"Seems to me, you oughta be thanking them right about now," Jax said, hands in the pockets of his cargo pants. "If they hadn’t dropped all this shit on us and attacked Cali, we never woulda had any reason to go shoot up downtown LA and steal a Chinese APC—and you never would have met her," Jax said as he jerked his head down the corridor Brenda had taken.
“The fuck are you talking about?" Cooper asked.
"You two never would've met, if we hadn’t got dragged into this war.”
Cooper groaned. "Not that it matters—I can’t seem to say the right things…"
Jax looked from Mike, laying underneath the covers in the infirmary back to his commanding officer. “Don’t worry about saying the right things, just do the right things.” Jax waited as comprehension dawned on Cooper’s face. "Go after her, dumbass!”
Jax cleared his throat. “Sir.”
Cooper continued to hesitate. Jax flashed a smile.
“Now go on—get out of here, we only got a few hours before wheels-up, remember?”
He turned to hurry down the hallway, Jax’s laughter following him. "One step at a time, brother, one step at a time.”
Cooper picked up speed and called over his shoulder with a wave, "Thanks." He rounded a corner, his boots thudding off the floor, and caught up with Brenda before she entered the main lab.
"Brenda!"
She froze, her ID badge inches away from the card reader. She didn't look at him but stared at the door as he approached.
"I'm glad I caught you," he said as he came up next to her.
She turned and looked at him, her eyes moist and slightly red rimmed. "Are you?"
"Of course I am," he said. He was already starting off on the wrong foot and he knew it. His chest suddenly felt tight, his heart rate accelerated and he could feel a cold sweat form on his back. He had never truly felt panic before. He’d survived the Great Pandemic, went through SEAL training and BUD/S. He’d been instilled with an unwavering confidence in his abilities and training that had served him well throughout his career. No matter what happened, Cooper Braaten did not panic. He reassessed the situation, figured a way to overcome the obstacles, and complete the mission. Always. That was who he was, that was what he did.
But this? No matter what he said, no matter what he did, he felt like he was making the wrong move and somehow he should have known better. The fact of the matter was he didn’t know what to do or say and he was starting to lose confidence in himself. It was the scariest feeling he’d ever experienced.
"Look… I," he began and stopped. Brenda continued to look at him, but her expression began to soften. The barest hint of a smile began to play across her lips.
"You know," she said softly. "You’re kinda cute when you’re scared."
Cooper frowned. "Scared? Cute?”
Brenda’s smile spread and her eyes sparkled, not with grief but humor. "I take it back—you’re not scared, you’re terrified. I can see it in your eyes."
Cooper let his hands fall to his sides and his shoulders slump again, this time in defeat. He was in way over his head. "You're right," he said dejectedly. "I have no idea what the hell I'm doing."
Brenda's hand came off the doorknob and found his. "Well, your friend did seem really angry, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
Cooper recoiled. "What? You mean Charlie?" He shook his head. "No, I know my team—he can handle it.” He grinned, the old confidence returning in a rush. “No, I'm not worried about—it’s you."
"Me?" Brenda's eyebrows shot up. "Why are you worried about me?"
Cooper shrugged. "No, not you, I guess… This," he said lifting her hand, his fingers intertwined with hers. "I've only ever been in a few relationships and every single one of them got cocked up in the end. I just…I don't want to screw this one up.”
"Can I tell you something?" Brenda said in a voice so soft he almost didn't hear her.
"Anything," Cooper said. “Throw me a lifeline, here."
Brenda smiled sadly. "I've got a bad feeling about your mission…"
Cooper paused for a second and then pulled her into a tight embrace. She snuggled into his chest and sighed contentedly. He gently smoothed her hair. "You don't need to be afraid. You'll be down here, doing more important work than me. You're the one that’s going to save millions of lives…"
"I don't know if I can do this…" she whispered. "When you were in Boston… I didn't sleep, I didn't eat, I could hardly focus on anything. All I could think about, all I worried about was—"
Cooper had heard enough. He wasn't normally inclined to be a talkative person. He was running out of time. They were running out of time. His sudden eagerness surprised him—he cupped her cheeks in his hands and leaned in to kiss her. Her palms flattened on his chest then as her tongue found his she gripped his shirt and pressed her body full-length against him.
