by Reagan James
“He’s Chicken Caesar,” said Libby frankly.
Libby was my absolute best friend in the whole world. She was the sister I’d never had. Straightforward, sometimes blunt and totally offensive (only if you didn’t know her that well). She was also effortlessly gorgeous although she really didn’t seem to notice. We bonded in grade school because kids made fun of our names: Honor and Liberty, and we’ve been besties ever since.
“Chicken Caesar?” I asked.
Libby nodded, “what do you get at a restaurant you’ve never been to before? What do you get when you want to play it safe? What is pretty much always at least moderately tasty? Not too bad, not too good, just always the same no matter what.”
I sighed, “Chicken Caesar.”
“Chicken. Fucking. Caesar,” Libby confirmed.
I left a week later.
Seven
Axel
At last, the pickup approached the security gates of the Green Zone and I raised my hand to signal to the first round of guards. We nodded to each other as the truck slowed down for inspection.
“The Prom King returns,” one of the young guards joked at the inspection point.
They guys had taken to calling me Prom King on account of the whole “chaperone” thing. I had come to expect this casual tone from fellow officers—even though it went completely against my high level training—but they didn’t need to know that and besides, the more I blended in, the better.
I nodded to the young guy, “Damn right I’m the Prom King. Who’d you take as your date to your prom, ‘yer cousin?”
The other guys laughed and smacked him on his back.
The truck pulled forward and I noticed a couple of soldiers playing a pick-up game of football with some of the local kids. It was a comically weak attempt at American Football as we know it, but the mood was light and the kids loved it despite the fact that it produced endless clouds of dust and total confusion about who goes where. Those poor kids, I thought, their childhood was the complete opposite of what I’d known when I was their age.
I was from one of those states that fussy northeast folks didn’t visit much, and that was just fine by me. More mountain range for us, I had always thought. Give me open skies, hunting, and real Americans any day. I learned how to shoot before I learned how to drive, and I drove at nine years old. I grew up in a place where people got milk from cows, not almonds.
My hometown wasn’t that small though, but it wasn’t a city either, it was the type of place where family and country came first. Always. Then again, it was easy for me to love where I came from, my Dad was the mayor and I was his sidekick. His partner, he always called me.
I had the perfect upbringing for a rowdy, adventurous boy. Out there in nature, I learned how to be a man while still gettin’ to have a childhood. There was no Google for answers or Facebook for fake friends, you had to figure it out on your own, learn how to be at peace with your thoughts.
Amidst this dry, punishing heat, I longed for those cool nights under the stars, camping with my family or exploring the woods with the twins—my little brother and sister—untameable little monsters. They followed me everywhere and together we had amazing adventures on my family’s ranch. Camping, hunting, and just being at one with the wild, as my dad used to say.
I always thought of nature as a second mother to me and I respected her immensely. She taught me to be patient and she taught me to rely on myself which came in handy, because on my fifteenth birthday it all came crashing down.
Or rather, it all came burning down.
Eight
Honor
“Shouldn’t we get some sort of priority treatment?” huffed the other female journalist who had previously been bawling but now seemed more concerned with getting back in time for lunch. “You know, military escort and all?”
I saw the soldier smirk cutely and roll his eyes as he pretended not to hear her but honestly, I sort of wondered the same thing. I wasn’t scared, just covered in sand and a bit weary from bouncing up and down on the back of that truck for the last couple hours.
It had been a long morning and I couldn’t wait to dive into a hot shower and my cozy bed (the only truly clean, non-sandy place on this whole continent) and spend the rest of the day editing photos and writing up a story for my editor.
Overall I had managed to get a good pace going with work: I had to file two stories a week on different aspects of “life in the Green Zone” and so far, I’d interviewed military doctors, a couple nurses, a handful of soldiers of all ages and rank, and the canteen’s head cook who led the team that made food for some two thousand personnel. My editor was happy with the work I was turning out and although I still felt like I hadn’t landed that big story, the one that would put me on the map journalistically, I was confident that my time would come. I just had to keep focused.
A couple minutes later the truck stopped abruptly and I realized I had zoned out. The trip was over. We were right in front of my apartment and The Chaperone was standing impatiently on the ground—waiting for me to hop out of the truck so that they could continue dropping off passengers.
“Oh, sorry,” I said awkwardly.
I struggled to get up as I was still wedged in between two other passengers plus I had my heavy camera equipment wrapped around my body.
The Chaperone didn’t acknowledge my apology but instead opened the tailgate with one hand so that I could hop off the back of the truck. I ungracefully edged my butt along the bed of the pickup towards him, dragging my equipment in the process.
“Poetry in motion, huh?” I tried to make light of the situation.
Nothing.
This is so embarrassing.
Time seemed to stand still as all eyes were on me and I couldn’t move fast enough to get off that damn truck. Suddenly the soldier grabbed my hand and effortlessly guided me towards him. With him in charge I seemed to float easily and gracefully.
