Laura Acton

Dam Neck, Virginia – Zulu Team Room

     FINN McBride glared at the five photos pinned to the corkboard. Calloused fingers of one hand raked through his ginger locks, while his other hand fiddled with a dart as he attempted to make his choice. Zach and Grant had thrown theirs without hesitation, and one picture now possessed two darts while the other four remained pristine.

     “Throw the damned dart, Finn.” Master Chief Jake Marshall leaned against the table and eyed his newly anointed number three. Like the rest of his teammates, Jake was not ready to choose a new Zulu Six. He would prefer to operate as a five-man team and not replace Levi, but Lockwood over-rode his desire, threatening to make the selection if he didn’t pick a replacement today.

     “Haud yer wheesht! Still deciding.” In truth, Finn didn’t want any of them, nor did he aspire to be Jake’s new Three. Zulu Four suited him better. Three was too close to One and Two. Leading a team would never be his style, and he didn’t fancy Three’s responsibilities either.

     Finn had no desire to mentor, shepherd, or whatever politically correct term was presently applied to babysitting the team rookie. But short of leaving Zulu, which would never happen while he could do his job, the position was his, earned via capability, seniority, and the trust of his team leader.

     He shifted his moss-green eyes to the opposite wall, the one with photos of the men who had gone before, previous members of the Navy’s elite strike force who died or were discharged due to injury. Team Zulu was a one-way street, unlike most SEAL teams. Once in, always in.

     Yes, men retired, but by an unwritten law, no one ever transferred out of Zulu while able-bodied, which made selecting a new member a challenging task. They needed to be a tight-knit unit to accomplish the missions assigned to them. If they chose wrong, team dynamics would suffer, and that got people killed.

     Finn settled his gaze on Levi’s photo, which was added last month after he received a medical discharge. Though Finn never truly got on with Levi, he never wished for any brother to be taken out of action the way the previous number three had. His hand dropped to his left side and absently rubbed his most recent scar as his mind returned to the night all hell broke loose.

​

Flashback – Three Months Ago – Village in Algeria

     Pinned down, bullets flying, Finn growled as he applied pressure to his wound while Jake radioed for ETA on the Quick Response Force. Since their usual support team hadn’t traveled with them, they were reliant on whatever QRF happened to be in the AO. Taking another peek at Levi’s position, Finn noted the RPG destroyed the side of the building with stairs.

     Though wanting to make a run for Three’s location, it would be suicide, especially with a bullet in his side. Finn groused, “Intel was shit. Supposed to be ten, not a whole army.”

     “I hear ya, brother, but quit the chatter and focus,” Zulu Two said as he took aim at another tango, creating a fine pink mist when his bullet found a home in the militant’s head.

     Finn shut his mouth, but his mind didn’t quiet. Their intel package indicated only ten of Sayed Massi’s guards would be here, not the fifty or more who came out of nowhere. The drone overhead had not picked up their heat signatures, which led Finn to believe a tunnel system existed in this village.

     This should’ve been a somewhat routine snatch and grab, nothing as covert as their typical missions. The poor intel made him wonder if Massi set a trap for them, but that would remain a mystery unless a miracle happened, and they managed to get the hell out of here alive, which, at this point, seemed highly unlikely.

     As they snatched Sayed and put a hood over the high-value target’s head, Levi alerted them from his overwatch position right before the shit hit the fan and armed men swarmed out of the surrounding buildings. Zulu Three cleared an exit path for them until the explosion took out half the roof of Levi’s sniper perch. Before Levi’s radio quit working, he communicated both legs had been busted, and he couldn’t walk, so he would lay down cover for them as long as possible.

     With no way to reach their teammate, Massi’s men would capture Levi before they could rescue him, and his death wouldn’t be quick since Massi’s faction was known for slowly hacking their enemies to pieces as they filmed the torturous process. Although, knowing Levi, the SEAL would go out in a blaze of glory, schwacking as many of the bastards as he could before he would allow himself to be taken alive.