Brenda reluctantly pulled away from the kiss and stared up at him through half-closed eyes. "Follow me," she said. Without looking, she activated the keypad and kicked open the door to the lab. She grabbed Cooper with both hands and pulled him through the door.
Cooper turned and examined the lab. Dozens of computers filled the space and several large monitors had been attached to the walls. The lab had been designed to present only a semi-darkness illumination, to save tired eyes when staring at screens and microscopes all day—or night.
It was deserted. Cooper cleared his throat. "I thought you had a bunch of people helping you…?”
Brenda leaned back against the door and pushed the large red button that activated the magnetic locking system from the inside. Four loud pops echoed through the thick steel door and just like that, they were entombed in the lab.
Brenda began to remove her scrubs. She lifted up the front of her shirt, exposing the soft, taut skin of her stomach and began to stretch her arms up. The green top dropped to the floor beside her. "Didn't I tell you?" she asked as Cooper stared at the delicately-laced bra that barely concealed her breasts.
He smiled. “You planned this…”
She stepped away from the door and grabbed Cooper's belt buckle. "I'm in charge down here."
CHAPTER 24
Brikston, Kentucky.
CHAD GOT TO HIS feet. “I don’t get it, Captain Alston. Why did you come barging in here with all these questions?"
The steely-eyed Ranger glanced at Chad dismissively. He looked feverish. Chad recognized that look. Alston didn’t have too much more time. Those hard eyes swiveled back to 13. "Asked you a question, ma'am."
Chad looked at 13 as she sat sideways on a simple wooden bench in the corner of the humble vestry. She gingerly stretched her leg along the length of the bench. 13 adjusted Garza’s soiled bandage wrapped around her thigh and frowned. “I have no answer. I don’t know anyone named Clifford Mosby.”
The Ranger shifted on his feet. Chad saw Deuce step into the room and take a look around before assuming a position just inside the door. They were nervous about something, that was clear enough. Chad crossed his arms. "What’d this guy say?"
Alston looked at Chad. "He works for the CIA.”
"And you believed him?" asked Chad. “He could be a Russian!”
“It’s true, the Russians have some extremely well-placed spies, but this guy knows everything. He’s either one of them or he was telling the truth. I'm inclined to believe the latter.”
“Why? What kind of information did he tell you?”
Alston kept his mouth shut. The classified kind, his look said.
Chad tried a different tact. “What was it about him that made you believe him?”
Alston rolled his shoulder. "He was here before we even came into the area. He’d been tracking an NKor agent—the ones the CIA’s been hunting all over the country lately.”
“Says him.” Chad harrumphed and sat down at the priest’s desk. "Well, I don't trust him."
Alston flashed a crooked grin. “As it happens, I'm the one in charge of this shit-show, not you." His eyes
shifted back to rest on 13 as she watched them from the bench. "If you can’t or won’t tell me anything about Clifford Mosby, then maybe we can talk about Reginald."
Chad watched as the color drained from 13's already pale face. “Who’s Reginald?” She recovered quickly—she sounded so honestly curious that if Chad hadn’t been watching her closely he might have missed the lie.
Alston sighed and took a few steps across the room until he could kneel next to the bench. He leaned in close and stared straight into her eyes. She looked at Deuce, who adjusted the grip on his M4, held at his waist.
"Ma'am, I don't know who the hell you are, who the hell you work for, or what your story is. I'm responsible for getting that man,” he said as he pointed at Chad, "safely back to Colorado so his blood can help save our country. I'm responsible for the lives and safety of the men placed under my command. If I find out that you are in any way shape or form endangering those lives—"
Police sirens echoed outside the building.
Alston broke off his threat and looked at Chad. "You hear that?"
