Title: Back To Barak, Chapter Seven
Author: Rocketpowerpack
Rating: NC-17
Date: February 22, 2006
Archive: Not without Permission of the Author
Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX
Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its
production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was
written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There"
fans.
Summary: When Lieutenant Hunter volunteers the squad to infiltrate
and capture Iraqi insurgents, all hell breaks loose.
Warning: Be warned that this story does include depictions of war;
these depictions may describe consequential injuries and death, and
while not over graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort.
Please read at your own risk.
A/N reminder that this story takes place between Episode 12 "Suicide Rain" and Episode 13 "Follow the money"
In his dream he heard music; it was a familiar tune, but one that he simply could not place. The strangely haunting melody rocked him gently, like a small boat on an undulating stream and soothed him as he rode it back to the surface and back to consciousness. He opened his eyes slowly and took in the rough, wooden ceiling above him, the feeling of rough straw and hard earth beneath him and was momentarily disoriented. He heard the melody again and panicked, his heart pounding wildly in his chest as he realized where he was. It is just before sunrise and the music was the sound of the muezzin calling the people of Barak to Fajr, the Morning Prayer.
Realizing that he had fallen asleep and slept thru the night ,he attempted to lift his body from the hard bed of earth it had been lying on for the last ten hours. He felt rather warm and sweaty, and quite itchy, because some of the straw had gotten into his clothing, or more specifically in his Army-issue shorts. He scratched for several minutes and then without thinking, rolled over onto his left side; a sharp stabbing pain raced from his shoulder, along his spinal cord and burst in his brain momentarily blinding him, as a bright white light exploded behind his eyes. The pain made him cry out and laid him flat upon the ground once more.
He gave himself a few moments to recover, knowing he had to get up and find his way out of the shed without being seen. Panting gently, still stunned by the pain, he rolled to his right side facing the wall and managed to get up to his knees, then finally into a crouching position. It took several moments for him to get to his feet, as he fought a heavy wave of nausea, but he finally did so. He turned around and a harsh cry issued from his throat. He stumbled backward, slipping on the straw and landed on his ass on the hard ground. The momentum rocked his body backward, and caused him to bang the back of his head on the rough wooden wall.
In front of him stood a small boy perhaps ten years old with very dark curly hair and wide brown eyes; in his left hand he held the handle of a bucket that was filled with water, and in the crook of his right arm he held a small bowl half filled with corn. The little boy stared at him for several minutes in frank curiosity, and then smiled widely.
Before Dim could think
to respond, he heard a man's voice call out, "Dawud? Dawud!"
The pit of Dims stomach lurched, the wave of nausea returning and
a cold sweat
down ran down the middle of his back.
The little boy's head turned quickly in the direction of the man's voice then looked quickly back at Dim and saw the fear on his face. He placed a finger in front of his mouth and said "Shhh!" motioning with his hand, palm outward for Dim to remain where he was, and then smiled once more before turning to go. Dim watched as he placed the bucket on the ground, then sliped out of the little shed by turning sideways and twisting his body to slip past the "door" which was really a old rotting board, lying on an angle in front of the doorway, then reach back in for the bucket.
Dim heard the mans voice again and this time the child answered back eagerly; he quickly ran toward the cluster of small houses, the small flock of emaciated chickens clucking loudly behind him as he ran down the dirt path.
Captain Baron sat head in hand and massaged his forehead. "General, I understand completely, sir, but this is not what I was told by your people in battalion - No, sir and is not what I was told by Lieutenant Hunter." Baron sat at his makeshift desk, now covered with several maps and several thick files. One hand is holding the phone to his ear and the other hand begins to massage the rather large knot of tension that has gathered at the base of his head and neck." Yes. Yes, general, we are, sir, but I made a promise to those men- Yes, sir, thank you sir."
Frustrated he clicks off the phone and tosses it onto the table none to gently. "Fuck!" he shouted at the empty tent. "Corporal St. Claire!"
"Coming, Captain," St. Claire called from behind the command tent, where he had been sneaking a cigarette. Tossing down the half smoked cigarette, he gouged out a
depression in the dirt with his heel and pushed the butt into the depression, covering it with dirt, then walked back quickly, popping a lifesaver into his mouth just before entering the tent. "Yes, sir?" St. Claire asked.
