Band of Bachelors: Alex, Book 2

by Sharon Hamilton

  “Don’t you worry none about your first day. They might have you work the café just so you get to meet the girls. In time, you’ll get to know the coaches and the mothers who practically live here. But I’m gonna let Ruthie figure it out for you, so you just sit tight and wait for Carly, okay?

  Sydney liked her kind eyes and gentle demeanor.

  “Can I help you with something, Mrs. Beeson?”

  “Oh lord, child. I gotta concentrate on that new payroll system they purchased. I don’t get those checks out, and you know what’ll happen. You just don’t worry that pretty little head of yours.”

  On the way back to the sand courts the woman turned to her. “How’d you get to be so tall?”

  “Genetics. Can’t be the food or the water. I grew up in Southern California.”

  “My son Mason was a tall boy. If he was still around, I’d be trying to fix the two of you together,” the woman said.

  “Well, in my case, I have a boyfriend, so it wouldn’t work. Maybe Carly though.”

  “No, I’m sorry, the Lord saw fit to take my Mason overseas. That’s not anything a mother should ever have to get over. He was a good boy.” She walked to her desk, picked up a small school photograph and handed it to Sydney. She stared down at the picture of a handsome young man in a maroon graduation cap and gown.

  It took all the effort she had to hand the picture back to Mrs. Beeson and thank her. Mrs. Beeson was talking on and on about how he’d enlisted right out of high school, would have played football in college, but he wanted to serve his country.

  “Shouldn’t have happened to a war hero. Did I tell you he was a hero?”

  Sydney’s hand was shaking. She needed water, and she couldn’t get air all of a sudden.

  “Excuse me, I have to go to the ladies room,” she said and dashed down the hallway. She sat on the closed lid of the toilet and put her head in her hands. Recognizing she was having a panic attack, she wet down a paper towel and placed it at the back of her neck, sat back down and waited until the coolness settled her nerves.

  When she heard Carly’s voice, she stood, splashed water on her face, blotted it dry with her tank top, washed her hands again, and dashed out into the hallway to meet her new partner.

  They shook hands. “They say all partnerships are never as good as your first working day together,” Sydney said. “So, welcome to our first and perhaps our best.” She was forcing her smile but found it worked.

  Carly chuckled. “Yup, the new car or boat effect. You’re absolutely in love with it that day. Only later do you find all the flaws you’d forgotten to think about or discounted as not being important enough.”

  They started taking turns setting and bumping while they talked casually. “You get a run in earlier?” Carly asked.

  “Sure did.”

  “You tell me when I can pick it up,” Carly said.

  “Any time, bitch.”

  They played opposites and lobbed the ball back and forth over the net, angling it just enough so that the other person had to really stretch to keep from letting the ball hit the ground. After they got to the count of one hundred, Sydney picked up the pace. First she served, hitting the ball as hard as she could, nearly getting an ace every time. Carly didn’t show her any mercy and did the same for another twenty five serves against Sydney. It didn’t take long before Sydney wished she’d worn her suit, not the spandex and sports bra. She was covered in sweat and had downed half a gallon of water already. She only drank lots of water during trainings, never during a tournament until the play was over.

  Two freshman players from Sonoma State approached after Carly waived them over. The four of them played hard, alternating partners, until at last Carly and Sydney worked together, which was a combination that was practically impossible for the new girls to defend against.

  Sydney began to feel the rhythm of what their play would be like.

  Over lunch, she talked about her workout from her college days.

  “I knew you were a beach player. Now I wish I’d come to watch you before,” said Carly.

  “One of my teammates showed me the beach scene one summer. And man, I was hooked. But the scholarship was for indoor team play. And, as you know, when they’re paying for you to go to college, they own you.”

  “It’s a job.”

  “It is.” Sydney dried her face off with a white fluffy towel. She pulled out her workout folder and the notebook she used to track her daily events, sharing how she alternated between doing heavy cardio and weight training, going lean and then binging. How she set up focus work such as serving, digging, and working on her foot speed with the ladder and the vertical leap trainer.

