DEADLY DILEMMA by Dan Stratman (story read aloud .txt) 📗

his leg had bled completely through. She grabbed him by the shoulder, “Stay with me. I need you. I can’t hold off these guys alone.”

He mumbled something unintelligible.

With bullets flying all around them, Cyndi kept her head down and quickly removed the blood-soaked gauze from his leg and tossed it aside. Lance writhed in pain as she wrapped his leg with a fresh dressing.

After she’d finished, Cyndi looked at him and shook her head. “You’re no good to me this way.” She grabbed a syringe labeled MORPHINE from the first aid kit and removed the protective cap over the needle. “Time to cowboy up, Tex.” She didn’t bother being gentle. Cyndi jabbed the needle through his flight suit and into his thigh, just above the wound. She injected an amount that she thought would deaden the pain but not render Lance useless in their battle against Pierce and his men.

Lance flinched and let out an anguished moan. He wasn’t sure if his clouded mind had processed the situation correctly, but he thought he saw a smile on Cyndi’s face as she administered the painful shot.

The powerful narcotic took effect almost immediately. Pain from the gunshot wound slowly receded. Lance was able to stand with Cyndi’s help.

With his arm draped across her shoulder, she helped Lance over to a chair at the console. He sat down and gingerly poked at the wound. “What do we do now?”

Her deputy was injured, they were almost out of ammo, and they were fumbling around in the dark.

And their opponents were highly skilled assassins with night-vision goggles.

Suddenly, putting up with her overbearing mother back in LA didn’t seem like such a bad alternative.

Cyndi was overcome with feelings of dejection. She let out a heavy sigh. “If we want to come out of this alive, I only see one option.”

“We’re in this together,” Lance said. “You lead; I’ll follow.”

Cyndi crept over to the door. From behind safe cover she yelled, “Major Pierce, this is Captain Stafford! Are you out there? Are you still alive?”

Hearing her voice, Pierce raised his rifle. He moved it in tandem with his NVGs as he scanned the opening, looking for movement. “Sorry to disappoint you, sweet cheeks, but I’m still very much alive. And so are all my men. Your little stunt with the extinguisher backfired.”

“Hey, you can’t blame me for trying,” she responded flippantly. “We’ve held off the best of the best, but I know when I’m beat. I’ve decided to surrender. But only on my terms.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be dictating how this is going to end, Stafford.”

“Have it your way. I’ll just close the blast door and wait you clowns out. We have two months of food and water in here.” Exploiting their lack of knowledge about the condition of the LCC, she turned toward Lance and yelled, “Close the door!”

“Wait!” Never having been in a launch control center before, Pierce saw his opportunity to complete his mission slipping away.

“Smart decision, Major.” Cyndi summoned up all her confidence as she continued. “These are my conditions. When we leave here, you are to take us directly to General McNeil. I want a security team in place to guard the missile before we leave. My deputy, Lieutenant Garcia, is injured. He will need to be carried out. No one is to enter the LCC until I’ve had a chance to tend to his wounds.”

“Your concern for the well-being of your deputy is touching,” Pierce said in a snide tone. “I accept your terms.”

“I’m not finished,” Cyndi shot back. “I want your assurance no harm will come to me or Lance once we surrender.”

His cold, dead eyes smiled. “You have my word. You will not be harmed.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

“Thank you, Major. I need to change the bandage on his leg. Give me five minutes,” Cyndi shouted.

“You have two. Throw your guns into the hallway first,” Pierce ordered. “I don’t want any nasty surprises when we come in.”

There was no response from the LCC.

Pierce was about to repeat his order when a Beretta pistol slid across the floor. Moments later a second gun came sliding toward him.

Out of an abundance of caution he left them where they came to rest. Pierce slapped a new thirty round mag into his rifle. He signaled Lopez to do the same.

While waiting for his prey to voluntarily walk into his trap, Pierce leaned back against the wall. He removed his Ops-Core ballistic helmet and turned his head to the side, taking a draw on the tube leading to his hydration backpack.

Thoughts of a carefree life on the beach, with one or two Mexican beauties satisfying his every need, briefly flashed across his mind. Unlike the average man, the tantalizing thoughts left as quickly as they had come. Pierce was no average man. Being out of the game wasn’t an option for him.

He’d been orphaned at four years old when his parents had died in a fiery car crash at 2 a.m. coming home from a bar. After no relatives stepped forward to claim him, a neighbor took him to the police station and dumped him on the front steps with a note pinned to his shirt. Pierce grew up bouncing from family to family in the brutal world of the foster care system. Every relationship he’d ever had eventually crashed and burned. The realization that not one single person on the outside cared if he was dead or alive had hardened his heart even more.

The life, despite its obvious drawbacks, was all he had. And even that was tenuous. He knew his handlers wouldn’t lose a minute of sleep over sacrificing him if it achieved their goals for the next foreign policy crisis du jour.

Today would be different. The days of being treated like a disposable pawn were over. It was his turn to play God.

After he’d accomplished his mission, remaining with Delta Force was not possible, of course. Fortunately, there was no shortage of corrupt politicians, corporate executives that feared being