Hardened by Steel

by J. B. Havens

  “We got you, Master Sergeant,” they all replied.

  “This mission isn’t going to take much finesse. I don’t care how you fucking get it done. We get our girl, kill this bastard and get the hell home. In that order. Any questions?” Jackson was fierce; this was the first time any of them had seen him in the field. As a young man, he must have been a force to be reckoned with.

  “I do, Master Sergeant,” Jordon said, raising his hand.

  “Ask it, but put your fucking hand down. I’m your NCO, not your fucking teacher.”

  “Julio is mine. Any objections?” Jordon calmly said, his voice not giving away the rage boiling inside his gut.

  “None. Flynn, update on the ETA.” Jackson had the ability to give orders without needing for them to be actual questions.

  “Ten minutes. Gear up, fuckers, we’re almost there.”

  Jordon clutched his weapon close, fingering the trigger guard softly. He had never been so ready to kill someone before. It was a necessary part of war and being a soldier, but never a task he looked forward to. Today was different; he would bathe in Julio’s blood and make him pray for death to take him with its dark grasp.

  ****

  The cold woke me up. I was freezing, shaking, and shivering with it, my whole body trembling with the attempt to warm up. After the cold, the next thing I noticed was that I was in a different position. My arms were no longer tied behind my back, instead they were extended over my head and bent backward at an awkward angle. I jerked on them, but they were tied so tightly and in such a strange position, that I couldn’t move more than my fingers.

  There was enough light that, though it was rather dim, I was able to get a good look at the room around me. I was somewhere else. I was in what appeared to be a utility room of some sort. The room had grey stone walls, and the little bit of the floor that I could see was concrete. It eerily reminded me of the sound proof room back on our compound. There was no two-way mirror here, at least not that I could see. I didn’t see furniture or tables of any kind.

  How did I get here? I don’t remember moving.

  Confusion was thick in my mind, muddying my thoughts. The last thing I remember was a young girl bringing me a glass of water. It was slightly bitter, but I’m in fucking Mexico; the water sucks here. It must have been a drug, something to knock me out. My head ached and my mouth was dry and cottony.

  As my mind slowly cleared, I became aware of my legs; they were no longer tied together at the ankles. I was able to raise my head enough to look down. The sight of my bare skin explained why I was so cold; I was naked. My feet were tied into stirrups with shiny white ropes circling my ankles, lashing them tight to the stirrup supports. My legs were splayed open; the cold air brushed against the most intimate parts of my body, making me cringe in humiliation. My feet faced the door; I was spread out and bared for all to see as soon as that fucking door opened.

  I was tied naked... on my back... on a gynecologist table.

  Oh fuck…

  ****

  The chopper landed without incident kicking up dust and sand, swirling it around them. Jordon squinted, trying to keep the grit out of his eyes. The team left the chopper behind and began the five mile hike in the direction of Mic’s GPS signal.

  “These guys must be really fucking stupid or Mic stashed her phone somewhere,” Jones said, as he led the way, tablet in hand.

  Jackson and then the others shadowed him, with Jordon bringing up the rear. He began to jog, quickly passing Pierce and Flynn and coming up alongside Jackson. The rest of them followed suit, picking up on his urgency.

  “Hurry the fuck up. I have a horrible fucking feeling that something really goddamn awful is about to happen to her.” Jordon shoved Jones a little, getting his attention and causing him to run. They were Steel; five miles in a desert was nothing to them.

  “Jordon, let Jones lead. Move your asses’ boys!” Jackson barked.

  They picked up the pace, quickly moving from a slow jog to a run. The warmth of the sun sapped their energy, but they did their best to ignore it. Adrenaline spiked through them all, sharpening their focus and speeding their hearts.

  ****

  The door swung open on well-oiled silent hinges. A light flicked on directly above my eyes, blinding me for a few moments. I was still blinking the spots away when a shadow appeared over me. Julio’s face came into focus, his eyes burning with a sickening combination of lust and hate.

