Everyone having sex is at least 18. This story is a work of fiction. I made it all up. Check reality at the door and enjoy it for what it is. Special thanks to goducks111 for his help and making this a better story.
This story is a continuation of the Rescuer. It's a good read on its own, and it helps set up this story. It's not required reading, but as I said, it's a good read. I took liberties with the children in the Rescuers, they didn't fit this story well, so I changed the names, sex, who they were born to, and what order they were born. This has zero effect on the original story and a significant impact on this story.
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Chapter 15 -- We need an exterminator
Going back to base was very difficult. The women wanted me big time now. I was embarrassed at how they looked at me. I almost ripped the head off the first guy on my team that made a joke of the calendar, in a gesture of frustration. I later apologized, even before I was told to by my sisters. I eat at home often; it's too difficult going to the mess hall.
My team has been running a bunch of easy missions. The drug smugglers have been very quiet lately. With any luck, they've moved on. A major ejected from his plane that had mechanical issues, and it took several days to find him. I sense they are bored, just the way I like it. Interesting is bad, people are in danger.
An alarm comes over the base loudspeakers. We are to meet at our designated area immediately, ready for deployment in twenty minutes. This is not a drill.
Phil comes directly to me, grabs my coat, and drags me away from everyone.
Phil scares the hell out of me as he says, "The Americans watch our coast, especially up your way. There is a mass of boats collecting a mile off the coast. They are well-armed and have attack helicopter support. The Americans have some assets their sending on the way quickly. We have our jets prepping. Other planes nearby are also prepping. We are dropping your teams off on their flank so you can cause as much trouble as possible.
"Our best rifle unit is heading to your house. Two other units will secure the beach after they land. That gives us pressure on them from three directions. We believe your house is their destination." Holy shit! "Your dad is prepping. They are contacting guides to move people clear. Your house is on remote night operations mode.
"It's a long walk, they won't run. Our people will get there first and set up away from the house. The Americans will take out the attack helicopters for us. You have extra ammo; you'll need it. GO!"
I go back to my family and my teams, "We're going in first. Grab the extra ammo they have for us. I bet we use it all. Get in the helicopter now."
Once in the aircraft, I explain, "They are prepping to take our house." I hear crying. "They have a good plan, and we are getting help from American fighter jets as well as other jets from three Canadian bases, they're all in the air now. They have attack helicopters. This is now a shoot to kill engagement. We are being dropped on their flank, we need to slow them down and distract them as much as possible.
"A whole rifle company, one we trained, will start at the house and march towards the enemy. This entire plan has the earmarks of Phil and dad. You know dad, this as a contingency plan of his for something, and he developed it over many years. We are dropping off on the top of a hill.
"We will have nice shots as they pass in front of us. If they run a few at a time, they all die. Otherwise, we get a bunch. Use the hill as cover, show as little as possible. I don't want to show off our position for as long as possible."
The rest of the trip is silent.
We wait two hours before all the dogs point North. We let the first row get about a third of the way across before we open fire. They drop at an alarming rate. Even when they run, they continue to drop at an alarming rate. Collectively, this group is amazing at the rate of killing moving targets. Still, there are a lot of attackers. They run in bunches, and many more make it than don't.
I see an attack helicopter coming our way. Oh shit. I will direct our fire at them when they get in range. I am in their range, and they send a volley of dumb missiles over our heads. They will swing around and wipe us out. This is bad, we need to move.
As I am thinking about them, a Canadian fighter puts an air-to-air missile into the middle of the helicopter. It drops on top of a large group of men waiting to run across. Nice shot. He was gone long before I could catch his number. I wonder, did he time his shot on purpose?
I don my white outfit and take off for the forest. I want to see how many are waiting to ambush us. I find two. They do not survive the knife wounds I inflict. There are several injured from the helicopter blast. I call over my team. Bonnie and the other medic assist. We stay for an hour until the beach group catches up to us.
Now we advance for thirty minutes, to the edge of a clearing. We dig in. I already know how this will end. What remains of their main force runs head into our best rifle company. They will get shredded because we trained that rifle company, and they shoot much better than the attackers do. The bad guys will retreat and won't expect us. After the first volley dies, I will call out to "lay down their rifles and surrender."
They surprise me. The people in the open do surrender and lay down their rifles. We stand up like dummies. Their colleagues in the woods start shooting again. I don't hide, I shoot all that I can see. I see lots of blood in our line. Paula, Pam, and I are hit. Paula is the first shot; Bubba retrieves her as the bad guys are still shooting. However, they are in the trap now and dying fast. I don't feel anything, not even falling over. Pam is screaming, I hope she isn't too bad.
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I am awake, I feel a deep pain in my chest, and it's hard to breathe. I don't like this. I am a failure; I know how dad feels now. Even worse, I endangered my family and may have got my family killed. I feel like shit. I start to cry. It's a while before Bonnie finds me.
Bonnie is crying, "Why didn't you say something." I can't talk.
Bonnie says on the radio we use, "Hunter and three more need a chopper at the retreat point. Get here quick."
Bonnie gives me Morphine. I can relax. My thoughts become cloudy, and I am soon asleep.
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That night, all the national news programs were going to lead with a story about a calendar taking the nation by storm. With me leading a group into battle and getting life-threatening injuries, the sensationalism is running full speed. They ran a calendar commercial to lead the evening news, then they talk about how my life is in jeopardy. Susan's friend got orders for ten million more calendars that night. I am clueless.
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Waking up, I am surprised to see Barry and the retired general in my room. Two sisters are asleep in chairs. I can't talk. Barry does just fine.
Barry is deathly serious, "Pam is in bad shape. There is a specialist here in Montreal, it was decided that you would all be brought here. Paula will be fine. They hit the best part of her vest. Paula lost part of her shoulder; she is done in the field. You also got hit in the shoulder, and the bullet split into four parts, doing some internal damage. They are pretty sure you will live."
The retired general smiles, "You won't see true darkness for a while. Your fans are holding candlelight vigils outside the hospital in your honor. They all have your calendar, and they are out there in the cold crying because of your condition."
I fall asleep.
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I wake up to Bonnie taking my pulse. I still can't talk, but I try.
