He’s not even looking at them. “Jesus, Fuck, BROUSSARD! SHOOT THE FUCKING THINGS!”
I’m jumping to the side, dancing to the left and right, but they are so fast they are on my feet and starting to slither up my shins. I don’t know what to do. I’m swiping and jumping, swiping and jumping in a furious pace, when suddenly everything goes upside down, and I understand when I see Broussard’s feet beneath me that he’s thrown me over his shoulder. He’s walking towards the door, though, not running and the snakes are still slithering around the floor, his boots, up the back of his legs.
“RUN! Broussard! RUN!” But he’s doing nothing more than a fast walk.
“Calm down, Ryan. I’ve got you, just calm down.”
I hardly register his words. The snakes are up the backs of his thighs. I grab the service pistol at his hip and start firing into the writhing mass at his feet. Broussard drops me fast, I land hard on my butt, the clip empty, but the snakes are still there, larger now, as long as my leg. Before I can get up Broussard snatches the pistol from my hand and gets directly in my line of sight, grabbing both sides of my face to keep me immobile.
“The snakes, Broussard….” I feel the tears spilling down my cheeks. I’ve been poisoned and failed to protect Broussard. And now, now we were both certain to be dead or eaten alive by the ugly nasty snakes.
“LOOK. AT. ME. RYAN.”
His command stops my eyes from scanning the sides of the hallway looking for the snake threat that he turned his back on.
“The snakes are a hallucination. There are no snakes.”
It takes me a minute to understand what he’s saying. He repeats it. Takes my hand and helps me up. He moves out of my straight line of vision down the hallway, and there it is, the biggest snake I’ve ever seen in my life, coming straight for us.
I back up, but Broussard grabs my hand and holds me in place. The urge to run is overwhelming. My muscles quake in anticipation.
“...Broussard...Please…” I whisper.
He must understand my request, because he wraps his arm around my shoulder and leads me the opposite way down the hall, and out a door.
The light is gold-blue, letting me know it’s either sunset or sunrise. My heartbeat is erratic and pumping hard in my chest. I am panting, my throat raw, unable to focus on the figures around me. Broussard pushes me into sitting, and there is Hanzo.
He places a scratchy wool blanket around my shoulders and I clutch it to my chest.
He puts a pen light up to my eyes, which I quickly knock away. Hanzo’s eyes narrow in exasperation, and he turns to Broussard beside me. Broussard grabs my wrist and holds it to my side, so that the next time Hanzo lifts the light to my eyes, I am unable to knock it away.
Satisfied, he tucks the light in a pocket and starts probing my face with his hands. His thumb hits the tender spot high on my left cheekbone and I hiss in pain and pull backwards- directly against Broussard’s chest.He says, “Settle down, Ryan. The faster you cooperate, the faster this will be over with.”
His hands are on the outside of my upper arms.
“The snake, Hanzo. Check my leg. Check my leg. The snake bit me.” I’m speaking fast and panicked but I don’t care.
Hanzo has already moved on to fastening the blood pressure cuff to my arm. He’s ignoring me while methodically getting my vitals. I pull forward this time, but again Broussard has me and pulls me back against his chest, restraining me so Hanzo can complete his tests.
“Hanzo, please...Please just check.”
He looks down at my legs and then back up at me.
“Your clean, Ryan. No bite marks, You’re good.” His eyes trail over my shoulder.
“I’m going to give her a mild sedative, Chief; Her vitals are off the charts. Too much more and we’ll have a heart attack on our hands.” My whole body is tense, I start fighting Broussard’s hold. No way am I letting them shoot me with anything else. It’s such a short time to have been drugged twice and poisoned by a snake, it’s no wonder my vitals are off the charts- I’m a walking cocktail. I struggle while trying to explain to Hanzo, but my words are jumbled, not making sense even to my own ears. Broussard has me solidly immobilized.
Without preamble, Hanzo has the needle up to my bicep and the plunger down.
