“Hello, Chambers family,” Maxwell said as he approached the group. “Nice to see everyone’s here for the big day. Are you looking forward to seeing your daddy shine like a star today?” He asked Chase, reaching to pinch a cheek.
Chase grunted disapprovingly, and hid his face in his mother’s shoulder.
“Ah, Chase, don’t be so shy,” Lisa kidded him. “You know Maxwell. He’s one of Daddy’s best friends. He’s invited us all to come and see the horses today. That’s pretty nice of him, isn’t it?”
Chase’s muffled whine indicated he had no intention of playing nice with Maxwell.
“Don’t worry about it,” Maxwell said, smiling. “Kids take a while to warm up to me.” Maxwell looked up. “It’s going to be a great day for a rodeo, hey, Dawson?”
“You know me, Max. It’s always a great day for a rodeo,” Dawson said. “Did you find out which horse I’ll be riding today?”
“They haven’t released the lists yet, but there’s a managers meeting in half an hour, and we should have everything then. You going to join me?”
“Ah, no. You know me. I like to stay down here till the last possible moment. Helps me prepare. I trust you to make sure there aren’t any problems.”
“Absolutely, that’s what I’m here for. I’m sure they’ll have things all sorted out.”
“You just make sure my star here gets a shot at getting some good rides in today. Everyone’s going to be watching to see how the wonder kid makes out in his debut performance,” Lisa said.
“You betcha. He’s my star performer as well. I’ve been waiting a long time for this day. How long have we been together now, Dawson?”
“You know very well how long, Max. Ever since you spotted me at my first ten-year-old rodeo.”
“Yeah, I remember, I just like to hear you say it. It’s endearing to know how much I mean to you after all this time.” Maxwell gave a sly grin.
“We know why you’re really excited today, Maxwell,” Lisa piped up. “Now that Dawson is officially a senior, you finally start making a commission.”
“Now come on, Lisa,” Dawson said. “Max is like family, no need to talk like that.”
“You guys are all like family to me,” Max added. “Not just you, Dawson. Little Chase too, even though he doesn’t know it yet.” Maxwell tried unsuccessfully to tickle Chase again.
“I think Chase here had his eyes on some cotton candy back there. We’re gonna go see if there’s any left before the show starts,” Lisa said.
She leaned in along with Chase to give Dawson a hug and kiss. “Do us proud today, hon. We’ll be cheering you on.” Touching Maxwell on the shoulder, she said, “You make sure our star here is well taken care of today. Nothing but the best horses for my man.”
Maxwell smiled back. “I’ll do everything I can. You can count on me.”
They both watched Lisa set Chase down as they made their way back to the concession booths. Maxwell gave Dawson a nervous smile, and said, “I need to talk with you about the events today.”
“Sure thing. What’s up?”
“There were some late additions yesterday to the bulls scheduled. A few got sick, and they had transport problems with replacements from the Missouri rodeo last weekend.”
“OK. No big deal, right? The job is still the same.”
“Yeah, I just wanted to give you a heads up. We’d picked this rodeo because it was small. Not a lot of big animals, and a pretty easy start for your senior career. We wanted some challenging rides for you, but nothing too crazy.”
“I’m always up for a challenge. Besides, the animals love me. You know that. What could possibly go wrong at a rodeo?”
“I figured you’d be fine with it. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Lisa, but there are some pretty strong animals coming in today. Some of the bulls have a reputation on the circuit.”
“Lisa’s a trooper, you don’t have to worry about her. Whatever gets me up on that winner’s podium sooner.”
“Oh yeah. I know. She’s your biggest cheerleader. Look, though. I wouldn’t have picked these animals for your first time with the big boys, but now that they’re coming, I think we should make the most of it. Which animals you get is the luck of the draw. I’m not worried about the horses, but the bulls are not your strongest event.”
“You’re not doubting me now, are you? Lisa wouldn’t approve,” Dawson added with a grin.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I have no doubt about your abilities, but Lisa isn’t the one out there. You are. I just want you to be fully aware of what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I do, and I thank you. I wouldn’t be here without everything you’ve done.”
“All right. No need to get all mushy on me now. You need to cowboy up, son. Today is the start of a great career. I can feel it. And, it’s not just about all that big prize money for me.”
“Of course, I know that. Don’t mind Lisa, she was just joking.”
“You don’t actually believe that, do you?” Maxwell smiled. “You know that girl decided she was going to be the wife of a rodeo star when she was twelve years old.”
“Ah, c’mon. Little girls don’t think like that.”
“Cowboy, you may know a lot about horses, but you still got a lot to learn about women. And life in general. I’m gonna head over to the managers meeting, to keep an eye on things. Good luck today, and I’ll see you on the winner’s podium.”
Dawson flashed a smile as he walked back to the stables.
