by J. M. LeDuc
He quickly looked about his surroundings and saw a slight overhang about fifty yards to his right and slightly back up the hill. Brent started running as if he’d been shot out of a cannon. The closer he got, the more the ground shook and the more he lost his footing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a huge dust cloud tumbling down the mountain. Brent was pelted by a series of small rocks as he reached the overhang. It felt like he was catching shrapnel in his chest and legs. The last thing he remembered before losing consciousness was screaming from the pain of the rocks as he dove under the shallow overhang. When he came to about fifteen minutes later, Brent experienced the eeriest time of his life. Freeing his knife from his belt, he used both it and his fingers to dig his way out of the rubble that had pinned him in under the overhang. By the time he dug out, his fingers looked like meat that had been pushed through a grinder. The skin was shredded and his fingernails gone. Once free, Brent stood up and looked around. Nothing was as it was. No trees were standing, no rooted plants, no life that he could see. Nothing! He looked at his compass to figure which was the right way out. As he got his bearings, he started thinking about the others.
He knew he was way out in front, or at least he thought he was. I hope they were above the slide when it started, he thought. It’s probably their only hope. Brent wiped those thoughts from his mind, just as he had been taught, and began thinking about his own safety and survival. The loose ground was so much more treacherous now to navigate. He squatted down, picked up a handful of dirt, and let it sift through his fingers while he surveyed the area.
“Never make a move, not one step, without a plan. Always have an exit strategy,” Seven would say. Brent suddenly heard his SAT phone vibrate in his backpack. Quickly, he tore off the pack and found his phone. Displayed on the LCD screen in bright red, were the numbers 128_49_7. Brent stared at it blankly. It has to be some sort of message, but what does it mean and who is it from? he wondered. Come on, think. Seve…that’s it! The message is from Seven. The first two numbers must mean his location, latitude and longitude. “That slick gap-toothed son of a gun! He’s giving me his coordinates,” Brent said out loud. Brent texted the message: “On way B.” Pulling his topographical map out of his pack, Brent plotted the coordinates Seven had supplied. He figured Seven was about a half-mile back up the mountain to his left.
Brent put everything back inside his pack and headed up the hill. That half-mile felt like ten—every step an adventure. Brent would go ten yards up and slide back six. He tried to dig in using his hands to stop each slide but his fingers were already raw and weren’t of much help. By the time he reached the coordinates, Brent felt as though his heart would blow out of his chest. His lungs burned and his breathing was labored. He just wanted to lie down and rest, but he knew there was no time for that.
As Brent surveyed the area, he could hear Seven say, “Remember, look at the big picture before concentrating on the details.”
He looked around but didn’t see anything at first. All that once was, was now gone. Come on, Brent, concentrate. He closed his eyes and placed himself in a meditative state. He slowed his breathing and his heartbeat so his level of concentration would be greater. When he opened his eyes, everything was clearer. Colors, or what was left of them, were more vivid and sounds and smells were more accentuated. As he scanned the empty area, he saw a branch, a very small tree branch, sticking out of the ground. Brent practically flew to the spot. He started digging as fast as he could, at the same time yelling,
“Seven, I’m here. Hold on. I’m coming!”
Four feet into the rubble, he saw Seven’s hand appear through the dirt. Brent squeezed it and it squeezed back.
“Thank God,” Brent said aloud.
With new energy, he dug faster. Once he’d freed Seven’s head, Brent slowed his frenzied pace. Seven’s eyes were closed. If it hadn’t been for him squeezing Brent’s hand, Brent would have thought he was dead.
“Seven, can you hear me?”
He nodded and, without opening his eyes, he said, “My leg’s busted up pretty bad.”
“Don’t worry. Together, we’ll get out of here.” Brent reached into his pack and removed his canteen. Lying next to the hole he’d just dug, Brent leaned in and placed the canteen to Seven’s lips. “Here, drink this. You’re going to need all the strength you’ve got left.”
