"I don't like this Jay." Ray was sprawled on his stomach in a steady rain next to Jason. Both used night-vision binoculars to watch activity in the village below….there was none. "Don't like it at all."
Referring to it as a village was stretching the definition: The outskirts of the city Ajloun was maybe ten miles or so away, but this, uh, village was five dirt streets, several 'houses', that was it.
"You think I do?"
You agreed to it, tickled Ray's tongue, but no, he didn't say it. "Country is too populated. People everywhere. The hell are we doing in the countryside of Ajloun?"
"Escorting an apparently unwilling CIA asset out of his cozy, secure home."
"It shouldn't be taking this long." Ray complained. "Mandy didn't have complete info, we should have waited." They had waited, and waited and waited – the weather, Clay.
"HAVOC still has visual on him." Jason adjusted his focus. He wanted to be with Clay, have his back, but the fewer armed military men in the house the better, and Trent was who Clay would need, anything went wrong.
No one was happy with the plan that had been settled on, but it was the one they were doing. Jason was tired of waiting, he wanted Atwal in their custody and he wanted out of this country.
"I get why Clay had to go into the village, he's the only one Atwal can communicate with, but why are we here and not at his back?"
"You, because you have the best shot, sniper Perry." Jason teased. "Trent's with him because if he's going to need anyone, it's going to be Trent."
"Yeah, yeah." Still, Ray thought Jason should be with Clay and Trent, just 'cause, he was, well - Jason. "Still think a team of four should have gone in. Not a team of two. Don't like it."
"Yeah, I get that." Jason snapped. "You've made it clear."
"And yet, you don't listen."
Jason said nothing.
Brock and Sonny were perched nearby but further down the hill and off to the right, closer to the village.
"Beautiful countryside." Sonny mimicked sarcastically. "Awesome hiking trails, lush vegetation. Miz Ellis forgot to say; one road in, backed against a cliff, dense foliage and oh yeah, wet, squishy ground due to recent unusual heavy rainfall. No one said it was Monsoon season. Does Jordan have a Monsoon season? Does this fucking rain ever stop?"
"Davis and Blackburn have eyes on him. He's got a tracking device, he activated his beacon. We can all track him with a phone. Ray's within range, will shoot anything that moves. Support's on the other hill. We're good." Brock wondered if he sounded convincing, didn't think so because Cerberus was antsy, whined softly.
"Then what the hell's taking so long?"
Brock put a hand out to settle the dog, frowned. Cerb was rigid, but not attack-tense. Yes, that made sense to him, might not to anyone else, but he knew his dog and Cerb definitely sensed something was wrong somewhere.
"Something's not right." Brock said to Sonny. "You see anything?"
"You going on the advice of the dog?"
"Yes."
Sonny didn't argue, began a slowly, steady search of the surrounding hill, forest, countryside. If Brock said the dog was telling him something was off, he wasn't going to question it. Cerb's nose and ears had saved their lives multiple times. He might tease about the dog, but he would never dismiss any telltale sign Brock picked up from him – no matter how slight or seemingly ridiculous.
() () ()
Clay shifted impatiently, the hair on the back of his neck itched - the sense of forbidding doom? - and he was tired of arguing with Atwal. Hell, he was just tired. Doc had agreed to let him fly out after a week of being home on bed rest - which he'd spent at Brock's - and antibiotics but had strongly advised against it because he hadn't removed the stitches.
Apparently falling out of a hammock onto the steel floor of a military C-17 transport plane, loosened stitches and prevented the wound from healing in the normal amount of text-book stated 'specified time'.
There'd been a hold-up because Jason had insisted on taking their support team with them. No way, no how would he hear arguments about leaving them behind. When Mandy had objected, Jason had shut her down with a hand to her face. And boy, she had not liked that. The argument that had followed had caused Eric to get involved, who after some fast talking and foot stomping, gained approval for support to fly out with them.
