As he led Jenny back toward the front of the yard, the alarm bells began to ring in his head, his danger sense tingling hotly. He slowed his pace, listening for any sounds that would betray an unfriendly presence. Hearing none, the pair continued on while the hair on the back of his neck still bristled, remaining upright in silent warning.
“I thought you might show up here,” Ed said, suddenly appearing in the middle of the road, startling his two visitors.
“You don’t sound too happy to see us.” Aaron replied.
“On the contrary, I’m very glad to see you. It’s just that if you’re here, the situation must be worse than I thought.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” he said, bringing Jenny to stand next to him. “Ed, this is Dr. Jennifer Ryan. Jenny this is Ed O’Brian. You can trust him. He can help us.”
Ed extended his hand to Jenny. “Nice to meet you.”
With the pleasantries now over, the three moved toward the office. Ed pointed to the building, “There’s food and stuff inside. Help yourself.”
Jenny pointed at the rapidly expanding bloodstain on Aaron’s coat. “He needs a hospital. He’s been wounded.”
Once inside the warm and comfortable confines of his personal apartments, Ed looked at the puckered skin and torn flesh of the two wounds along Aaron’s ribcage and scowled.
“Nice work,” he said, retrieving a quart bottle of Glenlivet scotch from a side-board cabinet. He handed the 15-year old whiskey to his guest. “A little liquid anesthetic?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Aaron said as he pulled a long draw straight from the bottle. He stopped to breathe, then took a second, smaller swallow. “Thanks.”
Unrolling a white towel on the counter, Ed laid out the pieces of his first aid kit in neat rows. “A through-and-through, and not a small caliber either, looks like a 9 mill. Overall you were pretty lucky.” he said as he worked to staunch the bleeding.
Aaron winced as Ed pulled the black thread through his skin, then cut the last suture.
“I can’t believe I missed that back-up piece in his pocket,” Aaron groused, gritting his teeth in pain. “I must be getting senile.”
“Well, nobody’s perfect.” Ed observed as he exchanged the open bottle of scotch in Aaron’s hand for a crystal rocks glass. He filled it, and then sat on a small leather-covered bench near the center of the room.
Warming themselves by the fire, Aaron and Jenny took turns telling Ed everything that happened to them in the past 72 hours.
“Thanks.” Aaron said as he accepted a refill, grimacing in pain as he gingerly touched his bandaged wound.
Ed saw him wince and tossed a lopsided grin. “Suck it up, It’s only 10 stitches,” he said, passing off the injury with a dismissing wave of his hand. “We did worst than that at BUD/s…to each other.”
“What’s Buds?” Jenny asked, sitting on the small leather covered couch across the room, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. “Some kind of drinking game?”
“It’s a club we belong to, kind of like a fraternity.” Ed answered.
Aaron smiled to himself at the memories Ed’s left-handed comment evoked.
With a drop-out rate of close to 90 percent, BUD/s or Basic Underwater Demolition/SEALs training, is the human crucible where the Navy forged the soft coal of raw recruits. Those that survived the twenty-four week course became diamond-hard, the inhuman trials driving self-doubt and fear from their minds and bodies.
Men who endured BUD/s together, men like Aaron Casey and Ed O’Brian, were more than fellow naval officers, they were brothers, bonded to each other for life…or death.
Downing the contents of his own glass, Ed cleared his throat and fixed his gaze on his friend. “Well, you really stepped in it this time, pal.”
The two long-time friends discussed detailed options about what to do next, while Jenny sat by the fireplace sipping tea, listening intently, occasionally asking a question or offering a suggestion.
After an hour, Ed stretched his legs toward the fire. “You also need to know that the Fed, Raven, she’s convinced your friend here plotted to steal the battery project and sell it.”
Aaron rolled his eyes at Ed’s revelation and downed the rest of his drink, the amber liquid stinging his throat and invigorating him at the same time. “I got that impression when I spoke to her before. Just great!”
