by Jade Alters
I had just worked an eight hour day, reporting on a horticulture show...in the rain. I arrived home, wet, tired and frustrated to find The General waiting at my door. He had come bearing what he called “a gift.” He had an old army buddy who was now the station manager for a small television station in Atlanta. He was willing to give me a job...supposedly, reporting on “real news.” I was skeptical, but I was a big believer of trying to see the positive in negative situations. The first and most important positive was that I would be 2000 miles away from my retired and intrusive father. The second, it couldn't be any worse than the job I was doing now, and it paid almost twice as much.
So, less than a month after my father made the call to his friend in Atlanta, I packed up my studio apartment and boarded a plane from LAX to Atlanta. I checked into the hotel I would be staying at until I found an apartment on Saturday and bright and early Monday morning, I reported to work. I felt like my excitement was almost palpable to everyone in the building that morning, and by late afternoon, so was my disappointment.
The station manager assigned me to “assist” a middle-aged anchor named Lana right off the bat. Lana had a big, blonde, heavily hair sprayed hair and a plastic face. She was as thin as a rail and her skin looked like it hadn't seen the sun in years. On air, the smile on her face was plastered almost as tightly as her hair, but off, she was demanding and irritable and from what I could determine, miserable with her own life. She seemed to take that out on those closest to her and I quickly became one of her scapegoats. Reminding myself daily that this job was an opportunity and I wouldn't be Lana's assistant forever, I grinned and bore it for months. After six of those harrowing months had passed, I thought my big break had finally arrived.
I arrived one morning to a message that the station manager wanted to see me right away. His words to me were, “I have an assignment overseas and I need someone who doesn't have too many commitments here in the states to take it. I don't know how long you'll be there.”
“Where is “there” exactly?”
“Afghanistan, near Kabul
I felt my heart begin to race. I wasn't sure if it was the excitement of the prospect of this assignment...or fear of the unknown. But what I did know was that it was the first time in months that I had really felt alive. Without asking too many questions, which in hindsight I would regret, I took it. What I did know when I got on the plane to Kabul was that I would be stationed at a military base where a team of doctors from the US ran a medical clinic. Their time there was all voluntary and financed by themselves and donations from generous benefactors in the states. The station wanted an in-depth story, a documentary...and if I did a good job, my name on the credits of that documentary could very well shoot my career to the top of that pyramid I had been struggling so hard to climb.
Hindsight...sometimes it was a bitch. I didn't ask any questions about what life would be like on the base. My father never talked about his time in the army and I had never been interested. The first few weeks I was there was like culture shock and I tried listing out the positives in my head every day...but as the days went by, that was getting harder. I had started out with a pretty good list. My travel was funded, I got a clothing allowance, and I was surrounded by hot, muscular men...Of course the travel was to the middle of the desert. It was hot, dry and buggy. The clothes I spent the allowance on were baggy khaki pants, camouflage vests, hiking boots and a hijab I had to wear if I went off base...which was rare. The men were plentiful, but they were quiet, serious and heavily armed. And the doctors I was there to do a story about were oddly tight-lipped and not welcoming at all. My cameraman was a retired veteran who smoked too much and drank whiskey straight out of the bottle all day. My meals were served in packages. They were called “MRE's” and rarely resembled the description on the label. I wanted to go home...and after three weeks of struggling with both my conscience and the idea of facing my father as being a “quitter” I was finally composing the email that I hoped would put an end to my misery.
I stopped to wipe the sweat out of my eyes for at least the dozenth time since I sat down in front of the laptop. It was hot...not, “California in the summer” hot, but “this is hell” hot. At least I didn't have to wear the hijab while I was on base. It seemed to trap all that heat in my body and I couldn't help but wonder how the Afghani women didn't melt from the inside out. As it were, I couldn't find a deodorant strong enough to make me feel fresh for more than five minutes and that was even pressing it. My lips were dry and chapped and my skin flaked off thanks to the ever-present wind...and everything was perpetually covered in dust. When I looked out beyond the gates of the small base all I saw was dust - piles of it, everywhere. It was like being on a deserted island, without the trees or the ocean.
Daytime was bad enough, but night was the worst. As I lay in my tent and tried to sleep, there were constant sounds off in the distance of guns or bombs going off. That troubled me, especially since I'd been assured before I left the states that American's were simply still there to “keep” the peace. So far however I'd seen no signs of that peace. The base was constantly locked down and they had drills almost daily to prepare them for the possibility of a terrorist attack. But what troubled me most of all at night were the howls. I could hear wolves, many of them, howling and whining all night long. They sounded close, too close to be outside the gates. But when I asked anyone else about them in the light of day, they all denied they even heard them. At times I felt like I might be losing my mind. And it was after one such restless night that I decided I just couldn't do this any longer. I had to go home.
I was just about to type about the wolves in my email when suddenly one of the soldiers stuck his head inside the tent. I didn't recognize this one...I would have remembered him. He was big, and although he was buried in army gear, I could almost imagine what his body might look like without it. Of course I'd been without a man for quite some time now. Atlanta hadn't offered much in the way of a dating pool while I was there and then there was the three weeks in hell. He was incredibly hot though. Even his eyes were captivating. They were green, but there was a ring around the iris, and that was a dark amber color, unlike anything I'd ever seen. I was lost in them for a few seconds, strangely so...looking into his eyes gave me the strangest feeling of warmth, and peace...until I finally processed what he was saying.
