by Laura Acton
Milkshake Mix and Grenades
20
September 15
TRF HQ – Briefing Room
Things became heated while discussing the first call. Escalating rage and volatile subject matter kept the entire team on edge. Most of them never experienced a debrief this emotionally charged. Nick recalled the only one which came close. The one after Burl’s actions which resulted in his death and Jon and Jason shot.
Hyper-focused on Broderick’s failure to comply with his tactical plan, Jon ranted, “If he only stayed put instead of rushing in half-cocked, none of them would’ve tumbled down the muddy slope. His recklessness caused injury to a hostage and knocked the subject unconscious.”
Bram conceded Jon’s point, but only to a degree. Jon wore blinders when it came to Dan. Blinders he wanted to rip off. Bram thought about what Ray conveyed to him regarding the shooting, just before all hell broke out in the locker room. So, he challenged Jon. “You weren’t close, Jon. Dan was right there, and maybe he observed something you didn’t, which caused him to take action. It is possible Mr. Berker escalated in some manner.”
Jon barked, “I doubt that. I told him to approach and hold. We had a plan. I expect my team to follow my directions.”
Having remained silent up to this point, Ray countered, “We all must think on our feet. It isn’t like we are following a script. Best laid plans don’t account for everything. Remember the call two days ago? Things certainly didn’t go according to plan.”
Jon bristled. “Just another example of Broderick going lone wolf. His soldier ways are not our ways, and he refuses to change.”
Bram sighed. He saw Dan struggling to make changes, but Jon and his goddamned blinders only focused on Dan’s mistakes.
Lexa smirked, mirth lighting the gold flecks in her hazel eyes as she quipped, “At least, that time it was funny and no one got hurt. Served him right to be doused in the muck. He should’ve held off going in alone.”
Chuckling at the memory, Loki said, “Dan covered in milkshake mix, slipping around, and trying to stand … absolutely hilarious. He looked like a drunken hockey player when he fell twice. When he finally made it up and stormed out the back door of the parlor, well … I swear, haven’t laughed so hard in a long time. Today was almost as comical when Dan ended up coated in mud from the slide down the embankment.”
They chuckled at their recollections of Dan’s messy mishaps. Two days ago things went sideways in a call, and they found Dan up against the freezer in the rear of the building drenched in the sticky strawberry mix. Once they contained the subject, they all snickered as Dan gracelessly slid about as he attempted to rise. Entertained again earlier today, they laughed while Dan spit out a mouthful of mud as he slipped and fell on his ass at the bottom of the hill.
Bram realized minor amusing mishaps happened to each of them at one time or another. Heck, they usually befell him, and he found it delightful when someone besides him entered the comical limelight. Chuckling along with the others, Bram understood they used the absurdity of those times to dispel the darkness this job presented them with on a daily basis—laughter was essential to keep them sane.
Sensing the chuckle relieved a bit of pressure, Nick said, “Bram and Ray have a point. We’ll need to ask Dan why he bolted after Mr. Berker’s today. Unless anyone has anything more on our first critical call, I suggest we move to the next one.” Nick grimaced as the tension renewed immediately.
Mercy Hospital – Dan’s Room
In a state of half-waking, images and thoughts flashed, ebbing in and out of Dan’s mind making no sense to him.
Standing outside the back entrance of an ice cream parlor dressed in a gray and black uniform instead of his tan camo fatigues, a voice in his ear told him to remain in position. He glimpsed two young kids cowering inside. An armed drug-crazed man reached for one. Dan reported what he witnessed, and the same voice barked at him to hold.
As the gun came down to strike the boy’s face, he acted. He couldn’t allow the child to be harmed. Opening the door, he strode in ordering the man to freeze. The crazed man turned towards him, and the kids attempted to scramble away to safety. In their haste, they knocked over a vat of strawberry milkshake mix which rapidly spread across the floor. The man made an attempt to grab the pint-sized boy as the children fled.
Stepping forward to prevent him, Dan bent, extending one hand to assist the boy when he skated on the slimy substance. The manic took advantage of the opportunity, kicking him without warning. Dan realized he left himself open, a dumbass rookie move, but his need to rescue the little boy overrode his sense of self-preservation.
