Midnight Runner - Jack Higgins [4]
"Battle packs in the bag?"
Sister Sarah Palmer reached for it. "I'll handle it, Sergeant."
"Are you sure, Sister?"
She smiled for the first time. "I'm a doctor. The Little Sisters of Pity is a nursing order."
Behind in the reeds, they heard many voices, like foxes crying. "They're coming, Sarge," Jackson said, clutching his rifle and leaning over as she went to work on him.
"Yes, they are. I'll have to put them off."
"How can you do that?" Sister Sarah asked.
"Kill a few at random." Quinn took a couple of flares from his pocket and gave them to Jackson. "If the cavalry make it and I'm not back, get the hell out of here."
"Oh, no, Sergeant," Sister Sarah said.
"Oh, yes, Sister," and he turned and plunged into the reeds.
H e could have used his bayonet, a silent killing, but that wouldn't have caused the panic he needed. His first target was providential, two VC standing so that they could survey the marsh, their heads and shoulders above the reeds. He shot both in the head at a hundred yards.
Birds lifted in the heavy rain, voices called to each other in anger from various areas. He selected one and moved in, shooting another man he found wading along a ditch. He got out fast, easing across the reeds, crouched by another pool and waited. Special Forces had developed a useful trick for such situations. You learned a few Vietnamese phrases as fluently as possible. He tried one now and fired a shot.
"Over here, comrades, I've got him."
He waited patiently, then called again. A few moments later, three more men appeared, wading through the reeds cautiously.
"Where are you, comrade?" one of them called.
Quinn took out his last grenade and pulled the pin. "Here I am, you bastards," he cried in English and lobbed the grenade. There were cries as they tried to scramble away and the grenade exploded.
By now there were shouts everywhere, as the panic he had sought for set in. As he moved on, he saw a road, Vietcong scrambling onto it. He eased back into the reeds to get his bearings and became aware of engines throbbing close by, but by then the late afternoon light was fading and it combined with the tropical rain to reduce everything to minimum visibility. A flare shot into the air, disappearing into the murk, a Huey Cobra gunship descended three hundred yards away and he heard others whirling above, but the Huey was too far away, and he plunged forward desperately, already too late.
T he flare that Jackson had fired had worked, and two crew-men jumped out of the Huey and bundled the children inside quickly, followed by Sister Sarah.
The black crew chief lifted Jackson by the arms. "Let's get out of here, man."
"But the Sergeant's still out there, Sergeant Quinn."
"Hell, I know him." Shooting started again from the reeds and bullets thudded into the Huey. "Sorry, man, we've got to go. It'll be dark any time and we've got to think of these kids."
He raised Jackson to the waiting hands that pulled him in, followed and called to the pilot at the controls, "Let's go."
The Huey lifted. Jackson was actually crying and Sister Sarah leaned over him anxiously.
"But what about the Sergeant?" she said.
"There's nothing we can do. He's dead, he's got to be dead. You heard all that shooting and the grenade exploding. He took on all those bastards single-handed." The tears poured down his cheeks.
"What was his name?"
"Quinn, Daniel Quinn." Jackson moaned in agony. "Christ, but it hurts, Sister," and then he passed out.
B ut Quinn was still in one piece, mainly because the enemy had assumed he'd escaped in the Huey. He made it to the river as darkness fell, thought about it, then decided that if he were to stand a chance he needed to be on the other side. He approached Bo Din cautiously, aware of the sound of voices, the light of the cooking fires. He slung his M16 around his neck, waded into the water, and with his combat knife sliced the line holding one of the flat-bottomed boats. The boat drifted out with the current, and he held on and kicked, Bo Din fading into the darkness. He