by Susan Stoker
“You almost stepped on it!” she continued.
Beatle looked down.
Casey pushed him out of the way and picked up some sort of creature from the forest floor. She stood and held it up for him to see—and Beatle couldn’t help the involuntary step he took away from her, and the hideous thing she was holding.
Giggling, Casey said, “It won’t hurt you, Beatle.”
“What is that thing?” Truck asked, seeming more interested than disgusted.
“It’s a Hercules beetle,” she told him, stroking the head of the insect as if it were a pet hamster rather than a creepy-looking alien bug.
It was as big as her hand. It was sitting on the fleshy part of her thumb with its jaws opening and shutting as she ran a finger over the olive-green hard shell of its back. The mouth was shaped like a giant pincher. It looked like it could take her finger off with one chomp.
“Maybe you should put that down,” Beatle said carefully, wanting to knock the insect out of her hand then stomp on it, squishing its guts all over the jungle floor.
“Seriously, it’s harmless,” she told him. “I know it looks like it would bite, but it only eats fresh and rotting fruit. It won’t and can’t hurt humans. Some people keep them for pets. I’ve heard they can even be trained to do little tricks.”
Beatle shuddered. He couldn’t imagine having one of those things in his house voluntarily. He forced himself to look away from the giant bug and instead looked at something more pleasing…Casey.
She was smiling and looked more relaxed than he’d seen her since he’d met her. Bugs really were her thing.
“We need to keep going,” Truck said gently.
“Right,” she agreed. Stepping to the side, she held her hand over a log on the ground and the beetle happily waddled off her thumb onto it. “I wish I had my camera,” Casey said a little mournfully. “I took a bunch of pictures of these guys…before…but I have no idea where it or my notes are now.
“Actually, I think the government packed all your stuff and sent it home with the other women,” Truck told her. “We don’t know if they have your ID and passport, but we can get you out with the birth certificate Blade brought. Hopefully your camera is with your stuff though.”
Casey brightened. “Really? Awesome! Maybe Astrid, Jaylyn, and Kristina can finish their research.” Then her shoulders slumped and she added, “That is…if they’re up to it.”
Beatle couldn’t stand her dejected look and put his hand on her shoulder. “I won’t lie, they were pretty shaken up. But they weren’t assaulted, and I think with some counseling, they’ll be okay.”
“Really?”
Beatle stared down into Casey’s luminescent green eyes. “Really,” he reassured her. Putting a hand under her elbow, he steered her back onto the slight trail they’d been following. He moved his hand down her arm until his fingers grasped hers once more.
They were silent for a good five minutes or so, before Beatle asked, “What got you interested in bugs?” He honestly wanted to know, but he also wanted to keep her mind occupied with something other than the heat and discomfort of hiking through the jungle.
“It was Aspen, actually.”
“Blade?” Truck asked from behind them. “This I gotta hear.”
Beatle heard the smile in her voice as she recounted the memory. “He was always doing stuff to try to gross me out, but when I was eight and he was ten, he brought home his class’s cockroaches. I guess every kid had a chance to bring them home for a week to study them. They were required to do some sort of report on what they are and their activity. Anyway, he thought he’d be funny and he took one out and held it in my face, thinking I’d scream and run away. But I had the last laugh. The roach jumped off his hand and onto his face. He was the one who started jumping up and down and yelling hysterically. The bug crawled under his shirt, and he was hopping around, slapping at himself and crying, trying to get it off him.”
Casey paused to chuckle, and Beatle swore the sound reverberated through his heart. He loved to hear her laugh. Seeing her happy and carefree was something he knew he’d strive to always give her…if he had that chance.
“What happened?” Truck asked.
“I saw the cockroach fall to the ground as he was hopping all over the place. I scooped it up, because I knew Mom would freak if she learned there was one loose in the house. I put it back in its container with the others, but didn’t tell Aspen. He continued to cry and carry on for another ten minutes, sure he was gonna be eaten alive by the tiny little thing. I got sick of his caterwauling and finally told him I had caught the stupid thing.”