The powerful kick to his chest propelled him backward, slamming him into a freezer. His back and head struck the metal with considerable force. As his boots lost traction on the slick flooring, he slid to the ground, dazed from the impact.
In the space of time it took for him to recover the air which had been expelled from his lungs, his assailant grabbed another bucket of the pink, milky mixture and dumped the contents over him. Shouts accompanied several men wearing similar black and gray uniforms as they tackled and disarmed the man.
A raven-haired man and a petite woman, both wearing uniforms pointed and laughed at him as he sat in a puddle of goop. The others joined in, making fun of his misfortune. Still stunned, he slipped, falling twice in the mess as he struggled to stand. Infuriated with himself over his rookie mistake and loathing to appear a fool, he stomped out the back door once he attained his feet.
His head, back, and chest ached terribly. A bald man with gunmetal-gray eyes exited and began yelling at him for going in without orders. He strove to tell him what transpired and why he went in, but the enraged man refused to listen, so he stopped trying to explain his reasons.
The scene shifted, and he got into the rear seat of an SUV, sticky and wet. While a short woman drove, he became the butt of many jokes as everyone laughed about his mishap. The throbbing in his skull and sternum increased as he tried to shut out their taunts. No one cared to ask if he was alright, they only ridiculed him. Dan affixed his mask tightly hiding his pain.
Images changed again to an unfamiliar apartment. Empty except for a bed and nightstand made of two stacked boxes. He eyed himself in a bathroom mirror noting a foot-sized bruise on his chest. Touching the back of his head, he winced finding a tender knot. The taunting laughter filled his mind along with one prominent thought. I deserve to be alone and in pain.
As if viewing a movie, Dan watched himself cowering in the corner of an empty, dark room. His ivory gripped pistol pressed to his heart. Tears rolled down his face as he begged for forgiveness. He pleaded for death and to be released from a vow so he could pull the trigger to end his all-consuming pain.
“Noooooooo! Brody!” Dan screamed bolting upright in the hospital bed. Heart and soul shredding, gasping for breath, Dan recalled the excruciating events of killing and finding what was left of Brody.
Walter surged to his feet and went to Dan, leaving the out-of-date magazine he had been reading discarded on the floor. The panic and indescribable horror in Dan’s eyes unnerved Walter. “Calm down. Breathe. Please.”
When he could suck in air, Dan stared at his godfather. “I shot him. I killed Brody! I blew my brother away.” He broke down crying as he curled into a tight ball as a fresh wave of agony threatened to drown him.
Never a touchy-feely kind of guy, Walter found himself out of his league. Dan’s anguish was palpable, and his heartbreaking sobs and ragged breathing tore at Walter. He rubbed Dan’s back lightly unsure what else to do to comfort him. Although, relieved the wildly beeping monitors quieted without alerting a nurse, and he didn’t think to press the call button. Dan would most likely prefer to grieve in private.
He continued to rub his godson’s back, hoping human contact provided a modicum of solace and helped Dan comprehend someone cared about him. Standard platitudes would hold no weight or ease his sorrow. Walter doubted the boy would listen, and if
he did, he might misconstrue the meaning as he did after Sara’s death. So, Walter chose to maintain a silent vigil of touch.
After a long while, he noted Dan calmed. He peered down, finding Dan’s eyes closed, his face lax, and his breathing slow and regular. Thank goodness, he is sleeping. After settling him back on the bed, Walter eased himself into the chair again and sighed. What am I going to do to sort this all out?
TRF HQ – Briefing Room
Nick led the team through the transcript to the point where all hell broke loose in the last call. The team arrived at the May Complex where a disgruntled ex-employee, Quinton Sawyer, took his boss and several co-workers hostage. They were held in a corner office on the twenty-sixth floor.
Dan and Jon rappelled down different sides of the building because there were no suitable sniper locations on surrounding structures. They needed coverage from two angles due to the configuration of the area. If the subject moved one way or the other, they would lose visibility from one position.