I followed his lead without protest and practically swan dived into his huge chest as he easily wrapped both arms around me. He lowered me down off the truck slowly and steadily. He didn’t let go even after my feet were firmly planted on solid ground.
I instinctively held my breath as I finally got my first good look at him. He had intense blue-grey eyes, like the way I imagine a wolf’s eyes would be, but the rest of his face was rather sweet looking. Especially his lips, they were pale pink and full, almost juicy. His jaw was strong and matched his huge shoulders and broad chest.
Just before he let me go, our faces inches apart, he winked and half-smiled cheekily at me—a wave of warm excitement rushed through my body and I opened my mouth to say something but he was already back to all business. He let me go and walked away.
“I, um, thank you,” I said, basically to myself because the soldier was already tapping the top of the truck’s cab, signaling to the driver to get going.
I stood in the road for a moment, watching my chaperone drive away.
Nine
Axel
Damn that girl was cute, I thought. No, not cute. Something else. She was sexy but not over the top… what’s the word I’m looking for? Authentic-looking and natural, I think. A classic beauty but with an element of mystery. Something wild beneath the surface. Yes, that’s it. Wild.
As though she never belonged to anyone or anything. A true force of nature. Something was pulling me towards her. I wondered why I had never noticed her before. How long had she been here? Her eyes were so green and clear and her lips—aw man her lips were so—what the hell am I saying?
Focus, Axel.
This isn’t the time.
The remaining passengers were all dropped off. I had to report to my contact ASAP to share the intel I’d gained that day as well as receive my next assignment under the cover of Operation: Chaperone. There was no time to be thinking about some chick reporter. I scolded myself and got my head back in the game.
“Axe,” my contact said as we shook hands firmly and nodded to each o
ther.
We always met in the same place: the Green Zone had a small café near the medical facility. It was mostly visited by the military medics and hospital staff who were too tired and over-worked to care about the quality of the coffee. To anyone walking by we were just two soldiers having a chat. No one ever really seemed to noticed us.
“Sir,” I stood at attention until he motioned for me to sit.
He nodded to the chair beside him and I sat down and asked for water from the server. My contact always drank Orange Fanta. He said it was the only thing he trusted in the entire country other than his men and his guns. I respected him immensely. After all, he wasn’t just some middle man I reported to, he was a highly-decorated soldier and a good man. He was my mentor and I owed everything to him. I was still in school when he hand-picked me out of oblivion and groomed me for a role in the Elite Force Protectors.
There were only six of us worldwide at any given time—always working alone except for our on-site contacts—and when the higher ups rolled out Operation: Chaperone, a fake escort mission that would gain me access to The Fear Division’s network of safe houses in The Red Zone—my contact made sure it was me who was chosen. I wanted to update him on the small bit of intel I had gained that day but he stopped me.
“Axe, Operation: Chaperone is on pause.”
I calmly took a sip of my water and nodded but inside I was completely shocked. What!? Why?! His words angered me but I showed no reaction—exactly as I had been trained. How could this be happening? Before I had time to think, my contact leaned in.
“Today I received word from the highest source that…” he looked around ever so slightly to make sure we were truly alone before proceeding in code, “precious cargo at the micro level has been compromised.”
“Fuck,” I let it slip out.
“Fuck indeed, kiddo,” my contact finished his Orange Fanta and patted me firmly on the back as he got up to leave. “You head out in three days. Details TBD. We’ll talk again later.”
Precious cargo…
Micro level…
Compromised…
The entire tonnage of what my contact had just revealed to me in only a few words made me furious. But I couldn’t react. This is what I trained for. This is what I was built for. It was in my blood. I sat at the table for a couple more minutes composing myself and sipping water slowly.
Keep it together, Axe, I thought.
But I couldn’t just keep it together.
My anger and rage—everything that I had carried with me since my life as I knew it went up in flames on my fifteenth birthday—would finally be put to good use.
Precious cargo…
Micro level…
Compromised…
Eventually I calmed down just enough to stand up and get moving. There was nothing for me to do but wait until I received further orders from my contact. Three days. How the hell was I going to wait three days? I realized I needed to burn off some of this anger or I was going to throttle some innocent bystander.
Damn I was angry.
And motivated.
I needed to hit the gym right away and lift some serious weights. That would make me feel better, at least a little bit. All I could think as I stormed off towards the gym was, in three days’ time I’m coming for you, mother fucker.
Ten
Honor
After I took an amazingly long and hot shower I realized I hadn’t eaten all day—and my day started at 2 am. There was something about the adrenaline of going to the Red Zone that wasn’t exactly conducive to a bacon and egg breakfast. But now, safely back in the Green Zone, clean and, honestly, without much to do for the rest of the day, I figured I’d swing by the canteen and grab a bite.