Mandy had not been happy Eric had sided with Jason nor had she been thrilled such a large military unit would be landing in Jordan but Jason had said; 'too fucking bad, you don't like it, don't care'.
And then Trent hadn't been happy when Clay had agreed to the mission, had accused him of trying to make everyone happy but himself. Had threatened to have Doc revoke Clay's clearance to fly out. And as close as Trent and Doc were, no one doubted Doc wouldn't obey Trent's request.
That had upset Sonny and Brock until no one wanted to go.
Finally, fever kicked, Clay had medical clearance to fly, but not operate and they'd flown out with their full support team – Doc included. Then once they'd landed, they'd had to wait two days before running the op because of inclement weather, then for Doc to remove Clay's stitches.
But finally, here they were.
He'd tried to keep his discomfort to himself but that was impossible with both the dog who somehow sensed pain and feelings and a team with a medic who knew him a hell of a lot better than he'd thought they did. Jason had given him the option of remaining with Lisa and Eric; after all, they had brought an interpreter with them, but Clay really didn't want to be around Mandy.
No, he didn't know what sense any of that made. And dammit, he wanted whoever had taken Brock and used him to gain his teammate's cooperation just as badly as Bravo did. This was personal.
"CLAY!" Trent was impatient and anxious, he wanted to leave and was not happy with the delay. "Speed it up."
"Trying!" Clay retorted. "He's not exactly cooperating here Trent."
"Then stand aside and let me beat him into submission."
Ouch.
Atwal was willing to accept their escort and leave the village, but at a price and with stipulations and conditions. Bravo had come expecting to escort one able-bodied male out of the village, hiking in the dark over rough terrain to ground transport – all air transport grounded due to weather – roughly five miles away. Not take along a pregnant woman near her due date and a recalcitrant toddler who had yet to stop screaming bloody murder.
And Atwal flat out refused to leave without them.
"He wants his cat." Clay fiddled with his helmet. The chin strap felt too tight, the pads over his ears made them itch. Huh, was it hot in here? Or was it him?
"A what?"
They hadn't come prepared to carry anyone, had no litter and there was no way she'd be able to hike the distance in her condition. Trent's suggestion of leaving her behind to be retrieved later had been met with angry protests from Atwal followed by an outright-sit-right-down-on-the-floor-refusal-to-leave-at-all moment.
And now this.
Trent's request to knock him out and sling him over a shoulder was denied. Mandy afraid he wouldn't cooperate once in CIA custody. Blackburn's final word had been; only as a last resort. Trent was taking that as permission.
Sonny was going to have a fit when he saw her.
Atwal didn't trust them, was suspicious and spooked easily, only spoke with them because Clay was an American who came bearing both knowledge of the language and a code phrase from Atwal's American government contact. Trent now realized why Mandy had been adamant Brave be the team to escort Atwal. Code phrase or not, it was extremely doubtful Atwal would've trusted an interpreter and he would have up and disappeared. Likely never to be found again.
"Shut that brat up!" Trent hissed to the mother. "Clay!"
Clay translated, explaining that they couldn't call attention to the fact armed American Military were in the home. She tried shushing and calming the child, but had no success.
"I'm gonna dose it with Benadryl." Trent threatened, irritation inching up a notch. He didn't give a damn about the sensitivities or the feelings of Atwal, his wife or the child. His worry was the time they were wasting. He would pull the seniority card, carry Atwal and order Clay to leave the family behind if that kid didn't stop its caterwauling in the next thirty seconds.
The home was small, one story and dark, the only light cast by a weak lantern here and there. Trent didn't like it here. They were exposed and though Bravo and support were nearby and HAVOC had visual on them, if they were ambushed, he and Clay would have to take cover and hold off any attackers until help could arrive.
