by Alex Howell
Everyone nodded their head.
“Marshal?”
Marshal really took the fall on this one, huh. I guess I owe him for not putting me in the line of fire here.
“No sir, just awaiting orders.”
“Orders?”
I swear none of us can do any right at this point. It’s like no matter what we say, we’re in for a world of hurt.
“Your orders are to do what you should have done in Iran—get the vials, stop the terrorist threat, and kill whoever needs to be killed! Now—all of you, get the hell out of here and get to work before I call Luke in here and fire your entire team!”
6
Though Mason just saw it as the general being the general, he noticed that the rest of the team seemed even more dejected than he had thought, and Mason quickly realized it had little to do with the general’s snarky attitude or the lack of sleep.
Rather, what had transpired in Iran was the first time that the team had failed in any capacity. Duke’s betrayal hurt, but they had unraveled that with the help of Case and had prevented the worst of Warrior’s plans. This, however, was a failure, and there was no way to frame it in any other fashion.
Mason had seen this look before—it always came when new members went on a mission that didn’t go perfectly or according to plan. He and his teammates were, weirdly enough, spoiled by their great battlefield success; they did not know what it was like to fail in such dramatic fashion. Mason couldn’t say he really had in combat, but the near-murder of his daughter was enough to shake any semblance of overconfidence out of him.
Still, Onyx needed a lift, and Mason knew it. Marshal wasn’t going to be able to provide it; he could try, but he was dealing with so much at the moment that he wouldn’t be able to find the strength to, and even if he did, it would mean more if such a message of confidence came from one of its own. Leadership, he had learned long ago, came from a variety of sources, and, sometimes, having it come from the lower ranks was what made it the most effective.
And so, just as they came across a lobby in the building, that would have led to the exit, Mason motioned for the crew to silently follow him inside. Marshal gave no objection and even encouraged the men to follow Mason.
The dejected members of Onyx sat down at a break room table marred by office employees’ previous encounters with ketchup, mayonnaise, and mustard. By all accounts, it was rather opposite from what the team had had during the Warrior mission, but soldiers had to live Spartan lifestyles sometimes. If anything, it might do the team some good to rally around the poor living conditions of the moment.
“All right,” Marshal said, looking the most exhausted—and the most on edge—of anyone in the room. “What gives, Mason? Just what are you up to now?”
Mason knew he had to tread carefully; he didn’t want to overrun his bounds and step on Marshal’s toes with him as the leader. He chose his next words carefully.
“I was just thinking—we need to change our game plan up a bit.”
Marshal certainly wasn’t listening with enthusiasm or an eager ear, but he was listening all the same. Mason knew that a simple speech about “getting things done” and “we can be strong” wasn’t going to work—it was too simple, and the people around him had too much training to fall for simple hoo-rah speeches. Rather, he needed something that was uplifting because it was tactical and logical.
“I see it like this. Our previous failure was due to problems with timing and coordination.”
Marshal nodded solemnly. So far, so good. Let’s keep it going.
“Right, well, here’s the thing. All of that was due to pure logistical error. It wasn’t because someone went off the line or because one of us panicked. We are still Onyx. We’re still the best damn group of operatives in America. We just had something wrong in the way of how we approached the problem. So, we’re going to correct it.”
“How?” Raina asked.
Mason briefly thought of how the simplest things were sometimes the hardest things, but he let the thought slide. Philosophy could wait. However, he did take a moment to appreciate the fact that at least the team seemed to be more attuned to Mason than they were in the room.
“So—we have a general idea where these terrorists are right? They’re in D.C., right?”
The team nodded and murmured in agreement. Feeling he had the momentum of support, Mason pressed on with his idea.
“Then let’s create that perimeter Thomson was talking about—around the city. Fan out, and find these guys.”
He knew he’d have to elaborate, as such a thing wasn’t feasible with their current resources. Everyone on the team thought of a perimeter as what they would have at a military base, not in what they had on an entire city—at least not without a hell of lot more people than the ones sitting in that room right now. Besides, Kyle isn’t exactly someone I’d trust with a weapon right now.
Raina expressed as much, giving Mason the opportunity to explain his idea.
“The idea is that we are responsible for a given area through surveillance, questioning, and that sort of thing, not that we will literally be forming a perimeter,” Mason said. “We can’t cover the entire area with our eyes, but, with our skills, I don’t see why we can’t. And, besides, my guess would be that these terrorists are likely hiding in a few given areas; it’s extraordinarily unlikely that they are in some luxury high-rise near Georgetown.”
Unfortunately, extraordinarily unlikely never meant a guarantee. But given the lack of adequate directions from General Thomson and the limited resources they had, they’d just have to hope “extraordinarily unlikely” played out as expected.
Because the alternative was too harsh to consider.
“As long as we stay in contact by phone, I’m sure we are all perfectly capable of going it alone. We’ll have to be on top of comms and monitoring multiple fields of vision, but think like a terrorist. If we do that, individually, we can cover the biggest holes in the city. And once someone has intel on where these guys might be, we can inform the others, and we can swoop in as a unit and take these guys out.”
