Lycan

by John O'Brien

  For a brief moment, I contemplate leaving the man here as some kind of atonement for whatever actions he may have done in the past. But, I’m not really one to leave any creature to linger in pain, no matter how much I might want to. Lowering the barrel of my M-4 to his back, I pull the trigger. The man’s shirt puffs as the bullet enters, his body collapsing in mid pull. A long expiring breath leaves, stirring the dust in front of his face. I turn away, doubting the man even knew I was there.

  Back at the vehicles, I look at the rear end damage to Greg’s car. I’m thankful to see no liquid pooling underneath nor smell gasoline. We should be able to make it the rest of the way to the rendezvous. The driver’s side door of the semi parked in front is wide open, the driver nowhere to be seen. He had good sense and is probably still racing across a field somewhere, probably regretting that he honked his horn. I can picture him still running long after the sun has set.

  “Inform Lynn we’ll be a touch late,” I tell Gonzalez.

  I look in the car to see Maria lying across the back seat, her eyes wide and duffel clutched firmly as if the money within is her salvation. Climbing in the car, I see Gonzalez throw a radio into her bag. If we ever have to return to this area, we should now have an idea of their operating frequencies and will be able to listen in on their conversations without going through wide frequency scans. I ease around the idling semi and we make our way down the road.

  A little further up, we turn onto another dirt road, the term “road” less applicable with each mile we travel. Fields surround us, hemmed in by rickety fences of logs and twigs and barbed wire. We bounce over potholes and slow to drive through depressions, all of which I’m sure will be filled with water when the rains come. Grass grows right up to the edge of the road of hard-packed earth and stone.

  I don’t say anything to Maria, who is now sitting quietly in the back seat. There’s not much to say, to be honest. I’m still coming down from the adrenaline and am focused on making it out of here. She basically left my mind once I confirmed she was injury-free.

  We cross over a bridge spanning a narrow irrigation canal and continue east. Here the fields are larger, and some of the fence lines are covered with flowering vines. The pastures and farmland stretch away toward the line of hills and mountains rising in the north. I shudder at the sight, thinking of what might be hiding in their forested slopes, immediately reminded of the true nature of our missions.

  Passing by a nice house, the large yard surrounded by white picket fences and lush fields, I wonder if the owner realizes that Strigoi could be hiding just miles away. Have they heard rumors of creatures coming out at night?

  “A quarter mile, field is on the right. Lynn says they’re five minutes out,” Gonzalez reports.

  “Let her know that there are powerlines edging the north side of the field.”

  “Hooah, sir.”

  I sigh heavily, my head collapsing to the steering wheel.

  A short time later, we pull off to the side and park. After moving our bags out, we wipe down the car. I would just burn the two of them, but with the heat and dryness of the fields, it would more than likely start a raging grass fire that wouldn’t stop for miles. If anything, it would draw more attention and cause needless destruction. Leaving the keys in the cars, we cross the barbed wire fence. Cattle occupy the field to the north, but thankfully the one we’re in is clear.

  Before long, I see a thin trail of welcome black smoke low to the east. The 130 comes into view, skirting just above the trees. The rumble of its engines is at such a pitch that it’s difficult to determine where it’s coming from unless you’re looking directly at it. The gear nearly clips the fence as the aircraft settles onto the field with a crunch, dust flying behind.

  We start off at a run, angling for the quickly slowing aircraft as the reversers kick in. I have to pull Maria along with the bag swinging against her legs. The ramp is lowered just as we arrive to scramble up the metal deck. We’re barely inside before the ramp begins to rise, the clamshell shutting. The engines rev up and we’re soon bouncing down the field. The nose rises and almost immediately levels off, the aircraft banking east. We’ll fly back into the mountains, using them to mask us as we make our way out of the country.

