Three Furs, One House
#7 of Three Furs, One House
Three Furs, One House- Chapter 7
I stood, waiting at Harbor City International Airport's A terminal, waiting for the American Airlines flight that was carrying my boyfriend.
In my paws, I clutched a bouquet of beautiful red and white roses. The scent of the flowers wafted up and tickled my nose, making me sneeze every few minutes.
In my pocket was a small bottle of pain killers, Hydrocodone if I remembered the name correctly. I hoped I wouldn't become as Charlie once was; a pill popper, a druggie. But at the moment, I needed them to keep myself sane.
The car accident the previous night had fractured a few ribs and dislocated my shoulder, along with innumerable cuts and bruises.
Jake, on the other hand, had escaped with nothing more than a small shard of glass stuck into the bridge of his muzzle and a few cuts and scrapes. Lucky bastard...
My big hope at the moment was that when Alex saw me, he wouldn't rush over and tackle-hug me. Even with the strong pain pills, that would just about put me in a coma.
Jake sat in a seat a few yards away. He was excited to see Alex again, as I was, but he hadn't seen him for longer than I had. The last time I had seen him was the night after our stay at Carswell, which was well over two and a half months ago.
"Now arriving, flight 4302 from Washington," the PA system chimed. My ears perked up. That was Alex's flight.
I only had to wait a few minutes for the plane to hook up to the jetway and start disgorging people. The first few passengers from the plane were no one I knew, but then I saw a flash of silvery fur and the dull green blur that was his Army uniform.
"Alex!" I shouted happily.
"Ricky!"
The wolf blurred and crashed into me like a freight train, knocking me flat on my ass and causing a sharp spike of pain to run up my side.
"Ah fuck," I winced, holding my side.
"What happened, babe? What's wrong?"
"Car crash last night," I said through the pain. "I'm okay, I swear. Just hurts is all."
"Aw..." He put on a pouty face and helped me to my paws.
I looked around for the flowers, them having been knocked from my paws. I spotted them laying a few feet away.
My shoes shuffled across the slick tile floor as I went over to pick them up.
"I got these for you."
Alex squealed in delight and hugged the bouquet of flowers to his chest. He buried his muzzle into the fragrant blossoms and inhaled, drawing in the scent of the roses.
I smiled at the look on his face. It had been a while since he'd had anything like that, and I knew he was enjoying it.
"Thanks, love," he said after a minute. He looked up at me, bits of pollen from the flowers stuck to his nose. I couldn't help but laugh at him.
"What?"
I tapped my nose and grinned. "You've got pollen on your nose."
He rubbed his muzzle, seeing the sticky yellow dots stuck to his fur.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. What's say you and I get home?"
"Sounds good to me. It'll be nice to just forget about the past few days."
I winced. There was a sharp bite to his tone. Evidently, something had gone wrong.
"Come on, hon..."
I led the way out of the massive airport over to the shuttle buses. We had to take one of those to the car because there wasn't any chance in hell I'd be able to walk it.
We made it to the car, where I needed a small amount of help to slide into the driver's seat. The Maserati started up at the push of the big red starter button and we smoothly pulled out of the airport and onto the highway.
"How was your flight?" I asked without looking, looking at and flipping off a pickup truck that had cut right across my lane without a blinker and nearly hit us.
When he didn't answer, I glanced over at him to see him hiding his face with his paws and sobbing into them.
"Alex, what's wrong, hon?" I asked, setting my paw on his shoulder.
"They kicked me out."
Firebase Cobra, Baghdad, Iraq- 5 days earlier
It was a scorching hot day at Firebase Cobra, situated several miles from Iraq's capital of Baghdad. Anything metal that got left out in the sun instantly acquired the ability to char flesh and fur, and any water that managed to pool evaporated very quickly.
"Sierra squad, get your gear. You're on Sirhan-Shavo."
"Yes, sir," said the squadron leader, a well-built husky. He turned to the other three members of his squad and relayed the information. "Keep it tight," he finished, picking up his M4A1 carbine.
The other three soldiers set about gathering their gear, including two other M4A1's and an M249 S.A.W.
A huge tan Humvee rolled up, discharging a soldier from the motor pool that quickly vanished back among the dusty buildings and tents.
It took little under a minute for the four to mount up in the vehicle, three climbing into seats and the fourth to hop up on the big Browning M2 fifty cal.
As the Humvee left the base, one of the men in the cabin fiddled with a battery-powered portable radio. The music of AC/DC filled the air, echoing around the metal confines of the boxy truck.
