“Don’t suppose you’d give me your pistol?” He’d seen Bacon get ready and knew he had both the larger weapon he was holding and a smaller gun in a leg holster.
“No chance.” Bacon gave him what looked to be a wry smile—the night-vision googles made it very hard to make out expressions, which further frustrated him.
Bacon removed a compass from his vest, checked it with a sharp nod. “Let’s go. Watch your footing.”
In the distance, Spencer swore he could hear gunfire. Fuck. This wasn’t good at all. This had been planned as a covert, silent exercise. What had gone so wrong?
“Do you think—” he started but Bacon whirled on him.
“Sssh,” he hissed.
Duly chastened by the reminder that talking could be deadly, Spencer followed Bacon. The night-vision goggles were challenging—they didn’t create daylight so much as just shadows in stark relief with an eerie green glow. And in a jungle where everything was green to start with, it was hard to discern where to step.
They hiked deeper into the jungle, no more view of the encampment beneath them or the village by the beach. Animal rustling sounds kept the night from being too quiet, but also put him on edge because he didn’t know when something nocturnal might land on him. He was contemplating what he’d do if a monkey swooped out of a tree when Bacon whirled on him.
“Down. Now.” He shoved Spencer roughly to the jungle floor. Fuck. Maybe that hadn’t been monkeys moving about at all. Now, he was hyper alert, listening for the sound of footsteps.
“Someone’s up ahead.” Bacon reported in a whisper. Using his comm set, Bacon whispered urgently, but the channel remained dead. He cursed. “Fuck. No way to know whether they’re friendlies.”
On his stomach, Bacon crept forward, and Spencer followed suit. Coming to the top of a hill, they had limited view of a clearing ahead of them. Two clearly human shapes lurked at the far edge of the clearing, hands gesturing wildly even though each clutched a weapon.
“Shit. Okay. We’re just going to hunker down here,” Bacon whispered. “Not our guys. Too short. Not English.”
“Okay.” Spencer had barely breathed the word when something whizzed overhead. “What?”
“Sssh.” Bacon took the safety off his weapon with an audible click. He turned his body, and Spencer followed suit. Fuck. A third shape standing sentry was aiming a large gun their general direction. That person yelled something to the others, all of whom hurried over. Spencer couldn’t make out the words, but from the gesturing, the sentry was telling the others to go search. Two of the guys wore goggles, but the other had a lantern flipped on. They started toward—
Us. Spencer didn’t have a chance to register the thought before shots rang out in rapid succession. Ahead of him, Bacon’s breathing had slowed and his hands were steady on his weapon as he dropped each of the three would-be-searchers. Like seriously, dropped them. The third guy managed to get a wild shot off before he fell, right next to his friends.
“Fast. To the other side of the clearing. Others will be looking for these three.” Bacon dragged him up, past his shock. “Run.”
On some sort of autopilot level he didn’t know he had, Spencer sprinted after Bacon. “You just—”
“Save it. You can freak out when we’re on the water.”
As they moved quickly through the clearing and back into the dense vegetation, Bacon was muttering into the comm set, trying to report what had happened, but judging by his curses, he wasn’t having any luck.
“Ow.” Some sort of dense vine slammed into Spencer’s face, rattling his helmet and goggles and making him take a step back.
“You okay?” Bacon effortlessly freed him from the vegetation. “I want to push, but if you need a minute...”
“We can push.” Spencer didn’t want to be around when people came looking for those three.
“Stick close. I’ll slash through the worst of this.” Bacon started back up, a blistering pace over uneven, boggy terrain that switched to rocky some long minutes later.
Spencer was starting to lose his sense of time—maybe they’d run thirty minutes, maybe two hours. Hard to say. His lungs and leg muscles burned. It was still night, though, no glimmer of dawn. His night-vision goggles kept fogging up, which slowed him down more than he liked, and Bacon cursed softly every time he had to slow to fiddle with them.
