Betrayed 02 - Havoc

by Carolyn McCray

  It was only a few more feet.

  Then another loud crack pierced the air.

  This time it wasn’t a wall of snow coming, it was a steamroller aiming straight for them.

  Okay.

  Officially, the fucking plan had come unstuck.

  Aunush watched through her binoculars as somehow the weak researcher finally got up and ran alongside Brandt. They sought the shelter of those rocks, but the torrent of snow the sniper had created in a directed avalanche overwhelmed them both.

  With eager anticipation she watched as tons of snow poured over their location. Sweeping to the east, the others of his team were in similar dire situations. The only one who seemed to come out of the multistaged avalanche was the corporal. He was still riding high upon his shield.

  She went back to Brandt and Monroe’s position. They were the only ones who mattered. Aunush needed to be certain that she had truly cut off the head of the snake. Without the researcher they would not have the historical acumen to follow any path Nikolay might have set them upon. And without Brandt they would not have the might to see the mission through.

  The avalanche slowed and then finally stopped. A ringing silence filled the air. Not a bird chirped. The wind died down to nothing. As if Nature herself was waiting to see the results of her handiwork. Aunush scanned the area where the jutting rocks used to be. They were so buried that she could not even know exactly where they lay. All the better.

  Let it be an unmarked grave.

  “We must go down and finish them off,” the wei insisted.

  Aunush checked the perfectly smooth snowfield. Not a sign of movement.

  “And how exactly do you plan to dig through thirty feet of snow?” she asked, cocking her head. “Especially when the others are still at large?”

  The man’s cheeks blazed red. Or was that from the cuts and scratches that covered his face? “I am done listening to your—”

  The wei never finished his thought since he no longer had a mouth. A sniper shot from this close? The man was lucky to still have his head. As the wei’s body crumpled to the ground, Aunush turned to his two remaining men.

  “Would anyone else like to object to my leadership?”

  Both men promptly shook their heads.

  The braver of the two cleared his throat. “What do we do now?”

  She was so glad he asked.

  “We wait to see if we need to activate our secondary protocol.”

  The man looked like he wished to know more, but Aunush only grinned. It was too delicious to share.

  Rebecca clung to Brandt as the darkness threatened to consume them. Her ears rang so loudly that it was difficult to know if the avalanche had really stopped or if it was just wishful thinking.

  Brandt’s hand moved to his belt as he unhooked his light and turned it on. She went to speak, but he put his finger up to his lips. Right. Sound could set off another avalanche.

  He swung the beam around them. The rocks had kept the avalanche from crushing them outright, however even the stone groaned under the snow’s weight. On every other side the snow walled them in. Brandt put a hand against the white barrier, but it didn’t give at all.

  She gulped back panic. They were alive. They had oxygen. Not a lot though as she looked at their tiny enclosure. Brandt clawed at the snow and got a bit to move, but it piled up at his feet.

  He turned to her, sorrow in his eyes as he shook his head. There would be no digging their way out. Given how long the avalanche had sounded overhead, Rebecca could bet there was way more snow above them than they had room to store it.

  Brandt put his hands on her shoulders and whispered, “We’ve got to stay calm. Conserve oxygen.”

  And heat. Rebecca was already shivering. She noticed that Brandt didn’t promise anything like how soon they would be rescued or how everything was going to be fine. He wasn’t that guy. He wouldn’t lie to keep her spirits up. While she wasn’t well versed in avalanche statistics, she did watch the news. She did know how low the rescue rate was even under the best of circumstances. With dozens upon dozens of workers using heavy equipment. All they had was the other five members of their team, if they had survived the avalanche. And what equipment did they have besides Lopez’s shield?

  Wordlessly Brandt sat down against the rock and spread his arms. Rebecca lowered herself beside him, allowing his arms to wrap around her. If they were to die, at the least it would be together.

  Davidson dug through the snow, finding a hand. He dug faster, shoveling snow with both hands.