Yes, it would be instantaneous with Ray high, he didn't miss and Bravo and support would be there within 30 seconds, but still…..he didn't like those odds. Clay wasn't fit and fine. Had been, well, ill. Kinda, sorta, in a way, still was. The stitches out just a day and he hadn't eaten good or slept or exercised much in the last two weeks. He was okay, but not a hundred percent and Trent was torn – which accounted for his shitty mood and attitude – because while he wanted the information Atwal allegedly had, he did not want Clay here.
It would be different if this was a military op where lives depended on them being here, but it wasn't. Anyone could have done this job and because of it, Mandy had managed to divide the team – not against each other, but between their desire to find the men responsible for the abduction of Brock and Clay and, well, Clay.
Any other mission, Clay would be home, no medical clearance to operate, but….but what? They couldn't pick and choose their missions based on their feelings for Clay.
Trent sighed, took a deep breath, moved beyond.
This was no village. It was a strong-hold, a hide-out and if people in the other houses were to wake up and discover American military men in their midst, there would be a gun fight and no one wanted that. Trent was under orders to avoid it.
The mother spoke rapidly. Trent waited, wondered how Clay, though fluent in the language but not native to it, could keep up and understand a word she was saying.
Frustrated, Clay translated. "He wants his blue bunny."
Trent huffed and proceeded to trash the house. A blue bunny had to be a toy, probably a stuffed one. The cat though, was real. And he couldn't that find either.
This, of course, upset Atwal's wife and she followed him throughout the house, clutching at his arm, squawking in outrage as she picked up discarded and flung-aside items, hugged them to her chest then dropped them to retrieve the next tossed object all the while trying to set knick-knacks and dishes back in their rightful place, close drawers and fasten doors to cabinets.
So help him God, Trent was going to strangle Mandy with her fancy, decorative, useless scarf. She should have had intel on a pregnant wife and noisy brat, ehrm,child.
"CLAY!" Trent finally roared, picked the wife up by her shoulders, set her firmly down away from him, kept her at arms length. "Tell her to knock it the fuck off! She's never coming back to this house! It doesn't matter what gets broken!"
Clay translated and that set her off all over again. She abandoned her pursuit of Trent and went after her husband, wailing louder than the child. Atwal, unlike Trent, did not tolerate his wife coming at him, slapped her across the face. She hit the floor, he hit the wall because Clay threw him into it with a tongue-lashing.
Trent cursed, kicked an over-turned chair. What the hell else could go wrong?
She wasn't down and out for long, was up and darting around the house…doing something...what...oh, packing...packing? Oh hell no!
"Clay, tell him he has two minutes to find the cat, the blue rabbit and whatever she can carry out on her back." Trent ordered. "I've had enough."
"Trent, come on man. You're tearing her away from everything she knows and owns."
"Her possessions for our lives? Yeah, not a trade I'm willing to make."
Clay glared, then translated to Atwal, who, after a moment, got up, retrieved an animal carrier, opened the door and set it near the front door. He then went into the bedroom and collected papers, money, other mementos, spoke to his wife and handed her a bag.
She looked at Clay in confusion and he had to tell her she couldn't take anything more than what fit in the bag her husband had handed her. She then began another tirade against her husband, who leery of both Trent and Clay, this time, simply walked away from her.
The child, scared and upset, traumatized by the invasion of strange men, the trashing of his house, his hysterical mother, chose that moment to run towards the back door.
Trent cursed, corralled the woman from giving chase. "CLAY! Get the kid! YOU..."
Clay lunged for the kid, came up short, chased him out the door. Trent stalked the man while dragging the wife, back against the wall. He was done, they were leaving.
"So, help me..."
Jason cackled in his ear, demanding to know what was taking so long. They'd been expected to leave the house a good ten minutes ago.
"Not now." Trent spat. God, he hoped everyone at HAVOC could hear him. He needed both hands to contain the two angry people in the house, he couldn't exactly carry on a cheery conversation with his boss. Cursing, he switched his comm unit to open.
