by Laura Acton
Loki noticed the painfully slow way Dan stood up. He swiveled in his chair and called out in a playful manner, “Hey, Dantastic, why don’t you just sit back down? These make awesome race chairs with the wheels on them. We could race to the restroom and back. Ray could push me and Bram could push you. I’d win, of course. Me and Ray hold the championship title against Sean and Heath.”
Jon chuckled. “Yeah and you four got extra duty for that little escapade. Remember?”
Dan chuckled as he actually recalled that. It occurred several months ago and it ended up with one broken chair and all four of the guys on the floor laughing. Jon hadn’t been too happy with them.
“Sorry, Bram runs faster than Ray does and I have racing in my blood. Me and Bram would take your champion title away.” Dan responded with small smile—it was all he could manage without splitting his lip open again.
Taking a painful step, Dan couldn’t hide the grimace.
Loki piped up again, “No way, Ray and I would win. Perhaps Bram should take you on a practice lap before we actually race since Ray and I have much more experience. Otherwise it wouldn’t be a fair race.” Loki grinned as he saw the small upturn on Dan’s face.
Dan took one more painful step determined not to appear weak. He glanced at Bram and his blue-green eyes only showed compassion.
Bram grinned at Dan then pushed the chair behind him and held it steady. He flicked his eyes to the chair as he stated, “Practice lap sounds like a good idea to me.”
His pride be damned at the moment—Dan conceded the fact he would never make it to the bathroom under his own power. He slowly sat back down in the chair and Bram whispered for only his ears, “Good choice.”
As Bram pushed Dan out of the room with Patch next to him holding the IV bags, Ray patted Loki’s back and said, “Good job.”
Loki beamed at all the nods of approval he got from the Boss, Jon, Lexa, and even the Commander. He especially liked the grins directed at him from Blaze and Winds. Loki felt that he was beginning to understand Dan more now—Dan would’ve walked even though he was in pain. He’d found a way to help Dan using a humorous approach and Loki would keep that in mind moving forward.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
July 16
TRF HQ – Briefing Room – 2:00 p.m.
As Bram wheeled Dan back into the briefing room, Blaze glanced at his watch. Where the hell had the time gone? He remarked, “It’s fourteen hundred hours, only four hours until the General arrives. We better get this over with so Gambrill can brief us on what he knows before the General gets here.”
Dan’s head snapped up. “The General is coming? Here? Now? Why?” Dan croaked out, a look of bewilderment plastered on his face.
“Pastore, I thought you told him everything?” Blaze queried.
“My apologies. Guess I forgot one thing. Dan, your father is en route. He’ll be here at six o’clock. Apparently, he has additional information on this new situation that must be communicated in person,” Nick responded.
“Roger that,” Dan retorted as his body unconsciously shifted into a more rigid posture.
They all heard the army acknowledgement, saw him sit more erect, and saw the look that came over his face. Something like a mix of pain, dejection, fear, and strangely, wonderment—it was like Dan couldn’t believe his father would bother to come.
Davis inquired, “We ready to start?” He looked directly at Dan and waited for his response alone. When he got a slight nod, he began, “As I was saying earlier before we broke for lunch, the suicide note is very detailed. I can either summarize it or you may read it.” Again, he looked to Dan for the answer.
“I’ll read it,” Dan said thinking it would be easier to take then hearing it read aloud.
Davis handed him the note. As Dan read it, the group was waiting for a reaction. They expected to see sadness or maybe sympathy for the man that committed suicide. What they hadn’t expected, was what they got.
With an utterly traumatized and confused look Dan mumbled, “No, no that can’t be right. No, the General said that! No! God no. The General said that, no, this is wrong. This is wrong.”
After he finished reading, Dan looked up at Gambrill, a wounded and lost little boy look on his face, as he held the note out to him. “This can’t be right, it’s wrong, the General said these … he yelled them at me … dressed me down … he … no, no … this is wrong …” his voice quivered.