Nick, Bram, and Ray entered the office to negotiate. Lexa remained outside speaking to Mrs. Sawyer and feeding details to Nick. Loki stayed in the command truck gathering additional information while endeavoring to break through a multi-level, propriety firewall of the high-tech firm to tap into their security cameras—not an easy task.
On the whole, things progressed routinely and smoothly until several hostages spooked and decided to run for it, believing the ex-employee couldn’t shoot them all. In the midst of the ensuing chaos, Mr. Sawyer managed to grab Ray and pushed him to his knees behind a half wall. Nick continued to read the call transcript out loud.
“Hardy: Hold. Hold!
Pastore: Quinton, please, we can resolve this without harming anyone.
Hardy: No joy, subject moved out of my line of sight. Zulu Two, do you have a solution? … Dammit, Broderick, you’re Zulu Two, answer me!
Subject: They must pay for the way they mistreated me. They will die, and their families will experience my pain.
Pastore: Yes, I understand how you would believe you were let go unfairly. But Quinton, this isn’t the way to solve the problem. We can find another way. No one has to be hurt.
Baldovino: I got eyes in. Repositioning the cameras for a better view.
Hardy: Do you have the solution, Zulu Two?
McKenna: Boss, Quinton’s wife said he’s been acting erratically lately. He went off the deep end when his five brothers were all killed in a boating accident. He would’ve been with them, but his boss wouldn’t give him the time off to go on their annual brother’s vacation. We may be dealing with more than just Quinton being upset about being fired for failing to come into work when he attended their funerals.
Pastore: Quinton, it hurts losing your family. You’re left feeling empty, alone, and in pain. Their deaths aren’t your boss’ fault. They died in a dreadful accident. Please let your coworkers go. There are others ways to deal with your loss and grief.
Subject: If he had let me go, I would’ve died with my brothers.
Pastore: Then your wife, your best friend for ten years, would be missing you. She would be hurting now. Please put down the gun. From what you told me, your brothers loved you very much, and they wouldn’t want you to do this.
Pastore: Gun lowering. Subject deescalating.
Hardy: Zulu Two, hold.
Shot fired by Constable Broderick.
Baldovino: Officer down!
McKenna: Who?
De Haven: We need EMS, Ray’s been hit.
Pastore: Subject neutralized.”
When Nick halted, the entire team started to speak at once, but Jon’s voice boomed over everyone’s. “Dan disobeyed a direct order to hold. The subject was deescalating. Not only that, he shot Ray. He—”
Ray’s customarily calm voice of reason clamored to be heard above Jon. “Shut The Hell Up, Jon!”
The outburst from Ray shocked the team into silence.
Struggling to control his temper, Ray said, “I need you all to listen to me. I have been trying to tell you something important.” Ray pointed to his arm. “This is not Dan’s fault. It’s mine.”
Jon bellowed, “Like hell, it isn’t Broderick’s fault. He failed to answer me and didn’t comply with my orders. Broderick shot a deescalating subject, through your arm!”
Ray yelled back as he stood. “I moved. I had eye contact with Dan. He signaled me his headset was down and for me not to move.”
Having their attention now, Ray lowered his volume but continued with indignation. “What you didn’t hear were Quinton’s whispered words, ‘I’m coming, brothers.’ What you didn’t see was the grenade he tried to grab. Yes, it appeared he was lowering the gun, but he actually went for a grenade.”
Pinning his brown-eyed glare on Jon, Ray’s ire increased. “Dan and I saw it. Sarge, Bram, me, and all the hostages would be dead if Dan didn’t shoot the subject when he did. I wouldn’t have been hit if I had stayed still as he told me. I shouldn’t have moved.”
Frustration with the team flowed through Ray, disturbing his control. “I’ve been trying to tell you all this, but you were not hearing me. All you can do is rant about Dan. You stole my voice by not letting me say my piece, just as you’ve stolen Dan’s. Dan saved our lives today.”
