Jacked

by Chance Carter

  Shit. We did supply runs at the same time every week, so they’d planned accordingly.

  “We’ll have to go around them,” I said. “Thanks for the Intel, private.”

  “Yes, Sir,” he said, and then saluted and ran to open the boom.

  “Protests, eh?” Jack snorted. “These townies sure love the U.S. Navy. Think they know what we sacrifice to keep them safe?”

  I kept my mouth shut and saluted the private, then drove under the boom and toward the town. I took a right once we hit main road and slowed to a crawl, glancing between the quiet buildings and stores at the road.

  “There,” Jack said, and pointed in the direction of the crowd. “They haven’t spotted us yet.”

  I brought civilian clothes just in case I needed to barter with someone to help Jack get our supplies – he wasn’t the politest dude around – but these folks, man, they looked mad enough to spit.

  We wouldn’t get much out of them, now.

  They marched up and down the road, chanting and holding signs.

  No, No, Navy Must Go!

  No More Secret Tests!

  Give Us Back Our Town!

  “Eloquent,” Jack said. “You think they came up with those themselves.”

  “I can respect what they’re doing. They have a right to voice their opinions, and they’re standing up for what they believe in.” I focused on the street ahead, again, and made for Chanel’s mother’s house instead.

  We’d start there, then head back into the center of Meek Springs once the crowds dissipated.

  “If you say so,” Jack said.

  The truck roared down the road and toward suburbia, away from the yells and marching. It was my experience that protests could turn ugly in a heartbeat. People who mobilized for a cause were already caught up in passion and excitement.

  The anonymity of a crowd brought a false sense of safety, and that equaled danger most times.

  I turned onto Chanel’s road and my pulse skipped up. Shit, I really wasn’t afraid of her mother, but the thought of making an ass of myself in front of her gave me the fear. I didn’t want to make a bad impression.

  I parked in front of the house, then opened my door. Jack followed suit.

  I stuck out my hand. “No, you stay here. I’ll handle these errands.”

  The Petty Officer First Class rolled his eyes and settled back again. “Suit yourself, man. Good luck.”

  I made sure to slap the door shut extra hard, and Whitmore’s responding yell brought me great satisfaction. I reached the front door of the Scott house, checked my uniform was neat and straight, then knocked, three brief raps.

  “One moment,” Mrs. Scott called out. Footsteps approached the other side of the door.

  I shook out my arms, relaxed my body, and assumed a professional pose.

  The latch clacked, and she appeared, an older, taller version of Chanel, but mean. Harsh, somehow, as if she’d been tried and tested and made it through her trials.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Scott.”

  “You’re that soldier.”

  “Lieutenant Commander Ryan Baker, ma’am. I’m sorry to bother you today,” I said, then drew the folded list from my pocket. “I’m here on behalf of your daughter, Chanel Scott.”

  Her face changed immediately, a flash of concern, and then downright anger. “Oh? And what does the little miss want?”

  “She asked that I fetch these items for her. I hoped you could help me ascertain them, ma’am,” I said, and handed over the paper.

  She unfolded and smoothed it out, then scanned it. Her expression darkened. “Some of these things are at the store,” she said. “I can’t help you with them.”

  “It’s my understanding that you have a key for Scott’s Interiors, ma’am. Miss Scott asked me to retrieve it, then fetch the items that she’s missing from there.”

  “Oh? Is that what she asked? You seem to be close with my daughter, Lieutenant Commander,” she said. “Whenever I see her these days, she’s with you.”

  I didn’t break a sweat. “I’m in charge of the project she’s working on, ma’am. I need her to have these things so she’s capable of finishing.”

  Mrs. Scott stared at me a little while longer, the paper quivering between her fingers. “Fine,” she said. “Wait here. I’ll get the key and what’s on the list.” She backed off, then slammed the door shut in my face.

  It was rude, but I thanked the stars that she wasn’t with the protestors in the center of town. Then again, that probably wasn’t her scene. I checked my watch and frowned. Given the delays in town, we likely wouldn’t make it back to the base in time to avoid the storm.

