by Alex Howell
But as Mason looked at Raina, something new was clouding his judgement—something called love. Staring at her back, and seeing her auburn colored hair gently falling over her slightly dirty and smudged, white tank top, he found himself unable to allow for the risk of her getting killed.
And as the sniper in the tree shouting once again, “I mean it amigo! Drop it! Drop it now!” He began to lower his weapon as he shouted, “Alright—you got me. I give up!
But this was only a feint—because the second he lowered his gun, he leapt forward and shoved Raina to the ground just as bullets ripped into the Earth just where she had stood. Mathew Benton meanwhile realizing what Mason Walker was up to, ducked behind a tree and shot off a rapid succession of rounds from his semiautomatic up at the platform above.
The first shot was wild and whizzed harmlessly over the gunmen in the tree but the second bullet hit the sniper who had fired at Raina, hitting him right in the head. The third bullet then tore through the left shoulder of the first gunman a split second later. The gunman was astonished at the onslaught and was knocked backward into the massive tree trunk on which his platform had been constructed.
But the daze was only momentary as he raised his still good gun arm, aimed it at Mathew Benton and screamed, “I’ll kill you!!”
Like a master chess player Mason was ready for this move however, as he pulled a grenade from his belt, and hurled it right up onto the platform. The man just barely had time to see the grenade being lobbed his way before the whole platform exploded into a multitude of wooden splinters, blood, and gore.
The silence that permeated in the immediate aftermath was a clear sign their adversaries were dead. Mason meanwhile, down on the ground still shielding Raina with his own body wiped what was undoubtedly a clump of sprayed bone bits and brain matter from out of his eyes as he cursed, “Shit—next time remind me to wear some freaking sunglasses!”
3
Breaking through the Pain of the Past
M EANWHILE AT COOPER’s COFFEE HOUSE ON THE CAMPUS OF STANFORD UNIVERSITY.
Clara Walker was sitting outside the coffee shop nursing a cappuccino and occasionally stealing a nervous glance at the screen of her phone. This wasn’t her just being an idle busybody—she was waiting for a text message from her old dormmate Serena.
Even though Serena was taking the summer semester off, while Clara was bogged down with classes for her summer months—the two had kept in close contact. They frequently texted each other and called one another on occasion, and by doing so felt that they were becoming closer than ever before.
They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder and perhaps Clara did appreciate her old dormmate a little more now that she was gone. It was after all pretty lonesome in her dorm room by herself. But the real glue that bonded them together was the mutual trauma they shared just a few months prior.
Both Clara and Serena you see, had been sucked up into the lecherous clutches of a sex trafficking ring. And although both were rescued before any real physical harm had come to them, the emotional and psychological trauma was more than enough to keep them up at night.
Serena was actually more shook up about the ordeal than Clara was, and just a few days ago she had broken down and called Clara up to cry on her shoulder. Through the mutual adversity they faced these two girls who initially seemed at odds with each other were fast becoming the best of friends. So it was, that Clara was pleasantly surprised that Serena would be making a trip back from her hometown of Seattle where she had been staying with her folks, just to come see her at Stanford.
Seeing a text from Serena pop up on her phone announcing, “I’m here!” put a smile right on Clara’s face. She then looked up to be greeted by the mischievous, fun loving red head she knew and loved. A big grin filled Serena’s face as she chirped, “Well—aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!”
Full of excitement Clara got up from her seat and gave her friend a big hug as she exclaimed, “Serena! You made it! Right on time too!” As Clara and Serena disentangled themselves Serena joked, “Of course! I didn’t want you to think I got kidnapped or something…” Her sentence fell flat however, as a frown crossed her face and she somberly remarked, “Well—that’s probably not the best thing in the world to joke about these days.”
Clara quietly agreed, “Yeah…”
The two then sat down and for a moment and just looked at each other with the kind of knowing gaze that only two emotionally close and bonded friends can muster. Finally, Clara broke the silence by asking, “So how have you been? How are you holding up out there in Seattle?”
