by B. B. Hamel
I was smiling for the camera, my hair in pigtails, a big clod of dirt in front of me. I was maybe five or six, and you could tell that I was just about to topple over into the mud.
It was my dad’s favorite picture of me. He carried it with him in his wallet.
“This is me,” I said. “I mean, when I was a kid. My dad usually carries it.”
“Usually?” Emory asked.
“Always. He always keeps it.”
Travis and Emory exchanged a look.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s another clue,” he said. “We must have just missed them.”
“My dad was here?”
“There are some used glasses in the bathroom and the shower is still wet,” Travis said. “We must have missed them by an hour, tops.”
“How did they slip out?” I asked.
“Likely went around the back or some other way we didn’t know about,” Emory answered, crossing his arms.
“What do we do?”
Emory and Travis exchanged looks again, and then Emory sighed. “We have to assume the worst. It’s happening, Tara. We’re going after them.”
I sat down on the bed, feeling numbness spreading all throughout my body.
I understood exactly what he meant by that. The Network was making its move, and they were making it tonight. They were taking my dad with them and they were doing something horrible. They were going to try to melt down a nuclear reactor, and if that happened, then the whole Michigan area was going to be a nuclear wasteland. Hundreds of thousands of people would die.
And we were all that stood between the terrorists and that happening.
“I’ll prep the gear,” Travis said, standing. He left the room, shutting the door softly behind him.
Emory sat down on the bed next to me. “Listen to me, Tara,” he said. “You have to stay behind.”
“No,” I said. “I can’t. I’ve come so far. My parents are so close.”
“Listen to me,” he said, taking my face in his hands. “I’m going to leave you some money. Go buy a room here in this hotel. If we’re not back in two hours, or if you hear something in the direction of the nuclear plant, you get in that car and you don’t stop driving until you hit Mexico.”
“Emory,” I said, and it came out half a whisper.
“Stop, Tara,” he said firmly. “You have to do this. You said you’d follow orders, right?”
“I can’t lose you.”
He looked at me, and for the first time I felt like he was really seeing me.
His expression softened. His lips came near and brushed my cheek, stopping against my lips. I pressed myself into his kiss, grabbing his strong body, pushing myself against him.
We kissed like that for what felt like fifteen minutes. Slowly he pulled away, and I was left panting, gasping for air, desperate to feel him just a little bit longer.
“You won’t lose me,” he said. “I’m not going to let that happen.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Listen to me, Tara.” He took me by the hair and pulled me toward him, his lips brushing against my ear. “I fucking love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”
He gently let me go, but I pulled myself against him again.
I held him like that until he finally moved back and stood.
“Emory—” I said, but he stopped me.
“Tell me when I get back.”
I bit my lip. “Okay.”
“I’ll see you soon. And remember, two hours unless you hear or see something.” He left a small wad of money on the television stand and then disappeared out the door.
I sat there staring after him for a few minutes. I tried to move, willed myself to go after him, but I knew I was doing the right thing. He was going somewhere I couldn’t follow, about to do something I couldn’t help with.
This last part was completely up to him.
And he loved me. The idea of that flowed through my body, giving me some of his strength. He loved, and I loved him too. That was the truth, always had been, from the second I saw him back at my door.
He’d come back to me. He was Emory Rush, SEAL captain.
He’d make things right and come back for me.
Chapter 30
Emory
As Travis tore fast through the back streets, angling toward the power plant, I held the phone up to my ear.
“Blackfire,” he said.
“Sir, it’s Emory. We have reason to believe that The Network is attacking the power plant tonight.”
“Shit,” he said.
“Any ETA on that backup?”
“Your team is en route now, about three hours out. I have a gear specialist in the area.”
“Send him to us. Have him meet us on Highway Thirty, right next to exit twelve.”
“Got it,” he said.
“We can’t wait for the backup, sir. We’re going in.”
“Roger that, soldier. Good fucking luck to you both.”
“Thanks, sir.”
“Give them fucking hell.”
I hung the phone up and looked at Travis. “Hear that?”
“Exit twelve, got it. What’s there?”
“Weapons guy. We’ll gear up quick and then hit the plant.”
“Got it.” He paused. “Really think they’re hitting it tonight? They could have just left that spot.”
“It’s tonight,” I said. “I’m sure of it. My gut is screaming about it.”
“I know I always trust your gut.”
I grinned. “Never been wrong.”
We drove on, moving fast. Every second we wasted was a second closer Omar Hooth got to blowing up a nuclear power plant, and I couldn’t let that happen.
My mind drifted back to Tara as Travis passed exit six. I couldn’t stop thinking about the look on her face, the serious and intense worry. When I told her that I loved her, I wasn’t saying it to hear her say it back. I was saying it because I needed her to understand that I was coming back no matter what.
I loved her, and I wanted to be with her. I wanted to raise Mason, to hold him, to teach him how to be a man. I wasn’t running away from my responsibilities, wasn’t turning my back on my own son. Over the last few days I’d seen again and again how strong Tara was, and I’d realized how much she meant to me.