  I’d have to call Chanel and let her know I’d have her stuff back by tomorrow. I drew my cell from my pocket and sighed. My palms had grown clammy at the thought of it. Of hearing her voice and knowing she was up there without me, waiting.

  Chapter 17

  Chanel

  I swiveled in my office chair and frowned at the failing light, the gathering clouds. Ryan should’ve been back at the base by now. God, and he’d gone with that annoying Whitmore too. I couldn’t imagine what a long ride with that guy had to be like, and I didn’t want to.

  I brought my phone out of my desk drawer, unlocked the screen and checked the time. “It’s almost 6 pm,” I muttered.

  The cell trilled to life in my hand and I squeaked and tossed it upward. “Shit!” I caught it one-handed, then squinted at the name on the screen.

  Paula.

  I swiped my thumb across the screen. “Hello?”

  “Hey! I’m calling before the damn storm hits. I wanted to tell you what’s happening before you hear it from someone else,” she said.

  “What are you talking about? What storm?”

  “Huge one. Another of those kick ass bar-time blizzards,” Paula said. “Except I don’t have my party buddy with me to kick it at the local spot.”

  “Sorry,” I said, and my intestines twisted into a knot. The storm meant Ryan would either get trapped in it or have to stay the night. But if he decided to stay, why didn’t he call? Ridiculous. He wouldn’t call. He didn’t have a reason to call me. I wasn’t his girlfriend.

  “Knock, knock, are you there?”

  “Sorry, I zoned out for a second. You were saying?”

  “I’m not calling to tell you about the damn storm,” she said. “I’m calling because I think we might’ve made a wee bit of a problem.”

  “Since when are you Scottish?” I asked.

  “It’s my natural defense mechanism. When I’m freaked I return to my roots,” she said, in a thick, fake Scottish accent. “In all seriousness, though. I might have followed your advice about telling Timothy to back off a little too well.”

  “Oh my God, what did you do?”

  “So, remember how you told me to like, talk to Timothy and tell him to back off because you’re not interested?”

  “Yeah?” This couldn’t have anything to do with Ryan, so I allowed myself a little relief from the anxiety, and leaned back in my chair.

  Those ominous storm clouds roiled, a flash of lightning arched across the sky, but the thunder didn’t rumble just yet. The weather would be worse up in the mountains, but the base had generators in case of this type of thing.

  “Well, I kind of went a bit overboard. I confronted Timothy and asked him what his deal was. He told me the same shit, that he likes you and he wants to make you his girlfriend and all that crap.”

  “No offense, but this is really juvenile. What are we, back in high school?”

  “It gets worse,” she said, and her voice deepened. “I – uh, might have told him that you have someone to preoccupy you on the base. I didn’t mention names, but he probably figured it was the guy he sees you with all the time. The one that picked you up at your house.”

  I winced. “Are you kidding? Please, tell me you’re kidding. If you are, this is the worst joke ever.”

  “I’m not kidding.”

  “How do you
know he knows it’s Ryan?”

  “Because he mentioned him? Like he described him and he was really angry, and yeah that was this morning and, so, the rumor spread in town that they’re basically holding you hostage up there.”

  “What?!” How in God’s name did they make the leap from romance to abduction?

  “Yeah, I think Timothy believes the only way you’d choose another man over him is if you were like abducted or forced to or something.”

  “What an asshole,” I said, “but it’s okay, rumors are just rumors. Ryan can handle himself.”

  “I’m not done,” she said. “Uh, so, yeah. Everyone caught wind of the fact that you’re up there and all the anger about the base and the Navy just moving in and basically taking over the town –”

  “Taking over the town? That’s a crock!”

  “Yeah, you and I know that, but the rest of the peeps in Meek Springs don’t care. They want the Navy gone and they’re using this as an excuse. They’ve staged a protest today in the center of town, on Main Street.”

  “In one day? They managed to organize it in one day?’

