Gunner dangled the surgical cap off one finger. "I'll wear this." Eliminating one if not the other of his distinguishing characteristics.
"And how are you suggesting we get to the barracks where Catherine is being held?" Drew flopped on the hotel couch, flinging his leg over the puffy arm. "It's not like we can drive onto base without identification."
The topographical map was somewhere beneath the blueprints. Gunner pulled it out, laying them side by side.
"When I went on reconnaissance, I found a gulch running through the desert that ends less than a mile from here." He pointed at the visiting officers’ barracks. "That will be your entry point. Once you get close enough just walk in like you’re headed to your quarters."
Drew chuckled. "That'll take balls."
"I'll do it by myself, if you don't have any." Win grinned at Drew, always knowing the perfect thing to say to piss the kid off.
"Fuck you, Winchester." Drew swung his feet to the floor, standing up. "I'll do it, but it is a brass balls type of plan."
"I'm afraid that's the only type of plan that will get Ansel out." And he didn't really think it would work, but getting caught was better than getting his guys shot. Gunner sighed. "If you two have any better ideas…?"
"No." Win was more thoughtful than he let on. "You’re right. The base will be swarming at night, so getting Catherine out then is highly unlikely. Plus, with our experience at breaching, the general will expect an armed assault, not a daytime infiltration."
"Well," Drew said, scratching the back of his neck. "I don't like our odds." And then he smiled. "But I do want to see if we can pull it off."
Win was looking down at the map. "So, when do we do this?"
"O seven hundred tomorrow morning."
"Fuck!" Drew was surprised. "That gives us, like, twelve hours to plan this thing."
Gunner was well aware of the time. But the sooner they hit the base, the better chance Ansel and his sister had of making it out unharmed.
"Then let’s get busy." Win said it to Drew, but he was looking to Gunner. Wary.
"Wait." Drew remembered something. "How are we getting to our entry point at the visiting officers’ quarters?"
Gunner just grinned. “I’m glad you asked.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
The lights in his cell were fluorescent with that soul sucking glow. But since he had been 'enhanced', Ansel was able to see the pulsing of light emanating from the bulb. Able to feel the electricity dancing across his skin.
It was so strange.
He walked to the bars of the cell window, his hand instinctively grabbing one inch above where the bar disappeared into the concrete below. He pulled, and the concrete turned to dust around the metal, but that was all Ansel could achieve. He could feel that the metal extended all the way down the wall, leaving him no chance of escape.
He looked outside as the sun rose behind the mountains to the east. Purples and oranges lit up the sky in those moments of suspended uncertainty between day and night.
Ansel laid on his bed, crossing his fingers over his stomach and waiting patiently for the soldiers who would escort him to breakfast. Where he would eat, and then be hauled off to the hospital for Doctor Rumsey to pump him full of someone else’s DNA.
So he would become someone else.
There wasn't much he could do about it. Not yet. Who knows, maybe when they injected him with Einstein's DNA, or the intelligence of someone like him, he could figure a way out of the brig. But in the meantime, he would be experimented on so Catherine wouldn't have to endure the same fate.
Doctor Rumsey had not come right out and said it, but the man implied that they were doing research on him before they started enhancing Catherine. They were closely related, after all, and would most likely respond similarly. The only complication was the baby. The doctor wanted to enhance his niece or nephew in utero.
Ansel slammed his fist against his bed, feeling the metal beneath his mattress dent. Giving him strength might have been a bad choice. Perhaps he should have let them inject him with more…What? Strength. Foreign DNA. What exactly did they call what was happening to him?
Modification. That's how he thought of it. Ansel 2.0 after updates. And what else would they do to him? Take his sperm to grow a better Frankenstein? After all, Ansel could only be modified from the original parts. But a fetus…A fetus could be grown to fulfill their every need.
So what would that make him? A father. He laughed. He'd never wanted kids. Didn't want to bring them into this fucked-up world. But then he had met Seneca, and he could imagine why a person would want to take the risk.
