Closer (The Unit #1)

by Sarah Greyson

  Zillow.com could be a useful website as they learned the house had four bedrooms and a full basement. This information proved essential to the mission. They assumed the bedrooms were located on the second floor of the house as was standard of the construction in that area.

  First they drove past the inconspicuous house trying to gather all the information they could on their drive by. It was 0130. A perfect time for a surprise attack. The terrorist were still expecting Emma to be delivered tomorrow, which meant they were left unsuspecting, probably sound asleep in the house.

  As they drove by, they noticed how well the terrorist’s house blended in with the two-story colonials, fences, and narrow driveways with frozen, leafless, shrubbery on either side. If asked later on media reports, the neighbors would say they had no idea what was occurring in the house as the men kept to themselves. They would also say they only ever noticed two men ever coming or going from the home.

  Rob bounced his leg up and down causing the van to shake. He was anxious to get to his Lizzie. “I just have to get her out, Michael.” Rob stared into Michael’s eyes. Being so close, yet so far away was torture. A million things could go wrong. “I am scared to death I am going to find her tied to a bed, already dead,” Rob confessed to Michael.

  “You can’t think that way. You have to keep hope alive, Rob.” Michael looked at his brother’s ragged face.

  Rob hadn’t shaved in at least a month. This wasn’t the first time Michael had seen Rob with facial hair. It was common for the Unit, while on tour in Afghanistan, to grow beards. Typically, the Army frowned on facial hair, but they were Green Berets, they were allowed to grow their beards. They even held a contest. Who could grow the nicest beard? Rob always won.

  As Michael looked at his best friend now, he didn’t sense any of the previous comradery or the levity that took over after being in an incredibly tense situation for months on end. A situation where one could die in an instant. While they were serious in combat, there was something about bombs dropping twenty feet from where you slept that allowed the men to find the humor in life. What were they going to do, cry about it? That wouldn’t have served their mission well.

  As they pulled into a parking spot on the street a block down from the terrorist hold up, Rob turned to his friend. “I’m scared. I wasn’t scared in Afghanistan, but I’m scared now,” Rob confessed to Michael. Sympathizing with his friend, Michael knew the fear that Rob felt. He felt it to both times Emma was taken from him.

  “We’re gonna get her back, man. I know it is hard, but you have to keep the faith,” Michael said touching Rob’s shoulder.

  “Pray with me,” Rob pleaded, his eyes meeting Michael’s. Michael acquiesced and they bowed their heads.

  “God, I know we haven’t spoken in about seven months, but I am coming to you now. Please let my Lizzie be alive. Everything else we can handle, but she has to be alive. I don’t know what I would do without her, God. Please, God. You know I have always been a good Christian. I have served my country well. The only thing I have ever asked is that you keep Lizzie safe. Please don’t let me down now, God. Please let me find her alive. It is in your name that I pray and I thank you, Amen.” Michael squeezed Rob’s hand in the stillness of the van’s backseat.

  Michael met Rob’s frightened eyes and saw tears. For those few moments, all the danger of the night, all of the thoughts of terrorists, and foiling a plot fled in the sacred quietness of the backseat of the van. Michael sat with Rob and held his hand. He knew Rob needed the reassurance and the comfort that only another person, one who fully understood the gravity of the situation, could offer.

  Rob was quick to wipe away his tears, but he knew there was a very real possibility that Lizzie was already dead. Michael knew Rob may not survive if Lizzie wasn’t found alive.

  The men, sensing Rob and Michael needed a moment, waited quietly on the street. They had opened the back of the vans, grabbing their gear bags and removing their weaponry. Rob looked at Michael one last time, silently pleading with his brother to do all he could. Michael wouldn’t let his best friend down. After all they experienced in war: the endless nights of shelling; the raids on Al-Qaida hold ups in the middle of the night; the constant danger of life in a war zone; they would make it through this too. Rob never once faltered in his unwavering support of Michael and his fears. He wouldn’t let Rob down now. He would take out the three terrorists himself if he had to…to get to Lizzie. They weren’t sure where Lizzie was being held. All Ahmed could say was she was in one of the four bedrooms, and the last he had seen her, she was tied to the bed with heavy ropes.