Ed turned to him and shrugged his shoulders. “I tried to get her to consider other options but she wouldn’t budge,” he took a swig from his glass and thought aloud. “Nice ass…and great tits…but stubborn as a rock.”
Aaron raised a disapproving eyebrow at Ed’s lascivious comment before he glanced across the room and noticed Jenny was now fast asleep on the couch. “Sshhh,” he said, finger to his lips. “Quiet. She needs to rest.”
Lowering his voice, Aaron continued. “I know all about Raven. I met her before those two put the bag on me. She seemed to be a professional,” he grinned at his friend. “Even if she is a rock.”
The pair made their way across the room and sat in two leather recliners, their faces glowing red with the reflected flames of the fireplace. Aaron sipped his drink, then spoke. “I don’t understand why Raven won’t listen to reason. She must have seen the surveillance footage by now,” he said. “She must know Jenny’s a victim, not a suspect.”
Ed poured another large measure of Scotch into his glass and held out the bottle toward his friend. “Jesus Christ! Aaron,” he said, shooting back a sizable belt from his drink and trying to keep his voice down. “First the FBI and that Army prick, now some kind of hired mercenary, you two walked into a real shit-storm. There are a lot of people who would kill for this kind of technology.”
“You and I know that,” Aaron said, cocking his thumb toward the couch and its sleeping occupant. “But, she has no clue what these kind of people are really capable of. She thinks we can ‘all just get along’.”
The two glanced at Jenny’s blanket-covered form and Aaron unconsciously grinned at the sound of her gentle snoring as it floated across the room.
Ed took another belt of whiskey then held the glass up, carefully studying the firelight refracted through the eighty-proof liquid’s amber body. “All right Aaron, I have to ask you something but I don’t want to get my nose broken for doing it.”
Aaron raised an eyebrow at Ed’s lead-in. “What?”
“How far into this girl are you?”
Aaron cast an unreadable look at his friend. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. How far into this girl are you? What does she mean to you?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m just trying to help her.”
“Really. That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“That’s not what I see. I see you going to a lot of trouble for someone who’s supposedly a random stranger.”
Aaron gave a small chuckle. “You’re vision never was any good.”
“Bullshit! I’ve known you most of your life and I can see your feelings for this girl are more than you’re telling me.”
“So, now you’re clairvoyant?”
“No, and here’s where the broken nose comes in; When you look at her, I recognize that look. I’ve seen it before.”
“Really. When?”
Aaron thought about the comment for a split-second before turning back to his friend, understanding showing in his blazing eyes. “Don’t even go there.”
“I have to. It was when you looked at Heather.”
“Fuck you!” he glared at his friend. “I can’t believe you would say that. I can’t believe you would even think it. You of all people!”
“I’m sorry. But you have to admit you haven’t exactly been the picture of mental health lately.”
“I’m fine.”
Ed cocked an eyebrow. “Still having the nightmares?”
Aaron didn’t answer. The silence providing all the response the other man needed, he pressed on. “Still drinking more than three n
ights a week?
“So, what if I am?”
Ed looked his friend in the eye. “I rest my case.”
Aaron took another deep swig of his drink. “Bite me.”
“Screw the broken nose. You need to hear this…You’re hiding.”
Aaron’s eyes locked on Ed’s, the gaze punishing in its intensity. “Are you nuts?”
“No. You were the smartest, strongest, most emotionally together man I’d ever met. You had your shit in one sock. Now you spend your days buried in work and your nights drinking alone so you don’t have to face reality.”
Aaron’s face flushed a bright red. “You think I don’t face reality?”
He jumped to his feet then began pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. “How much more reality am I supposed to face?” he said, the words now coming in a staccato burst. “Dad’s gone and Mom’s a basket-case. Beth’s trying to cope with life in the dark…and Heather’s… Heather’s…”
Ed spoke softly. “You can say it. Heather’s…dead.”
Aaron’s hand tightened around his glass, fingers turning white with tension. Ed feared the tumbler might explode from the pressure.