“Let me guess, he never tried to freak you out with another bug,” Beatle said dryly.
“Of course not,” Casey said smugly. “Not only that, but I blackmailed him. Told him I’d tell the girl he wanted to smooch all about how scared he was of a little bug if he didn’t agree to take over my chores for the rest of the school year.”
“And did he agree?” Truck asked.
“In a hot minute,” she said with a smile.
“And what were your chores?” Beatle asked.
“Vacuuming once a week, putting the dishes in the dishwasher every night, and picking up dog poop.”
Both Beatle and Truck chuckled.
“Yeah, he wasn’t thrilled, but he did it without complaint. One thing about Aspen I’ve always admired is that when he says he’s going to do something, he does it. Anyway, so throughout that week when he had those cockroaches, I watched them. They fascinated me. Did you know that a cockroach can live a week without its head? It breathes through little holes in its body. It only dies because it can’t eat or drink. Oh, and they can hold their breath for forty minutes, so they can survive being submerged underwater for long periods of time.”
“Oh my God. I’m hiring an exterminator the second I get home,” Beatle muttered under his breath while suppressing a shudder.
He almost grinned when he heard Casey laugh at him. Almost.
“Cockroaches are believed to have originated more than two hundred and eighty million years ago. That’s so amazing to me.”
“Can we please stop talking about cockroaches?” Beatle pleaded.
“So…you don’t want to know that I have five Madagascar hissing cockroaches as pets back home, do you?”
Beatle stopped walking altogether and turned to face Casey. “Please tell me that’s a joke.”
She was grinning from ear to ear, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “Nope.”
Beatle closed his eyes and sighed. “Great. Just great.”
“You re-thinking this, Beatle?” Truck teased.
“Fuck off,” Beatle told his friend.
“They’re really not that bad,” Casey soothed. “They’re fascinating. I love to hear their hiss, it’s amazing.”
Beatle could only shake his head in disbelief. He turned and continued walking.
“Anyway, so my fascination with bugs started with those cockroaches Aspen brought home. Now I get to share with others how interesting they are, and take trips to different countries and see the insects I study firsthand…although, maybe that last part isn’t really a good thing.”
Wanting to take her mind off what she’d been through and bring back the smile and giggles, Beatle asked, “What do you see as we’re walking?”
“What do you mean?” she asked from behind him.
“All I see is leaves, dirt, and places someone could jump out and ambush us. What do you see when you’re here in the jungle?” he clarified.
Casey was quiet for a couple of minutes, and he was afraid he’d lost her to the horror she’d been through. He looked back and saw that, while she was walking slowly, she was looking around her as if she hadn’t ever seen a forest before.
“Life,” she said finally. “I see life.”
“Show me,” Beatle ordered.
“To your right, on that log, is a bunch of click beetles. Those are some of the bigger ones…around two or thre
e inches. But they like to forage for food in the warmer climates of the jungle. See the holes near the base of that log over there?”
Beatle turned to see where she was indicating. He nodded when he saw what looked like a simple hole in the ground.
“That’s a tarantula cave. They get a bad rap, as they’re generally very shy and not aggressive at all toward humans. They hunt mostly at night. Crickets, bugs, and other smaller spiders. Costa Rica has some of the more interesting species of tarantula. The Bluefront, Zebra, and Tiger Rump are a few.”
Beatle hurried them along, away from the hole. He didn’t like bugs, but he really didn’t like spiders. He recalled the movie Home Alone and the way the one bad guy screamed when the tarantula was placed on his face. Yup, that would totally be him if he woke up and had one crawling on him. And he wouldn’t even be embarrassed about it.
“Can you maybe point out some pretty things, sweetheart?” he begged.
“Look up,” she said after a moment.
Beatle stopped their little procession and did as she asked.