  “What kind of rope was she tied with,” Rob spat into Ahmed’s face.

  “It was a double-braid, nylon rope. Her skin was rubbed raw from trying to escape. If she would have just accepted her fate, then she wouldn’t have so many rope burns,” Ahmed said as convincingly as possible.

  Rob stood and stalked Ahmed in three steps. He grabbed him by his windbreaker and gathered it at the neck effectually cutting off his air supply.

  “We still need him, man,” Michael countered as he placed his hands over Rob’s. Michael pried Rob’s hands away from Ahmed’s neck.

  “Tell me exactly how you left her?” Rob demanded of Ahmed. Ahmed had been with the men for the last two days.

  “When I left her, her hands and feet were bound to the frame of the bed. Her legs were spread to allow the men easy access.”

  Rob knew they had raped her, but he had no idea how often. These weren’t men they were dealing with; these were savages. They didn’t deserve the quick death they would receive tonight. They deserved to be tortured even worse than the way they had tortured Ahmed. If it was up to him, each man would be strung up by his balls and he would cut off their dicks. Then he would shove their dicks into their mouths and leave them to bleed out. Rob wanted revenge and justice for what Lizzie had endured.

  “Did they give her water and food?” Rob demanded as his face contorted, afraid of the answer.

  “Just water I think. They weren’t feeding her. They would have to hand feed her, and they didn’t expect her to make it this long,” Ahmed said, meeting Rob’s ravaged green eyes.

  Again Rob charged Ahmed. This time Michael’s hands made it to Rob’s chest, keeping him a foot from where Ahmed stood, his wrists bound with zip ties. Rob had the look of death in his stinging, lifeless eyes. Michael knew Rob would kill Ahmed given the chance.

  “Let’s focus on getting her out,” Michael ordered pushing against Rob’s chest.

  Rob sagged at Michael’s words. He knew Michael was right. They walked to the back of the van. The Homeland Security team was ready to go: M4 rifles hung over their shoulders and Sig Sauer P226’s in their side holsters attached to their thighs. Michael and Rob suited up. They wore bulletproof vests, armed themselves with the same rifles and pistols of the five-man team, and put their bulletproof helmets on. They secured Ahmed in the back of the van with handcuffs.

  “I don’t have to tell you what’s at risk,” Michael faced the men he would enter this mission with. “Lizzie is in the house, presumed alive. They have the field notes and prototype of a top-secret government project with them. It is our job to retrieve Lizzie and the information on the prototype. Emma’s work cannot make it into the hands of terrorists. If that happens, the U. S. is in grave danger.” He looked at the men to whom he was about to trust with his life, as well as Lizzie’s. Thank God Emma was safely at Rob’s house with Tony watching after her.

  “Secure Lizzie. Then find the information on the prototype. I understand you want these terrorists taken alive, and I promise to do my best to make that happen. But make no mistake, Lizzie is the number one priority,” Michael said looking straight into Rob’s eyes.

  Rob appreciated the pep talk and had a new look of determination on his face. He was about to get his Lizzie back.

  At 0200, they were ready to breach the house.

  « Chapter Twenty-One »

  The men walked i
n standard formation hugging the shadows of the night. They reached the two-story brick house a little after 0200. They had the element of surprise on their side. The terrorists were falsely secure in their knowledge, thinking Rob was delivering Emma tomorrow. They had no idea Ahmed was with them or that their adversaries had killed the guard. The brothers only had to take down three men. They had conducted this same mission numerous times over their five tours together. The only thing different about this mission, the most important difference, was that emotions were involved. Michael needed Rob to push his emotions to the side and accomplish the mission. He hadn’t lost faith in his friend. He believed he could do it.