She was incredible. Her body, her lips, the way she fucked and sucked me. But more than that, I was amazed by the way she took care of Mason, by the way she tried to take care of everyone around her. She so easily could have gone running and never looked back, but instead she stuck through this.
I wanted that in my life. No, I fucking needed it. Every time I held Mason, I knew I was falling in love with him and his mother. Every time I looked at him, I knew I wanted to make sure he was taken care of, that I was always there for him and Tara.
I told her that I loved her because she had to know that I was coming home no matter what. I was coming home to her.
I knew what she was going to say back to me, but I didn’t want to hear it, because I wanted something to keep me going, something for me to look forward to. And fuck if I wasn’t looking forward to hearing her whisper in my ear how much she loved me as I fucked her tight cunt again and again.
Travis pulled the car off the road just before exit twelve. We moved back toward the tree line and killed the engine, waiting. About five minutes later, a second car pulled up behind us, this one a big black passenger van.
We stepped out of the car and walked toward it. The van doors opened and a short man, maybe five foot four at most, stepped out. He was round in the middle and balding, probably in his mid-sixties.
“They call me the Gun,” he said.
“Well, Mister Gun, I’m Emory.”
“Come on,” he grunted, and he led Travis and me to the back of his van. He threw the doors open and gestured inside. “Take what you want.”
I felt like a kid at a fucking candy store. The whole van was full of tactical equipment: rifles, pistols,
silencers, grenades, vests, even a bazooka. It was the wildest arsenal I’d ever seen in my life, all packed into the back of this van.
Travis quickly selected a high-powered silencer sniper rifle. I picked out a smaller submachine gun with a silencer, an extra pistol, two hand radios for communication, and a belt of stun grenades.
“Fine choices,” Gun said as we stepped back out of the van.
“Thanks, Gun,” Travis said.
“Anything for America.”
We turned to leave, but Gun quickly ran in front of us.
“Hold on, hold on. One last treat. Here you go.” He held out a folded up map.
I took it. “This is?”
“The power plant. Blueprints. Heard you were going there, so I snatched these for you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Snatched?”
“Stole, whatever. Want them or not?”
I grinned at him. “Thanks.”
He nodded, turned, got back into his van, and then drove off.
“What a weird guy,” Travis said as we got back into the car.
“Contractors,” I mumbled. “We’re always outsourcing to contractors these days.”
Travis laughed as he pulled back into traffic and we drove off to battle.
We left the car in an outcropping of trees about a half mile away from the power plant. We set off at a jog, heading closer and closer to the fencing line that surrounded the plant.
The night was clear and cool as we moved. Even weighed down with guns and gear, we still were moving at a pretty brisk pace. I guessed Omar couldn’t move as quickly as we could, since he was dragging along Tara’s parents and whoever else he had in his group.
That was the only advantage we had. They were stronger in numbers, though we were stronger in training. I had to hope that was going to be enough.
Soon we made it to the perimeter fence. It was tall and topped with barbed wire, though that didn’t always mean you couldn’t get in.
“Plan?” Travis asked.
“You head left; I’ll head right. Radio me if you find an entry point.”
“Roger.”
“Switch your radio to six.”
He nodded, fiddling with his radio. “Got it.”
“Radio if you find something.”
Travis melted into the darkness without another word.
I set out, sticking low and moving fast. I didn’t know if Omar was inside already or not, so splitting up was a risk. If we stumbled across Omar’s group, or if he had left guards behind, we might be at a huge disadvantage.
I couldn’t help but have nagging doubts. Alone in the dark, skirting along the fence, I kept thinking to myself how maybe I’d fucked up, maybe I’d picked the wrong target. But no, that picture in the motel had all but confirmed it for me. This was the only thing that made any sense.
And still, as I moved along the fence line and saw nothing, those nagging doubts ate at me. I couldn’t fuck this up. I couldn’t fail now when I’d never failed at a mission before. Granted, this was very, very different from any other mission I’d ever been on, but it was also the most important.
And then my radio cracked to life. “Captain, found a breach in the fence. Over,” Travis said.
“Stay there. On my way. Over and out.”
I clipped my radio to my belt and turned, heading back toward Travis at a fast jog, relief spreading through me. A few minutes later, I spotted him up ahead, crouched down next to the fence.
I stopped and moved up next to him. He spread the fence wide open. “Someone cut in here,” he said. “Did a thorough job. Looks recent too. See how shiny?”
I looked closely, and sure enough the links were shiny. “Okay. This is where they went in.” I pulled out my map. “We came down here.” I pointed. “That means we’re just about . . . here.”
Travis nodded. “And look. Control room.” He made a direct line with his finger.
“Shit,” I said.
“Plan?”
I thought for a second and then nodded. “You go this way, with your rifle. I’ll head in up this way. We’ll trap them here.”
He nodded as I pointed. “Piece of cake.”
I put the map away and then slipped in through the fence. Travis came on my heels as we ran across the space, keeping as low as we could.