“Costa Rica has around fifteen hundred different species of butterflies. But one of the most beautiful and well known is the Blue Morpho.”
Beatle stared at the little flying creatures above their heads. The electric-blue wings of the butterflies were easy to see amongst the green backdrop of the canopy. He lowered his head and looked at Casey.
She had her head back and was staring up at the life swirling and whirling above them.
“Aren’t they beautiful?” she asked.
“Beautiful,” Beatle agreed, not taking his gaze from her face.
After a moment, she lowered her head and smiled at him. “See? Bugs aren’t so bad.”
“Humph,” Beatle snorted. “How you doin’? You need to stop and rest for a bit?”
Casey shook her head. “I’m okay.”
He didn’t insult her by asking if she was sure. But he did look over her head at Truck, and gave him a meaningful look. The other Delta nodded gravely, telling him without words that he’d be sure to keep his eye on their charge.
“What about you?” Casey asked after they’d started walking again. “What made you want to join the Army?”
Beatle shrugged. “I’d like to say it was a love for my country, but that’d be a lie.” He fell silent as he thought about his life before he’d joined the military. He guessed he’d been silent for a bit too long, because he felt Casey gently squeeze his fingers in support. Even that small gesture warmed his heart. He’d never met anyone as good as Casey. She hadn’t carried on and bitched about the fact they had to walk out of the jungle. She hadn’t been hysterical or inconsolable about what had happened to her, even though she had every right to be. She didn’t complain about being hungry, thirsty, or in pain, but he knew she had to be feeling all three of those things.
“My folks didn’t have a lot of money. We lived in a piece-of-shit apartment and many times went without a lot to eat in order to pay rent. My mom did what she could, but since she didn’t have a GED or high school diploma, any jobs she could get were crap. My dad did his best, but he was gone a lot since he worked at a factory in the next town over.”
Taking a deep breath, Beatle looked straight ahead as he told Casey his story. Truck knew it; the team had plenty of time to talk and learn about each other while on missions. “You talked about Blade bringing home cockroaches to study. Well, I didn’t have to worry about bringing any home in a nice sterile, plastic container…they had free run of our apartment. It became a habit to pound my shoes on the floor every morning to dislodge any that had taken up residence there. Any food we accidentally left out was completely inedible by morning because of the roaches helping themselves to it.”
Casey’s hand shifted in his, and he felt her thumb brushing back and forth on the inside of his wrist. She was showing empathy, but he was afraid to turn around and look her in the eyes, not wanting to see pity.
“Anyway, I was working as many hours as possible by the time I was a sophomore. I wanted to help my folks in any way I could. I got a job as a busboy at a local restaurant. I’d go right after school and work until ten at night when they closed. Wages were shit, but every little bit helped. My grades sucked because I never had time to do any homework or study. I knew I wasn’t going to get accepted to any university, and we didn’t have the money for me to go anyway. So joining the military seemed like the best solution at the time.”
“How’d you choose the Army over the other branches?” Casey asked softly.
“Honestly?” Beatle asked.
“Always.”
“They offered me the most money.”
She chuckled. “That actually makes sense.”
“Yeah. And they offered me five thousand more in a signing bonus if I agreed to eight years instead of the usual four. I didn’t even hesitate.”
“Ask him what he did with all the money,” Truck said.
When Beatle didn’t immediately offer up the answer to Truck’s statement, Casey squeezed his hand. “What’d you do with the money?” she asked.
Beatle shrugged. “Put a down payment on a new apartment for my folks, one in a better part of town. Paid the first two years’ rent so they didn’t have to worry about it.”
“He still sends money home,” Truck said quietly. “I met his parents a couple of years ago, and they told me they’re doing fine now and don’t need his money, but he refuses to stop sending it. Gave them the money for the down payment on their cabin in Tennessee too.”
