by Alex Howell
Sounding startled at Raina’s rebuttal, Kyle stuttered, “I’m not alone—Chris is here…” Before completely buckling under the pressure and backpedaling, “Sorry guys… Just a joke—just a joke.”
Mason growled, “Enough jokes. Let’s get serious here.”
A now much more subdued Kyle responded, “Yes sir.”
Mason then thought to ask, “Is Chris listening in too?”
Chris Bradley was indeed present at the command post in Rio De Janeiro, Brazil where Kyle was running the operations. As Kyle Garrison confirmed, “Yeah he’s back here what’s up?”
Mason then informed him, “Alright, tell Chris I’m going to plant his gift he gave me.”
An outside listener might think Mason was talking about flowers, or perhaps planting a tree in the rainforest. But such pleasantries were far from Mason’s mind, the gift he referred to was something that Chris Bradley, the team’s explosive expert had given him shortly before leaving. It wasn’t any kind of shrubbery Mason wished to install—he planned to plant a bomb.
Kyle remembering as much, remarked, “Oh yeah—the plastic explosives he made.” Kyle then offered, “I already saw what you did with that grenade Mason—that sniper installation no longer exists--nice work.”
Mason replied, “Yeah but I can’t just level the place—the plastic bombs are a much lower grade explosive, aren’t they?”
Kyle answered, “Yeah—they are small and direct, creating just minor explosions to very specific targeted areas.” Kyle then added, “You have three of them so I would suggest placing one on the back and sides of the house. That should drive the bogeys out without immediately killing them.”
‘Just what we need—more prisoners .’ Mason couldn’t help but think to himself.
Looking over to their current charge, Nelson, he shook his head in disgust. If things continued as they were, pretty soon they would have a whole caravan tramping through the rainforest.
Nevertheless, he was determined to go forward with the plan. He handed both Benton and Raina each a plastic explosive, before declaring on the comm link, “Alright we’re about to move in.”
Just as Mason was preparing his team to make a break for it however, Marshal Oliver’s voice cut through the transmission and squawked, “Wait! Wait! They got kids in there Mason! Don’t be stupid! Do not plant the explosives yet! I repeat—don’t plant the bombs!”
Mason cursed, “Damn—what? Kids?” Marshal then readily informed him, “Yes, I just got intel that kids were taken from a nearby village and are being used as hostages.”
Mason feeling sickened and enraged, glared at Nelson and barked, “What the hell man?! Why didn’t you tell us there were kids in there?”
Nelson seeming to be honestly taken aback, protested, “Hey man—I didn’t know. I swear.”
Not having time to argue, Mason grunted, “Alright—whatever.”
Mason then roughly grabbed Nelson by the wrist and told him, “Come over here a second.”
Startled, Nelson protested, “Wait—where are you taking me?”
As Raina and Benton looked on, Mason pulled Nelson up to a nearby tree and finding a sturdy branch slapped a pair of handcuffs to it. As Nelson groaned in a mixture of pain and despair, Mason raised Nelson’s arms over his head and locked the other end of the cuffs hanging from the tree around the cuffs on Nelson’s wrist.
Seeing the sorry sight of their captive practically dangling from a tree branch, Raina questioned, “Is that really necessary?”
Growing weary of Raina questioning and critiquing his every move, Mason was beginning to really wonder if it was the closeness between them that elicited such a response. Before she would take to his instruction like water, but now she seemed like she wanted to make everything into a diplomatic debate.
He didn’t have time for the discussion however, as he insisted, “Yes, it is. He ran away last time. Pretty soon we’re going to have our hands full. And when push comes to shove, we won’t have the luxury to play nurse maid. In the meantime, he’ll remain safe and secure right where he is.”
Brian Nelson had another idea though, and slightly struggling against the thick branch he was chained to, interjected, “Hey! What if you guys get killed or captured?! What happens to me then? Who’s gonna come get me? I’ll just be left here to rot?!”
