"We need cover." Sonny peered at the fiery horizon while the sound of Clay's labored breath resounded in his ear. "Now."
They both studied the surroundings until Clay's trembling finger pointed at a ruined barrack. "There..."
Sonny moved forward, sustaining his friend's weight as he limped over. When they reached their goal, Clay leaned on the stone wall with a shaky hold on his gun. Sonny nodded at him and advanced alone, finger on the trigger.
As no more than dirt and old junk welcomed him inside the barrack, Sonny immediately sneaked his head out. "All clear, C'mon," he said, putting his body under Clay's arm to help him in.
. . . Savoring the salty ocean breeze, a strong sensation of déjà-vu stunned Clay for a moment. He blinked, searching through the crowd. All around him were clean and shaven frogmen, all familiar faces that he couldn't clearly identify.
Clay moved a step toward the bar's counter. The sand massaged his bare feet, and chats and laughs echoed in the distance while a comforting peace hovered in the air.
"You weren't supposed to be here so soon, brother."
Squinting, Clay turned to the voice. "Brian?"
Brian smirked. "Who did you expect, the tooth fairy?"
Sudden cold crossed Clay's body, making him turn back to see where it came from. . . .
"Hey, no. No! Stay with me, Clay!" Sonny gently slapped his brother's cheek. "Look at me, Buddy, C'mon."
Dry air and sand grains scratched Sonny's throat while sweat stained his shirt. He glanced at his canteen and grimaced; it would probably take a while before their team would come to the rescue, so they had to ration the little water remaining.
Eyes fixed at some point in the void, Clay's body quivered under Sonny's hold.
"This ain't good. Ain't good at all," Sonny muttered to himself while searching the refuge for something to cover Clay's body with.
Clay closed his eyes and whispered, "What am I doing here?"
. . . "You tell me," Brian said, offering Clay a cold beer.
The unique smell of the ocean tickled Clay's nostrils while he sat on the sand.
"So?" Brian wore a solemn expression. "Why are you here, Clay?"
Clay blinked at the bright sunlight hurting his eyes. "I think the water's calling for me."
A wide smile cracked Brian's face. "What are we waiting for, then?"
—Clay!— A familiar voice claimed Clay's attention. He turned but couldn't see where it came from.
"Are you coming or what?" Brian called, already shirtless. He tilted his head. "Do you have some better place to be?"
—Clay!— Again, that voice resounded.
Clay wavered. "Sonny?" . . .
"I'm here, Buddy." Sonny took Clay's cold hand. "C'mon, it ain't time for a nap."
Clay's eyes fluttered. "You comin' to swim with us?"
Sonny's eyebrows scrunched together. "What are you talking about? There's nothing but sand for miles."
Sweat dripped from Clay's forehead while his eyes frantically searched the room. "Where did he..." he said between chattering teeth, "where..."
"It's okay, Clay. It's just the two of us. We're safe." Sonny adjusted the dirty cover on his mate's body. "Keep fighting, the guys are coming for us." He glanced at Clay's reddened arm, the improvised tourniquet hasn't had the hoped effect.
Clay nodded, licking his chapped lips.
. . . Iced beer refreshed Clay's throat while the sun pleasantly caressed his skin.
Water up to mid-tight high, Brian looked back at him. "What are you waiting for, a formal invitation?"
Clay sat on the sand, cool waves tingling his feet. That call was so tempting, but the sensation he forgot something—something important—held him back.
Brian grinned. "You afraid of the water now?"
Clay jumped up, but taking his shirt off caused a sudden sting in his arm. He felt on the quicksand.
"What do you think you're doing here, slackers?"
When the known voice called him back, Clay was taken aback by the sight.
"Adam?" . . .
Sonny's blood ran cold. "Hey, no. C'mon, Buddy, look at me. Stay with me." He knelt by Clay; the look of concern met puzzled eyes. "Do you know where we are?"
Clay stared mouth gaped.
"Talk to me, Clay!"
"Morocco?"
"That's right."
"We—we pulled the short straw..."
"Yeah. Yeah, we did, Buddy." Sonny settled near his friend, a bitter smile on his face. "I wish that Hakrim had cats instead."
"Or hamsters…" Clay muttered, his eyelids fighting with gravity.
"Furry rats? You know that those things bite too, right?"
"But... without v—ve—venom..." Clay's eyes slowly closed again, and his body fell at his side with his head leaning on Sonny's shoulder.
"Stay here, Clay!"
. . . "Why are you here?"