Serena nodded, “Good—good. Everything is going pretty good.”
She then thought for a moment before continuing, “I’ve actually been able to reconnect with a lot of my old friends from High School.”
Clara inquired, “Really?”
Serena nodded, and remarked in a slightly sarcastic tone, “Yeah. Ever since I came back to Seattle it’s been like a veritable high school reunion out there. Seriously—everywhere I go I’m bumping into somebody from back in the day.”
Clara taking a sip of her coffee asked, “Really?”
Serena nodded, “Yeah it’s been a real blast. I’ve went to a lot of concerts and festivals—that sort of thing.”
Clara sighed, “Sounds like a lot of fun.”
Serena sensing Clara’s dissatisfaction with her own life, asked, “Well—what about you Clara? What have you been up to?”
Clara dryly laughed, “What little old me? I’ve just been painting the town red with my three best friends.”
Serena not sure where she was going with this, arched her brow, “Really?”
Clara then laughed, “Sure—I’ve been getting busy with my three best buds—books, books, and more books!”
Serena couldn’t help but laugh at Clara’s silliness. From someone else such humor might fall flat or even seem downright annoying, but with Clara her sweet absurdity was always amusing. She had developed her sense of humor from her father, but the object of her father’s odd joking around were usually a little coarser than anything Clara could ever come up with on her own.
As she looked down at the table and began to nervously fidget with her phone, Clara surprised her friend with what she said next. In a low quiet voice, she revealed, “I also met a cute guy.”
Growing immediately interested, Serena inquired, “You did?”
Clara nodded, “Yeah—his name’s Travis.”
Serna laughed, “Uh okay—do you know anything about him other than his first name.”
Clara grinned, “Yeah he’s a political science major and he took the same anthropology course I’m taking now. That’s what got us talking, since he noticed my book and started talking about the class.”
Serena encouraged her, “Well—that’s a start anyway…”
Serena then asked, “Did you give him your number?”
Clara shook her head, “No…” Before she offered up the explanation, “After what happened with Ben… I’m just a little too scared to make that step.”
She was referring to her ex-boyfriend Ben Walters, AKA Benaiah Benowitz, who had betrayed her trust and tried to turn her over to sex traffickers. This was of course, a painful reality that Serena understood all too well since she herself had run afoul of the same group of miscreants.
The most troubling thing about it was that Ben seemed like such a nice guy—but yet, more often than not, looks can indeed be deceiving. And since such a charming, “nice guy” turned out to be so rotten, it made Clara seriously question her own judgement when it came to any new men that tried to come into her life.
Serena could most certainly understand that sentiment, as she offered, “That’s alright—maybe you are just not ready yet. That’s all.”
Clara then reached over and opened the front of her backpack that she had laid out on the table, and produced a scrap of paper.
Serena asked, “What’s that?”
Clara pointed at the
series of numbers scrawled on it and informed her, “He gave me his phone number.”
Serena questioned, “But are you going to call it? I thought you weren’t ready yet?”
Clara sighed, “Well—that’s where you come in.”
Serena squinted her eyes as she stared at Clara, “Me?”
Clara nodded, “Yeah...” She took a breath and continued, “I’m going to call him up and I’m going to arrange to meet up with him—but I want you to come with me.”
Serena chuckled, “What am I your chaperone?”
Clara smiled, “Think of it more as being my douche detector.”
At this bizarrely crafted statement, Serena burst into laughter, “What? Clara Walker! I’ve never known you to talk like that!”
Serena was right, Clara normally rarely said a crass word, but today she was ready to let them rip when it came to describing all the potential low lives she had come to loathe. When it came to weeding out the creeps and duds from the real-life studs, Clara decided that she wasn’t going to pull any punches.