The expression on Dan’s face scared Gambrill immensely. He reached for the note. What was in this note that had Dan looking like the traumatized nine-year-old boy he’d seen the day Sara died?
Dan laid his head on the table, he ignored—or more correctly, never felt— the physical pain as his arms encircled the back of his head, protecting himself. His whole body began to shake uncontrollably as a surreal, agonizing howling scream broke free and wouldn’t stop as long ago memories resonated in his head and he became aware of the truth of that day.
Bodies frozen in place by Dan’s reaction, all eyes turned to Gambrill.
As Walter read the note, his expression of horror slowly transformed to astonishment. He immediately took out his phone and dialed a number. When it was answered, he shouted, “I know now. I found the key. It’s been under our noses for years. Dammit, why didn’t I ever look? I know how to reach Danny. There’s hope now. Come straight here. I’ll keep him safe until you arrive.”
General Broderick heard the ungodly screams. His heart shattered at hearing them. He missed the first part of what Walter said. “What happened?” he bellowed into the satellite phone.
“Sara … it has to do with Sara. You need to get here as fast as possible. I have the last piece of the puzzle in my hands. Will, there’s really hope now,” Walter explained cryptically but then the line went dead as the signal was lost.
Angry that he lost the signal, Gambrill went into action. The rest of TRF didn’t need to see Danny so distraught. He looked at everyone in the room and as he moved towards Dan, he yelled, “Out now, seal the doors!”
The only one who left was Davis—actually, he was forced out. The others refused to leave. The doors were sealed as the howling cry continued unabated.
Military Aircraft En Route to Toronto – (2:10 p.m. Toronto)
The imperturbable General Broderick was striding up and down the center of the military transport plane. After the call dropped and he tried unsuccessfully to call Walter back, he had bellowed and demanded until he was hoarse for them to move quicker. They were able to shave time off, but not near enough to appease him. William had to be there now! Daniel needed him now! Why couldn’t he be there now?
The howling screams he’d heard repeated in his head. He knew, he knew, he absolutely knew who was screaming. Those were screams he had never wanted to hear again. He needed to be there now! He had to hold Daniel now! He couldn’t fail his son again!
Many of the men that lined the sides of the transport were scared shitless and sat very still trying not to attract any notice of themselves as the General thundered past them back and forth. The General was in one hell of a rage. A short call, in which he had only asked what happened, had turned the General into a total raving maniac. If looks could kill, the pilots would be dead for telling him they couldn’t get there faster. The soldiers wished they were there now too—if only to be out of striking distance of this livid, fuming General.
Corporal Stefano Xenos surreptitiously watched as one brave soul ventured to communicate with General Broderick. He was in awe of General Badass and frankly a bit thrilled by what he was seeing—the man surely earned his nickname. He was glad that he’d applied for Special Forces as he watched the General—the man exuded power. He couldn’t wait for the selection process. He knew he would make it into Special Forces, then that powerful, fear inducing, General would be his commander—that was a good thing. Stefano respected men of the General’s caliber—the military needed strong and decisive leaders.
Master Corporal Karla Weeks had never
seen the General come unglued in all the years she’d worked in his office. That phone call truly upset his apple cart. She had gone into action to try and get him to Toronto faster.
She approached him and said, “Sir, we will get you there as fast as possible. The pilot said we are at max speed and he’s gotten clearance to land at Toronto International instead of Ottawa. I’ve arranged for a helicopter to get you to your destination within ten minutes of landing. Sir, you’ll be there in two hours, tops. Please try to calm yourself. There’s nothing more we can do.”
Corporal Tristan Parsons glanced at his friend Stefano and whispered, “The Master Corporal must have a death wish. She told the General to calm down. No one tells a General to calm down.”
Stefano shrugged and responded, “She’s got guts that’s for sure. I like that in a woman—no shy, demure creature. She reminds me of my twin sister Cassandra.”
Tristen nodded. “Even still, I wonder what set the General off—it’s damned scary if you ask me.”