"Corporal. I hate to ask this of you, son, but I am at my wits end, and I need some help here. Help that I generally would never ask for from any of my men if this were not a dire emergency. So. Do you still have an 'in' at battalian?"
"An 'in' sir?" St. Claire replied, pretending to be confused by the question.
"You know exactly what I mean, Corporal. You seem to pretty much know exactly what's coming on down the pike long before any one else does, myself included, and something tells me you're not psychic! I've noticed that you seem to be rather 'gifted' in obtaining the supplies we need even when I've been assured of there unavalaibility. You also seem to have luck in obtaining certain other, shall we say, luxury items?"
"Uh, yes, sir, but-"
"Now, just to warn you, Corporal? I've had just as much smoke blown up my ass as I'm going to take today, so don't bullshit me!" Baron snapped.
"N-no, sir."
"Good. Now, I ask again… do you still have an 'in' over at battalian?"
"Yes sir."
"And this 'in' would be in a position where he or she hears a lot of personnel chatter?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. I would appreciate it if you would make contact with his individual and find out anything you can about Lieutenant Hunter's last billet. I expect you to do this discretely, and not to repeat what you may find out to anyone else in this unit, or otherwise. I, of course, will also be discrete and not mention how and where I got any information. I will interced on your behalf should it become neccesary to do so. That seem fair to you, Corporal?"
The corporal seemed to visibly relax. "Yes, sir."
"Again, I'm sorry to ask this of you, but I have a feeling that somewhere, someone seems to think my men are expendable and I'm not sitting around with my thumb up my ass until that someone decides to clue me in."
"No, sir! I'll take action immediately, sir."
"Thank You; Oh, one last thing, Corporal? Colonel Ryan is on his way here with back-up needed to resolve this Barak nightmare. Please let me know as soon as he arrives." Baron stood up and walked to the tent entrance. " I'll be in my quarters. If you hear a loud noise, it's my head exploding!" Baron commented, making his exit.
It was just past sunrise and Rawhide One was readying themselves for a new day.
Silas had spoken briefly to each member of his squad, making sure everyone was okay, that everyone had had a chance for a quick round of shut-eye, reminded them to eat and stay hydrated. He'd attempted to approach Lieutenant Hunter but all he got was a pained look and a shake of his head that clearly said 'don't bother me '
so he didn't. Obviously Hunter blamed him for the mission being scrubbed, and that was just fine with him, he really didn't care. Now was not the time for debate or bullshit. After having the squad rotate positions and seeing everyone settled, he hunkered back down behind cover himself.
On the far right of Silas, Smoke reached into his pack and pulled out the one and only M.R.E he had left. "Chili and Macaroni, "He said with a face.
"I like the chili," Mrs. B replied from her position beside him.
"Yeah, but for breakfast? I don't think so." Smoke said shaking his head. "Damn! Where the hell the McDonalds at!"
"Wanna trade?" Mrs. B offered with a soft smile, reaching around in her own pack. "How's Beefsteak w/Mushrooms and Western Beans sound?" She asked reading the package before passing the M.R.E pouch over to Smoke, who looked at it hungrily, then handed her the one he'd discarded as not palatable for a morning meal. "Go ahead and eat, I'll cover this," she said, putting the MRE he'd given her, back in her pack for later on.
"Yeah? Thanks." Smoke starts to open the MRE pack and stops in mid action, looking at Brenda thoughtfully.
"What?" she asked.
You ain't that much of a bitch, ya know," Smoke commented."You're sorta nice."
"Don't go telling m' secrets!" she said giving him a warm smile and receiving an equally warm one in return.
A few feet away SSgt. Silas settles on his stomach next to Angel, trying to get comfortable. "You're relieved. Try to catch some shut-eye if you can. Gonna be another long day."
" SSgt, we just started…."
"You goddamned tossed and turned all fucking night and kept me and everyone else awake! Try to sleep. You're of no goddamn use to me half awake!"
Angel nodded but stayed where he was. His expression was troubled and Silas could see it. " You're blaming yourself and you shouldn't. There wasn't anything you could do. It could have been either one of you. You both knew the risk."
Angel nodded. "Sergeant? What's the chance of finding him still alive, or getting him out of there alive. I need to hear the truth. "
Silas cocked his head to the side. "Dim's a smart guy and I don't mean just the fact that he's educated, even though we all rag on him for that. There's a good chance that he's found a place to dig in until we can get to him. I mean, lying down on the ground and making believe you're a dead body is pretty sick but it's also pretty fuckin' smart."