  “You are even more beautiful than I imagined…” His hand reached for my face and I tried, but was powerless to evade it. His long fingers stroked from my forehead, down to my chin, over…and over. He was petting me.

  “My dear, I cannot wait to show you this new world I’ve brought you into. You may be scared at first, but you don’t need to be. I will set you free.” He stopped touching my face and stepped away. I could feel him down near my feet, but he was far enough away that I couldn’t see him anymore.

  A loud screech of squealing wheels assaulted my ears. Julio came back into view, pulling a small metal cart behind him. I lifted my head as far as I was able, trying to see something beyond my toes and the door.

  “I apologize my darling; I really must remember to oil these wheels. Do lay back; straining your neck like that will make you very uncomfortable.”

  “Fuck off,” I snapped at him. Panic gripped me in an iron vise. I racked my brain for some way, some method, to free myself. Short of convincing him to let me go, I was coming up empty.

  I didn’t see the slap coming, but it felt like my face was exploding with the force of it. The back of his hand struck out again, cracking against my other cheek and my mouth. He’d re-opened my already split lip. I could feel warm blood trickling down my chin and new bruises would soon blossom.

  “What have I told you about your language? I would hate to cut out your tongue so early in our time together, but I will if you force me.” He flashed a knife in front of my face, catching the light on the blade. I saw my reflection in the blade for a brief second. I looked just as terrified as I felt.

  A knock on the door startled me. Julio sighed heavily and set the knife aside on the cart. While he went to answer the door I looked at the cart, knowing even as I did, that I shouldn’t have. I know better than most which tools are used in torture and which ones are for show. There were no props on this cart, but real instruments of torture: scissors, various knives, a large hammer, chisels, and worse yet, a blow torch. There were also cabinets below that could hold so many other untold horrors.

  Come on, boys... hurry up and get here or you will only find pieces of me…

  ****

  They had the village in sight.

  Fucking finally... Jordon thought, as he crouched beside Jones near the first house they came upon after the poppy fields.

  “What do you think?” He whispered to Jones. The village looked empty; there were no people going about their day. The windows on the small shack-like houses were tightly shut; doors were closed and probably bolted. When they had passed the poppy fields, there were no people harvesting the remaining blossoms.

  “I think they know something is up and they’re being smart,” came Jones’s reply. “Watch for snipers; they might be on rooftops near the mansion, covering the village.” Jones pointed forward at the small houses closest to the mansion.

  “We don’t have time to dick around. We need to get to her. What’s the plan?” Jordon asked as Jackson crouched beside him. The others were covering their flank and rear.

  “I think we need to go in quick and quiet. I’m not worried about the villagers; they won’t want to get involved. He’s got her in the big house just past the town square. Let’s get a better look. By twos, gentlemen.” Jackson signaled to Rook to pair up with him, Jordon stayed with Jones and Flynn and Pierce covered their asses.

  “Watch your six, stay down and behind cover as much as possible. This fucker must know we’re coming. Stay frosty,” Jackson spoke into the radio.

  Jordon
watched Jones’s back as they crept past houses, checking corners and staying in a disciplined formation. There was not a soul in sight. All this place needed was a few tumble weeds and it would be a veritable ghost town.

  They were one street away from the mansion off of the village square. “Fan out, I want eyes on every angle of this place,” Jackson ordered.

  Jordon followed Jones around a side street to observe the front of the house. There they saw a Jeep encased in ankle-deep mud. Jordon looked at the sky where the thick clouds still swirled and boiled, but held their rain.

  “She’s here. The Jeep out front corresponds to the GPS,” Jones said into the radio.

  A shot rang out, forcing Flynn and Pierce to run forward, as bullets smacked into the ground at their feet. They reached the cover of a house near the front of the mansion.

  “Where is that shit coming from, dammit?” Jackson’s irate voice coming through their head-sets.

  “Rooftop, twelve o’clock,” Rook said. Crouching behind the corner of a building he sighted in and fired. His aim was true: the sicario on the rooftop took the bullet in the chest, and then another as he stood in panic. Rook fired again; the third shot knocked the guard off of the roof and down into the mud below.

