by Abigail Roux
“If you see dinner, don’t be afraid to bring it back with you,” Thiago added
quietly, speaking through the comm unit.
“Dinner?” Carl heard Faust murmur questioningly.
“This should be interesting,” Carl muttered to Everett as he tapped his
earpiece and they headed west together.
“I think he means small, innocent, fuzzy creatures,” Bergeron’s voice
supplied gleefully in Carl’s ear. “Leave dem bunnies alone, couyon.” the Cajun chastised, his accent deepening as he allowed himself to grow comfortable in the
outdoors. It was apparently his natural habitat. “Go for them mean critters,” Bergeron advised. “My maw maw used to walk into the bayou, whack a caimon with a wooden spoon, and make us skin him for dinner.”
“Caimon?” Faust echoed questioningly, his voice tinged with dread as if he thought he didn’t want to know the answer.
“Alligator,” Bennett voice supplied with amusement. Carl idly wondered
why Bennett would know that so readily.
“Gator’s mighty tasty, couyon,” Bergeron crooned.
“Stick with the bunny, lad, they don’t bite as hard. You like bunny, young
Nikolaus?” Bennett’s gruff voice questioned teasingly.
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Carl and Everett shared a look and kept walking, trying to drown out the
other two conversations and concentrate on getting to know one another as they
walked. They spoke idly about their own specialties for roughly half a kilometer, and Carl began to genuinely worry about Brandt Everett’s sanity as the man joyously
recounted many of the various things he’d blown up in the past.
At least he enjoyed his work.
As a Class Four operative, Carl Travers’s job was to provide and operate the
various armaments available, either for a group operation or working on his own.
While all operatives were entirely capable of handling weapons of any sort, Carl was more than merely competent. He knew almost everything there was to know about
almost every weapon ever created. He could just as easily work a medieval catapult as he could Darth Vader’s Death Ray if the occasion called for it.
As a Class Seven operative, Brandt Everett served much the same purpose.
But instead of wielding guns or knives or whatnot, Everett blew shit up. Carl knew the basics about explosives. He had limited experience with substances like C4 and nitroglycerine and dynamite, but Everett could probably blow up their cabin with a coffee mug and a pinch of salt if he felt so inclined.
Just the thought of what Everett might or might not be inclined to blow up
made Carl shiver as they walked. They came to a stop as the path they followed
forked, and they stood in the middle of the path listening to the chatter of the other four men. Bergeron and Faust were arguing over whether the tree they were walking past was an oak, and Thiago seemed to be trying to coax Bennett into telling him
more about how he’d met the young Cajun. Carl blinked at the two paths and looked at Everett as the man began to hum slightly.
“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,” Everett murmured to himself. Carl
cocked his head at him in concern, and Everett glanced over at him. Carl had to force himself not to retreat under the gleam in the large man’s black eyes. He watched
Everett’s gaze slowly return to the fork in the road with growing concern. “And I,”
the Australian continued in a theatrical voice. “I took the one less traveled by… and I blew the other one all to Hell.”
Carl heard the other two conversations grind to a halt, and the silence in his
ears was tense and expectant as Everett looked at him again. He could just imagine the other four men standing frozen in the middle of the woods, listening intently for an explosion.
“Robert Frost,” Everett offered before setting out once more and veering off
toward the tree line. He stooped to pick up a pinecone as Carl took a cautious step forward.
“I’m not sure that’s exactly how it goes,” Carl offered carefully. Everett
responded with a joyous laugh.
“It’s how it goes in my world,” he called over his shoulder. He tossed the
pinecone in the air and caught it again. Carl followed him slowly, wondering just how
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far gone this bloke really was. Everett turned suddenly, and Carl tensed, expecting a blow. “Did you know that pinecones are explosive?”
“What?” Carl asked warily, not sure he’d heard correctly and almost hoping
he hadn’t.
“Yep,” Everett went on, oblivious to the discomfort he was causing his
companion. “You have to get them before they seed, of course,” he said, holding up the sticky cone as an example. Carl could see that it had yet to open up and was
covered in goo. “The pitch is flammable, you see. Add a little flame and bam!”
Everett informed him with a delighted flurry of hand movements.
Carl knew he was gaping at the other man, but he simply couldn’t help it. In
his ear he heard Thiago asking Bennett if he was hearing correctly, as well as an amusing dialogue between Faust and Bergeron.
“Did he say pinecones?” Faust asked.
“I think so,” Bergeron answered. “Seems like I heard about that before.
Never had need of using it, though. Thank God. Fucking pyromaniac. Crazier’n a
male crab, that one.”
Carl wondered briefly how long the young man had been in the business and
what the hell a male crab had to do with anything, but he didn’t have long to ponder the questions before Everett withdrew a silver cigarette lighter from his pocket and flicked it open. Carl’s eyes widened and he took a step forward, then retreated again indecisively.
“Uhh….”