  Lynn is waiting, standing just outside the electronic world that is her office. She looks us over, her eyes resting on me for a moment before directing her hard gaze at Maria, eyeing her up and down. Maria is still in her bathing suit, her legs scratched from the run across the field. With a look like she’d give a bug, Lynn turns back to me.

  “You look like hell,” Lynn states.

  “It’s good to see you as well,” I reply.

  I see her shoulders relax a touch, and she sighs. “It’s good to see you. All of you,” she says, pointedly ignoring Maria. “Get some food and water. Debrief starts in ten minutes.”

  By the way, have I mentioned that Maria is gorgeous? Perhaps not, but thought it implied by her being with some drug lord bigshot. Anyway, even though she is dust-streaked and her hair a wild mess, her beauty is undeniable.

  Some of the crew direct Maria toward the front of the cargo compartment, strapping her into one of the few seats available. Most of the interior of a gunship is taken up with, well, gunship things. Ammo cabinets, the targeting center, and the weapons themselves. Lynn has her own addition of the control center. This particular aircraft has also been modified with additional bunks, which I eye longingly. After having a bite and a couple bottles of cold water, we meet in Lynn’s “office.”

  “I’ve managed to erase all of the surveillance tapes, at least as far as we can tell. There may still be copies, but I’ll deal with them as they surface. The State Department was having a fit, but things have settled down. After all, they have plausible deniability and have stated that no such operation took place. The Mexican government doesn’t believe them one bit, but with the evidence vanishing, they don’t have much to support their story. In light of that, their story is that the Mexican military heard of the operation and saved the day,” Lynn starts. “So, let’s hear your story.”

  “Well, that was a monumental clusterfuck and I’ll take the blame for it. I don’t know if it’s because I was overwhelmed with this new shit or not, but I forgot the basics. One, we should have dealt with the surveillance beforehand. Possibly locating the central office and rigging the lines to go down with the push of a button. And two, for not keeping my six clear. That was second-team kind of shit.”

  I tell the story from my vantage point, detailing the capture and escape. The rest of Red Team follows, giving their perspectives.

  “You’re all back and we saved lives, mission accomplished,” Lynn says after we finish. “And, lessons learned.”

  “Yeah, and we would have made it cleanly had it not been for my mistake. Now, we can also assume that our comms have been compromised, given that my command watch was taken, in addition to the chip frequencies. We’ll need those changed pronto,” I state.

  Lynn nods. “That will be handled on our return. We had difficulties, but we made it through. There’s really no way to handle something like this differently, unless we just start taking out anyone suspicious. They arrive with weapons and we start shooting. When that happens, it’s always going to get messy. But more people are alive than would have been otherwise. However, I agree with you regarding surveillance. That should have been taken care of.”

  We all nod, sufficiently chastised.

  “Oh, and Jack, you’re going to the hospital when we return—and that’s not a request.”

  I sigh. I could go on about how I’m fine, but I know that won’t do any good. Mom has spoken and it’s final.

  “What about Maria?” I inquire.

  “What about her?” Lynn asks, her face suddenly innocent.

  “What are we going to do with her?”

  Lynn shrugs. “We could just leave her in a ditch somewhere.”

  I hear Gonzalez snicker.

  Ignoring her comment a
nd Gonzalez trying to stifle her laugh, I ask. “Then what are we going to do?”

  “If you’re hinting around her working at the resort or something like that, let me just say right off the bat…that’s not going to happen. Your promise was to get her out of the country, right?” Lynn says, and without waiting for a reply. “You did that. She’s out of the country. Did you promise to look after her afterward? No. Your promise is fulfilled. There’s no reason for this guilt you’re feeling. She helped you, you helped her. As far as her walking around, what’s she going to say? That she saw some military members. Big deal. Sometimes, Jack, you think too much. It’s admirable that you try to go the extra little bit. That’s a good trait to have, especially with the business we’re in. But that can also be a liability, such as in this case.”