He steps back while Broussard loosens his grip. His mistake. I launch myself out of his arms, and knock Hanzo down with my forward momentum, my already sore shoulder painfully connecting with his chest. He sprawls in the dirt, but I don’t stop. Two long strides, three, when I am tripped up by my own feet and take a very ungraceful nosedive in the dirt, my palms, elbows and knees catching me painfully.
I roll off my stomach and stare up a moment into the dark blue sky, a few stars twinkling at me. My breathing is slowing down a bit. Broussard’s face breaks into my field of vision, but I can’t make out the details in shadow.
He questions, “You done?”
I take stock. While my stomach still feels in turmoil, my heartbeat is not bursting out of my chest any longer, and my arms and legs feel like lead weights instead of electrified coils.
I nod my head, and he holds his hand out to pull me up, but when I’m vertical my legs crumple beneath me. Broussard doesn’t hesitate to take all my weight and then sweep me up into his arms.
As he walks, I process what I am seeing and hearing now that the panic has worn off. Two men’s voices raised in argument, the tops of the plywood buildings that make up the FOB passing by in my field of vision.
“Good of you to call in the higher-ups on this one, Broussard; What’s your problem anyway, can’t let your cat out to play?”
I turn my head towards the taunter. Khaki pants, tucked into brown boots. Green shirt and a good enough looking face, I suppose. But I know immediately who this is by the weird accent tinting his words and the hate bubbles up in my gut.
Broussard must have felt the shift in my demeanor, because he turns and places me back on the seat of a golf cart, so my back is to this man. I hear T-Rex’s voice break in, “Shut the fuck up, Garner. Stay the fuck away from Ryan, and sure as fuck away from us. Next time we meet, I might not be so nice.”
I hear a scuffle, like a boot scraping dirt, but don’t turn around. Broussard is climbing into the driver’s seat of the cart. “Yo! T! Let’s go!”
As we drive, Hanzo is questioning where I hurt, how many times I’ve lost consciousness, asking about my hallucinations, all the while probing my head, my shoulder, rinsing the dirt from my hands and making me rotate my limbs in various exercises.
“Petty Officer Ryan, do you need to visit the medical tent?” He ends his line of query.
“Ugh. No.” I rub my forehead; my brain is trying to process, but it’s like I’m swimming in bowl of sticky syrup trying to add the facts ups.
I am Everly Ryan. Petty Officer, 2nd class, US Navy. Deployed to FOB in Syria. I was kidnapped and interrogated. I was hallucinating ugly, disgusting, snakes. I was hallucinating. I am hallucinating? Maybe I’m still back there. Tied to that chair giving up all the secrets of my life, my team, the military to the enemy….
“T-Rex. T-Rex! Tell me something true.”
“Shit Ry. You just got water boarded by the CIA- but I’m proud of you girl- still came out swinging. What you want me to say?”
He gives me a lopsided grin, and it’s one I know so well. I lean forward in my seat and grip his cheeks. It feels real.
He pats my hands awkwardly and I drop them back to my lap.
“You’re good Ry. Broussie here pulled some strings and got you out.”
I look at Broussard. He’s resolute, all business as he pulls in front of the guy’s clubhouse and comes around to pull me from my seat.
I’m shivering in the cold desert night air. Standing on my feet feels like I’m 90 years old with creaking bones. T- Rex holds the clubhouse door open, and I slowly climb the three steps to get up and through the threshold. I know Broussard is just behind me, ready to catch me should I fall. It’s annoying e
nough to have me pushing forward under my own steam.
The lights are low, there’s only Butters sitting in front of the flat screen, with Hanzo, T-Rex and Broussard coming in behind me.
Butters salutes me with an Xbox controller, “Yo! Ryan. Nice Shiner. You give them CIA boys hell?”
I just nod once and look for a soft spot to crash. The clubhouse is my nickname for the common space the boys are assigned with their individual “bunks” (cubicle like rooms) on two sides of the building.
Hanzo walks to his own bunk, complete with plywood door, with a smile and some medical advice of “get some rest and drink plenty of water.”