Before Carl could get another sound out of his mouth Everett put flame to
pinecone and tossed it into the path on the right of the fork where a smattering of other pinecones littered the way. Carl watched the flaming projectile in morbid
fascination as it arced gracefully through the air. Surely it couldn’t make that big of an explosion. Could it?
“Cover!” Everett shouted gleefully, and he tackled Carl to the ground. They
landed with a pair of grunts and a cloud of dirt and pine needles. Carl was a little surprised to discover that Everett covered his body protectively with his own. His big hands shielded his own head as well as Carl’s as he pressed his body down and his face into Carl’s neck. Carl squeezed his eyes closed and tensed, waiting for the
inevitable ‘bam.’
III.
THE explosion was by no means earth shattering, but the sound of it both coming
through the earpiece and echoing distantly through the forest caused adrenaline to rush through Shawn Bennett’s body at warp speed all the same.
“Mierda! What the fuck did he blow up this time?” Thiago questioned in
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exasperation, not sounding all too concerned but obviously ruffled enough to slip back into his native accent.
“Hope it wasn’t Carl,” Shawn responded flatly as he unconsciously lifted his
chin and sniffed at the air. It smelled like snow. He could hear Remy and Nikolaus Faust jibbering in his ear, and Thiago was saying something about Brandt Everett
being mentally unstable. But Shawn was watching the birds fly over the trees and
trying to figure out where the explosion had originated. He turned to look in the direction from which the birds flew and pressed the earpiece further into his ear.
“Travers? Everett?”
There was an uneasy silence as they waited for an answer, and finally there
&n
bsp; was a cough and a muffled curse.
“Carl? Lads?”
More curses and sounds of a scuffle ensued. Shawn exhaled in relief and let
his tense muscles relax.
“Hope Travers kicks his ass,” Thiago muttered as he shielded his eyes
against the setting sun. “Boludo loco.”
Shawn gave Thiago a worried glance, telling himself he probably didn’t
want to know what that meant, but from the tone he had to admit he was probably
thinking close to the same thing. That big bastard was going to blow them all to Hell before this assignment was over.
The sounds of struggle died out and Shawn could imagine the two men lying
on the ground, staring blankly at the sky and breathing heavily. He could hear them breathing, anyway, and it was enough to feed the visual.
“If these things will stand up to a blast and a tussle in the dirt then they’re
okay with me,” Shawn said happily, tapping his ear to let Thiago know he was talking about the earpieces and not their two companions. Thiago nodded solemnly and
watched the squawking flock of birds soar overhead. Shawn thought about reminding him to close his mouth, but then decided the serious Argentinean wouldn’t think it was funny. “What do we think then, lads?” he finally asked of the rest of them.
“Continue walking or trust that these gadgets work and go home before Brandt sets the whole of North Dakota on fire?”
Shawn expected a chorus of responses, but all he got was silence. He turned
to look curiously at Thiago, who simply shrugged in answer.
“You’re the boss, right?” the man asked, pulling at his ear in apparent
agitation and almost dislodging his earpiece in the process.
“What?” Shawn asked, hoping he’d misunderstood the tone Thiago had
used.
Thiago simply raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘you heard me.’
“Shawn?”
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Shawn pressed the piece closer to his ear in order to better hear Remy’s
voice. It seemed that the things weren’t working so well after all. He could barely hear the younger man say his name, and now there was nothing.
“Copy,” Shawn said after a long silence. He waited for Remy to say more,
but when nothing came he looked at Thiago in concern. “Can you hear anything?”
“Nothing,” Thiago said in a low voice.
“Problem?” asked Everett’s voice nonchalantly.
“Damn, we were hoping Travers had put you out of our misery, Everett,”
Shawn said with a grin.
“Just cause I’m here doesn’t mean he didn’t try,” came Everett’s voice again.
“I did try. He threatened to stick a pinecone up my– ”
“SHAWN!”
Shawn barely restrained himself from jumping out of his skin when Remy
shouted at him through his earpiece.
“Christ, lad! I copy!”
“Oh. Sorry.” There was a short silence during which Shawn swore Remy
was groaning and he began to grow a bit more concerned. “Ouch. Dammit. I think
Nikki and I have stumbled into a valley. We aren’t receiving a fucking thing down here.”
Nikki? Shawn smiled wryly to himself. He loved to watch his young
associate win others over so quickly. It made him feel like less of a sap for being befriended so easily by the same man who’d repeatedly tried to kill him on their first meeting.
“I think… triangulate… then it’ll… oh, for fuck’s sake,” came Nikolaus
Faust’s garbled voice, sounding much farther away than Remy’s had moments ago.
“Have you two separated?” Shawn demanded almost angrily.
“No. I climbed a tree for high ground,” Remy said testily. Thiago snorted
before he could stop himself, and Shawn rolled his eyes.
“Watch out for the pinecones,” Travers deadpanned.
