Back Cover text:
Abandoned as an infant, Dan Skinner was named and adopted by Miss Grace Skinner and her brother Ben in Detroit, Michigan. At 14 years of age, young Dan’s budding career as a thief and drug runner was interrupted by a mysterious organization dedicated to the notion that there is more good in the world than evil. Taken to a former Air Force base near Marquette, Michigan, Dan was educated by teachers who loved their work. He was coached by men and women who understood the value of healthy competition and hard work. Dan Skinner thrived.
Recently retired from active duty with the US Marines and now a Captain in the Reserves, Dan Skinner is employed by that same secret organization. He and his best friend Spock are Searchers – looking for opportunities to shine a light on ugliness and hatred, to turn a person or a place away from the dark side of life. They call themselves Rescue Rangers and this is their story.
Prologue – Blood Brothers
Baghdad, Iraq Winter 2010
Two armored Hummers pulled up 100 feet east of three blockhouses. A small street ran east/west on the left. A large partially destroyed factory stood to the south. The area in front of the houses was open and appeared to be an abandoned construction site.
Captain Dan Skinner was escorting Captain Sparks AKA Spock and Joshi an interpreter to a rendezvous with a local Sheik about to turn his allegiance to the good guys. Three snipers and two drivers all armed completed the squad. “Overkill” had been General Hazelton’s comment as he had approved the manpower request. “Preparedness” Skinner had replied. Thirty-one years old with ten years in the U.S. Marines, Skinner was Special Operations lead with a penchant for unorthodox methods but undeniable successes.
“Snipers, take up relaxed positions, eyes on the center house. Drivers, look everywhere else, nice and easy. We’re all friendlies here” Skinner said as he, Spock and Joshi exited their vehicles and squatted behind the first. “Testing comm, 123 can you hear me now?” Skinner said softly. “Yes” Spock replied.
“Okay, we’ve got 40 minutes of sunlight; until then it’s at our backs and in their eyes. Spock and Joshi go in with the money and make nice nice with the Sheik. At Spock’s word we all drive up. Dugan and I exit the vehicles, dump the seabags with the guns and ammo, smartly salute our new allies and we all get the fuck out of here. Poker game starts at 2300 hours in my quarters, bring your money”, Skinner’s green eyes turned to Spock.
“You good with this, Spock?” Dan asked, looking at one of the three people on Earth he called a friend. Spock considered the question, his face a mix of contradictory features. Jet black buzz cut hair over sky blue unmistakably Asian eyes set deep in smooth chocolate skin over a wide flat nose and Mick Jagger lips, lips that now twitched ever so slightly. Instantly, the inscrutable mask dissolved into a wry smile, his eyes danced. “He speaks sincerely, and wants the guns and money we offer,” he replied.
“Ok, let’s do it” Skinner stood as did Spock and Joshi. Taking the duffle filled with cash (now $5000 lighter than when Skinner had requisitioned it), Spock started walking toward the three huts, Joshi had to half run to keep pace.
At six foot three, Spock exuded a regal air even in full combat fatigues. In another age he would have been a Numidian prince attired in lion skin cape leading 5000 horsemen aiding Hannibal’s defense of Carthage. Only Dan knew Spock had no need of Joshi. Fluent in eight languages including Farsi, Spock kept his ability secret. Spock had many secrets,
Born Darius Sparks to a black American baseball star playing in Japan and a famous Japanese fashion model, Spock’s parents had died in an automobile accident when he was two years old. Raised by his mother’s brother, a Shinto priest, in a monastery outside Tokyo, Spock had led a quiet solitary life until a violent altercation with several mocking locals forced his decision to enlist in the US Marines to avoid prison. Meeting Dan Skinner at Ranger training camp had been a turning point in both men’s lives.
Spock and Joshi entered the house, the door closed behind them. Pop Pop Pop “Ambush” came over Spock’s comm unit. Loud voices in Farsi, scuffle noises, a scream and silence.
“Shit” Skinner exclaimed, “everybody down, guns ready”
“Wait” came calmly over Spock’s comm; more Farsi shouted commands.
“Our Father, Who art in heaven” Spock intoned. Pop. More Farsi. Now Spock’s voice calmly speaking in Farsi, then…
“Hallowed be Thy Name;
Three outside three inside
Thy kingdom come,
Thy will be done, On earth as it is in heaven.
Joshi’s down,
Spock took a round in the knee.
Give us this day our daily bread,
and forgive us our trespasses.
