Chapter Three
John 'Soap' MacTavish trudged through the dense forest, thankful for the full moon that lit his path. Its bright light shone through the canopy of branches that held no leaves, for it was the beginning of winter here in the mountains of Saskatchewan, Canada. Abagail Williams had been taken by a group of highly trained men who had planned on taking her back to Russia in hopes that Peter Williams, her father, would do anything to get her back. General Williams is the United States' highest-ranking military officer and the principal military advisor to their president. Having gone through a hostage situation in the past, Abagail's father had moved quickly to set up the rescue team for his daughter.
Soap and Ghost had been personally requested, along with five Americans who'd all been incredibly green, barely out of basic training. When Soap and Ghost learned this, they'd exchanged a look with each other but never said anything more on the matter. For General Williams, this mission was critical; who were they to question the American's choices? But now, as only he and Ghost had survived, the question of why the Americans had sent those greenhorns on a critical mission ran through his mind. Had they been sent by mistake? Was the end goal that none of their group made it out alive, Soap and Ghost included? Was this rescue mission for Abagail Williams a cover for something else?
Soap spat on the ground as he peered around the forest. He was letting his anger get the best of him again as it had back at the house. He regretted how he'd handled the situation, scaring Abagail the way he did. Soap was glad she passed out while he'd thrown his tantrum. He sighed, just happy not to know what General Williams would have done if Abagail had been taken to Russia. Would he have met their demands to get his daughter back so what happened to his wife didn't happen to his only child?
Soap pulled out the handheld tracker from his pants pocket and eyed it quickly to ensure they were on the right track. Slipping it back inside, he was glad they were close to the get-a-way vehicle, for they'd been walking for over two hours on uneven ground. Soap was satisfied with the way it had turned out, with Ghost responsible for carrying her to the humvee, for he doubted he could have done it without complaining a little. Ghost, though, had stayed silent throughout their trip besides explaining a little about their mission and extraction without giving her too much of the gory details. Soap couldn't even hear Ghost breathing hard and shook his head smiling to himself, glad the two were behind him. The dedication of that man... Soap almost laughed.
A little while later, when the humvee came into view, Soap and Abagail sighed in relief simultaneously.
"I'll check it out," Soap said, turning around to look at the two.
Ghost nodded, giving him the go-ahead. Though the tracker he had within his pocket had said the humvee hadn't been tampered with in their absence, one could never be too careful. Soap brought up his machine gun and sauntered over to the vehicle. With alert eyes, he looked around and underneath, and when finding nothing to suggest someone else had come across the humvee, Soap opened the front door. The interior light came on, and Soap leaned over and placed the key in the ignition. He turned it over, and the humvee purred to life with half a tank of gas.
Soap turned to alert Ghost that the vehicle had passed inspection, but the guy was already standing beside him with Abagail in tow.
"All clear," Soap assured him anyways.
Ghost nodded, then pulled open the back door of the humvee and sat Abagail down carefully in the backseat. Soap got in behind the driver's seat and buckled up. The time on the dash didn't inspire any hope. It was already past three o'clock in the morning, and they still had another long while before they reached the cabin they'd been using as a base for the last three days.
Soap turned the dials for warm air, hoping the engine would warm up fast. The dash said the temperature was in the negatives, and he knew Abagail had only been wearing thin blankets the entire time. Ghost climbed in the backseat with her and closed the door, draping them all in the dark until the dash lights lit up the humvee's large interior in a dim glow.
Soap flipped the headlights on and put the giant vehicle in drive. He sighed into the silence, wishing he was already at their destination. He was so ready for bed.
"We've got another two-hour drive," Simon told Abby. She pulled her eyes away from the window she sat beside and over to the man in the backseat with her. "If you'd like to try and sleep a little."
As if on cue, a yawn overtook her. Abby gave him a half smile and nodded. She readjusted the blanket around her body and used the other as a pillow against the cold glass window. She closed her eyes, willing her body to relax and rest.
Memories of the horrible past two weeks flashed behind her closed eyelids. She'd been kidnapped and taken away from her home. A place that used to be her sanctuary. Abby frowned, and her brows furrowed. Yes, she was glad she'd been rescued, but once she returned home, would she ever feel safe in her apartment again? She shivered, pushing those intrusive thoughts out of her mind.
"Want the heat up more?" Simon asked her softly.
Abby looked over at him and tried to give him a convincing smile. "No, I'm fine."
"You're shaking," he stated matter-of-factly.
"I'll be okay eventually."
Simon was quiet for a while as he stared over at her. Without looking at John, he said, "Turn the heat up a little more."
Abby rested her head on the makeshift pillow, closed her eyes, and just like clockwork, her mind continued on a loop, thinking about the events of her capture. Five men had surrounded her bedroom, placed a bag over her head, and thrown her into a car's trunk. She rode in the cramped compartment, barely able to breathe, for God only knew how long before the vehicle finally came to a stop. When it was finally opened again, Abby had been pulled from the trunk, the bag over her head was torn off, and she found herself standing in the middle of a clearing surrounded by thick forest. The only things around were three nondescript cars in the driveway, a small storage building, and a house. Abby was forced up the small steps and onto the porch, where she was pushed through the front door and into the dank-smelling house.
