The Omega Team_One Shot

by D. L. Jackson

  I reached up, cupped his face, and stared in his eyes. “We can’t keep doing this. We’re going to get caught.”

  He smiled. “I won’t get caught, and neither will you.”

  Chapter Eight

  Nolan held my hand while we snuck up the back stairs to the intensive care unit. He cracked the door and peeked out into the corridor. Visiting hours had ended hours before, but he didn’t care. Breaking the rules seemed second nature to him, and, for some reason, I no longer questioned his breaches in regulations.

  Not a good thing if I needed to keep my nose clean and stay out of trouble. Any publicity would be a bad thing. If the press found out I was in sniper school, they’d descend on the post in droves. My father had enough to worry about without defending what his daughter did.

  “Stay here.” He released me and pulled his wallet from his pocket. Nolan walked up to the nurse’s station and flipped his wallet open, showing her what I assumed was his military ID. I held my breath as the nurse eyed the card and called another of the staff over. The other nurse nodded and pointed down the hall. Nolan shut his wallet and pocketed it. He turned toward me and motioned for me to come forward.

  The nurses didn’t pay any attention to me as I walked up to the station.

  “Thanks,” Nolan said to the nurses and snagged my elbow, guiding me toward where the woman had pointed.

  “What did you tell them?”

  “That I’m from Command Investigations, here at the post commander’s request to collect a statement from the victim. She recommended I come back during visiting hours.

  “I told her I had a deadline to report first thing in the morning and had stopped by on my way back to post. Since the patient was awake, she made an exception, but warned me Smith might not be very cognizant.”

  I screwed up my face. It didn’t make sense. If I’d flashed my ID, they’d have turned me away. He wore civvies, wasn’t a first sergeant or commander, and yet, he still managed to get access to Smitty’s room. “You’re good.”

  “Special forces go deep ops all the time. You learn to be convincing when your life is on the line.”

  The door sat ajar. Nolan pushed it open and guided me inside, shutting it with a click behind us.

  Smitty looked up and smiled. Dark circles had already formed under her eyes, and her leg hung suspended in a sling over the bed. “They put screws in it.” Her voice slurred. “Can’t sleep.”

  Perhaps it would be better to come back. I tugged Nolan toward the door. “We should probably let you—”

  “No. Stay. Please.” She motioned weakly to a chair beside the bed. “I need a distraction. It feels like I got fire ants gnawing the marrow in my bones. I’m allergic to most pain medications, and what they gave me is equal in strength to your over-the-counter painkillers.” She sucked in a breath. “Not working very well.”

  “We can’t stay long. We’re not even supposed to be here.”

  I moved to the chair beside the bed and sank into it. “Your leg going to be okay?”

  “Should be. I don’t know if I’ll get discharged for it, though. They’re placing me on medical profile. I’ll stay with the unit, for now, and continue what training I can until the Army makes a decision about my future.”

  I nodded. I knew this was her dream as much as mine. In seconds, her future had been destroyed. I might not be able to make the situation any better, but I could be there for her, a shoulder to lean on. If it were me in the bed, I’d want her here for support.

  Nolan stepped up beside me. “Did you get a look at the driver or vehicle?”

  Smitty eyed him suspiciously. “I thought you were done with him.”

  “I needed his help to get here.”

  She glanced from him to me and back to him. “Too dark, and I didn’t think about looking at his license plate. I was too busy bouncing off the hood of his vehicle and breaking my leg. Maybe you should check my ass. Might have an image of the plate imbedded in my skin.”

  “So, he— A man?”

  Smitty frowned. “Don’t know. It happened so fast.”

  “You said he.”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t think I’d be alive if a woman hit me. We tend to finish the job.”

  Nolan shook his head. “So, you feel whoever did this, did it intentionally?”

  “What’s with all the questions? I really wasn’t contemplating the driver’s motivation. Do you mind? I need to speak to Davis”—she narrowed her eyes on Nolan—“alone.”

  He nodded. “I’ll leave you two for a minute. Don’t be too long. We need to get back to post.” He glanced at his watch. “O-four-hundred. We’ve got reveille in an hour.”