  Pierce broke off from Flynn, streaking across the courtyard of the house. He selected a truck parked off to the side well clear of the Jeep.

  “Guard at two o’clock,” Jones reported from his position at the western corner of the mansion. The guard was standing near the truck Pierce had slid under. Pierce stayed there for less than a minute before he was back out and running to a shed near the rear of the property, out of their line of sight.

  Jordon fired before Jones could, dropping the guard into the dirt with a thud. A second guard popped out from behind the cover of Mic’s Jeep. That guard fired wildly, panic rushing his aim. Bullets whistled through the air, forcing them all to take cover. Chunks of plaster flew off of the houses and sand sprayed into the air all around them.

  “Someone take care of this fucker!” Rook shouted from where he was huddled beside Jackson. Flynn exposed himself long enough to get eyes on the guard. He fired rapidly, the bullets striking the man in the chest and neck. Blood burst into the air and he fell in a heap.

  A split-second of silence was broken by the earth shattering explosion of the truck. Fire and scorched metal flew into the air. Smoke billowed out as the fire grew and burned brightly. Flames and black smoke belched out and darkened the sky. The truck crashed to the ground, throwing blackened metal in all directions.

  A bullet hit the dirt in front of the shed. Jordon checked the rooftops of the houses. There was a hunched figure on the roof of the house that Jackson and Rook were taking cover near.

  “Sniper on the roof-top,” Jordon said into the radio. He signaled Jackson to look up. “Pierce, stay behind cover, sniper is on you.”

  “Copy that,” was his response.

  “Take care of it, Jones,” Jackson ordered.

  “Copy.” Their marksman sighted the guard on the roof and taking only a brief second to aim, fired quickly. The sound was muffled by the suppressor on the end of the barrel. A soft pop was the only noise. The hunched figure fell down behind the edge of the roof.

  “Well done, man,” Flynn said.

  Pierce ran out of the shed and re-joined Flynn on the east side of the house. Guards were running out from the village, converging on the mansion.

  “Pierce and Flynn, help Rook and me make a hole. The time for subtlety is past,” Jackson barked into the radio. “On me, Rook.” Jackson ran across the courtyard to Flynn and Pierce’s position, Rook tight at his back.

  They opened fire on the guards, drawing their fire to the east. “Jordon and Jones, get into that house,” Jackson ordered.

  The guards were running now, trying to advance toward the team. Their rifles fired nearly non-stop until most of the enemy lay dead or dying. Their superior skills had made short work of the motivated, but poorly trained, Mexican guards.

  Jordon ran forward, taking cover near the Jeep first, then advancing forward to the door. Jones was right behind him.

  “Get in there! We’ll be right behind you!” Rook waved them on, running to catch up. Jackson and the others were pinned down by a few remaining industrious guards who had taken cover behind the truck. Rook had advanced before the others got pinned. He was turning and firing, trying to flank the guards. Two dropped in quick succession; a third attempted a last-ditch assault on Pierce, whose well-placed bullet tore through the guard’s forehead.

  Jordon kicked the door right beside the lock. It didn’t budge.

  “Some help here?” Jones and Rook came up beside him. “Count of three. One... two…three!” They kicked together; the door cracked open, ripping splinters of wood from the frame and knocking the door onto its side with a crash that echoed loudly in the marble foyer.

  They advanced through the downstairs, checking rooms as they went. There was no sign of Mic or anyone else.

  “What the fuck? Jones, go upstairs. Rook, come with me; maybe there is a basement.” Jordon was giving orders like he’d been born to it.

  “We shouldn’t split up, Jordon,” Jones replied. “She’s not upstairs, I can almost guarantee it. If there is a basement, that’s where she is.”

  The floor shook and the windows shattered with the force of the blast from the shed. Jordon tucked his face into his chest as best he could while glass rained down. Deadly shards of wood flew through the air, shooting right through a chair-back beside his head. A few inches to the right and he would’ve needed an eye-patch.

