Stream of Madness

by Jim Roberts

  Falco grit his teeth. "Fine. I shall personally speak to the Imperator about your ascent into the Brotherhood. If you bring me the Centurion’s head, I will grant your patronage into the Order."

  "I have your word on this?"

  "Of course."

  Saladin nodded. "Good. Then we have a deal. Your...errant Centurion will be brought to Olympia justice, you have my word." Saladin held out his hand. "Your visit was most welcome, Tribune Falco. Fi Amanullah."

  Rashid knew Falco cared little for Saladin’s manners. It was the Sand Scorpion’s way to greet and farewell all – even those he cared little for – with grace and temperance.

  Falco took Saladin's hand, shaking it.

  “Olympus does not accept failures, Saladin. Remember that.”

  “I never forget anything, Tribune. Remember that as well.”

  Releasing Saladin’s hand, Falco turned to the hulking Brutus and said, "Lord Saladin is your new master, Brutus. Follow his orders. Remember: you are the hunter, all others are prey."

  The monster called Brutus made a slow nod towards Falco. The Tribune looked back at Saladin, "Brutus has been programmed with the scent of Centurion Epsilon, taken from the DNA sample all Centurions give to Olympus when joining." Falco pointed at the palm PC in Saladin's hands. "You can track him at all times with the app labeled Tracker on that device. There are multiple cameras set up on his body that you can monitor as well. He needs little aid and he will hunt his own food. Just...don't anger him."

  Falco smiled before turning back to the landed Hyperion, spinning his finger in the air. The VTOL's engine's flared to life, kicking up sand in all directions.

  Before entering the aircraft, Falco turned to look back at Saladin, shouting, "Remember...one week!"

  Saladin bowed. Rashid followed his master's lead, bowing as well. Falco disappeared inside the VTOL. The aircraft lifted into the air and roared across the steppe, toward destinations unknown. Once again, the warm Syrian steppe was quiet, save for the whinnies of horses.

  Rashid let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. "This is madness, my Lord. How can this...thing find one man in this waste?"

  Saladin continued to gaze upon the gift bestowed to him. "Only one way to find out, my friend." The mercenary lord walked to within a foot's distance from the monster, "Do you hear me, Brutus?"

  "Yes, master." A deep, throaty voice responded from the helmet. Rashid's blood ran cold at the sound.

  "Good. I require a test of your abilities.” Saladin gestured towards the massacred town, “The ones who did this headed towards the west. We shall visit upon them what they did, twice over. Track them and inform me when they are located."

  Brutus nodded again. Saladin stepped back, pushing Rashid away as well.

  The Olympus beast reared his wolf-helmeted head back and let out a blood curdling roar, the voice amplified somehow. The exo-armor surrounding him seemed to energize; powering up with an audible hum. Then, with a final howl he rushed forward, bounding across the steppe with a speed and grace unbelievable for a human being.

  Rashid watched all of this with fascination. "By Allah...what a monster!"

  Saladin smiled as he looked at his friend. "Come now, my friend, if we are to find our little 'soldier in a haystack', this man...or beast, whatever he is, may be our only way."

  Rashid did not share his commander's optimism. "My lord, this mission...it cannot succeed. ISIL controls everything from here to Aleppo. The jihadists will fight us to the last man if we are caught."

  Saladin met his most trusted advisor's eyes. "I would have hoped by now you would learn to trust in me, Rashid. Besides−" He looked towards the east where Brutus had disappeared over a rocky hill, "−we have him on our side. Ready the men, we move out at once."

  Rashid lowered his gaze, preparing his mind to the task. No matter the danger, he would follow his master to the ends of the earth and beyond.

  But something about this did not sit right with the veteran merc. The granting of patronage to an outsider to the Brotherhood of Olympia was almost unheard of in these times. That Falco had so been so quick to accept Saladin’s demands told Rashid there was something here they did not see.

  Taking one final look towards the empty, corpse-ridden town of Hijjâné, Rashid rejoined his brothers in the Riders of the Scorpion. His and Saladin's horses had been tended to by one of the cabal members, Yaseen. Mounting up, Saladin unshouldered his AK and holstered it in a sling attached to his saddle. The one-hundred Riders of the Scorpion stood ready to hear their commander's order.