The entire Back in Black album had come and gone by the time the driver finally braked at the outskirts of the small village they had been assigned to patrol. The front passenger turned off the music and the four soldiers dismounted the vehicle, holding their weapons down by their sides. Training had honed their reactions to the point where it took under a second to bring the gun up, aim, and start firing.
"Jackson, take point," growled the section leader. His large triangular ears were constantly moving, scanning for any unusual or threatening sounds.
A muscular wolf trotted up to the front, weapon held firmly in his paws. His eyes scanned everything in sight, making sure they were safe.
The husky, Palmer, hefted his M4 with the attached M203 grenade launcher and stepped up behind the wolf. He gently pulled back the charging handle on the M4, peering into the breach to check that there was a round in the chamber.
The third soldier, a Rottweiler by the name of Newton, stepped up after Palmer, carrying the massive M249 Squad Automatic Weapon. The huge machine gun took belts of the standard NATO 5.56 rounds, although in a pinch one could slide an M4 magazine into the gun's receiver and use those rounds.
The fourth fur, a female shepherd named Sasha Rifenbark, took up her M4 and fell in line at the back. She was cover for their six o'clock, and she wouldn't hesitate to warn her comrades about someone coming up behind them.
In that order, the four Rangers entered the tiny Iraqi village of Sirhan-Shavo.
It was a small village, no more than a rest stop by American standards. Crudely built wooden huts and shabby woolen tents made up the village, with a large area for a cookfire in the center. The intel reports had said that there wasn't going to be any hostile resistance in this place, so no one had bothered to bring along anything more than what they usually had.
They checked hut after hut, tent after tent. Nothing more than a few canines and a pair of felines presented itself after most of the search. The search took a few hours, making them sweat inside their ACUs.
Finally, Palmer called a break.
"Take five, guys," he said, reaching into his pack for an energy bar.
Sasha set her rifle down, leaning it up against the wall of one of the huts. She reached to her belt and snicked the canteen from it, unscrewing the top. She brought the container to her muzzle and took a deep draught from it.
Out there in the desert, a sudden flash caught her eye.
"SNIPER!" she shouted, throwing herself forward just in time for the sniper's round to harmlessly punch into the wall behind her.
The other three reacted just as quickly. Palmer dived behind another hut, M4 Grenadier up with the safety off. Jackson crabbed over to where Palmer was hiding, weapon dropped and forgotten in the chaos.
"We got 'em coming up from the rear!" shouted Newton, who started spraying rounds from the M249.
"They're trying to flank us! Jackson, get your gun and let's move!" cried Palmer, standing and letting out a round from the M203. The grenade flew and landed with a solid crump, sending a geyser of sand and dirt up into the air in front of one of the attackers.
Jackson scrambled forward, paws grabbing for his gun. His claws connected with the stock and he tightened his fist around it, pulling it back with him into hiding.
Once the four of them had regained their paws, they took off sprinting. Any time they saw an insurgent, one of the M4-carriers dropped him and they kept running.
"To the Humvee! Go, go, go!" Sasha screamed at the top of her lungs, dropping an insurgent that was holding up a Russian RPD machine gun.
Just as they rounded the corner and got the vehicle in their sights, the Humvee exploded as an RPG hit the engine block. The truck spun up into the air and fell back to earth with the crunch of twisted metal. The M2 rounds started to cook off, firing erratically and sending fifty caliber shells everywhere.
"Firebase Cobra, this is Sierra One. We're pinned down in Sirhan Shavo, with numerous insurgents closing on us. Repeat, we're pinned down in Sirhan Shavo, unknown number of hostiles, we need extraction, over!" Palmer shouted into the headset nestled over his ears.
"Sierra One, Firebase Cobra acknowledges. We're spinning up the birds now, ETA ten minutes."
"Bullshit, ten minutes. This thing'll be over in two minutes!"
Completely ignoring the fact that their only ride was on fire, the four armor-clad furs took shelter behind it. It took seconds for Palmer to come up with a plan.
"Newton, get around the back and get a field of fire on the town. They'll come from there. Jackson, Rifenbark, cover the front."
The three lower furs nodded and quickly established a pattern of attack. Soon, the insurgents started to fall with ease, the 5.56 NATO rounds chewing them up. One would pop up and fire his AK-47, and then one of the Rangers would blast him at short range with their guns and he'd fall to the ground, dead and bleeding.
It didn't take long for the Taliban to get smart.
Now, they were trying to flank the Rangers, sneaking around the sides of the village in an attempt to get around the back of the destroyed Humvee and kill the Americans.
