by Laura Acton
Another long round of laughter ensued as they bantered back and forth hurling funny insults at each other. After ten minutes, Dan turned to Patch clutching his stomach. “Need a partial dose … my abs are screaming at me.”
Injecting a small dose, Patch requested, “Health status?”
Dan rattled off his condition in the manner Patch taught him. The reprieve from laughing quieted down his overtaxed abdominal muscles.
Satisfied with the detail, Patch made notes indicating minor tingling in toes and fingers, continued but reducing abdominal pain, a low-grade headache, general muscle soreness, weakness, and fatigue. Though not in great shape, Blondie was on the mend.
Blaze dragged the long box to the middle of the room and lifted the lid. “This will serve two purposes. We can pad the bottom of the container with our packs, secreting out our supplies and making a comfy bed for the kid.”
Arching a brow, Dan quipped, “Yeah, sure. I enjoy sleeping on guns, com sets, jamming devices … all those lumps of plastic, I’ll be in the lap of luxury.”
“Beats some of the places you’ve slept. At least it is dry and doesn’t reek like the sewer we hid in for two days on our third mission,” Mason retorted.
Brody recalled that stinking mission but choose to leave the memory behind and instead told Danny what the abbess offered. “Mary Catherine said we could take a few pillows and a blanket. That will make you more comfortable.”
A lopsided grin played on Dan’s face.
Carrying a tray filled with sandwiches, Anastasia entered, overhearing Brody’s comment. She set down the platter as she said, “She is putting together a care package for Blondie too. Broth and crackers for our yacht outing since he isn’t allowed anything solid yet.” Anastasia brought over a fresh mug of bouillon for Dan and sat at the edge of his bed. “Want more?”
Having finished the previous cup, Dan stared at the new one. Hungry, but not wanting to press his luck, he said, “Thanks, but no thanks. Puking in the box while sedated would be unpleasant.”
Patch’s head whipped to Blondie. “You need to hurl?”
Realizing his words scared Patch, he reassured him. “No, only thinking ahead to a potential scenario.”
Turning his gaze to Blaze, Patch declared, “I want to push back our leaving time by at least an hour. His food must be completely settled before I sedate him. Don’t want him aspirating in the damned box.”
“Not a problem for going to the boat. Mike, will that pose any issues for you?” Blaze tossed the last pack in the bottom of the fish bait box.
“No, but I’ll still head out at the same time. To be safe, I should fully check the plane Dom arranged. Don’t want any glitches arising in the middle of the sea.” Mike sat on a bench and pulled a plate toward himself. He would miss the nun’s cooking. They never had food this tasty on base.
“Okay, we’ll leave at three instead of two.” Blaze strolled to the table, ready to dig into the hearty roast beef sandwich on zavarnoy bread. He liked the delicate, sour-sweet flavor of the dark, dense bread.
Three Hour Tour
58
June 1
Makhachkala Dock – 1515 Hours
People turned their noses up and scurried away from the stinking, filthy giant carrying a long box marked with huge red letters, приманка для рыбы, bait for fish in Cyrillic script. No one desired to be anywhere near the man. His stench cleared a path, fifteen feet in all directions.
Mason wanted to be sick. The foul odor so horrible he wished he could run away from himself. Hell, at this point he would prefer to dress as a nun. A habit would be like wearing a kilt of sorts, and he had no problem wearing kilts. He liked his kilt, though he only wore one when he attended the Highland Games with his family.
To escape his current foul-smelling predicament, he focused on something pleasant. The thought of kilts brought to mind his family—his parents and sisters, Nan, Em, and Cala. An image of Cala popped in. The last time he visited home, Cala’s hair was not too far from the bozo the clown shade Mike’s had been. In her second year of university, she had a bit of a wild streak and dyed her hair fluorescent orange just for fun.
Cala made him smile … he enjoyed his closest sibling and only younger sister’s bubbly personality. Last Christmas he planned to spend time with her and the entire family, but plans changed when Blondie went missing. He ended up staying in Afghanistan, and not only missed Christmas, but Em’s wedding in March.