For the next forty-five minutes, Brent dug around Seven, trying to free him from his earthly tomb while trying not to cause further damage to his leg.
“All right, buddy, that’s as good as it’s going to get. Now for the tough part. We need to drag your ass out of that hole.”
Standing outside the hole, Brent reached down and grabbed Seven by his wrists. “Okay, on three I’m pulling you out. There may only be one shot at this before it caves in, so hold on tight.”
Seven swore and said, “Shut up and pull.”
“Always the potty mouth, aren’t you. All right, here we go; one, two, three. Aaaahhh!” Brent grunted and pulled as hard as he could while he leaned and stepped backward to clear Seven of the pit.
“Nooo,” was the only thing to escape Seven’s lips before he passed out from the pain.
When Seven awoke, Brent had set the fracture and splinted his leg. “Nice work, professor,” Seven managed to get out as he surveyed his lower limb. Brent squatted about fifteen feet away.
“Yeah, well, I had to save your leg or change your name to Six.”
Seven laughed, “What do you say we get the heck off this hill.”
“That’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said.”
Brent found a sturdy branch for Seven to use as a cane. He helped Seven to a standing position, wrapping Seven’s left arm around his shoulder. They started their trek down the mountain to base camp. Once there and debriefed, Seven gave the last coordinates of where he thought the other two soldiers might be. Brent insisted on being part of the team that went back up the mountain to find them.
“Look, I know this terrain, at least the way it is now, better than anybody. If there’s any chance of finding them alive, I’m your only chance.”
The commanding officer looked at Seven. “As much as I don’t want him to go back up, he’s right.”
Seven nodded in acknowledgment.
“Here’s the plan,” said the commander. “Once you find them, call camp and we’ll airlift them off the mountain.”
Two days later and only by the grace of God, the other two soldiers were found alive and immediately airlifted to a nearby hospital. Brent was the last to leave the hill. After everyone had a chance to heal, Brent was promoted to captain and each man was presented with a commendation.
“Training is over,” Seven told the men. “You’ll remain as a unit with Captain Venturi as your commanding officer. Once in the field, as part of the Phantom Squad, your identities will be stripped. If you’re ever caught, you’re on your own. Understood?”
All three replied in unison, “Yes, sir.”
“One more thing. Now that training is over, don’t ever call me ‘sir’ again. I’m not your superior. What I am is your brother. This squad was originally meant to be made up of four men. That hasn’t changed. So, you’re stuck with me. Got that?”
No one said a word, they only smiled.
“Good, now get the heck out of here. You’ll be notified of our first assignment.”
After what seemed an eternity, Brent stood up and walked out of the doctor’s lounge.
CHAPTER 15
Brent went back into the ICU where two other police officers stood guard outside Lucille’s room. Susan walked over to him and delivered the news. “They gave the orders that no one, especially you, was allowed in her room until further notice. Sorry.”
Brent smiled a half smile and said, “That’s okay, you’re just doing your job. Is it all right if I sit out here?”
“I’ll make sure it�
��s all right,” she answered and squeezed his hand. She walked back into Lucille’s room. Brent sat down and rested the back of his head on the wall behind him. He closed his eyes and, before he knew it, he was fast asleep. It seemed like he had been sleeping for only a few minutes when Susan woke him by shaking his arm.
“Huh, wha,” he opened his eyes and focused on Susan’s face. “I must have fallen asleep.”
“I’d say. You were talking in your sleep and getting pretty loud. I thought I’d better wake you before you said too much.”
“What was I saying?”
“Most of it was incoherent. All I know is this Chloe must be someone pretty special.” She looked down at his left hand. No ring, she thought. “Is she your wife?”
Brent looked up at her and chuckled. “Ah, no, just someone I once knew.”
“I’d like to believe you, but no man calls out a woman’s name with that much passion while he’s sleeping unless he still wants to know her.”