Aaron drew a long breath and held it for several seconds before releasing it in stages, his anger visibly deflating before his friend’s eyes.
“Yes. Heather’s dead. Is that what you wanted to hear? She’s dead and it’s my fault.”
“No. It wasn’t. It was a stupid kid’s fault.”
Silence filled the dark room for a moment before Ed continued. “What could have you done to prevent it?”
Aaron glared at him in forced silence.
“You have to stop blaming yourself. It’s killing you.”
“What are you now, my shrink?” Aaron barked, then slammed another shot of whiskey.
“No. I’m just a guy who knows you, probably better than anyone else.”
“You don’t know shit.” He said acidly.
“I think you’re attracted to this doctor, or at least you want to be, and that makes you feel like you’re betraying Heather.”
“Enough!” Aaron snapped, turning his back on his friend.
“Admit it. You like her,” Ed challenged. “Hell, I’ve known her for all of five minutes and I like her. She’s pretty, she’s smart. She’s a PhD. for cryin’ out loud, what’s not to like?”
“You’re determined to get that broken nose, aren’t you?”
“You know I’m right.”
“I said that’s enough, please.”
“You know what I think?”
“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me…whether I want to hear it or not.” he said.
“Heather loved you. I think she’d be pretty pissed if she saw how you’ve been acting. Do you think she’d be happy to know that you’d buried yourself along with her?”
A thick silence permeated the room for almost a full minute before either man spoke.
“Look Aaron, I was there…standing right next to you...at the funeral. When they lowered her into the ground I saw you climb in with her. I feel like I lost two people that day.”
“Just stop!” Aaron said, his ragged voice filling the room. “Everybody tells you to ‘get on with your life’. Well, it’s just not that simple.”
“I never said it was simple, but it is necessary.”
“Can we just stay focused on the immediate problem, please?” Aaron said, indicating the sleeping doctor with a nod of his head. “We have to get her someplace safe.”
Having said his piece and mercifully spared his proboscis, Ed upended his glass and poured his fourth. “She needs us. That much is clear. Problem with this mission bro, is that you two aren’t any safer here than you are out there. That Fed is smart. She didn’t come here by accident and if she can find you, those goons can too. You can bet on it.”
Absently swirling his fifth drink in small revolutions, Aaron watched the liquor circle the glass, contemplating their situation for long moments.
“Christ Aaron, why does this shit always happen to you?” Ed asked rhetorically.
“Just lucky I guess,” he flipped his head back and emptied his drink again. He reached out his glass toward Ed. “Hit me.”
Ed gave him a questioning stare.
He repeated his demand. “Hit me.”
“Okay. I ain’t your Papa.” Ed filled the glass.
Aaron watched the sun climb over the horizon as he stared out the window into the wrecking yard beyond. For more than an hour he’d admired the sharply contrasting beauty of the sun’s reflection off the snow-covered, rusting hulks on the other side of the glass.
After prowling the floor at Ed’s for the remainder of his sleepless night, Aaron scratched his unshaven face and poured his third cup of coffee. He crossed the room and rousted his friend, kicking the chair Ed slept in. The ex-sailor snapped awake and instantly alert, a menacing black automatic appeared, as if by magic, in his hand. “What’s up? We got company?”
With his head throbbing from blood loss and the over-indulgence in Glasgow’s finest, Aaron answered the other man. “No. We’re secure. But it’s time Jenny and I left. It’s too dangerous for us to be here.”
Ed rubbed his eyes. “Okay. I won’t ask where you’re headed, because we both know that Fed will probably be back and I can’t spill what I don’t know.”
“Thanks. We’re going to need a car.” Aaron said. “We can’t take that truck I ‘borrowed’. It’s full of bullet holes.”
Thinking for a moment, Ed smiled. “I think I can manage that.”
“And I need to raid your private armory.”
“Cool with me.” Ed said as he stood and stretched. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a set of keys, tossing then to Aaron. “You know where it is. Take what you need.”