  He shut the door behind him. As soon as it closed, Smitty jumped all over me.

  “What the hell are you thinking? You’re in public—with him? Have you lost your fucking mind?”

  I snapped around. “He brought me here because I needed to know you were okay. Don’t be like this. He’s trying to help.”

  “I don’t trust him. I don’t think he’s who he says he is. The FBI still hasn’t found who was threatening to kill you.”

  “Keep your voice down, Smitt. Nolan doesn’t know who I am, or what’s going on.”

  “Are you sure? He seems way too interested for his own good.”

  I sighed. “There are other motivations.”

  Smitty held her hand up. “All I’m saying is you told me someone threatened to kill you if your father didn’t bend to their demands.” She reached up and rubbed a bandage-wrapped lump on her forehead.

  “That was four years ago.”

  “Maybe you still have a target on your back. You and I know it was no accident. The driver didn’t hit the brakes.”

  Yeah. I hadn’t seen skid marks, confirming what she said. Perhaps they still targeted me, but wouldn’t my father have said something? I’d covered my tracks, been careful. I leaned closer. “I suspected as much when I checked the pavement, but it doesn’t make me the target. Most likely a drunk soldier. We shouldn’t jump to con—”

  She put her hand in the air to stop me again. “I think it’s time you come clean to the commander and first sergeant about who you are.”

  “You know if I do, they’ll have me on the first plane home.”

  “Is it worth your life?”

  “Yes.” I wouldn’t back down. I’d dreamed about becoming a sniper for years. My father’s political agenda would not run my life, and he wouldn’t want it to. She’d jumped to conclusions. Nobody hunted me anymore. I’d joined the Army and vanished. I doubted they even knew where I was.

  “I can see you’re not going to listen.”

  I gave her a smile. “I listen to every word you say, Smitty, but you know I’m going to do what I’m going to do, regardless.”

  She smiled back. “So, has he got a big—?”

  “Don’t go there.” I laughed. “None of your business.” Smitty may have been down, but she hadn’t lost her dirty mind.

  “You’d better head out. Get some rest. You got to hold the fort while I’m gone.”

  Chapter Nine

  Two weeks passed, and I began to think the accident had been nothing more than an accident—a drunk soldier who didn’t want to face the music. They’d discharged Smitty from the hospital after four days.

  She’d stayed on bed rest for the first week, but now hobbled around on crutches. The first sergeant and commander found things for her to do around the office, paperwork mostly, and she worked in the arms room at other times. Today, she sat on CQ duty, her foot propped up on a desk, clipboard in hand, signing out weapons for our trip to the range. Her leg seemed to be doing well, and they’d not dropped her from the program yet.

  “Have fun,” she said as she checked off next to my name. Everyone had a weapon assigned to them. The process for picking up your weapon was simple. You were assigned a specific serial number. Checked it out before you loaded up and checked the same weapon in when you came back. If anyone lost a weapon i
n the field, the entire post would shut down until it could be found. No soldier wanted to be the one responsible, so we never let our weapon out of our sight.

  “Yeah.” I blew a breath out and eyed the downpour through the door as one of my squad members left. “Fun.” The skies had opened up two days ago, and someone upstairs had forgotten to shut off the faucet. Not my idea of a good time. I eyed Smitty, reclining comfortably at the desk. “You suck. Hell of a way to get out of training today.”

  She smiled. “If it’s any consolation, I’ll be with you in spirit.” She hit a remote and turned on a small television in the corner, flicking through the channels until she landed on one of those chick stations, where the mother of a murdered daughter hunted the killer, not knowing her current and fifth husband was actually the one who did it. Smitty reached into the desk and pulled out a chocolate bar.

  “Bitch.” I glared at her treat.

  “Um, hmm,” she muttered, already engrossed, and waved me off as an actress made her way upstairs while creepy music played.

  I turned, slipped my weapon under my poncho, and exited the arms room. My boots and pants were instantly soaked. Rain splattered my face, dripping from my chin and nose, making me wonder if it would ever let up.

