BlackSmoke

by Robin Leigh Miller

  It didn’t take her long. The woman was hiding behind the biggest tree in the area. Sam walked to where she had stashed her bag, retrieved it and made her way to the woman. As she neared, the woman stiffened and held her breath.

  “It’s over. The police are on their way.” She said as she pulled a jacket from her bag.

  “You’ll have to wait until they get here. You need to be on the premises when they arrive.” Sam made a quick survey of the woman’s wounds. Nothing serious. A knife slash where they cut her bra and some bruising.

  The woman shook her head as she stared at Sam. “Thank you. I thought I was going to die tonight.”

  “I know. We’ll wait here until we hear sirens, then you can walk back to the cabin.”

  “Are they dead?” She asked with a shaky voice.

  “No, just sleeping.” Sam replied. “Listen, I know you’ve had a traumatic experience, but you have to look at this with a positive attitude.” The woman’s eyes reflected her confusion at Sam’s words. “You were lucky. There were at least two other women that weren’t. Your bruising, your cuts, they’ll all heal. It’s up you whether or not your mind heals. If you let this affect you, affect the way you live your life, then they have won. Be strong. When it comes time for a trial, stand up and tell people what sick, twisted, little cowards they are. Tell them how they dealt with someone weaker than they are. Show them that you’re a survivor.”

  Understanding grew within the woman’s eyes. Even as her body shook from her trauma, her chin jutted out. “I will.”

  Sam wrapped her arm around her and the woman lay her head on Sam’s shoulder. A prayer was sent to give the woman strength to overcome her ordeal and defeat the personal demons that were sure to haunt her.

  It was eleven o’clock when Sam finally reached the waiting helicopter that would take her home. She crawled inside, mask in place and relaxed for the first time in what seemed like hours. She watched as the ground grew further and further away from her and when she felt satisfied that she was on her way, she closed her eyes.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  No need for thanks Samantha. You did well. Rest now. You will need it.

  Sam grunted. What was that supposed to mean? she thought to herself. When no answer came she drifted off into a light sleep. It always amazed her that she could sleep so soon after a mission was completed, but then she was sure she had help.

  She found herself back in the pretty little bedroom. The tinkling of the wind chimes made her feel warm and cozy. Then the shouting started again, her mother’s scream, her father’s pleas.

  Sam reached for her knife but it wasn’t there. She looked down at herself and saw she was wearing a pink, frilly nightgown. She ran for the door but the room started spinning. The nausea welled up inside her. She opened her mouth to scream, but just like the last time, nothing would come.

  No, she thought to herself, not again. I won’t lose them again. But try as she might she couldn’t make it to the door. Without warning her door burst open. A man dressed in blue jeans and a button up shirt stood in front of her. She watched as he reached out for her, her eyes drawn to a symbol on his hand.

  She felt his hand reach into her hair and pull hard. His mouth was moving but she couldn’t hear any words. He tied her to a chair, smiled at her, then headed for the door. Sam could see across the hall into her parents’ bedroom. Her father was tied to a chair. Her mother lay naked on their bed. Two men stood over her arguing. She could still hear her father begging them to leave his family alone, but her mother lay still and quiet.

  Her bedroom door slammed shut leaving her all alone and scared. She could hear herself praying for help, praying for her parents. Then she heard it for the first time, the whisper inside her head. It told her how to move her hands to get them free from the bindings. She heard it tell her how to get out of the house. Use the window, slide down the spouting. She found herself obeying every word.

  Then the gunshot came. Her blood turned to ice as she screamed and fell. The sickening crunch of the bones snapping in her ankles echoed in her ears. Pain jolted through her legs making it impossible for her to walk, so she crawled through the yard. She knew they were coming. She could sense it. Her skin prickled and her stomach clenched. Then he was there, standing over her. He said something into a walkie-talkie, his voice sounding like an old forty-five record put on slow speed. She tried to crawl away, her fingers digging into the earth, pulling her wounded body across the grass, but she felt a sharp pain in her back, then came another gunshot.

  Sam sat straight up, sweat running down her face. Her heart thundered in her ears. As she looked around she saw the helicopter was making its landing. A dream, she thought to herself, just a dream.

  Chapter Two

  Sam glanced at the helicopter pilot. To her relief he didn’t seem to notice her distress. When they landed she turned toward him and nodded her thanks. He nodded back as she jumped from the helicopter. Once she was clear, he took off again. Her uncle’s private airfield and training ground was deserted for the night, leaving Sam in solitude. Sam made her way to her sixty-six Ford Mustang, tossed her bag into the backseat, removed her mask and settled behind the wheel. A few deep breaths had her mind clear of her nightmare and ready to go.

  A smile spread across her face as her hands wrapped around the steering wheel. She loved this car, loved its simplicity, loved the time it came from. She had taken great care in picking out the perfect red for it, nothing tending to orange or maroon. Red Blaze. That’s what the color was called and it fit her perfectly. She smiled when she turned over the ignition and the car purred to life. Yes, she loved this car.