  "My brave brothers in arms! Olympus has called and we must answer. We search for one man amidst a sea of sand and hell. We head west across the Euphrates towards the Raqqad valley. ISIL resistance is strong there. Our...tracker shall find this man and we shall return him to our Olympus masters. Understand, this will be a dangerous journey, and I will not force any man to come that does not wish it. If you desire to stay behind, I understand!"

  Not a murmur came from any of the Saladin’s riders.

  Rashid smiled. They are all with you, my Lord.

  Saladin nodded, his dark eyes glinting in the sunset. "Very well. If we succeed in this venture, I shall be granted patronage for entry into Olympus. When I have taken my place within Olympus, you, the Riders of the Scorpion, shall rise with me. We will become part of the most powerful independent army in the world. Their victories shall be ours. Allah will watch over us!"

  The men of the Scorpion raised the weapons into the air, shouting loudly. "Allah Hu Akbar! Allah Hu Akbar! A’ashat Saladin!"

  The final words were repeated many times in Arabic.

  Long live Saladin!

  The Sand Scorpion reigned his horse forward and galloped across the steppe, away from the dead town of Hijjâné. Rashid spurred his own horse as the horde followed their master towards where the war raged hottest in Syria.

  Chapter 3

  Tenderness

  Washington D.C.

  July 15th, 2015

  Joe awoke with a start, bolting upright in bed as the sense of fear snapped him back to consciousness. He sat there in the dark of his hotel room, breathing heavily. It took him several seconds to piece together the notion that he was in fact awake and no longer plagued by nightmares. The sheets of the bed were drenched in sweat.

  His fitful sleep had been filled with images he couldn’t fathom. He had dreamt he was in a barren waste, surrounded by the corpses of those he'd failed to protect. He recognized Izabella Cordova, his friend who died eight months ago. His murdered Ranger platoon was there as well. Their faces were gruesome and bloody. Joe would sit down at a table of food set out for him amidst the wasteland and start to eat. He stabbed a hot steak with his fork and a stream of blood spewed forth, soaking him. A man shrouded in shadow passed through the crowd of corpses. He would speak a word Joe couldn’t understood. Then, the corpses would advance on him.

  And in the dream, right before he was torn limb from limb, Joe could do nothing else but laugh.

  It was always the same, every night.

  Joe took several deep breaths to calm himself before checking the clock on the nightstand.

  2:00 AM.

  The small hotel room in DC was drenched in inky darkness, save for some strands of streetlight seeping through the window blinds. He was staying at the Hyatt Regency Hotel, a rather nice accommodation two blocks from the Washington Capitol building. It had been recommended to him by Colonel Walsh as a decent place to shack up while in the city. Joe had more than enough back pay saved to afford the one-hundred dollar per night bedroom for the next week until a decision was made about his current status in the Peacemakers.

  He was about to go back to sleep when a knock came from the suite's door. Joe became instantly alert. He reached over and grabbed his Beretta 9mm from the nightstand and leapt out from the bed. He winced at the ache coming from his ankle, still smarting from the bad fall he’d taken in Lebanon. He padded his way over to the door, the sleepiness g
one. Joe leaned to the side of the door, his free hand on the door knob. Clearing his voice, he spoke. "Who is it?"

  A muffled female voice came through the door, “Joe? It's Jade. Can I come in?”

  Braddock let out a breath. "What do you want?"

  "You switched off your cell. The Colonel has been trying to get a hold of you all night."

  "Why?"

  "Can I come in, or do I have to talk through the damn door?"

  Joe sighed, then switched on the light, illuminating the spacious suite. He walked over to where his jeans lay in a pile on the floor, placing the Beretta back on the nightstand. After quickly pulling on his pants, he opened the door.

  The onetime UN soldier and former Zimbalan rebel leader stepped into the suite. He closed the door after her and locked it. Jade turned to face him.

  "Jesus Joe, you look like hell."

  “Thanks. I try.”

  “How’s the ankle?”

  “Better. Thanks for asking.”

