Hardened by Steel

by J. B. Havens

  “Affirmative.” Jones stood and lowered the steps. We exited out into the chilly early morning air. Mexico was a desert, but it got cold when the sun went down.

  “Captain, stay out of sight,” I said as we walked past him and down the steps. “The jet is cleared to wait here until sundown. If we aren’t back by then, leave without us.”

  He lit a cigar and waved us off. “Good luck. I’ll see you tonight. Try not to get shot.” He chuckled at my glare. “Again.”

  I flipped him the bird as I followed Jordon down the steps. Flynn was circling the waiting vehicle, checking it over thoroughly. It didn’t look big enough to hold us all.

  The Rover was sitting next to the runway as promised. Flynn took the driver’s seat and the rest of us piled in behind. Jones was up front with Flynn, programming the GPS. We were cramped, shoved in against each other with no room to move.

  “How long until we get there, Jones?” I shoved at Pierce; his pistol was digging into my thigh where he was smashed against me.

  “Not long, fifteen minutes; less if Flynn can get this bucket moving.”

  “Stop fucking shoving me, Mic; I have no place to go,” Pierce snapped from where he was pressed against the door.

  “Mic, why don’t you sit on Jordon’s lap, so it’ll free up some space.” I wiggled forward enough to smack Flynn on the back of the head. It was really the only way to deal with him.

  “This ride is terrible. Who asked for a Rover?” Rook complained from the back. His legs were too long; he was shifting around, but it was useless. “If I wanted to be in a slow vehicle with no space, too many people, and a shitty-ass ride, I’d be in Iraq in a Humvee.” Rook kept up a steady stream of bitching.

  “So he does talk; if only to cry like a little bitch,” Flynn piped up.

  “When we stop this fucking thing, flyboy, you better run.” Rook growled at Jordon who had inadvertently kicked him as he shifted around.

  “Shut the fuck up, all of you.” I tucked my elbows in as tight as I could and just endured. My claustrophobia was making itself known, the hot air and tight space pressing in on me. “Someone roll down a window,” I asked as calmly as I could manage. Jones hit the button for his window; cool night air slapped me in the face, gelling my sweat in place. I shivered and breathed a little easier.

  The tires left the bumpy paved road and kicked up dust on an even shittier and bumpier dirt road. Rocks pinged on the undercarriage as we turned and left the road entirely. We were tossed from side to side as Flynn navigated wash outs and avoided tall cactus plants that seemed to jump out of nowhere. He was cursing steadily under his breath, but was doing a damn fine job of getting us through it.

  “Nearly there,” Jones said, looking up from the GPS. Conveniently there was a rare tree in the perfect position to hide the Rover. Then again, Jones was navigating, so maybe it wasn’t so much convenience as a deliberate choice.

  Flynn pulled as close to the tree as he could without actually parking in it. Pierce opened his door and literally fell out, hitting the dirt with an audible “oomph.” He narrowly missed landing ass-first on a cactus. There was a big bright moon overhead, lending up plenty of light to move around with. We had our night vision goggles, but didn’t need them. The shadows were still treacherous though; holes and loose rocks were everywhere. This was not the time to fall and break an ankle.

  “Watch your fucking feet and stay together,” I ordered.

  “Stop fucking around; we have to move,” Rook said. He’d stepped into my leadership role without even a millisecond of hesitation.

  He was no Corporal. No fucking way.

  “Jones, lead on; Jordon take point with him. Flynn and Pierce in the middle, Rook and I will bring up the rear. Jones, give me the sat phone; I’m going to check in with Jackson.” We started at a good pace, with Jones’s long legs eating up ground, he would get us to the fields in plenty of time.

  I let Rook get some distance in front of me before dialing the secure line at the Wonka House. It hardly finished ringing before Jackson’s gruff voice answered.

  “Checking in. We’re on foot, should arrive at the target by dawn.” I fell back even more. I was not about to trust Rook at my back when I didn’t know who he really was or what the fuck he was doing here. My suspicions of him were growing with every step we took.

  “Copy that, Mic.” Jackson’s voice was crackling and sounded far away.

