by Dirk Patton
He looked at me for nearly a minute, thinking about what I’d said before asking another question.
“Why do you think they haven’t already gone in? They have people capable of doing what you’re talking about.”
“At the moment, they don’t have the proper motivation,” I said. “Don’t misunderstand me. Given an opportunity, they’d probably put a bullet in Barinov’s head, but they’re worried about the nerve agent. As long as they don’t do anything, their families are safe. Or they think they are. It’s hard to take a risk this big unless you don’t have another option. There isn’t one, but they don’t know that, so they’re sitting back and seeing where things go.”
“Interesting,” the Admiral said, stripping his cigarette butt. “My experts are telling me the Australians are cowed. That they’re going to continue cooperating with the Russians.”
“With all due respect, sir, your experts are full of shit. Australians aren’t that different from Americans. Similar history and values. I’m sure they’re right about the politicians, and probably even a small portion of the population, but the men I know are busy sharpening their knives. Waiting for the right moment. They just need to be shown that moment is now. Guaranteed.”
“Given this a lot of thought, Major?” he asked.
“Some, sir,” I said.
“I won’t ask if you were just biding your time. Looking for a way to accompany my men, then ditch them when you got there and do it your way.”
“Thank you for not asking, sir,” I said, grinning.
He shook his head and thumbed another cigarette out of his pack, handing it to me.
“Back to my earlier question,” he said as he lit up. “What about your eye? How effective are you going to be once you’re inside?”
“It’s a concern.” I grudgingly admitted. “But I can manage it. I’m already getting used to it.”
“I talked to your doctor late last night,” the Admiral said, surprising me. “He says he can remove the fragment robotically. Basically, an outpatient procedure. You’ll be down for a couple of days at the most.”
“Yes, sir. That’s what he told me. Don’t have the time.”
Packard stretched his back and stared at the harbor for a long time. I could tell he was trying to reach a decision. The only question was whether I was about to get arrested and confined to quarters, or if he was going to roll the dice and unleash me on Barinov. Either way, I was going to Australia. No one was going to stop me.
“Here’s the deal, Major,” he finally said. “You go to the hospital. This morning. Now. Have the surgery. If it’s successful, we’ll know in a day or two, and I’ll approve your plan. If it’s not, someone other than you will be the one to go into Barinov’s building. We cannot risk failure because of your limitations. Do I have your word that you will abide by my decision and act in a liaison role with the Australians if the surgery does not restore your sight?”
He had turned on the bench to stare at me as he spoke. I met his eyes, surprised, but also hesitant to give up the opportunity to personally kill Barinov. What swayed me was something Commander Sherman had said the previous day. I wasn’t the only one who’d lost people he loved.
“You have my word, sir,” I finally said without looking away.
The Admiral watched me closely for several seconds before smiling and clapping me on the knee.
“Captain Black,” he shouted. “The Major needs a ride to the hospital.”
10
Anna was resting, trying to save her strength for when an opportunity to escape presented itself. She had successfully, for the most part, compartmented the part of her body that was crying for food and water. Having experienced this before, she knew that the deprivation was weakening her body, but at least she was able to sleep. And it really hadn’t been that long. Had it?
She’d lost track of time with nothing other than blank walls to stare at. Her father had done a good job with the design of the bunker, knowing that it was important for humans to maintain their circadian rhythm. Throughout, the lighting was computer controlled to simulate the beginning and end of a day. Clocks were prominent, as were electronic calendars. These design features had helped with the long months spent underground, but only to a degree.
The infirmary was one of the few locations within the bunker that wasn’t connected to the system. Wisely, he had decided that if the lights were on, it probably meant someone was being treated. The last thing one of the medics would need was for the overheads to suddenly dim during a delicate procedure. But as she’d lain there, Anna couldn’t understand the absence of a clock. Perhaps it was an oversight, or maybe there was a legitimate reason.
So, she lay there and napped when she could. Other than dwell on her situation, there wasn’t anything else to do. One thing she’d taken away from SERE training was to be ready. To always be looking for an opening, no matter how small or difficult it might seem.
She was awake, drifting in her own thoughts when the scrape of a key in a lock snapped her to full alertness. The door opened and a bearded face looked into the room. It was Greg, one of William’s sycophants. Anna recognized him, but had never spent any time speaking with him. Despite that, she had an impression that he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.
“Stinks in here,” he said, scrunching up his nose.
“I had to go to the bathroom,” Anna said in a calm, apologetic voice. “I have to go again. Can you help me?”
“William wouldn’t like that,” the man said. “He’s the one that tied you up, I ain’t gonna mess with that.”
He quickly backed out and closed the door before Anna could ask for a drink. With a sigh, she stared at the knob as she listened to him locking the deadbolt. Looking at the ceiling, she tried to think of what she knew about Greg. But there was nothing there. He had just been one of the many that had belonged to the group William had led.