  Paula sighed, and her breath rushed in my ear. “Yeah, well, it’s not like it takes much here. It spread and people came out of their homes and stores, and now it’s happening. I can hear them from here, listen.”

  I concentrated on the phone and blocked my other ear. Distant shouts echoed down the line, followed by the sound of the town alarm. “Oh God.”

  “They’re ringing the alarm to get everyone to go back inside now, since the weather’s coming in,” she said. “I had to call before the signal drops. I’m so sorry, girl, I feel like this is all my fault.”

  “No. It’s not. Okay, maybe you could’ve omitted a few facts, but it’s not your fault that Timothy is a giant, walking dildo.”

  “True.”

  I massaged my temples. “Ryan’s gone in to town today to get some stuff for me. I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “Okay, well no one’s done anything violent, so I’m sure everything’s fine.”

  Thunder rolled and lightning cracked again. The heavens opened above the base, and rain pelted down, drowning out our conversation for a second.

  “- go.”

  “What?” I yelled. “It’s just started here.”

  “I said, I have to go. I’ve got to check everything’s locked up before it starts. Stay safe.”

  “You too,” I replied, then hung up.

  God, what a mess. If only I’d convinced him to take me along, I might’ve been able to fetch what I needed myself and he’d be safe. Ugh, and then I’d have been with Whitmore in Meek Springs.

  I swiveled in my chair, and the lights flickered overhead. Soldiers ran for the safety of the base on the macadam outside the window. Light faded fast, it’d be pitch black soon. Another flash of lighting and then another.

  Each one elicited a small yelp from me. I couldn’t help it. I loved storms, but this one had me jumpy. I couldn’t flush the worry from my system – Ryan was out there, and Timothy was after him in some way.

  He’d probably never have the guts to confront him face-to-face, but there were others in Meek Springs who had more balls, so to speak. I clenched my fist around the cell and stared at the screen.

  The light flickered again, and I preemptively flinched for a lighting strike that didn’t come.

  My phone buzzed in my hand – I couldn’t hear the ringtone over the rain – and I gasped at Ryan’s name flashing on the screen. I answered. “Ryan? Are you okay?”

  “- couldn’t call earlier. Bad signal.”

  “Yeah, I know. The storm.”

  “ – hear me?”

  “Yeah! I can hear you,” I yelled. Not that it would help. “Can you hear me?”

  “Damn complications.”

  “What?”

  “- make sure you’re safe.”

  “I’m fine. When are you coming back?” I asked, and chewed the inside of my cheek. I’d never worried about someone like this before. It devoured me, this fear for his safety.

  “- assholes.”

  “What?”

  “ – gone crazy. Everything’s crazy. Just stay safe.”

  “Ryan, are you okay?” Paranoia kicked in. Who was crazy? Had the townsfolk gone crazy? I didn’t underestimate the power of people in groups, particularly closed-minded ones. “Are you okay?” I yelled, again.

  “ – no, Jack. Got to –”

  The phone went dead and I dropped it from my ear. My insides iced over. I didn’t like this one damn bit. I’d been worried before but this feeling was something else. He was in danger somehow. It had to be true.

  My gut told me so. I lurched out of my seat and tucked my cell – now without any bars at all – into the pocket of my puffy coat. I rushed for the exit, and the lights cut out.

  I stopped dead, my hand on the doorknob, heart pounding in my ears.

  A beat passed and then the lights flickered back on – the generators kicked in. Thank God. I opened my office door and scooted out into the hall, then rushed for the officer’s mess. Hopefully, someone would be in there having dinner.

  I entered and spotted Officer Jameson at one of the tables, a spoonful of stew halfway to her mouth. She spotted me and blinked. “Everything okay?”

  “No, not really,” I said.

  “You afraid of storms?” She put down her spoon and smiled at me, that easy smile that had drawn me to her in the first place.

  I couldn’t return it, now. “No,” I said. “No, it’s not that. It’s – listen, Ryan, I mean Lieutenant Commander Baker and Petty Officer Whitmore went into Meek Springs and I just received a call from a friend who lives in town.”