A faint smile crossed Mason’s face as he advised the man, “Well then Brian—you damn sure better hope we’re successful.”
Mason then spoke into the comm link for everyone to hear, “Okay folks—before everything goes completely FUBAR up in here, we are going to have to have a slight change of plans here.”
He took a breath and directed, “We are just going to have to rescue the kids first and then take out the baddies after that!”
Raina smirked as she thought to herself, ‘Really? Baddies? Just who are you Mason? An Adam West version of Batman?’
Nevertheless, she admired him all the same. It was truly an inspiration to witness his selfless service and sacrifice. And the fact that he was just a little bit flip in referring to armed drug runners as “baddies” only showed just how tremendously brave and confident he was in the role he was about to play.
It wasn’t a confidence that stemmed from hubris, but rather one that was borne out of several years of worth of successful missions under his belt. Mason knew what to do—and he did it well. It was as simply as that. And furthermore, Raina knew full well that he was more than willing to go the extra mile in order to make sure that the lives of the innocent were protected. In that sense he really was a superhero.
Raina never knew anyone quite like Mason. And despite their frequent disagreements, Raina could never be upset with him for long. No matter what happened—she knew that deep down his heart was in the right place. With a fiery fierceness forged in the heat of battle, yet a deep-seated compassion hidden within—he was one of a kind.
Raina quietly relished these thoughts of her man—even as Mason was hurriedly directing the group to a side door of the compound. They bolted out of their rainforest cover, and keeping a low profile to the ground, raced to the side of the building.
Kneeling down, Mason put an ear right to the door. He couldn’t hear a sound. Looking at the door jam, Mason’s eyes then caught sight of a metal latch secured with a heavy padlock. Mason of course knew that this lock wasn’t to keep people out—it was to keep people in .
Mason motioned for Benton to come over. Mathew Benton—AKA the Ghost—had a tremendous ability when it came to picking locks. He could pick them with a toothpick if he had to. Benton stepped over, took one look at the padlock and pulled a keyring out of his pocket.
It wasn’t a keyring of keys mind you, but a keyring of lock picks of various sizes. Grabbing a hold of one that looked about like a long skinny sewing needle, Benton jammed the pick up into the lock, and wiggled it around just for a second until they heard an audible click as the padlock unlocked.
Benton quickly pulled the padlock off and cast it to the side as he whispered to Mason, “It’s all yours chief.”
Hoping that he wasn’t about to burst into a room full of gunmen, Mason took a deep breath and slowly turned the door knob before flinging the door open. Mason quickly glanced and gave a nod to Benton and Raina before going in.
Stepping over the threshold, he wasn’t greeted by gunmen but rather the eyes of two terrified toddlers—a little boy and little girl seated in two wooden chairs in the center of the room. As he looked at them, Mason realized that they were tied to the chairs and they seemed to have some sort of tape wrapped around their mouths to keep them quiet.
Looking into their eyes wide with fear—if it wasn’t for the tape, Mason was pretty sure these frightened children would have already been screaming bloody murder. Mason was absolutely sickened to see kids treated in such a manner, but at the same time was thankful that it had prevented their potential screams from blowing their cover and alerting the narcos.
Mason motioned for Raina to grab t
he kids and get them out of the house. Call him sexist if you like, but Mason knew that Raina’s gentle feminine touch would probably help to ease the children’s fears much more than two big burly commandos like him and Mathew Benton ever would.
As Raina secured the children, and took them back to the safety of the brush. Mason and Benton then raced back out of the structure with plastic explosives in hand. They quickly circled the house planting them under just about every window in the rundown structure, and doing so in such a stealthy manner that they were not seen or heard.
‘No wonder they called Benton the Ghost’ . Mason thought to himself. He would be called a ghost too if could keep up this routine. And these folks most certainly wouldn’t know what hit them. With the explosives in place all Mason had to do was hightail it out of there, take cover and hit the detonation switch.
