“The meeting is taking place at the administrative building, in Kurgan, Russia, just north of the Kazakhstan border. It involves two high ranking government officials, one Russian, and one German. We expect there will be approximately ten agents from each government monitoring the surroundings. We’ll land two klicks away, where we will meet with Kirkland and Williams, the two SAS operatives responsible for the original intel.”
After the captain finishes the group settles in for the ride. It is quiet and dark, and I’m soon lulled to sleep by the vibration of the helicopter. When I wake up everyone is still sleeping, with the exception of Doc Love and Abram, who are engaged in quiet conversation. Just then, one of the pilots comes back to wake the captain. I overhear him say we will be stopping to refuel in thirty minutes. They land us at a forward operating base in Ireland. The Cyclone’s, fuel efficiency, and newer fuel tank design allow it to go great distances without stopping. However, they were short sided in thinking about human needs. Once on the ground, we all make a beeline to the latrine, which in my case has become an urgent human need.
Twenty minutes later we are back in the air. When we land in Kurgan, only the sounds of our boots hitting the ground, disrupts the silence. At the rendezvous point, we meet Williams a tall lean Englishman, with a burn scar that covers the right side of his neck. Kirkland is a couple inches shorter than, Williams, but, with his dark curly hair and massive build, he has the look of a feral beast. His gravely Scottish brogue only adds to his air of fierceness. After a couple of minutes of discussion, we are on the move. We move in shadows, until the group splits into three squads. Doc Love, Garcia, who is a communications sergeant, Crowder, Kirkland, and I form a perimeter, designed to stop anyone who may happen upon our team trying to get into the building. The key to the mission is to be in the building before the government officials arrive with their security, which according to intel, should be in approximately thirty minutes. We stay hidden in the streets and radio in when we see what can only be a government convoy, drive toward the administrative building. Minutes later two additional cars drive in from the opposite direction.
The whole affair is done within an hour. After which, our team along with the SAS members leave unnoticed for the pickup point. The night stalkers land, seemingly out of nowhere the minute we arrive. Soon we are hundreds of miles away, no one the wiser. After refueling, and dropping off Williams and Kirkland, we make the trip back to the U.A.
Though the mission went smoothly, we are all dragging by the time we make it back to the room for debriefing. Mr. Burrow is waiting for us when we arrive. The video and audio recordings are turned over. He puts them in his briefcase and looks up before speaking to the group.
“The U.A. thanks you all, for a satisfactory mission. Captain Harkins, if you would please remain for a moment, the rest of you may go.”
And, with that, my first mission is complete.
Chapter Twelve
Mission Failure
T he next ten months of missions are similar to the first, mostly intelligence gathering, usually without many problems. Occasionally there are some hairy situations, but nothing ever gets out of hand. We work together like clock-work and no one gets hurt.
Tonight, is Abram’s and my twelfth, mission with the team. Though I have wanted to, I have never asked about her time in the orphanage. The two of us, are partnered tonight, we are in an abandoned building, across the street from the target. Our job is to watch and listen as four of our team members make their way into the building to steal classified information, while the other six monitor from the streets below. We are the eyes and ears, watching for heat signatures listening for any sounds that signal an incoming threat. All is quiet, and dark, as I do something I have never done before…tell my story. Part of me does it, because I hope, she will reciprocate and tell me her history. But another part, a bigger part, just wants to be free of the burden of holding in this mountain of pain and shame.
I tell her about, what I learned more than two years ago, about my mom’s cancer, and how she refused treatment, because she thought it would harm me. I tell her about the overwhelming, guilt, and sadness, and anger I feel that she did it. “I wish I could remember her, even a little. She sacrificed herself for me and I don’t remember that first thing about her. At least, it makes sense now, why my dad hated me so much. He couldn’t stand to look at me. Every memory I have of him is harsh and ugly. It seemed like he was always drunk, always raging, and always ready to hit me. I don’t think she would have been that way if it had been the other way around. If he had sacrificed his life for mine, I think she would have loved me just the same, maybe even more. I don’t know if I would have survived, without my friend Haven and her family. For years they fed me every day, and made sure I got what I needed most, which turned out to be, an example of what normal people act like.”