  Hugging the shadows, the eight-man team approached the side entrance. It was a door that led to the basement. One of the men from Homeland Security took point and breached the door. The terrorists weren’t stupid and had booby trapped this door with a bomb. They had placed a homemade claymore mine rigged to explode upon entrance. However, due to the age of the house, the door wasn’t sealed properly from the rain and snow. The claymore had become saturated and upon breach only one-quarter of the homemade device exploded. The leading man fell to the ground. Wooden door pieces and metal shrapnel littered his guts. He wouldn’t make it out alive. They didn’t have time to devote to the man lying on the ground. The sound surely alerted the terrorist to their presence. They busted through the remnants of the door and found themselves in a cheaply made den. The walls were gray, the room had faux-wood panels, and the carpet was low quality Berber. Overflowing ashtrays littered the den.

  Quickly clearing the basement, they took the stairs quietly two at a time. They opened the door at the top of the stairs and found themselves in a hallway to the left of the kitchen. They quickly cleared the downstairs and made their way up the stairs to the second floor.

  Just then a terrorist fired his rifle backing down the hallway and trying to make it into one of the bedrooms. Michael’s accuracy left the terrorist dead in the hallway. Another terrorist fired at the team. The team fired back. The seven men easily outnumbered the one armed with an AK-47 Soviet rifle. One of the team fired through the wall behind which the terrorist was hidden and heard nothing but silence. Once they waited a sufficient amount of time, they entered the room to find the terrorist lying on the carpet, blood pooling around his chest. “This was probably the bastard who raped Lizzie,” Michael thought as he served his brand of justice. He looked the man dead in the eye and pulled the trigger of his rifle putting a bullet through his skull. How he would love the terrorists to suffer after everything they did to Lizzie and to Emma. The men cleared three of the four bedrooms, which meant the bedroom at the end of the hallway contained Lizzie and the remaining terrorist.

  One of the men from the original five-man team was a hostage negotiator. He spoke Algerian to the man on the other side of the door. Although Michael recognized a few words, he couldn’t follow the conversation. They waited for hours. They couldn’t risk breaching the door and the terrorist killing Lizzie. They had to let the negotiator do his thing. After numerous back and forth conversations, often one sided, the terrorist was instructed to open the door and place his hands on the top of his head. The terrorist opened the door and backed up into the room. He placed his hands on the top of his head and was apprehended in a matter of seconds. Homeland Security had one terrorist plus Ahmed; that would have to be enough. Rob pushed past the men and made his way into the bedroom. He found Lizzie lying unconscious on the bed. He fell to his knees as a cry escaped his throat. His anguish could be heard four houses down. Rob heaved and sobbed as Michael went to his side. Rob gathered his strength and gently untied his Lizzie from her position. He took notice of the blood that had gathered on the mattress between her thighs where the men had savagely raped her.

  “Y…You…have to do it…man. You have to tell me…Mich…Michael. I can’t. I can’t do it,” he said in a rush which left him deflated sitting with his shoulder propped up against the bed. He gently cradled Lizzie’s hand in his, softly stroking her skin. He kissed her hand and his tear-filled eyes pleaded with Michael’s.

  Michael did not want to be the one to tell his best friend what the rest of the men already knew. Michael placed his forefinger and middle finger against her carotid artery and felt for a pulse. Nothing. Michael’s eyes glistened as he looked at his broken friend. Michael slowly shook his head, so he offered no false hope to Rob. Rob cried so hard, no sound escaped his mouth. He didn’t inhale for minutes on end as he exhaled his anguish. After what felt like an eternity, Rob turned desperate. He scrambled up to Lizzie’s side, gathering her cold body into his arms. He heaved and sobbed over his Lizzie. Michael stood next to the bed feeling almost as helpless as he did when Ingrams had taken Emma.

  “How was Rob ever coming back from this?” Michael wondered as he watched his friend rock his lifeless finance back and forth in his arms.

  “Let’s give him some time,” Michael said to the men in the room.

  One by one, the men patted Rob’s shoulder in a sign of solidarity as they exited the room. They still had to find the field notes and prototype, plus any other booby trap the terrorists had left. One of the men from the four-man team went to check on the man who was put down by the initial breach of the door. He was still alive, the man reported, but wouldn’t be for much longer if they didn’t get him some help. The man radioed for an ambulance rattling off the address. Michael knew what it felt like to lose a member of one’s team. It brought back feelings of Leroy, who he had failed to save on that fateful August afternoon.