“It’s an evergreen. No pinecones,” Remy responded with a little more heat
than was strictly necessary, in Shawn’s opinion. The attitude was explained though, when Faust’s voice filtered through to them all.
“It’s… fucking… pine… blödes arschloch!”
“It’s an evergreen!” Remy shot back, seemingly unfazed by the use of a
language Shawn knew he didn’t understand.
“Evergreens have pinecones,” Travers supplied, though he didn’t sound very
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certain.
“No, they bloody well don’t,” Everett responded as Shawn watched Thiago
close his eyes and shake his head tiredly. “That’s why they’re called bloody
pine cones. Cause they come from bloody pines!”
“Isn’t a pine a type of evergreen?” Shawn asked, unable to keep himself out
of the discussion regardless of how much he hated to encourage it.
“Evergreen! Maudit!” came Remy’s irritated voice in response to a comment that apparently only he had heard. Shawn loved to hear him get riled; it accentuated his unusual accent and made him sound like he’d just crawled out of the bayou.
Shawn watched Thiago carefully during the exchange of insults between
Travers and Everett that followed the pinecone comments. The man didn’t seem
overjoyed about the prospect of working with them all for an extended period of time, but then who would after listening to this insanity? Shawn sure as fuck hadn’t liked the idea at first. But when he’d seen that Remy would be with him to keep him sane, he’d warmed to the idea, actually looked forward to it, and now that he was getting to know the others, he felt even more comfortable. If anything, Shawn appreciated a
good sense of invincibility, which was precisely what they all displayed. Thiago, on the other hand, seemed just as uptight and unyielding as he had the first day. Shawn wondered if it was a cultural thing or Thiago’s personality.
Either way, he had to loosen Thiago up, and fast. If you couldn’t smile while
in the middle of the wilderness as you listened to two rather large, frightening men threaten one another with sticking various bits of shrubbery up one another’s orifices, then you hadn’t been in this business long enough. Shawn idly wondered how long
Thiago had been at it. That had to be a question they were all asking themselves, in fact, and Shawn thought it would be a good idea to see to it that they all sat down, tonight preferably, and gathered a little background on each other.
They had to trust each other with their lives. That would start with learning
something about each other.
Shawn was rather amused to hear Remy repeatedly insult the heredity of the
unfortunate tree he’d chosen to climb as he attempted his descent. His young friend was a unique individual to be sure. Not many people were as secure with their
position in life as Remy. Remy bordered on being oblivious to his own mortality.
Perhaps that had something to do with Thiago’s discomfort. Perhaps the
easygoing attitude of the rest of them made him more uptight rather than less so.
Perhaps he read it as unprofessional or even incapable.
“Thiago,” Shawn said quietly, getting Thiago’s attention and nodding toward
the way they’d come. “What do you think? Keep going or head back?”
Thiago stood stock still for a moment, returning Shawn’s gaze unerringly.
Shawn wondered once more what the Argentinean agent was thinking and why he
always seemed to view the situation as a threat.
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“Let’s head back,” Thiago decided finally. “Sounds like the others are
getting their fill of the wilderness, and we’re losin
g the light.”
“Good man,” Shawn said approvingly. “Me feet are killing me,” he joked,
offering a friendly smile as they turned around and headed back in the direction of the cabin.
Thiago simply nodded and marched along in silence. Shawn eyed him
suspiciously. Surely they would have run strenuous screenings on this group. They were a highly specialized, highly covert team formed for a very specific purpose.
They were to track down a dangerous operative who’d been recruiting and turning
agents for almost six months now. It certainly wouldn’t do to have a turncoat in their midst on such a mission. Could that be the cause of Thiago’s reticence? Could he be working for the Archer, simply unable to hide his discomfort with the cover 24/7?
Shawn pressed his earpiece closer and listened in on the other two
conversations as he and Thiago walked on in silence. Perhaps he’d watch Thiago
closer than he’d at first planned.
Shawn shook his head in immediate disagreement with himself. He wouldn’t
have to watch Thiago. The man was already tense enough as it was, if Shawn went
about observing him closely it would cause him even more discomfort and possibly
turn him dangerous. Perhaps it was a job more suited to his talented young friend.
If anyone could smoke Thiago out, it would be Remy.
‘Yes,’ Shawn thought to himself contentedly. Remy would be quite useful in that respect. And knowing the young Cajun as Shawn did, Remy would thoroughly
enjoy the psychological warfare.
One potential problem solved, Shawn turned his thoughts to the other most
obvious problem they faced. Brandt Everett was certifiably crazy so far as Shawn was concerned, and to keep him under control they had to find something the man liked more than blowing shit up.
Shawn’s senses zeroed in on the soft crunching of dry leaves beneath their
feet and the vague chatter from the other two groups as he mulled over the problems.
It was a pleasant feeling, he realized suddenly, one that was all too unfamiliar. He felt almost at ease here in the middle of nowhere.
Thiago cleared his throat restlessly, and Shawn glanced at him curiously.