Broussard brushes past me with a gruff, “Follow me, we’ve got you set up in here, Ryan.”
Before I can follow though, T-Rex engulfs me in a bear hug that cuts off my air supply.
“Jesus, Fuck- T! Give her some fucking space!” This from an impatient Broussard waiting at a far cubby across the room.
I make my way over to him and peek in. It’s utilitarian, but I notice my foot locker and Red Sox hat occupying the space.
‘It’s yours Ryan. Right here with the team.”
I nod once and sit wearily down on the bunk closing my eyes.
“Thanks Chief.”
The door claps shut loudly. But I’m surprised when I hear the whisper of fabric as Broussard’s body moves towards to me. I open my eyes and tilt my head to look up at him.
He cups both his hands around my face.
“Listen Ryan. I’m the bunk next door. You need anything - you just say my name, and I’ll be here.”
I give him a circumspect nod in the affirmative. But he doesn’t move away immediately and keeps his warm palms cupping the sides of my face. His eyes are roving over me in inspection, and he pauses at my left cheek and runs his thumb across it.
“I’ll get you some ice.”
I break out into goose bumps. Whether it is from the caress or the thought of ice I don’t know.
His eyes continue to run down my body to my breasts and up to my shoulder that is throbbing painfully. He takes one step backwards, breaking the intimacy of the moment.
“Lots of ice...And something to eat and drink. Any special requests?”
I shake my head. Lifting my arms up to pull my sports bra over my head, Broussard spins quickly on his heel and bangs out the door.
I peel my panties and shorts down my legs together in one swoop. I feel immeasurably vulnerable standing there naked in a space that is not my own. I pull a fresh pair of my favorite boy short panties from my locker, as well as a black tank top that I quickly pull down over my chest.
I sit back down on the bed and take stock. I’m tired and dirty.
I climb beneath the covers, too exhausted to care about the dirt, to emotionally drained to care about what happened. I seek escape and sleep is it.
19
Broussard
Closing the door quickly on Ryan’s almost naked form, I take a deep breath. She’s ok. Safe. I travel over to our camp stove and food storage. Rummage through the panels and find a lasagna MRE. It’s the most comforting food I can seem to find. It’ll have to do. I leave it to heat up while I locate a snap cold pack and a couple bottles of water.
I gather up all the items and bring them back to Ryan’s bunk. Pushing open the door, I find her laid out, under the covers, eyes closed. Her cheek is bruising nicely, her lower lip on the right side swollen and her shoulder is turning a really nice shade of grape-like purple.
I place the items on the foot locker next to her head and shake her awake.
She reluctantly opens her eyes.
“Are you hungry, Ryan?”
She sits up and the blanket falls to her lap.
Her breasts are free and pressing against the confines of her tank top. Her nipples hard and noticeable. I look away and pull the fork from my pocket and hand her both the lasagna and fork.
She dutifully takes a couple bites, but when she spots the water bottle, she unscrews the lid and chugs damn near the whole thing.
Putting the empty bottle, the half-eaten lasagna on the locker next to her head, she lays back down without much of an acknowledgement to me.
I hand her the ice pack, but instead of putting it on her face, she places it on her shoulder. Guess I know what hurts the most.
“Thanks, Chief.” Her eyes close. And just like that I am dismissed.
I take the discarded dinner with me and shut the door behind me.
Hanzo is standing in the common area.
“She’ll be ok, Chief.”
“Yea, Hanzo. She’s good.”
He turns off the main lights, and now the space is dimly lit. I retire to my own bunk, pulling my belt off, the attached holster, and check my piece one last time. It’s empty. I’ll have to get more ammo tomorrow. Not sure if any repercussions will come from Ryan discharging all the rounds into the CIA’s floor.
As I lay down in my boxers and t-shirt, I let the weight of worry fall off me. I got Ryan back. She’s tucked safely next to me, our bunks aligned head to head, only thin plywood separating us. I take a deep breath. Yea. I got Ryan back, and the relief is so deep, I fall asleep the minute I shut my eyes.