Beatle was embarrassed, but continued walking. “They worked their butts off to try to make my life happy when I was growing up. We might not have been rich, but I knew without a doubt my parents loved me and each other. It’s the least I can do for them…let them have a life without so much worry. Now they can afford to go out to eat and not worry about what bill might not be paid if they splurge. They took care of me for eighteen years, now it’s my turn to give back.” He shrugged a little self-consciously. “It’s what a kid should do for their parents.”
Feeling ill at ease when no one said anything, Beatle hurried on. “Turns out, I was good at being a soldier. Much better than I was a student or busboy. I attended a mandatory information session about Delta Force and decided to go for it. And here I am,” he finished somewhat lamely.
“Well, I for one am very glad you’re here,” Casey said softly, her thumb still moving back and forth over his skin.
Beatle smiled. “Me too,” he whispered.
Just then, the radio in his ear sprang to life. Beatle stopped abruptly and put a hand up to his ear to try to make sense of what Hollywood was yelling about.
“Ambush, ambush! One mile ahead of you. There’s at least—”
The transmission cut off, but not before Beatle heard a hail of gunfire over the radio. The sound of the weapons firing echoed through the forest as well. He whipped around to look at Truck. The other man had pulled out his rifle and was standing right at Casey’s back.
Casey’s eyes were wide and scared as she looked from Beatle to Truck. “That sounded really close. Are the others okay?”
Beatle held up a hand to forestall any more questions until he knew what the hell was going on with his teammates.
“Beatle, route to Guac is compromised. Repeat, compromised. They keep yelling to find the woman,” Coach barked. “Did you hear me? They want Casey! Switch to Plan B. Head west toward the mountain. Toward Volcan Orosi. Then south along its outskirts. We’ll meet up as soon as we can.”
“Fuck,” Truck swore.
“What?” Casey asked, sounding panicked.
Beatle dropped his hand from his ear and turned to face Casey. He untangled his fingers from hers and put both hands on her shoulders. “Change of plans. We can’t go the direct route to Guacalito anymore.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” she asked, her face pale and pupils dilated.
“The guys ahead of us ran into a little trouble. We’re just going to skirt ar
ound them and head west for a bit.”
“But you said the town is south of here. There’s nothing to the west except the mountains and more jungle. I don’t want to be in the jungle anymore!” The last came out as more of a panicked whine than a statement, and he had a feeling she’d hate it if she knew it.
Beatle hated the fear on her face, and the fact that whoever was attacking his teammates were specifically looking for Casey made his skin crawl. There was no way in hell he was letting them get their hands on her again. He knew without a doubt she wouldn’t survive a second round of captivity. Not if it was anything like the first. As he’d told her earlier, he’d kill or die to keep her safe and get her home. “I know, but you’re gonna have to trust us on this, sweetheart. Trust me. I will get you home.”
Beatle watched as Casey struggled with herself and her fears. Her hands came up and clenched the T-shirt at his waist. She was breathing hard, but kept her eyes on his. After a long moment—of which they didn’t have—she nodded.
“Good. And this sucks, because you were doing so well, but we need to move fast right now.”
“Okay, I can do it.”
Beatle shook his head. “No, you’re not at top strength yet.” He glanced at Truck, who nodded. Beatle looked back down at Casey. “Truck is going to carry you for a while, until we’re out of this immediate area.
“No, I can walk fast,” she protested.
Beatle moved his hands from her shoulders to her hips, mimicking her hold on him, and leaned in. He lay his sweaty forehead against hers and said softly, “Not as fast as we need to move. I have no doubt if you were at one hundred percent, you’d be able to outrun any asshole who dared look at you the wrong way. But you and I both know you’re not strong enough yet. The last thing I want is for your feet to get worse, or you to pass out because of dehydration. Truck can carry you easily. I swear.”
He could feel her trembling in his grasp, but he held her gaze steadily. He was aware of time passing and knew they had to get going. Now. But still he waited. He didn’t want to force this woman, who’d been so brave, to do anything. It needed to be her decision. But if she didn’t make it soon, he’d have no choice but to make it for her.