  “Something happened?” She sat straight and squared her shoulders.

  “I’m not sure. Apparently, there have been protests in Meek Springs today. Protests against the Navy base. I’m worried that something could happen to them down there. And with the storm, it’s just…” I trailed off. Dangerous. It was dangerous.

  “Miss Scott, I’m sure they’ll be fine. They’re used to difficult situations,” Jameson said. “They’ll be back once the storm has passed.”

  “I got a call from Ryan, see?” I shuffled forward and took my cell out again, showed her the received call. “He sounded angry on the phone. He mentioned crazy people and Jack. I don’t know what’s going on.”

  Officer Jameson studied me, up and down, head to toe, then sighed. “I understand why you’re concerned, Miss Scott.”

  “Chanel.”

  “I understand why you’re concerned, Chanel. I do. But there’s nothing we can do right now. The storm’s probably closed the road already. It’s not safe. You’ll just have to trust that the men can look after themselves.”

  I couldn’t accept that. “I’ll take a car down. Give me the keys to one of the trucks. They’re heavy duty, right? They can withstand weather like this.”

  “But you can’t drive in it,” she said. “I can’t allow you to go and I certainly don’t have the authorization to permit you to use an official Navy vehicle.”

  “But –”

  “Chanel, sit down, have some dinner, and relax.”

  “You take me then. You can drive the truck and –”

  “No,” Jameson said. “I won’t endanger lives on a fool’s errand. The Lieutenant Commander survived Afghanistan and active combat. Not to mention SEALs training. He’ll be fine. And Whitmore, eh, who cares about him anyway, right?”

  That brought a smile to my lips. Slowly, the racing pulse settled, my breathing slowed.

  “Seriously, take a seat, relax, have something to eat. All’s well that ends well.” Jameson gestured to the bowls and the pot of steaming stew at the other end of the room.

  My stomach grumbled in spite of the shitty situation. She was right. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do, even if Ryan was in trouble. All I could do was wait and find a way to pass the time.

  “Okay,” I said. “Okay, I guess you�
��re right.” I walked to the front to collect the food, my mind still turning over what Ryan had said. Was he in danger? Was he okay?

  I had to trust that Jameson was right. She probably knew him better than I did anyway.

  If she said he was okay, he had to be. Right?

  Chapter 18

  Ryan

  "How many blizzards can one town have in a month?" I mused, and shifted the beer on the coaster in front of me. I'd changed into civilian clothes at the motel because if I had to spend time apart from Chanel, I needed a strong drink.

  That was how bad my obsession with her had become. Was it obsession or addiction? I couldn't tell the damn difference. I didn't want to use the 'word.' The one that started with an 'l' and ended with an 'e.' If I did, it would be an admission that might break everything I promised myself I'd stand for after Iraq.

  Jack sat down across from me and gathered his coat. "Cold as a witch's tit in here, man. What a fucked up town," he said.

  "It's not all bad."

  "Right, because you're enjoying the stares from the townsfolk," Jack said, and nodded to the group of men and women at the bar.

  They'd come to hunker down for the storm and brought their suspicions with them. Where they'd bordered on rude in my encounters with them before, now they were downright unfriendly.

  They glared at us, even in our plain clothes, and muttered behind glass rims and bottles. An uneasy hum that drifted just below the rock music pumping from the single speaker in the corner.

  "Let's finish our drinks and get back to the motel," I said. "It's better if we don't cause trouble here." Things had gone really well at the base over the past few days. I didn't need the extra pressure that a negative interaction with the folks of Meek Springs would bring.

  "Hey, isn't that - I'm sure I recognize that kid from somewhere," Whitmore said, and gestured with his beer bottle.

  I followed his line of sight and settled on the blonde kid who'd harassed Chanel in the truck the other day.

  What did she call him? "Timothy," I said. "How do you know him?"

  "Oh, uh, he was at the bar the night we were here. Paula mentioned he was into Chanel," he said. "She said that he'd do anything to have her."