Eventually, though, ammo started to run short. Newton was the first to run out, and all he had left was the Beretta M9 on his leg. He pulled it and started running through the half dozen clips nestled in his belt. "I'm out!" he shouted.
No one responded, all occupied with the insurgents that were steadily starting to gain some ground.
For the first time, the sharp bark of AK-47s was accompanied by a scream of pain from a Ranger. Two rounds had struck Newton in the shoulder, punching straight through and leaving a spray of blood across the smoldering Humvee.
"Fuck," he snarled through gritted teeth, clenching the wound with his paw.
A Taliban insurgent stepped around the Humvee, AK in paw and a sneering grin on his face.
An easy kill, the fur thought shortly before a 5.56 round punched through his forehead. The jackal fell to the ground, blood leaking from the obscene third eye in his head.
"Come on, John," said Sasha, extending a paw.
The Rott used his good arm to pull his two hundred and forty pounds to his paws, looking around with his Beretta clenched in the injured one.
"Arnold!" she shouted over the roar of gunshots and burning diesel fuel.
Palmer looked around, astounded to see the scarlet red of blood on the Rottweiler's shoulder. He shook himself, bringing himself back around, then pulled a medkit off his belt and set to work while Sasha and Jackson kept the perimeter clear.
Sasha was occupied with watching the front side when she heard the bark of an AK. She whirled around, M4A1 in paw, to see another jackal standing over Jackson. He was laying on the ground, a widening pool of blood under his head and a massive hole in his temple. The jackal had a smug, gleeful look on his muzzle and he was holding the AK up into the air above his head.
Sasha screamed, unloading half of her magazine at the jackal insurgent. The jackal's body seemed to explode in a cloud of red mist as the NATO rounds tore him apart. The AK fell to the sand with a dull thump.
The two other soldiers looked around at her.
"We lost Jackson." It was all she had to say.
The other two gritted their teeth. The loss of a comrade was one of those things that couldn't be ignored.
The thumping of helicopter rotors signaled the imminent arrival of the Apaches, only a few miles away and getting closer with every second.
Palmer and Newton looked up at the sky, searching for the helicopters that would save them. But it was too late.
Multiple gunshots sounded, rounds striking both male furs over and over. They both went down quickly, blood gushing from the wounds and staining the sand a dark red.
Sasha shivered, suddenly icy cold despite the scorching temperatures. All around her, her comrades were dying, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it.
Before she could act, a cluster of Taliban soldiers had her surrounded, AK-47s leveled at her. She snarled helplessly, dropping her nearly depleted M4 to the ground and yanking her Beretta from her leg holster.
One of the Taliban shouted a command at her that she took to mean, "Drop the weapon!" Reluctantly, she did. She put her paws in the air and got down on her knees, certain as she was doing so that she was signing her death warrant.
* * *
Firebase Cobra, Two days later (Alex)
"Sir! You have to see this!"
A noncom came sprinting into my office, laptop computer in paw.
I set down the sheaf of papers I had been reading at the time, a report on the Sirhan Shavo debacle, and clasped my own paws together.
"What is it, Patterson?"
"Sir, a Taliban video just got posted! And you won't believe who's in it!"
I sighed. Now wasn't the time for this... I had just finished writing the M.I.A. letter that I was going to have to send home to Ricky, and I knew he was going to flip out.
"Very well," I muttered after a second, clearing some space on my desk for the noncom to set the laptop.
Once it was on the desk, I pressed the play key and sat back to watch.
The video started playing, a static-y screen starting it out.
The screen cleared to show three furs, two standing. One held an AK-47 and the other a sharp machete. The third fur, a German Shepherd by the look of her, wore an American uniform and was tied to a chair in between the other two. A bag covered her head.
"This fur, this infidel, has tainted the meaning of Allah's Word, and by his Prophet, Muhammed, we will cleanse the world of nonbelievers. Our leader, our Prophet, our Savior."
Without any warning, the fur with the AK ripped the bag off of the American soldiers head.
My jaw dropped at who it was. Sasha Rifenbark appeared on screen, blood trickling down her muzzle from a cut over her eye. She looked up at the camera, and it seemed that she was looking right into my soul as she spoke.
"Alex, if you're watching this... Tell my brother I love him."
The AK-wielding fur punched her across the face, quite effectively silencing her.
"It is time for you to die, infidel." The Taliban jackal's sneering voice cut through my soul as he raised the machete for the death blow. The fur with the AK set it down and roughly grabbed the back of Sasha's uniform, tilting her head back so that her throat was open for the blow.
I couldn't watch it any further, but there wasn't any way for me to close my ears. I heard the whistle of the machete blow and the sickening thud as something heavy fell to the ground.