  “You have some explaining to do, Master Sergeant.” When he didn’t respond, I continued. “There is something off about Rook. Explain now, before he has an accident.” I was bluffing and Jackson would know that, but it got my point across.

  “He’s a plant. From my contact in the DoD. I had no choice. That’s all I can tell you for now. When you get home, I’ll tell you the rest.” The click of the phone hanging up in my ear sounded very final. Someone higher up was playing a dangerous game with me, and with the lives of my men. In the abstract I knew that Jackson must have a boss, but I had never heard of him until now.

  “Fuck,” I said, with feeling, stowing the sat phone in a pocket on my vest. I jogged and caught up with Rook.

  “So, Corporal, what flavor are you?” His head whipped around at my words, the stoic mask finally slipping, showing the man underneath. Fierce intelligence burned in his eyes, easily seen even in the moonlight.

  “I’m not a Corporal. It’s classified.” His voice was just above a whisper.

  “You’re fucking kidding me right now, right? I eat classified little boys like you for breakfast. Spit it out, Rook, if that’s even your name,” I whisper-shouted back. I could see Pierce’s silhouette ahead, too far ahead. We were spreading out too thin.

  “My name is actually the only thing you know that is correct. I am Matthew Riley; it was my cousin that betrayed you.” He didn’t look at me, just kept trudging ahead.

  “Your rank, soldier,” I commanded. My patience was low on a good day. I had a long list of shitty fucking days leading up to this moment.

  “Sergeant First Class Matthew Riley.” he barked and it was my turn to be surprised. He outranked me. Jackson had put a man into my unit who outranked me. It didn’t matter as much as it would if we were regular enlisted, but we still operated using the rank and file of the Army.

  “Fucking hell,” Grabbing his arm and jerking him to a stop, I got as close to his face as possible given our height difference. “Listen here. I don’t care right now, but as soon as we get back; you, me, and Jackson are going to have a long fucking talk. Got it? While we are out here, I’m in command. Copy me, you lying fucker?” I snarled in his face. Shoving away from him, I hiked ahead.

  “Copy that, Sergeant,” I heard from behind me. The sarcasm was thick enough to be edible.

  Catching up to Pierce and Flynn, I fell in next to them. Anger had me tightening my fists and cursing under my breath.

  “Everything ok, Mic?” Pierce was brave enough to ask.

  “Just fine and fucking dandy.” I needed to calm down. We were about to lie in wait and end these Vega fuckers. I needed to be focused on that, not whatever was going on with Rook.

  “Well, sounds like something has your panties in a wad,” Flynn spouted at me. “Pull that shit out of your ass; we have work to do.”

  “True enough, Flynn.” I’m not sure who was more surprised, Flynn or Pierce.

  “This is a first. It has to be. I don’t remember this ever happening to me! A woman said I was right!” Flynn was getting louder with each word, his excitement taking over his sense.

  “Shut the fuck up, man, or today will be your last,” Pierce quietly told him.

  The fields were in sight. The dawn was just starting to brighten the horizon. Pinks and yellows swirled together, getting brighter with every passing minute.

  “Get into position and hurry the fuck up,” I said into the radio. We fanned out. Pierce was belly-crawling next to the road, laying his charges and mines. Jones and Jordon went up the small rise, disappearing into the dry grass and l
ow bushes. If I hadn’t watched them get into place, I would never have seen them. Excellent.

  Taking cover just under the edge of a bush, I lay down on my belly in the dirt, propping my rifle in front of me. Scanning the fields through my scope, there was no movement. It was early, so we had a wait ahead of us. A breeze was blowing the poppies back and forth, making them dance gently. Strange how something so beautiful could turn into something so deadly.

  “In position, over.” One-by-one the men checked in. Pierce, Flynn and I were on the opposite side of the road from Rook, Jones, and Jordon. Each of us could see the other, but we were too far apart to communicate very well. The sun rose fully, bathing us in its growing heat. I hoped this fucker would take an early lunch; I did not want to be sitting here in the heat all fucking day.