“Switch,” he demanded as Spencer tried to adjust them yet again. He wrenched off his own goggles and thrust them out at Spencer. “Not sure what the hell’s up with yours, but these are calibrated fine. I’ll put up with foggy or whatever.”
Their situation was entirely too precarious for Spencer to argue with him, so he made the trade without too much more fuss. “Don’t want you to fall, though,” he said as he passed his over.
“I won’t.” Bacon patted his shoulder, a quick, reassuring touch that was gone too soon before they were on the move again. They were climbing now, moving uphill at a clip that punished his quads.
“Shouldn’t we be going down, toward the beach?”
“This isn’t the express route. We’re gonna have a big drop eventually.” Bacon shot him a hard look, impossibly to decipher through the goggles, but it was like he was taking Spencer’s measure, and Spencer found himself straightening, wanting to prove himself worthy.
Some of what he was thinking must have shown, because Bacon let out a heavy sigh, coming to a full stop. “I’m not going to leave you.”
“I know you want to get back to the mission—”
“Don’t you get it, yet?” Bacon shook his head, making his goggles bounce. “You are my mission—keeping you safe and getting us off the island isn’t just a nice bonus. It’s my orders. There’s no question of rejoining the team. I don’t fulfill the mission objective of keeping you in one piece, there might not be another mission for me.”
It hit Spencer then, like the punishing slap of a monster wave against an inexperienced surfer, that Bacon hadn’t shot at those guys to help the team, but to save him. And fuck if that wasn’t a sobering thought. His very presence here was putting Bacon at risk, keeping him from being able to help the team. He was a liability—and he got that now, in a way he hadn’t before, not on the grinder with the young SEALs, not on any of the practice missions. This shit was real, and never had he been more aware that he was a journalist, not a warrior.
“I...I...” he sputtered, not sure what he needed to say. He was an independent, strong, mature man, and he didn’t have much experience with feeling like this.
“No freaking out,” Bacon said firmly. “I’m going to get us out of this jam, I promise.”
“I want to help.” Spencer really wanted to be more than just dead weight for Bacon.
“Keep moving forward. Keep calm. I’m gonna need you to carry your weight when we climb down too—I did something to my finger again, and I’m worried about that part.”
“I’ll help.” Spencer’s back muscles tensed. Bacon seemed so in-charge that knowing that he was worried was jarring, but also vaguely reassuring, like proof that he was human after all. Spencer wished he could see Bacon’s eyes, see more of his expression, hated having to rely so heavily on the night-vision goggles.
“Okay. According to my compass, we’ve got about another thirty minutes, then we’ll start our descent. We need to be on the water before dawn.”
“Lead on.”
They spent long minutes at a blistering pace, pushing forward, him trusting that Bacon’s compass wasn’t going to lead them straight off a cliff—or into enemy territory.
“Fuck.” Bacon pulled up short as the terrain shifted again. Judging by what the night-vision goggles revealed, they were close to the edge of a bluff, a sharp, steep decline for them to navigate. “This part’s going to suck. Go slow as you need. Watch your feet. And don’t worry about me.”
Keeping from sliding was an exe
rcise in futility, and judging by Bacon’s low curses, he was struggling just as much. His breathing came in harsh pants. “We’re almost there.” Bacon’s voice was tight but reassuring. The last part of the climb involved lowering themselves over a boulder to the smaller rocks below.
“How can we keep the pressure off your finger?” Spencer asked. “Want me to lower you down by your good arm?”
“I’m tempted to just jump it.”
“Last thing we need is you with a broken leg.”
“Okay, okay. Damn, I wish we had ropes.” Bacon kicked at the ground. “Get on your stomach and let me use your hand for extra support, but if I start pulling you over, just let go.”
“Not happening.” Spencer wasn’t going to let Bacon down, not now. Heart pounding, he followed Bacon’s directions, tried to take as much of Bacon’s weight as was safe, then with a mighty curse, Bacon was dropping to the ground beneath them.
“Your turn. Go slow. The drop’s more than it looked.” Bacon’s voice was pained. “I did a Shiny and turned my ankle landing.”