She doesn’t say anything for several moments, just stars mutely at the computer screen, watching for some change in the heat signatures. Without taking her eyes off the screen, she begins to murmur her tale.
“Both my parents died in a car accident when I was five.”
My heart fills with a painful ache, as this, makes me think about Haven and her family.
“I remember very little about them. But I had a sister, Eliza, she was ten. We had no other family capable of caring for us, so we were sent to Lui University, that’s what we used to jokingly call it. But there was not a single, funny thing about it. There was a library, some rich philanthropist got Lui to agree to put one in each orphanage. If he funded it, she would provide the personnel. There were no teachers, just a sergeant in charge of maintaining the building. No one made us go, so most kids did not. The other kids were tired or just wanted to play. I spent every moment I could there. The library was the only escape. There was a female sergeant assigned to the library for a couple of years. Sergeant Hooper was the only decent person in the whole orphanage. She was smart and she taught me, enough so that when she was gone, I could teach myself. It wasn’t her job, in fact if anyone had found out she probably would have gotten in trouble. She did it anyway, she saved me...well, her and Eliza. The U.A. did not provide enough food to sustain children working twelve-hour days. But after every meal Eliza would give me some of her food. She told me not to tell anyone, but that she had made friends with one of the guards and he would make sure she had extra food. I don’t think at first there was any friend. She was just giving me her food. I was too young to realize what was going on. She was emaciated by the time she turned twelve, but she was still so beautiful. Eventually, she did make “a friend." He made sure she had enough food to survive. She made sure I had enough to grow strong so that I could endure the environment we were in. She sacrificed everything for me, her food, and her body at the hands of a disgusting pig, all so that I could have one more meal, so I could make it through one more day.
He wasn’t gentle with her, or kind to her, he abused her in every way possible. She accepted it, even though, it was the one thing Lui, would not have tolerated. She had deemed us to filthy to touch. Eliza accepted his abuse willingly, to save me. I knew nothing of any of this until after she was gone. When she was seventeen, they found her crumpled body, in a dumpster, outside our dormitory. She was naked, covered in bruises, and his belt was around her neck.
He didn’t even have the decency to put cloths on her, or the good sense to take his belt from around her neck. He just threw her away like a piece of trash. They did prosecute the guard, and he spent five years in prison for, damaging government property. I found out that day, from a nasty little girl, just what my sister did to ensure my survival. And then, after I beat the living shit out of that girl, for saying those things about my sister…I found out, that I could ensure my own survival. That girl was a couple of years older than me, but I had been well fed and I was strong. She never looked in my direction again.
So, I know just what survivor’s guilt feels like. I also know that, there is no greater suffering, t
hen what I have already experienced. There is a kind of freedom in that, you know that freedom also. I could see it in training, you have already been broken, and put yourself back together… they can’t break you again.”
We sit silently for a long time as we absorb all the information we have shared. Suddenly we both turn to each other. The shit has just hit the fan. Twenty, new heat signatures have just stormed the perimeter. And, though it is probably silent outside, our sound amplifying equipment picks up the telltale sounds of weapons being put in place. I immediately notify the team.
“Off the street now! Ten coming up the middle, five on each flank, take the long way around. Move! Move! They’re coming in fast, ten seconds.”