Mason and Benton bolted back into the brush, to find the fairly odd sight of Nelson on his feet, but slightly hanging, handcuffed to a tree branch. Raina was kneeling nearby with the two children who were now untied, and remarkably calmer. Looking over at them, Mason saw Raina speaking softly to the little girl who was holding her little brother tight.
Mason couldn’t quite hear what she was saying but he couldn’t help but be struck by how much it put him in the mind of Bree and how she used to talk to Clara. The feeling was so real it was almost like he was having some sort of flashback right then and there. Benton must have noticed Mason’s distance gaze as he placed a hand on Mason’s shoulder and asked, “Mace man—you alright?”
Mason snapping himself out of it muttered, “Yeah man... Yeah I’m fine.”
He then held up the remote detonator in his hand, and advised, “Aright—get ready.”
Pressing the button, the three strategically planted bombs immediately blew up. The explosions were small but they were powerful enough to shake the walls and blow out the windows in which they were planted.
It was certainly not something anyone inside would be able to ignore. And then predictably enough, the whole compound was evacuated in an unorganized fashion, with five men bailing out of the building in a state of panic. Running right into Mason Walker, Mathew Benton, and Raina Martin’s line of fire.
7
Sorting Through the Chaos
M EANWHILE IN THE UNITED STATES.
After utilizing about three tables worth of napkins, both Clara and Serena felt dry enough to at least get up from the table and head to the door. As Travis walked with them, he again apologized for what must have been the umpteenth time, “I’m so sorry, I’ve never seen him act like that before.”
Serena quipped, “Oh yeah? I guess you don’t know your friends that well.”
Clara was more merciful however and accepting his apology tried to assure him, “It’s alright—it’s not your fault.”
As Travis held the door open, he practically begged, “Please… Just let me know if there is anything that I can do to make it up for you.”
Serena then piped in, “Well—besides punching Mark in the face for us… I don’t think there is.”
Following the girls outside, Travis was insistent however, following them to Serena’s car. Serena not really wanting the entourage at this point, elbowed Clara and whispered to her, “Hey girl, my d-bag detector is just about to go off here. Could you tell your friend to back off already?”
Serena then unlocked her car doors and hopped into the driver’s seat. Clara halfway opened the passenger door before turning to the seemingly distraught Travis and telling him, “Seriously man… don’t worry about it.”
Travis sighed, “I just never imagined that something like this would happen.”
Clara shook her head, “I didn’t either.”
Travis lost in an emotional tailspin and almost begging at this point, came right out and asked, “But this doesn’t have to be the end does it?”
Clara looked at Travis, and couldn’t help but feel for him. He looked absolutely pathetic. “Pathetic but cute.’ She thought to herself.
In the end, Clara couldn’t help herself. Although she knew she should probably just cut it off then and there, she couldn’t help but give the poor guy a second chance. So, she decided to throw him a lifesaver to help him get out of the pool of despair that he was drowning in.
Just before she slammed the passenger door of Serena’s car shut, she extended a simple but powerful invitation to the distraught young man, telling him, “Call me!” And as Serena’s self-driven car peeled out of the parking lot Travis was left alone to ponder the chaos that had been left in his wake.
A WORLD AWAY, IN THE BLISTERING HEAT OF THE AMAZON. After Mason Walker and his team strategically set off explosions around a cartel safe house in the middle of the jungle, five bewildered men came running through the chaos. They didn’t get far. To their astonishment as soon as they reached the tree line, they spotted Mason and his crew with guns drawn in their direction.
Some of them attempted to reach for their weapons, but they pretty quickly knew that it was absolutely futile as Mason screamed, “Freeze! Make one more move and your dead!”
In an almost comical fashion, the dejected group of men with no fight left in them, really did freeze, some in mid stride— lest Mason’s finger was to twitch on the trigger and send them to their death. Seeing them in freeze frame, Mason then shouted at them, “Alright, now get on the ground!”
As the men obediently face planted into the dirt, Mason looked over to Mathew Benton and laughed, “I couldn’t have trained my Lab mix back home any better than that!”