  “We don’t have those. Sort of a liability for the gym,” Carly said pointing to the devices.

  “I get it. I’ll order them, okay? Not sure about the jumper, but I’m sure the ladder I can carry around in my trunk. If we go out to the coast, I’ll have it. Make a training day out of a nice drive.”

  “Perfect! I’m going to modify this for me, too. This is excellent, Sydney.”

  After their lunch break, they worked side by side serving, then practiced roofing each other by working at the net. In regular team play, most opponents were ready for Sydney’s killer spikes, and she’d been known in high school for breaking a good number of nose cartilages. She’d developed a quick swish move at the net so that instead of drilling the ball, she lobbed it carefully to a strategic place that was nearly impossible for Carly to reach.

  They took a water break later on, and she watched the high school players parade in again like yesterday.

  “It’s an after-school league. Works because they get to play on a team with players whom they normally are competing against.”

  It made sense. You always improve faster playing against an opponent who is better than you are.

  She watched them giggle, fix their ribbons and adjust their knee pads. They talked about sparkly nail polish and where they were going to go on vacation. Sydney watched the young players as if they were some alien species. She never had parents on the bleachers cheering her on during her last high school days.

  She moved back in with her mother after her father passed. Her mother began leaving for several days at a time, which was a blessing. Sydney drove herself around to practices in her father’s old BMW and agreed to pay rent as long as her mother never brought her boyfriends home. Her father’s money paid for coaching and memberships on traveling teams, as well as recruiting trips. By the time she was a junior in high school, she was maintaining a heavy traveling schedule and was being sought after by several colleges Though she still lived at home, she was pretty much on her own. Graduation came and went. Her mother was a no show, and Sydney celebrated with the family of one of her teammates. She couldn’t wait to get out of town and get to college, to have that life of her own. Her college scholarship was her way out of Dodge.

  She studied the kids and their doting parents. It was even worse than down south. The spoiled little girls gave nasty looks to their mothers when they didn’t care for the way their hair had turned out. They left half-finished sandwiches and tossed bottles of water after a couple of sips.

  They have no idea what they’re throwing away.

  Before she left that day, Sydney made a copy of her workout plan for Carly, and they agreed to meet again in the morning for a run first. “Tomorrow you start being useful here. I’m going to give you a boy’s team that comes in on Sunday mornings. They’re a lot of fun. In the afternoon, you’ll do your first birthday party, but I’ll be there to help.”

  “Cool.”

  The talk about going to the beach made her think of this part of California’s coast. She put the top down and drove the half hour to watch the rough surf crash down on the beach, which was more rock than sand. A couple of surfers in wet suits braved the cold waters of the Pacific, ever mindful of sharks and sinkholes in the dangerous Northern Californian coastline.

  It was a different scene than the
one she’d been at in San Diego. Less crowded and way colder with a brisk wind pulling fog behind it. She knew she would sleep well tonight having inhaled her fill of this fresh ocean breeze. Since nearly everything she did today was a new routine, her systems were overloaded. It had been years since she’d felt so relaxed.

  Though it had gotten chilly she kept her top down and turned on the heated seats, playing some satellite country music she could sing along to. The hills were beginning to turn golden brown the further away from the ocean she got. Unlike other parts of the country, the biggest changes in colors occurred between the green of spring and the golden yellow-brown of summer. Dairy cows grazed and occasionally got onto the roadway, causing her to veer. She could see herself living here year-round. She planned on finding out what Sonoma County had to offer.

  And then of course there was Alex. What would he want for her? She wondered what he was doing right now, if he was allowing the sights of a strange sunrise in a foreign land make him miss her. She hoped so. She hoped he was finding answers to what they were searching for. Hoped there was some important mission being executed flawlessly.

  Come back to me soon, Alex.