I say all this and realize the only one that heard was Abram. There is nothing but static in my headset, our com is down. Abram tries with the same result. I try again and the com is back on but it’s too late. I look out the window just as Doc Love steps onto the street, and two large caliber bullets tear through his right thigh. He falls back, and Garcia who is right behind him catches him, and drags him back off the street, as bullets whiz by. I grab my weapon and head for the door. As I run down the stairs, I can hear Abram, calling out the locations of the incoming attackers. With our communications back up, they don’t stand a chance and are quickly, eliminated but, more are on the way we have three minutes tops. We radio in for a new closer pick up location. We all gather around doc Love, while Doc Young, quickly and efficiently tourniquets Doc Love’s leg. It is clear he is going to lose it. What was once a massive tree trunk of a leg, solidly covered in tattoos, is nothing more than a ravaged, mess of flesh hanging together by a couple of tendons. Captain Harkins, Crowder, Kelsey, and I are all about the same height, so we load Doc Love onto our shoulders, while Abram, does the best she can to support what is left of his leg. We make a run for the new pick up spot a block away. The night stalkers are there when we arrive. We jump in and are in the air in seconds. Doc Young immediately administers morphine and starts a blood transfusion. Thirty minutes later, we are at the nearest outpost and Doc Love is in surgery.
Chapter Thirteen
Familiar Faces
T he team was put on administrative leave for two months, following the disaster of our last mission. We all went out and got tattoos in honor of Doc Love. A single phrase, on the inside, of our right forearms, “custos fratris mei sum."
The day after Weber, shows up with his orders. He came to replace Doc Love. It’s, bittersweet, I am happy to see him, but every time I look at him, all I can think is…the only reason he is here, is because Doc Love isn’t.
The new team falls into a rhythm, and mission after mission, is completed without complication. The missions are almost always related to Agrisin. The legislation that allows Agrisin to sell its super seeds has long since passed, but it created worldwide discord. Some governments refused to allow the seeds into their borders. While the ones that did, heavily monitored the results. The lines of aggression between neighboring countries only deepened, when the seeds carried either by wind or birds ended up in countries that did not want them. Doc Love got released from in patient therapy, and much to the team’s dismay, decided to move to Natchez, MS. Everyone, on the team, at some point tried to convince him to stay closer, where we could check in on him. His response was always the same, “I am a grown man, I, don’t need fucking babysitters, especially, a bunch of hairy, stinky, tattooed ones. Natchez is home, and that’s where I am going.” About a month after he leaves, I catch a ride with a chopper heading to Esler Airfield and rent a car to make the hour drive to Natchez. I check the address I have saved in my phone three times, to be sure I have it right. I pull into the shady oaks trailer park, with a sinking sense of dread. What the hell is a war hero doing in this shit hole?
Doc opens the door before I knock, he stands from his wheelchair on one leg, wraps me in a bear hug and laughs warmly.
“Malone, about damn time one of you sons of bitches comes to visit me.”
I am relieved to see that he seems happy.
“Well, we did try to tell you not to move out here to BFE.”
“Yeah, yeah, come on let’s sit on the porch. Do you want a beer, water…I think Helen made some sweet tea?”
My eyebrows shoot up at the mention of a lady.
“No thanks I’m good right now. Who’s Helen?”
He lets out a bark of laughter.
“I told you I didn’t want a bunch of hairy, stinky babysitters, Helen, is a sweet, beauty.”
“Oh, is it something serious?”
“Nah, she’s just using me for beer money, but then I’m just using her for sex…we have a mutually beneficial understanding.”
“Sounds like a classy arrangement.”
“Don’t judge Malone, she’s a good lady, and what we have is honest and forthright. That’s a hell of a lot more than I can say for most relationships.”
I look down at Doc’s leg.
“So, where’s your, prosthetic?”
“Ah, the damn thing hurts like hell. I don’t think the thing fits right. But it takes months to get in at the VA.”
We sit on the porch for an hour or so catching up and talking about the team. Until an old, beat up, white Toyota Prius drives up, it was one of the first hybrids, God knows how many miles that car has on it. Out steps, who I can only assume is Helen. She was clearly very pretty in her day. Petite build, blond hair and sparkling blue green eyes. Her face shows the wear of, too much drinking and based on the cloud of smoke that exits the car with her and the cigarette hanging from her mouth, a serious chain-smoking addiction. She walks up the steps and smiles at us brightly with surprisingly white teeth.
“Hi, sugar.”
