Core of Steel

by J. B. Havens

  Jordon switched gears again, mentally going over the steps he had taken to protect her from infection. He was very concerned about her leg. It was looking worse the farther they walked, which was understandable in a way, since she shouldn’t be on it at all, let alone hiking through the jungle.

  “How’s your leg feel, Mic?” He asked as he lifted her over a fallen tree and helped her regain her balance again.

  “Fucking hurts; I was shot and had you digging around in there. How the fuck do you think it should feel, Jordon?” She snapped at him. “I’m not going dancing anytime soon, but I’ll live.” She placed her foot wrong on a rock and teetered as she lost her footing completely.

  “Whoa!” He grabbed her and brought her close. Enough was enough; he was going to carry her before she injured herself more or him in the process. He swung her up into his arms, ignoring her protests.

  “Stop the bitching, Mic. This is happening. When you’re all better, you can kick my ass into next week. For now, shut that pretty trap of yours.” She didn’t say anything, just let loose with one of those heavy sighs of hers. They were almost there. He could get them to the rally point and then all they had to do was rest and wait for their pick up. He jostled her into a more comfortable position against his chest, holding her a little closer. Another breathy sigh escaped her and she gave up, laying her head against his shoulder. Step by step, she relaxed more until she was asleep, her face tucked tight against his neck. Her warm breath was making his neck sweat even more, and his arms were growing tired with the strain of carrying her and all of their gear. He didn’t let it slow him down though; he would walk like this through the very gates of Hell if she needed him to.

  Chapter 19

  Diego Fernando stood, smoking a cigar, and watched his father’s legacy burn to the ground. With every collapsing wall, with every destroyed picture, his anger grew. He would find who was responsible for this and make them regret they were ever born. He would make his father’s’ brutality seem like child’s play. In one night, these attackers had set them back decades. It would take years to get their forces up to their previous level. The losses in both manpower and property were devastating.

  Diego did not let these dark thoughts turn him from his goal. He wasn’t going to wait years to get his revenge. He was El Jefe now. His rage gripped him in its tight fist, wanting to be unleashed at the earliest opportunity. He must be patient. He must bide his time, wait for the perfect time to strike. He would take the fight to their door; he vowed that soon he would be washing with their blood and dancing on their graves. Graves he would force them to dig. The light from the fires he would set would show them the way to their eternal damnation. Their mistake in coming here would be one they paid for with their very lives.

  He tossed his cigar into the growing pile of ashes and debris that was once his home. He turned away and saw Hector hurrying toward him. He walked through the gardens that were once the most beautiful in all of Colombia. Now they were in ruins, marble body parts scattered like broken toys, flowers trampled and uprooted. He met Hector in the small courtyard. They stood among the bodies of his father’s’ men, who were now his men to command.

  “What is it, Hector?” Diego snapped out. The man was a sweaty, soot covered mess; quivering with fear.

  “El Jefe, we could not find him,” Hector stammered out.

  “Explain. Now.”

  “We could not find his body. Those gringos must have taken him. He was lying in the room with Carlos, dead. It looks as if Carlos killed your father and Linc tried to kill Carlos in return, but was gut-stabbed and died after killing Carlos.” Hector retreated as Diego advanced, grabbing the smaller man’s shirt collar.

  “What are you saying? Who killed my father?” Diego spat, shaking Hector. This foolish man didn’t know what he was talking about. If that man’s body was gone, then it could only mean one thing. Hector’s face was turning purple from Diego twisting his shirt collar. He let up on his grip enough that the stupid man could breathe and talk.

  “Lincoln Adams, he’s not here. I saw him, dead, but his body is missing.” Hector managed to speak through his strangled throat. “We found a pack; one of them must have dropped it.” He held up the backpack that until now, Diego hadn’t seen.