“No clue, but whatever it is, it has to be important. I can’t wait until we make it to Special Forces. I hear that they are opening more slots than normal in the next few rounds. I’m positive we’re both gonna make it,” Stefano stated.
Sergeant Blake Murphy sat near the back staring at the raging General, captivated by what he saw. He thought that the General was hurting again. He smirked, it must be something to do with his son, Daniel. Plouffe told him that it was the only thing that could make the General lose his cool—and the General had most definitely lost his cool. Murphy knew he’d get kudos for reporting this. He couldn’t wait until they landed so he could call Plouffe.
Corporal Cody Merrill sat quietly and watched the General. He liked the man and wondered what was up. He wondered if another unit had been lured into an ambush—that had happened a lot lately. The intel they were getting was bad and it was taking a toll on the units.
But then Merrill’s mind shifted to personal matters. He was upset to hear that they would be landing in Toronto instead of Ottawa. That would put a crimp in his last-minute plans. When he was rushed by the General to accompany him back to Ottawa, he’d decided to accept an offer for his hobby. The only problem was that the bobble-head was in Montreal—so landing in Toronto and then going to Ottawa was going to put a kibosh on him getting his bobble-head in Montreal. He’d have to decline the offer or at least postpone getting it, if possible.
General Broderick continued to stride back and forth. There was no way to calm down. Two hours was too long, he needed to be there now. Daniel needed him now. Gambrill said there was hope—that he had the key to the last piece of the puzzle. Good God, please let there be hope. Let me finally be able to right my wrongs. Please … I need my boy back.
TRF HQ – Inside Briefing Room – 2:30 p.m.
The initial onslaught of sound had reverberated in the room. Nothing any one said or did had penetrated the barrier that trapped Dan. Everyone was afraid, truly afraid for Dan and didn’t know what to do.
After five minutes of gut wrenching howling, Patch placed a frantic call to Dr. Fraser requesting a strong, fast acting sedative be rushed over. That had been ten minutes ago and although the howling had shifted to a lower keening the body shakes were not abating.
Patch was worried how much more Blondie’s physical body could take. His vitals were all over the place—his blood pressure, heart-rate, and breathing rates increased significantly and his temperature had spiked. Patch needed to give Blondie the sedative now.
A loud knocking was heard at the side door. Hallelujah, the sedative was finally here! Patch ran to the door and opened it a crack. Tia stood there, her face pale and expression concerned. She shoved the package at him then quickly closed the door.
Patched raced over to Blondie and everyone watched as he administered the sedative via the IV. Within the space of a minute, all was dead quiet. Blondie’s body still shook. Patch placed the cause of that on aftereffects of the emotional upheaval and the raging fever.
He blew out a breath, glad that Blondie was no longer howling. That sound ripped his heart from his chest. He’d only heard that sound once before—when Blondie found Brody’s body. That day, if Nils hadn’t been there they would’ve lost Blondie, too.
He’d switched to medic mode trying to tune it out, but it hadn’t worked. This was Blondie after all. His empathetic connection with Blondie was so strong and deep. When Blondie hurt, Patch hurt almost as much.
Blaze took a deep breath as the silence descended on the room. He’d watched Patch as much as he’d watched Blondie. He’d seen Patch exhale deeply and knew that listening to Blondie’s desolate cries for the past fifteen minutes had completely drained Patch, as it had drained him, too. Blaze moved forward and put a hand on Patch’s back. Quietly he asked, “How are his vitals?”
Patch felt Blaze’s hand on his back. It had a calming effect. He inhaled, held it a moment then slowly exhaled regaining his composure. Patch checked Blondie’s vitals and then answered, “Still not good but improving. His heartrate and breathing are slowing and his blood pressure is lowering. We should move him back to the gurney. His current position isn’t great for breathing given his ribs.”
Jon, Bram, and Loki came forward to help Blaze and Patch move Dan back to the gurney. Lexa covered him with the blanket and tucked it snugly around him.
TRF HQ – Outside Briefing Room – 2:40 p.m.
