But the more he watched, something changed. The screams and wails no longer filled him with remorse, guilt, or sorrow. He wanted to cheer each time a bullet hit its target. The smell of death, decay, and loosed bowels no longer disgusted him. Oh, no. Instead, he accepted the stench. After all, life reverted to death for all at one point or another. Life became death. It was only natural. What was natural could not be evil.
He blinked as a man came into view. The man's lips moved. Gradually, the video faded to the background, and he could concentrate on the man's words.
"How do you feel?" the man was asking.
"Fine."
"What is your name?"
He hesitated, confused. "I don’t have a name."
The man smiled. "Do you remember my name?"
He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I do not."
"That is okay. You've been through a lot lately. Tell me. Do you ever wear a watch?"
He frowned, even more perplexed. "No."
"Married? Have a family? Your parents?"
"I have no one," he said.
"What about me?" the man asked.
He thought hard. It was only through taking in the syringe the man held, his white coat, and his stethoscope that he could recognize him. "Are you a doctor? My doctor?"
"I am. Don't worry. It's normal to be a little disoriented upon awakening. At least I think it is," the doctor mumbled. "You just had brain surgery, after all."
"Was it a success?" he asked.
"Oh, yes."
"Good, good." He hesitated and then asked, "I'm sorry. What's your name?"
"Doctor Sengo Despar. And you are Neil Soto."
"Neil Soto," Neil repeated.
"Now, you must rest more, Neil, so your brain can heal. Once you wake, we can start to see how you feel. Maybe you can walk some. Do some drills. Work those legs and arms. Get you moving. How does that sound?"
Neil smiled. "That sounds wonderful, Doc."
And Neil happily went to sleep.
>>><<<
Neil opened his eyes. He was still lying flat on the table as he had been when he first came too. There wasn't a video on like before. Nothing. Just peace and quiet.
He sat up and glanced around. His body felt completely fine. He felt completely fine. No. Better than fine. He felt fantastic.
After curling his toes, Neil stood. The floor felt cold, but the cold did not affect him. He took two longs strides and reached one of the tables in the room. All kinds of medical instruments lay on top. Most were dirty or covered in blood. Other supplies including blankets rested on the other shelves.
At another table, Neil spied pieces of broken glass and metal. Why was this worthless trash here? Beneath it was dog tags. They belonged to an N. Strongarm. Blood Type A positive. USMC. This N. Strongarm was a Marine. A smallish Marine. He only needed a medium-sized protective mask. A Roman Catholic.Religion. Huh. Neil's mind was as clear as could be, but he did not recall having a religious preference. All he needed was his orders.
Yes. Neil knew and accepted that he was a soldier.
Footsteps sounded. Neil gripped the necklace of the dog tags, holding them up. If they were thrown hard enough, fast enough, they would at least serve to confuse the opponent.
But it was no foe, merely the doctor.
Neil straightened and dropped the dog tags back onto the table. "I'm sorry. You startled me."
"And I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke," Doctor Sengo Despar said. His large, bug eyes narrowed when he glanced at the table near Neil.
"Who is N. Strongarm?" Neil asked.
"Nathaniel Strongarm," the doctor said, frowning.
Neil scowled, noting the doctor's frustration and anger. "Is he the reason why I'm here, why I needed the brain surgery?"
"Yes," the doctor said shortly.
"Does this Nathaniel Strongarm need to be put down?" Neil asked.
The doctor surprised him by smiling. "No. Nathaniel Strongarm is dead. Neil Soto is alive. That is all that matters. Now, do you think you are up to testing your abilities?"
"Abilities?" Neil asked, shocked. "What do you mean?"
The doctor's grin stretched even wider. "Just wait. You'll see. Are you ready?"
"Actually, I'm hungry. Do you have any food?"
"Would you like to follow me to the cafeteria?" the doctor asked.
Neil glanced around. For some reason, this room felt like home. The tile had a lot of stained blood on it. The gray stone walls were a comforting sight. The white ceiling where the images came from cemented his decision.
