by Sara Schoen
As I neared the building, I caught sight of a couple of agents fighting hand-to-hand. A few seemed to be handling themselves well, others were calling in for assistance and receiving whatever the other agents could give them. I shot at the cartel members once I joined the other agents. They fell without much of a fight, and the agents either collapsed from exhaustion and relief or went on to find the next fight with only a nod in my direction as a quick thank you. Though a few went to rest beside fallen partners and teammates.
I took a step back, reeling from the sight of agents lying on the ground injured, dead, or dying, and knowing there would be more to come. This was my fault, and I had ended the cartel by killing Harley, but now we had another fight to win.
A scream broke through my thoughts, pushing me away from the bodies of my fallen family members and into the building again. I found Valkyrie in almost the same spot I had left her in, but this time she was at the disadvantage. She screamed as a cartel member shot her in the leg again. Judging from the pool of blood beneath her, they had been torturing her by shooting her to cause her pain instead of killing her on the spot. I was about to shoot one of them when one spotted me. I took cover as the cartel member began to fire at me. The metal clanged against the wall beside me while a few ricocheted around the small hallway, but soon I heard the bullets stop.
I tentatively glanced around the wall to see Sandstorm cutting the last one’s throat. He let the body drop once the deed was done and let out a heavy breath before he turned to Valkyrie. He quickly tended to her wounds as best as he could while telling her help was on the way. I didn’t hear her reply as I got up from my hiding spot and rounded the corner in time to see a cartel member approaching with a gun level at Sandstorm’s head. I sunk down into a hidden position and took aim of my own. I leveled my weapon to his leg so he could feel the same pain as Valkyrie. The gun went off and the cartel member fell to the ground.
“Spit Fire,” Sandstorm said, taking notice of me. “Thanks for the save.” He flashed me a smile before turning to the cartel member, who proceeded to beg for his life and ask Sandstorm to have mercy because he was just following orders. I vaguely recognized him from the Sandtown compound when we lost Hess. Pride swelled in me for finally getting one of them back. “Where was the mercy shown for the families you and the cartel killed and tore apart?” Sandstorm questioned, without missing a beat, as medics came in to retrieve Valkyrie.
The cartel member looked between us and the medics before he shook his head. He let his silence answer for him, and once Valkyrie was out of the room, safely on her way to medical assistance, Sandstorm continued. “That’s right, there wasn’t any.” He shot the cartel member again without another word.
It fell silent in the room. Four bodies lay dead in the room, but none of them were CIRA agents. I noticed the sounds of battle outside were waning off and couldn’t help but wonder if CIRA was winning or not. How many friends had we lost to this fight? How many more were injured or would later be forced into retirement? How much blood was on my hands? I was about to answer those questions by stepping outside into the madness when Sandstorm’s voice stopped me.
“Where do you think you’re going, Spit Fire? Why would you torture yourself by seeing how many agents died from this battle? You’ll only blame yourself. Let the medics take care of them while you take some time to come to terms with what happened here. If you don’t, then you’ll never recover from this. You jeopardized lives to save a teammate and even worse, froze in the middle of a fight. What happened to you? I thought you said this wouldn’t be a problem.”
What did happen? I was usually so focused.
“What the hell happened, Spit Fire? What were you thinking going back to help them? You could have gotten killed and then what? They would have died for nothing because Harley would still be alive. So why torture yourself?” Sandstorm questioned, approaching me when I didn’t answer his questions. At this distance I could see in detail the blood covering his face and clothes. He had his gun drawn, ready for another attack, which could come at any moment. He didn’t make a move to put the weapon away as he kicked the rubble out of his path. I half expected him to shoot me for causing so much destruction and death, but instead he only reprimanded me. Maybe he had already experienced too much death for one day and didn’t want to cause another. “We lost a lot of agents because the plan fell apart. We didn’t know what the failsafe was and we weren’t prepared for it. Nothing else.” His green eyes bore into mine to see if I got the message. He must have known it was a lost cause, I would always blame myself for the lives lost here. Even though I knew it had to be done so we could finally defeat the Cardoza Cartel. “What happened out there, Spit Fire? What were you thinking? What was holding you back during the fight?”