In his mind, staying with Blondie while he recovered from captivity was more important. His loving family understood and agreed with his decision to remain. Blondie needed all of them to make it through his recuperation. His little brother achieved the impossible, but then, Blondie personified a true warrior’s spirit and fought hard to make it back to the unit.
The wind shifted, and the disgusting odor assailed him once again. Right about now, Mason believed Blondie to be the lucky one, blissfully sleeping through this stench ensconced with care inside this box, lying on several plush pillows and covered in a soft blanket. Luckily his vomiting stopped, making everyone exceedingly happy when he kept down his lunch.
Though, Blondie’s stamina remained somewhere near the bottom of the sea. So low Patch almost didn’t need to sedate him. Blondie struggled to walk to the box on quivering legs. He only made it part way before faltering, but Brody caught him. Attempting to put on his lifejacket and position him in the bait box turned into a tiring affair for everyone, but the effects of the poison left Blondie breathing jaggedly, shaking uncontrollably, and sweating bullets.
Brody came unglued when they had to take off Blondie’s floatation device because he didn’t fit inside wearing it. Blaze assured and calmed Brody when he said putting on the life vest would be his first duty on the ship. Brody’s alarmed behavior didn’t quite fit the situation, but Mason ultimately chalked up his overreaction to days on end of worry and lack of sleep.
Inhaling another full blast of rotted fish gut odor, it took everything Mason had to keep the contents of his stomach from making an appearance, causing Mason to rethink his earlier presumption about Blondie being the lucky one. Now glad Patch sedated his little brother because if he were awake, he would be hurling again from the fish stench alone. And the last thing the kid needed was more retching.
Thank goodness, he advanced closer to the yacht. Mason glimpsed Patch and Blaze as they boarded well ahead of him. The three of them traveled here in the same vehicle and Patch gagged when he was in the truck with them. A chuckle emitted when he recalled Patch turning green around the gills and puking out of the window on the way here. It was doubtful any of them would be eating fish for a very long time.
Brody and Anastasia came separately to prevent drawing attention to the five of them traipsing down the dock together. As he approached Andrei’s yacht, he glanced to the left and noticed Anastasia approaching from a different direction. Although dressed drably as a cook, with strategic clothing making her appear plump, Anastasia still turned heads as she headed for the boat. Anastasia would always radiate a beauty more than skin deep, she helped Blondie in a way that none of them ever could.
That thought brought forth anger. The animals who tortured Blondie needed to die. He wanted to snap their necks with his bare hands. He would if he ever located any of them. Mason knew Blaze and Winds took a blood oath not to leave the field until every last one of the bastards was dead. A vow he also made to himself. He added a name to the list—Panin Savelievich Volkov. The man would become chum for poisoning Blondie.
Mason reached the ramp and hefted the awkward box higher to step aboard the Minnow. As he carefully set the bait box on the floor, Brody raced to the starboard side, leaned over the railing, and puked. Mason chuckled and spoke quietly, “If I can carry this without retching …”
“You eat haggis. You’re used to disgusting things,” Brody groaned as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Laughter increasing, Mason responded, “Don’t knock it until
you try it. It’s delicious.” He eyed the stairwell and realized he would need help because they were barely wide enough to accommodate his shoulders, let alone the length of the Blondie’s box. “Quit retching and help me move this below deck.”
Brody reached for the handle on one side and lifted as his stomach roiled and he almost upchucked again. He swallowed the bile which rose due to the foul, dead fish stench as he and Mason maneuvered Danny’s box down the narrow stairs which scarcely fit Mason. Brody stifled a laugh when Mason whacked his forehead on the bulkhead at the bottom of the steps. At six-foot-ten, Mason was a huge man who had to watch his head going in most places.
As Mason rubbed the sore spot, he groused, “This damned boat is for midgets.”
Brody quipped, “Be glad it isn’t a submarine, or you would be crawling on your hands and knees so you wouldn’t bump your head.”
“Shut up, Ripsaw or I’m going share my fish bait stench with you,” Mason snickered, thinking about the Winds and Ripsaw incident.
