But only once they were in the field. While waiting for another assignment though, it was prudent to be as stiff and rigid as possible.
"I can't believe the Marines haven't been able to locate their weapons yet," Jones continued. Light reflected from his dark bald head. His beady eyes narrowed, and he flared his wide nostrils.
"They keep moving them—" Lela Glover started.
"No excuse," Jones yelled so loudly. Spit flew out of his mouth. He stomped back to the head of the table and slammed his fists down. Hunched over, he glowered at the group. "This is unacceptable. The Hidden Serpents are a threat to everyone. To the entire world."
"Whoever thought a tiny island might be the cause of so much terror?" Lela asked.
"We should just nuke the place and be done with it," Alejandro offered.
"With Marines in place?" Jones sneered. "You're a fool."
Alejandro shrugged indifferently. "I never claimed otherwise."
"Nuking them isn't an option," Lela said. "If we were to launch a nuke, it would cause other countries to panic. They might launch too.""I get that, but they'll be able to see the trajectory. Those countries will see that they're not the target."
"Grotto's Bay is far too close to Asia for Japan and China to be on board with a nuke launch," Lela countered. "Besides, if radiation enters the jet stream, it will spread around the entire globe."
"That won't happen," Alejandro protested.
"Are you certain about that? Are you willing to take that risk?"
"But radiation can only spread so far, I thought."
"For being an engineer, you need to read more." Lela sighed and wearily rubbed her face. Her black hair was pulled back in a severe bun. "There's no magic force field that stops radiation from spreading as far as it wishes."
"We're trying to prevent nukes from going off, not firing any," Jones barked. "The whole point of my calling you all in here is because I wanted to talk, not to listen to your jabbing. Now shut it, understood?"
Shauna and the others all nodded. There were eleven of them in here, including the Captain. The rest were all Sergeants, and although they were minus a Warrant Officer, they had all the makings of an A-Team.
"Everyone is on high alert, and you all need to be ready and prepared to ship off at a moment's notice. I have a feeling we'll be called in soon."
"For what purpose?" Shauna asked.
"Anything and everything," Jones said grimly. "Whether it's for foreign internal defense, hostage rescue, CSAR…"
Shauna gulped. Combat search and rescue meant one of their own or more than one was in danger.
Of course, a lot of them are in danger now. All of the Marines…
She placed a hand on her chest and tried to rub the ache away. Her fiancé was one of those Marines. If anything should happen to him, she'd never forgive him.
"Get the hell out of here," Jones snapped. "Get some rest and be ready to report nice and early."
"Yes, sir," they said in unison.
Shauna stood.
"Just a moment, West," Jones said.
"Sir." She stood at attention.
Once everyone cleared out, Jones waved at her. "At ease. Are you sure you can handle this?"
Shauna didn't move a muscle. "Sir, yes, sir."
"Isn't your fiancé down there?"
"Yes. That's all the more reason for me to go. No one will be more determined—"
"Or as reckless," he pointed out.
She grinned. "Don't confuse me with Fernandez," she joked.
The only hint of the Captain's amusement was a slight twitch of his lips. "You'll be needed to keep your head on straight at all times, no matter what happens?"
Shauna bristled. "I'm not some princess that is going to run and forget protocol because of being deployed in the same are as my fiancé. You don't have to worry about me, sir."
"I'm not worried. I'm never worried. I only have the best on my squad. Now get out of here. I don't want to see your ugly mug any longer!"
Shauna nodded, did an about face, and rushed out of there so he wouldn't see her grin. He always said everyone had an ugly mug. It was almost a compliment and not an insult.
Lela had hung back, and the two of them headed back to their room. The Weapons Sergeant's shoulders were a little slumped, and it seemed as if a dark cloud hung over her.
Shauna bumped her shoulders into Lela's. "What's going on?"
"My mom called before the meeting. Her cancer's back."
"Oh, no. What are her options?"
"She needs to have a bone marrow transplant. It's her only chance."
"Does she have a donor?" Shauna asked.