“I didn’t mean to.” I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself down. My body shook uncontrollably and my thoughts spun wildly as I wondered who had been lucky enough to make it out alive, if anyone had, and I could do nothing to get myself to relax. I couldn’t believe this happened. It was exactly what I wanted to avoid by coming here alone. If anyone should have died here, it should have been me. Instead, countless agents and mislead civilians were killed. All caused by a man I hated, and now I loathed him more. He took away both sets of families I had and I couldn’t bring either of them back. At least he was gone now. He couldn’t hurt anyone else, and the Cardoza Cartel was finished for good.
The thought didn’t comfort me like I hoped it would. As I looked at the destruction around me and breathed in the smoke, a tear trickled down my cheek. This is all my fault. Another tear fell from my eyelashes and I did nothing to stop it. Everything was catching up to me all at once. Waves of emotion I couldn’t comprehend washed over me and filled me with dread, guilt, and crippling agony. How had everything gone to hell? I had planned meticulously, but this still happened. Could I have done anything to save them? I loud sob escaped my lips as the truth came to light. No, I couldn’t have.
I worked on recomposing myself before I turned to face Sandstorm again. He remained mostly unaffected by the deaths of the agents, most likely because he didn’t know them. He wasn’t attached to them like I was. He didn’t know their lives, skills, or their stories. I knew them, whether in passing, working with them for missions or on teams, or just as agents, and I watched them as they took their final breaths.
“They must have figured out the plan. I saw them stop and then heard the order to return to the compound. Something gave us away,” I finally managed to say between recovering breaths. “We underestimated Harley and he figured us out before we could act. I also wasn’t planning on all these agents being here. They just showed up and weren’t going to leave. They were determined to help and look how that ended.”
Sandstorm shook his head in disappointment, but didn’t say anything. He looked away from me for a moment before he began pacing and talking to himself to figure out what to do next. His cover was blown, but with Harley dead and the last trade link between his group gone he was done; he could finally go home. Though I’m not sure what was left of home with all of these agents gone. The thought resonated with me as Camo and Renegade came running into the room. Night Stripe won’t be far behind. I cringed at the thought. How could I tell her that Rum had lost her life saving me? She looked up to Rum. Rum was her support, her mentor, and overall, her friend. She was everything to Night Stripe.
Camo pulled me into a bone-crushing hug, crying about how happy she was to see me again. “I was so worried when I didn’t see you outside after the fight ended. Siren is caring for as many agents as she can, but I don’t know if they’ll make it. Everyone left is calling for medical evacuations and helping to provide any care they can while we wait.”
I hugged her back, squeezing her tightly as she cried on my shoulder. I didn’t know what to say, and even if I did I wouldn’t have been able to speak. All I could do was hold her and cry with her.
“Spit Fire, are you okay?” Renegade asked, pl
acing his hand on my shoulder. He accepted the curt nod I gave him even though he could see the tears staining my face. He opened his mouth to say something else, but his eyes darted to my right. I followed his gaze as he took in Sandstorm to determine if he was a friend or a foe. “Who are you?”
“I’m an undercover agent from the Middle East following the weapons trade. With war brewing over there, and where anything can be a tipping point to instigate another one, I try to cut off as many ties to cartels as possible to help prevent another war where our men die.” His response was cold; he didn’t even look in Renegade’s direction as he spoke. Instead, he kept his eyes level with mine. “Spit Fire has met me before and she’s assisted me in bringing down this cartel for good. My job is done, as is hers. Thank you for coming when you did. We lost enough people as is so I’m glad to see some of us are still standing.”