She bends down and plants a kiss on Doc’s mouth with overly red lips, and he gives her bottom a squeeze. I can’t help smiling at this new version of Doc. He’s so unguarded and relaxed.
“Get me a beer, will you babe.”
“Sure thing... anything else…you want something to snack on?”
“Nah, maybe later”
Helen bounces up and scampers into the trailer, with the energy of a bottle of champagne that has just been uncorked. She returns seconds later with three beers. She passes them out and pulls out a chair.
“So, who’s your pretty, friend sugar?”
“This is Malone, one of my brothers from the unit.”
She smiles at me, and I know instantly who is responsible for the change in Doc’s demeanor. She is a natural care giver and radiates with a kind of warm, soothing, happiness, like when the sun comes out on a gloomy day. She chats with us animatedly for about twenty minutes, until the door to the trailer across the dirt road opens. We all watch as a scrawny girl, maybe eleven or twelve steps out, and walks toward a garden next to her trailer. She carries a shallow wicker basket. I get a feeling of unease that I don’t quite understand, until she turns. I see her little face marred with a black eye. I immediately break out in a cold sweat and my heart races. Fueled by fury I am ready in an instant to go kick some ass. Doc places a restraining hand on top of my shoulder, just before I bolt out of my seat. I look at him unable to remove the rage in my eyes, and I see the wisdom and compassion in his.
“That’s not the way to play this Malone…you gotta think of the long game.”
“In the long game she ends up dead. Look at her, she’s tiny how many beatings can she take.”
“She’s tougher than you think, and she knows when to run.”
I look at him with doubtful eyes, but finally calm myself.
Doc looks to Helen.
“Call her over babe, and see if she’s hungry, I’ll check out her eye.”
“Edie, come over here, honey.”
She looks up and hesitantly puts down her basket, then walks over. Helen immediately goes into mothering mode, and I can’t help but think of Mrs. Hollock, and how she was always there for me.
“Honey, are you hungry?”
She nods her head, loo
king wide eyed at me. I can only assume to her, I am just a frightening, strange man. Helen wraps her arm around the girl’s shoulders and ushers her inside, but I can hear her whisper in her ear as they go.
“Don’t worry about him. He’s just a big teddy bear, like Doc.”
I laugh out loud as the door shuts.
“You know, teddy bear was my first impression of you also.”
He looks at me with one arched eyebrow.
“Jack ass”
We both laugh, and just then Helen pokes her head out the door.
“Sugar you don’t have much in your fridge, do you want me to run to the store?”
“Yeah babe, grab my wallet.”
Helen and Edie come outside and Helen hands Doc his wallet, he hands her a few bills.
“Just run up to the quickie mart and grab some chicken for dinner. Get some more beer and cigarettes if you need them, and whatever pile of sugar Edie wants.”
She kisses him on the forehead and looks him in the eyes. It seems casual, but for just a second the moment is intense.
“Be back in a few.” She gives him a wink, and then Helen and Edie set off hand in hand.
It is clear, Doc and Helen care for each other, a little more deeply than Doc let on. We watch as they walk off to the store up the hill.
“So how long have you known, Helen?”
“We used to date in high school.”
“Helen, is your old high school sweetheart?”
I ask astonished. Doc just gives a noncommittal shrug. I take the opportunity to talk a little business while Helen and Edie are gone.
“How much time until they get back?”
“You got about twenty minutes, to say what you need to.”
I scoot my chair a little closer and lean in to talk as quietly as possible.
“Almost every mission that comes our way has something to do with Agrisin. As far as I can tell, the U.A. has helped them falsify their data. When a scientist tries to blow the whistle, they suddenly disappear. We steal any intelligence that runs counter to U.A. propaganda. Some of the other countries that were against the legislation to begin with are starting to convince our allies that they are on the wrong side. It’s only a matter of time before the whole thing blows up. There is no way those seeds can produce what the U.A. is claiming. They’ve got a couple of years, tops before the whole world calls bullshit.”
Half Dead World: Book One from the Apocalypse Tales Page 14