  “Hang on,” he reassured as those exposed fingers wiggled. She was alive. Talli joined him as Harvish dropped to his knees and helped despite a ragged, bleeding bullet wound to his shoulder.

  Within moments they had her torso uncovered. She wrapped her frigid arms around him as he pulled her from the snowbank. Davidson rubbed her back as she snuggled her head against his neck. Talli threw a blanket over her.

  Bunny looked up into Davidson’s eyes. “I think I’m done with the snow.”

  Then she leaned in and kissed him. His lips didn’t know how to respond.

  “Get a room,” Harvish teased as she pulled away. “Or spread the love, I’m just saying.”

  Bunny shook her head before burying it against Davidson’s skin.

  Davidson held her stiffly, not really knowing what to do or say.

  “Hey!” a shout came from behind, saving him from the awkward moment. Lopez trudged up the slope dragging his shield behind him. “Save a little for the next X Games champion!”

  The corporal’s smile fell though as he surveyed their group. “Where’s Rebecca?” he asked. “Brandt?”

  Davidson held Bunny closer as he answered. “We have no idea.”

  Brandt kept his breathing low and shallow. At such high altitude that was a recipe for blacking out, but he wanted to take in as little oxygen as possible. And give off minimal carbon dioxide. In tight, enclosed spaces like this carbon dioxide poisoning would probably get them before they ran out of oxygen.

  Not exactly a pleasant thought.

  Rebecca stirred in his arms. She’d fallen asleep after the first hour. The stress and the trauma had taken its toll. He stroked her hair, soothing her restlessness.

  God, this was so fucked up. The worst part wasn’t even that they were trapped with little oxygen and even less hope of being rescued. No, it was because while they were physically together, they would die apart.

  Even after everything that Brandt had seen, the dark hearts at the center of religious zealots, he still believed with all his heart in Jesus’s promise. He believed in the sanctity of marriage. For him, his vows truly were a covenant with God.

  And he had made it with a woman besides Rebecca.

  Brandt couldn’t even picture Maria’s face in his mind’s eye. She was a stranger.

  His child though? His son? That he could see as clear as day.

  Carefully so as not to disturb Rebecca, Brandt flicked back on the flashlight and opened his chest pocket. Tenderly so as not to rip the edge, he took out the picture of Maria’s last sonogram. To be able to see a life before it was even born was practically a miracle in itself. Although they didn’t have long to wait. The baby’s due date was in a few short weeks.

  Brandt took in a deep breath. The boy would not grow up a bastard. This marriage without love would provide for the boy even if Brandt died here. The child would get all of the military benefits due. Given Brandt’s line of work, and the frequency with which he found himself in such situations, how could he not give such comfort to his child?

  But at what cost to Rebecca?

  He tucked a stray blond strand behind her ear. He’d robbed her of her future to secure his son’s.

  Like he said, the situation was fucked up.

  Rebecca reached out and took the picture from Brandt. The grainy photo showed the most perfect little baby. Brandt’s baby.

  “He’s got your chin,” she whispered.

  “You think so?
”

  “No,” she laughed softly. “Not really.” The baby didn’t look a thing like Brandt, but what baby looked like their parents at this age? The child also didn’t look like some kind of brunette bombshell either.

  “Rebecca...” Brandt whispered. “I am so sorry.”

  She shook her head though as she handed the picture back. “Don’t.”

  The child had been theoretical. An intellectual chit in her mind’s machinations. She’d shuffled the weight of the baby against Brandt’s love of her. She’d measured and divided up worth, still not understanding how Brandt had left her.

  Now? After seeing that picture? There were no scales in the world or the heavens above that wouldn’t find in favor of the baby.

  Tears streamed down her face as she realized that she’d lost Brandt. For good. There was someone, so tiny, so precious, who needed him more than even she. Rebecca looked up into Brandt’s eyes to see him crying as well.

  Brandt crying. If that didn’t prove his love for her, despite everything else to the contrary, nothing else would.

  “Forgive me,” he breathed out.

