by John O'Brien
“Can we afford to?” I ask.
“I don’t think we have a choice,” Frank replies.
“What about the prisoner?” Drescoll asks, breaking his silence.
“I’m going to go see him after we finish here. I know I said that we’ll wait for a while, but we need info soon. He is definitely a pro, and the military vehicles we encountered earlier today shows that we may be up against something that we aren’t prepared to handle. We need information…and sooner rather than later,” I answer.
“Why do you think they attacked?” Robert asks.
“I have no idea, but that’s something I hope to remedy soon,” I respond.
“What about Greg?” Lynn asks.
“I don’t know. I don’t like the fact that he’s out there on his own with only one team, especially considering what happened today. Look, it’s been a long, emotional day, so let’s call it a night and meet again tomorrow. Hopefully we’ll have some answers by then and can plan accordingly.”
With more questions than answers, we all rise and make our way to our individual cubicles. I tell Lynn I’ll be back soon and head to where our prisoner is being held. Walking through the interior, I feel that a heavy oppression that has settled. These are trying times at best and the upsurge in optimism that I hoped for by bringing Lynn back into our fold was overridden by the loss of McCafferty. One step forward and another back. As it’s a human tendency to dwell on the negative more than the positive, the step back was larger than the one forward.
* * * * * *
Images flash through her mind as she strides down the corridor. Gav watched events unfold in the control room and pictures from the satellite video feed are firmly imprinted in her head. Her jaw alternately clenches and relaxes as her mind plays the video over and over like an unending reel. Her hand grips the video disk tightly, almost to the point of snapping it. The tightening of her muscles is due to her stress and frustration.
Her shooter was given live satellite information – which was more than she ever received in the field – but it proved worthless in the end as it only resulted in a miss. In slow motion, the shot plays over and over in her head. Their target, Jack Walker, bending down at the exact wrong moment, the shot passing over his head. They had one chance at this and they blew it. Part of her frustration is that she knows that if she were there, the results would have been different – she never misses. Gav clenches her jaw, knowing she should have been the one to go, but her position here denied her that option. The team she sent was a good one, and she can’t fathom why the shooter decided to go it alone. There should have been two shooters with two spotters to make sure the target was down. Her frustration is echoed by the sharp clicks of her heels on the hard floor.
In her room, she slides the disk into the player to look at the video again; although it won’t alter the outcome no matter how many times she watches it. The video plays through to the end, showing the capture of her shooter, the destruction of the hospital, and the shelling of the rest of the team. The camp’s quick reaction shows what she is up against. She played her card and now her group’s anonymity may be in jeopardy. The capture of the shooter makes that a real possibility. He’s a tough one, but everyone has their breaking point. She knows this from her years of intelligence experience. She also knows they won’t get another opportunity like the one they had. It’s imperative that she do something to eliminate what may now be a larger threat.
Thoughts slide through her mind as she stares blankly at the monitor. They could make contact and attempt to join forces, denounce the shooter and his team and ones who went rogue, but the timing of it would be circumspect. No, that isn’t an option anymore. That one shot made the two encampments enemies. Minutes slide by as she works through options. A glimmer of an idea surfaces and she reaches for the phone to dial the control room.
“Yes, Nahmer. What can I do for you?” the supervisor asks, picking up on the first ring.
“Do we have the naval communication codes?” Gav asks.
“We do. They are older codes as the download of the latest naval databases never completed but they could still be validated.”
“Have the codes ready. Find that sub and inform me the moment they surface,” Gav states, hanging up before receiving a response. She is already focused on other parts of a plan forming in her mind.
* * * * * *
Lynn doesn’t know exactly how she feels as she watches Jack head down the stairs. It’s been an unreal day. The adrenaline rush and relief of being freed from captivity…followed by the death of McCafferty. She was already exhausted, but the extreme ups and downs have drained her even more so. She feels like she can sleep for a week. As she stares blankly at Jack’s retreating back, she feels her mind shutting down.
Shaking her head to clear the cobwebs, she trudges toward her room with no other thought than to fold into a coma-like sleep. Sinking wearily onto her cot, Lynn begins to untie her boots when she hears a rap at the entrance.
“Come in,” she says, sliding off one of her boots.
Drescoll enters and Lynn takes in his puffy red eyes and tightly drawn face. He seems ill at ease and absent-mindedly rubs his ear in a nervous fashion.
“What’s up?” she asks, knowing her long-time friend needs someone to talk with.
She had expected this visit and wanted to talk with him earlier but knew he would come to her when the time was right for him. Having lost loved ones as well, she knows the confusion, anger, and the feeling of being lost that he must be going through.
Drescoll hesitates in a nervous fashion. “Look, I know you’ve been through some shit and don’t need to hear me whining.”
“Sit your ass down,” Lynn says, pulling off her remaining boot.
“I just…just don’t know what to do. I feel so lost. I just don’t know if I can do this anymore,” he says, his eyes taking on a far off stare – his mind both present and away at the same time.
