Chapter 5
Gnawgahyde had spent the last three days scoping out the area around the Joe base. While conducting his intel, he noticed that no other air vehicles had entered or left the secret underground compound. Unfortunately for him, the poacher was unaware of the second entrance/exit site for the base. So, as far as he knew, the G.I. Joes that had landed in the chopper several days earlier were still inside. On a positive note, the poacher was a surprisingly patient man; having once waited out an entire pack of hungry hyenas that had come across the corpse of an elephant he wanted to plunder. It took nearly eighteen hours for the pack to pick the bones clean but when they were done its ivory tusks ripe for the taking. The filthy big game hunter was vicious, but not stupid. The hyenas were an inconvenience but they were also needed to help clean up his messes and to eliminate the evidence of his illegal activities. It might take a little longer but he wasn’t dumb enough to attempt to get his spoils from the hungry pack mid-meal. He had waited almost a full day for the voracious hyenas; he could wait a couple days or even a week to see if the Joes would make any strategic moves.
* * * * *
The Marines back at the camp had never seen a terrorist group quite like this one. They possessed technology at levels well above U.S. military grade. Instead of tasers, the Cobra troopers had electric shock whips capable of delivering a lethal dose of electricity to a full grown man at six paces. In addition to the foreign tech, there was also the odd recruits. There was one who stood out a little more than the others. He was over six feet tall and wore a black, latex, full head mask complete with red swimmer’s goggles and what appeared to be the mouthpiece for an underwater breathing apparatus. This man’s attire consisted of alligator skins woven into a sleeveless vest, a belt and boots. His pants were military-grade black with a large knife strapped to his right leg and a well-used bullwhip hanging from his belt on the left. If his clothing wasn’t strange enough, the fact that he wrestled alligators and crocodiles while keeping them nearby, clearly was.
Hollow Point and Hidalgo had been mentally over the lay of the compound numerous times. Both had watched as the strange crocodile rustler had set up his pets in man-made moats around the perimeter of the base. They had studied the odd air force squadrons and timed out the changing of the guards, realizing that everything was very methodical. This group had been well-trained and appeared to make few mistakes. The captured Marines wanted to get their revenge, but at the moment, they simply didn’t have the means to do it.
“We have to hope that PFC Kordos was able to escape and find help.” Hollow Point was hopeful for his friend. “And if these rabid dogs hurt him…. Then so help me god, we will make them pay!”
“Relax Hollow Point, he’s resourceful and I know as a result of my latest spirit quest that he will bring help.” Hidalgo continued to outline for Max all positive attributes and skills that PFC Kordos possessed. For the time being, they would have to sit tight and to continue to hope for a break in the terrorist ranks as a way to get out.
* * * * *
I saluted my new found G.I.Joe friends and began to make my way through the dense foliage of the savanna on my way back to my previous base camp. Pathfinder would continue to shadow me until we got closer to the Cobra sentries. He was then instructed to make it look like he captured me in order to get us both inside the base. Whatever happened, I had to make it look good. It wasn’t long before I caught the glimpse of another Cobra trooper positioned in the tall grass to my right. I paused briefly, noticed that my reinforcements were close behind and made my move. I decided I was going to make it look authentic and attempt to take out this trooper.
I charged through the remaining ten yards and bum-rushed the clueless soldier. At first, I was fearful that I might simply be shot, but the sentry yelled for me to halt before raising his weapon. Giving him little time to react, I took him down with a typical front tackle which knocked his assault rifle from his grip. We tussled briefly and I managed to land a couple of solid body blows before I heard the sound of a reloading shotgun above me.
“Freeze dirtbag or I’ll aerate you!”
I looked up into the muzzle of another gun and froze for a split second not sure if this trooper was or wasn’t Pathfinder in disguise. Two other Cobra soldiers quickly joined up with him and now I knew there was no way I would be getting away. I surrendered myself and received a solid left cross for my efforts. The blow disoriented me briefly and I was grabbed abruptly by my shoulders in order to keep me on my feet. The muzzle of an AK-47 was jammed into my back and I was forced to move forward through the thick grass. It wasn’t long before I could see the high walls and remaining security towers of my previous base camp.
My tower had fallen in the initial Cobra attack, but the enemy had secured the fallen walls, rebuilt my fallen watch tower and placed guards in the other three. I heard the slightly inaudible click of a sniper rifle reload from above as we neared the front gate. I once again held my breath.
“Well, who do we have here? Is that the deserter? You couldn’t just stay away could you?”
I was surprised that anyone had even known I had escaped earlier. The only thing I could think of is that they had gone over the base records and compared them to the prisoner and the fallen soldier’s dog tags. It’s the only way they could have known that I had gotten away. Or maybe, they had seen me flee. Yet, if they had seen me, why had nobody gone after me? A whirlwind of questions barraged my mind and I started to feel like our plan just might not work. Had this been Cobra’s plan all along? Did they overtake the military compound and allow me to escape simply to draw G.I.Joe out in the open?
The gate flew open and I was knocked forward by the butt end of a rifle on the back of my neck. I fell into a forward roll and stopped my forward momentum just short of the open jaws of a twelve-foot gator.
“Get up nice and slow, or Jaws will be having your left arm for a snack!” The voice was garbled but grim.
I looked up to see one of the strangest-looking men ever. He looked like he was into latex bondage and alligator skin accessories. He pulled back on the large gator’s leash and it simply hissed at me through its wide open mouth.
“Croc Master, we brought you a gift. The prodigal Marine has come home in an attempt to save his brothers. Don’t worry, he never stood a chance!”
I couldn’t tell if this “Croc Master” had actually smiled since his mouth was obstructed by some sort of strange breathing apparatus. As I stood back up, I was punched hard in the gut and then led into the stockade. The only thing that kept me at ease was the fact that Pathfinder had infiltrated the compound with me and that my boot camera was already sending back images of the base to Flint and the others. I may have taken a few bumps and bruises, but I knew that the Joe team would soon be sending in the cavalry. All I needed to do was to make ready the internal reinforcements.
Having been promptly tossed into the base prison with my Marine brothers, I would finally know just who had survived the initial assault. As I fell face first into the stockade, I was almost immediately picked back up to my feet by two well-known faces.
“PFC Kordos! You’re alive! You came back for us!” Hollow Point was clearly happy to see me. Hidalgo nodded in agreement. “Please tell us you didn’t come back alone. Our captors haven’t been the most gracious.”
I looked around at the rest of the Marines in the cell. Several appeared battered and bruised. Others wore makeshift slings supporting broken arms or hands. Hidalgo’s left eye was black and blue and swollen shut. Their captors had not killed them, but they had also not gone easy on them.
“It looks worse than it is. This I can assure you. They have fed us regularly and we have only been abused mildly. They have chosen one soldier each day and use mild torture in the hopes of getting information as to why the U.S. needs a presence in central Africa,” my old friend Hidalgo explained.
“Why do they care? What is their plan?
“We really don’t know. There has been little prattle to be heard coming from the outside.” Hollow Point continued. “Please tell me you brought help.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I have brought more than just any help. I brought back...G.I.Joe! All we have to do now is just wait for their signal.”
“Hey! Quiet down in there newbie or we’ll shut that pretty little face for ya!” The Cobra guards outside were serious, and I figured I should hold my tongue as to not welcome a fresh new beating. In addition, I really didn’t want them hearing about our plans. I instantly switched to silent Marine hand signals. I sat down on the western wall under the only window in the cell. Pathfinder would find a way to get me word when the time came. In the meantime, I needed to not only fill in my brothers-in-arms but also to formulate a plan of just what we would do once the Joes did get here.
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