  “Load up,” the first sergeant barked next to an idling troop transport truck. The doors were pulled open, and soldiers climbed up and took a seat on the benches on either side. As I moved through the back, I noticed a couple of grunts were already asleep. I made my way to an empty spot and plunked my ass down, only to notice I’d sat next to Nolan. He wore a boonie hat, unlike my Kevlar helmet, and had Army-issue camo paint on his face. And damn if he didn’t rock the look, both sexy and dangerous. I caught myself staring and quickly turned away.

  “Good morning, Sergeant Davis.”

  “Good morning,” I mumbled as the canvas dropped and any illumination from the streetlights outside disappeared. I squirmed in my seat. I didn’t trust him not to take advantage of the dark. If I knew one thing about Stone, he wouldn’t let an opportunity slip by.

  Sure enough, a hand crept to my thigh. I sucked in a breath, clamped onto his wrist, and moved it off. With a nervous glance around the back of the truck, I hoped nobody caught his pass. I let out my breath. Barely able to make out one face from another, I knew my secret remained safe.

  Most of the soldiers were well on their way to a catnap. I let go of his hand, and it landed back on my leg, higher up this time.

  “Not going to nap?” I turned toward him and saw nothing but teeth, his camo paint doing the trick. I rose to my feet, intending to sit in another spot. He pulled me back down as the truck lurched and started on its way. It would take at least twenty minutes from our current locale to reach the range, and I’d managed to pick the one spot next to a human octopus.

  He didn’t have a weapon. The instructors were going to be our spotters today. I closed my eyes and prayed I wouldn’t draw Stone as my partner.

  As if knowing what I had just crossed my mind, Nolan spoke up. “I’m your spotter for this mission.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Nice language, Sergeant. You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

  “I kiss a lot of things with this mouth. You don’t like it, you don’t have to listen,” I replied softly, to keep it between us. No need in drawing attention where we didn’t need it.

  He leaned in and pressed his lips against my ear. “I got something for you to kiss.”

  Heat rushed from my center of my pelvis to the tips of my fingers and toes. How would I survive all day alone with him?

  He sat back, acting as though nothing had passed between us a moment before. My grip on my weapon tightened, and my heart threatened to break a few ribs. Oh hell.

  ***

  As we pulled up to the range, the rain hadn’t let up. Puddles covered the ground. “Leave your MOLLEs in the back,” the first sergeant barked.

  I climbed from the five ton and let my gaze take in the muddy mess.

  We’d already zeroed our weapons, but now they wanted to see how well we applied our lessons on Kentucky windage and adjusting the scope to hit a target in adverse conditions. Good chance we’d be in the prone position for most of the morning. I knew war didn’t wait for sunny days, but this seemed a little over the top. We hadn’t had this much rain since we’d arrived. I pulled the hood on my poncho up and over my Kevlar helmet. Nolan came from behind me and tugged it down.

  “Not scared of a little water, are you, Sergeant?”

  “Won’t melt, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Good, ’cause this is only the first part of the exercise.” He plucked my sleeve. “Come on, we’re over here.” He started down the range, whistling as he went.

  I sighed and followed, keeping my weapon pointed downrange, the bolt in my pocket. “Did you just say the first part of the exercise?”

  He turned and smiled.

  Four hours later, we were back in the five ton, soaking wet and muddy. My fingertips were blue, and I couldn’t stop shivering. Nolan had said we had more training after we qualified on the range. I’d wanted this, so I wouldn’t complain, but in my head, I bitched about it. I wanted to go to my nice warm room, throw on a sweatshirt and pants, soft, fuzzy socks, and nursed a beer, all while listening to music and reading a steamy romance. Comfort stuff.

  “Listen up,” one of the instructors spoke. He waited for all heads to turn in his direction before speaking again. “This next exercise is to evaluate how much you think you know about being a sniper. Each team will have the coordinates to a specified target. You will hump five to ten clicks to your target, depending on the assignment you draw, neutralize the target, and return to the LZ for extraction at oh-five-hundred hours.” He paused to make sure everyone heard.