  As she cruised away from the training grounds the cool night air blew through her pixie cut hair. She wondered if her Uncle Walt would be waiting for her. Of course he would, she thought to herself, he always did. Her Uncle Walt was the only family she had left. He’d raised her after her parents’ murder. Treated her like his own daughter, attended all the parent teacher conferences, all the school events and even helped her pick out her senior prom gown. He was everything to her and she to him.

  She wasn’t surprised to see the light on when she pulled in front of the two storey brick building he used as his office. But she smiled and felt warm inside anyway. It was always nice to have someone waiting for you when you returned.

  With enthusiasm Sam jumped from her car and walked eagerly toward the front door. To anyone else this building would look like an everyday office building. Only a select few knew what really went on behind the doors.

  Sam punched her security code into the keypad by the door then waited as the three locks released. Once inside she reset the alarm and jogged up the steps to the second floor where her uncle’s office was.

  The door was open so she stood in the doorway drinking in the sight of her uncle with his nose buried in paperwork. He was a handsome man with black hair like hers, only his had gray peppering the sides. He still had his chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, and muscular arms. He was quite an attractive specimen for a fifty-five-year-old man.

  It was a shame he had never married. He would have made a great husband and father she thought.

  Sometimes Sam felt guilty. Maybe if he hadn’t been raising her it would have been easier for him to find a wife. Not many women would want to take on a soldier with a child, she reasoned.

  He made the right choice. Things work out the way they are meant to, her whisper told her.

  Still, Sam would always feel a twinge of guilt for her intrusion into his life.

  “Are you going to stand in that doorway all night or are you going to come and give me a hug?” he said quietly without looking up at her.

  Without hesitation Sam walked to her uncle’s desk. “How did you know I was standing there?” She asked.

  “After all these years I know when you’re around. I may not always be able to see you but I can feel you.” He said as he stood and held out his arms. A warm smile spread across his face.<
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  Sam stepped into his loving embrace. She’d always felt love and comfort when he held her, just the way she’d felt when her father would hold her when she was small. Walter Cannon had made up for her father’s absence in so many ways and for that she would walk into hell for him.

  “I take it everything went well tonight?” He asked then placed a kiss on the top of her head.

  “Intelligence neglected to tell me there were three men involved.” She replied sharply.

  “So I heard. Chief Zimmerman called and said one of the men had a tranq dart in an, um uncomfortable area.”

  “He’ll think twice about harming another woman,” Sam hissed through her teeth.

  Walt chuckled then kissed her on top of the head again. “Sit. We have things to talk about.”

  Sam sat in the chair across from his desk, her eyes glancing at the photo her uncle kept on the table behind his desk. It was her favorite picture of her mother and father in a playful hug. Walt had always kept their memory alive in her heart.

  “Did your guide help you tonight?” he asked in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “Absolutely, in more ways than one.”

  “Oh, something I should know?” His eyebrows arched in a concerned manner.

  “Nothing serious.” Because she could always tell him anything she told him of her two dreams. As a child she was often plagued with the same nightmare. Walt had taken her to several doctors in the hope of ridding her of the nightly trauma. No matter how much she talked about them, they still crept into her sleep. With the onset of her teenage years they became less frequent. Once she had started her career the nightly horrors stopped altogether. Now they were back and she couldn’t help wonder if it meant something. Was it possible her guides were sending the dreams to her, a warning of some type? She could ask but knew she wouldn’t receive an answer. Some things a person needed to find out on their own.

  “Do you need to take some time off? You’ve been working steadily for the last six months. Maybe you need a vacation.” He didn’t like the fact that her dreams were returning any more than she did.

  “No, I’ll be fine. If they get any worse, I’ll tell you.”

  Walt nodded. He had no doubt that she would. “Okay, I have another mission for you, if you’re interested?”

  Sam smiled at him. He always said that, even though he knew she’d take it. “What’ve you got?”

  “This one’s sticky Sam, it involves the government.”

  Rolling her eyes she said, “So what else is new. Anything dealing with the government is always sticky. Let’s hear it.”

  “It involves the government, but only in a ‘we know nothing’ way,” he told her then pushed a file in front of her. “They want this taken care of, but they don’t want anyone to know they want it taken care of. Understand?”

  Sam opened the file and saw a picture of a pale, redheaded man. He looked like he came straight from a farm in Idaho. “I understand what you’re saying. Fill me in,” she said as she closed the file. No point in reading it. Walt would tell her everything she needed to know.

  “Mr. John Williams is a biologist. He was sent by our government to do some studies on Afghanistan’s soil, vegetation, wildlife, etc. They say we don’t need to know what he was studying, just that in the middle of taking samples out in the desert he was kidnapped. A very poor quality video was received by our military forces stationed there showing Mr. Williams bound and gagged with a large knife at his throat. The voice on the video said the US had five days to withdraw from their country or Mr. Williams would be executed.”

  Sam closed her eyes. Everyone was aware of Americans being kidnapped these days. It was all over the news. Most people were also aware that those poor souls had little chance of surviving. The government was not going to pull out and finding them was next to impossible. But she asked anyway.

