Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (Escaping the Dead) Read Online Free PDF Page A

where to go.
    He got out of the MRAP
and walked among some of the things dropped by the mob.  He leaned down to
pick up a shoe when he heard the shuffling sounds of something
approaching.  He looked back at his truck and saw his crew signaling for
him to get to cover.  But it was too late. The thing had already spotted
him and started moving directly at him.  Lucky for Brad this thing had a
gimped leg, it looked like it had a blown out knee by the way it dragged its
foot behind it.  “Sergeant! Shoot it!” Cole yelled from the turret.
    “No, hold your
fire.  If we shoot with the mob still that close they might come back for
us,” Brad answered. 
    Brad pulled out his
karambit knife and dropped into a fighter’s stance and waited for the crazy to
get within range.  When it got close enough the crazy lunged at Brad head
first, which was a mistake, as Brad was an experienced wrestler.  He
grabbed it by the hair on the top of its head and buried the karambit deep into
the side of its neck.
    Brad thought that would
be the end of it, but the thing continued its lunge, and grabbed at Brads
legs.  Brad had to make a deep sprawl so he could land on top of it, and
keep his legs out of range.  He yanked out the knife and plunged it deep
into the base of the things skull.  This time the creature went limp and settled
onto the ground. 
    Brad got back to his
feet and wiped his blade off on the things pants.  He noticed his hands
were shaking, and he was shocked at the strength of the creature, and that it
didn’t quit, even with five inches of steel in its jugular.
    Brad dropped to the
ground and sat there for a second before dry heaving into the sand next to
him.  When he looked up, his men were standing around him and looking down
at what he had just killed.  Brad rolled the man over and saw that he
looked like a middle aged Asian man.  Not like the typical Afghan they ran
into around this area.  He reached into its jacket pocket and found a
tattered wallet.  The identification card wasn’t in English but he recognized
the papers from his time earlier working at the border.
    Brad folded the papers
and put them in his pocket.  “What is it Sergeant?  What did you
find?” asked Cole. 
    “Nothing guys, do a
quick check on the truck and make sure nothing was damaged. Méndez help me look
this thing over some more,” Brad answered. 
    When the others moved
away, Brad told Méndez that he was sure the papers were Uzbekistan
identification documents.  “What do you think that means Sergeant?” Méndez
asked.
    “Well, I hope it
doesn’t mean that this has spread into Uzbekistan.  I hope it doesn’t mean
that the border post has been lost.  I hope it doesn’t mean we are
screwed.  Méndez I need you to help me keep this from the men until we get
to Hairatan, I need these guys to stay focused,” Brad said.
    “I think you have a
point Sergeant,” agreed Mendez, “I won’t say shit till we know for sure what we
are looking at.”
    Brad and Méndez walked
back to the truck and got on board.  “Let’s move out Henry,” Brad said in
a low voice.  Henry pulled the vehicle forward and around the abandoned
MRAP in the middle of the road.  They passed a sign that said ‘Hairatan
15km’.  “We will be there soon guys, just stay sharp,” Brad said. 
    “If there is anything
left there.  I mean you saw that pack of them.  They came from where
we are headed.  What do we expect to find there?” Eric said.
    “Just keep your head on
straight and worry about that when we get there,” ordered Brad.
     

 
    The road to Hairatan
passed through the arid desert before it moved near the Amu Darya River. 
Brad could see things slowly begin to lose the tan beige of the desert and turn
green.  As they got closer to the river they would pass an occasional mud
hut.  They continued on as the road turned to the east and skirted the
river; they could see it below them on the left.  Still, they saw no sign