Unfortunately, it was here when Mason seemed to lose control of the team right when he most needed them. And the one person he always figured would be on his side seemed to have the most doubt.
“Alone?” Raina said, treating the word as if it was a curse. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”
“What else would you have us do?” Mason said. “We don’t have more than the people here. Maybe we can pull in a few more through Luke, but what I’m talking about isn’t meant to be a literal perimeter like you’d see at a Navy base.”
“Right, but still—if one of us gets compromised, it would be hours before anyone else would know it.”
“That’s why frequent comms are important.”
“But that’s not—”
“All right, that’s enough,” Marshal said, standing up.
It was probably for the best, anyway. Mason was already frustrated that his supposed closest ally on the team had been the one to question him, and for her to keep pushing…
It was just her being a good soldier, questioning the job for legitimate reasons. That he was upset at that told him all he needed to know about how tired he was. He had to find a way to get himself in order first.
“Look, we just got chewed out by the general in there and now we’re trying to discuss strategy for something that we’re still reeling on. Personally, I’m of the opinion that we all take a break.”
I’m sorry, what did you just say?
“Yes, there’s a threat coming, but if you think they’re going to launch around the election, that means we have weeks, not hours. I’ll talk to Luke; the rest of you, take a break. OK? Go home. We’ll reconvene tomorrow. I’ll give you the location tomorrow morning.”
Mason hated that idea. As far as he was concerned, there was on-mission and off-mission, and the switch could only be flipped with the assignment of a new one or the completion of a current
one. “Taking a break” wasn’t a luxury afforded to people in war, and it wasn’t a luxury afforded to a private contracting team like this. He still needed that nap, but the idea was that the team would take shifts doing their work; give Mason an hour while everyone else covered, and he’d be good for a full day.
But when Mason looked at the rest of the team, considered how badly he had wanted a nap, and how everyone was probably not going to operate at peak efficiency…
Well, there was a first for everything. His one-hour nap would probably turn into a full day’s rest, and then the rest of Onyx would fall apart, and then it would be one giant mess. Better, he supposed, to have the team plan a rest day in which it could recover than for it to haphazardly fall into one.
Although, knowing himself, Mason figured he was just as likely to spend the night wide awake after a nap that lasted less than thirty minutes.
“All right,” Mason said with a sigh. “Let’s meet up tomorrow night then. I’m jet lagged anyways.”
But could keep pushing if need be.
No, Mason, you need the rest. Don’t you say another word.
“Good deal,” Marshal said. “That’s an order, Onyx. Go home and get the hell out of here.”
Except home is empty for me now.
Damn, I should have thought about that before agreeing to this one.
Still, Mason wasn’t about to go back on what he had said and keep the entire team beholden to his whims. As it was, it didn’t take long for the team to scatter—the exhaustion and need for separation was obvious.
The more Mason thought about it, as Chris shook hands and Kyle weakly waved goodbye, the more he didn’t want to go home. Though it would cost money, it almost seemed like a better option to get a hotel room so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the heartache of an empty home right now. If rest was what he needed, he sure didn’t think that he would get it in a home meant for three.
But such thoughts were put briefly on hold when he realized something. Everyone had left…
That was, everyone except Raina, who remained behind with Mason. Talk about something to distract me.
“So,” she said once everyone, even Marshal, had departed. “Walk with me to my vehicle? D.C. is so dangerous these days, you know.”
Mason gave a chortle from his throat.
“I’d be more scared to be on my own than for you to be on your own,” he said. “So I think you’ll have to protect me.”
“Oh, my,” Raina said with a real laugh. “C’mon, tough guy.”
The two began a very slow walk outside to the bright skies. With their location close to the Pentagon and Chrysler City, there was absolutely nothing unsafe about where they were, at least to their bodies.
To Mason’s emotional state, though, with what he was thinking? It was a fast-tracked highway to his danger zone.
“So, Mason, what do you think the odds are that we actually find these guys? Or even the vials that they are carrying? You got a bold plan, which I like. But we have to make it work.”
It didn’t sound like an actual question based in fear. Rather, it sounded like small talk that Raina wanted to engage in. It was a bit odd to say that it was semi-light conversation, but that’s how Mason inferred it from her tone.
“I know,” Mason said. I like ‘em bold, though. “D.C. is a big city—but still, there are really only so many places that they could hide. And besides, I have a hunch that these terrorists are like a fish out of water over here.”
“What do you mean by that?”
It was coming to mind as he spoke, but he knew he had hit on something that would help the team going forward.
“D.C. may be their target, but I don’t think that they are going to be too familiar with their surroundings. They will most likely try and set up shop in some rundown part of town and try and keep a low profile. But pretty soon these guys are going to stand out like a sore thumb. I guarantee it. How long do you think we could’ve kept up appearances in Tehran if we had to stay there longer than a night? Can you imagine us, two white folk, trying to be like locals for more than an evening?”