  Jordon was up and moving, dust and debris filling the air in a thick cloud. “Come on, dammit! We have to find her before he kills her!” Jordon ordered Rook and Jones. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the others coming in the door, Flynn bleeding from his eyebrow.

  “Go; we’ll take the upstairs, you find that basement.” Jackson led the way up the marble staircase, kicking pieces of splintered wood and chunks of glass out of his way.

  Jordon picked a hallway that led deeper into the house. The structure must have been very old, as it had narrow winding hallways and random staircases. None led down. Suddenly, the hallway opened up into the kitchen. There were two oak doors on either side of the fridge.

  “Jones, take left; I’ll take right. Rook cover us.” Jordon barked out orders, not thinking about chain of command or proper procedure. His entire being was focused on finding the basement and finding Mic.

  “Copy,” Rook said, shouldering his rifle and providing cover while watching the door to the kitchen.

  Jones stepped to the side as best he could; reaching a hand out, he turned the knob and threw open the door.

  “Clear!” Rook shouted. Looking over, a well-stocked walk-in pantry greeted them.

  “My turn.” Jordon did the same as Jones; stood to the side, turned the knob, and eased the door open, pushing until it was flush against the wall.

  “Steps,” Rook confirmed. Looking inside, it was pitch black with a small amount of weak yellow light filtering up from the bottom.

  “Time to walk into the abyss. She’s down there, I can feel it.” Jordon took the first step into the darkness, switching on the light on his MP-5 as he did so.

  Chapter 25

  I struggled and twisted to no avail. The explosions that rocked the house were music to my ears. Sweet release was coming, my boys were here. No one else made an entrance quite like they did.

  “I see by your excitement that you still hold out hope for rescue. To do so is to waste useful energy, my darling. You’re going to need your breath for screaming…” Julio raised the gleaming knife again and with a swift motion, sliced through the top of my thigh in a quick slash; burning pain shot through flesh in a fiery wash. My muscles spasmed and twitched under the assault. I did scream then; I screamed from the burning pain and from the humiliation I was suffering. I screamed at the injustice of my situation.

  Warm blood slid down m
y thigh and pooled under my leg. I was panting and gasping for air. The pain was intense, but nothing that I couldn’t live with. I’d been shot and stabbed before. This wound, while painful, was not going to kill me.

  “Is that all you’ve got, fuck face?” Gasping from pain, I taunted him because it was in my nature; not to, would mean I had given up. I refused to give up. My rescue was here. I just needed to make it a little longer.

  His face darkened with rage; veins popped to the surface of his neck as he flushed red. Without uttering a word, he viciously grabbed me by the jaw. Squeezing my face in his large hand, he held my head still as the knife in his hand descended.

  “I have told you for the final time. Do. Not. Curse. At. Me.” He drug the knife down my right cheek, the sharp blade laying it open nearly to the bone. If I thought the pain in my leg was bad, this was extreme. I couldn’t draw a breath to scream, but I tried anyway, gurgling and gasping as blood filled my mouth. Fiery agony spread in my face. Blood washed down my neck onto my shoulder and chest. I struggled for air, trying to breathe past the pain that encompassed my face.

  I tried to speak, but couldn’t. The pain was pushing me over the edge and into shock. I’d held up okay until now, but I was slipping. The fight was seeping out of me with every pump of my heart that sent blood sliding out of my face and down my neck. My breaths were coming too fast. I was in danger of passing out, which would be an escape and sweet release from my reality. The thought sobered me and I forced myself to drawn a single breath deep into my stomach. The motion moved the flap of skin that used to be my cheek and sent waves of pain cascading through me.

  “Breathe through the pain, my darling. You cannot give up so soon! Show me that famous attitude of yours.” Julio taunted me, smearing his fingers through my blood and down my body. He placed his palm on my bare blood-coated breast, smearing the blood across the rest of my chest and down my stomach; painting me with my own blood.

  I smiled at him as blood seeped out of the gash in my face, my mouth hanging lopsided in a grotesque smile.