Anger flashed in Renegade’s eyes as he opened his mouth to tell off Sandstorm, but he was cut off when Night Stripe entered the room and Sandstorm turned his back on him. “There you guys are. Did you leave me outside to finish off the last few cartel members by myself on purpose? It must be my birthday and I forgot. Not that it matters, because I gave myself the gift of getting rid of them. I even ran into one of the men I left behind in Georgia. Shockingly he wasn’t as excited to see me as I was to see him again, but oh well, he’s gone now.”
I turned to see her walking toward Renegade’s side, coated in blood, dirt, and sweat, but with a smile plastered on her face as she looked over her friends, injured and in pain, but alive. Renegade gave her a thumbs up, and Camo, now recovered from her emotional high of seeing me alive and well, moved from me to Night Stripe. Night Stripe opened her arms gratefully, even as Camo rubbed off some of the dirt from her hands onto Night Stripe’s shirt with a playful smile on her face. She pushed Camo away from her, laughing at her friend’s antics, before she turned to me. She smiled brightly at me as she approached, most likely to hug me as well, but her smile vanished quickly when her eyes landed on Sandstorm, who was now standing behind me.
Her lips twitched as if holding back a cry. Her hands flew up to her mouth to cover the whimper that escaped her lips as her eyes began to glisten. I watched in confusion as tears welled up in her eyes. A mix of emotions clashed over her features, one unable to overpower the others. Confusion, desperation, and pain flashed in her eyes in rapid succession as she looked over him. I glanced toward him, but he was typing away on his phone, most likely talking with Sharp Shooter and too busy to pay attention to the scene unfolding in front of him. He hadn’t seen her expression change to pure disbelief before she fell to her knees and began to cry. Her sobs were so powerful that they shook her small frame to the core.
Renegade rushed to her as Camo and I stood frozen, taken back by the sudden show of emotions. Night Stripe had kept up an impenetrable wall throughout her years at the agency, and it had suddenly exploded to pieces.
“Night Stripe,” Renegade cooed softly as he looked her over as best as he could. He didn’t attempt to move her from her position, but she crashed to his chest a moment later. “Tell me what’s wrong. Are you hurt? Did you get injured during the fight? Where’s the pain? Do I need to call someone to have a medic look over you?”
Night Stripe didn’t respond. All she managed was a strangled cry. This is how I expected her to act when she heard the news about Rum; unable to respond from crying hysterically. What had brought this on? I couldn’t see any blood to indicate a deep wound. She looked roughed up, but nothing bad enough to explain the wailing cries.
“Please tell me what’s wrong,” Renegade begged, his voice tight with worry. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
“Spit Fire, I thought you said the agents you worked with were excellent. Yet all I’ve seen is sloppy work and crying. Why the hell is she crying?” Sandstorm questioned, finally putting his phone away. “Can she not handle a fight? Is she a rookie or something? Seriously, this is a job. It’s not for the faint of heart. Did she not get the memo when she joined?”
I turned to face him with Camo mimicking my actions. I could feel her anger radiating off of her. I didn’t have to look for the body language to give it away: clenched fists, locked jaw, teeth grit together, and the way her eyebrows pushed down. She had always stood up for Night Stripe since she was the one who’d given her another chance at life. Night Stripe had believed in her and given her a second chance while Camo had given her a chance for revenge. She’d defend Night Stripe with her last breath if needed, because if she hadn’t saved her, Camo would already be dead, but I beat her to the punch this time.
“Night Stripe’s an amazing agent and always has been. She’s gone through enough suicide missions in the last three years to last a lifetime and she chooses to do them to save others! She stood up to the man who took her family from her and planned to kill even more people as a hired hit man. She’s risked her life for her teammates and never thought twice about it. She has never once fallen apart even as agents died around her in battle. She didn’t break down until she saw you. What did you do to her?”
“Me?” Sandstorm opened his arms in disbelief. “I’ve never met her before. I haven’t been in the States in almost eight years, when would I have had a chance to meet her? If what you’re saying is true and she’s only been in the agency for three years, then I can’t know her! I would’ve only heard about her in stories and updates from CIRA while I’ve been overseas.”