"Family is her best bet, but neither of my sisters is."
Shauna grimaced sadly. "Are you?"
"Mom doesn't even want me to be tested. She was a Green Beret herself. She knows that our country comes first, but… Is it terrible of me to want to at least be tested?"
"Of course not."
"But if I'm not a match…"
"What if you are?"
"That opens another can of worms. Hell, Mom might refuse my bone marrow."
"Oh, so you get your stubbornness from her, huh?" Shauna asked.
Lela gave a slight grin. "You can say that.
Shauna gripped Lela's shoulder. "Life's too short to live with regrets. You'll always wonder and worry if you don't get tested."
The Weapons Sergeant nodded. "I know, but if we're shipped out tomorrow, who knows if I'll make it back in time to get tested. Mom might…"
"Life's too short to worry about possibilities that might never happen. And it's also too short to allow those two slices of chocolate cake I pulled aside in the mess hall. Let's go grab them before Alejandro finds them."
Lela chuckled even though her black eyes remained sorrowful. "I can always go for chocolate."
The duo rushed to the mess hall. Unfortunately, Alejandro was already there, sitting on a table in the back, digging into one of the slices.
Shauna slapped him and yanked the other slice before he could devastate it too. Alejandro ate as if the world was going to end if he didn't finish eating within thirty seconds.
"That wasn't meant for you," she said angrily.
Alejandro hesitated, and half of his forkful fell back onto his plate. "You want the rest?"
She eyed the destruction that had once been a perfect slice of chocolate cake. "No thanks," she said dryly.
Alejandro shrugged and resumed eating.
"You can split mine," Lela offered.
Shauna grinned at her before narrowing her eyes critically at Alejandro. "Go ahead and enjoy."
"But you want me to choke on mine. I get it." Alejandro sighed dramatically. "I get no respect."
"Respect needs to be earned," Lela said.
"Yeah, well, I try, okay? It's not easy being this awesome." Alejandro flexed.
"You might look more impressive if it weren't for…" Shauna pointed to his mouth.
He brushed the crumbs away and sighed. "You two are killing my mojo."
"That's assuming you had any mojo to begin with," Shauna teased.
Lela laughed.
Shauna grinned, but Lela's smile died almost immediately.
"I need to make a phone call." She placed her half-eaten slice on the counter and rushed away.
"What's with her?" Alejandro asked. "I've never seen her like that before."
Shauna hesitated. "It's not my place to say."
"It's her mom, isn't it. Damn. Cancer can suck—"
"You know about her mom?"
"Shauna, you act like I'm a monster. I'm not." He ate the rest of his slice and then eyed the other plate. "Are you going to eat that?"
"No."
"Then I will." He reached for it.
She slapped his hand. "No. I'll save it for Lela, and you will not touch it."
He grumbled, "Who made you the cake monster?"
"Those were my slices!"
"Yours and Lela or your yours? You p
ulled them both aside for you, didn't you? Admit it!"
"Maybe I did. So what? Karma got me. I get nothing now."
Alejandro stood and removed a Snickers bar from his back pocket. "Who says Karma doesn't love you?"
She snatched it from him. "It's a bit melty."
He rolled his eyes. "I can't win for losing. You know, you could accept it and thank me for thinking about you, but no. I get grief no matter what I do."Shauna laughed.
"Eat it. You think it's melty now? Just wait until we head over to Grotto's Bay. I hear it's sweltering."
"You wouldn't think it would be so desert-like considering it's an island," she murmured as she unwrapped the candy.
"You wouldn't think a lot of things. Seriously. How did we not know about the island? And it's not even as if ISIS and other terrorist groups moved there to set up shop. Nope. No baddies. When will they ever learn? Haven't they watched any movie? The good guys always win."
"Life isn't a movie," Shauna pointed out.
"Sure, it is. There's a beginning, a middle, and an end."
"There's no soundtrack," she jested.
He winked. "If you want me to follow you around and be your music for you, I will."
"You do that, and I'll shoot you."