  Chapter 22

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  Danny dropped the plastic bag in the middle of their little circle. The two Kurds looked at each other and then turned down their lips in disgust as Cooper carefully undid the twist tie, just like in any kitchen at home. Coop held up the red fastener band with tiny metal wire threaded through it.

  “Glad bag.”

  Alex nearly lost it. If the citizens of the US could see them now, huddling over a garbage bag in the night, in a dirty cave with no heat, in the middle of the killing lands between two opposing armies, they would question the millions of dollars spent training them all. They might even ask for a refund.

  “I’m going to examine the patient very carefully,” Coop said as he placed a facemask over his mouth like he was about to operate. Holding his gloved hands in the air, twirling his fingers he added, “The patient has but one orifice and I’m going in to explore now.” He frowned, opened wide the plastic bag and stuck his head inside.

  Team members were darting worried glances all around until Coop abruptly pulled his sandy brown pelt of a scalp up. In his best Dr. Frankenstein imitation he held between his thumb and forefinger a small, odd-looking, one-inch-long bug, it’s bulbous body and crablike legs wiggling, trying to get loose. “It’s alive! It’s alive!” Coop said in a sinister whisper.

  The Kurds whispered urgently in their own tongue, and Jackie laughed, pointing out Coop’s find, “They lay their eggs in the bellies of dead camels. So, they are called camel spiders,” he said, barely able to maintain.

  “I understand they are quite good roasted,” Coop said, his eyes still wild. Jackie nearly fell over backward laughing. The Kurds distanced themselves even further.

  “You sure that bug didn’t bite you?” asked Kyle.

  “Gimme that thing,” said Fredo, who yanked the insect from Coop’s claws and burned it alive with a cigarette lighter. He tossed the still flaming carcass to the side. “Problem solved.”

  “They are harmless, my friend,” Jackie said with a grin.

  Fredo picked up what was left of the bug, squeezed the body and a green puss-like fluid came out. “This shit?” he said as he pointed to it. “You get this shit on your skin, and it will itch for five, count them, five days, comrades.”

  “Did not know that,” said Kyle, very matter of fact. Armando and Danny were punching each other, hiding their chuckles behind their gloved hands.

  T.J. was always the adventurous one. “Where’d you learn that, Frodo?”

  “In an outhouse.” Fredo’s defiant stare gave way to his need to share. “I sat on one, that’s how I know.”

  There were snickers all around the tunnel. Alex was streaming tears.

  One of the Kurd fighters tapped an earpiece and said a word to Jackie.

  “Listen up!” Jackie whispered. “They say a single truck is about three klicks out, heading this way.”

  Coop dove back into the bag and the horseplay stopped. He peeled back the plastic so everyone could aid in the search. They found several plastic fruit juice containers and straws. He nodded as he held up a bloody woman’s sanitary napkin. “This is why the trash has to be taken out every day.”

  “So one of the aid workers is alive,” whispered Alex.

  “Or one of the children is of age,” said Jackie. “They consider puberty to be at nine years, my friends.”

  But what Coop found next disturbed them all. There were bloody bandages made from strips of torn cloth. The discharge on the cloth was a light brownish yellow, mixed with blood.

  “Someone’s got a helluva infection. I’m not seeing any evidence of antibiotic creams, and I sure as hell don’t think that person’s on oral meds,” Coop said after he sniffed the rags.

  They quickly went through every piece of trash, saving cups, straws or anything that could aid in DNA identification if it came to that. Coop snipped off one section of bloody bandage and placed it in a plastic sandwich container. They found unfiltered cigarette butts, which could also be useful in identification since it was unlikely the children or the aid workers smoked.

  At the very bottom, placed in another plastic bag, were pieces of magazine pages used as toilet paper.

  He quickly returned the contents to the plastic Glad bag, refastened the twist tie, and handed the bag to Kyle. Danny grabbed it and departed their sanctuary.

  “Alex and Armando, you watch him. Armani watch them tight.”