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” she said, then ducked under his arm. “But we’ve got to stop this.”

  “What do you mean? We’re just—”

  “We know exactly what we’re doing.” She scooted back from him. “What we have been doing this whole time.”

  Brandt looked away.

  “You’re married,” Rebecca stated, trying to keep the tears from her voice. “And we’ve been trying to have our cake and eat it too.”

  Brandt slowly nodded. All those subtle touches. How not by accident they kept getting paired off. There still was nothing platonic about their relationship. They were like magnets finding their way together no matter what lay between them.

  “They can’t find us...” Rebecca almost lost her nerve and dove into his arms, but she had to be strong. They both had to be strong for that little baby in the picture. “They can’t find us dead, arm in arm. In an embrace.”

  “Who said anything about dead?” a tinny voice announced.

  What the hell?

  Brandt swept the light around their tiny hiding spot.

  And between two rocks a thin metal tube jutted through the snow.

  “Well?” Davidson asked Lopez. “Are they alive?”

  “Um, yeah,” the corporal answered. “And having some kind of touchy-feely moment.”

  Davidson let out a sigh of relief that started in his soul and flushed away the ache in his heart. Bunny squeezed his hand. “Told ya.”

  Her skin glowed in the morning sun, bouncing off the freckles and making her red hair glow like a warm fire. He turned away, unable to take in the sight, totally happy to have the distraction of freeing Rebecca and Brandt.

  “Hang tight, you guys,” Lopez spoke into the mic. “Now that we’ve got your four-one-one, we should be down there in a few.”

  The corporal pulled out the long piece of metal that had their quasi-communications device attached to it. They’d cobbled the thing together from the Bombardier’s shattered radio. The whole thing had been Talli’s idea. They’d used the broken struts to poke into the snow until they hit rock. From there they’d attached some insta-heat packs to the tip of the strut, melting enough snow to form a mini-tunnel to send down the jury-rigged mic. They couldn’t waste time digging until they knew for sure they’d found the right spot.

  Talli and Harvish carried four “shovels” from the Bombardier’s crash site. Basically they’d taken pieces of damaged metal, bent two edges over, and duct-taped them into a functional handle.

  Lopez grabbed his with gusto. “First one to break through doesn’t have to write up the after-action report on this one.”

  Davidson had never seen men dig so fast.

  Brandt tried to focus on what the hell Davidson was saying, but after the forty-eight hours he’d had? No chance. Just getting the hell out of Slovenia hadn’t been a remake of Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. It had been Snowshoe, Broken-Down RV, and Stolen Crop Dusters. Not the most efficient extraction, but it had gotten them out of Europe and on their way to the Middle East.

  He glanced to the back of the plane where the women were holed up poring over the new fragments of the tablets. So far all indicators pointing to the tablets, and therefore Amed’s storage facility for the Rinderpest, was located in Western Jordan. Rebecca and Bunny were working to narrow down that rather large search area a bit.

  For the moment though they were flying to Queen Alia’s International Airport. It was the westernmost airport in Jordan. From there they would head to the Kempinski Ishtar hotel and spa. Not for R & R although they could all use it, but because it was located on the Dead Sea just a few miles off of the route Moses took through the desert to the Promised Land. It was a good enough as any place to start. Plus a nice big sprawling luxury resort like the Kempinski was used to their fair share of strange American tourists.

  And his group couldn’t get much stranger.

  They all looked like they’d played a game of hockey against the NHL and taken a few sticks to the face.

  “Sarge?” Davidson asked.

  “Yeah, sorry,” Brandt apologized since he hadn’t heard the last ten sentences Davidson said.

  The younger man pointed to the screen of some random laptop they’d acquired in their journey from Slovenia to here. “As I was saying, the Knot...”

  Brandt waited, but Davidson’s face screwed up into a grimace, accentuating his tapestry of scars.

  “The Knot?” Brandt prompted. The word wanted to stick in Brandt’s craw too, but if Davidson had any information from the organization that had hounded and hunted them down last year, Brandt would take it. He was fucking tired of being blindsided by that Disciple bitch.

