The Missing Piece in Ranger's Life
oOoOo
Chapter 1
Ranger POV
It often takes something drastic and extreme to give you clarity and appreciate what you have, what you have achieved and what you have become. But, ironically, it shakes you to the core, making you realise those things don't matter. Material things are unimportant when you consider what you really want, what you need, that important aspect that makes you feel whole … that special element that makes you complete … simply, that there is a missing piece.
I am grateful for the opportunities I have been given and the choices I have made. I chose a path, a better path, and focused on my direction, and built up my skills, aspiring to be the Best of the Best. It gave me purpose. No regrets. But to be honest, really honest, I know that I am missing that special something, that someone special, who accepts me as I am and doesn't try to change me. She has brought a smile to my face so many times, bringing light to my dark side.
Knowing this was my last and absolute final mission, I wouldn't allow those thoughts to distract me. Such distracting thoughts get you very dead. Besides, being the lead on this team, I was making sure that every man would get home.
I knew things were off with the Intel as soon as we were dropped into a different destination in the dead of night. The location had suddenly been altered and the details, which were to be critical to our survival were lacking, by omission it seems, not having been updated. The pilot argued these were his explicit and final instructions. Usually I get a chance to review the Intel, but sometimes the urgency overrides that necessity and we have to trust that the research has been thoroughly checked. I like to know what I am leaping into, literally, and most of all, physically. It felt off from the get go. Looking at my team, we were experienced and had worked together many times so we knew we had each other's backs. This was not our first rodeo, nor was it the first time things had been changed. It happens. We adapt, and modify our plans and strategies, then move forward. We deal.
It was supposed to be an easy in and out extraction. However, from the outset, alarm bells and red flags were waving wildly. From the wrong drop zone area, then to find that the location of the target was wrong. Consequently, we were on high alert from the get go. We encountered a number of booby traps and that was enough to further convince us. Not that we needed convincing, it was just further confirmation. We all felt it. We rallied and made an alternative action plan, quickly relocating to avoid any chance of an ambush, taking a completely different route than what might have been expected. Someone must have inside information because nothing was as it should be. Subsequently, I deliberately missed the scheduled contact times, and, as a result, we missed the designated extraction point. Considering the imminent danger which we were now in, it was agreed not to make any contact since it was highly likely that it would compromise our safety and reveal our position.
I knew Tank would work it out from his end. This was not the first time this sort of shit has ever happened, so we had a contingency plan. Risking making contact was out of the question. Survival was our key and we were seasoned Rangers. We specialised in these kinds of ops, and we were very resourceful.
What should have been a 3 to 4 week mission, at the most six weeks, lasted over four months. Choosing to move at early dawn and dusk, resting during the humid heat of the day, and only sometimes trekking our way at night, using the light of the full moon and the gibbous moon if the sky was clear, which enabled us to conserve our energy. Before dawn and after dusk were our best options. We knew what was edible in this hostile environment to add to our dwindling rations, and what to avoid. Fortunately, obtaining fresh water was not a problem with the frequent tropical downpours.
We did a lot of thorough reconnaissance and eventually were able to locate our heavily guarded target. Deliberately, we chose to come from a different approach, one that wouldn't be expected considering the direction of our initial drop off point in relation to the target. But, once again, we observed this supposed location with suspicion, from many different aspects.
We weren't fooled by the previous site. It was a false lead, because, after much surveillance, we realised that it was a ruse, a veritable baited trap. Being able to keep our movements undetected was critical. If we had stormed in to that trap it would have revealed our movements and location. And, we'd probably be very dead. However, we had already encountered many other deceptive false trails and traps. We had taken out a few insurgents along the way, three sorties so far, sloppy at best. Another group we conveniently discovered while under the cover of darkness, and made quick work of annihilating them, without a word being uttered, leaving no evidence of their presence, nor ours, using the deep jungle undergrowth and thick leaf litter, to our advantage to cover the evidence and our tracks. So that was four sorties that we had encountered and decimated. They seemed to be freelancing since we found no communication devices, which was a bonus for us, so there seemed to be no reporting to a central command. We wasted no time with interrogations. The jaguars and other predators would appreciate us for leaving tasty morsels behind.
So much for the Intel. Someone was playing power games. Someone high up on the inside, did not have our backs. That particular someone had gone to great lengths to set us up. Someone, had an agenda, and we were mere pawns in this game they seemed to be playing. I don't like being made out to be a pawn and my team concurred. I am no man's pawn or puppet. None of us is. Moving on, we agreed to ignore those facts and not dwell on them, but focus on getting the target and getting home. Getting angry was a waste of time and energy. With a new mindset, we forged onwards. The target was legit, that at least I was able to confirm before our departure.
Using the cover of darkness to our advantage, while the guards were indulging in their rum, Thiago had approached the boundary and overheard them talking about us, and how they were expecting us. They declared rather confidently that we would be so easy to ambush and laughed at how stupid we would look. They were well informed, it appears, knowing precisely how many of us to expect and the extra bonus of a bounty on each of us made them greedy and careless. All the waiting had made them idle and complacent. They were too cocky for their own good. Apparently, my name was bandied around as the most desired bounty. Their cocky banter and one-upmanship of who was going to win the prized bounty made them argumentative and loud. That further confirmed there was corruption high up and our mission was deemed to fail. Someone wanted to get rid of me while on a mission under the guise of being MIA, or worse, and my team was just collateral damage.