Clay's eyes adjusted to the plain sunlight; it was Adam, and at his back, was the obstacle course.
"Are you trying to dodge the fight?"
Clay grinned. "Never!" His eyes matched his instructor's until Brian attracted his attention.
"Race you to the top?" Brian smirked, one hand on the rope that would help him climb the wooden wall.
"In or out, Clay." Adam scanned him. "Sure you wanna be here?"
"Where else should I be?"
There was a flash of light, and an explosion sounded in the air.
"Watch out!" Adam pulled him.
The camp was gone, and… Mumbai's streets? Clay froze, his hands started shaking. That place, that time… Adam would…
"Stay put." Adam lifted a hand mid-air. "Listen." . . .
"What should I hear?" Clay shaky fingers tightened on his gun.
"Shh, someone's approaching," Sonny whispered, rushing to the opposite side of their refuge with his rifle pointed at the door.
Footstep approached, echoed by the pounds of Sonny's heart. His finger firmly on the trigger, he held his breath. Two people passed by and went away, unaware of the two SEALs' presence. Sonny leaned back against the cold wall, exhaling loudly, but his relief didn't last long. Before his tired eyes there was Clay's pale face.
"Let me take this." Sonny removed the gun from Clay's cold and weak grab, then reached his radio. "Bravo One, this is Three, we're running out of time."
. . . "Let's go," Adam ordered, securing his chest plate and helmet lace.
Sounds of combat in the distance, Clay hesitated, glancing back. "But the guys—"
"You don't need to worry about them." Adam smiled fondly. "Bravo Team is fine."
"How do you know?"
Adam snorted. "That's the advantage of living around here."
"Around… where?" Clay's eyes wandered. Air moved his golden locks, and his chest expanded without the tightness of the bulletproof vest. What a minute ago was a dirty street now was a wooden floor.
"Can't you really see it, Spenser?" Adam's voice became distant.
A sharpening pain in the arm distracted Clay. When he turned back, Adam was lost in the multitude of uniformed ghost. . . .
"Wait..." Clay muttered. "Don't leave me..."
"I'm right here, Buddy. Not going anywhere." His forehead was as hot as hell flames; Sonny thoughtfully dried it.
Clay laboriously swallowed, his wheezing ricocheting on the stark stone walls. "Are the... guys... he— here... with— with... you?" Clay's eyes wandered aimlessly, than slowly closed.
"Hang on, brother,. Help's on his way." Sonny searched for Clay's canteen. Empty. He looked down at his shaking brother, then reached out for the water he had stored for himself. As soon as the cool container touched Clay's chapped lips, he opened his mouth like a featherless bird and welcomed the last drops of liquid.
. . . A bottle of fresh water appeared in front of Clay's eyes, delivered by a black, tapered hand.
"Nice place." The sweet sound of a woman's voice made its way through the chattering of the crowd. Clay's eyes followed the slim arm up to Ambassador Marsden's smiling face.
"Thanks for welcoming me here."
Clay swallowed uneasily. "Of course, Ma'am."
"Very nice. Not as I imagined, but still nice."
"Ambassador, I'm so—"
"It's alright, Clay." She beamed kindly. "Your contribution had been important."
Clay quivered, his throat closed.
"Are you here to stay?"
"Ma'am?"
"I thought you wanted to fight. To play it right." She peered at him fondly. "To change the world." . . .
"I'm doing my best…"
Sonny placed a hand on Clay's chest. "I know, you just hang on a little longer."
In an unexpected finding of energies, Clay grabbed Sonny by the scruff of the neck. Eye to eye with his brother, Clay's lips moved, but Sonny could hear no sound coming from them.
"Bravo Three, this is One." The radio sounded, but Sonny could not respond, still engaged as he was in sustaining Clay's distressed look.
Horror took hold of Sonny's mind as Clay's body fell helpless into his arms. He gently accompanied him to lay back on the dusty floor, immediately searching for a pulse. "C'mon, Clay!"
"Sonny, do you copy?"
. . . "I think someone is waiting for you on the other side, Pal."
Clay turned to the man with red hair sat at the bar's counter. "Swanny? What are you doing here?"
"I was about to ask you the same question."
"I'm just hanging out with my brothers." Clay warily looked around. "I mean... I guess..."
"Try again, Clay." Swanny got up from the stool and made his way to him through the undefined crowd. "What are you really doing here?"
"What do you mean? I'm—" Clay made a step back while cold crossed his body. "Wait, where did everyone go?"