“We have to go.”
“Excuse me? Go where? We weren't scheduled to go anywhere according to my briefing this morning.”
The civilians, myself and the five doctors, were given a briefing every morning. We were told how many refugees would be brought out to the clinic for treatment, or if we'd be allowed to go into town for supplies...or sometimes if the base would be locked down that day. When that was the case we never received an explanation...it just was what it was.
“Now. We have to go now.”
Something in his eyes told me this was no ordinary trip into town. “Are we coming back?”
“I don't have time for questions. Come on, let's go.”
“What about my stuff?”
“Leave it, we don't have time.”
“Can I bring my laptop?” When I first arrived, I was told there might be the possibility of evacuation drills or even an emergency evacuation. This might be a drill, or it might be a real evacuation. Either way, no matter how boring the story I'd done so far, I wasn't leaving it behind.
“If you grab it and come now.” I was looking around the tent. I hadn't brought much with me, but if we weren't coming back, I hated leaving it there. It would only take seconds for me to pack it all in the big canvas bag that I'd brought. “Hurry,” he barked at me. I glared at him...and moved slower.
Clayton Barlow
I was a Green Beret and I didn't have the patience to handle anyone, even some princess reporter, with kid gloves. That was why I had taken a post outside the base for the past month. That, and the fact that I wasn't sure I'd even be able to control myself that close to a woman. The team
had been assigned to “watch over” the military base and the six civilians currently bunking there. At first it seemed like an odd assignment. We weren't normally assigned to babysit anyone, especially civilians. The civilian men were doctors, a medical team who had come to Kabul to start a free clinic for the refugees. They'd been allowed to do that on base for their safety and the safety of the people they'd be treating. But the soldiers stationed there should have been protection enough. A team of Green Berets was overkill, in my mind.
Then a week after the doctors showed up, the reporter arrived. I had been told she was coming and their orders were to make sure she stayed on base and none of them were to touch her. That was like putting a candy bar in front of a five-year-old and telling him he couldn't eat it. The only women my team had seen in the past two years had been those dressed in traditional Afghani garb, covered from head to toe with only a pair of eyes showing. Those pretty brown eyes had even become tempting after a while...but my team and I had orders not to touch any of them...and we were all good little soldiers.
I had spent many nights once the reporter arrived however, tossing and turning in my tent. The descriptions of her alone that the men had given me were enough to drive me crazy at this point. But there was also her scent. Even from three hundred yards away I could smell her...and sight unseen, I wanted her. And then I stuck my head in that tent and realized that my team's descriptions hadn't done her justice. If I had met her in a bar, at least a year and a half ago, I would have had one goal in mind, and that would be getting those baggy, khaki pants off of her. I felt a stirring in my pants just thinking about it. It had been way too long since I'd been allowed to spend any time with a woman...way too long.
The reporter's khaki pants and green t-shirt wasn't the sexiest outfit I'd ever seen by a long-shot, but it was definitely the sexiest I'd seen in this Godforsaken desert. I could at least see that she had a waistline, and a pair of breasts that I would like to see more of. She was about five-five or six and she looked fit, like she worked out. Her hair was dark blonde, wild and curly. It had that untamed look to it that made a man...especially an extremely horny man, think about wrapping his hands up in it. Her eyes were light blue, almost clear and when she turned to look at me, it felt for a second like she was looking right through me. I was suddenly worried that she could see who and what I really am.
I was a “normal” man when I joined the army right out of high school. I had always been athletic and adventurous and I was in good physical shape when I joined. After boot camp I was even stronger and more fit. I spent some time in Australia and Germany, which were pretty tame posts, but we still drilled every day and I kept getting stronger. The great part about the “tame” posts was that I got to spend my time off in town, going to bars and clubs with my friends...and getting into a lot of foreign ladies' panties. But even that got boring after a while. The war was over and the only teams still seeing any action were the Special Forces. So when the opportunity arose to try out for the Green Berets, I couldn't pass it up. I was 23 years old then, and I'd been a Green Beret for five years now. I was trained in unconventional warfare, foreign internal defense, special reconnaissance, direct action and counter terrorism. Id been involved in combat search and rescue missions, counter narcotics missions, counter proliferation and hostage rescue. And then one night in the midst of what the army called a “humanitarian assistance” mission...everything changed. I hated my life now, most especially the cursed instinct to survive that kept me and every man on my team from ending it. I brought myself out of my thoughts and back to the assignment at hand. The reporter was dragging her feet, and we needed to move.
“Move! Now!” I yelled at her.
Her body jerked like I startled her and the glare she was shooting in my direction darkened and deepened. Somehow as much as I was annoyed, the fact that she recovered so quickly impressed me.
“Don't yell at me. I'm not under your command. I'm taking my stuff...”