  “Fuck!” Diego screamed. This was worse, much worse than he thought. A simple coup he could have handled, kill a few wives or children and the men would fall into line rapido. He let go of Hector and jerked the military-style pack from his hands. He ripped it open and dumped the contents onto the bloody stones. There were some MREs, a first aid kit, spare magazines, and the coup de grace; a file stamped ‘Top Secret’. The pieces were clicking into place in his brain, one after another, falling into line and painting a picture of betrayal. There was only one country that had this type of reach, only one country that would benefit so greatly from Mateo’s fall. That country had gotten help from some very powerful friends. They had tried to make it look like a coup, which was genius if they had pulled it off. Carlos had been grousing and complaining for some time now; Diego was poised to kill him as soon as his father gave the word. Now it was forever too late.

  He turned back to the still recovering Hector. “Get me a secure phone. Now.” He watched the man run off before opening the file. What he found inside turned his blood to ice; it was a simple note and a picture of the Frenchie. The Americans were behind this; he felt it in his bones. It was time to make a plan, time to take the fight to their door. He was not without contacts in America. He would find those responsible and fulfill his vow. They would beg for forgiveness before he was done; they would beg for their lives and he would delight in taking them.

  ****

  Lincoln Adams reclined as best he could in the small space of the helicopter. He couldn’t believe he was out, that it was over for him. He looked at the faces surrounding him, these strangers that came in and risked their lives for him. The biggest guy was sitting with his leg outside the door. He was the one who had killed the Frenchie. It didn’t take a psychic to see it was wearing on the man’s mind.

  “Oi, what’s your name, mate?” Linc asked him. The big man looked startled out of a daydream.

  “Me?” He asked.

  “Yes. You. What’s your name?” Linc turned so he was facing the man. His words seemed to have revived the others as well.

  “Phillips. What’s it to you?” He snapped.

  “I merely wanted to thank you,” Linc shrugged.

  “Don’t. Don’t fucking thank me, English. You need to thank Mic, if it had been up to me I would have left your ass behind. Because of you, Mic and Jordon are out there! Being hunted. Mic is wounded, who fucking knows how badly? And you have the balls to ask what my name is?” He got louder with each word, and pointed his giant, blood stained hands at Linc while he shouted.

  “Do you enjoy your freedom, mate?” Linc asked simply.

  “What?” Phillips snapped out.

  “Do you enjoy your freedom? Do you enjoy being able to come and go as you please? Do you like being able to sleep at night, knowing that someone isn’t going to slit your bloody throat in your sleep?” Linc was speaking fast; his accent always got thicker when he got wound up, and it didn’t look like they were understanding him much.

  “What’s your fucking point, English?”

  “My point is this, for over a year I have sacrificed EVERYTHING for me sodding country. I have no home, no family, and no fucking name, mate! My only hope was getting to America and starting a new life.” He paused a moment, taking a breath, and trying to calm himself enough that these Yanks would be able to understand what he was spouting off at them. “For me, freedom is all I want. It’s all I can taste.” He looked at each of them in turn, hoping to see that what he was saying was getting through to them. “Can you even begin to grasp that?”

  “Fucking A, Linc. Freedom is what we do,” one of the others said to him, as he extended his hand for Linc to shake. “My name is Pierce.” The others followed suit, s
haking his hand and giving their names.

  ****

  I woke by degrees, feeling groggy and disoriented. I blinked again at the light that felt like it was shining all the way into the back of my skull. The trees cast strange, long shadows all around us. Us? I sat up and quickly realized that I was sitting on Jordon’s lap, and he had his head resting back against a thick tree. What the hell? Why was I in his lap? I rubbed my hands over my face before I remembered that I was covered in dried blood and dirt. The smell of my hands alone was enough to make me wish I had something in my stomach to throw up. Jordon stirred around a bit and groaned before sitting up so fast he knocked me flat.

  “God dammit, Jordon!” I shouted at him, as the pain in my leg just ratcheted up a few million degrees. I tried to breathe through the agony clawing up my leg. Clenching my fists, I counted back from ten, not stopping until I got to negative thirty.

  “Mic, dammit, I’m sorry.” He reached for me, like he was going to pull me back onto his lap.

  So not happening, boy-o.