Where was William? That thought made her wrinkle her forehead in concentration. Was he not here, or was he sleeping? If he had left, where could he have possibly gone? For that matter, what the hell was he doing with her? She could understand if he’d taken out his anger on her for the deaths of most of his people, but being tied to a gurney and ignored didn’t make sense.
After a while, Anna drifted into a state somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Her mind roamed, thinking about Sean, her deceased husband. They were walking beside a gently flowing river, hand in hand, when she came alert. It was the deadbolt being released again.
Greg looked in. Apparently, he was supposed to be checking on her for William. He stared for a moment then started to close the door.
“Wait! Please!” Anna called before it was completely shut. “I need water. Please! I haven’t had anything to drink and I’m feeling sick.”
Greg didn’t say anything, just continued to peer at her through the mostly closed door.
“Please, Greg. Help me,” she said, forcing a pleading tone into her voice. “I need water. That must be okay with William. He wouldn’t want me to get sick, would he?”
She held the man’s eyes with hers, willing him to step into the room. For a moment, she thought he was going to, then with a sudden shake of his head he jerked the door shut and locked it. Anna struggled to contain the scream of frustration that threatened to erupt from her mouth.
Anger coursed through her and it took a supreme effort of will to not allow herself to succumb to emotion. Breathing deeply, she fixed her gaze on an imperfection in a ceiling tile and stared at it. Slowly, her heart rate slowed and the feelings of desperation began to recede.
Her head shot up when the lock scraped again, the door opening to reveal Greg. This time, he held a large water bottle in his hand, but wasn’t coming into the room. He was hesitating, perhaps afraid of William’s reaction. Standing in the hall, he stared back at her and remained silent.
“Thank you, Greg! Thank you,” Anna said, forcing herself to smile.
Haltingly, he stepped across t
he threshold, stopping well short of the gurney.
“I could get in trouble,” he finally said, looking like he was preparing to bolt out of the room.
“Not for helping me!” Anna said quickly before he could run. “William will thank you! I know he’s busy and he must have forgotten about me. He wouldn’t want me to get sick!”
“Told me to check on ya. Make sure you was breathing. Didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout water,” Greg said in a voice that was reminiscent of a petulant child.
“Right!” Anna cried, seeing an opening. “And you know what will happen to me without water. I could die, Greg! So, you’re doing what William wants. Keeping me alive!”
The man stood motionless for a long time, considering her argument. She could see him trying to work out the connection between water and her not breathing and realized he was even less intelligent than her original impression. She was debating with herself the wisdom of continuing to try and convince him when he suddenly moved forward and held the bottle up.
Anna tilted her head as far forward as possible while Greg held the water to her lips. She drank deeply, pausing to breathe through her nose without taking her lips from the bottle for fear it would be withdrawn.
“Thank you, Greg,” she said with a genuine smile when she had drained the bottle dry. “You saved my life!”
The man blushed and looked away, unable to meet her eyes. Anna had been an early bloomer, with boys chasing her since the seventh grade, and she immediately recognized that Greg was infatuated with her. That could be to her advantage, as long as she didn’t overplay her hand.
“Thank you so much,” she said. “You really did save me! I don’t know how much longer I could have gone without water. You’re a really good man, Greg.”
He blushed harder and looked at her face with quick glances as if he were trying to determine if she was sincere.
“Can I ask for another small favor? Please?”
“I can’t do nothin’ else,” he responded quickly, but didn’t move away from the gurney.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Anna said, twisting against her bonds to reinforce the urgency. “I’ve already had to go in my pants, and I really don’t want to do that again. My quarters are only two doors down. Please, Greg! Just a quick bathroom break and some clean pants. I promise I’ll behave. I owe you for the water!”
“No, no, no…” he said, shaking his head. “William would be mad if I let you go!”
He started to step away, stopping when Anna spoke again.
“I’m not asking you to let me go!” she said. “Just the bathroom and dry clothes, then I’ll come right back and you put the restraints back on. I couldn’t escape from you, anyway. You’re much too strong for me.”
Greg stared at her, and once again she could see the laborious decision making process taking place behind his eyes. This time, she decided to try and give it a nudge.
“No one will know,” she said. “It’ll only take a minute, then I’ll be right back here like nothing ever happened. Please, Greg! You’re a standup guy, giving me that water. I just want to pee in a toilet like a lady and get clean so I don’t have to smell myself. Stinks pretty bad, doesn’t it?”
He stared at her for nearly a full minute in silence. She saw the moment he made his decision, then her heart dropped when he quickly moved to the door. But instead of leaving, he poked his head out and looked both ways, before hurrying back to the gurney.
“If you try anythin’, I’ll have to hit you,” he said as he released the first strap. “William would be pissed for sure if’n he knew I was doin’ this. No messing ‘round. Piss, change clothes then back in here. Okay?”
