leg, but his main worry was a concussion. “Max, there isn’t anyone else in the cemetery … at least alive.”

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“Teflon Boy is seeing ghosts in a haunted boneyard,” Finn quipped, surprised Max lived after his hair-brained stunt.

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Max chuckled. “Not quite.” He told him about the words on the headstone as he settled his borrowed tactical helmet back in place. “Can we get out of here now?”

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They all agreed, and after a quick inspection of the available vehicles, Zach hopped into the driver’s seat of an older model double-cab Silverado and turned the ignition. “This one isn’t shot to hell. Should get us outta here.” He then whistled for Rocky to join him.

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Max took a step and winced. Grant was at his side in seconds flat. “No harm, my ass. What’s wrong with your leg?”

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“Only a little piece of shrapnel. Nothing big,” Max responded.

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“I’ll be the judge of that. Put him in the bed, and I’ll check him out as we drive,” Grant instructed.

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Max attempted to move independently, but in an instant, Jake and Finn stepped on either side of him, grabbed his arms, swung them over their shoulders, and lifted his weight off the ground. “Christ, I can walk. Put me down,” Max demanded.

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“Humor me, Kid,” Jake replied, moving to the old, battered Chevrolet.

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Unfortunately, no one on Zulu spotted the man hiding in a house nearby, who observed the scene and took photos. Having captured a valuable image, Martín Celador slunk back into the shadowy recesses.

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He wished the goggles, beards, and helmets hadn’t obscured the faces of the other five SEALs, but at least he got a clear image of the one who foiled Salazar’s plan to wipe out the team sent to Mexico in response to the border patrol officer murders. Salazar would reward him well for his efforts. However, his boss wouldn’t be pleased with Herrera’s colossal failure and would deal with Herrera harshly.

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When the truck the SEALs piled into was far enough out of town, Celador dialed his encrypted satellite phone and spoke rapid-fire Spanish, providing a detailed account of what transpired, and arranging to be picked up.

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