  Joe noticed Jade scanning the room with her perceptive gaze, noting several empty bottles of Ambien on the nightstand. Her hazel-grey eyes settled on the Beretta.

  "Expecting company?"

  Joe looked over at the gun. "Can never be too careful."

  Jade sighed. "I'm sorry I woke you, but like I said, Walsh has been trying to reach you for days. He said you were probably here."

  “Hmm. Guess I can't hide from anyone these days.”

  “Why did you turn your cell phone off?” Jade asked, trying to maneuver through the mess of clothes and suitcases. She unzipped her jacket and tossed it onto the only table in the room. She saw Joe's cellphone, sitting forlorn on the table. Jade picked it up and tossed it to him. “Turn that back on, will you?”

  Joe scowled, but did as he was asked. "I'm suspended, remember? Why would I want to talk to anyone right now?"

  "After what happened in Beirut, I…we’ve been worried about you. So has the Colonel."

  "I appreciate that, but you heard what the Major said–" Joe stifled a yawn, "–I'm to be expunged; cut out, siphoned away for good. He doesn't want renegades in his Unit who go off on their own vendettas during a mission." Joe sat down on the bed, his mood darkening, “I got a man killed…all because I ignored orders and went off on my own.”

  “You didn’t get him killed Joe–”

  “You weren’t there…you didn’t see the look in Jammer’s eyes as he realized he was going to die. I let my desire to find Danny cloud my judgement. I disobeyed a direct order to pursue my own agenda, and it cost a man his life.”

  Jade had nothing to say to that one.

  "Danny Callbeck wasn’t just my friend−" Joe said, his voice heavy with emotion, "−he was my brother. The CIA, the Pentagon, even the Canadian government doesn't care if he's alive or dead. Right now, the only hope he has is me and...her."

  Jade’s eyes furrowed at the mention of the missing Olympus Assassin, "You mean that Agrippina woman? Joe, that was months ago. That woman hasn't been heard from since Sadoma. She was probably lying anyw−"

  "No." Joe said, firmly.

  Jade was undeterred. "You have to admit, she could have been trying to use you, somehow. How can you trust that woman, anyway? Didn't she try to kill you?"

  The memory leapt into his mind, unheeded. Joe touched the grisly scars on his chest, reminders of the Olympus Executioner's wrath back in Kazinistan almost a year ago. The pain was still sharp in his memory.

  Jade took a deep breath and sat down on the bed beside him. "You're going to have to let him go eventually, Joe. You loved him very much, but people die. I know you understand that, better than most people."

  Joe stared straight forward, his face a mask of misery. "I've let down so many people who relied on me. You have no idea. And now Jammer. All because of some space-age Private Military we hardly know more about today than we did a year ago."

  Joe was quiet for a time. Jade changed tactics. "Ok, look at it this way: if that hadn't happened, I wouldn't be here, would I? If you and your team hadn't caused Olympus's contract in Zimbala to be rescinded, I'd probably be dead by now. Jacob Muzenda and his rebels would have been hunted down and massacred by Olympus. God only knows what else they would have done, if you hadn't stopped them." Jade shifted over on the bed, closing the gap between herself and Joe, “I need a cause to fight for Joe. I need something to believe in. I have faith in the Peacemakers…and you.”

  Joe’s attitude lifted from hearing her words. He was suddenly aware of Jade's closeness. Turning to look at the beautiful woman sitting beside him, Joe hesitated a moment before speaking. "So…do you have any...regrets?"

  Jade looked confused. "About what? Oh–" She blushed, "–you mean...that night?"

  "Yeah."

  She shrugged. "No. Not at all. It just...sort of happened."

  Joe smiled. The memory of their…rendezvous last month was still warm in his memory, "That sort of thing doesn't usually just happen to me."

  Jade placed a hand on Joe's shoulder, tracing the various small scars he had accumulated through a life of soldiering.

  "Sometimes two people just need each other. It can happen, and nothing comes of it." She hesitated again, "Or everything comes of it."

  Joe closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I'm in a dark place right now. I just can't let it go."

  Jade shifted closer to the ex-Ranger. Joe avoided her gaze, but a smooth hand reached across to grasp his chin softly. Jade forced Joe to look at her. Immediately, his heart raced at the sight of her languid eyes. My god she’s beautiful.