Brent didn’t have a response. He sat there looking up at her with a blank look. Thankfully, she spoke before he could say something stupid. She handed him a cup of coffee. “Here, I thought you could use this.”
“Thank you,” he said and reached for the cup. “You have no idea.”
“Maybe you’ll tell me sometime.”
“Maybe,” Brent replied.
“I’d like that,” she said, turning to walk back to the nurse’s station.
“Hey, how is she?”
“She’s stable. I promise I’ll let you know when there’s any change.”
As she walked away, Brent looked at his watch; midnight. Wow, I must have been asleep for nearly three hours, he thought. He reached up with his free hand and rubbed his neck. No wonder I’m so stiff. Brent brought the cup of hot liquid to his lips and took a sip. His mouth puckered and his lips twisted to one side.
“She did say it was coffee, not good coffee,” he muttered to himself.
The next twelve hours were like an eternity. Nothing changed with Lucille. The guard outside her room changed every six hours. Brent drank more bad coffee and talked to the nurses whenever one was free. Susan left shortly after she had awoken Brent.
“See you in twelve hours,” she said. “Try to get some more sleep, but do it in the doctor’s lounge. Your dreams can be a bit distracting, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” he said, blushing a little. “See ya.”
Before he knew it, Nurse Collins was walking back into the ICU. Brent did a double take when he spotted her. Although she was in a nurse’s white uniform, she looked a lot different than she had the night before. Instead of a white jacket top and pants, she wore a dress that showed off her figure and her legs. She wore eye makeup and lip-gloss—things she hadn’t worn the night before. Walking up to him, Susan handed Brent a cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee.
“Nice to see you again, Brent. I see you didn’t get much sleep.”
He took the cup. “How’d you know?”
“Because you look like crap,” she said, flirtatiously.
“Thanks a lot. And, oh, it’s nice to see you again.”
That made Susan smile. The night nurse filled her in on Lucille’s condition and left for the day. Brent walked over to where Susan was sitting. Resting his elbows on the counter, he asked what the other nurse had told her.
“Any difference in her condition?”
“Not really. Sorry.”
“Not your fault. I appreciate the information.”
As they continued to talk, the double doors swung open. In walked Sergeant Owens and Officer Sullivan.
“Just the person I was looking for,” Owens said when he saw Brent.
“This can’t be good,” Brent said under his breath to Susan. “Forensics has finished going over the crime scene and it’s not looking good for you, Mr. Venturi.”
“I don’t care how it looks. I didn’t do anything but find her and call 9-1-1.”
“By the way, we’re having a hard time finding anything about you in the system. Not even a comparative on the prints.”
“Keep digging, I’m in there somewhere.”
The sergeant pulled out the notepad Sullivan had been writing in and started flipping its pages. “And how are you related to her again?” the sergeant baited him.
Brent had an idea that he was walking into a trap but he had no choice but to stick with the lie. “She’s my aunt. We’ve already been over this.”
The sergeant smiled like the cat that cornered a mouse. “We need to talk…downtown. You can come voluntarily or by force. Either one is okay by me.”
“I’m not going anywhere until my aunt wakes up.”
“Then by force it is. Cuff him, Sully.”
Susan stood up from behind her desk and said in a loud voice, “Unless you have a warrant for his arrest, you have no right to take him anywhere.”
“That’s right,” said a visibly upset Brent. “Let’s see the warrant.”
The sergeant didn’t look happy as he glared at Nurse Collins. “Mind your own business, sweetie, or I’ll report you to your superiors.” He looked over at Brent and Sully, then said, “Un-cuff him. Take the CSI report and Mrs. Conklin’s family records to the courthouse and get a warrant for the arrest of Brent Venturi on the charges of breaking and entering, aggravated assault and battery, and attempted murder of the aforementioned victim.”
Sullivan unlocked the handcuffs and said, “You want me to call for backup, Sarge?”