"I can eat here. You do not need to go to any trouble for me."
The doctor nodded, clearly pleased. "Wait here. I will have someone fetch us both food."
Neil stood, back rigid, arms behind his back. His biceps were so large that he could hardly clasp his wrist.
The doctor opened the door, murmured to someone, and closed the door again. He eyed Neil and clapped his hands. "Standing at attention. You are a soldier true and true. Once you eat and we commence your training, you can receive your orders."
"From you?" Neil asked.
Doctor Sengo Despar shook his head. "From Colonel Kronston Taer."
Neil nodded.
A knock at the door sounded, and the doctor rushed over. A man wearing a tan vest over a tan shirt and matching pants walked in carrying two trays. The doctor took both, and the man left.
"Are you comfortable sitting on the floor?" the doctor asked. "Or we can clear off one of the tables and eat standing up."
"Whichever you prefer."
The doctor chuckled. "So accommodating. Let's eat on the floor."
Neil inhaled his steak. It was rare, the blood gushing. The potato should've been cooked longer, and the vegetables had been overcooked, but Neil ate everything.
Wordlessly, the doctor handed Neil his plate. He hadn't taken a bite.
Neil inhaled his food.
Doctor Sengo Despar rubbed his chin. "I hope you haven't eaten too much."
"I'm ready for anything." Neil climbed to his feet and stood at attention once more.
"Follow me."
From the room, they walked down the hall to metal doors. The doctor punched in a code, they opened. The doctor led Neil down another hall. This door was an ordinary one, and the doctor opened it and gestured for Neil to go in first.
Neil stepped inside a dark, dank gym. At the doctor's command, Neil bench pressed six hundred pounds too easily. Eight hundred wasn't a problem either. He even managed to bench press a thousand pounds when the doctor said that was enough, typing away on his device. Where had he gotten it from? Neil didn't know, and he supposed that detail didn't matter.
From there, Neil moved on to squats. He completed five sets of five reps at the thousand-pound mark before adding more weight to find his max. Twelve-hundred pounds or even higher but the doctor instructed him to do deadlifts next.
Back down to a thousand pounds. Without a suit, straps, or hitching, Neil was able to do several reps. Still, the doctor typed away.
Next were arms. Neil loaded up plates onto the EZ bar, a little over two hundred. He managed several quality reps at that level. For triceps, he went back to doing bench presses, close grip this time, just over eight hundred pounds.
And finally, shoulders. For upright rows, Neil handled four hundred pounds. He did the same with standing military presses.
By the time he was done, Neil wasn't even sweating. He felt fine, and he told the doctor that.
"Actually," he said, "I'm hungry again."
The doctor laughed. “Why am I not surprised? Just thinking, Neil. This is just today. You can work on your muscles more, and increase your strength.”
“Yes, yes,” Neil said impatiently. He started to put the plates away.
The doctor shook his head. “Others can clean up the weights. Let’s get you more grub.” He headed for the door.
Neil hesitated.
The doctor turned around and raised his thick, white eyebrows in confusion. “Is
something wrong?”
“You mentioned training. I didn’t think you meant weight training. I’m a fighter. I’m not just a meathead.”
“Of course,” the doctor said soothingly. “I thought we would ease into things, but if you are feeling up to it, we can begin your training today.”
Neil rubbed his hands together. “Yes.”
After another two steaks and properly cooked potatoes and vegetables in a dank, dingy cafeteria, Neil finally felt full. He trailed behind the doctor down another hall, to the left then a right. Another man all in tan opened the door for them.
The doctor exited first, and Neil stepped outside. The sun was bright. They were in a small enclosure. The metal fence had coiled barbed wire at the top. Stones and sand bricks littered the sandy expansion. Neil frowned, confused.
“There are no shooting targets. There’s no one to fight against.”
“Just wait,” the doctor said.
A minute passed, and no one came out.
Neil tapped his foot as annoyance coursed through him.
