Water was dripping...it always starts with the constant pinging of drops against stone ticking time like a seconds hand on a broken watch. Like a hammer tapping against a nail, like a whip cracking against his skin constantly and inevitable. If Mac ever allowed himself to think about it, which he never did or would do, he'd guess it was out of place. In a rock cave, in the middle of the desert how could there be enough water to drip uncollected and ignored? Or maybe he'd be thankful there was something to focus on other than the constant pain, the echo of his screams, the blurring confusion caused by drugs that made him sick.
That day was no different than the two preceding it-beatings, questions, drugs, the occasional respite of unconsciousness and continuous fog of pain and confusion. In the back of his mind a tiny sliver of sanity lay curled safely ignored, Jack would come to save him. As sure as tomorrow, he knew that, clung to it as he fought for the next breath, screamed the next scream, saw it in every drop of his blood tapping against the stone. Mac just had to get through the next second, the next minute, the next hour, the next day until the scruffy face of his best friend poked through the haze and carried him to safety. He just had to hold on. That day was different; They managed to do what no one had ever done before, break his world. Mac lost everything that mattered. Mac moaned as he felt the rough hands bending him a harsh and painful as the grating Russian...then cold exposure...then nothing but PAIN, SHAME, and brokenness in places he never thought an enemy could reach.
Mac screamed. Everything was blurry, voices, faces…
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" He yelled, backing away in panic. Every cell of his skin burned, hyperaware to threats of violation.
"Mac…" Mac felt hands against his burning skin, the touch hurting more than the fire. He yanked his arm free and pushed back. He fell and landed heavily on stone. Mac yelled in agony as his knee exploded into pain. People crouched beside him, some part of his brain knew it was different. This now wasn't that then, but he felt the same panic spiral through his body-stealing his control, "Mac, easy kiddo." Mac wanted to cling to the voice, he knew it meant safety…
"DON'T TOUCH ME!"
"It's ok; no one's going to touch you. You're safe. Kilov's not here; he's dead remember?" Mac blinked and shook his head. His chest hurt, as if feeling it himself Mac could hear Jack, "C'mon brother, breathe." Mac's body automatically responded. Mac reached out a hand...please let his lifeline be real! Mac shook his head.
"Jack?" He murmured. Jack's worried frown stepped through his murky world leading him back to sanity, back to now. Mac took in his surroundings and slumped in relief. No cave, no dripping, no Kilov… Mac curled forward shoving the sharp edge of stabbing pain back into his gut. Mac moaned and forced himself to look up. He was sprawled on the brick floor of the mission's cellar. He rubbed his shoulder. It had been a good four feet from the table to the floor, "Ouch." He said softly offering Jack a small smile. Jack nodded.
"No, kidding. You ok?" Jack tone was familiar. Mac narrowed his eyes and focused on him. Jack's silent question was 'we're in a world of shit can you keep it together?' Mac nodded then frowned. Jack looked haggard. He was pale. Bloody bandages lined his chest and leg. The older man looked ready to drop.
"What's going on? Are you ok?" Jack let out a breath and nodded. He pushed off the brick wall and swayed to his feet. Mac jumped as others moved around him. He looked up startled.
"It's ok, Mac." Doc Carl said gently. Pavlo smiled but wisely said nothing. Mac assumed it was the old man speaking Russian that sent him into a tailspin. Mac nodded and accepted the doctor's hands helping him climb to his feet. Mac almost fell over. He looked down. His knee had swelled to the size of a melon, and yellowish fluid oozed through his shiny, taut skin. He frowned and put his arms across Doc Carl's and Jack's shoulders. The eased him back onto the metal table. Mac allowed them to straighten his right leg but refused to lay down. He met Jack's eyes.
"Ok, what's going on?"
"Well, we raided Grant's wannabe mansion. No confirmed kill on Grant. I'm assuming he squirmed his way out, that's what cockroaches do." Jack growled. Mac smiled feeling a sense of balance returning to him. Jack didn't notice, "twenty to thirty guys are heading up this way. I came up in a Blackhawk, so we got Riley, the doc here, Cage, Alpha and Beta with us. This place is a good set up for defense." Mac studied Jack's eyes.
"Then why aren't you happier?" Jack ran a hand through his hair.
"Grant bragged that he has a bomb planted on you somewhere." Mac's eyes widened, and his heart pounded. He looked down and realized they had changed his clothes out of loose sweats and a too-tight T-shirt. His brace was gone.
"Crutches? Brace?" Mac asked. Jack shook his head.
"Nothing. We took those down to scrap metal. Riley even ran a detector thingy over it." Mac nodded frowning. His eyes fell to his knees, and he felt his gut splash onto the floor, "Wha- no way, dude."
"What?" Doc Carl asked confused. Most of the time when the two men were spitballing the doctor had learned to stay quiet and wait. Mac looked at him with haunted eyes.
"My knee, the explosive is on my knee." Doc Carl let out a nervous laugh.
"No, it couldn't…" Doc Carl stared at the round knee. That would explain the infection and swelling, but how…
"Ok, Jack I need your EOD knife," Mac said with determination. Both men stared at him.
"Mac, let me get my scalpel and I can…" Mac shook his head adamant.
"Look, it's a bomb. Metal could set it off. I have to disarm it like any other bomb. Judging by the swelling, there's probably enough explosive packed around the joint to kill everyone here." Mac eyed Jack steadily. Jack closed his eyes and pulled his folding ceramic knife out from a pouch in his vest. Mac's hands were steady as he took it. He glanced at Doc Carl, "You should get out of here?" Doc Carl shook his head.
