Chapter Forty
Aaron drove the bullet-ridden pick-up truck right through the open gates and into the yard at Big Ed’s Auto Salvage. He made his way back through an intricate steel maze created by stacks of smashed and cannibalized vehicles of every description. Finding a secluded place in the vast expanse of the mechanical morgue, he parked the truck between a towering barbed-wire fence and the scorched hulk of a burned-out motorhome.
As he led Jenny back toward the front of the yard, the alarm bells began to ring in his head, his danger sense tingling hotly. He slowed his pace, listening for any sounds that would betray an unfriendly presence. Hearing none, the pair continued on while the hair on the back of his neck still bristled, remaining upright in silent warning.
“I thought you might show up here,” Ed said, suddenly appearing in the middle of the road, startling his two visitors.
“You don’t sound too happy to see us.” Aaron replied.
“On the contrary, I’m very glad to see you. It’s just that if you’re here, the situation must be worse than I thought.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” he said, bringing Jenny to stand next to him. “Ed, this is Dr. Jennifer Ryan. Jenny this is Ed O’Brian. You can trust him. He can help us.”
Ed extended his hand to Jenny. “Nice to meet you.”
With the pleasantries now over, the three moved toward the office. Ed pointed to the building, “There’s food and stuff inside. Help yourself.”
Jenny pointed at the rapidly expanding bloodstain on Aaron’s coat. “He needs a hospital. He’s been wounded.”
Once inside the warm and comfortable confines of his personal apartments, Ed looked at the puckered skin and torn flesh of the two wounds along Aaron’s ribcage and scowled.
“Nice work,” he said, retrieving a quart bottle of Glenlivet scotch from a side-board cabinet. He handed the 15-year old whiskey to his guest. “A little liquid anesthetic?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Aaron said as he pulled a long draw straight from the bottle. He stopped to breathe, then took a second, smaller swallow. “Thanks.”
Unrolling a white towel on the counter, Ed laid out the pieces of his first aid kit in neat rows. “A through-and-through, and not a small caliber either, looks like a 9 mill. Overall you were pretty lucky.” he said as he worked to staunch the bleeding.
Aaron winced as Ed pulled the black thread through his skin, then cut the last suture.
“I can’t believe I missed that back-up piece in his pocket,” Aaron groused, gritting his teeth in pain. “I must be getting senile.”
“Well, nobody’s perfect.” Ed observed as he exchanged the open bottle of scotch in Aaron’s hand for a crystal rocks glass. He filled it, and then sat on a small leather-covered bench near the center of the room.
Warming themselves by the fire, Aaron and Jenny took turns telling Ed everything that happened to them in the past 72 hours.
“Thanks.” Aaron said as he accepted a refill, grimacing in pain as he gingerly touched his bandaged wound.
Ed saw him wince and tossed a lopsided grin. “Suck it up, It’s only 10 stitches,” he said, passing off the injury with a dismissing wave of his hand. “We did worst than that at BUD/s…to each other.”
“What’s Buds?” Jenny asked, sitting on the small leather covered couch across the room, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. “Some kind of drinking game?”
“It’s a club we belong to, kind of like a fraternity.” Ed answered.
Aaron smiled to himself at the memories Ed’s left-handed comment evoked.
With a drop-out rate of close to 90 percent, BUD/s or Basic Underwater Demolition/SEALs training, is the human crucible where the Navy forged the soft coal of raw recruits. Those that survived the twenty-four week course became diamond-hard, the inhuman trials driving self-doubt and fear from their minds and bodies.
Men who endured BUD/s together, men like Aaron Casey and Ed O’Brian, were more than fellow naval officers, they were brothers, bonded to each other for life…or death.
Downing the contents of his own glass, Ed cleared his throat and fixed his gaze on his friend. “Well, you really stepped in it this time, pal.”
The two long-time friends discussed detailed options about what to do next, while Jenny sat by the fireplace sipping tea, listening intently, occasionally asking a question or offering a suggestion.
After an hour, Ed stretched his legs toward the fire. “You also need to know that the Fed, Raven, she’s convinced your friend here plotted to steal the battery project and sell it.”
Aaron rolled his eyes at Ed’s revelation and downed the rest of his drink, the amber liquid stinging his throat and invigorating him at the same time. “I got that impression when I spoke to her before. Just great!”
Ed turned to him and shrugged his shoulders. “I tried to get her to consider other options but she wouldn’t budge,” he took a swig from his glass and thought aloud. “Nice ass…and great tits…but stubborn as a rock.”
Aaron raised a disapproving eyebrow at Ed’s lascivious comment before he glanced across the room and noticed Jenny was now fast asleep on the couch. “Sshhh,” he said, finger to his lips. “Quiet. She needs to rest.”
Lowering his voice, Aaron continued. “I know all about Raven. I met her before those two put the bag on me. She seemed to be a professional,” he grinned at his friend. “Even if she is a rock.”
The pair made their way across the room and sat in two leather recliners, their faces glowing red with the reflected flames of the fireplace. Aaron sipped his drink, then spoke. “I don’t understand why Raven won’t listen to reason. She must have seen the surveillance footage by now,” he said. “She must know Jenny’s a victim, not a suspect.”
Ed poured another large measure of Scotch into his glass and held out the bottle toward his friend. “Jesus Christ! Aaron,” he said, shooting back a sizable belt from his drink and trying to keep his voice down. “First the FBI and that Army prick, now some kind of hired mercenary, you two walked into a real shit-storm. There are a lot of people who would kill for this kind of technology.”