“You have to know her,” Camo interjected. “Look at her. No one breaks down like that for nothing. Just look at her for a second! Give her a chance.”
Sandstorms eyes darted to Night Stripe’s shaking figure. She couldn’t meet his eyes at first, but Renegade nudged her slightly as encouragement. Their eyes met after a few tense moments, and at first his eyes glared into her as if annoyed she was still crying after I had spoken so highly of her, but slowly realization washed over his face. His eyes lit up and a ghost of a smile curved his lips upwards before he slowly approached her as if he was worried rushing to her would scare her away.
I saw Renegade tense and prepare to step in front of her if he had to. Night Stripe must have told him it was okay because he slowly released her as Sandstorm kneeled down to her level. Her tears didn’t subside even as Sandstorm took her face in his hands and raised her head to once again meet his emerald gaze. Her blue eyes were tinted red from crying, but she held her head high. She took in a deep breath before attempting to talk, but for some reason couldn’t muster the words that seemed to sit just at the tip of her tongue.
It broke my heart.
Sandstorm looked her over in disbelief, and I wanted to ask how they knew each other, but didn’t want to interrupt. It was clear that he meant something to her. Whether she had seen him on a mission before or in her past life I couldn’t be sure.
“I can’t believe it,” he said, finally breaking the silence. His voice was whimsical and disbelieving. “I can’t...” He took in a sharp breath to control his emotions. Now it seemed as if he suddenly understood Night Stripe’s rush of emotions, which he had carelessly said made her weak and subpar as an agent. “You’re alive.” He cried softly, before recovering quickly. “I can’t believe it. You’re alive! You’re actually here, crying and breathing. I can’t believe it. They told me you were dead. I was told I lost everyone in the crash, my sisters and parents were gone and I was alone. How are you alive? How long have you been here? What happened to you, Sara?”
Night Stripe let out a cry before she lunged at him and hugged him tightly. Sandstorm hugged her back, stroking her hair as she cried on his chest, while we stared at them in confusion. His recruitment story was a car crash, but he told me it was with friends after a night of drinking. Why would he lie about that? Was the truth just too painful to handle for him?
“I thought I lost you, Grant,” she cried. “I lost all of them. You didn’t make it! You died at the hospital after James saved us. You never made it out of sur
gery. You died and I was all alone.” Another agonizing cry broke from her lips.
“Shh, it’s okay. It’s all going to be okay now. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere ever again without you knowing I’ll come back for you.”
“I went to your funeral!” she cried as she shoved him away from her suddenly. Her anger catching up with the rest of her emotions. I knew it had only been a matter of time. “I watched your casket be put to rest right next to our parents! I was adopted by the man who saved us. I suffered in silence because I couldn’t begin to explain to anyone what it felt like to lose a whole family and be forced to continue on without them. Where were you? Where the hell have you been?”
Sandstorm brushed off his stunned expression easily after Night Stripe’s sudden change in personality. Honestly, I couldn’t blame her for being upset with him even a little bit. She had been alone, but so had he. She thought everyone is her family was dead and while I hadn’t made the connection before due to the change in recruitment story, Sandstorm had been the same way. He thought he lost his entire family in a car accident, but he had never once mentioned Ash Crest to me. He hadn’t gone looking for the person who caused the accident, because maybe he truly believed it was an accident, unlike Night Stripe. He had accepted it and tried to move on, while Sara had to avenge her family. Now she had one of them back. He was her brother, and he had taken the job in the Middle East all those years ago to escape it all, just as she took the job to escape her old life. They were the same, but so very different.
“I wasn’t at the funeral. Any of them. I couldn’t go, and even if I hadn’t taken a mission right after I was pulled from the hospital, I still wouldn’t have gone. There’s no way I would have been able to handle it all and that’s exactly what I told Sharp Shooter. That’s why he sent me overseas and I haven’t been back since.” He paused for a moment, letting the tension drift away before he continued. “I don’t know how you managed to sit through the funerals, and then continue living. If it wasn’t for this job, I wouldn’t still be here.”