by J. M. Madden
Wulfe gave him a dangerous grin as he leaned over him, his vibrant blue eyes flashing, but he did the job as quickly as Aiden had. Then he applied the same care. They were done within about five minutes. Aiden looked down at the four little white cylinders. “That’s what they were following.”
“Bastards,” Fontana growled. “Throw them under the log and let’s get the fuck out of here. They’re getting closer. I have never wanted a block of C4 as bad as I do right this minute. I would booby-trap that shit in a nanosecond.”
Aiden threw the locators under the log and they took off again. Even knowing they were being chased, it was still slow going. Every step they made had to be fought for; the Amazon jungle didn’t just let you walk through her depths.
Fontana found another game trail and was able to stop using the machete. In a crouching run they made better time, until they hit a tributary. Veering north, he followed the heavy stream until it disappeared into the earth. They’d come across several springs like this, pushing out enough water to drown a man, then disappearing into the forest floor. They circled the spring and kept going.
They slogged for a solid three miles before Wulfe pulled them to a stop. The sun had faded below the canopy and night was beginning to fall. “I think they pull back now.”
As soon as they stopped, TJ sank to the ground and pulled out the rag the woman had given them.
“You can’t feel bad about that, TJ,” Aiden told him. “We had no idea they would track us there.”
TJ shook his head. “I know, Will,” he admitted. “I’m just tired of all the killing. I got into the Rangers to help people, you know?”
“We all did, American,” Wulfe told him quietly.
“It’s that Bitch in Blue,” Fontana said. “She’s not going to let up until she finds us. And if she figures out we stole information about the Spartan Project before you torched the place, we’re going to be in even more shit. She’s smart enough that she’s going to assume worst case scenario, just like we would.”
“We’re like dogs to her,” TJ said softly, his dark eyes full of bitterness. “They had us chained up and now they’re looking to recover us, their property. She even put a damn locator on us. But now that we’ve bitten her she’ll probably try to put us down.”
Aiden nodded. “She’ll definitely try.”
The four of them looked at each other and nodded once.
“Do we have specifics on the program?”
Aiden nodded. “From the beginning. Personal, handwritten notes. And files on the subjects.”
“Did you grab those?”
Aiden nodded again and swung the pack around. The plastic wrapped accordion file was on the bottom of the bag and it had stayed dry so far. Unwrapping the plastic as carefully as he could so that he could use it again, he opened the flap and pulled out the manila personnel folders. Each man got their own folder and Aiden had to admit he was damn curious about the info in his. He started flipping through pages.
“They told my mother I was dead,” TJ told them, his voice numb.
They all had a notation like that. Family notified killed in Training accident. What bastards.
Whoever had investigated them had done a very good job. Aiden read his own bio dispassionately. The only thing that shocked him was seeing his old name.
James David Rogers, born to single mother. Father unknown. One sibling, male. Mother surrendered parental rights of sibling at age 5. Surrendered parental rights of James at age 4. No known familial contact. Mother deceased three years later, drug overdose.
Ward of the State of Maryland for thirteen years. Occasional shifts to foster care, but no lasting placements. Graduated Garfield High School at seventeen. Officially changed name to Aiden David Willingham on 18th birthday. Joined US Navy two weeks later.
He skimmed the rest, not seeing any other pertinent info.
“This is so messed up,” Fontana groused, paging through his file.
Aiden handed him the leather journal. “No, this is messed up.”
Every half-baked experiment Shu’s brain had cooked up was here. The flavor of the words conveyed that he was excited to be working on human subjects. This was his personal view on everything. There were doodles and scratches, plans for equipment he needed to build.
Aiden looked at the men grouped around him. When they’d had their initial meeting in Washington, he’d seen Fontana but he hadn’t had a chance to introduce himself. The other SEAL had been big and broad, with wildly curling dark blond hair and a darker beard. He’d also been one of the most brash and charismatic in the group, telling raunchy jokes and drawing men to him.
The first time Aiden had seen Rector he’d been being dragged toward the med center, one of the guards using the cattle prod on him when he wouldn’t move. Stocky and well-built with dark eyes, he’d seemed young and fiery. Aiden assumed his hair was normally dark, because he’d had dark chest and pubic hair, but the man’s head had been freshly shaven.
They’d all been shaved when they’d first arrived, and stripped. It had been the first of many humiliations.
Wulfe was another he hadn’t seen until they’d been at the camp for a couple months. Another subject had been in that cage, but he’d died. Then Wulfe had been moved in, a strapping German spewing creative epithets. The hired muscle hadn’t known what he’d been saying, but Aiden knew enough slang to get by, and it made him laugh.
As he looked at the men now, he realized how much the camp had taken out of them. They’d all lost weight, yes, but it was more than that. The dogged humor had left Wulfe’s pale eyes, and Fontana didn’t have the same confidence he once did. Neither did TJ, for that matter.
But today there was gritty determination in all of their expressions, and it made him proud to be with them. Even if they got caught tomorrow, he was glad he’d been part of this group.