With a smirk on her face, Clara reiterated, “Whatever Serena—but if you think a guy’s being a complete douche bag, you just let me know okay?”
4
Recovering the Initiative
A T THAT VERY MOMENT ON THE RAIN SLICKED GROUND OF A WILDERNESS CLEARING IN THE AMAZON.
Mason awkwardly untangled himself from Raina and as the two stood up, she informed him, “Mason… A part of me wants to thank you. But another part wants to tell you off.”
Taken aback, Mason gazed at her, raising a brow, “Really?”
Raina nodded, “Yeah… I mean you did sort of save my life just now, but at the same time I don’t appreciate the special treatment.”
Mason almost laughed, “What? Special treatment?”
Raina sighed, “Seriously… You went out of your way to save my ass…”
A remark which prompted Mason to chuckle, “But I like your ass…”
Only to have Raina snap, “Mason! I’m being serious here!”
The conversation was cut short however, when Kyle chimed into their comm links, “Hey! What the hell just happened?!”
Mason grunted into his receiver, “Did you hear that shit?”
Kyle answered, “Just heard a bunch of yelling, screaming and explosions!”
Listening in, Kyle’s choice of words caused Mathew Benton to laugh and look toward Mason with wistful admiration, as he remarked, “Yeah that was just classic Mason William Walker at work...”
Mason couldn’t help but grin at Benton’s remark, he knew that when Matt started calling people out by their middle name, he really meant business.
Kyle meanwhile, seeking to stay on subject inquired, “Uh—Okay, well who the hell was it that you guys were doing battle with? Were they the hostage takers?”
The mention of which brought the group’s minds back to their erstwhile hostage Nelson. Mason turned just in time to see the trees rustling as he ran down the wilderness path. Mason shouted, “Shit!” before springing off after him. Benton and Raina followed close behind.
Like a human freight train Mason bulldozed right through trees, vines, and branches right back onto the trail. And seeing Nelson in the distance, he screamed, “Stop right there or I’m going to throw a grenade at you!”
The words must have struck home, because as soon as Mason uttered them, Nelson—his will to resist completely sapped—collapsed onto the ground. Mason and Raina then ran toward him as Benton remained at the mouth of the trail to guard it against any potential further interlopers.
Upon reaching the pathetic form of the former hostage it was obvious he was sobbing. Mason was relentless however and kneeling down in front of him he put the gun right to the man’s head as he warned him, “Listen—don’t think I’m about to feel sorry for you. After what you pulled you could have gotten us all killed.”
He then glanced over to Raina and muttered, “Or worse.”
Mason knew all too well the horrors that Raina may have been exposed to if she had been captured. It wouldn’t take much for a bunch of drug dealers to decide to sell a beautiful woman like her into sexual slavery. A fate that Raina, his daughter Clara, and even his daughter’s roommate, all three had just barely escaped a few months back when Onyx crossed paths with an out and out sex trafficking ring. That was a close call—since then Mason wasn’t about to take any further chances.
It was Raina herself however who proved to be much more sympathetic however, as she knelt down before the huddled mass of Brian Nelson and chastised Mason, “Hey! Come on! We don’t even know exactly what happened?”
Mason growled, “I know enough! This guy was the bait that almost got us captured—and or killed!”
After Mason made this heavy proclamation, Nelson practically curled up in the fetal position, could be heard whimpering, “What choice do you think I had?”
Mason wasn’t going to have it however as he snapped, “You had a choice to not help a bunch of narcos spring a trap on us!” Mason took a breath and continued, “If you would have simply asked us for help—”
The man then sat up and wiping his tears away, answered frankly, “I’d be dead.” Coughing and taking a deep breath he then offered, “Look, I can’t outrun bullets. They had their guns aimed right at me the whole time and I would have been made target practice for Amigos dos Amigos.”
The man then lifted up his pant leg to reveal a bloody, open wound, festering with maggots, as he informed them, “Believe me I know.”