Senior rodeos were far tougher than Dawson thought. The judges were reluctant to hand out big numbers to the new kid, no matter how good he was. Dawson had a great day of riding, and was looking forward to the last ride of the day. To crack the big prize money today was still within reach, but it would take a flawless last ride. He’d never admit it to anyone, but the bulls made him a bit nervous. The horses he loved. He always felt like he had a connection with them. There was something behind the eyes of a horse that he could relate to. A kindred spirit. They had an understanding. The bulls though, not so much. Behind those eyes, it was empty. They always seemed just a little pissed off. Dawson made his way to the bull staging area. The bull in the first stall had a blanket draped over it with tattered lettering that read Apocalypso. Great name Dawson thought, as he walked past.
Chapter 2 ~ Isolation
The house on the edge of the desert only looked like it had been deserted a long time ago. The front porch was sinking into the sands and pulling the front of the house with it. Someone’s idea of nouveau exterior decorating had been to place the old passenger seat from a 1972 Ford Pinto on the porch to give the house an eclectic but not too trendy appearance. The seat was complete with armrests, headrest, faux-leather sides, and striped upholstery with alternating desert shading. At least the decorator had the sense to try and keep the color scheme in tune with the environment. The porch roof had rotted and blown away years ago, while the sun hadn’t done the seat any favors. There were a pair of matching tires lying against the foundations of the house, and one had to wonder if they were there by happenstance, or if the original decorator was paying lip service to his aesthetic attraction of automotive themes; perhaps with a sense of irony, because the tires were not from a 1972 Ford Pinto. Realistically though, they were probably just dumped there because the garage was full.
The rest of the house barely fared much better, though at least the main roof was still intact. It didn’t look inhabitable, except for the one brand new window and frame in the upper level. The window was conspicuous with its startling white vinyl frame that shone in the sun. The rest of the window frames and house were made of wood that matched the rusted brown color of the sand. The harsh environment had done its best to blend the home into the landscape, as if trying to merge them into one.
There was a gate at the beginning of the pathway leading up to the house. It seemed ridiculous, standing all alone with no fence to go with it. Just a gate swinging haphazardly on the canted post that
still held it up. Had the fence blown away with the porch roof, or was it never built? It looked abandoned. Should one observe proper etiquette and open the gate before walking down the path, or just walk around it? Not many people walked the path, but those who did rarely gave it much thought—they simply walked around. It’s human nature after all to take shortcuts. It’s not lazy, not really; it’s simple efficiency. Most people have better things to do than walk through mysterious, abandoned gates.
Ahmed walked out the front door, and stood on the porch for a moment. He paid no heed to the 1972 Ford Pinto seat, or the unmatched tires. His sense of aesthetics was utterly absent. He walked off the porch and down the path and paused at the gate. It squeaked in the wind, and each time it did Ahmed winced. He made a mental note to find the oil can when he returned home. Looking around, he had a sense that the storm would strengthen as the day went on, and smiled. Mother Earth was on his side again. He opened the gate, and walked through, then carefully secured the gate in a locked position, lessening the squeaking. Ahmed then proceeded along the imaginary property line where the fence should have been to the tarp-covered motorcycle. He placed his helmet on, knowing he’d need the face visor to protect him from the approaching storm. After checking his provisions, he mounted the bike and headed into the desert. He was aware of the distant vehicles following him, but gave them little consideration.
Chapter 3 ~ Counter Intelligence
August, 2015
Traipsing through the desert in full battle gear wasn’t much better in the dead of night than in the afternoon sun. The heat was much more tolerable, but the tension increased. Night vision goggles were great when they worked, but the damn sand got into everything, and always seemed to affect whatever equipment was most important at the moment. In this case, seeing where they were going was crucial.
“These damn buildings all look the same. It’s like I’m back in the ghetto at home,” Jackson complained. “If I wanted to skulk around a ghetto, I’d have stayed at home working for Curly Fries Inc. Join the army, they said. See the world. Have the adventure of a lifetime. Yeah, great. Hunting down crazies is not exactly my idea of adventure.”
“Cut the chatter,” came the order from the sergeant ahead.
Jackson lowered his voice, but continued anyways. “Nobody’s listening, it’s the middle of the damn night. Who cares what building we take out? I’m sure they’re all full of some psycho that badmouthed the USA. It’s not like we’re going to catch the big enchilada, not with the guys in charge of this outfit. We’re lucky to make it back to base each night in one piece. Fucking amateurs.”
“The sergeant said to keep it down, man. None of us want to be out in this mess, and your constant whining isn’t helping things. Tonight's different. This isn't like the other night raids. They have someone specific—someone big,” Dawson said.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. They always say that. The sergeant is a fucking glory hunter. His old man and his old man’s old man were both decorated vets. He thinks it’s the damn family business or something. I’ve listened to enough war stories about his family. He’s lucky to have made it to sergeant without getting all of us killed. Did you hear what happened to the last detail he had before us?”
“Just rumors, nothing for sure,” Dawson answered.
“Yeah, well, I’ve got confirmation. You know that hot blonde that works in the records and communications office?”
“Ah c’mon, man, don’t even try to tell me you got with her, and she’s spilled classified secrets during pillow talk.”
“Don’t be like that, dude. No, I haven’t been with her, at least not yet. But there’s time; it’s gonna be a long fucking war, haven’t you heard?”
“Yea, maybe for you, if you keep pissing off your commanding officers. I’m going home, just as soon as my tour is done. I’ve got kids to get back home to, and hopefully a wife.”