Staring into Mason’s dark brown eyes, Raina couldn’t help but smile.
“Not saying that they’d stick out because of their skin color, but anyone who has a heavy burden on them will break eventually,” he continued. “These guys know they’re going to eventually cause a terrorist attack if things go according to them. They know it could fall apart. That will make them stand out, sooner rather than later.”
Raina just kept staring at him, to the point where it was past being obvious. Mason, for his part, just gave a casual shrug and a very slight grin when she smiled at him. He hadn’t done anything deep—nor had he won the mission yet. That would have to come before he’d let himself feel too good.
But Raina followed that up with a yawn, and the tension was immediately broken.
“Guess I really should walk you to your car, huh? Wouldn’t want you to fall asleep in the street.”
Mason had meant it more as a natural step than anything more, but when he saw Raina’s eyes, he couldn’t help but realize how what he had said had come across.
“You really don’t have to protect me. I’m a black belt, remember? Not like I suddenly turn into a white belt just because I’m lacking sleep.”
Mason chuckled, feeling slightly silly.
“Uh… yeah Raina, I can imagine you drop kicking more than a few baddies—this is true. Although, I was thinking you’d be more of a blue belt when you lack sleep.”
“Luckily, you’re not a baddie, otherwise, I might just have to drop kick you for that comment,” she said with a smirk, nodding toward her car. “C’mon. Let’s go.”
Stopping in front of her car in the parking lot, Raina clicked the button on her key ring to unlock it. Immediately after the click, Mason made it a point to open the driver’s door for her, even though the car would have automatically opened for her. Can’t help myself.
Or maybe I can, but I don’t want to…
“Look at that,” Raina said with a smile.
“I guess I’m just old school like that,” Mason said with a shrug.
“Old school, huh?” Raina said, “Well…can you teach an old dog new tricks?”
There was something in the way that she had asked that question that suggested there was a follow -up to it on the other side, and Mason was more than a little curious to hear it… even if he more or less knew what it was going to be.
“Whatcha mean?” Mason said casually.
What happened next stunned him and showed him there was nothing casual about what Raina had done or wanted to do. Even if he had expected it, he had not expected the boldness with which Raina acted.
Surprising him, Raina then took his head and looked deep into his eyes, almost pleadingly. Mason recoiled in gut instinct to being touched on the face, but he had no idea how to handle it overall. It was…
Almost pleasant?
“Because if you aren’t too set in your ways, I think you could really use a change Mason—something new in your life.”
Raina’s eyes glinted in the illumination of the street light.
“Or someone…”
Mason wasn’t stupid. He knew what Raina was doing. And it felt good.
In fact, he felt quite sure that if he wanted to, he could have kissed her.
But, for whatever reason, at that moment, the memory of Bree came back to him.
The fact that he still wore his wedding ring was as much a sign of his mindset as anything else. There was nothing to indicate that he could move forward in a manner that was fair to Raina or anyone else. So long as Bree was someone he thought of daily, so long as he projected to the world that he was married, so long as he had these thoughts swirling in his head… he couldn’t do anything. It wasn’t fair to Raina.
“Yeah…” he drifted off before changing the subject. “I’ll think on it. But for now, I, uhh, I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Get some rest, or, somethin
g, OK?”
Raina suddenly felt like she was transported back to some clumsy high school romance in which her partner was afraid to make a move. She couldn’t help but chuckle at their embarrassment. It was…
Well, it was something that clearly couldn’t be rushed. That much was evident from her facial expressions.
“Yeah, I’ll get some rest. Thanks, Mason.”
Mason then shut the car door for her and waved her off as Raina slowly pulled out of the parking garage. He felt simultaneously thrilled, conflicted, and confused all at the same time. He didn’t know where these things were going to lead. Despite his best efforts, sometimes he felt as if everything was going absolutely chaotic—but in the end all he could do was hope for the best. That was true for Raina, that was true for Onyx, and that was true for Clara.
Most of all, that was true for himself. Just hope for the best.
And, for at least tonight, for the city not to turn into an Ebola quarantine zone because we too desperately needed a one-night vacation.
7
September 5th, 2028
3:11 p.m.
Baltimore, MD
Mason had a tour in Iran, multiple chew-outs from General Thomson, and some awkward flirting to distract him, but when he stepped into the comfort of his home, his mind exhausted and his body all but craving the couch, he had no more distractions.
He was alone.
For the first time since high school, since before Bree Jackson was someone he even knew existed, he was living alone.
And it was… it was sad.
This was a day that, intellectually, he had known was coming for over a decade. As soon as he had laid Bree to rest, he knew that he was never going to get married again and certainly never going to have kids again. Thus, Clara was it. As soon as she left, that was it.
As the years went by and she grew, he knew that she was never going to stay in the home forever. One, that would have been bad for her growth and it would have reflected poorly on him as a parent. Two, she had way more capabilities than that anyways. And three, it would have been bad for him anyways; perhaps by forcing him to adapt, her departure would be the best thing for him.