He closed his eyes, sad and angry that he would never have the choice to decide if he wanted a kid. Or, for that matter, to decide if he wanted Seneca. 'Perhaps I should pursue someone a bit more substantial.’ Or the chance to see if she wanted him.
Footsteps pulled him from his thoughts, and he covered his eyes with his forearm so the soldier would not glimpse his despair. He took several calming breaths, and then realized he was hearing more than two soldiers approaching his cell.
Instantly alert, Ansel peeked beneath his arm, thinking they must have added more soldiers to escort him since his enhancement. The metal slid back and Ansel watched as a pair of brown eyes came into view.
"Sergeant Babineaux, we need you to assume the position," the guy said. Ansel got on his knees and faced the wall. "Hands behind your head."
He complied, because what else could he do? Leave without his sister? General Hawkins had his nuts in a vise, and the son of a bitch knew it.
One guy grabbed Ansel's left arm and yanked it up, cuffing it. The right arm followed. Ansel turned his head and stared at a jittery kid with a gun. Great, that was all he needed, to be shot while complying fully with these assholes.
"Stand up," the guy who cuffed him said, before helping him to his feet. But rather than take him to breakfast as they usually did, the guy sat him on the edge of the bed. "We're clear."
Ansel waited, staring at the floor when a guy in blue scrubs walked in the room, complaining, "I can't draw his blood with his hands cuffed," in Gunner's voice.
He tried not to smile, looking bored as the jittery kid raised his weapon towards him.
"Why do you need more blood?" Ansel asked, playing along.
Gunner arranged syringes on a metal tray as if he knew what he was doing.
"We're testing your blood every three hours to see if certain amino acids are being rejected by your body. And, if so, at what rate they are deteriorating." It was complete bullshit, but it sounded good. "Mr. Babineaux." Gunner eyes spoke to his. "If you will just hold still, this will be over in—"
Gunner kicked the kid with the gun so hard, he could hear the guy's arm break in several different places. The soldier who had cuffed him was a little more competent, pulling out a metal baton. He attacked Ansel, who caught the baton in mid-swing, bending the carbon metal in the process.
Both shocked, they stared at the curved metal and then at each other.
"On your knees," Gunner ordered, now holding the jittery kid's gun.
The guy with brown eyes dropped the baton and fell to his knees, looking at Ansel when he asked, "What did they do to you?"
"I don't know." Ansel shook his head then looked at Gunner. "Where's Catherine?"
"They're getting her," Gunner assured him, both of them knowing who 'they' meant, Win and Drew.
The guy with the broken arm was groaning, endangering Gunner's mission. That was never a good idea, so Ansel said, "Shut up, or he will shoot you."
The jittery kid had enough sense to pipe down.
Gunner handed Ansel the gun, then went over to his many syringes. He lifted one of the smaller ones containing a clear liquid before returning to the kid with the shattered arm, saying, "This will help with the pain," before injecting him in the neck.
"Is this going to kill me?" the guy on his knees asked. The kid was brave; he would give him that. He just looked up at Gu
nner, wanting to know if he was about to die.
"Nope," Gunner reassured him, jabbing him in the neck with the needle. "But you will be out for a few hours."
The kid nodded, accepting his fate. His dark eyes rolled up in his head, and Ansel caught the guy before he hit his head on the concrete floor.
"About time you showed up," Ansel teased his closest friend. "How in the hell did you find me?"
Gunner chuckled, his icy eyes warming. "Seneca put her cell phone in the trunk of the car they took you in."
A slow grin spread across his face, warming his heart. "Did she?"
"A clever girl, your Seneca." Gunner raised a brow, and there was no sense in denying what his friend already knew.
"Well, she's not my Seneca yet," Ansel said. "But she sure as hell will be, when I get home."
Gunner smiled, cracking open the door and whispering, "Then let’s get you the fuck out of here."