     Currently trapped in a tiny structure in the middle of the village with Massi’s force surrounding them, the only reason the rest of them still lived is they had the elder Massi, and none of his men dared to send an RPG into their location for fear of being cut-up by their boss’ equally sadistic brother, Anwar.

     Finn wished they could’ve snagged both brothers, but to maintain control of their faction, Sayed and Anwar never resided in the same place. His thoughts silenced as Zulu One relayed, “QRF five mikes out. Prepare to exfil south.”

     “What about Three?” Finn asked as his eyes drifted north where Levi continued to take pot-shots at tangos who dared lift their heads enough.

     “Our priority is to bring in Massi.” Jake’s gut twisted. He never wanted to leave a man behind and under other circumstances would defy orders, but he must protect the other four men.

     “We don’t leave no one behind!” Finn yelled. He and Levi butted heads from the day they both joined Zulu as Five and Six, but Finn refused to abandon him.

     “QRF is sending someone to try to reach him,” Jake explained, not happy with the situation, but not seeing a way for them to retrieve Levi without being killed. He ran every scenario he could think of in his mind. With no cover between here and Zulu Three and the stairs obliterated, even if they managed to run the gauntlet without ending up full of holes, they would be easy pickings as they attempted to scale the outside wall to the roof.

     “Four, Five, prepare the smoke,” Jake directed. “I’ll take the high-value target. Two, on point. Six, bring up the rear.”

     “Roger,” they all responded, none of them happy, as each glanced at Levi’s building, hoping the QRF reached him in time.

     Finn gaped and pointed. “What the … who the hell?”

     Gunfire erupted as a lone figure sprinted towards Levi’s position, bullets kicking up dust around him. Gaining speed as he went, the man vaulted upward using available handholds and structures to climb the wall parkour-style … no ropes and quicker than they’d ever seen.

     Recognizing the runner as friendly, Jake communicated to Levi, though thus far, all attempts to raise him after learning he was injured resulted in no response. “Zulu One to Three, if you can hear me, friendly climbing up the east side. I repeat, friendly coming in from your east.”

     When the crazy man made it to the rooftop without falling, Finn shook his head and quipped, “Hell, whoever he is, he’s faster than a speeding bullet.”

     Although his headset still functioned, Levi didn’t bother to reply to Jake. Unable to stand after the blast shattered his kneecaps, and aware no one would be coming to save him, he had not wanted to say awkward goodbyes, so pretended he couldn’t respond. However, now thankful for a working comms, yet unwilling to be taken alive in case Jake got it wrong, Levi faced east, and leveled his weapon, preparing to shoot.

     Rolling for cover after pulling himself over the edge, Maxwell Stirling called out, identifying himself as Foxtrot Five. Upon receiving the necessary response, Max moved towards the downed SEAL. He took a knee and scanned the man he volunteered to rescue. “Gonna get you out of here in a bit. Just gotta clear a way for your buddies first.”

     “How the hell did you climb without a rope?”

     Max only gave Zulu Three a cocky grin in answer. He unslung the rocket-propelled grenade launcher and sniper rifle before tossing a med-pack to Three. “Morphine’s in there. You’re gonna need it. Our ride will be here in about six mics.”

     Noting Foxtrot Five carried no ropes, Levi asked, “Plan on tossing me off the roof?”

     “Nah.” Shouldering the rocket launcher, he targeted the abode, which his team lead indicated most likely housed the tunnels, and from the angle of destruction to this building is where the RPG came from. Max fired then switched out for his rifle and began picking off tangos as they fled the burning structure. Shifting his focus, Max helped his teammates in clearing a path for the rest of Zulu to exfil to the south.

     Once Zulu and Foxtrot piled in the trucks and made a hasty departure, Max turned his attention to the severely injured man. “Sucks we don’t have time to splint your legs, but I need to harness you to me before the helo arrives.”

     Levi nodded, recognizing how they would be getting off the roof now. The morphine kicking in, he tried to help the young SEAL but ended up passing out before he was fully hitched.

     “Foxtrot Five to Chalk One. Ready for pickup.”