Clamping his mouth shut, believing Mason would do to him what Winds did to Ripsaw with vomit, Brody led the way to the owner’s cabin he picked out for Dan. The queen-sized bed had rails which extended half the length of the bed. It would give him something to cling to if his shaking became worse than it had been in the abbey.
Watching Danny fall to pieces when he had to climb into this box, nearly undid him … no, it did undo him. Fortunately, as he told Danny, the guys associated his quaking with his health condition and didn’t have a friggin clue about his fear. Well, not everyone. Blaze thankfully calmed me down before I let the cat out of the bag with my ranting about the life vest.
Minnow – Sun Deck Helm – 1530 Hours
With the powerful engines in neutral, Patch cast off the last of the mooring lines, allowing Blaze to pilot the Minnow away from the dock. The farther away from Makhachkala they got, the lighter the weight Blaze carried became, though they were not out of the woods quite yet. He would not unburden wholly until he got his unit back to base, Dr. Pastore thoroughly examined the kid, and he found out the status of Winds and Ripsaw.
Keeping a slow speed in the no wake zone as they motored out of port, Blaze took several deep cleansing breaths. Several valid reasons necessitated a last-minute alteration to the exfil plan. The change allowed him to be on the boat, but Mike would now be alone. Mike assured him he would be fine, but it did little to quiet Blaze’s unease. Gazing out at the horizon, he increased the throttle, reviewing the logic used in his decision.
First, his discussion with Patch about upping Blondie’s sedation. Their medic agreed, but that meant a risky transfer of a groggy Blondie to the seaplane. His worry compounded when Mike explained the need to keep a significant distance between the crafts to avoid a collision. With the gap required, as their strongest swimmer, Blaze would be the one to swim from one to the other to rig the safety line between them.
Second, his decision to push back their departure one hour to ensure Blondie kept his lunch down left little room for errors with the sun setting at nineteen-twenty. Blaze remained confident they would have enough light until the end of civil twilight at eight to facilitate their exfil. However, one thing he feared—yes, he had fears—was what would they do if anything prevented them from reaching their designated position today.
The concern arose because the weather forecast predicted a gale force storm tomorrow. They would be in for a rough ride if that occurred. He mostly worried about Blondie. The kid’s anxiety would skyrocket, and Brody would have his hands full helping him cope.
Blaze still couldn’t believe Blondie made it through Special Forces training with a fear of water. Another testament to Blondie’s ability to persevere and get the job done. However, the emotion in those sapphire eyes, right before Patch gave him the sedative, screamed he was scared to death and pierced to the depths of Blaze’s soul.
The kid is not afraid to run headlong into gunfire, a building loaded with explosives, or any number of frightening situations which would cause an ordinary man to haul ass the opposite direction. But deep water is an entirely different matter. Although an unintentional result of a prank gone wrong, Blaze wanted to beat some sense into the men responsible for Blondie’s drowning.
Reason three, the father in Blaze could not leave his son to face this fear without support. Brody needed his help too … he lost control in the room when Blondie didn’t fit in the box wearing the floatation vest. Brody’s edginess over the issue stirred concern among the others and Patch suggested they wait until tomorrow after Blondie started shaking violently.
He pulled Brody aside and made him a promise. Brody would not need to leave Blondie’s side while on the boat. Those words calmed Brody and allowed Blaze to keep the rest of them from realizing Blondie’s collapse and Brody’s reaction stemmed more from fear than his physical condition.
After calming Brody, he, Anastasia, and Mike went to the kitchen to discuss final preparations, and that is when both Mike and Anastasia insisted they leave today due to calm weather conditions. Mike also suggested the change in plans. Aware he didn’t possess all the answers or knowledge, as a leader, Blaze relied on the abilities those under his command.
He found out, Anastasia was quite versed in maritime matters. She shared that her father taught her all about navigating and piloting a variety of watercraft in all kinds of weather when she spent a substantial amount of her time during summers on the ocean and lakes. Her skills would be useful since Brody’s attention would be solely on Blondie, and neither Patch nor Mason had ever piloted a vessel.