Sickened at what she was seeing Raina gasped, “Oh my God—when did this happen?”
Nelson quietly answered, “The last time I refused their instructions.”
Mason still not wanting to show any compassion for the man, glowered, as he grumbled, “Hmm—likely story.” He then grabbed some handcuffs and roughly jerked the Nelson’s hands behind his back as he slapped the cuffs on him.
Nelson, his tears already dry, with surprising ferocity complained, “Damn—what the hell is this? Am I under arrest?”
Mason laughed, “No—I’m not a cop. That’s just a little extra restraint because I don’t trust you in the least.”
This harsh treatment and a pained look on the young man’s haggard face prompted Raina to protest, “Mason! He’s a victim here!”
Mason sternly rebuffed her however with, “Raina there must be something seriously wrong with your memory because just a few moments ago this creep nearly got you killed—remember that.”
Raina knew that Mason was just trying to look out for her, but she was infuriated all the same. He didn’t have to explain to her the danger that she was in. She knew the stakes; she just saw it differently that’s all. She knew that sometimes people like Brian Nelson were simply given a bad set of circumstances and led to make bad decisions. She knew that what Nelson did wasn’t right, but she was willing to have a little bit more mercy for his mistakes than Mason was.
Feeling the need to set the record straight, Raina rebuked Mason’s previous analysis, “My memory is just fine Mason. I’m just trying to see the big picture here. I know what Nelson did—and the danger he put us all in. But I also know he was under severe duress.” Raina paused before adding, “And I know that people can crack under the pressure.”
Mason wasn’t about to give ground in this argument but more immediate matters would intervene as Benton came jogging up to announce, “Hey we better get a move on, I think I just heard some footsteps in the distance! More might be on the way!”
Mason growled, “Shit!” And with the full ruthlessness of a hardened soldier taking over, he roughly yanked Nelson to his feet and pointing a gun to his back shouted, “Move! We’re heading back into the bush!”
Once back in the cover of the wilderness, Mason paused for a moment to allow everyone to get their bearings. Nelson for his part decided to take a load off his painful foot by sitting right down on the forest floor, as Mason and Raina stood looking on. Mathew Benton then walked up to Mason and h
anded him a high-tech looking piece of eyewear.
Taking it, Mason asked, “What the hell is this?”
Benton grinned, “You wanted glasses right chief? Well there you go!”
Mason holding the flat piece of folded eyewear in his hands thought they looked like something from the movie Bladerunner. Mason unfolded the glasses to look at the lens as he asked, “What the hell are they?”
Benton as cryptic as ever responded, “Just something to see with! Those optics pack a punch. You can see as much as a mile away.”
Putting them on Mason muttered, “What like binoculars?”
But as soon as the glasses closed around his eyes and he was seeing through them, he realized the magnification was way off. He saw trees as if they were right in his face, and as he turned his head the overmagnified trees swirled around him in an out of focus, and nauseating fashion.
He then found Benton, who even though he was several feet away looked as if he were right in his face as well. Mason cursed, “Damn…”
Benton asked, “Well—how you like them? Chris Bradley just made these bad boys at the base before we left.”
Staring at the zoomed-in visage of Benton, Mason sarcastically quipped, “Well Matt, one thing is clear, I can certainly see your nose hairs like never before, this is truly a marvel of modern technology.”
Benton laughed, “What?” Before he realized, “Oh shit—yeah you’re going to have to adjust the settings Mace. Just use your eyeballs!”
Mason asked, “Just my eyeballs?”
Mason chuckled, “Well that’s funny. I can recall a certain Sergeant back in the SEALS who in a real pinch would tell us to use a totally different set of balls.”
Raina always acting like the resident mom correcting the boys, chided him, “Mason!” But as the absurd look on his face and the goofy way he said his words repeated in her mind, she couldn’t help but burst into laughter seconds later as she exclaimed, “Mason you are something else.