“No, I’ll be fine. I’ll just stay here and make sure he doesn’t run.”
While this was going on, the monitors in Lucille’s room lit up like a slot machine that had just hit the grand prize. Susan quickly called the other nurse and they ran into the room and shut the door behind them. Brent and Sergeant Owens watched intently through the glass.
“You’d better pray she doesn’t die,” Owens said.
Brent had already started. Nurse Collins drew the curtain around them as they continued working on Lucille. A doctor soon followed and disappeared behind the curtain. About ten minutes later, though it had seemed like hours to Brent, they heard a high-pitched, prolonged sound, the type a monitor makes when it flat-lines for a patient in cardiac arrest. Sergeant Owens looked at Brent.
“I’ll see you hang for…”
Suddenly, the curtain flew aside, and the nurses and doctor were smiling. Sergeant Owens opened the door to the room and yelled, “What the heck are you smiling about?”
“She’s awake and alert,” the doctor said.
“Then what is all that noise?” Owens yelled.
“We took the breathing tube out. I guess we forgot to shut off the respirator,” the doctor replied.
“Damn, you scared me to death.”
Nurse Collins glared at Owens. “Watch your mouth, Sergeant, or I’ll have no choice but to report you to your superiors.”
Owens’ jaw tightened and he curled his hand into a fist as he listened to his own threats being used against him. Through gritted teeth, he said, “If she’s awake, I have some questions for her.”
“That will have to wait. She only wants to talk to him,” Susan said, pointing her head at Brent. “Go ahead, Brent. She’s still very weak, so just a few minutes, okay?”
“Okay, thanks,” Brent said and walked to Lucille’s bedside. He sat down in the chair beside her. Her eyes were closed, so he reached over and squeezed her hand. She responded by gently squeezing back, and then she opened her eyes.
“Hey there, how do you feel?” he asked. She nodded her head as if to say okay, and in a weak voice, she asked Brent to raise the head portion of her bed to put her into a sitting position.
“That’s better,” she said.
“Do you know what happened, Lucille?”
“My memory is a bit foggy,” Lucille said, “but I
think I know. Tell me what you know and maybe it will clear things up for me.”
Brent took a deep breath and gently rubbed her hand. “I’ll tell you what I know, but if it becomes too painful, just tell me to stop, okay?”
Lucille fought back a tear and nodded her agreement. “By the time I arrived at your home it had been ransacked. I found you unconscious and tied to a chair in your closet.” Sliding his hand up to her face and lightly touching her bruised cheek, Brent continued, “You’re a very brave woman. Whoever attacked you left you for dead. Judging by the condition of your home, you didn’t give them the information they came looking for. They destroyed most of your belongings, but it didn’t look like they took anything. They were definitely looking for something specific. Do you remember how many there were and what they wanted?”
Her eyes filled and a tear rolled down her cheek as memories flooded back to her. “There were two. They wore masks, so I didn’t see their faces. They were looking for the formula, but I don’t have it, and I’m not sure where it is.”
“Huh? What formula? What are you talking about?”
She looked around the room and then focused on the people outside in the hall. “Please ask the officer in charge to come in.”
Brent was about to get up, but first, he leaned over the bedrail and kissed her lightly on her forehead. “By the way, I’m your nephew,” he whispered in her ear.
He turned quickly and walked toward the door, not wanting to see her reaction. Brent looked at Owens and told him Lucille wanted to speak to him. Owens looked up, puffed out his chest and strode into Lucille’s hospital room like a rooster in a henhouse. He made sure to shut the door behind him.
Though Brent couldn’t hear what was being said, he and Susan watched through the large plate glass window. As Owens talked, he pointed in Brent’s direction while Lucille nodded. The sergeant continued to talk, but Lucille’s facial expression turned serious as she mouthed the word no, shaking her head at the same time. The sergeant’s mannerisms and posture showed that he was disappointed with her answer.