  “No, I’m fine.” I remembered falling asleep on him as he carried me through the jungle. How pathetic was that? “Sorry for sleeping on you.” The pain in my leg was much worse than yesterday. This wasn’t good. I didn’t even need to look at it to know what that meant: infection.

  “You’re wounded, it’s fine,” he explained over his shoulder, making his way behind a tree. Lucky him, must be nice to be able to just whip it out and piss whenever you had to. I needed to go, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to manage it since I couldn’t stand. I locked my left knee and tried to keep it as straight as possible as I clung to the rough bark of the tree, trying to stand. I made it up without falling over, which was a miracle in itself.

  “What the hell are you doing, woman?” He growled at me.

  “I have to pee.” It was bad enough needing his help to get here; no way was I going to let him help me use the natural facilities.

  “Ok then. Let me help you.” He took a step toward me, but I cut him off.

  “No; no fucking way!” I hopped backward on my good leg, clinging to the tree. I looked behind me and gauged the distance to the next tree. Bending my knee and stretching my arms out, I hopped and grabbed on. I was sweating buckets and shaking. Blinking the sweat out of my eyes and shaking my head, I tried to clear the dizziness that was washing over me like a heavy wave.

  “Mic, don’t be ridiculous!”

  “Fuck off. I’m not that far gone, dammit. Turn your back.” I was as far away as I was going to get under my own power. Here would have to do. Checking to make sure he had turned around, I wrestled with my belt. It was sticky and stuck together with dried blood and other things I didn’t want to think about. Growling in frustration, I finally managed to get it undone.

  “You ok?” Jordon asked, starting to turn around.

  “Eyes front, dammit!” I dropped my pants and using the tree for balance, relieved myself. I had just wriggled my panties up over my butt when I started to totter backwards, wind milling my arms as I went down with a crash. I lay there for a few seconds until Jordon came over to help me. He propped me up against him, telling me to put my arms around him, while he pulled my pants up for me. I was beyond mortified.

  “Mic?” Jordon asked softly in my ear.

  “What, Jordon? Just fucking say it, okay?!” I snapped at him. I leaned back a bit so I could see his face.

  “Nice panties.” He grinned his infectious grin. I tried not to smile back, but I couldn’t help it. A grin stretched my face and laughter shook its way out of my chest.

  “Help me sit down.” He lowered me back down and sat beside me. He pulled his pack towards him and dug around inside. He handed me an MRE and took one for himself; we snapped the heat sleeves and dug into what looked like oatmeal, but tasted like meatloaf with mashed potatoes and gravy. If you closed your eyes and ignored the weird texture, it tasted just like Mom’s. Not.

  We ate our meal in companionable silence. The food wasn’t sitting too well; my stomach was doing gastrointestinal back flips. Sweat was springing out all over my body, but I was freezing cold. I could hardly hold the package still in front of me, my hands were shaking so much that I was spilling the hot food down my hands. I dropped the MRE into the dirt and wiped my hands on my already ruined pants. Another wave of dizziness crashed over me, knocking me flat. The edges of my vision were alternating between black and white. There were spots in front of my eyes. Something was seriously wrong… I couldn’t hear. I was in a giant void, diffused of light and sound.

  “Mic!” Jordon shouted at me. At least it looked like he was shouting; I could hardly hear him.

  I lay there, staring at the sky above me, a deep blue upside-down bowl. Puffy white clouds were scattered about. It made me recall doing the exact thing as a child, lying in the grass, trying to find shapes in the clouds. The sun was shining down on me as the clouds floated by, casting me in shade one moment, but throwing me back into the sun the next.

  The peaceful vision was ruined by a black bird coming closer, getting larger and louder as it drew near. The bird hovered close and dropped tentacles toward us. I tried to scream for Jordon and reached for my weapon. My hands wouldn’t move; something was holding them.

  I don’t understand.

  “Chris……what’s happening?” His face was above mine, I could read the concern there and his lips were moving, but I couldn’t make out the words. His big hand rested against my cheek, feeling cool and smooth. Closing my eyes, I focused on the feeling of his hand. So big and cool against my hot face, it felt good.