"Oh, come on. Let's see. Hm. What kind of scene is this? I don't know. But there would be a lot of laugh track because I'm the comedic relief."
She groaned. "Why am I not surprised that everything comes back to you?"
"That's how the world goes, darling. I'm the hero."
Shauna grinned and rubbed her wrist. She never wore a watch, but she'd given her true hero one. Maybe she'd be deployed. Maybe she'd see him before they were supposed to be given leave together for their wedding. Maybe life really could play out like a movie in this instance. Lela's mom could get her bone marrow. Shauna could marry her love. The war would be stopped, and the Hidden Serpents dismantled.
"Maybe I'll find myself my heroine over at Grotto's Bay," Alejandro said.
Shauna snorted. "Keep dreaming because if you keep eating like this, you're going to have to be rolled out of the plane."
"Come on now," he protested. "I'm all muscle."
Laughing, she shook her head.
"You shouldn't poke fun," he grumbled. "You have your hero already."
She grinned but bit her lower lip.
"Don't worry. He'll be fine. He knows he'll have to answer to you if anything happens."
Now, Shauna did laugh. Maybe she'd do a little bit of wedding plan tonight. For some reason, she hadn't been able to bring herself too yet. It wasn't that she wasn't eager to get married. She was so excited to finally take that ultimate step. But, deep down, she was worried. She was scared.
Because if she were to also go to Grotto's Bay, the situation was dire, terrible, and hopeless. There was a chance that neither she or he would make it back to the States alive.
I just gotta believe and hope that Alejandro is right. That the good guys always win and that there still are happily ever afters.
Chapter 3
Bitter coldness woke Nathaniel. His body was shivering. His clothes. Where were they? Wherever he was, utter darkness prevented him from being able to see. It frightened him to see the same thing whether his eyelids were open or closed, so he closed them.
Trying to rein in his confusion and his rising panic, he felt his body. No shirt. No dog tags. No pants. Just boxers.
And his watch. He gripped his arm tight to his chest, his right hand clasping the watch. The place he was held in was so quiet that he could hear the faint ticking above the furious pounding of his heart.
Nathaniel swallowed and nearly gagged. The corners of his lips were bleeding, and the taste of blood nauseated him. All he wanted to do was go to sleep, but he was too cold. The floor felt hard like stone or pavement. There was no window, no source of light.
It took Nathaniel three tries to be able to stand. Hands out, he touched the four walls. On the last, instead of stone, he felt metal bars.
A prison.
He was a prisoner. Worse, he was a prisoner of war.
Nathaniel sat and took stock of his injuries best as he could. One terrible head wound at the back of his head that was still oozing blood. A cut on his temple. The busted lip. His one ankle felt weak, and his left shoulder didn't appreciate it when he lifted his arm. All in all, though, he could be in a lot worse shape.
Why was he so cold though? That he couldn't figure out. The stone floor was uncomfortable, but it felt room-temp.
Time passed, maybe an hour. Nathaniel’s body felt stiff and rigid as he forced himself to stand. Once more, he walked around the perimeter of the cell. This time, he tried to find any loose rocks or anything else he could use as a weapon.
No such luck.
Of course not.
Nathaniel refused to give into despair. To keep his body fit and active, he lowered himself to the ground and did as many push-ups as he could. Then, he moved onto sit-ups. Once his abs started to burn, he used the cell bars for leverage to do pull-ups.
Now that his chest, abs, and back were worked, he moved onto his legs, alternating between lunges and squats. He wasn't trying to overexert himself. If his captor were to come at any minute, he didn't want his body to be sore. No. He wanted to be loose and nimble and ready and willing to bust his way out of here if the opportunity presented itself.
Because Nathaniel refused to die here. He rejected that future. No. He and his fiancée would get married as soon as he returned home. Nathaniel could already picture her dark hair curled. Knowing her, she would probably leave it long instead of twisted up. She hardly ever wore makeup, but maybe she would for the wedding. Her skin was tan all year long and would look amazing contrasted with a white gown. He doubted she would opt for a lot of layers or lace.
