Atlantis by Robert Doherty Read Free Book Online Page A

looked like the fog was lifting on this side of the river but it was just as thick on the other side.
    “That’s strange,” Flaherty commented. He didn’t like the look of the fog. It was yellowish-gray with streaks of something darker in it. He’d never seen anything like it in all his years in the field. He turned back to Castle.
    “My man here,” Flaherty said, pointing at Dane, “thinks we're going to get blown away if we go down there. So far he's four for four on calling ambushes. I suggest you listen to him.”
    “There's no VC down there,” Castle said.
    “I don't know what's down there,” Flaherty said, “but if Dane says there's something bad, then something bad is there.”
    A shadow came over Castle's face. As if he were resigned, Flaherty thought with surprise. “We have to go,” Castle simply said. “The quicker we get this over with, the better. This isn't negotiable. It's too late for all that. We all signed on, we do what we're paid to. There’s no other way.”
    The three of them stood on the ancient stone rampart, each lost in their own thoughts, each realizing the truth of Castle’s words. They had all taken different roads to get here, but they were here together, cogs in a machine that was not overly concerned with the quality or length of their lives.
    “Let's get going then,” Flaherty said.
    They rejoined the other two men and began the descent, Dane in the lead. As they left the craggy rocks behind, they again went under the blanket of green. It was dim now, despite the sun. Flaherty was used to that. No light penetrated the triple canopy unblocked. Halfway down the ridge toward the river, tendrils of fog began snaking their way through the trees until visibility was down to less than forty feet.
    They pressed on. It was like walking in place, the trees and other fauna the same, the ground sloping down, the fog crowding around. Then they could hear water running, getting closer, until Dane, walking point, saw the ground drop off in front of him.
    Dane halted, looking out onto the river. It was shallow and fast moving. The swirling fog occasionally parted to show the far side, a dark green line of jungle forty meters away but his vision couldn't penetrate beyond that. The fog was much thicker across there, a smear of grayish white overlaid on top of the green vegetation. But even the trees looked strange, sickly almost. It was chilly and the sweat on the men's skin met the damp air, producing goose-bumps and shivers.
    Castle moved past Dane and slithered down the bank until he was knee deep in the water. He pulled a jar out of his ruck and filled it with the water, resealing the lid and putting it back in his pack.
    “We have to cross,” Castle said, looking up at the four men who were kneeling on the bank, the muzzles of their weapons pointing in the direction Castle wanted to go.
    “What are you doing?” Flaherty demanded. The water sample bothered him.
    “I'm not authorized to tell you that,” Castle said.
    “No, you're only authorized to get us killed,” Flaherty muttered. He gestured. “Thomas and Tormey, cross with Castle. Dane and I will provide far security, then you cover us.”
    Thomas climbed down without a word or a look back. Tormey looked at Flaherty, then across the river and back at his team leader before he followed. Flaherty thought he had never felt the responsibility of command as sharply as the moment Tormey’s face shifted to utter resignation.
    Dane extended the bipod legs of the M-60 and lay down on the bank behind a log. He flipped up the butt plate and put his shoulder under it. Flaherty joined him. The other three men were moving in a triangle, Castle in the lead, Thomas on the left and Tormey on the right, ten meters between each man.
    “Call them back,” Dane suddenly said as the men reached the halfway point.
    “What?”
    “Call them back. It's an ambush!” Dane's voice was low but insistent.
    Flaherty whistled and Thomas stopped, ten