Fontana shook his head as he flipped through the pages. In disgust he tossed the book to Wulfe to look through. The older man’s mouth tightened but he went through every page, scanning carefully, then passed the book on.
“I found his phone,” Fontana told them, pulling it from his pocket, “but there’s no service out here of course.”
“We should wrap that in plastic, American. Take the battery out of it so they can’t locate it.”
Fontana handed it to Aiden who took the pieces apart, buried it into the dry clothes roll, then sealed it up again. So far everything was staying dry, even though they’d had rain every day. When the storm clouds moved in they could find cover beneath some of the flora, the leaves as long and broad as a person. If they had to go through one of the rivers, they might be fucked.
They slogged through the jungle for days without seeing even a hint of another person or any hint of civilization. The Amazon rainforest was so dense, so remote, they felt almost as isolated from the rest of the world as they’d been in the cages. They bedded down at night and tried to recover the health they’d lost. Food was becoming an issue, though. They were used to going without, so it wasn’t like they were eating a lot, but four mouths consumed a fair amount of food quickly, even when they were trying to be frugal. Water wasn’t as much of an issue. They’d managed to catch a few rainfalls to replenish the water bottles but the forest made them work for everything else.
Aiden was desperately hungry. They were burning more calories than they were taking in, so they were always at a deficit and didn’t have any reserves to count on.
When Aiden had gone through training, he’d been shown what critters were edible and which would make you sicker than a dog or kill you, but that had been several years ago. They still had the guns but shooting at a wild pig or monkey might alert the wrong people to their location. They would only do that if their situation turned dire. For now, they would ration the food and water.
Three days later their situation turned dire.
Chapter Six
They were plowing through the jungle like they had been when they began to climb a fairly ste
ep slope. It had been raining on them all day, a constant downpour. Some of the drops hitting Aiden’s head felt like ping pong balls. He glanced around, something bothering him.
Hey, guys, hold up.
They all stopped and stood in the downpour, looking at Aiden.
What is it?
I’m not sure. Something just doesn’t feel right.
They waited for several long moments, brushing water from their faces as they peered into the murk. He felt ridiculous when nothing presented.
Let’s go, Wulfe murmured.
Fontana checked his direction, then continued chopping at the dense vegetation. He suddenly paused and turned to them. “Hey, I think I hear…”
Then he was gone, the ground giving way beneath him.
“Fontana!”
Aiden stopped several feet from where his fellow SEAL had disappeared.
Fontana! Wulfe called.
They all waited to hear the response, but nothing came. Aiden crept up the path Fontana had cleared and immediately saw where the ground had softened from the rain and given way beneath him in a giant mudslide. Aiden backed up, not wanting to be the next to go over. “Do we have a rope in that pack?”
TJ pulled the pack from his shoulders and pulled the red nylon rope out, tossing it to Aiden.
“I’ll go over and try to find him. I can’t see through the vegetation where he went. If you guys want to head down and around, maybe find an easier path.”
The men nodded.
Aiden tied the rope off to a tree, then fashioned a rope harness to go around his lower body. If he did this right he could control the slack as he went down and the others could retrieve the rope when he hit bottom.
TJ and Wulfe made sure he was as secure as possible before they took off downhill.
It had been a while since Aiden had done rope work, but when your ass was on the line things usually came back to you pretty easily. He rappelled down the steep hill, going as fast as he dared. It was worrying that there had been no response from Fontana. Either he was too far away or he was unconscious.
In some sections he had decent footing, but there were steep areas where he was literally hanging only by the rope itself. There were divots in the mud where it looked like Fontana had hit, then kept sliding. After rappelling almost a hundred and fifty feet, the ground began to even out. A fast-moving stream tumbled over rocks just a few yards away. Then he found Fontana.
There was blood and mud all over him and most obvious a horrendously broken right leg. It was laying twisted beneath him, with an open compound fracture of the lower leg. Aiden went to his knees in the dirt, feeling for a pulse. It was there, but when he peeled back Fontana’s eyelids, his pupils responded unevenly. That was not a good sign.
“Hey, buddy. I know you’re hardheaded enough to survive this, but why don’t you open your eyes and show me you’re still here.”
No response.
Wulfe and TJ arrived just a few minutes later. TJ looked at the open fracture and had to turn away. Aiden didn’t have the option.
“We have to get this wound clean,” he told Wulfe. “And try to get the leg set before he comes around.”
With a grim nod, Wulfe looked around the scene. “We have some bottle water, but not enough.”
Aiden sat back on his heels. “Stream water?”
Wulfe shrugged. “Infection will set in no matter what we do.”
Yes, that was very true. Aided had gotten a small cut on his hand going through the fence that had become infected almost immediately. It had taken a day to seal up properly.
“TJ, start making camp and if you can manage it, start a fire. We’re going to be here a while.”
TJ winced, obviously aware of how difficult it was to start a fire with damp material all around them. They were deep inside a rainforest, so they hadn’t had a fire since they’d left the camp. If they were here for any length of time, though, they would need to start boiling water.
Aiden noticed spreading blood beneath Fontana’s hip. “Wulfe, we need to get him straight and I need to see where that blood is coming from.”