Chad nodded. "Sounds like the police…"
One of the Marines ducked his head into the vestry. "Sir, I think you better get up front."
Alston stood and keyed his radio. "Zuka, you got eyes-on? What’s the sitrep?"
Chad looked at 13. Her eyes were deep blue pools of fear and worry. Her right hand held the side of the bench in a white-knuckled grip and she shook her head slightly at him, then returned her gaze to Alston.
The Ranger nodded, staring above her at the wall. "Roger that. I'm on my way." He switched frequencies on his radio, then said, “Nobody gets trigger-happy here, people—not until I know what's going on. I need to talk to them first. Everyone maintain your position and keep your field of fire open."
Alston looked down at Chad. Beads of sweat trickled down his face and Chad spotted a slight tremble in his hands. If he had to bet, he’d guess that Alston was reaching his fever spike. He didn’t know how Alston kept his feet—most people Chad had seen infected by The Pandemic strain had dropped to the floor by now. Maybe it’s mutating…
"Keep an eye on her, sir, but watch your back. We'll continue this discussion later." He turned to leave and motioned for Deuce to leave the room. He shut the door behind him and said, “Nobody goes in or out of this room until I come back."
Chad listened for a few moments as their footsteps moved to the front of the building. Thunder crashed overhead, as if to put emphasis on their situation.
He turned and looked at 13. "What was all that about?"
She sighed and lay back on the cot, resting her head on the small pillow. Her hands traced the bandage Garza had wrapped around her shapely thigh. Her eyes closed. "I don't know."
Chad opened his mouth to ask about Reginald, then checked himself. Maybe Alston’s right. Why lie about knowing this guy? He decided to press her further when the first gunshots rang out.
Chad ducked instinctively and looked around. “What was that?”
13 slid off the bench and dropped to the floor in a crouch. “Get down!" She grabbed his arm and jerked him to the floor next to her.
More shots rang out—to Chad's ears, they sounded like the sharp, short bark of a pistol.
When Alston’s men returned fire, it sounded like open warfare inside the church. Despite 13’s protests, Chad made his way to the small window near the priest’s well-worn desk. He peered through the iron bars. The bumps and ridges of the textured stained-glass window made it difficult to see what was on the other side. Suddenly, a dark shape filled the frame and Chad jumped back. “Shit!”
"Who was that?" whispered 13.
He crouched down and quickly crossed back to her. "I can’t tell, but I think we’re in trouble here." He started for the door.
"Where are do you think you’re going? You don’t have a weapon," she called out.
Despite the growing number of questions about her background and what he’d seen her do, Chad couldn’t deny his Texan roots—he still felt an urge to protect her. Even if she could kick his ass. He winked and turned back to the door. The sound of the gunfire intensified. Whatever was going on out there, the firefight was growing hotter. Chad slowly reached out and turned the doorknob. When the door cracked open the sound that assaulted his ears was even much louder than he’d anticipated.
"Over there! Move around to the left," Alston yelled.
"Got him!” Garza replied. Gunfire echoed back and forth across the church and Chad could hear the tinkling of brass shells hitting the wooden pews.
He stuck his head out the vestry door and heard pounding from the hallway to the left, behind a statue of the Virgin Mary. He saw a faint beam of light appear at the bottom of the door.
"Hey!" he roared as the gunfire nearest him stopped. "Somebody’s trying to break down the back door!"
Deuce, at his position near a window on the north side of the building, turned. Chad pointed frantically, gesturing down the hallway.
“On it!” called out Deuce. He had one of the Marines cover his position by the window. Deuce ran past Chad and said, “Get your ass back in that room!"
Chad stepped back but didn't shut the door. "What’s going on?"
Over his shoulder, Deuce answered, “What the fuck do you think? We’re under attack—get back inside!"
Chad remained in the entrance to the priest’s vestry. He knew he had to get out of the building, but he didn't know where to go or what to do.
Behind him, 13 shouted, “What are you doing? Get back in here!”
Chad heard increased gunfire coming from the emergency exit before Deuce’s shout was cut off by the unmistakable retort of a shotgun, followed by two pistol shots in quick succession.