  I hear Lynn, and know that she’s right, but there’s still a little part of my mind wondering if Maria could look after the house when I’m gone. I know foolish thoughts when I hear them. Well, mostly. And I understand this is one of them. I’m having this little argument in my head that goes something like this.

  “She could work around the house and watch it for you,” insane Jack says.

  “Wait, what?! She was married to the cartel. What in the fuck are you thinking?” sane Jack responds.

  “I’m just saying, what harm could really come from it?”

  “Let me spell this out, and try to look beyond the bikini in this chilled fuselage. She’s…Cartel.”

  “But, she left that.”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot. So, whew, that’s a relief! I’m glad she didn’t go for the money first, caring so much about the kids you locked in the basement with all those corpses. My bad.”

  “Fuck! See, this is why I can’t have good things. Have I told you how much I hate you?”

  “Every…Single…Day.”

  “Good, because I do.”

  “The only reason you have nice things is because you eventually listen to me. Look at Lynn and then Maria and tell me who’s better looking...who do you like better?”

  “Unfair, Lynn’s out of bounds.”

  “Is she? Besides, that’s not the point. Maria wants a certain lifestyle, that’s what she’s protecting. And you know that. You’re looking for a Lynn substitute.”

  “Shut up. I am not.”

  “Oh boy, here we go,” the conversation devolving with each statement.

  “Jack…Jack…Are you still with us?” I hear Lynn’s voice intrude.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” I reply.

  “Where were you?” Gonzalez inquires.

  “Oh, um, I was uh, I was thinking over parts of the mission.”

  “You didn’t hear a thing I said, did you?” Lynn states.

  “Yeah, I did. And you’re absolutely right. We should drop her off somewhere with her bag of cash and wish her well,” I respond.

  “Well, what I was saying was…wait, what? What did you say?”

  “I said you’re right.”

  “That’s it. You’re going to the hospital as soon as we land.”

  * * * * * *

  We land in San Diego, dropping Maria off with her shit ton of cash. I’m sure she’ll do well enough. Lynn was right, our bargain was complete. I’m out of the mansion and she’s out of the country. Still, though.

  “No, not ‘still though.’”

  “Fine!”

  Lynn didn’t make me go to the hospital, but assures me that I will upon our arrival at Creech Air Force Base. Once we’re at altitude, the others slumbering or drifting in bunks, Lynn calls me back into her office. To be honest, I’m fucking exhausted, the adrenaline fully worn off and the drone of the engines quite the lullaby. The last thing I want to do is talk, and now I’m called away just as I start climbing into a bunk.

  “So, all macho BS aside, how are you really doing?” Lynn asks.

  “I’m fine, just a little tired. But I can still feel the bruises, and this eye is bothering me.”

  “I bet. That’s why you’re getting looked at,” Lynn replies.

  “You know they’ll strike again. They don’t know any other way. Any affront, perceived or otherwise, is met with a hammer,” I state.

  “Yeah. I’m going to call some of my DEA contacts and see if they have connections to call off this vendetta.”

  “Like that’ll do any good,” I respond.

  “I seriously doubt they want the DEA and military turning their entire focus on them. They may back off. At the very least, it will give them something to think about.”

  Lynn stares at me for a moment—“analyzing” is the best way I can describe her expression. I know my eye and face look bad, but I don’t think it deserves the attention she’s giving me.

  “I really am glad you’re back,” Lynn finally says.

  “I can truly say it’s good to be back,” I respond.

  “So, while I have you alone, flyboy, I’m curious about something,” Lynn states.

  That statement alone sends shivers up my spine and has me looking for an exit. Nothing good ever comes from that kind of conversation starter.

  “Um, what?” I hesitantly inquire.

  “What was that back at the operations center? You know, when McCafferty said the team already knew that you like someone and your cheeks turned red as a stoplight,” Lynn questions.

  Oh fuck! I think, wondering if I should just pass out to skip through this.