Angel noticeably shook as a chill went up his spine." Man, like strait out of a Steven King novel." Angel was quiet for a few more moments before saying softly," You were friends with Sergeant Malatucci, weren't you sergeant?"
Silas turned his head and stared hard at the man beside him, but he saw the question wasn't about prying into his personal life, and it was Angel after all.
His stare softened.
"Yeah." He replied. " We knew each other when we first upped and then we were in Ranger school together; we got shipped over together, but I was sent on to another unit and he came here. I hadn't seen him in about ten months, before they sent me here." He moved his arm and watched as the displaced sand ran down the hill in tiny rivulets." His folks are good people; they have a small farm, a dairy farm, up in Schoharie; that's upstate New York.
"You been?" Angel asked surprised.
"Yeah. He was their only child. It's gonna be….." The look on Silas' face said what he couldn't utter out loud.
"Sergeant, I'm…I'm really sorry for your loss, sir."
Silas was silent for several minutes before saying, "Get some sleep, and try to eat something, too..…and don't call me 'sir'.
Angel nodded and began to lift himself up from the sand.
"Angel….."
Angel turned back around to see Silas blushing deeply.
"…Thanks." he said quickly and turned back towards his post, shaking his head as if doing so would erase his words and actions.
Lieutenant Hunter sat by himself, wearing a look on his face that matched that of a pouting child, and if anyone had remotely looked in his direction, they'd have seen him kick the small brush and the ALICE pack in front of him several times, clearly having the equivalent of a two year olds temper tantrum.
He stretched his long legs out before him and sat with his arms folded on his chest, playing over in his mind the way the mission was supposed to go down. He'd been close to tears when Baron informed him that the raid on Barak had been quashed; he'd even attempted to get his C.O to reconsider, but no, he was told. Those were his orders and they'd come from much higher up in the food chain then he did.
Higher up. He thought over that bit of information and visibly slumped, because he knew that the orders could only have come from General Downer, and he was now well and truly in the shit. Despite the fact that Downer had given him the mission, he knew the man hated him. The man insulted him at ever turn. In fact, the General's last comment to him, before sending him to his current assignment, was that despite all his education, he believed if Hunter were any stupider, he'd have to be watered twice a week!
In fact, the man was constantly telling him how stupid he was! Why just last Thanksgiving in the middle of dinner, he'd commented that he found it hard to believe he'd beat out 1,000,000 other sperm! Of course Downer's daughter had been mortified and came to his aid, but one would think that after ten years of marriage, his father-in-law would at least try to accept him!
He slumped down even further in the sand. He'd never hear the end of this one.
Facing the opposite way, weapon trained on the small sparse stands of brush, Esmerelda "doublewide" del Rio's lips were moving in a silent prayer.
Tariq had been watching out of the corner of his eye but didn't interrupt her. He lifted the packet of freeze dried coffee crystals to his lips and emptied it into his mouth, then stuck the empty packaging into his pack.
Doublewide's 'amen' was audible, but soft.
"Hey," Tariq says equally soft, "We're gonna get outta here okay? Don't worry."
"Huh?" the woman next to him asks.
'You were praying," Tariq said nodding his head towards her.
"I wasn't praying for us," she said sheepishly.
Nisseri laughs." Why? You don't think we need it?"
"I was praying for Dim." She said softly. " I figure wherever he is, he's out there alone, and maybe he's …well, at least we're all together, but maybe he's feeling scared and alone…I was just asking God to watch over him till we can get there."
Her Squad mate nodded. "yeah, it's a good thing to pray for. I got a good feeling about Dim, ya know? That he's okay I mean."
"Yeah, as long as he keeps his big mouth closed and doesn't correct the isurgents!"
Both laugh. "Yeah, he's a pain in the ass with that, but I have a feeling from something he told me once, that its just the way it was for him growing up,you know? I mean both of his parents are doctors, they're both extremely intelligent.
I have a feeling that he had to be smart just so they'd know he was even there." Tariq said.
Doublewide shook her head. " I don't ever want to do that to my kid," she commented. "Spooky can be what ever he wants to be, as long as he's happy."
"That's all I'd want for my kid." Nasseri replied. "Hey, by the way, what's Spooky's real name? "
"It's-"
A loud whistling sound filled the air.
"INCOMING! TAKE COVER!" Silas screamed.