“You and I know that,” Aaron said, cocking his thumb toward the couch and its sleeping occupant. “But, she has no clue what these kind of people are really capable of. She thinks we can ‘all just get along’.”
The two glanced at Jenny’s blanket-covered form and Aaron unconsciously grinned at the sound of her gentle snoring as it floated across the room.
Ed took another belt of whiskey then held the glass up, carefully studying the firelight refracted through the eighty-proof liquid’s amber body. “All right Aaron, I have to ask you something but I don’t want to get my nose broken for doing it.”
Aaron raised an eyebrow at Ed’s lead-in. “What?”
“How far into this girl are you?”
Aaron cast an unreadable look at his friend. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. How far into this girl are you? What does she mean to you?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m just trying to help her.”
“Really. That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“That’s not what I see. I see you going to a lot of trouble for someone who’s supposedly a random stranger.”
Aaron gave a small chuckle. “You’re vision never was any good.”
“Bullshit! I’ve known you most of your life and I can see your feelings for this girl are more than you’re telling me.”
“So, now you’re clairvoyant?”
“No, and here’s where the broken nose comes in; When you look at her, I recognize that look. I’ve seen it before.”
“Really. When?”
Aaron thought about the comment for a split-second before turning back to his friend, understanding showing in his blazing eyes. “Don’t even go there.”
“I have to. It was when you looked at Heather.”
“Fuck you!” he glared at his frien
d. “I can’t believe you would say that. I can’t believe you would even think it. You of all people!”
“I’m sorry. But you have to admit you haven’t exactly been the picture of mental health lately.”
“I’m fine.”
Ed cocked an eyebrow. “Still having the nightmares?”
Aaron didn’t answer. The silence providing all the response the other man needed, he pressed on. “Still drinking more than three nights a week?
“So, what if I am?”
Ed looked his friend in the eye. “I rest my case.”
Aaron took another deep swig of his drink. “Bite me.”
“Screw the broken nose. You need to hear this…You’re hiding.”
Aaron’s eyes locked on Ed’s, the gaze punishing in its intensity. “Are you nuts?”
“No. You were the smartest, strongest, most emotionally together man I’d ever met. You had your shit in one sock. Now you spend your days buried in work and your nights drinking alone so you don’t have to face reality.”
Aaron’s face flushed a bright red. “You think I don’t face reality?”
He jumped to his feet then began pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. “How much more reality am I supposed to face?” he said, the words now coming in a staccato burst. “Dad’s gone and Mom’s a basket-case. Beth’s trying to cope with life in the dark…and Heather’s… Heather’s…”
Ed spoke softly. “You can say it. Heather’s…dead.”
Aaron’s hand tightened around his glass, fingers turning white with tension. Ed feared the tumbler might explode from the pressure.
Aaron drew a long breath and held it for several seconds before releasing it in stages, his anger visibly deflating before his friend’s eyes.
“Yes. Heather’s dead. Is that what you wanted to hear? She’s dead and it’s my fault.”
“No. It wasn’t. It was a stupid kid’s fault.”
Silence filled the dark room for a moment before Ed continued. “What could have you done to prevent it?”
Aaron glared at him in forced silence.
“You have to stop blaming yourself. It’s killing you.”
“What are you now, my shrink?” Aaron barked, then slammed another shot of whiskey.
“No. I’m just a guy who knows you, probably better than anyone else.”
“You don’t know shit.” He said acidly.
“I think you’re attracted to this doctor, or at least you want to be, and that makes you feel like you’re betraying Heather.”
“Enough!” Aaron snapped, turning his back on his friend.
“Admit it. You like her,” Ed challenged. “Hell, I’ve known her for all of five minutes and I like her. She’s pretty, she’s smart. She’s a PhD. for cryin’ out loud, what’s not to like?”
“You’re determined to get that broken nose, aren’t you?”
“You know I’m right.”
“I said that’s enough, please.”
“You know what I think?”
“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me…whether I want to hear it or not.” he said.
“Heather loved you. I think she’d be pretty pissed if she saw how you’ve been acting. Do you think she’d be happy to know that you’d buried yourself along with her?”
A thick silence permeated the room for almost a full minute before either man spoke.
“Look Aaron, I was there…standing right next to you...at the funeral. When they lowered her into the ground I saw you climb in with her. I feel like I lost two people that day.”
“Just stop!” Aaron said, his ragged voice filling the room. “Everybody tells you to ‘get on with your life’. Well, it’s just not that simple.”
“I never said it was simple, but it is necessary.”
“Can we just stay focused on the immediate problem, please?” Aaron said, indicating the sleeping doctor with a nod of his head. “We have to get her someplace safe.”
Having said his piece and mercifully spared his proboscis, Ed upended his glass and poured his fourth. “She needs us. That much is clear. Problem with this mission bro, is that you two aren’t any safer here than you are out there. That Fed is smart. She didn’t come here by accident and if she can find you, those goons can too. You can bet on it.”
Absently swirling his fifth drink in small revolutions, Aaron watched the liquor circle the glass, contemplating their situation for long moments.
“Christ Aaron, why does this shit always happen to you?” Ed asked rhetorically.
“Just lucky I guess,” he flipped his head back and emptied his drink again. He reached out his glass toward Ed. “Hit me.”
Ed gave him a questioning stare.
He repeated his demand. “Hit me.”
“Okay. I ain’t your Papa.” Ed filled the glass.
"Chain Reaction" Power Failure Book I Page 55