The first week had been complete torture. She thought they would kill her every day, and the tears never stopped. It wasn't until the man who took care of her had gotten fed up with the crying that he told her they had been ordered not to kill her. He didn't say anything more, and Abby hadn't asked. After that, she did stop crying, but instead, she just became numb. Stuck in the small room day after day, she had become a shell of what she once was. She'd lost all hope in being found. Though she knew she wouldn't die by these men, Abagail Williams, the twenty-seven-year-old teacher from Chicago, Illinois, had officially died.
She opened her eyes and watched as the thick trees passed quickly by the window of the humvee. Abby allowed herself a small smile. She had been saved. Something Abby had thought wouldn't happen at all. And she was very thankful for both of the men who were in the car with her.
She eyed John out of the corner of her eye as he drove the vehicle down the dirt road. The man hadn't spoken to her since he attempted to grab her back at the house. In retrospect, maybe she did overreact a little, but who wouldn't have in her position? He had blood all over his face! Though she was glad to see now that sometime in their travel to the humvee, he'd found somewhere to wash it off. Abby frowned, then turned her attention back out the window. She hoped John didn't hate her for her reaction. Abby wanted her chance to explain herself to him. Maybe once they reached their destination, she could do just that.
The man from Abby's nightmares come to life, Simon, moved beside her on the bench seat. She was glad for the darkness of the cabin, for an embarrassing blush touched Abby's cheeks as she thought about her first encounter with him. As with John, Abby's first meeting with the man in the mask hadn't faired well either. Simon, though scary and intimidating, had been nothing but a gentleman. He'd answered her questions calmly though being really short on time, something Abby hadn't realized until much later when Simon had explained things to her more clearly. And the entire walk through the wilderness of Saskatchewan, he'd held her protectively, and Abby had found herself oddly comforted by a man she'd thought would kill her earlier.
The humvee hit a deep pothole in the road, causing the vehicle to jerk quickly. Abby's forehead came into contact with the cold window with a hard smack against the glass.
"Shit!" Abby groaned, quickly placing a hand on her head and leaning back against the headrest.
Simon slid next to her and leaned in close, examining her forehead. "You okay?"
Abby lifted one eyelid and looked at him. "Yeah," she said with a huff. "I'm good."
It hurt now, but she knew in a few minutes it'd be better, but Simon wouldn't let it go. He reached up, and with a gentle hand, he wrapped his large hand around her wrist and pulled it away. Abby let him and dropped her hand from her forehead. She noticed he didn't let go of her as he leaned close to her face to examine. Abby said nothing, staying silent as he eyed the small tender spot on her forehead.
The humvee jerked again from another pothole, causing Abby to lean into Simon's chest forcibly. Her breath caught in her throat as she pushed back and stared up at him to find him already staring down at her.
Simon blinked, then pulled his eyes from hers and out the front windshield. "That might happen more. This road is a long one."
John clicked something on the dashboard. "We've got about eighty kilometers to..." He stopped speaking and eyed Abby in the review mirror. "About fifty more miles to go."
When John returned his attention to the dirt road they were traveling on, Abby smirked to herself. If she weren't so tired, she would have laughed. She was a seventh-grade teacher, after all. She knew the metric system just as well as the imperial, but she wasn't going to tell him that. Abby was just happy that John had actually spoken to her.
A yawn escaped, making her eyes water profusely. She wiped the tiredness away and readjusted the blanket she had wrapped around her. Abby looked down at the large bench seat she and Simon sat on. As if thinking the same thing, he slid away from her and next to the window. She frowned when she realized she wished more than anything that he would have stayed next to her, missing the warmth he'd brought with him.
Simon rested his right arm on the back of the bench seat, inviting her to lie next to him. Finding herself wanting nothing more, Abby eagerly pulled her legs up and laid down, the top of her head brushing his thigh. Her heartbeat quickened, and she was feeling slightly nervous for unknown reasons. She didn't even bother covering her feet back up that had become uncovered when she'd laid down hastily.
She'd closed her eyes, but they popped open when Simon began readjusting the blanket himself. Abby looked up to find him leaning over her as he made sure every inch of her was covered with the blanket, even going as far as tucking it around her back, legs, and feet. Despite his outward appearance, this man had very gentle hands, his touches soft and delicate.
"Thank you," Abby whispered when he brushed some of her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear.
He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze in answer. Feeling a little more confident, Abby found herself scooting closer to the man beside her to rest her head upon his muscular thigh. Simon tensed underneath her touch, but only for a second before he began stroking his thumb back and forth on her shoulder. It didn't take long before the ministrations finally lulled Abby into a deep sleep.