Using Mike’s experience with aircraft coupled with Anastasia’s expertise they plotted a rendezvous point which would take them roughly three hours to reach going at eighty percent of the yacht’s top speed. The plane Mike would fly, required him to carry extra fuel to extend its maximum range which also dictated the location. With the additional fuel, they would be able to land at Herat Airfield and refuel again for the last leg of their journey to Kandahar.
Patch sidled up to Blaze and rubbed his stomach. “Man, we’re dumping that rotting box as soon as we leave port. The stench is too much.”
Blaze chuckled. “Your stomach still queasy?”
“Yeah. Mason is in the shower now. How he didn’t hurl, I’ll never know. How the hell didn’t you gag?”
Patting his gut, Blaze stated, “Cast iron.”
About to retort, Patch stopped and raced to the sitting area, grabbed a trash pail, and let loose again. He groaned as his insides did summersaults. Empathy for Blondie grew tenfold as he continued to heave when nothing was left. He put his difficulty squarely on the rotting fish smell.
“Sorry you’re seasick.” Anastasia handed Patch a water bottle.
“Not. Just a reaction to Mike’s box of revenge for all the teasing about his hair.” Patch took the offered water and rinsed his mouth to rid the acidic taste.
Anastasia chuckled along with Blaze, before she said, “Dan’s resting comfortably in the berth. Brody needs a hand bringing up ye ole dead fish box.”
Patch eyed Blaze, silently begging not to have to help.
Perceiving the clear evidence on Patch’s face that he would hurl again, Blaze said, “Anastasia, keep us on this heading, and I’ll help Brody. I wanna check on Blondie anyway.”
“In case you’re wondering, Brody put the life vest on him already. I swear you would think he was afraid Dan is gonna drown or something.” Anastasia said, none the wiser of Dan’s past drowning or fear of the water.
Blaze only nodded. “A proper precaution to take with him sedated. Back in a moment.” He swiftly headed below deck.
Minnow – Lower Deck – Midship Cabin – 1545 Hours
Brody glanced up as Blaze entered. Gratitude played on his face and in his watering eyes. “Thank God someone is here to take that away. My eyes won’t quit watering.”
A chuckle emitted despite the stench. “Mike sure got his revenge on us.”
“Where the hell
he did he find the crap he rubbed all over the exterior?” Brody wiped at his eyes again.
Blaze screwed up his face in disgust as he got a strong whiff. “The dumpster filled with offal behind a fishery. He is a master of procurement … and revenge.” He switched his glance to Blondie. “How’s my boy doing?”
It warmed Brody’s heart to hear Blaze call Danny that. “Okay. Still sleeping peacefully. Thanks for what you did in the abbey. How will you explain to the others about my lack of helping out there?”
Blaze grabbed the handle of one side of the box, unwilling to lift it like Mason, not wanting any of the decomposing fish entrails transferring to him. “No thanks needed, but the explanation is simple and true. Blondie’s sedated and shouldn’t be left alone. You’re the best choice to stay with him when he wakes in an unfamiliar place … in case he has a nightmare of there.
“One of us will check if you need anything every thirty minutes. Mason will probably crash for a bit in the forward cabin. Wake him if it is between checkpoints if either of you require help.”
“Roger. Wish the portholes opened so I could air out the room. Don’t want to give Danny any reason to become ill again.”
“You have a good point. I’ll check the supplies. Perhaps I can find some air freshener.” Blaze dragged the foul box from the central cabin to place it at the stern of the boat until they could dump it overboard.
Brody gazed down at Dan and whispered, “Papa Bear is watching out for you and me. We’ll be off this yacht and back at base soon.”
Discomfited with being on a boat again, Brody’s weird eclectic knowledge of music caused the bizarre chocolate tunnel boat ride in Willy Wonka to come to mind. He began to hum the eerie ‘There’s No Earthly Way of Knowing’ song as his sense of dread increased, and he wondered if the grisly reaper was waiting to send them to Davy Jones locker.