"Right behind you, Captain," Ansel said, before walking out of his prison cell on his way to freedom.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Win was going to kill Gunner. He hated running, especially long runs like this one. Ten fucking miles.
"Come on, fat ass," Drew said, and if he wasn't so fucking tired, Win would have punched him. The guy was a goddamn gazelle. They had run nine miles, and Drew wasn't even winded.
"Fuck you," Win managed. Barely.
He was more of a weightlifting kind of guy, but the downside to muscle mass was that it was heavy. Difficulty swimming and running were the price he paid for strength.
Fortunately, in this particular instance, his aversion to cardio was helping their mission. He was now drenched in sweat, and who is gonna look twice at two guys out on a strenuous morning run? No one.
So here he was running a fucking marathon in the middle of the desert in nothing more than his boots, cover, and BDU's.
"There it is," Drew said, as a red brick building came into view.
Win wiped the sweat out of his eyes. "Roger that." Adrenaline was giving him a second wind.
They ran past cars and military personnel arriving for work. Hell, they even ran past another runner, but nobody gave them a second glance.
"You sure you wanna go first?"
"We need to know if they’re expecting us," Drew said, bouncing along. "And besides, I have to go first."
"Why?" They were a hundred yards out.
"Because ain't nobody gonna believe that you beat me," Drew grinned and then took off, sprinting the rest way to the isolation of the Visiting Officers quarters.
By the time Win caught up, Drew was already talking to the guard on duty.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but I don't have you on the list of visiting officers. I'll have to call-—"
One of the benefits of being big was that he intimidated people.
"What's the problem, Private?" Win demanded.
"I'm sorry, sir. But I don't have the Lieutenant on my list of visiting personnel."
"That's because we arrived last night on special detachment with a classified research team," Win said, adding, "The key word there, Private, being classified."
"If I could just see your identificat—"
“Do you carry identification when out doing physical training?” Win stared down at the kid, who was all of nineteen.
“Well, no sir,” the kid was stuttering. “But if I could just see—“
"How 'bout we just show you our dogtags, Private?" Drew pulled out the fake dogtags.
"Captain Jones," Win growled then pointed at Drew with his thumb. "Lieutenant Montgomery." He brushed past, daring the kid to stop him.
"Thank you, Private," Drew smiled, and then walked away as if trying to catch up to Win. "We better go through visiting quarters before heading to the barracks where they’re keeping Catherine."
"Agreed," Win said, and he could feel tension pulling at the muscles in his neck as they listened for the alarm. But the young private must have believed them, because no alarm came.
They walked through the visiting barracks, and out the far side where they were saluted by several enlisted soldiers who saw their fictitious ranks emblazoned on their covers. They kept walking toward the older buildings, and their increased isolation put them more at ease.
"Let's head to those empty barracks," Win whispered. "I wanna see how many guards are on duty before we go in and get Catherine."
"Roger that."
The abandoned building was not locked, because they were on an army base and there was nothing to steal. They slipped inside, and it took a moment for their eyes to adjust before they were able to look around the large room.
Rows of old metal bunks lined the walls minus their mattresses. The barracks was slightly dusty, but was obviously being well maintained. However, the one thing that was not cleaned regularly were the windows. A film of light brown dulled every pane, making it hard to look out.
But also, hard to look in.
With guns drawn, they proceeded to the back of the building which had showers, bathrooms, and several small offices. Once they cleared the building, Drew walked over to a broken window pane and stared outside.
"I'll go get her and bring her here."
"We'll both go," Win objected.
Drew laughed at him. "General Hawkins would not send a sweat-soaked man to go get Catherine Miller."
Win looked down at his shirt and then at Drew's. With the exception of a thin dark ring around the edge of his collar, the son of a bitch was already dry.
"Roger that," Win grumbled, knowing they didn't have time to wait for his shirt to dry.
"Back in two shakes of a dog’s leg." Drew grinned, and then walked toward the other building with a confident swagger that made him smile. But Win stopped smiling, when he saw two soldiers appear on the adjacent walkway.
