Read Online Echo Six: Black Ops 7 - Tibetan Fury by Eric Meyer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Eric Meyer
Tags: thriller, Literature & Fiction, Action & Adventure, Mystery, War & Military, Genre Fiction, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, War, Men's Adventure
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Chinese was screaming at him.
"Prisoners do not speak, unless the guard gives them permission to speak. Did you hear me say 'permission to speak'?"
He shook his head.
"No permission was given. You will be punished!"
The man started kicking him, and Campbell felt the heavy boots smashing into his ribs. He knew some of the ribs would be broken, and he'd feel intense pain. It would take time for them to heal, but it was not a problem. In thirteen days time, this life would be ended.
Finally, it stopped.
"Get out of my sight," the Sergeant hissed at him, "Remember the rule. No talking without permission to speak."
He managed to climb to his feet and looked around for his breakfast. He picked up the bowl, but the soup had spilled over the snow-covered ground. All that remained was a small depression where it had melted the top layer of snow. He limped away until he reached Cho. The monk was sitting with a half-dozen other men. Wordlessly, each man held their bowl toward him and emptied a portion of their soup into his bowl. He shook his head, knowing how vital the miserly nourishment was to these men. But Cho forced him to accept.
"Eat, my friend. You will need it later. Otherwise you will die."
He grimaced. "I will die anyway. It may as well be sooner rather than later."
"Don't give them the satisfaction of dying early. Who knows what will happen in thirteen days?"
He slurped the foul tasting soup from the bowl. It warmed him, and he was grateful. As he ate, Cho and the other monks were murmuring prayers, familiar prayers that he found himself repeating in his head.
You people don't understand. The Chinese have passed sentence of death. I cannot know what Buddha has planned for me, but I do know there will be much more suffering. The Chinese will have that carefully planned. It is their way. All I have left is the hope that my next life will be better than this one.
* * *
They stepped off the ramp in a tightknit group, as usual. The colossal slipstream of the aircraft, combined with the hurricane force winds over the mountains split them apart, so when they opened their chutes, they were already hundreds of meters apart. Except for Talley and Grace Ferraro.
He'd stayed behind the main group and indicated for her to go second to last.
"I'll follow you down, and make sure you listen to my instructions. This isn't a vacation jump over Southern California."
He'd expected her to make some snappy rejoinder, but she just nodded her understanding. When she turned to face him, he could see why. She was terrified.
It wasn't a bad sign. Provided she didn't panic, it would make her listen to orders. The last thing she needed was overconfidence, especially on this jump. The men in front jumped, Heinrich Buchmann with Admiral Carl Brooks strapped to his front, and then it was just the empty ramp with a hurricane swirling outside. She gave him another glance, and he nodded.
"Let's go."
Almost as if she'd flipped a switch, her expression changed, and she stepped out into space. He followed almost immediately and picked her up in the green glow of his NV goggles. Talley waited to get well clear of the aircraft turbulence, then keyed his mic.
"Grace, you're doing fine. You need to pull the cord and open the 'chute. We'll be gliding in, and you need your parachute open."
"I can't see anything," her panicked voice came back.
"You're in cloud. Just open your 'chute. I'll guide you down."
Through a break in the drifting cumulus, he saw her fumbling for the toggle, and then the dark material suddenly billowed out into the night air. At the same time, he pulled his own toggle and allowed his 'chute to deploy. He was dropping at a faster rate than her, probably due to her lighter weight, so he made some adjustments and slipped through the sky, beginning a series of figure of eight maneuvers to stay close to her. He checked his GPS.
"You're doing fine, Grace, but you need to vector to starboard. Pull on the right line, and check
"Prisoners do not speak, unless the guard gives them permission to speak. Did you hear me say 'permission to speak'?"
He shook his head.
"No permission was given. You will be punished!"
The man started kicking him, and Campbell felt the heavy boots smashing into his ribs. He knew some of the ribs would be broken, and he'd feel intense pain. It would take time for them to heal, but it was not a problem. In thirteen days time, this life would be ended.
Finally, it stopped.
"Get out of my sight," the Sergeant hissed at him, "Remember the rule. No talking without permission to speak."
He managed to climb to his feet and looked around for his breakfast. He picked up the bowl, but the soup had spilled over the snow-covered ground. All that remained was a small depression where it had melted the top layer of snow. He limped away until he reached Cho. The monk was sitting with a half-dozen other men. Wordlessly, each man held their bowl toward him and emptied a portion of their soup into his bowl. He shook his head, knowing how vital the miserly nourishment was to these men. But Cho forced him to accept.
"Eat, my friend. You will need it later. Otherwise you will die."
He grimaced. "I will die anyway. It may as well be sooner rather than later."
"Don't give them the satisfaction of dying early. Who knows what will happen in thirteen days?"
He slurped the foul tasting soup from the bowl. It warmed him, and he was grateful. As he ate, Cho and the other monks were murmuring prayers, familiar prayers that he found himself repeating in his head.
You people don't understand. The Chinese have passed sentence of death. I cannot know what Buddha has planned for me, but I do know there will be much more suffering. The Chinese will have that carefully planned. It is their way. All I have left is the hope that my next life will be better than this one.
* * *
They stepped off the ramp in a tightknit group, as usual. The colossal slipstream of the aircraft, combined with the hurricane force winds over the mountains split them apart, so when they opened their chutes, they were already hundreds of meters apart. Except for Talley and Grace Ferraro.
He'd stayed behind the main group and indicated for her to go second to last.
"I'll follow you down, and make sure you listen to my instructions. This isn't a vacation jump over Southern California."
He'd expected her to make some snappy rejoinder, but she just nodded her understanding. When she turned to face him, he could see why. She was terrified.
It wasn't a bad sign. Provided she didn't panic, it would make her listen to orders. The last thing she needed was overconfidence, especially on this jump. The men in front jumped, Heinrich Buchmann with Admiral Carl Brooks strapped to his front, and then it was just the empty ramp with a hurricane swirling outside. She gave him another glance, and he nodded.
"Let's go."
Almost as if she'd flipped a switch, her expression changed, and she stepped out into space. He followed almost immediately and picked her up in the green glow of his NV goggles. Talley waited to get well clear of the aircraft turbulence, then keyed his mic.
"Grace, you're doing fine. You need to pull the cord and open the 'chute. We'll be gliding in, and you need your parachute open."
"I can't see anything," her panicked voice came back.
"You're in cloud. Just open your 'chute. I'll guide you down."
Through a break in the drifting cumulus, he saw her fumbling for the toggle, and then the dark material suddenly billowed out into the night air. At the same time, he pulled his own toggle and allowed his 'chute to deploy. He was dropping at a faster rate than her, probably due to her lighter weight, so he made some adjustments and slipped through the sky, beginning a series of figure of eight maneuvers to stay close to her. He checked his GPS.
"You're doing fine, Grace, but you need to vector to starboard. Pull on the right line, and check
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