     “Chalk One, incoming.”

     Max slung the launcher and his rifle over his shoulders and did one last check to ensure Zulu Three was secured to his front. When the line dropped to him, he clipped his carabiner into the metal ring embedded in the rope and wrapped his arms around Three. Max grinned as they were lifted, enjoying the adrenaline rush of swinging in mid-air under the helicopter.

​

Present – Zulu Team Room

     Finn let his dart fly, joining the other two in the face of Stewart Babcox, Sierra Seven, from their support team. Although Babcox possessed skills, otherwise he wouldn’t be part of Sierra, or in the candidate pool today, Finn didn’t like the self-aggrandizing guy. He believed him to be too much of a loner, glory-hound, and pretty much a ballbag. When Jake and Dave added theirs to the same photo, Special Warfare Operator Babcox had been summarily eliminated from the selection.

     Now they had only two more to disqualify before debating the merits and shortcomings of the final two contenders and voicing their opinion to Marshall on who should become Zulu Six. The next two rounds went swiftly, knocking out Harris and Paulson, both men exceptional operators, but not the best fit.

     “Okay, boys, were down to Axel Chase and Hector Morales. You’ve all reviewed their files. Anyone got anything to say about either?” Jake took a seat at the table and flipped open the two personnel jackets, prepared to listen as his men expressed their views. Selecting the right man wasn’t easy, particularly in a team of badass individuals who understand the value of teamwork.

     Everyone on his team had been selected to fill a niche or a skill they required. Zulu, as a whole, added up to more than the sum of their parts. They had to. They were the Navy’s premier strike team, created and resourced for dangerous, covert missions.

     Before anyone spoke, Lieutenant Commander Lockwood strode in, followed by Lieutenant Farris, and Logistics Specialist Draper. “Sorry to interrupt. Got us a situation.”

     Kira Draper pursed her lips as she spied five darts in Babcox’s photo. She never doubted the guys’ good sense. Babcox might be okay for the support team, but he would never be on par with Zulu. She noted the remaining two, and if she had a vote, which she didn’t, she would pick Chase. Taking her seat beside Finn, she said under her breath, “Whittled it down to two already?”

     “Aye.” Finn kicked back and focused on the Naval Intelligence Officer at the front of their room. “We goin’ after Anwar Massi?”

     Nicole Farris wanted to find Anwar as much as Zulu, but the man went to ground, and none of her sources had pinpointed his location. And his brother Sayed continued to remain tight-lipped despite interrogation. She clicked a button to display a map. “No, still haven’t ferreted him out. We have another urgent mission.”

     She halted and turned to Lockwood. “Where is he?”

     “He should be here any minute. Needed to be escorted through gate security,” Bryan answered.

     “Where’s who?” Jake questioned.

     Nicole stated with a bit of aloofness, “Your strap for this mission. He possesses certain qualities required for this op.”

     “What qualities?” Jake asked as the door opened. He turned along with the rest of his team and stared at the newcomer. A man wearing a form-fitting, short-sleeved t-shirt, faded jeans, and cowboy boots. He possessed a mop of light-blond, unruly curls, and ocean-blue eyes. His clean-shaven face made him appear young and handsome enough to be a member of a pop music band, but the hard planes of his muscular body, and rock-solid biceps bespoke of a well-honed sailor.

     “Special Warfare Operator Stirling, you’re late. Take a seat, so I can begin,” Lieutenant Farris ordered.

     Maxwell Stirling moved forward as seven pairs of eyes sized him up. Used to being judged, he held his head high and set it at a cocky tilt as he strode to an empty chair.

     “Not there!” Finn growled as he yanked Levi’s chair away. “In the back where straps belong.”

     Changing direction, Max sighted an open spot near a dog. The brown-haired sailor petting the Belgian Malinois sported a patch on his left arm, indicating him as Zulu Five. Lowering himself into the seat, Max focused on the lieutenant commander, still unaware of why he received a temporary assignment to Jake Marshall’s legendary Zulu team.