"Bravo four," came Jason's authoritative tone. "Yeah, now."
Oh, so now Jason wanted to command him? Fine, FINE!
"He has a fucking pregnant wife JASON!" Trent exploded. "A three-year old brat that won't stop screaming. A cat he won't leave without. Have you ever tried to find a fucking cat? She's packing and if I can't find a fucking blue rabbit, I'm drugging the little shit. So yeah, how about NOT NOW?!"
() () ()
Eric, hovering over Lisa's shoulder, looked away from the computer screen; dared, along with Lisa, to take their eyes off the activity shown by ISR, leveled Mandy with looks of disgust and contempt.
"Did you know?" Lisa asked, eyes back on the monitor. "Tell me you didn't know and make me believe it."
"It was rumored he'd taken a wife, never confirmed."
"In three years?" Eric questioned. "You couldn't share that rumor?" Their visual was not clear, hampered by the rain, the buffeting drone, making both Lisa and Eric antsy and irritated.
"Miz Ellis." Sonny drawled. "I don't wanna be seeing you anytime soon." He was itching to head down the hill, enter the house, assist Trent, see Clay with his own two eyes but he needed permission from Jason to do so and as of yet, none had come.
Cerberus went on alert. His nose went in the air and he pawed the ground. No longer calmed by his human's touch, he nudged Brock with his nose, whined.
"What's with him?" Sonny asked.
Brock started to scan the area with his night vision binoculars. He didn't know, but something was out there.
"Sounds like utter chaos." Ray told Jason. They could hear arguing, screams, shouting over Trent's open mic. "Jay? Now? Now would be good."
"Bravo three, Bravo five, secure the house." Jason ordered. Dammit. He paused, then ordered Dutch, on the hill opposite Bravo, the village between them, to take his men and make their way down to assist however they could.
"WHOOP!" Sonny high-fived Brock who was subdued, his attention on the dog.
"Boss?" Brock keyed in. "Be advised, Cerberus is sensing...something."
"Explosives?" Jason questioned.
"Negative."
"Secure the house." Jason repeated. "Use caution."
() () ()
Clay was out the back door, across the sandy, rocky, dirt yard, cursing. How could such a small kid with short legs, run so fast? He wasn't concerned the kid would outrun him, it wasn't possible, but he was still screaming and would soon wake everyone up, if he already hadn't.
"Shit!" He lunged, grabbed the kid by his shirt, felt a pull in his side when the ground beneath his feet suddenly wasn't so firm anymore, shifting his weight sideways. "Shit." He felt the pull on his boots, looked down, sighed. Great, just his luck, he'd gone and stepped in quagmire. Who the hell would build a house so close to a bog?
"Bravo four?" Clay keyed in. "Got a situation out here."
"Bravo six, Support one. We have you in sight. Sit tight."
Jason had given support permission to descend from the hill? Huh. "Roger that."
Atwal who, involved with a hand-flinging, foot-stomping argument with his wife, never saw the slap Trent delivered that rocked him back onto his heels and left him on his ass, coming.
"How's that feel, you ass?"
() () ()
Sonny and Brock fluidly rose to their feet, and with a whistle to Cerberus, set off down the hill. Cerb off leash and ahead of the men who had to pick their way more carefully, stopped, sniffed the air, turned and ran back up the hill.
"He ever do that before?" Sonny came to a halt, asked.
"No." Brock knelt to give the dog attention, checked his paws. Soon as he straightened up, Cerberus barked once and started back up the hill. "Cerb, no. Find Clay."
"I'm thinking..." Sonny paused. "I...is the earth moving under my feet?"
Cerberus erupted into a barking frenzy. Brock looked up at the mountain, at Cerb dancing, then down at the mud beneath his feet.
"Oh that can't be good." Sometimes he felt Cerberus thought him dense, slow and stupid. "Good boy."