  After an hour of endless, fruitless searching, the men needed to search the room that contained a distraught Rob and a deceased Lizzie. Michael made his way back to the bedroom at the end of the hallway. He found Rob in the same position, although his demeanor had changed. Rob now sat lifeless still holding Lizzie. He was stroking her hair away from her face in an effort to calm himself. One look at Rob and Michael knew he was in shock: his lips were a faint blue, his breathing was rapid and shallow. Michael touched his friend’s arm and his skin felt cool and clammy. Rob needed medical attention, but Michael didn’t, for the life of him, understand how he was going to separate Lizzie from his embrace. Just then, the coroner arrived with a stretcher. He met Michael’s eyes and read the warning in them. The corner stood off to the side of the room, ready.

  “Rob. You have to let her go.” Michael looked at his helpless friend. “She’s gone, man, and you need to be treated.”

  “What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” Rob whispered as he folded into himself.

  “You get up and you let Lizzie go. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you must have been preparing for this possibility,” Michael gently said as he placed his hand on Rob’s shoulder.

  “Fuck you, man,” Rob spat out at Michael. “She was all I had. No one else but her. How the fuck am I supposed to live without her?”

  “We can talk about that later. Your lips are blue, man. We need to get you treated,” Michael persuaded as he squeezed Rob’s shoulder.

  Rob looked down on his Lizzie with love-filled eyes. He gently released her and laid her back down on the bed. He pressed his lips to her cold forehead and lingered there.

  “Rob?” Michael said in a calming voice.

  “Just give me a fucking minute, please,” Rob begged, staring at his Lizzie. Michael backed away and did as his friend had bid. Michael would forever be worried about his best friend. He was truly without knowledge about how to help him cope.

  Rob pressed another kiss to his Lizzie, this time saying goodbye. He stood and met Michael’s reflecting eyes. Michael saw how absolutely destroyed his friend was. Michael guided Rob down the stairs to the waiting ambulance.

  “I don’t need to go. I’m fine,” Rob croaked as the EMT took his blood pressure.

  It had dropped to dangerously low levels. Michael had always heard about dying of a broken heart, but he never thought it possible, that was until this exact moment.

  “Ju
st go with them. When I finish here, I promise I will come and get you. Then we can figure out what needs to be done,” Michael appealed to his best friend.

  Totally defeated, Rob allowed the woman to put him on a stretcher and even allowed her to put an oxygen mask over his face. Confident Rob’s physical body would be taken care of, Michael headed back into the house. He still hadn’t found the field notes or prototype.

  He walked back into the room where Lizzie had died and looked at the death bed. Michael stood silently weeping for his friend for a few minutes as he stared at the bed. His thoughts turned to Emma. What if it had been Emma in Lizzie’s place? He hadn’t known Emma as long as Rob had known Lizzie, yet he still felt her in his very soul. Losing her would be like losing himself. Is that how Rob felt; like he no longer knew who he was outside of him and Lizzie? Had he wrapped up his world in Lizzie so much he now had to carve a new world for himself? Michael knew that is how he felt about Emma. He worshipped her. The two times he failed to protect her would forever haunt his mind. Not saving Leroy didn’t feel close to how he felt about allowing Emma to get hurt, and Leroy was one of his best friends.

  Michael could only imagine Rob’s pain, but at the same time, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to put Emma in that position, even in his mind. He took out his phone and dialed Tony.

  “Hello,” Tony said on the second ring.

  Michael remained silent, unsure of what to say as fear gripped his soul, so he stood breathing into the phone.

  “Michael? What happened? Did you find Lizzie?” Tony fired off in rapid succession.

  Finally Michael remembered his reason for calling. “How’s Emma. Is she safe?” Michael pleaded.

  “She’s fine. She is upstairs asleep the last time I checked on her. I gave her another shot for the pain.