“I know it’s hard, and I wish there was something I could say that would take the pain away. All I can really say is that I have an inkling of what you are going through, and the best we can do is take it minute by minute. The pain may not pass entirely, but it becomes endurable. You have to push on…believing that things will get better. Time may not heal completely, but it does make the loss more bearable.”
“I get that, but that is only if you have something to live for…something that you care about. What’s to live for, Lynn? Everything I cared about has been taken away.”
“I know it seems that way right now, but not everything has been taken away. You still have people who care about you and who rely on you. And, this may sound cliché, but both you and I know that Allie would want you to carry on. Keep your memories precious by not giving up.”
“I know all of that, but it really doesn’t matter to me right now. This is a shitty-ass world. Allie made it worth living in. I just don’t have it in me to do it anymore,” Drescoll says, staring at his feet.
“You had something to live for before you two started, so I know there’s something there. There’s your team and our continued survival. The one thing that worked for me was to immerse myself in the training and keep myself busy. Sometimes that was the only thing that kept me going. I would like to say it was Jack or something else like that, but in all honesty, that kind of healing can only come from inside. You find something else that you care about or that you have to do, whether you truly believe in it or not, and you keep at it. For me, I realized that there are others who need me on a day-to-day basis and that sustained me. Your team and the others in this camp need you, whether you realize it or not, they do. Let that sustain you. If you give up, then the other side won, whether that is the night runners or those who attacked us,” Lynn states.
Drescoll remains silent, staring at the ground.
“I know you’re in a tremendous amount of pain and feeling lost. No words that I say are going to make that go away. Your actions and time will. It seems like a da
rk tunnel now with no light in sight, but if you continue to march along, that light will appear and life will regain meaning. You’ll just have to trust me on that. And know that people look up to you and care about you…a lot.”
“I appreciate that and know in my mind that what you say is true. But that has so little meaning for me, and just seems so…well…superficial,” Drescoll mumbles.
“I know it does. You’re going to feel sorrow and anger, sometimes within minutes of each other. Each day will get better, though. We’ve been through a lot of shit, and will probably go through more of it, but we’ve also come a long ways.”
“At what cost? I just don’t feel that it’s worth it anymore.”
“The personal cost has been high for a lot of us. But what choice do we really have but to carry on for those we’ve lost? There is really only one real option, and that is to survive at any cost. When that anger comes, and it will, turn that against those who want to hurt us and toward making this a better place. If we win, they lose and vice versa. For the moment, let the doc give you something to sleep or you’re going to lie in agony and the thoughts that come aren’t going to help…only make it worse. Come on, I’ll walk you there.”
“No, that’s okay. You’ve been through a lot already and I’m sorry to burden you more.” Drescoll turns to leave.
“Bull-fucking–shit. You’re just feeling sorry for yourself. I’m always here for you and always will be…as are the others. You’re a part of us and we’re a part of you. What happens to you happens to us. Now, come on, let’s go see the doc,” Lynn says, slipping her boots back on.
“Thanks.”
* * * * * *
Leaving the group, I make my way down into the storage room where we have the prisoner locked up. The container has been set just inside the loading docks with two guards posted next to the metal doors. Several buckets, most still full of water, sit close by. They have instructions to keep the shooter awake by dousing him with water every hour. Sleep deprivation is one of the most useful tools when trying to extract information. Many can withstand torture to an extent, but sleep deprivation makes everything seem worse.
The guards open the doors at my request. Inside, an arc light has been set up to make our prisoner’s stay all the more enjoyable. He is on his knees with his arms chained above him and seems little worse for wear. His uniform is still soaked from water that was thrown on him earlier. He looks up at my entrance through tired red eyes. His muscles tense with resolve at my arrival. Yeah, this guy is no amateur.
“I hope you are enjoying our hospitality. We’re striving to make your stay a pleasant one. We may not have all of the amenities, but we do go all out for our guests,” I say, squatting in front of him.
The silence he maintains is expected.
“Like I said earlier, we both know how this game is played and how it ends. Knowing that, the only consideration is how much do you want to endure before that happens? The answer to that is entirely up to you. You have the option to save yourself a lot by telling me what I want to know,” I state.
Silence. I shrug nonchalantly.
“Alright, have it your way. It matters little to me. I’m not the one chained up and have nothing to lose whichever way you choose. Oh, but in other news, we have captured some of your team. Some of them…well…didn’t make it. My sincere apologies, mate. I know how it is to lose people, so I truly do mean that. They just didn’t want to play nice and come along quietly.” I watch him closely.
This triggers a reaction with a tightening of his eyes and lips. He glares, searching for the truth in my words.
“Well, what can I say? We’re just better.” I shrug.
“Whatevs,” he says, finally speaking.
“I have nothing to gain by lying to you. You understand this and therefore know that what I’m saying is the truth.”
“I don’t believe you. If that’s true, produce one of them,” he says.