Glowering at Lexa and Loki, Ray snapped out angrily, “You two owe Dan an apology. What you did in the locker room was wrong on so many levels. Loki, I told you it was not Dan’s fault on the ride back.” His voice resonated with disillusionment as he said, “Why didn’t you listen? Why didn’t you believe me?” His fury spent, Ray slumped back in his chair softly saying, “The only one who listened is Bram.”
Jon stared at Ray dumbfounded. Why didn’t he stop to consider Broderick’s headset might be down? Unwilling to relent, he bristled again. “Why the hell didn’t he say something when we got down to the SUVs?”
Bram gaped at Jon with disbelief. Jon could be so narrow-minded when it came to the rookie. “Did you give Dan half a chance? No, you didn’t. All you do is yell at him for any and all mistakes, real or perceived. You sure as hell aren’t mentoring him. Jon, I don’t know who you are anymore.”
Nick turned to Loki, “We need to review the video. Do we have an angle which would show what Ray is saying happened?”
“You don’t believe me?” Ray stated, his tone incredulous.
Nick shifted his gaze to Ray. “No, it isn’t that. I believe you. I’m worried about NRB. The transcript shows Dan not responding to Jon’s direct order and taking lethal action after I said the subject deescalated. Dan will be hung out to dry if we don’t find solid proof.”
Stunned silent, Lexa felt rather small for the way she behaved towards Dan. She swiveled towards the windows which were currently opaque obscuring the view outside. She closed her eyes, peering inward at an equivalent veiled scene as her internal dialog tried to find justification for her actions.
But I didn’t know. Lexa’s conscience retaliated. But you are trained to control your emotions and seek information. She strove to justify again. But the cocky rookie shot Ray and didn’t respond to Jon. Her conscience bit back. But … but … but. She conceded. Crud, I fouled up.
For the past two months, she treated Dan like he had the plague. All because they shared a one-night stand. Dan never said a damned thing to any of the guys about it, even though he flirted with her when no one else was around. She believed he was cocky, annoying, and deliberately provoking her especially when he called her Sexy Lexie.
What she did to a teammate was unforgivable and unprofessional. She was guilty of the things she accused Dan of being … uncaring, impulsive, and irresponsible. The heavy coat of shame settled onto her shoulders. How can I ever make it up to him?
Loki’s face fell as he viewed an angle of one of the cameras he hadn’t been looking at during the call. With thirteen cameras in the room, he couldn’t watch them all. Loki’s voice filled with self-loathing, “Boss, I missed it.”
He pulled it up to d
isplay on the main screen. Clear as day the video showed Quinton bending down and reaching for a grenade and Ray’s movement which put his arm in the line of fire.
The wind left their sails, every single one of them hung limply, deflated, and contemplating how badly they screwed up today. Nick rubbed his face briskly then stared at his family. We wronged Dan. How are we going to rectify this?
So Very F.I.N.E.
21
September 15
Mercy Hospital – Dan’s Room
Dan woke to a dim room doing a routine assessment of his status. Physical pain under control and masked with meds. Emotionally, a wreck, the memories of Brody’s death fresh, raw, and agonizing. His cheeks felt tight with the salt of dried tears. He recalled his godfather rubbing his back as he cried.
Glancing to his right, he found Commander Gambrill still sitting with him. Never comfortable with crying in front of others, deeming it a weakness, his face to begin to flush with embarrassment. Though, acceptance of his tears by Brody brought to mind a comment his brother made many times. Nothing to be ashamed about, real men cry. The thought helped Dan push his discomfiture down, and he uncurled. “Sir.”
Gambrill acknowledged with a slight nod, then stood and walked into the adjoining bathroom. Returning with a damp washcloth, he handed the cloth to Dan and gave him a half smile. “Remembering Brody had to be tremendously painful. How are you doing?”
Dan wiped his eyes and face with the washcloth then set it on the rolling table. “Fine Sir. Just fine,” Dan answered truthfully. His godfather would never understand what fine meant to him. The word, in reality an acronym, provided an easy answer to give and still shield himself. I’m genuinely Fucked-up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional. Yeah, I’m so very F.I.N.E.