  “They want us to bring him home?” he asked in soft voice.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, do they have any idea where he is? I mean, hasn’t special ops, SEALs, everyone they send in to bring these hostages home, said it’s impossible?” If they couldn’t find where the terrorists were hidden how was she going to find them?

  “I’ll get to that, but first you have to think about this carefully Sam. They requested you personally. They requested Black Smoke. They have no idea you’re a female and we both know what will happen if they capture you. So, please think about this.” Walt knew she rarely turned down a mission, but this was one he felt like begging her to turn down.

  Lying her head back on the chair, Sam closed her eyes. What should I do? This is dangerous, more dangerous than any other mission. What should I do? The questions were directed to her guide and she knew they would be answered.

  Yes, this is dangerous, but you must take it. The answer was swift and sure, almost forceful in its nature. Sam had never heard her whisper so firm and commanding before.

  “I’ll do it,” Sam told her uncle as she looked him straight in the eye.

  “You’re sure? I mean, were you told…”

  Sam cut him off. “Oh yes, I’m sure. I was told in a very firm manner to take it, so I have to believe it’s right.”

  Walt sat back in his chair and eyed her. He had learned early in their lives together never to question the voice she heard. It had saved her life more than once, but right now he felt like being the protective parent and grounding her for a month. “You’ll need to work with a small team,” he told her.

  “I’ve done that before Uncle Walt.”

  “Yes, but this team will be different. I was given special permission to use some very non-traditional soldiers. They won’t like not knowing who’s got their back,” he said carefully.

  Sam closed her eyes again. You’re sure about this? These men will hold my life in their hands. She questioned.

  More than your life will be at stake with these men child. Rest assured all will be well

  Walt watched her have the silent conversation in her head. When she opened her eyes he knew it was done. All that was left was to make the arrangements. “I’ll make a phone call. Be at our training grounds by one tomorrow afternoon. I’ll have the men there by one-thirty.”

  “Great. Now I’m going home to get a bath and some rest,” she said standing up. “I suggest you do the same.”

  “Sam, you’re sure about this? I mean, these men won’t be like the others you’ve worked with.”

  “No worries Uncle Walt.” She told him with a smile then leaned across the desk and kissed him on the cheek.

  Walt grunted as he watched her leave the room. So why was he so worried? He knew her combat skills were as good as those of any man he’d ever seen. Her sharp mind could get her through any predicament and her ability to talk and be guided by an entity, or angel, or whatever it was, gave her an added edge. Still, his uneasy feeling wouldn’t go away and that bothered him.

  He picked up the phone and dialed. When the voice on the other end answered he simply said, “Black Smoke is a go,” then he hung up. If she returned from this alive, he was going to take her on a long vacation.

  * * * * *

  Sam pulled into the driveway of her small ranch house. Next to her car this was her favorite possession. It didn’t look like much, just a plain three bedroom, one floor house, but it was hers.

  It was the second thing she’d purchased. Her car was the first. She’d decorated it herself, painted the walls, picked out the furniture, all to suit herself.

  Some people might expect that a woman who ran around the world burying herself in dirt, hiding in trees and participating in hand-to-hand combat would have a barren, almost empty home. But this home was truly home. She had all her favorite pictures hanging on the walls, knickknacks she’d picked up on her travels placed tidily on shelves. Frilly curtains were hanging in the windows. Puffy throw pillows sat neatly on every piece of furniture and her bathroom had lush towels, fragrant soaps and lotions sitting ready on the vanity.

  Just
because she worked like a man didn’t mean she wanted to be one. She enjoyed being female, even enjoyed things like painting her own toenails. When she wasn’t Black Smoke she referred to herself as White Lace. And tonight White Lace was going to soak in her garden tub full of freesia bubbles while candles flickered around her.

  When morning came Sam woke with renewed energy. The sun was shining, birds were chirping on her front lawn and all seemed perfect in small-town Pennsylvania. Sam filled her coffee pot with water and ground coffee and waited for the aroma to fill the kitchen as she watched children walking down the sidewalk to meet the school bus. What would it be like to have one of those children hers, to be called mom and be hugged tightly around the neck?

  Well, maybe another two years playing rescue then she’d settle down and try to find Mr. Right and make those dreams come true. After another two years she wouldn’t have to worry about money. Uncle Walt had made sure she got paid well for her services. She had a healthy six-figure bank account. Maybe she’d open up a spa for all those mothers who ran around franticly trying to get their children to all the after-school events they were in. Then again, maybe she could write about her exploits and become a best-selling author. The choices were endless as far as she was concerned.

  Not today though, today she had to meet her new team and see if they could all work together to accomplish their goal. Sam looked at the clock. Eight. She still had time to do some shopping before heading for the training field. She loved shopping. It was how she treated herself for a job well done. She never bought anything extravagant, just something small and personal.

  * * * * *

  While Sam strolled through the shops three men landed on the airstrip on the training field. Men who only knew they were going to be tested for a mission. No questions were asked. They simply boarded the plane at the appointed time. That’s how they operated—take orders and reach the goal. To them this was just another day.

  Walt Cannon met the three men on the airstrip. He’d heard they were the best and now he’d find out. He didn’t like the idea of men he didn’t know finding out who Black Smoke was.