I searched around my small apartment for something fresh and clean to wear and found only a white tank top and frayed jean shorts. Yikes, Honor, laundry day is majorly overdue! I didn’t even bother with a bra or panties. I know we were supposed to dress somewhat conservatively but everything else I had was covered in sand and besides, it was just lunch. And it’s not as though I really know anyone here—fellow journalists were friendly enough and I had met a couple nurses and nice military medics, but everyone was pretty much focused on their own jobs.
Plus, there was something really cool about not connecting with anyone on a deeper level. I could be anonymous and there was freedom in that. Heck, I could be anybody I wanted to be because I was a million miles away from anything familiar. It was scary as hell and thrilling all at once.
I slipped on my white Chuck Taylor’s, threw my hair in a messy bun, grabbed my sunglasses (and of course my Canon 5D) and headed out. I made the short walk to the canteen and smiled at the beautiful surroundings of this perfectly put together community strangely situated in the middle of nowhere. I was really settling into life in the Green Zone and I felt lucky to be on such an exciting assignment—especially so early on in my career. Dad would be proud.
I entered the canteen and found my way to the self-serve buffet line. Immediately my hunger subsided. I giggled to myself as I surveyed the food and realized it was pretty much good for only one thing: portion control.
Before I could start perusing what was remotely edible, however, I spotted The Chaperone walking by. Instinctively, I started moving towards him. I don’t know what it was about him. He was like a force I couldn’t deny.
Our exchange a couple hours ago as he helped me off the truck had been… I don’t know… something… it was sweet and sexy and I just couldn’t help it. I felt myself drawn to him. I abandoned thoughts of lunch and made sure to bring my camera with me as I called after him.
“Hey Chaperone,” I said in a friendly tone.
Nothing.
Maybe he didn’t hear me.
Maybe he ignored me?
No.
That can’t be.
“Hey… Chaperone!” I said louder as I picked up my pace to a slight jog in order to catch up with him.
He stopped abruptly and turned to face me. His eyes were barely visible under the brim of his sun-faded baseball cap. His face was stoic—his lips didn’t even move—where was the friendly guy I had met just hours before?
“What do you want?” he said coolly, almost meanly.
Ouch.
I cleared my throat and thought of something quickly, “I, um, I need to take your picture, this week my editor is, um, looking for some shots of the soldiers and I, er—” he was walking away from me!
“Hey!” I near-shouted this time.
He clearly seemed irritated.
But at what?
I didn’t do anything!
In fact, didn’t we have super cute maybe-even-sexual tension earlier today?
“I need to take your picture,” I pleaded.
He stopped again, as though he had changed his mind. He turned around, cocked his head to the side, and leaned over me.
“What you need to do is take your camera back to your room and wait quietly like a good little tourist until I say it’s time for another outing.”
He directed me like a flight attendant points out emergency exists—as though people step on planes and forget what doors look like. Frustrated, I persisted, this was not the first ego maniac GI Joe wannabe I had met, I ignored his attitude.
“When are we going back to the Red Zone?” I demanded. In truth, I didn’t really care, I was just trying to make conversation. I needed to get him talking.
“We’re not,” he said over his shoulder as he walked away for a second time. “Correction: you’re not.”
I exhaled slowly, reached for my Canon and lifted it to eye level, I aimed at his back and prepared to shoot. I’d get my pic with or without this jackass’ permission.
Oops.
The soldier heard the clicking of my shutter and stopped mid stride. Instinctively I dropped my camera to my side and held my breath. Okay Honor, maybe you went a little too far this time. He didn’t speak as he approached me swiftly.
Oh shit.<
br />
In an instant he grabbed my right arm just above the elbow and spun me around, together we walked quickly, although I don’t remember my feet hitting the ground much, he said quietly but firmly, “come with me, now.”
Eleven
Axel
You’re being a total asshole, I said to myself as I practically dragged the girl—hell, I didn’t even know her name—to the nearest building I could find. It was a small educational training facility. It would be empty for the next hour or so while the soldiers were at lunch. It was really nothing more than a tiny building, one floor, maybe two or three classrooms and a couple of administrative offices. She had started taking my picture and I had to explain to her why that wasn’t allowed without her making a scene. This might take a while…
“You’re being a total asshole,” she said to me.
I couldn’t help but laugh—yep, just what I had been thinking.
“Wow, you’re laughing,” she scoffed, “nice!”
I had to stop, “listen,” I said quietly as I really looked, for the first time, into her wild green eyes, “come with me and I’ll explain everything.”
Twelve
Honor
Where the hell was he taking me?
We entered a small administrative-looking building—it was immediately cool inside, and quiet. I figured the soldiers or support staff must be at lunch. The Chaperone walked quickly down the short hallway, all the while looking in the rooms as we passed by.