"Why don't you answer me?" Swanny insisted.
"Why do you all keep asking me the same question?" . . .
Sonny put his radio down and approached the door, embracing his rifle. With one eye to his ghost-white brother laid on the dirt, he cracked the door open for a few inches and peaked out. The strong sunlight hurt his eyes while out there an unreal stillness hovered. In the barrack, Clay's heavy panting echoed.
Until they just didn't anymore.
Sonny's heart stopped along with that sound. He turned in slow motion, but with the tail of his eye, he spotted a sparkle out there in the distance. His finger shifted on the trigger. Friends, or enemies?
In no time, Bravo rushed in, Trent first.
. . . "I thought you young smartass always had a ready answer." Swanny smirked.
Clay's head felt light, the floor unsteady. "What was the question again?"
Swanny put a hand on Clay's shoulder and peered straight at his eyes. "Why are you here, Pal?"
In his friend's blue eyes, Clay saw the film of his last action. In one instant, he was geared up in Morocco's streets. Jason gave him and Sonny the order. They separated from the team, irrupted in a house, take out three hostiles. The fourth was in Clay's sights, but a sting in his arm blocked him. He heard Sonny shooting. Then all went cloudy. . . .
Entering, Trent's shoulder grazed Sonny's, his focus solely on Clay. "How long has he been like this?"
Too long. Sonny's lips pursed, his mouth was dry. Sweat dripped down his temple while Trent skillfully fiddled with syringe and healing vial. A stinging pain in Sonny's own leg underlined Trent's shot in Clay's thigh muscle.
No one dared to move while the silence resounded heavy. Trent nailed his eyes on Clay's ghostly face; Ray's lips moved in silent prayers; Jason wasn't even breathing; Brock, on guard at the door, couldn't hold back and glanced inside. Hands clenched in fists, Sonny could almost number the five heartbeats in the room.
. . . Voices ricocheted deep on Clay's chest walls. "What's that?"
Ambassador Madsen beamed. "It's the world claiming back a valuable asset."
"Your team needs you." Brian nodded. "They had chosen you and they want you back now."
"They do?"
"Can't you hear their calls?" Adam said. "Come on, I taught you better than ignoring orders."
"What are you waiting for, Pal?" Swanny's look reached Clay's soul.
Clay's head was spinning, but something anchored him to that wooden floor. "I can't just leave you here."
"Leave us?" Brian snorted. "We're not the ones you should worry about. We're good now."
Adam patted Clay on the shoulder. "We'll never leave you for real, Kid."
—Clay!—
"This is not your time…" Swanny's voice faded.
The door opened. An intense light came in. . . .
Clay's eyes popped open, his loud gasp resounded, echoed by his brother's sighs.
"Easy, Clay. Easy." With a hand on Clay's chest, Trent moved his finger in front of his teammate's face.
Sonny stared at Clay's disoriented expression while his heartbeat slowly steadied.
"Guys." Brock drew their attention. "We'll have company soon."
Jason embraced his rifle, glancing first out the door then back at his injured man at the corner of the barrack. "Can he walk?"
"He can try." Trent reached his hand out to the still stunned Clay, who confirmed to not be stable on his feet.
Sonny stepped in, and the two of them got out just the same way they got in a couple hours prior.
Clay blinked at the sunlight investing him.
—Keep moving— The known voice made him narrow his eyes.
Bravo advanced. Brock and Ray opened the line; Clay, sustained by Sonny, followed, while Jason and Trent made the rearguard.
Shots resounded. Clay's hand reached for his thigh holster; the gun wasn't there. Dust raised, and breathing was hard and seeing challenging.
—Spenser! At your nine!—
Clay pushed Sonny away just before a bullet grazed their heads. Jason promptly gunned out the shooter, and the whole Bravo jumped in the exfil van.
"Good save, brotha," Sonny said, gratitude shining through his eyes.
Clay nodded while heavily breathing through his mouth. It was not me. He peered at the clear sky through the car window and said instead, "You ever wondered what's on the other side?"
Author's note: Thank you for reading.
The format I used here is a bit different from what's usual for me, but it helped me in my attempt to mix up Clay's perception of reality during the hallucinations caused by the snake venom with Sonny's point of view of what was actually happening in the real world. At the end, reality and dream definitively collide as Clay, supposedly out of his hallucinating state, hear Adam's voice anyway.
I leave you the choice if to believe it was actually the intervention of a friendly ghost or just Clay's subconscious, which Clay's still clouded mind molded in his lost mentor's voice.