  Davidson cleared his throat. “During my time with them, I never heard of the Disciples of Moshe, however there were rumors of The Chosen. A group that predated the Knot.” Davidson absently licked where his lip should have been before continuing. “A group that the Knot was actually afraid of, but I’d assumed them to be like the boogeyman, made up to keep members in line.”

  Apparently Davidson was grossly mistaken, given the number of bullets that had been fired at them since London. The Chosen were as real and dangerous as the Knot had believed.

  “Anything more specific than ‘the Chosen will get you if you don’t eat your spinach’?” Brandt asked.

  “My father...I mean Petir,” Davidson corrected.

  Brandt felt, just a little, for the kid. He’d been picked up by the Knot after being abandoned by his birth mother at a church in Baltimore. Davidson had never known any other life than that the Knot showed him. How could you not call somebody father after being raised by him for two decades?

  “Tok...” Davidson stated and then stalled again.

  Now that name, the name of the man who had ordered the execution of Svengurd, that name made Brandt’s jaw clench. Even a year later Brandt could see the startled look on his point man’s face as a bullet made a hole in his forehead.

  That same bastard who kidnapped Rebecca had been Davidson’s “brother.” Talk about a fucked-up family tree. The struggle to separate his love for the “brother” from the horrible actions of a religious terrorist was clear on Davidson’s face.

  Would Brandt have turned out any differently from the private if he’d been raised by a bunch of fanatics? And not just fanatics, but fanatics descended from a millennia-old cult? That was some serious baggage.

  “He did what?” Brandt asked, avoiding speaking the bastard’s name. He couldn’t do that without some serious hostility behind it.

  “When we were children, Petir was chiding Tok for something,” Davidson continued, “invoking the Chosen, but Tok challenged him. Demanded that Petir prove the Chosen existed.”

  “And did he?”

  Davidson pointed to the laptop showing a picture of a previous king of Jordan, Abdullah I bin al-Hussein. “Petir told Tok
once he crossed to the afterlife, to ask King Abdullah of the Chosen’s power if Tok did not believe him.”

  Brandt scanned Abdullah’s biography. The king had been instrumental in helping the British in World War I and had encouraged his Arab neighbors to enter into a peace treaty with Israel. It looked from all accounts that his assassination had been politically motivated to keep that peace accord from ever happening.

  “I don’t see how this has anything to do with the Disciples,” Brandt commented.

  “Look at the date,” Davidson urged.

  July 20, 1951. Besides Hank Williams being a pretty big hit back then, Brandt drew a blank.

  Davidson switched the screen to reveal the history of the Dead Seas Scrolls. They were “discovered” between 1947 and 1956. Abdullah’s assassination fell right in the middle of those dates. But it still didn’t make much sense. A lot of things had happened between 1947 and 1956.

  “When Tok pressed Petir about Abdullah, he just shrugged and said that one had to have stood by the king’s side to know the truth.”

  “I’m lost,” Brandt admitted.

  Before Davidson could answer, Lopez came over the intercom. “If everyone could please take their seats, we will be landing shortly.” Brandt turned back to the private, but the corporal wasn’t done. “And to make sure that I have the same landing difficulty as in Slovenia, I will be placing a blindfold.”

  “Lopez,” Brandt growled.

  “Fine. I will only close one eye. So buckle up.”

  Brandt complied, indicating for Davidson to do the same. Whatever point the kid was trying to make, they would find out at the hotel. If they made it that far as the plane bucked and bounced on the landing.

  Rebecca let the last rays of the sun bake down on her skin. The Dead Sea lay before them, twinkling a dark blue. The shoreline was encrusted with bright white salt. A tourist floated in the water, buoyed by the sea’s high salt content. Hence why the sea was “dead.” Very little if anything could grow in its briny waters. Across the calm sea lay Israel. If only relations between the Arab world and the Jewish nation could be so tranquil.