  This meant not just a day, but the night, too. So much for cozy comforts and naughty books. I turned toward Nolan and mouthed the words, “All night?” He gave me a slight nod in response, and I sat back, blowing out a breath. Even worse than I’d initially thought.

  “Each target is live, ladies and gentlemen. A company of grunts from the 2-26th are out there, dressed as enemy soldiers and on the move. They’re fast. They’re smart, and they’re not going to stand still for you. You will get one chance to take out their squad leader, the designated target. One shot.”

  He lifted his sniper rifle. “I’m sure you’re all familiar with this.” He pointed at the Multiple Integrated Laser Engagement System on the weapon. “But I’ll go over it in case you aren’t. Each of your SWS, sniper weapons systems, are fitted with MILES. When you hit your target, a device will sound an alarm on one of the boxes your target is wearing. Data can then be retrieved to determine if you made a kill shot. Your target will only be at the coordinates for a limited time. Get in, identify your target by rank, uniform, and actions, make the hit, and get out.”

  He lifted his watch and pressed a button to illuminate the face. “It’s twelve hundred hours now. If you are not at the LZ by oh-five-hundred hours, the bird will leave you, and you’ll have to hump your way out of the field—full MOLLE. That’s twenty clicks, and not the way you want to spend your weekend. Understood?”

  “Hu-ah,” the group shouted out in unison.

  “Oh, and one other thing. This exercise is about evading. Once you neutralize your target, the rest of the enemy soldiers are under orders to capture you. They have vehicles and night vision goggles. They know this terrain better than you do. Don’t get captured. You’ll wish you were humping the twenty clicks.”

  No way in hell did I want to hump twenty clicks to post with a full MOLLE, and I definitely didn’t have any intention of getting captured. Nolan better be all business.

  Fifteen minutes later, the brakes squawked as the truck came to a stop. The first sergeant threw the flap open. “Let’s go. Move it. Move it. We don’t have all day.” Everyone scrambled to their feet and jumped from the back. Game time.

  ***

  Spring in New England
is about one thing. I discovered what, firsthand, tromping across the soggy soil in late May. Mud had a way of extending the distance when you traveled on foot. For every step I took, I felt like I’d taken three, and, twenty minutes in, I wanted to take a break, except I didn’t have the luxury of time.

  I’d tightened the strap to my MOLLE around my waist, so the bulk of the weight rested on my hips instead of my shoulders. Nature had determined long ago women should carry our loads, i.e. babies, on our hips and not our shoulders like the male soldiers. Men had the big shoulders—women the big…. Well nature’s idea—not mine. It was easier to work with my genetics than to try and manhandle the weight. Didn’t make the load any lighter, but without doing it, I’d have dropped two clicks back. My MOLLE weighed a good seventy pounds, full of all kinds of shit I really didn’t need for the mission, but the government had determined I’d take with me.

  “We’ll cache our packs here.” Nolan unbuckled and shrugged out of his MOLLE. Once I dropped my pack, he opened it and pulled out my PT sneakers, tossing them to me. Sometime in the last twenty-four hours since I’d worn them, he’d sprayed them with black paint, hiding the reflective logos on the sides.

  “Excuse me. Those are my shoes. I shot him a dirty look he completely missed—or ignored. I’d paid good money for the logo he’d blacked out. I didn’t bother to ask how he’d gotten them. I already knew.

  He tugged out a pair of his sneakers and took his boots off, stuffing them in a smaller day pack about the size of a child’s backpack, to take with us. “Put them on. They’ll leave less of a trail. The soles round out the prints, treads don’t go as deep, and they’re less distinctive. We’ll still do some backward walking and tricks to throw them off our trail, but this will help, especially with how damp the ground is.”

  I nodded and did as he told me, cramming my boots into my daypack when done.

  Once we’d changed, he collected several branches and an armful of leaves, covering his gear. I moved my MOLLE next to his and did the same. Once I’d hidden my gear well, I stood up and rolled my shoulders. Nolan came up behind me and rubbed the back of my neck, working the knots free.