  Suddenly, I was jerked upward, my head fell back and I stopped trying to hold myself up. I let myself hang limp like a doll, dangling by the bird’s tentacles. Was Chris coming to? Voices were shouting around me as I got pulled into the bird. Air hit my chest and stomach as they jerked my shirt off me. I slapped at them, trying to get them off me, but I was too weak.

  Why was I so weak? I’m never weak, I’m strong and determined. I’m a leader; I have to get back to my men. There was something really important I needed to tell them.

  “Ge….off,” I stammered out. I forced my eyes open; I had to see, had to fight. There was a familiar face hovering above me again. He had dark hair and eyes; his jaw was thick with whiskers.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Mic, you’re such a hot damn mess I’m gonna have to call FEMA in to save your ass,” the man growled at me. He wielded a big shiny knife and cut my pants off next. I was shivering so much, my teeth were smacking together hard enough to hurt my face.

  “So…c-c...old,” I chattered at them.

  “We know, honey, we know. Let Phillips fix you up; stop fighting us, Mic. Just relax” I knew that voice. I turned my head to it, trying to see him. I kicked and twisted around trying to get to him.

  “Jordon, fucking hold her! She’s going to seize!” Steel bands grabbed my legs and arms. They held me so tight, so hard it hurt. I was held down, but all I could see was the face above me; Chris’s face was close to mine.

  I couldn’t understand what he was saying to me! Why can’t I hear him?!

  “Chris…,” I pleaded. I tried to reach for him, but he was so far away. Why was he moving away? It was getting dark, so dark. I was scared. The darkness swallowed me in a giant, terrifying gulp.

  ****

  “Do something!” Jordon screamed at Phillips. He was terrified, thinking that Mic had just died. She was so strong, so fierce, one second, then she stiffened and began shaking uncontrollably before going limp. He put his hands against her breast, where her heart was still beating. Relief flooded through him so hard that if he wasn’t already on his knees he would have dropped to them.

  “She’s asleep, Jordon. Passed out, thank fucking Christ,” Phillips snapped at him, knocking his hand away from her so that he could listen to her heart. He took her vitals like the professional he was, barking the numbers over his shoulder at Pierce.

  Her body was shivering so hard that she was mov
ing across the floor of the Stealth Hawk. Jordon looked around for a blanket, anything…something to cover her with.

  “If you aren’t going to help me, sit the fuck over there out of my way. Tell me what happened,” Phillips said, taking the bandages off her leg. The wound was an angry red, seeping blood and yellowish pus. It was swollen to twice the size of her other calf. “Well?” Jordon snapped his head around and looked at Phillips and the others. They sat there, waiting for answers. He swallowed so hard, he thought his tongue had gone down too.

  “It was a ricochet, I think. The bullet didn’t go through; I had to cut it out.” Jordon wiped his hands on his pants over and over, trying to forget the feel of her blood. “I did the best I could with what I had in my IFAK.”

  “What the fuck do you mean, you cut it out? These bullets splinter apart like lead fucking confetti. You should have left it the fuck alone, Jordon! You probably caused this infection. The mother fucking jungle is no damn place to be cutting someone open! God dammit-”

  “Phillips! Cut him some slack; he was doing what he thought was best,” Pierce said, interrupting Phillips’s tirade.

  “No, Pierce, he’s right. I shouldn’t have done it; I was just trying to help her.” Jordon hung his head, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.

  What the fuck did I do?

  Phillips was cleaning her leg with a saline wash and iodine. He sprinkled QuikClot powder in both holes, pressed squares of gauze onto the holes, and wrapped her leg. He jerked his gloves off and put on a fresh pair. He began cleaning and bandaging the cuts and scrapes all over her arms and legs, smearing itch cream on her hundreds of bug bites. He was no longer asking questions, just bent to his task. After what felt like forever, he was finally finished and nodded to Pierce, who covered her with a thermal blanket.