  Headlights flooded the abandoned buildings three houses down, and then flooded the roadway in front of their bunker with light. Armando trained his 300 Win on the driver, following the path the enemy’s head traveled until they heard the squeal of brakes and a grinding of gears. The truck lurched, sputtered, and died halfway between their lookout and the entrance to the building housing the children.

  In the moonlight, the white garbage bag shone like a giant free-formed pumpkin. Alex couldn’t see Danny anywhere. The driver got out, walked to the doorway, picked up the bag, walked the short distance back to the truck and hoisted the bag into the back. With a backfire, he started the truck back up, nearly flooding it and was on his way into the town center via the winding descent.

  Armando dropped the scope, surveying the horizon, which was now getting light bluish gray. All at once, Danny was right there in front of them. Alex felt like he’d jumped ten feet.

  “Whoa. I didn’t hear a thing. One minute I was looking out there and the next, boom, you were there,” said Alex.

  “That’s kind of the point,” returned Danny.

  Aware they were not entirely invisible, the three team guys retreated to the safety of the underground bunker.

  Kyle was on the phone with the Headshed discussing their options. Though they had heard someone complaining, the lives of the children didn’t look in imminent danger, but that could change at any time.

  “They’re going to get a heat-seeking drone. We’ve ordered three birds since I’m hoping we can get everybody. We confirmed an injury, someone in pain who might be the same person, and a relatively healthy and brave little boy,” Kyle’s voice wobbled. “We go at oh-one-hundred, which means we rest up now and into the heat of the day. If we’re not disturbed, we find another spot for tomorrow if we’re still here, since the shed thinks it’s likely our drop was spotted.”

  Alex listened while peeling off his vest and unbuttoning his shirt to get rid of the restriction he felt about his middle and get fresh air. He needed to drift off into a deep sleep quickly. Maybe it would all be over in twenty-four hours, and he’d be on his way home. He saw green fields waving in the breeze and vineyards stretched across hills in tight, perfect rows.

  Kyle’s words were droning on and on until at last they were coming from Sydney’s lips and Alex was back in her bedroom as she rubbed against him and whispered battle plans.

  He awoke to
the smell of baby wipes. Danny had already been out and stolen a bag of oranges he’d found in a home recently bombed. The delicious fruit was literally inhaled by the group after they washed their faces and hands with the wipes.

  Alex alternated with some bits of the dried goat jerky. Jackie passed around some glorious jasmine rice he’d brought from home. With bottled water that almost tasted sweet it was so pure, he was well satisfied in minutes and ready to start his new day at nearly midnight.

  Kyle had good news about the extraction. Based on movements that had been tracked by satellite, it was determined the ISIS leaders had been planning an offensive on the north side of town beyond the town center. So the concentration of manpower was some five or six klicks away, which gave them a decent window to do a full-on raid.

  Weapons checked and rechecked, each man had the laundry list of personal things they brought into battle. Their Invisios were adjusted and synched so their command could hear the chatter. Alex watched Danny stow a small red slingshot matching the larger one he’d been practicing with earlier and knew it was for little Ali.

  They marked time and left the safety of their compound.

  Fredo and Danny set charges along the back wall of the building. T.J. and Rory would cover the street, with Coop, Lucas and Mark going in behind the front door when it was breached. Armando and Jake took their perches on top of two abandoned buildings. That left Alex to attend to the breach of the back wall with Kyle. Danny would handle any problems with entry in case more explosives were required and then would accompany them. Jackie would follow behind. Fredo would man the alleyway behind and take care of escapees or signal any reinforcements coming to the aid of the guards inside.

  The timed devices went off exactly as planned. The building construction was so weak, half the roof collapsed in the rear, so instead of crawling through a neat square hole, they had to navigate over rubble and falling debris from on top. The front door had been loaded with charges from the inside as well, so most the front of the building had collapsed, T.J. reported. Immediately Alex heard automatic weapons from the front of the building, which meant someone was on sentry detail.