Tia sat at her desk and wiped the tears that gathered in her eyes. The last twenty minutes had been horrible—just horrible. It was silent now—eerily so after the onslaught of Dan’s screams.
When his loud howls started, she’d been alarmed and started to race to the briefing room along with members of other teams—prepared to help whatever the emergency might be. They were all shocked when Inspector Davis was roughly thrust into the lobby and the briefing room was sealed quickly.
Dan’s cries were disturbing—even muted by the walls. She and the others had no clue what was going on. Charlie Team was glad when they got a critical call—it was too excruciating to listen. Sergeant Crispin Winter, had quickly ushered Echo Team to the gun range to escape the heart-wrenching sounds—knowing that Alpha Team could handle whatever the problem was.
That left only her and Inspector Davis outside the briefing room. Tia was in shock. If she could’ve left she would’ve just like Echo Team, but she couldn’t and she had to endure listening to Dan’s anguish.
When a paramedic had rushed in with a package saying it was for a Dan Broderick, she immediately took it and ran to the briefing room door via conference room two and knocked as loud as she could—hoping to be heard over the heart-wrenching sounds.
She’d stood staring at the door into the briefing room until it stopped. Then she turned and headed back to her desk. That’s when Tia felt the tears that were running down her face. She was getting control again and Tia brushed the tears away as a small shudder coursed quickly through her body. She wondered what happened and hoped that Dan was okay.
Inspector Davis had slumped into one of the chairs in the waiting area and tried to tune out the terrible sound after he was impolitely shoved out of the room. He was distraught, he’d never in his wildest dreams thought to get a reaction like that. He’d only wanted to help Broderick, not hurt him.
If a picture could scream—that’s exactly what Davis imagined the one of the little boy would’ve sound like. Hell, it was that little boy—only nineteen years later. Davis was immovable now, he thanked God that the sounds had finally ceased and prayed the young man would be okay.
Chapter Forty
July 16
Grand Citadel Hotel – Lobby – 2:45 p.m.
Major Nigel Plouffe stood at the reception desk. He was tired and irritated. It was taking the idiot receptionist forever to check him in. He was still ticked off that his brother David had said that the spare room in his house wasn’t available to him. He’d opened his home to Aaron’s stupid twit of a fiancée.
Chris
t, that girl could blubber. But he’d covered his true feelings, played the concerned uncle, and let the idiotic woman cry on his shoulder for hours. Maybe it was for the best he wasn’t staying at the house. He needed space and privacy to figure some things out.
When he found out that Dan Broderick was in the ravine when Aaron died he could barely hold in his rage. The Brodericks continually fucked with his life. Nigel glared at the inept receptionist and that seemed to fluster him more.
Plouffe turned and looked at the opulent surroundings. He deserved to stay in a hotel of this quality. It was a splurge, but if anyone asked why he stayed here, he could discount it that he was distraught over Aaron’s death and just picked the first hotel on the website. That would fly—no one would question him spending this much money in his grief.
His grief was real. Aaron was the only one in the entire family worth a damn. When Aaron was a boy, he would sit and listen to his stories with awe. At first, Nigel had been pissed off to learn from Aaron that Dan Broderick had joined TRF. But he found a way to use that to his advantage—via Aaron.
Nigel filled Aaron’s head with crap about Dan so Aaron would make the TRF so unbearable that his toy soldier would give up and return to the military. Thanks to Merrill, he was aware of the fast path the General had created for his son to return to Special Forces. Plouffe had missed using his toy soldier against the General and had wanted him back under his control.
But not now. Aaron was dead and the toy soldier had to pay—he was no longer just an innocent pawn in his crusade against the General. Now he would actively plot the demise of his toy soldier. He’d knock him over for good this time. There wouldn’t be another miraculous recovery. This time Nigel wouldn’t fail to kill the General’s mutant offspring.
The receptionist punched more keys and glanced at the Major again. Nothing he tried was working. Every time Percy entered an available room into the computer and pressed enter, the room number changed and assigned the Major to a room they hardly ever rented out—only to select clientele.