Immediately, Wulfe moved down Fontana. Very carefully, Aiden rocked Fontana’s body toward him, allowing Wulfe to pull the leg straight. Nausea churning his stomach as he heard the bones grind together, Aiden forced himself to look beneath Fontana. The machete was buried in his ass cheek.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
He looked at it for a long minute.
“What do you think?”
Pull it out, Wulfe told him bracingly. Sooner it’s out the sooner it can heal.
Without hesitation Aiden pulled the twelve-inch knife from Fontana’s ass. It had cut into the flesh lengthwise in about an eight-inch gash and bled heavily when he first removed it.
We need to get him into the water and get everything flushed.
Nodding, Aiden moved to remove the clothes from his friend’s lower half. He had to cut the pants off. Then, wedging his arms beneath Fontana’s armpits from behind, Wulfe moved to his hips.
One, two, three…
Damn, he’s heavier than he looks.
Moving in tandem, he and Wulfe carried Fontana down the bank to the flowing water, the broken leg swinging nauseatingly. The stream was only about ten feet across, but it seemed to be moving pretty fast. The stiff current pulled on his legs.
“Any chance we’re going to call piranha to us?”
He’d been joking but Wulfe peered into the dark water. “I don’t think so. It’s not a big enough tributary to support them.”
They waded into the water till they were waist deep and slowly let Fontana drift with the current. He gasped at one point but didn’t regain consciousness. Aiden kept talking to him mentally anyway, letting him know that they were taking care of him. They let him float for a half-hour to let the water rinse away the dirt that had been on the ends of the protruding bone. When they carried him up the bank and back to the campsite, they found TJ had spread a Mylar emergency blanket along the ground. That was smart thinking. At least now they wouldn’t re-contaminate the wounds.
Some of the skin around the right lower leg break had already started to repair itself. “I think we need to set his leg first. It’s going to be a bitch.”
Wulfe nodded and moved to Fontana’s feet.
“TJ, we’re going to need your help.”
TJ came over but refused to look at the damaged area. “What do you need?”
“If you can pull on his shoulders, Wulfe will pull on the broken leg and we’ll try to get the two pieces to fit together.”
The younger man cringed but gritted his teeth and moved to Fontana’s head. “I’ll do it.”
Aiden dug through the first aid kit in his duffle but there was nothing big enough to splint a lower leg. He looked around, debating what he could use. There was wood everywhere. He might just have to chop off a couple of small branches with the machete. He picked up the blood-soaked blade and moved to a tree, selecting a limb to hack down. He could split this one into two pieces. Once he was ready he moved back to the blanket and their wounded man.
Fontana looked pale in the dimness of the forest. The rain had finally begun to let up, giving them some relief. Aiden drew out several heavy-duty gauze pads, as well as a roll of fabric tape. If they could get this sealed, hopefully his Ayahuasca enhanced body would take over the rest. “Okay, on my mark you guys need to pull with everything you have.”
He sat on his knees and drew in a deep breath. This was not going to be easy.
Pull, he told the men.
Fontana cried out in pain, but Aiden didn’t stop. When the pulling wasn’t enough to get the bones ends together, he reached in with his hands to line them up. Throughout all his years, he’d never done anything as difficult as match up the two ends of bone. He gagged a couple of times but refused to let himself puke. Finally, they snapped together like two pieces of a puzzle. Aiden drew his hands back slowly, making sure they were going to stay together. They
did. Moving as quickly as he dared, he disinfected the open wound then bandaged it. Then, while the men kept tension on the leg, he splinted it.
It was a nasty piece of work when they were done, but it seemed like it was going to hold.
“Roll him over. Let’s get it all done.”
The wound from the machete was trying to seal itself, but it was so long that Aiden was worried that it would take too long and infection would set in. Flushing the gash with disinfectant, he started pulling the sides together and using tape to secure them.
“Buddy, you are so going to owe me,” Aiden growled.
When he was done, the wound had stopped bleeding and the sides were as aligned as possible.
“I think we should give him a dose of the serum. It might be enough to boost him.”
Wulfe nodded and moved to the stream to wash his hands. They all did, then they returned to what would be their camp for a few days.
The serum boost seemed to help, but Fontana still developed a fever. Aiden had expected that. He’d had dirt in the open break and they’d rinsed it with murky river water. And it was hard to tell what might have been on the machete blade when it sank into his ass.
Wulfe managed to get a fire going with deadwood he’d found near the stream and they’d finally been able to boil water. As Fontana had shuddered with cold, they’d managed to get some warm water down him. Then the delusions had started. He’d never roused to complete consciousness, but he’d come to enough to know there were shapes moving around him that he couldn’t identify. All three of them had talked to him both mentally and verbally, but it hadn’t helped. He kicked his legs out and Aiden feared he would hear the bone in Fontana’s leg snap apart, but it never did.
Eventually they were all on the ground with him, keeping hands on him and talking to him to keep him calm. Aiden understood his fear. More than once the orderlies had held him down and forced things on him that he wasn’t able to fight. For a man who had been trained to be indestructible, it was a deafening blow to the ego.