Benton laughed as he dug into his backpack and grabbed several handcuffs and ankle ties, before systematically cuffing hands and securing the ankles of the men together, so that they would only be able to walk but not run. Mason would lead this group of prisoners in front while Benton kept a careful watch from behind.
But first he wanted to get some of his questions answered. Mason boldly strode in front of the captives and asked them, “Who’s the leader here?”
When he did not receive an immediate reply, he tried to communicate with them in a language he knew these toughs would understand. He fired his gun right over their heads.
Upon doing so a man in the center of the group spoke up, “Hey bandito! Don’t waste your bullets!”
Mason glared at the man, “Then give us some freaking answers.”
The man then surprised Mason with his honesty, “I’m the leader of this crew, but it doesn’t mean much. In the grand scheme of things, I’m still just a foot soldier.”
Benton stepping next to Mason decided he wanted in on the interrogation, and asked the man, “Okay leader—what’s your name?”
The man shrugged, “I have no name. What’s it matter?”
Mason then snapped, “Hey! Just like my buddy said—give us your freaking name!”
The man shrugged, “Okay—my name is Doggie.”
Mason stared at the man incredulously, “Doggie?”
The man nodded, “Yes...” while all of his comrades seemed to smirk in the knowledge of some kind of inside joke that was transpiring.
Benton then asked the man, “Okay Doggie—what’s your last name?”
The man barely able to keep from laughing answered, “Oh uh—my last name. Let’s see…. Sure… my last name is Style.”
Benton not quite getting it at first, repeated back, “Uh—your name is Doggie Style?
The whole group then erupted in laughter as the man who called himself Doggie, began to imitate what doggies of a certain age do, suggestively gyrating his hips as he exclaimed, “Because we like to do it doggie style holmes!”
As the men burst into another round of raucous laughter Mason wasn’t going to have it as he shot right at Mr. Doggie’s foot, missing it by just a centimeter. As he jumped back, the man immediately stopped laughing, as he shouted, “Hey! You want to kill me?” Mason shouted back, “Sure! That can be arranged!”
Just then Mason heard Marshal Oliver patch into the comm link h
owever as he ordered Mason, “Walker! Stop! What the hell do you think are you doing? No one told you to interrogate the suspects, leave that to the police! All you are supposed to do is turn them over to the authorities.”
Although the shackled men before them could not hear the other end of the conversation that took place in Mason’s earpiece, they could pretty much infer by Mason’s sudden change of demeanor that he was be given orders from higher up to stand down. After hearing Mason, dejectedly respond into his comm link, “Alright fine. I heard you.”
Mr. Doggie laughed, “What’s the matter buddy? You get in trouble or something?”
‘Thanks a lot Oliver’ Mason thought to himself. Because of Marshal’s interference he was on the verge of losing complete control of the situation.
As he stared at his insolent captive, the idea then popped into his head, ‘So Marshal doesn’t want me to be a tough guy anymore… How about I get myself a tough girl instead?’
Marshal called over to Raina, “Hey Raina, could you help me with something a minute?” Raina not sure what Mason was up to came right over, immediately eliciting a few cat calls from the increasingly defiant prisoners as they ogled Raina dressed in her tank top, tight fitting jeans, and snug pair of combat boots. Raina ignoring the miscreants asked, “You need help with something Mason?”
Mason then yelled at the ringleader, and motioning toward Raina told him, “Hey Doggie! Come here a minute—there’s someone I’d like for you to meet!”
Doggie already had his eyes on Raina and didn’t hesitate to accept the invitation as he waddled over as fast as his shackled ankles and wrists would allow him to. Grinning at Raina he greeted her, “Well—hello.”
Raina completely ignoring the man asked Mason, “Okay—what do you want to do with him?”
Mason grunted, “This guy apparently needs to learn some manners.”
He then told her in a subtle tone whose intention she understood perfectly clear, “Why don’t you teach him a lesson ?”