Getting him to speak is the first step. It really doesn’t matter what it is as long as he says something. It opens a blockage, and once words are spoken, more are likely to follow. It’s getting him to become comfortable with speaking. And he did slip. ‘Whatevs’ is an Australian slang term for whatever. So, I’m guessing he may have been Australian SAS. I won’t let on that I suspect this as he’ll realize that he slipped and clamp down again. It’s a game, and I’m a little rusty. I again revealed some of his buttons though – anger and a competitive streak…pride. Of course, who in this game isn’t competitive?
“Mate, you know I can’t do that. That’s not part of the game and we have to play by the rules, right? You want to play by different rules, then you come up with something to tell me. I like it, and then you get something in return. I get something, and then you get something. You know how this is played,” I reply.
He looks on with a hint of confusion. It’s obvious he’s rummy from lack of sleep and not really able to keep up.
“Here, I tell you what, I’ll go outside the boundaries of the fun time we’re having and show you something first. Let’s relax and watch a movie together. I’m afraid I’m fresh out of popcorn, but we can enjoy it nonetheless.” I open the laptop I brought and power it up.
The screen goes through the boot up process and I start up the recorded video from the Spooky. The house and nearby barn are on the screen. A momentary tic on his face makes it obvious that he knows the location.
“I thought you might recognize this place. We found it during one of our afternoon jaunts.”
With his arms hanging above him, he looks from the screen to me.
“No, keep watching or you’ll miss the fun part.”
Suddenly, the doors of the barn burst open and a Humvee emerges, racing for a nearby tree line. Another vehicle follows shortly after. The internal radio calls asking for permission to engage and the okay comes from the small laptop speakers. The target reticule centers over and then ahead of the speeding vehicle in front. Clouds of dust erupt around the Humvee. I stop the video here and turn the screen away to fast forward to the second vehicle as it comes under fire. I fast forward to a place where the barn is centered in the screen. I don’t want to show him where we gunned down his team running from the vehicles.
A flash appears on the screen where the barn was. Smoke, with flames embedded deep within its dark mass, boils upward from the hit. One minute we’re watching the barn, then you hear the words ‘round out’ and the building vanishes under an immense, mushrooming cloud. Debris scatters outward. As the smoke surges toward the camera, pieces of the barn begin falling to the ground. The screen shifts to the house in time to see the second round hit it. I press stop with pieces of the house still hitting the ground.
“That’s really something, huh? So, I know you know the house and barn. You know your team was there. You saw them making a run for it and you know I’m not fucking around. Now, take heart. We had a team go in shortly afterward and some of your team survived. We are caring for them as we speak. They’re not really up for a cup of tea with you at the moment. However, they are a little chatty. So, you see, your use to me is fading. Unless you actually have something to offer, and soon, you’ll just be taking up space, time, and resources that I don’t want to spare. I’ll leave you to ponder that for a while,” I say, turning to leave. “We’ll chat later, mate. Until then, enjoy our comforts.”
He says nothing more as I leave but hangs his head in an attempt to get some rest. I know his mind will run through what he watched and wonder about his fate. I imagine he will begin bargaining with himself to tell me something if he believes his teammates are talking. Pride and training will argue one side, but his exhaustion will argue the other side. We can’t afford to wait long since we are at a distinct disadvantage. Whoever is behind this obviously knows us, whereas we know nothing about them other than they appear to be well organized and equipped.
“Make sure he doesn’t get any rest,” I tell the guards as I depart.
Walking from
the warehouse, I see Harold standing near one of the tables set up in the middle of the first floor. He catches my eye and begins making his way toward me. I am tired and not close to being in the mood to listen to his ravings, but I figured he would approach me at some point. To be honest, he hasn’t spoken of his conspiracy theories since we picked him up from Mountain Home, for which I’m thankful. We have enough going on without becoming paranoid about everything. Of course, with what happened today, I must admit I’m a little more willing to hear what he has to say. The moment he starts sounding too far out there, I’ll be done and go to bed. After all, Lynn is back and I really haven’t had any time with her.
“I know you have a lot going on, and it didn’t seem like the right time earlier, but can we talk?” he asks.
“Sure, what’s up?” I say, wanting to keep this as short as possible.
We meander over to one of the tables and sit.
“I don’t rightly know how to start this and you may think I’m crazy, but hear me out. Remember back at Mountain Home when I said, ‘wait and they’ll find you’?” Harold begins.
“Yeah, I remember that. What exactly do you mean?”
“Okay, I don’t have the details, but the story is that someone took a shot at you. So, I’m going to take a guess and say that you were the target and the one you captured is a pro,” he answers.
“Correct so far, but that in itself doesn’t mean anything along the lines of a conspiracy,” I state.
“I don’t mean to sound crass, but I did say they would reveal themselves to you at some point,” Harold says.
“And you think this is from some group you were hinting at?”
“I’m sure of it,” Harold replies, nodding. “You have become a threat, or rather this place has.”
“What makes you so sure of that?” I ask.