Alston’s men called for covering fire. Chad heard words like “fall back” and “new firing position” over the ruckus.
White smoke billowed out of the emergency exit hallway. As his eyes began to water, he felt 13 grab his arm and yank him back inside before slamming the door. 13 pointed at the bench: “Move that to block the door while I find something to smash the window.”
"We can’t just leave the—” Chad began.
“Hurry! The soldiers won’t be able to protect us much longer.”
The door opened before Chad could block it. The biggest man he'd ever seen filled the door frame, decked out in what looked like a police officer’s tactical uniform, complete with a full-face gas mask. He wore a bulky bulletproof vest splattered with blood. He rushed into the room and grabbed both Chad and 13 by their hair. The man dragged them out of the vestry, past the altar, and down to the emergency exit through the smoke.
Chad tried to yell for help, but between the smoke—which he realized was teargas—and the raging battle inside the church, no one heard.
He clawed at the emergency exit’s door frame as he was dragged by his scalp toward the storm outside. Chad shouted till his throat hurt, but there was nothing anyone could do. He was enveloped by the thick, acrid smoke and his eyes reflexively closed against the intense burning. Tears streamed uncontrollably down his face as he coughed and gagged. Next to him, he sensed 13 landing blow after blow against their captor’s body to no effect.
Chad grew frantic when he felt the cool air outside strike his skin and the noise of the gunfight dropped off into the background. Rain hit his face like a cold shower. Over the noise of the storm, he heard the echo of shots fired into the church and the muted roar of return fire.
The cop dragged him and 13 away from the church. Through squinted eyes, Chad saw a blurry image of the church as he passed around the corner of a building just to the south. They were being dragged away from their saviors. Chad felt reasonably certain that whoever the cop was working for, they knew who he was—and therefore he was relatively safe. His blood would be no good if he was killed. But 13…
The cold rain washed the effects of the teargas from his system and Chad was able to take his first deep breaths of air, saturated with the rain t
hat fell from the sky and soaked him to the bone. It wasn’t easy to breathe, but it was easier than it had been a moment before. He tried to scramble to his feet to relieve the painful burning of his scalp as he was forced along behind the cop. The rain-slicked pavement and mounds of trash on the ground made it difficult to walk. He tried shouting again.
Slowly began Chad to regain his ability to walk and stopped struggling as much against the iron grip of Robocop—it wasn’t doing any good anyway. He noticed the officer did not let up as he stopped resisting, but the urgency with which the man dragged him away from the church diminished.
Chad did his best to stare into the rain and let the cold water wash the painful chemicals from his eyes. Despite the fact that his eyes still burned, at least his vision had returned. He shook his head in an attempt to clear the water and the cop jerked his neck and pulled forward.
“What the hell?" Chad said in a choked voice. He was rewarded with a coughing fit that nearly made him double over. The cop pulled him back up and dragged him farther away from the church down an alley. Gunfire echoed off the buildings nearby and grew more muffled by the storm with every step.
He heard 13 coughing painfully. He hoped he didn’t sound that bad but guessed he probably sounded worse. He wanted to reach out and comfort her, but he was sure that if he showed any signs of emotional attachment to her, the cop would probably use that against him. And her.
“Help!” Chad hollered. “Captain Alston!”
"Shut the fuck up!" growled the deep voice of the cop, muffled by his gas mask.
Without warning, the big man turned and Chad felt himself flung against a brick wall. 13 landed with a grunt next to him. He looked over at her and she winked one bloodshot, tear-filled eye to let him know she was okay.
Chad looked up through the rain at the mountain of a man that stood before them. He wore a sodden, bulletproof vest that had SWAT stenciled in white letters across his chest. He ignored Chad and gave 13 a silent once-over as he peeled off the gas mask and dropped it with a splash to the ground. His face was scratched and bruised, like he’d been in a bar fight. A vicious smile spread across his wide lips.
The Shift: Book II of the Wildfire Saga Page 29