The woman's head snapped around and she looked straight at Drew. "Morning, Lieutenant," the woman saluted.
"Sergeant," he thought he heard Drew say.
The two soldiers walked toward Drew, meeting him halfway to the barracks. "May I be of any assistance, Lieutenant?" the woman asked, smiling.
"No, thank you, Sergeant. Carry on." Drew tried to walk passed her, but the woman stopped him again.
"Are you quite sure I can't help you?" The woman pulled out a gun, and the man followed suit. "Sergeant Stockton."
Fuck! Win froze. How did they know?
The general must have put out a base-wide BOLO on them. All of them. And if that were the case, Gunner was in trouble too. Win peered through the window, trying to decide what to do.
"I don't know what the fuck you think you're doing, Sergeant," Drew said, trying to bluff his way out of the precarious situation.
The woman ignored him. But rather than escort Drew to the brig like he expected her to do, she walked toward the abandoned barracks Win was standing in.
"Who else is here?" she asked Drew, screwing on a silencer to her sidearm.
Win moved to the rooms in the back of the building, positioning himself in the most strategic location. The showers.
The man opened the door, and wisely stepped away from Drew as they walked into the empty barracks.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Sergeant." Drew shook his head. "And if you don't—"
"Shut up and get down on your knees," the woman ordered.
"I swear to God, you are going straight to the brig for this, Sergeant." Drew got down on his knees and the woman stood behind him, pointing the gun at his head.
"I know Sergeant Stockton is not alone," the woman said to the empty room. "Captain Holstad, Sergeant Caffrey…" She let that sink in. "I've been looking for you for quite some time, but you're not easy men to find."
"I don't know who you’re talking to, Sergeant," Drew chuckled, trying to convince her that he was alone. "I've never heard of a Captain Holstad, and…Who did you say again?"
She didn't buy it, and neither did the guy standing next to her. "Turn yourself in, and I'll put you in the
brig with Sergeant Babineaux. That’s why you came, after all. To rescue him?"
"Now, why in the hell would they turn themselves in?" Drew smirked at the woman, giving up all pretense. "I'm getting locked up either way, so there is absolutely no need for him to join me."
Fuck. Drew was right. Frustrated, Win's hand balled up into a fist, knowing that he would be forced to watch as Drew got hauled off to the brig.
"'Him'?" the woman smiled. "So, there's only one of them here?"
"Fuck you, lady," Drew stared at the far wall. "Just take me to the brig."
"Oh, I'm not taking you to the brig, Sergeant Stockton," the woman said to Drew, smiling. "I’ll have both of you or neither of you."
"What the hell does that mean?" Drew asked, as confused as Win was.
The woman scanned the dark room, saying, "I know you're here. And if you don't give yourself up in the next five seconds, I will kill Sergeant Stockton."
Win's heart stopped and Drew laughed, "You're not gonna shoot me on an army base."
"I'm going to kill you," she corrected Drew. "On an army base by order of the commanding officer, General Hawkins. One."
"You wouldn't dare," Drew growled.
"I would, and I will kill him. Let me guess, Sergeant Caffrey?" she said to the room. "Two."
"She’s bluffing, Winchester. Get the fuck out of here."
"Three." Was she? Drew couldn't see her cold eyes.
"Don't you do it, Caffrey! You're the only one who can do anything about this."
"Four." The woman looked in Win's direction as if she knew he was there.
"Don't, Win."
His heart was pounding. She was going to shoot Drew. He knew it.
Win stepped out and she looked him in the eye, cocking her head to one side and saying, "Five," before pulling the trigger.
Time stilled as Win watched Drew's body fall forward into a mist of his own blood, a dark hole where his forehead should be. Win lifted his head to meet her eyes and she smiled.
Smiled at him after killing Drew.
Win flew at her, covering the distance faster than she anticipated. He kicked the gun out of her hands, fully intent on killing her.
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