One strap was free and he paused with his hand on the second one, waiting for her answer.
“I promise! Thank you, Greg!”
He quickly released all the straps, then had to help her to her feet. After too many hours being flat on her back, she was a little unsteady. Anna smiled brightly, placing her hand on his arm. He blushed again, then urged her to hurry.
“Gotta move,” he said. “Don’t know when William’s coming back and we’re both in trouble if he catches us.”
Anna nodded and led the way to her quarters. Stepping through the door, she started to close it but Greg blocked it with his arm.
“Not leavin’ you alone.”
“Okay,” Anna said, heading for the cramped bathroom.
He followed closely, but this time he was content to allow her some privacy. He stood facing the closed door with arms crossed over his chest. Anna hadn’t been lying about her need for a restroom, and quickly relieved herself. Removing the soiled clothing, she put on a robe that was hanging from a hook on the inside of the door before opening it.
Greg was waiting for her and took a couple of steps away as she opened her closet. Flipping through several garments that were on hangers, she shifted her body to block his view of what she was doing with her right hand. Early on, even before they’d realized they had a problem with William and his militia, Nitro had invited himself into her quarters and secreted away several weapons in a variety of locations. One of those was on the inside of the tiny closet’s door.
He secured a leather slide holster to the vertical surface with several lengths of duct tape, slipping a sound suppressed pistol in once it was secure. Anna fumbled for it briefly as she kept her eyes focused on the clothes she was rifling through. Feeling the butt of the weapon, she wrapped her hand around it, drawing it smoothly and silently.
Stepping away from the closet, she pivoted quickly and moved as far away from Greg as she could in the cramped quarters, bringing the muzzle in line with his chest. His eyes flew wide, mouth dropping open in shock.
“You lied!” he cried, sounding genuinely hurt and disappointed as he took a step forward.
“Stop!” Anna shouted. “I don’t want to hurt you, Greg. You’ve been nice to me. All I want is for you to go to the infirmary and I’ll tie you up.”
“No! William will hurt me if I let you go!”
He started to take another step and Anna shouted a warning as her other hand came up to brace her gun hand.
“Greg, don’t!” she cried again.
He frowned in anger and lunged.
11
I blinked, trying to focus on the world around me, but didn’t have the energy to try very hard. It took me several minutes to remember where I was and why I was so tired. There was a rustle of fabric and a young woman wearing scrubs appeared in my field of view.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Okay,” I mumbled, my tongue thick and stiff.
“That’s the anesthesia,” she said, apparently recognizing what I was experiencing. “It will pass fast.”
“Evathing good?” I asked, earning a smile from her.
“The doctor will be in shortly,” she said. “Just rest.”
I think I nodded, then drifted back into unconsciousness. Then voices woke me, and I opened my eye when a cool hand was placed on the side of my face. Rachel leaned in and looked at me. She wasn’t smiling.
“I’m going to kick your ass for not telling me,” she whispered, gently kissing the side of my face.
At first, I didn’t understand why she was dressed in scrubs with a stethoscope around her neck, but I was a little more with it this time and memories came flooding in.
“I wuv you,” I said, trying to smile, but I think all that happened was I drooled.
“Not good enough, asshole,” she said, smiling this time. “For now, take it easy. We’ll talk about your communication skills when you’re better.”
I was feeling more alert, but I also had a hell of a headache. With help from Rachel and the nurse, I managed to sit up in the bed and slowly look around. I must have been in what was a recovery room, several other beds spaced around the perimeter, but at the moment I was the only patient. The nurse extended a plastic cup of water with a bendy straw and I took slow sips.
“How are you feelin
g?”
I looked up and saw the doctor standing over me.
“Head hurts,” I said, squinting in pain.
“As it should,” he said. “You just had two surgical instruments inserted behind your eye. Let me have a look.”
He stepped closer and gently removed a thick bandage that covered the left half of my face. I was hoping I’d at least be able to see some light when it came off, but there was nothing. Leaning close, he held an instrument in front of my eye and peered through it.
“Well?” I asked, feeling more like my normal, cranky self.
He finished the examination and straightened up, handing the instrument to the nurse.
“I removed the fragment. It was pressing on the optic nerve. There was no visible damage, but that doesn’t really mean anything. Nerves can be damaged and without an MRI, it’s impossible to tell. Even then, it’s not always accurate.”
“So, do an MRI,” I said.
“Can’t. There’s another fragment in there, near your sinuses. It shouldn’t cause you any problems and it would be a major surgery to remove it.”
“So?” I asked.
“MRIs use very strong magnets,” he said. “Strong enough to tear that fragment right out of your skull. You wouldn’t want to experience that.”
“You sure it’s not part of the copper jacket from a bullet?” I asked. “Copper’s non-magnetic.”
“No. Are you sure it isn’t steel? Want to find out the hard way?”
“Good point,” I grumbled. “How long before I’ll know if I can see?”