I was impressed with her moxy...but we had to get out of there, and I was done playing. I took two steps into the tent, grabbed the reporter around her small waist, lifted her up off the ground and threw her over my shoulder. She was screaming and kicking and cussing, but I ignored her. Everyone was busy, moving what they needed from the base into the trucks, so no one paid much attention to us as I carried her across the dirt lot and to the waiting truck. I dumped her into the back where the five doctors already sat and as soon as I let go of her, she tried to come at me like a wild banshee with her claws out. I didn't normally show my wolf in the daylight, or to humans, but I really didn't have time for this one. I lifted one corner of my mouth and let my canines drop and I knew without being able to see them that my eyes were glowing. She let out a loud gasp and stumbled backward into the truck right before I slammed the door and pounded my palm against the back of it, to let the driver know we were locked and loaded.
I double checked that everyone else was off base and then I climbed into the passenger seat of the Hummer we'd be chasing the truck carrying the civilian's. There was a Jeep in front of that truck. Everyone else on base, all Army personnel, were loaded into another big truck and already headed toward the next rendezvous spot. My team, for the first time in...the history of our team, was not following orders. We were taking these people in the opposite direction. We were getting the civilians out of Afghanistan and sealing our own teams fate in the process.
“We're good to go, brother,” I said to the driver, Will Blunt, another Green Beret and one of my teammates for the full five years I'd been a part of the Special Forces.
“That reporter gave you a bit of trouble I see?” Will chuckled and put the Hummer in gear, pulling out of the gates onto the dirt road behind the truck.
I sighed and said, “I showed her my canines.”
Will hit the brakes.
“What the hell? Clayton, you know how dangerous that can be.”
“Speaking of dangerous, the truck is getting too far ahead of us. Will accelerated and dust began to billow behind us as we caught up to the truck. The dust between us was so thick that it was like fog, but we were used to it. Thank God for wide open spaces and good eyesight.
“What were you thinking?”
“I wasn't. She just pissed me off. She was acting like a princess...like she thought the moving van was coming for her stuff and the limousine to take her to the airport.”
Will chuckled again. “I'll bet the back end of that truck is 115 degrees. Probably unlike any limousine she's ever ridden in.”
“Good. Maybe by the time we get her to the airport and on a plane, any romantic notions she had about visiting the Middle East will be out of her head. Women like her don't belong in places like this.”
Will cocked an eyebrow. “Women like her?”
“You know, pretty, soft...” I felt that stirring again. “Spoiled American women. She should be home making sandwiches and having babies.”
Will threw his head back and laughed.
“Boy, it's a good thing I'm the only one here to hear you say that. Women would chew you up and spit you out for talking like that, especially if you did it stateside where they pride themselves on being able to do everything men can do.” God how I wished for just an hour with one who wanted to do what only a woman could do...I chuckled along with Will, but there was nothing happy about it. I needed a woman, but even more than that...I wanted to go home.
The mention of “stateside” made me sad. I missed my family...my parents, sister and my niece and two nephews. I missed my hometown and the friends I'd had for as long as I could remember. I swallowed the lump in my throat and trying to push those thoughts away I said, “Whatever. You and I both know they're not made to withstand what we do out here. It's why none of us will ever have a mate too. No way even after...” Will frowned. “Sorry buddy, I know you hate to hear that.” All Will had ever wanted was to fall in love, get married and have half a dozen kids once he finished his tour. Now it looked like casual sex
and one-night-stands was what we were all destined for. I wasn't happy with having to wait for that even, but I had no problem with the idea of not having a mate. The thought of being with one woman forever practically made my skin crawl. I'd been told that wolves mate for life, but the human part of me wasn't on board with that, even if it was a possibility out here, which I doubted.
The “5” of us had been a team for five years before all the shit happened, and another year and a half since the night that changed us all forever. Not a day went by since then that at least one of us didn't wish, out loud, that we'd been left up there to die. I thought it himself on a regular basis because now...even dying would be a long shot.
Part II
Luke “Titan” Bloomfield slid open the back of the truck. Luke was another one of my teammates, and best friends. We called him “Titan,” because he was six-foot-six, three-hundred plus pounds and his body looked like it was made out of steel. Luke was the kind of guy that would send people to walk on the other side of the street to keep from passing him on his side. He kept his black hair so short that that what was left was more like stubble than hair. His black beard was quite often grown out almost to the center of his chest and he had gray eyes that were so dark they almost looked black. The ironic thing about Titan was that of the five of us, he was the nicest and the most sensitive if you gave him a chance. Even animals didn't fear him...unless he was in the mood to show them his fangs.
I shifted my focus to the inside of the truck once the door was rolled up. The six people inside looked tired, hot, and frightened. Well, five of them looked frightened. The only female, the little blonde, spit-fire reporter, just looked pissed. In her defense, they had all been crammed into a truck that was already full of military equipment. We'd gotten the call to move and to pack everything we could into the truck. The civilians had been sitting on top of tents and sleeping bags with their backs up against the walls that were filled with communications equipment, guns and other paraphernalia. But in my defense, if the woman hadn't been such a pain in the ass in the first place, I had planned on letting her ride in the Hummer with me and Will.