There was a single door ahead marked by a red emergency light. I couldn’t hear any alarms, so unless they had somehow disabled them, we were still in time. I pressed myself up against the wall as Travis gently pushed the door open.
It moved inward with no problem. “Clear,” Travis said.
We moved inside together into a long, dimly lit hallway. It was a service tunnel, meant for cleaning staff and maintenance crew. From the looks of the door, Omar’s crew has used thermite to cut through the heavy-duty lock.
We got to the end of the hall. There was a T-junction there, and we stopped in the middle.
“I leave you here, cap,” Travis said.
“Got it. Good luck.”
“Be careful. I’ll be watching.”
I nodded, turned, and left. I heard Travis’s footsteps softly pad away from me, heading in the opposite direction.
I knew I was getting close. I could feel it in my fucking bones. Omar was nearby, so fucking close that I could practically taste him.
Up ahead was another door, this one unlocked and left slightly ajar. I guessed that Tara’s dad was opening doors from the inside with his clearance, which was likely his main purpose.
I moved in through the door and stopped. Ahead, I heard something, footsteps. I ducked down a side corridor as two men turned the corner up ahead of me.
I kept myself flat against the wall, hidden in the shadows. They paused briefly, looking down the hallway, and I saw the glint of metal in their hands.
They weren’t employees of the power plant, unless employees carried guns.
I took aim with my pistol and fired four shots in quick succession. My first two took the first man in the head, and my next took the second man in the head and the chest. Both men toppled to the ground.
I moved forward and paused by them. Neither was Omar Hooth. I moved down the hallway, inching closer to the control room.
I felt calm, like I was floating through the ocean. This was my natural habitat, living on the edge between life and death. I was a warrior in my element, and as soon as those first shots were fired, nothing else mattered.
I came to the end of the hall. There were plenty of side doors I could have gone down, but I stuck to the map in my head. I knew that Omar and his men would be moving toward the control room, and that was something we wanted.
I pressed myself against the door and peeked through the window. On the other side was a long hallway, and ahead I could see a small group of people moving forward.
My heart leapt in my chest. That was Omar’s group, without a doubt, heading toward the control room. We were right behind them, barely a step back. If we had waited just a few more minutes, we might never have caught them.
No time to worry about that. I unhooked a grenade from my belt, opened the door a crack, and rolled it down the hall.
The grenade moved slowly toward them, making a clinking noise. One of the men turned and spotted it.
“Fuck! Grenade!”
I ducked down as there was a loud boom, deafening in its roar, and an incredibly bright white light spilled out from the window.
It disappeared as soon as it had appeared. I waited a couple seconds and then pushed the door open.
Bullets riddled the door around me, forcing me back. The men were firing serious rifles, and the bullets bit through the metal and the wood all around me. I peeked again and saw the group moving farther down the hall, and I didn’t bother trying to return fire yet. The two men in the back were spraying my end of the hallway with bullets, not even aiming.
As the group got to the end of the hall, I made my move. I took aim and fired a few shots, catching the one man in the chest. He stumbled back
and I fired again, hitting his skull. Blood sprayed back as he collapsed onto the floor.
The group retreated through the door at the end of the hall, slamming the door shut behind them.
I moved into the hall, sticking close to the wall, my gun up and ready. I made it to the door and pressed myself against the wall. I took the radio from my belt.
“Travis,” I said. “In position. Over.”
“Roger that, cap,” he said. “I can see the buggers. Over.”
“What do you see? Over.”
“It’s Omar all right. The parents are there, looking scared but fine. Six other men, serious firepower. Over.”
“Fire when ready. Over.”
I could hear the joy in his voice. “Roger that, cap. Over and out.”
I took deep breaths, waiting. This was the plan, what we’d wanted the whole time.
I was never meant to stop them from getting to the control room, but I was supposed to slow them down if I could and eventually herd them in there. Unfortunately, I was too late to slow them much, but I was able to thin the crowd a bit while Travis got into position.
The control room was built in one far wall overlooking the core. Around the core was scaffolding for maintenance crews to do routine fixes on the core itself. There wasn’t any radioactivity in that room, only deeper down beneath the shielded concrete layers.
That scaffolding was perfect for a sniper. The control room’s front was all glass and totally exposed. We’d never have known this if it weren’t for those blueprints, and I mentally thanked that strange little man.
I heard the first shot. Well, not the shot, but the accompanying panic. There were shouts as Omar’s men tried to find cover from Travis’s bullets, but there was nowhere to go.
The door flung open and three men stumbled through. I killed the first two easily, my bullets tearing them to pieces. Their bodies fell on top of the third man, and so I was forced to get up close. He fired back at me, missing, hitting the ceiling as I kicked away one of the bodies and plunged my knife into his heart.
I whirled, gun ready, as the man beneath the bodies expired. Nobody came out, but the shouts were still happening. I looked in through the window and saw Omar’s group scattered, down to three men, the parents, and Omar himself. They were pressed up against the wall, and it looked like Travis couldn’t get a line on them.