“Patience should have been added. Next time,” the doctor muttered.
Neil wrinkled his nose in disgust. He did not appreciate that, but he knew better than to complain.
Suddenly, five men burst out the door and surrounded Neil. One at a time, he attacked and dropped them. A well-placed kick. A swift hook. A nasty uppercut. A leg sweep. A throw over his shoulder.
Neil sighed and turned to the doctor. “Have them come at me all at once.”
The doctor nodded, and the guys wordlessly climbed to their feet and attacked. Their blows, if they landed, did not hurt Neil. He just brought them down again just as easily as the first time around. The last two he made collide heads, and they went down hard.
Neil sighed again, even more disgusted. “Can I have a challenge please?”
The two guys who connected heads remained down. The other three left and returned with targets and a wide array of guns and weapons that Neil had never used before. Without needing to be taught how to use them, Neil hit the target repeatedly with every gun. The knives and other blades all hit the target too. The flamethrower? That torched the entire target.
“Not bad,” the doctor said, but the light in his eyes told Neil he was quite happy. “Tomorrow, we can begin your training. I’m sure that Colonel Kronston Taer would appreciate a demonstration soon. We must prepare.”
Prepare? That Neil could handle easily.
Chapter 8
The A-team arrived on the southern shores of the island without incident. Shauna and Alejandro immediately broke down the rafts. Who knew if the materials might come in handy? In this hot sun, the pieces would dry out in no time.
The Captain led the way. Everyone was on high alert, especially Shauna. Her nerves were calm. She had been trained for this. Go in. Be discrete. Save the man or men. Get out. Leave. Live to fight or rescue another day. Simple and straightforward. The military way.
Who they were rescuing couldn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. No one deserved to be under the thumb of the Hidden Serpents. They had already broadcasted how many kills now? It was terribly horrific what they were capable of. Even worse, their influence was spreading to other islands. ISIS and other groups were taking pointers from the Hidden Serpents. If every terroristic group in the world came under one thumb, it would mean terror, panic, fear, and devastation for the entire world. Hell, the Hidden Serpents were doing a fine job of that all by themselves.
How can men be so cruel to one another? It was a question Shauna often asked herself.
At a mile of marching, the Captain had them halt behind a line of scorched trees. A battle had been fought here, but no one else was here now.
Shauna took the moment to look over her gear. Everything looked ready to go, including all of the explosives she’d brought. Yes, over the years, some of her bombs had killed people. Sometimes, that was necessary. That didn’t mean she didn’t experience guilt because she sure did.
All of her life, Shauna found it almost too easy to forgive people. The teachers who thought she couldn’t handle heavy workloads. The guys who tormented and humiliated her for wanting to be an engineer. The men who thought she’d never hack it as a recruit. The idiots at bars who tried to pick her up by making inappropriate comments and unwanted advances. In her mind, the teachers didn’t want her to become burned out. The guys were ignorant and didn’t realize that women could be engineers too. The men, all but one of them, apologized after she made it through recruitment to become a private. The idiots were too immature to handle a real woman. She could forgive them for their oversights, for their prejudices, for their doubts.
But forgiving herself for killing the enemy? That she had to wrestle with.
Everyone deserved a second chance, but you had no more chances once you were dead. Ignorance could be corrected.
This isn’t about the Hidden Serpents being ignorant or brainwashed. They truly want to destroy the world. If anyone doesn’t deserve a second chance, it’s them.
All she had to do was remind herself of the images of the Hidden Serpents using kids as human shields. They were disgusting, repugnant, terrible human beings. All they wanted was devastation. They hated humanity and preyed on the entire world. They must be stopped no matter the cost.
But first, they had to rescue those of their own who were caught behind enemy lines.
“We will head for the last battle site,” the Captain said. His voice normally boomed, but now, he talked in a hushed, urgent tone. “West, are you listening to me?”
Shauna snapped to attention. “Sir, yes, sir.”