  “Radio silence until target arrives. Over.” Silence settled down upon us like a blanket. Jones was in his element, dug in and waiting. I hated the waiting, the sitting still, the controlled breathing. I preferred acting on my plan, executing it flawlessly. It just so happened that this time around, sitting and waiting was the best plan.

  ****

  Jordon settled in with the spotter’s scope, tucked in close to Jones’s side. This wasn’t his favorite thing to do, but it was one he was decent at: tracking wind changes and elevation, and helping to execute that perfect shot. Ideally the shot would enter through the base of the throat or heart, causing instant death severing the brain stem or stopping the heart. There would be no twitching, screaming, gurgling or death rattles. Just the thud of a bullet and down into the fucking dirt he would go.

  “You good?” Jones whispered. He was like a rock, not moving a millimeter. He was glued to his rifle, eyes looking for his target.

  “I’m peachy keen,” Jordon muttered back, when in reality his nuts itched and he needed to piss. Neither need would be met for a long while. How did Jones do this shit all the time? The man must not have a bladder.

  ****

  Rook was to the left of Jordon and Jones. He should have been focused on the target and completing this mission. Instead, he was worried about Mic. How she had figured it out, he wasn’t entirely sure. When he’d first got off that jet and saw her a few days ago, he knew right away she was in command. She wore the heavy mantel of leadership well; it suited her and fit her small frame.

  Maybe she recognized in others what she saw most in herself. His tone of voice or something. Who knew? Now that she knew he wasn’t what he had said he was, the only truth in his presence here was that he wanted to be a member of Steel. He had just come from something so black and so classified that the only possible place to move him was into another special operations group.

  His taking command was never an option. Even if it had been offered, he wanted no part of it. He came here wanting to stay in the service that he loved and to keep his sanity. He could no longer be in deep special operations, planted inside various terrorist cells around the world. When he heard of this opportunity to join the envied Steel Corps, he did everything he could to be on that jet.

  Now he was here, they were on mission, and Mic was pissed the fuck off. She had every right to be. When they got back, indeed they would be having a conversation. He just hoped he came out at the end of it still a member of Steel.

  Chapter 16

  Even before the sun broke fully over the horizon, villagers had quickly moved into the fields, working through them, row by row, harvesting the flowers. It was brutal backbreaking work. No machines to aid them and no shade. They sang in time with each other, keeping a steady rhythm as they worked.

  A white spot floated in front of my eyes. I blinked, clearing the dust from them. Sunlight was reflecting off of an approaching vehicle. Our target was moving in.

  “Target approaching. Over,” I whispered.

  “Copy,” Jones replied. The vehicles slowed as they neared the fields. In the lead was a large Dodge truck, sicarios riding in the truck bed, actively scanning the area surrounding the fields for threats. In the middle was the Land Rover, completely blacked out other than the windshield. Another Dodge truck made up the rear guard.

  “Jones, you worry about Vega. If Mercedes is in there, I’ll take her out. The rest of you, pick off as many guards as you can. We’ve got them in a cross-fire.” Their little convoy was smack in the middle of the road; we had elevated positions on either side of them. This was going to be a turkey shoot.

  “Copy.” Each of them radioed in. The vehicles stopped; the guards hopping down first. They created a loose perimeter around the Rover. I waited, breathless. One of the sicarios opened the rear door.

  Out stepped Adolfo Vega; bells rang in my head, angels sang. Our target was falling right into my hands. A man in a sharp three piece suit followed him out. Grey and double breasted, the suit was obviously tailored to fit his trim form. Putting my eye to my scope, I surveyed him carefully. There was nothing in the file about this fucking guy.

  “Target acquired,” Jones whispered over the radio. “Permission to fire.” The guards were spreading out, lulled into a sense of security. I wanted as many of them as far away from Adolfo as possible.

  “Hold,” I answered him. I flicked my safety off as Adolfo moved into the field closest to Jones. He was talking to workers and inspecting the flowers. The Suit was still beside the Rover, waiting impatiently it seemed, his hands twitching where they rested next to his thighs. The guards were spread out, a handful at each end of the road and only a few in the field with Adolfo. It wasn’t going to get better than this.