“Ha.” Jackson elbowed Dawson. “Little bit of trouble on the home front is there?”
Dawson pushed him back. “Shut up. The only problem we’re having is that I’m not home where I should be. She's just pissed that I signed up in the first place. Not like I had that many options anyway. If I—”
The sergeant interrupted the both of them. “If you two girls can’t learn to shut the hell up on a covert mission, then I’ll have you both court-martialed for stupidity.”
Both Dawson and Jackson answered, “Yes, sir!” as quietly and respectfully as possible.
The sergeant continued, “This is the building; the one across the street. Our target is on the third floor. Intelligence says there won’t be anyone on the first floor, but we’re to keep a watch out for surveillance equipment. Cameras, infrared lights, or booby traps are all a possibility.”
“Yes, sir,” Jackson replied, then added smugly, “We covered this during the mission brief.”
“Yeah, and given the lack of focus I’ve seen so far tonight from you maggots, I figured a refresher was in order. You got a problem with that, soldier?”
“No, sir,” Jackson answered. The rest of the troop nodded in agreement.
The sergeant continued. “The second floor is where it gets tricky. There are armed combatants on all windows and stairwells. There is an escape route from the third floor to the next building, which is where the second unit is waiting. We’re not here to capture anyone. Do not proceed to the third floor. Cover your asses and keep those combatants engaged and distracted. We’re just here to flush the third floor targets into the open. To do that, we need to secure the first floor, and engage the enemy on the second floor. They need to believe their only way out is up and over. Understood?”
The team nodded in unison.
They moved silently through the back alley to the unlocked door. Elliot the tech slid the cable camera under the door. The high-res screen showed a long hallway with a living area at the end and a kitchen to the right. There were two closed doors to the left. The only other door was the front door off the main living area. The sergeant opened the main door and the team filed in one at a time.
Elliot used the camera to check behind the closed doors. One was stairs leading up, and the other had bunk beds, with several small heat signatures, and one large heat signature. The sergeant signaled for Thomas to secure the front door, and Walker to take position between the back door, and the bunk room. Walker was slow moving into position, as he bumped into his teammates and the walls. The sergeant glared impatiently at Walker, who responded with a casual thumbs-up as he got into position. The sergeant didn't notice, but Jackson gestured to Dawson with his thumb and middle finger pinched together as they tapped his lips several times. The universal symbol for smoking dope. Dawson mouthed the word really? to Jackson who nodded yes.
Walker was known to occasionally imbibe but never before a mission. He'd been under a lot of pressure lately, with both his folks state side battling the effects of chemotherapy treatments. They were coming around, but Walker had been in a funk ever since. Dawson figured it was good they were leaving him on the first floor without any combatants. If things got ugly, it would be on the next floor.
Reconnaissance of the second floor indicated, that the entire mission was going to be a bust. There was no one there. Either their intel was wrong, or someone had tipped them off. They proceed to the third floor to confirm, and still there was no one.
As they were making their way back down the stairs, Walker piped up, breaking the silence. “Well, another exciting night on the town courtesy of your friendly and reliable Department of Intelligence. Thanks so much for coming out everyone, and don't forget to tip your bartender generously.”
“Consider yourself, under report Jackson.” The Sergeant said. “You need to show a little more respect for the—”
Suddenly it sounded like all hell was breaking loose below them. There was the sound of fire from multiple weapons, and screams. Young screams. No one was prepared for what they found on the first floor. Walker was lying halfway in the open door to the bun
k room. His neck was covered with so much blood, it was hard to tell where it was coming from. Thomas who had been covering the front door, nearly opened fire on the team as they came down the stairs. Dawson was the first into the bunk room, and the first to come out throwing up into the hallway.
“Thomas!” The Sergeant demanded. “What the hell happened.”
“I'm not sure Sarge. It was all quiet, then Walker just threw open the bunk room door, and started yelling through the doorway to be quiet. 'Shut up, shut up.' he kept repeating. Then there were gunshots, and he fell back bleeding. He got back up, and open fire with his automatic in the room. The door blocked my view … couldn't see anything.”
Without hesitation, and without even looking in the bunk room, the Sergeant started barking orders. “Everyone on me. The mission is scrubbed, we're out of here now … move!”
Chapter 4 ~ Lost Treasure
Years Later
Ahmed sped his way into the desert, the distant flashing lights disappearing behind him. It was treacherous riding this close to the cliffs, but he was fearless. Allah would protect him when necessary. Fear had no place in his mind. He’d done it many times over the years. The task was simple, but the growing encroachment by the infidels was becoming increasingly tiresome. He tried not to think about it, but every so often doubts would creep in, like the scorpions in the crevices of the rocks. The sound of his motorcycle scared desert creatures into hiding. Eventually, the humans would become more difficult to evade. Simply being stealthy wouldn’t be enough. He’d have to be smarter, but only smarter than stupid infidels. Desert scorpions were more worthy than greedy infidels. All things are insects in the light of Allah, he thought. Except of course for the chosen. Those who would one day be in heaven with Allah justly enjoying their rewards.
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