  "I haven't known you for very long Joe, but I do know you're a good man."

  “In war, good men die,” Joe said, his voice shaking. He felt vulnerable right then; unsure of himself.

  "Don't think about that right now."

  "Can't help it. I obsess, you know that."

  Jade leaned forward and brushed Joe's lips with a light kiss. "You're just naive. You've been knocked down, but the war isn't over yet. Give it some time. There’s no hurry now is there?"

  Joe closed his eyes as he locked lips with the stunning woman. His heart began to race. Ever since meeting Jade in the hellish battleground of Sadoma back in November, Joe felt like he’d known her all of his life. Her can-do attitude meshed neatly with his own, and he had found himself gravitating towards her more and more.

  He broke away from her embrace, saying, “What about what we agreed to – keeping things professional and everything?”

  “To hell with professionalism.” Jade placed her hands around Joe’s neck and she pulled him close for a long, passionate kiss.

  His hands reached under her shirt, feeling the warmth of her skin. His desire for her flooded through his body like radiation. Jade ran her hands through his hair, pulling at it roughly. Desire overtook Joe as he kissed her back. All the misery and loss he’d felt only a moment ago melted away as he held this beautiful woman in his arms.

  They paused, only for a second, for Jade to pull her top off and toss it aside. Reaching behind her, Joe worked at her bra strap; maddeningly held together with what must have been a padlock. After several giggles and a dexterous final twist, the bra came off.

  "Damn these things." Joe said, tossing the garment off the bed. The moment of awkwardness behind them, Joe resumed his exploration of her body with his mouth. He suckled each little breast like a delicious treat, not wanting to be parted from her closeness. Breaking from his powerful embrace, Jade worked her way down his body, kissing his bare skin with her petal warm lips. Stepping off the bed, she planted herself on the floor in front of him and gingerly undid the zipper to his jeans. With a quick tug, she yanked them off. Her emerald eyes beamed with enjoyment. Before joining him back on the bed, she reached over and switched off the light, plunging the room back into darkness.

  "I missed you, Joe."

  AFTER THE brisk session of lovemaking ended, Jade had curled up against him and fallen into a deep sleep.

  Instead of following suit, Joe
stared at the ceiling, his mind wandering. It was in moments like this when he almost remembered what it was like to be happy. He tilted his head to watch his lover sleep, enjoying her sensuous aroma and warm breath on his face.

  Every time he felt like happiness was a possibility, the strange cloud would rise in his mind, muting his emotions. In these moments, he would retreat into himself, staring off into space like a man lost to the world. His mind would fill with memories of the past. Slumber would not come and he would lay for hours on end, in a sleepless haze.

  He felt as though his life up to now was some sort of bizarre dream and he was only now beginning to wake. But something kept pulling him back every time he thought he was going to open his eyes. His time in the military was like a strange purgatory; one bloody conflict after another. Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, Kazinistan – all of the war zones he'd trodden seemed to blend into one gory mess of death and violence.

  His mind flicked back to Beirut, to the moment Jammer died. Joe could still picture with perfect detail the bullet penetrating the poor kid’s head. If anything, the memory was worse than the actual moment; playing over and over in his mind’s eye like a macabre slide show.

  He thought about Danny, the brother he’d lost.

  They took Danny...your battle brother. A man who bled for you, who relied on you.

  Joe grit his teeth. He couldn't understand why it ate at him so much.

  Maybe Jade was right. Should I give in, take my loss as a soldier and leave while I still have my life?

  His team could do without him for now. Brick was totally qualified to lead the Unit if anything came up. He could use the time to get his bearings; maybe figure out a proper course of action to locate Danny.

  Stop thinking for once, Braddock. Tomorrow is another day.

  Joe closed his eyes, forcing himself to sleep.

  But all that awaited him there was the nightmares. The pain, the table of corpses, the man in shadow; all came rushing back as inevitable as death and taxes.

  Mercifully, a noise from the real world pulled Joe Braddock from his nightmares. His phone was buzzing loudly on the nightstand. He fumbled for it, still groggy from sleep. He saw the time on the alarm clock read 5:06 AM.