"Next time, it will be you." The video cut out with a burst of static and the screen went dead.
I must have sat there for several minutes, because eventually, the noncom came up and tapped my shoulder.
"Sir? Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Get the men ready. We're going on a hunt," I snarled, my paws clenched.
"Sir?"
"Do it!"
The noncom, clearly frightened of me, fled the room to carry out my orders.
* * *
Firebase Cobra, Iraq- Two hours later
The entire 32 furs of Alpha platoon stood before me, armed to the teeth. I had told them about the video, and every single one of them had agreed to follow me. I had given the choice to stay to them, and not a single one had backed out. They were out for blood, just as I was and just like Ricky would be when he heard.
"Mount up!" I shouted, gesturing to the convoy of Humvees and APCs behind them.
Shouting various war cries, the group piled into the vehicles as I stepped back towards the OH-6 Little Bird light chopper behind us. I climbed up into the front passenger seat and gestured for the pilot to take off.
A few minutes later, the massive convoy headed out of Firebase Cobra towards Sirhan Shavo, the site of the bloodbath that used to be Sierra Squad.
It only took an hour to get out there, an hour during which I had the opportunity to compose my thoughts and figure out how I wanted to do this. I knew I had to figure out exactly who had perpetrated this act, and I also knew it was someone in that tiny little village. Someone there knew, and it was my job to figure out who and what.
I was doing this without the approval or permission of my CO, and I had a feeling that I'd have to explain this somehow.
The Little Bird flared in for a landing on the outskirts of Sirhan Shavo, and I dismounted quickly, wincing at the blast of heat that struck me like a freight train.
The fur immediately beneath me in the chain of command came up to me.
"What are our orders, sir?"
"Round up every fur in this village and bring them out here. Double time!"
The fur ran away, collecting a few others to help him with his search. While I waited, I found myself a translator and something to drink and just leaned up against the side of the helicopter. This was the first time in a while I'd been out in the desert for more than a few minutes and I was already starting to feel the strain.
"All civilians have been rounded up, sir," said the same fur as before as he came back. I could see a rag-tag group of furs standing away from the village, several armed soldiers keeping an eye on them.
"Very good, Leightner, well done. Papendick, come with me. I need you to talk to these people."
I stepped up to the group of furs and shouted to get their attention.
"I am Second Lieutenant Alexander Eblen of the United States Army Rangers. Two days ago, three of my men were killed here and another was captured. I need your help finding those who have done this."
My translator repeated my words in Arabic to the furs. All at once, the entire group began protesting, telling him that they had nothing to do with it and that they knew nothing.
"Sir, they claim not to know anything about it."
"I don't believe that. Demand the answers!"
Papendick started shouting at them, repeating himself several times and demanding information from them.
Eventually, I got tired of hearing the same thing and I put my arm on my translators shoulder to stop him.
"Leightner, take five random ones from the group and line them up."
"Yes sir."
I saw him roughly stride into the group of furs and randomly select a few, shoving them out of the group and over to the wall of one of the huts.
I drew my M1911A1 and racked the slide back. The first of seven forty-five caliber rounds slipped into the chamber as I held it up.
"Ask them what they know."
Papendick repeated my words to them, and again he was told they knew nothing.
I got fed up of being lied to. I hate it, and I can't abide by it. I put the barrel of my handgun up to the back of a furs head and pulled the trigger calmly.
The gun barked, brass casing flying through the air. The wall ahead of the line turned red from the splatter of blood. The fur's corpse fell to the ground, limp.
"Tell them I won't accept that for an answer!"
He dutifully relayed my words, though I could tell that my unexpected display of violence had definitely unsettled him.
One of the furs, an elderly jackal with a patch over one eye, stepped directly up to me and started screaming at me in Arabic.
Leightner came up to him and roughly wrestled him back into line.
To make a long story short, that day, Sirhan Shavo ceased to exist. After the villagers had been killed, the village had been torched.
Later that day, my CO found out what I had done and I was immediately removed from active duty. My connections were such that I had no worries of a court-martial, but I wound up getting a dishonorable discharge from the military. They put me on a plane home the next day.
I looked at Alex, seeing the tears in his eyes. I had some in my own, mostly because of my sister's death. I hadn't heard from her in months, or seen her in longer, but she was still my sister.
"Babe, I'm so sorry," Alex bawled, burying his face in my fur. "I'm so, so sorry!"
I found it difficult to speak. On one paw, I knew that he had to send them out because that was his job, but on the other, it had been HIM to do it. Those two things wrestled with my mind.
I knew I forgave him, but still...