“Hell. Think it’s broken?” Spencer slowly lowered himself over the edge, dangling from both hands, trying to sense the ground and failing.
“Not broken. You can do it.”
Spencer wasn’t so sure, and he feared for his surgically repaired knee, but he had no choice but to let go and trust the universe wouldn’t punish his blind faith.
“Ooof.” He landed hard, jarring both knees and ankles and scraping his palms, but otherwise survived.
“Gonna need to use you as a crutch to get over this last bit.” Each word of Bacon’s was strained. “Fuck. I better not need to shoot.”
“Lean on me.” Spencer could live happily for the rest of his life without Bacon shooting anything again, but even as he had that thought, he knew it was damn unrealistic. Bacon grunted softly as they made their way across the rocky shore, and judging by the way he was gripping Spencer, he was in more pain than he wanted to admit to.
“Boat.” Bacon pointed ahead of them to a murky shape hidden between boulders. It was small, just a hull with an outboard motor and two oars. Barely enough space for both of them. And they were about to leave the relative safety of shore and go out on the ocean in that? “Help me get it in the water. We’ll want to row out before risking the motor.”
The water was colder than Spencer had expected as they worked together to get the craft into the churning sea. The weather did not seem to be cooperating for a launch—stiff winds were kicking up and the waves were unrelenting.
“Maybe we should hunker down on the shore, wait—”
“We have orders.” Bacon’s tone left no room for alternate plans. “And besides—shit.” Behind them, somewhere up on the ridge, gunfire sounded. “In. Row hard. Now.”
They tumbled into the boat, and Spencer manned the oars while Bacon crouched low with his gun. Long, desperate moments passed as Spencer strained, grateful for every hour he’d spent on the water as a teen and young adult, while Bacon scanned the shore. Spencer braced, expecting a boat to give chase any moment or shots to ring out.
“Oars in. I’m gonna gun the motor now,” Bacon said tersely. “Turning on our beacon too.”
He did something with the outboard motor but nothing happened. Fuck. Spencer found himself holding his breath, willing the engine to catch. But nothing happened. They were alone in a turbulent sea, shore rapidly retreating, nothing but glimmering stars to light their way. For the first time that night, Spencer knew true fear, chilling him through his soaked clothes. They might not make it. They had each other, but that might not be enough.
* * *
Bacon didn’t do panic, not after this many years as an operator, and he didn’t panic even as he messed with the unresponsive engine. He’d discarded the night-vision goggles and his gloves as they weren’t helping, but even messing around by the light of the moon wasn’t getting the job done.
“Should we row back to shore?” Spencer asked. He had done an admirable job holding it together, even better than some rookie SEALs Bacon had seen over the years, but Bacon still detected a waver in his voice.
“You really want to go back, take on an unknown amount of hostiles, who may or may not be better armed than us? Not to mention that we could get caught in the crossfire when the rest of the team catches up with them. And then there’s the whole thing of me ignoring direct orders.” Bacon wanted to take Spencer’s suggestion in the worst way, so bitterness leached into his voice. Doing the responsible thing sucked. But he had to keep Spencer safe at all costs.
“Guess not. I just hate doing nothing.”
“Join the club. But by staying out of the fray, we are doing something. I have coordinates. We can row best as we can, but even if we don’t make good headway, the beacon will lead the boat team to us. Eventually. We just have to be patient.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me this was a possibly? You and I leaving everyone behind?” Spencer sounded more bewildered than angry, but there was some of that too, Bacon was sure.
“LT always likes to keep plans close to his chest. That and we need to protect you. There has to be a contingency plan. There’s always multiple contingency plans. Truth be told, you were way more at risk than anyone was really comfortable with.”
“Yeah.” Spencer’s reply was little more than air, and Bacon knew what that soft sound really meant.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” He forced himself to gentle his tone. “We’ve got all the time in the world for it now. I’m sure you’re probably thinking there were other options, that I didn’t have to shoot.” Bacon studied Spencer as much as the darkness allowed. Like Bacon, he’d removed the night-vision goggles, but he wasn’t looking at Bacon, instead intent on his rowing.