"What?" Sonny was impatient, wanted to go forward, cross the field and head down the hill to the village. He finally had the orders he wanted and he couldn't carry them out. He wanted to hit something. Fuck it, he started down the hill at a slow, steady pace and next thing he knew, a heavy thump landed on his back and he was eating mud.
Brock whistled the dog off but Cerb hadn't attacked, he'd just stopped Sonny's forward progress down the hill.
"THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOUR CRAZY DOG?" Sonny, sprawled on his stomach, spat mud, pushed up, paused. "Is...this...mud?" He looked down at a tug on his hands, he was sliding. He looked up the hill, looked down at the village. The very ground they were on was now slimy muck. "Brock? Was there a creek here five seconds ago? Am I moving? I'm moving! I don't want to move!"
He flailed, scrambled for his knees. Brock got a firm hold on Sonny's vest, dragged him backwards and with a loud, sucking, SQUELCH, the mud released its hold on Sonny and they both sprawled on firmer ground some several yards further down the hill from where Cerberus had knocked Sonny to the grass.
"THE FUCK IS THAT SHIT?" Sonny yelled. "JESUS CHRIST!" He panted. His breath had taken flight, must still be in the mud because it hit him just how close he'd been to stepping off firm ground into an unseen river of mud and muck and he couldn't draw in deep breaths. "Hey Cerb, atta boy. Thank you little dude." He buried his face against the thick, wet fur around Cerb's neck, gave his nose a loud, smacking kiss.
He wasn't all that concerned about the possible harm to himself. No, he was more worried, pissed that had he fallen into whatever the fuck that silent, but moving mush was, Bravo would have had to rescue him – if possible – and wouldn't have eyes on Clay.
"Buy you a steak." He told Cerberus, accepted Brock's hand, rose to his feet. "What the...hell is that?"
Cerberus took off at a run towards Jason and Ray.
Brock shoved Sonny. "LEFT! GO LEFT!" He yelled because Cerberus went left, and he trusted the dog to know the way to safety. And if he did, it was neither downhill nor across the field that, within two seconds was a slow-flowing river of mud that was fast gaining speed and volume.
Sunny didn't argue, took off at a run after Cerberus, Brock on his heels.
"What's that?" Ray raised his head from the bincoculars. He was on his belly, but Jason, who was standing on a rock, didn't feel the ground shimmy beneath him. "Jay? You feel that?"
Jason didn't, but swiveled his head to look in the direction Ray was staring. His binoculars easily picked up Sonny and Brock running parallel from their location towards them. He also noticed, bless night vision, how shadows quivered and shimmied and when he swung the binoculars up hill, saw the river of flowing mud.
River, because though not an actual river, there was no other word for the rush of water, mud, slime and muck.
"Fuck!" He jumped down, grabbed Ray by the collar on his coat, dragged him backwards. Ray clung to his gun, scrambled to gain his knees. He didn't see the falling mountain of mud, but he trusted his boss and went with him without protest.
Ray looked up, saw behind them, a rock cliff that Jason was heading towards. To the right, was a forest of trees and rocks that provided obstacles the river of mud and water split and went around, spreading out further than it would have had it been able to navigate downhill unimpeded.
"No." Ray said stupidly. "No."
"BOSS?!" yelled Sonny.
"WOOF!" Cerberus herded Sonny and Brock up and left and around to the firm rocky ground both Jason and Ray safely perched on. "WOOF!"
() () ()
Trent finally gained control of the chaotic activity in the house. He held the wife with a hand over her mouth, her head tilted back against his shoulder. Trent didn't have the time or the patience to be all nice and understanding. They had to go.
Atwal remained still and silent at Trent's defensive stance even though Trent held no weapon on either him or the wife.
The cat, as cats do, somehow materialized in his comfy carrier with a lazy yawn and smoldering stare. Atwal closed the door to the cage, picked it up, stood waiting at the door.