20
Something has woken me. I lay for a minute in the darkness wondering what it could be. Then I hear it again. A strange clacking. Its different from the usual snores I hear when sharing space with the men. Different enough to have brought me out of a deep sleep. I strain to hear anything else. There it is again. What is it?
My brain finally connects the dots. It’s Ryan next door shivering. I get out of bed and grab the fleece pullover from my locker that I keep for cold nights.
Quietly easing into Ryan’s bunk, I lift a battery-operated lantern high with one hand and use my other to pull the ice pack from her shoulder.
She comes awake, and I signal for her to sit all the way up.
I pull the fleece over her head and tuck it down to her hips, ignoring the silkiness of her skin and the sexy tousled and sleepy look she is giving me. I’m seeing her now. I’m feeling her. And she is all warm woman.
I hastily pull up the blanket to her chin when she doesn’t do it fast enough.
I reach back for the lantern and her hand shoots out and stops me.
“Broussard, thank you.”
She closes her eyes and I am again dismissed.
This time when I hit my bunk again, the images of a sexy sleep tousled Ryan replays on the back of my eyelids, and soon I’m imagining a different scenario, where instead of covering her up, I’m uncovering her, palming her warm breasts, feeling that silky skin heat up with my lips.
I give a small groan at the erection now in my shorts. It’s not right, I know. But something about Ryan- I can’t figure it out- I just am attracted to it.
I roll over and punch my pillow beneath my head. I’ve been separated from Miranda for more than eight months and had not felt the tiniest twinge in my libido. Now, here in the middle of the night, in the middle of an FOB, Mr. Happy is waking up. And he’s taken notice of a leggy brunette under my command. Fuck.
It’s just that she’s forbidden fruit- being under my command. I feel extremely protective of her. And she’s hot dammit. Long lean legs, round breasts, and face to launch a thousand ships as they say.
I palm my erection one last time.
21
Ryan
I slowly peel my eyes open, and groan at the pain that shoots through my body when I try to roll over. I take stock after I’m on my side, and see the plain and rough plywood looks different from my normal plain rough plywood. I groggily stand up and contemplate the fleece I’m wearing. Dipping my nose into the collar, I inhale its scent- clean and masculine. I remember freezing last night, but unwilling to get up - then Broussard coming in and dropping his fleece over my head. I pull on my shorts and try not to backtrack too far down yesterday’s memories.
Pulling open the door, I’m greeted by the brightness of a new day. I wish
I could hit the dimmer switch because the light is piercing to my headache.
I don’t even acknowledge the two guys sitting on the couch- just shuffle over to the kitchen area and make myself a cup of coffee from the Keurig- funny the amenities we have out here.
I plunk my butt down in one of the rolling chairs that sits permanently in front of the Xbox and close my eyes, leaning my head back.
“All right, Ryan?” the voice comes just to the right of me. I think it’s Hanzo.
“...yeah. I’m fine.”
And I am. I take stock. Shut down the anger, the fear at being unable to control my situation.
Take a sip of this crap coffee- no cream or sugar. Even though I love a little vanilla flavored creamer and spoonful of sugar, I gave up those frou-frou girly amenities when I entered the military.
“Good. You can help me beat Hendricks here.”
An X-box control hits my arm and I grab it with one hand while leaning over to place my coffee cup on the floor with the other hand.
I don’t argue; just take my frustrations out on a little video game action.
It’s Call of Duty and I happen to play like a girl.
Broussard saves me from making a total fool of myself though, by coming in from outside twenyt minutes later. He interrupts our game by tapping me on the shoulder with a SAT phone.
“Ryan. Glad your up. The Admiral has been waiting to hear from you.”
I look up at Broussard while taking the phone in my hand. Broussard’s eyes are boring into mine with a look I can’t read.
“He said he’d only be satisfied when he heard from you directly.”
My stomach drops as I stand up and hand the controller back to Hanzo. I turn to Broussard fully while the guys go back to electronic numbness.
The Distance Between Dreams Page 7