“Fiddle with your supplies later,” he dictated with a scowl. “As I was saying, we need to be on the alert. Most likely, they’ll not only assume that we’re heading there, but they’ll be planned and ready for us.”
“Why do we have to go to the battlefront?” Coral Nguyen asked.
“Do you have a better plan?” the Captain snapped.
“If I could tap into their communications,” Coral suggested.
“And how long will that take?” The Captain crossed his arms, glowering down at her so critically that Coral retreated a step.
“Too long,” she murmured before shooting Shauna a glance.
“We might already be taking too long,” Shauna said. She swallowed past a lump of fear in her throat. It landed in her frustrated and furious stomach that churned like a terrible, violent storm. It frightened her that she wanted to bomb the entire island if that would be required to locate her fiancé.
Maybe Alejandro has the right of it. Nuke the island and be done with it.
But there were too many teams here, too many units. They would all have to pull out, and if they did that, the Hidden Serpents would realize their plan. They would immediately counter with an attack of their own.
The Captain stroked his clean-shaven chin. “According to Lieutenant Colonel Arnold Padilla, the city Razun is in the center of the city. They had reclaimed it from the insurgents but were in danger of losing it once again. A classic move. Give and take. We need to balance our prerogatives. Yes, we need to find and elimiNathaniel their weapons, but we also have to take care of the innocents too."
"We should bring planes or boats and ship the civilians away," Alejandro said.
"But if we do that," Lela started.
"I know. I know. They're blowing up the plane or the ship. Damn it. We really can't just wipe the mat with them?" Alejandro asked.
The Captain glowered at him. "We are not here for the nukes or the civilians. That remains on the Marines, whichever Marines are still standing. We're here for CSAR. Don't ever forget that. And don't forget that I am your CO, so stop interrupting me or else I'll blow up your ass."
Alejandro snapped to attention. "Sir, yes, sir."
"You want me to blow up your ass?"
"No, sir."
"Then shut it. Since the Marines tried to reclaim the northern part of the city, several were captured. The city h
as almost fallen back into enemy hands. Sneaking in and out won't be easy."
Shauna glanced at Alejandro, who nodded. "Sir?"
"Go ahead, West," the Captain allowed.
"We could split off from the group and set up several bombs. We can light them up all at once. The resulting chaos should be enough for us to charge into the city."
"But we still don't know where the Marines are located." The Captain rubbed his throat. "Communications, we need you to break into their radio signals or however they're communicating. We need to know what they're up to."
"We can handle that," the two Communications Sergeants, Coral Nguyen and Mack Jacobs, said in sync.
"Intelligence and Operations Sergeants, start pulling your weight," the Captain snapped. "What else can you tell us that's useful?"
"The Hidden Serpents like to be in front of everyone, in your face,” Rozene Begay said. She was a stunning Native American who was strong and fierce even though she looked gentle.
Her fellow partner, Felipe Reyes, nodded. “That they haven’t announced to the world that they captured Marines means something. Either those Marines are fighting them tooth and nail or…”
Shauna did her best to be a proper soldier. “Or the Marines fought and died before they could get the cameras rolling,” she interjected.
“It’s possible they have another plan for the Marines,” Rozene rushed to add.
“Such as?” the Captain asked.
“They’re known for torture,” Felipe said quietly.
“As much as we want to learn what they’re up to,” Mack cut in, “they want to know what we’re up to as well.”
“What about an exchange?” Shauna asked. “If we captured some of theirs—“
“You want to negotiate with terrorists?” The Captain could not sound more disgusted.
“Regardless, we could capture some of them,” Shauna insisted.
“Every time we have,” Dawson Adams drawled, “they go ahead and kill themselves.”
Dawson was the other Weapons Sergeant. He grew up deep in the heart of the South, and his accent never left him. Dawson liked to claim that he was born with a shotgun in his hand and that he killed his first buck at age five. Shauna doubted that, but he was a man with a mission when it came to weapons. His specialty was his life. His girlfriend was called Betty, his favorite rifle.
Not on Her Watch Page 5