Door is clear at 12 two at 9,
as we forgive those who trespass against us;
Spock sits at 3 bad guy behind with knife
and lead us not into temptation
but deliver us from the camera. Amen.”
Skinner reacted instantly, “Snipers, pick your outside man left, center, right. Drivers, when the outside guys go down open fire on the left side of the center house. Not the door, left of the door, take the left side of the building out. Dugan, call Tedeschi, get the Medavac Helo up. I’m outa hear” Skinner said as he cocked his M-9.
“Only two visible outside, Skipper” Lincoln intoned sighting through the scope of his M40A1 Sniper Rifle.
”No problem” Skinner replied as he took a white handkerchief out of his right back pocket. “They’re about to behead Spock on camera, so time is of the essence gentleman”
Pistol invisible at his side, Skinner advanced briskly toward the house. He suppressed the urge to run. “Hello” he yelled waving the white handkerchief. Seventy-five feet away three heads appeared and immediately disappeared in a burst of blood, hair and cloth.
Skinner ran toward the door. “Eight seconds” he mumbled as the wall left of the door exploded in a barrage of fire from the drivers’ .50cal. Browning machine guns. He hit the door with his left shoulder, facing right with his pistol held close to his chest. The door shattered, he looked, lifted and shot. A hole appeared in the right eye of the black robed man standing behind Spock. The force of the bullet propelled the man backward and his knife hand swept across Spock’s neck as he fell.
“Jesus, no” Skinner exclaimed as he dove for Spoke who was tied to the chair and spurting a stream of blood from his neck. Skinner’s peripheral vision had already taken in two still twitching bodies on the left and a very dead Joshi thrown on top of what must have been the Sheik at the rear of the room. Spock looked into his friends eyes and said “You have some of the door in your face”.
Reaching up, Skinner felt a shard of wood below his left eye. “Shit”, he said pulling it out, “that’s gonna leave a scar”. His bloody left hand now reached into Spock’s equally bloody neck to find the source of the torrent. “Dugan, you getting this?” he said as he groped. “Yes, Sir” Dugan replied. “Get the Medavac down,” Skinner continued, “Spock’s got a severed right carotid artery, Joshi and the Sheik are down, we’re gonna…”
“Skipper, you’ve got company coming”, Dugan interrupted, “ten guys in black coming down the street to the south. They ain’t carrying pizza.”
“Okay” Skinner replied, he had found and stopped the pulsing artery and was cutting Spock’s bounds with his other hand.
“We’re coming out, covering fire”.
“Spock, give me your hand, put pressure here, use your thumb and index figure, good, keep the pressure on. We gotta go, buddy”
“I cannot walk” Spock said, his left hand embedded in his neck, his head tilted rightward.
“Oh sure, first I save your sorry ass, now I have to carry that sorry ass out of here too! Shit!” Skinner bent to pick up Spock as he spoke. “Keep the pressure on that artery” he said.
“Don’t drop me”, Spock replied.
Out the door, fifty-eight seconds, where are the bad guys, Skinner was thinking as covering fire began from both snipers and drivers. WOOSH, BOOM, a sun went nova behind Skinner as the abandoned factory, hit with .50 caliber rounds exploded. The bad guys disappeared, Fuel cache probably, he thought as the force of the blast propelled him ten feet forward and set his clothes and Spock’s boots aflame. He remained standing. He started moving, slowly
“Keep the pressure on, Spock, I won’t drop you and you own me a handkerchief” he said through clenched teeth
Three hundred feet above, Captain Jack Tedeschi recovered flight stability in his Sikorsky HH-92 Medavac helicopter. He immediately sighted Skinner as the burning man carrying a man with burning boots. Quickly banking and descending the Sikorsky, Tedeschi aimed a blast of prop wash at the duo. The hot wind and sand extinguished the fire and pushed Skinner with his package forward five feet at the same time blinding him. Sinking to his knees, Skinner fought to keep his balance.
The Medavac landed twenty feet away. Three medics leaped out, two with fire blankets. As the first covered Skinner’s back with a blanket, the second helped lower Spock to the ground onto another.
“We’ll take him now, Captain”, a medic said. “Thank you” Spock said through the blanket as he was carried away.
”No problem” Skinner replied, not feeling the prick of the third medic’s needle into his neck. As he slipped into a painless darkness, the last Iraqi thought Daniel Skinner had was:
“Eighty-eight seconds “.
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