Chapter 3
The platoon moved fast after landing.
Grayson took point with confidence that looked good under night vision.
Too good.
He chose the main wadi, the dry riverbed cutting straight toward the crash site.
Easy ground.
Fast movement.
Obvious path.
Callaway watched the cliffs.
Too quiet.
No goats.
No dogs.
No village lights.
No nervous civilians moving away from the route.
Just dark windows and empty ridgelines.
She keyed her radio.
“Lieutenant, pull your left element off the riverbed.”
Grayson didn’t turn.
“Negative. Stay in the back, Callaway.”
“The ridge is wrong.”
“The ridge is a ridge.”
“No,” she said. “It’s a mouth.”
Several soldiers glanced at her.
Grayson stopped and looked back.
“You want to explain that like a normal person?”
Callaway pointed up.
“No wind movement in the brush. No birds. Loose stones stacked near the ledge. Someone cleared shooting lanes.”
Grayson scoffed.
“You seeing ghosts again?”
Callaway’s voice stayed quiet.
“I usually see them right before everyone else does.”
Private Ellis swallowed hard.
Grayson ignored her.
“Keep moving.”
The first shot hit the rock beside his head.
The second cut through the radio antenna on his pack.
Then the whole mountain opened.
Machine-gun fire tore down from the ridge.
RPG smoke streaked from the left shelf.
The riverbed exploded in dirt and stone.
Men screamed and dropped behind whatever cover they could find.
Grayson hit the ground hard, eyes wide, all his confidence gone in a single burst of fire.
“Contact!” someone shouted.
The platoon scattered.
Too low.
Too exposed.
Exactly where Callaway said they would be.
But Callaway was already moving.
Not away from the fight.
May you like
Through it.
Read Part 4 to see why the woman Grayson mocked became the only voice keeping his men alive.