"…situation out here." Clay cackled in Trent's ear followed by Dutch. Trent wanted to howl in outrage, wanted to abandon Atwal and the wife and bolt out the door, but training and orders were strongly ingrained. He simply threw his hands up, grabbed Atwal by the shoulder and shoved him and the cat out the door, dragged the wife behind him.
Blackburn came across comms, reported that the surrounding land to the West had become unstable under heavy rains, was a mud bog, not safe to cross.
Ya think, Blackburn?
Trent lowered his night vision goggles. "CLAY?"
Members of support surrounded him. Trent let them take the wife, hesitated when asked if they should bound Atwal, saw Clay standing knee deep in mud that he wouldn't be able to get out of without help, one hand holding the kid, the other against his side, fighting to keep his feet, and nodded.
"Clay? You ok?" Trent asked. Including Dutch, support was a team of eight. Two secured Atwal, two assisted the wife, the other four joined Trent as they attempted to come up with a plan to extract Clay, who if he moved or tried to step out of it, sank deeper and was slowly moving away from the house with the current of the flowing mud.
"Good defense for the village." Someone commented.
"Long as it rains."
"Is it Spring over here?"
Holding the kid, kicking and screaming, tucked under one arm, Clay felt the earth beneath him slowly giving way. The GPS tracking device was his watch, had technology, the ability to transmit to all Bravo cell and satellite phones. The beacon would transmit his location for up to three hours. That too, could be tracked by all of Bravo.
He would have to trust they would find him.
"CLAY?! DAMN YOU! DON'T YOU DARE!" Trent yelled. "DO NOT THROW THAT KID!"
But he would and Trent knew it. Even as he said it, Clay juggled the kid around until he held him by the ankles, tossed him at Trent who caught him and promptly dropped him safely in the arms of Kenny, wanting to hold Clay, not the screaming little brat.
It was the last time Trent saw Clay.
He didn't sink, he didn't fall. No, a wall of water silently swept him away.
Trent stood, hands on his hips, looking at the river of water, mud, debris, slime…..shook his head. Someone was going to pay dearly for this.
No need to panic. Clay was an excellent swimmer. They'd pick him up down the hill a ways. Trent thought the same thing Clay had: He had both a tracking device and a beacon that was activated and both could be tracked by any member of Bravo with a cell or satellite phone. They would know where he was and simply just go get him.
Trent cast a glance at the sky. When was anything ever simple when it involved Clay?
***000***
The last thing Clay remembered was the taste of mud.
The next thing he remembered was pain.
Flesh-eating, breath-stealing, scream-inducing – pain.
He jerked awake, awash in agony. He flailed, striking out but he was uncoordinated and he'd either lost his breath or he'd used it all screaming because no matter how hard he panted, how many times he gasped, he could not breathe.
Voices buzzed and hummed but he couldn't make out words or whether whoever was speaking was male or female. Didn't matter because he didn't know where he was or what had happened. He swore his eyes were open, but the room – he thought it was a room – was too dim to make out objects. Shadows wavered and loomed and shrank, viewed through a red haze of pain and panic. Huh, maybe they weren't.
He tried to sit up, was either denied or he didn't have the strength to succeed. So he tried to roll but again, met with failure. He couldn't swing a fist - couldn't even make a fist - thought he could, did, but no. Couldn't pull his knees up or shift his weight or do anything to alleviate the searing fire that burned his side from his armpit to his hip.
He lingered between the state of not awake, not unconscious. Couldn't let go, couldn't pull himself out of it. His mind, his thoughts wandered, tried to recall how he had ended up in…..you know, Hell.
God, he was hot. Christ, he was burning up. Mother-humper his side was roasting…
Much like a TV from the 70's when the dot appeared in the middle of the screen and grew until the picture filled the screen when turned on and shrank from full screen to a dot when turned off; the red haze faded, blackness descended and gradually his vision was reduced to a single dot before it winked out completely.