After waking Jenny, Aaron waited for her to get into the shower before he went to finish packing a few last necessities.
Aaron gently tapped his fingertips along the tongue and groove paneling in Ed’s workshop, running his palms along the smooth, richly-oiled planks. He located the loose knot in the wall and removed it, revealing a keyhole underneath. He unlocked the hidden door and looked down a short flight of stone steps leading into the darkness.
Aaron descended the stairs and came to the armory’s steel security door. With the turn of the key, it opened silently on heavy, well-oiled hinges as he pushed it out of the way. He reached into the dark room and felt along the left side wall for the light switch. Finding it, he threw the room into bright illumination.
The stark concrete walls reflected the harsh fluorescent light. He took in the rows of firearms and various other weapons stored in racks and on shelves along all four walls. Stepping into the center of a gun freak’s wet dream, he pulled a G.I. rucksack of olive-drab canvas from the shelf to his right and began to make his selections.
He started with a pair of K-bar double-edged knives, one going into a sheath he strapped to his left forearm, the other on his right calf. Then he pulled a matched pair of Colt model 1911 45 cal. automatic pistols out of a wooden crate. Hefting one of the guns, he tested the action, feeling the reassuring weight in his hand before placing it inside the bag with its partner. Next on the list was a black Smith and Wesson 25 cal. automatic. For the good doctor, he mused. Extra ammunition and magazines for each completed the small arms acquisitions, then it was on to the heavy artillery.
He moved past the shelves to a row of free-standing gun racks and an 8mm Mauser bolt-action rifle with a long-range scope joined the handguns, making the ensemble complete.
That ought to do. He thought, flipping off the lights and ascending the stairs back to the workshop.
Half an hour later Aaron and Jenny were packed up and ready to leave. She hadn’t spoken to him since waking. However, he did notice she was no longer glaring daggers at him.
Aaron felt a small vibration come through the soles of his shoes, climbing his body as it gained in strength and intensity. Just when he thought he’d imagin
ed the sensation, Jenny looked at him with concern on her face. “What’s that?” she asked, as the feeling became a sound, the small rumble growing in volume.
He returned Jenny’s quizzical look when mechanical thunder began coming from outside the shop’s roll-up door. The automatic opener groaned in protest and the building shook with the increasing roar of an engine as the massive door to the bay retraced slowly, letting in a blast of frozen air.
With the din becoming deafening, Aaron’s eyes opened wide in surprise as Ed backed a giant SUV into the empty space. He let out a small chuckle when the massive tires and never-ending fenders came into view. When the cab windows appeared, Aaron cupped hands to his mouth and yelled up to driver’s seat. “Hey Ed, Mad Max called! He said he wants his truck back!”
Ed looked down at Aaron, smiled broadly and flipped him off.
Ed turned the key and the engine died instantly, the sudden silence almost a physical blow. He stuck his head out the window. “I think you’ll like this one.”
Opening the huge door, he jumped down and continued talking. “I nicknamed it The Warthog. It’s a 1966 International Travel-All,” he said. “She may not be pretty, but she has it where it counts. 550 horsepower big-block, 36-inch tires, two 40 gallon tanks, SatNav, the works.”
Following Ed to the front of the truck, Aaron took in the extra rows of headlights resting on stalks protruding from the front bumper. He also saw the bright yellow plow blade, 10 feet of solid steel, hanging from its hydraulic controls. He gave a low whistle of appreciation.
Ed continued his dissertation with the adoration of a proud parent, thumping his hand on the vehicle’s massive fender. “It’s the closest thing I have to an armored car right now. I built it to plow lanes for emergency vehicles. You’ll need it if you’re going where I think you’re going.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Aaron said with a sly grin.
“I thought so.”
Ed reached inside the cab and pulled a lever, lowering the plow to the floor with a loud, metallic clang. “Let’s get this off. It’ll just get in the way.”
Chain Reaction Power Failure Book I Page 27