  “Watch the villagers. I don’t want a single fucking civilian casualty. Fire when ready.” The shot rang out almost before I was done speaking. I watched the bullet hit Adolfo in the base of his neck, blood spurting out behind him in an arc. He was dead before he hit the dusty ground, body limp in a growing pool of blood sinking into the dust.

  Guards scrambled for cover or fell where they stood. Taking them completely by surprise we quickly thinned their numbers. The sicarios recovered at an impressive rate, rapidly returning fire. We made short work of them, firing nearly continuously. Our near perfect accuracy coupled with effective cover made it impossible for them to put up a viable defense. The smart villagers dove onto the ground and covered their heads. The stupid ones ran in panic, only to be cut down by the hot bullets of the sicarios. They didn’t bother to try and avoid them; they were indiscriminately firing.

  The Suit flung himself into the driver’s seat of the Rover, starting it up and spinning a cloud of dust in his wake as he raced down the narrow dirt road.

  “Pierce! Now!” I commanded. Mines exploded on either side of the road, rocking the vehicle, but not stopping it. Shrapnel pinged against the sides, denting it and cracking the windshield, but the heavy armor protected the engine block and the tires. Three were flat and throwing shredded rubber off with each rotation; revealing the steel bands inside that kept the wheels turning. Still, he didn’t slow, moving forward at an impressive pace. The antenna on the roof of the Rover got my attention. He was already too far away for us to do much about it.

  “We need to move. Right fucking now. He has a radio in that Rover.” Urgency thickened my voice and had my heart slamming against my ribs. These fields were only about a mile outside of the village. We needed to be long gone before they had a chance to recover and pursue us.

  “Pierce, got enough left to take out those trucks?” Rook’s voice came over the radio. Most of the villagers were lying in shock, too scared to move. The guards who remained alive were too badly wounded to do anything.

  “Of course I do; cover me.” Pierce shimmied down the hill, stopping at the nearest truck first. He crawled under it for no more than a second or two before sliding back out and repeating the action on the other truck.

  “Let’s move.” I signaled the men to come to me. Jordon ran to my position, leaping over bodies as he went.

  “Get those villagers clear, dammit!” I was frantic, not wanting any deaths of the villagers on our h
ands.

  Pierce began yelling and gesturing wildly at them, finally getting a few to get up and run back down the road to the village. The ones running started an exodus, then they all ran. Some stopped to drag the wounded, but most were panicked and fleeing for their lives. We probably looked like police or a rival cartel to them; they wanted nothing to do with us.

  “Blow it, Pierce! Fuck, we have to go!” I shouted. A dust cloud was coming closer to us. The villagers were fleeing off of the road, hiding where they could in the brush. Pierce was running up the small hill toward us, clutching an RPG launcher to his chest. Leave it to Pierce to find more explosives in the midst of blowing shit up. I swear he was better than a bomb dog.

  The first truck blew, with the other following it mere seconds later; the ground shook with the force of the explosions, fire and molten metal raining down on the fields and road. Thick black smoke choked the air with the smell of burnt rubber and gasoline. The smoke cleared for a second and I could see the road, two giant holes where the trucks had been effectively destroyed it. What was left of the road was blocked with pieces of engines and unidentifiable hunks of smoldering metal. The sicarios would have to drive through the fields to give chase, destroying what was left of their precious poppies.

  As we ran, I counted heads quickly, confirming everyone was present. We moved as one with Rook on point, and Jordon and I in the rear, covering our asses. The dust cloud was getting closer, close enough that I could make out the vehicles in the lead; more trucks, built to go off road and through this sandy, shitty terrain.

  “Move your asses!” I shouted, pushing them forward. Our Rover was in sight. Flynn broke ahead, diving in behind the wheel. I could hear the engines growing louder as they got closer. I covered Pierce as he ran toward me; firing rapidly, my finger squeezed the trigger as fast as it could. I clicked empty; popping the spent mag out, I slammed a full one in with a hard smack of my palm. Pierce reached me. Dropping to one knee, he took aim and fired his only rocket with a whoosh.