Already, he could imagine sweeping her into his arms for a deep kiss, the first kiss as husband and wife. He would dance all night with her and never leave her side.
Maybe he should hang up his dog tags. Maybe it was a sign that he'd lost them. Or maybe they'd been stolen. Either way, his dog tags were gone. His link to the military had been devastated. But his link to his love? That remained viable. That remained loyal and strong, and all of the power within him kept him going, fueled by his love for her.
I will return to you. I promise.
He'd said those words to her in the busy airport. She'd flung her arms around him and kissed him soundly. Others had laughed or cheered. Several thanked him as he boarded the plane. His father and grandfather had also been Marines. It was in his blood.
All his life, Nathaniel assumed he would follow in their footsteps, and so far, he had. But both of his forefathers had made a career out of the military. Should he? Maybe he could leave and enter the private sector. Be a bodyguard. That might be fulfilling.
A memory stirred from a few days ago. A young girl, maybe eight, had somehow stumbled onto a battlefield. Nathaniel had Leon and Jacob cover for him as he rushed over. The girl clung to him as if he were air, and she needed him to survive. The poor thing wouldn't stop trembling, and she refused to be put down for a solid half hour. She hadn't answered any questions verbally, just shook her head or nodded. The girl never made eye contact. She ate some food, drank some of their precious water, refused to be washed, and ran off.
I hope she's all right.
Could he do it? Could he turn his back on those who needed his help the most? That was what it meant to be a soldier. To fight for land, for liberty, for freedom. It meant pushing yourself to your limits, going above and beyond, and fighting without surrendering.
Nathaniel had no intention of surrendering. Not now. Not ever.Who knew if the choice would be made for him, though?
>>><<<
Maybe Nathaniel slept because the next thing he knew, bars were creaking. He rushed to his feet. Legs hip-width apart, knees bent, fists raised.
"Are you going to fight me?" a slow voice drawled. There was a hint of an accent, the
words said unhurried and with great ease. The speaker seemed to have no worries or cares at all.
Far be it that the case for Nathaniel. He was anxious and fearful, but he did his best not to show it.
"Lower your fists, son."
Nathaniel growled. Anger burned through him, although his body remained feeling cold.
"I'm not your son," Nathaniel growled in the direction of the voice.
"Ah. Fancy yourself a fighter, do you? Fight this."
A baton or stick struck the back of Nathaniel’s right knee. It buckled, and he nearly went down.
"Good balance," the man said. "Do you have a good tongue as well?"
Nathaniel pressed his lips into a thin line. He would not say another word. Although he hated to do so, he did lower his fists and stood at attention. He stared straight ahead instead of at an angle toward the man.
"You will start by giving me your name."
Nathaniel held perfectly still, indifferent to the man's request.
"No? We know your name is Strongarm. Shall we see how strong your arm truly is?"
At once, someone rushed Nathaniel from the right. The speaker was to the left. How many were in here?
Everything in Nathaniel screamed in him to fight back, but he refused to do so. It would only make the beating that much worse. To be honest, they were not beating him. They were bending his arm behind his back, trying to break it. Nathaniel was bent over, wincing, trying to count the seconds down until he could see his love again.
"Enough," the man said as if unperturbed by the display of violence. "Let us try that again. What is your first name, Strongarm? Or don't you remember?"
Nathaniel tried not to swallow.
"Tell us your name. How hard is that? A simple question. Believe me. Not all of them will be so easy for you. I suggest you cooperate. Last chance. Your first name if you please."
Nathaniel gritted his teeth.
"Very well." The faint whisper of fabric sounded. Had the man waved his hand? Could the others see? Nathaniel’s eyes could not adjust to this complete darkness.
This time, two came at Nathaniel, and they succeeded in breaking his arm. Nathaniel could not help crying out. As much as he tried to cling to hope concerning his love, all he felt was fear and anxiety.
Not on Her Watch Page 2