Miguel had used a tiny drone to give us the full picture, showing us how many guards and the exit points. We knew this site was the authentic one. With the extra security they seemed to have, it was the confirmation we sought. Surveillance was essential to get a sense of their movements and routines, and confirm the guard rotations. We had waited this long, so we bided our time. We were patient, and diligent.
Stealth was our best tactic. We waited for our perfect wave. The timing was crucial. It all went like clockwork. The guards were decimated and hidden inside the hut where we discovered the target bound and drugged. Making sure to confirm his identity, it was obvious that he had been tortured. Being drugged made it easier to extract him with minimal noise and explanation. We were tempted to set fire to this compound but decided to retain our cover and move by stealth. Leaving no evidence of our presence, except the dead bodies, before we stole away into the night and merged into the jungle.
After another week, we made our way to an alternate extraction point and waited. We thoroughly checked our target for any bugs or trackers, finding a subcutaneous tracker in his arm, which we promptly removed, quickly disabling it. Miguel caught a curious cotton-top tamarin, luring it with some tropical fruit, and attached it lightly to his furry cotton-top. It scampered away after quickly snatching some extra fruit, just a little bit perturbed by this strange encounter, but regained its confidence as another tamarin had eyes on his fruity trophy. Happily, they distanced themselves from us following the direction of the rest of the fruit being tossed away, so we could relocate to a safer position.
During this time our target was more than eager to make his escape and obeyed our every command. He was very distressed and traumatised, but so relieved to be free from the insurgents. Rex tended to his wounds and gave him pain killers and antibiotics to improve his recovery. Since he was very weak and dehydrated, we had to carry him, taking turns to share the load. Leaving nothing in our wake, no tracks, no evidence of our presence, we reached our destination in the midst of another heavy tropical downpour, using the opportunity to refill our water flasks, as we did each time in this dense jungle. Covering ourselves with mud kept the mosquitoes and midges at bay, as well as changing our scent to any predators. We took shifts in patrolling our hide and waited, using the time productively and keeping alert. We weren't home and hosed yet.
It was on the third day here that the signal came in. I waited the designated time and confirmed, recognising the counter signal. We still didn't fully trust our Intel and were particularly vigilant with reaching the chopper. As Rex ran in front of me, while I brought up the rear, he was shot in the leg. I saw that Miguel, Thiago and the target had made it aboard. I rushed forward and scooped Rex up in my stride and made for the chopper under heavy fire. Leave no man behind, that was the Ranger's creed. Seeing that my old army buddy Pedro was our pilot renewed my faith and confidence in this extraction. Tank had come good.
As soon as Rex and I were hustled aboard, we were off, having destroyed that hunting party with our own return fire. Rex was sedated while Javier, the medic on board, stemmed the blood flow and tended to his serious wounds. Miguel had escaped a serious injury with only his ear bleeding from a close encounter with a bullet that grazed his head. His ear was ringing but at least he hadn't lost his head, he joked. Head wounds bleed a lot. Thiago had been shot in the arm, luckily his left arm, but there was a lot of blood loss. He was strapped up quickly. Javier then spotted my shoulder wound, a through and through, luckily. Just a flesh wound. He ignored my dismissive response and cleaned up the wound, strapping my shoulder securely. We assisted with onboard triage allowing Javier, to deal with Rex's more serious injury.
However, our target, Bernie, was totally freaking out. Obviously, he had already been so traumatised with being captured and tortured but the experience of running to the chopper under heavy fire and seeing us take injuries spun him out so much that he was hyperventilating. The sight of blood was making him nauseous and he looked like he was ready to barf. We dealt with Rex which allowed Javier to sedate Bernie and intercept any further breakdown or, what we feared most, a heart attack. His age, lack of strength or fitness, and poor resilience were factors that gave us cause for concern. Javier must have done a psychology major. He was good, really good. Now we could get on with what we usually do without worrying about Bernie hearing things he was not privy to. He was the victim after all.
As the chopper flew low over the jungle canopy, we used the time to scrutinise and analyse this mission, discussing where the flaws and potholes in our mission were, or could be, comparing the transfer of information process. It was obvious that someone had deliberately set us up, which was unanimously agreed upon. Rather than bitching and whining about it, we moved on to the next phase, making it home safely, by alternative means. We shared our concerns and checked on our serious patients. Rex was in Happyland with a sloppy grin on his face. He didn't want to be fully sedated. Bernie was out cold, sleeping peacefully and totally wiped out.
Pedro gave me the details for the new destination, maintaining radio silence until we were safely in neutral territory. Seeing that airstrip was a welcome relief. Wasting no time, we boarded our escape flight with some supplies, all under the cover of darkness. We moved stealthily staying away from the well lit areas, following Pedro closely. It took two trips to empty the chopper of any evidence of our presence. We'd already cleaned up the blood and any spillage while en route to this airstrip. It's a familiar routine. The aim was to leave minimal, if any, evidence.
While on our next flight northwards, we all used the time to reflect and rest, re-hydrating, recouping our energy and making up for the lack of sleep. Watching Rex, who was the most seriously injured, made me think of another likewise named Rex, a furry little critter, and the blue-eyed beauty who loved him so dearly. I knew I could relax my guard a bit, for now, but I was still on edge. We were not home yet.
oOo
TBC
My inspiration came from a song I heard on my car radio and it kept haunting me. Then I realised it would be an ideal Ranger-Stephanie story. The song, by Vance Joy, is called "Missing Piece".
I had initially planned to make this a one shot, or two chapters perhaps. It is now a multi chapter story. My Muse wanted to play some more.
I will be posting once a week.