“You did what you had to.” Spencer’s voice was terse.
“Yup. But it’s okay for you to be freaked out, angry even. It was probably the first time you saw something like that.”
“I just...couldn’t you have waited for them to be a threat?”
“This isn’t some movie where we can all debate how wrong someone was to shoot first. I followed my orders and training. Letting them get closer, discover us, maybe even shoot at us would have been a royal clusterfuck. Best case scenario would have been them taking us hostage, and I was under strict orders to not let that happen.”
“I guess you’re right.” Spencer sounded far from convinced.
“Would you have felt better if they wounded you first? Because I wasn’t going to let that happen. No chance.”
“But...” Spencer sighed, a heavy sound of resignation, and Bacon had a feeling he’d be punching something if they were on land. As it was, the oars hit the water more forcibly for a few strokes before Spencer spoke again. “We didn’t even check on them. Shouldn’t we have... I don’t know, done something?”
“We did do something.” Remembering back to his first few missions and how utterly lost and overwhelmed he’d felt, Bacon could be patient with Spencer. “We followed orders. I couldn’t guarantee there wouldn’t be more guys coming within seconds. There was no time to waste.”
“Don’t you... I mean, you’re all worried about me and how I’m coping, but what about you?”
“Me?” Bacon took a breath because this was probably where his tentative friendship or whatever with Spencer died. “You wanna know how I’ll sleep tonight? How many times I’ve been in similar situations and whether it weighs on me?”
“Yeah. I want to know what you need. Maybe I’m not the one who needs to be talking.”
“Thanks for the concern, but I’m okay. Truly. The first couple of times I was out in the field, I didn’t sleep the best after, and I really wrestled with my feelings, but these days I don’t have any issues with sleeping. Or guilt. Which I know makes me seem callous or unfeeling, but I’ve made my peace with what I do to keep my team s
afe. My country too for that matter.”
“I hate that you had to do that for me. I feel... I don’t know, unworthy of that, somehow.” Spencer was still shivering so Bacon moved so he was right beside Spencer.
“Stop rowing for a minute. Let’s see if we can warm you up.” He rubbed Spencer’s arms, moving slowly because he knew his touch might not be the most welcome. “And you are worthy. But if it makes you feel better, I would have done the same for anyone standing next to me.”
“And that doesn’t bug you? Having to do that?”
Bacon groaned as he continued trying to rub some warmth into Spencer’s icy hands. “This is why I don’t have relationships. People think boning a navy SEAL sounds so sexy until they learn what it is I really do, and then they’re either weirdly fascinated by my kill count or completely put off by it. Few people want a cold-blooded sniper as a long-term partner. Hell, even my non-military friends don’t like knowing details.”
“I’m not going to lie. It does change how I see you.” Despite his words, Spencer wasn’t pulling away from Bacon, instead leaning into his touch. “You did something I’m pretty sure I couldn’t do if the situation were reversed and that’s...sobering. But I’m not thinking you’re some sort of monster or something if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Bacon released a breath because he had been worried about exactly that. “When I signed up for SEAL training, the only thought in my head was proving my old man wrong. I had so much anger from Jamie’s death, but I didn’t really want to hurt anyone. I was an emo punk kid from Kansas, not a killer. Even with all the hours they had me out on the shooting range that first year, I still wasn’t sure I could do it.”
“I bet.” Spencer’s voice was soft and reassuring.
“Then we were out on our first real mission, and they had me partnered with this grizzled older chief. I can’t tell you too many of the details, but we started taking fire. He yelled at me to shoot, and I...froze. And he took a bullet to the leg as a result. Almost died. I grew up a lot that day. And I realized that if I didn’t do my job, didn’t protect my teammates, they could die. The mission could fail. It was all up to me.”
Tight Quarters Page 10