  For the longest time, I envied the women in the movies who passed out anytime they heard something they didn’t like. They were able to avoid unpleasant situations and then carry on like nothing happened.

  I need to pass out.

  “Um, that was nothing. They were just ribbing me,” I reply.

  “No, it was something. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have reacted like that. If I recall the conversation–”

  “Please don’t,” I mumble.

  “Don’t what?” Lynn says, that innocent expression once again making its appearance.

  “Don’t recall the conversation,” I say, my heart beating wildly.

  “I believe you said something to the effect of you liking someone else in the room, and then McCafferty said–”

  “I was kidding, to get out of something I mumbled about Greg.”

  “True, but McCafferty then said–”

  “Dammit! Fuck! Okay, I like you. There, I said it. Feel better now?” I respond.

  “Hmmm…that could pose a problem, don’t you think?”

  “No, not really. I can keep it under control if I stuff it into one of my many closets that I nail closed,” I say.

  Lynn scooches forward in her seat. “What if I told you that I might not want you to stuff it into a closet.”

  Oh shit! No! No! No! This is not good! I think, my heartrate ramping up, pounding like a hammer inside of my chest. Sane Jack, I need you!

  No reply.

  “Where are you, you fucking asshole?” I ask sane Jack.

  All I can hear inside is sane Jack whistling as my heartbeat pounds.

  “Then that might become a problem,” I tell Lynn.

  “Hmmm…I agree. But, one that might be overcome?” she replies.

  “I didn’t exactly say that.”

  “Dammit, you dance around like a fidgety child! If you’re going to kiss me, now’s the time to do it, flyboy…or don’t. Know that I might not give you another chance.”

  I don’t know if it’s a mistake or not, but I lean forward.

  “We can’t tell anyone,” I breathe, leaning further forward.

  “They already know,” she whispers, our lips meeting.

  Chapter Six

  The visit to the hospital, against my wishes and struggles, didn’t reveal any fractures or permanent damage. Once a new implant was placed, I was off for home and looking forward to some time with the kiddos.

  On the plane ride home, I was left with way too much time to think. Although the operation could be classified as a success, it was anything but that in my mind. Too many mist
akes were made; mistakes I wouldn’t have made in the past. The security room lapse and being taken down from behind for starters. To be honest, my self-confidence took a shot. Perhaps I am getting a bit too old for this business, but I signed my name away and I seriously doubt those in charge would be pleased if I suddenly announced my retirement.

  Aside from that, the situation really couldn’t have been handled much differently. We had to be in place to identify the shooters and quickly take them down. But the security footage should have been taken care of right away. Just because I didn’t see any obvious cameras, that didn’t mean they weren’t there. I cover the operation from start to finish during the flight, nit-picking it apart to see where we could have done better.

  Honestly, it was a screwed-up mission to be assigned to. Either a travel ban should have been in effect or the resorts surrounded with military forces. Of course, if no one had done anything, the shootout probably would have killed a lot more tourists. The popping of my ears lets me know that it’s time to put work behind me and focus on the days ahead.

  On the way home, Nic informs me that we’re having Chinese takeout and has already picked the movie. Chinese food I’m fine with, but Nic’s movie selections always worry me. It’s not that I don’t appreciate a good romance or feel-good story…okay, that’s a lie. There are some I can stand, but they are few and far between.

  I walk in with the kids already there, the cardboard boxes representing our evening meal stacked on the counter with plates next to them.

  “Jesus, Dad!” Bri exclaims on seeing my bruised face. “What happened?”

  “I was, uh, playing pool,” I reply.

  “What?! Were you the cue ball?” Robert says, smiling.

  “Something to that effect.”

  We sit down with our plates piled high with MSG…I mean food…and talk our way through the movies. That’s pretty much the way it goes all of the time, and the reason I put the subtitles on. For me, it just makes it a more homey experience, and if there’s something vital we missed, there’s always the rewind button.