"I'll go when you go." Mac glanced at Jack who gave him a raised eyebrow. Mac nodded and leaned forward. His heart bounced with fever, pain, and dread. It took all of his will to push that aside as he slowly pressed down into his flesh. Mac gritted his teeth to keep from crying out. On the plus side, as soon as it broke open the pus and blood spewed out in a thick continuous wash. The painful pressure eased. Mac cut a straight line through the zigzag stitches of Grant. He set down the knife. His body shook as if it were at ground zero of an earthquake. He was aware of Jack and the Doc talking to him. Mac grimly shoved everything aside focusing on the gaping wet wound.
Mac cried out in pain as he leaned forward and probed the wound with his hands spreading the flesh aside. He could hear notes of horror in his friend's voice, but there was no other way to reach the bomb. Mac closed his eyes and concentrated on what he felt with his hands. Finally, he felt the hard bone of his knee and the ridge of the artificial joint. He followed along that until he felt a small wire. Mac sucked in a shaky breath feeling nauseated. He shook his head stubbornly refusing to pass out. He knew all their lives depended on it. His fingers wrapped around a thick block that felt like clay wrapped around his femur. He grabbed it as firmly as he could and yanked.
Mac screamed and fell back a bloody ball in his hand. Jack closed his eyes sure he was going to puke. Doc Carl moved forward and wrapped Mac's knee in clean towels trying to staunch the constant gush of fluid. Mac's body shook. He shot Jack a pleading look and held out the bloody ball.
"Pull...wires…" Mac managed to mouth through white lips and paler skin. Jack grimaced as he took the bloody knob and turned it until he felt two wires. He pulled them out of the putty just as they sparked. Jack closed his eyes and let out a long breath. They had been that close. Jack set aside the would-be killer bomb and took Mac's hand. He winced at the wet stickiness on both of their fists.
"We got it." Jack murmured. Mac's eyes hung like slings full of rocks. He offered a weak smile then passed out. Jack automatically turned to Doc Carl who was sweating as he packed the wound with QuickClot and held the wound closed for the bandage to harden and seal. He looked up at Jack with wide eyes.
"Is it always like this in the field?" The young doctor's voice was breathless. Jack smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Nah, today's a good day." Doc Carl gaped at Jack in utter disbelief, "Look after m'boy, doc. I'm gonna go shore up security and get ready for the bad guys." Doc Carl nodded. Evalina came running into the room.
"They almost here." She said her Russian accent stronger with her excitement. Jack nodded his face stormy.
"Let's show them what we think of them." He growled. Evalina smiled and pushed back the long side of hair.
"Yes, davay ispogadim ikh!" Jack had no idea what that translated to, but the vicious glint in the girl's eyes told him all he had to know. Neither would be happy until Grant's head was on a platter served up to starving coyotes.
Jack stood on the edge of the plateau and frowned. He could make out the dim lights of Grant's small caravan intermittently. The mission was almost invisible in the darkness. Cage and Nellie ran to join Jack and Evalina. Jack pushed a com into his ear.
"We have some of the aggro sisters guarding the ankle biters and the older women in the chapel with Pavlo." Jack raised an eyebrow. Cage's Aussie roots showed more when she was emotional. He supposed his Texican did too.
"Ok, you two take the teams and start head hunting. I'll go to the tower and provide overwatch."They nodded to turn away, "Oh and ladies, three weeks off to anyone who brings me Lazlo's head, attached or not."
"We'd do that for free," Nellie said with a sweet smile. Cage tapped her on the shoulder.
"Don't tell him that." Jack rolled his eyes and ran to the tower. He had Bertha set up on her tripod ready to sing. The Barret M82 had been with him in so many battles, the sniper rifle felt like a third arm. He clicked the iron cover off the night vision scope and tugged back the safety. He felt an icy calm come over him. Fighting hand to hand brought out his inner brawler, filled him with the charge of adrenaline and excitement. When Jack looked into Bertha's scope, Jack's calm, deadly analytical side surfaced. He half listened to chatter between the teams on coms. The black vehicles had stopped behind a thick brush of yearling trees. Jack waited patiently. He grinned as a shadow poked his head out. With the green night vision, the man might just have well held up a flag demanding Jack to shoot him.
"Well, if you insist." Jack whispered to himself. He tugged the trigger and grinned, the man dropping to the ground before the bark of the rifle echoed across the mountains. Jack sighed in contentment as two more targets exposed themselves as they bent over their comrade.
"Chumps," Jack said. The two hit the ground at the same time. The shots belched out so quickly the thundering boom sounded like a single shot. The rest of the invaders got the memo and kept their hineys stuck to the ground. Jack waited as patiently as a black widow in the center of her web. Positionally the attackers had a hell of a disadvantage. They had to come up a steep incline then cross a stretch of open ground before they could reach the mission. In their favor were their number. Jack planned to scavenge every scrap of an advantage he had for as long as he could.
The TAC soldiers wore square patches visible only to Jack's scope. Jack shot anything else that moved. As they neared, Jack started to hear the screams of his victims and saw spurts of controlled fire from Phoenix's M5s. Jack held out until the first three cleared the edge of the cliff. He zipped them then moved to the steep steps down to ground level. Being on the only point where a sniper could perch would make him an easy target for their Kalishnikov AK-12s. He folded the stock and stooped behind a garden wall. Bertha had a muzzle brake that reduced the recoil by over 70%. If she didn't, Jack would be picking his shattered shoulder off the stone floor. He braced himself and started firing in short automatic bursts as figures in black without badges crept through the high grass.
"They are like cockroaches," Jack mumbled. Jack could see more movement closer to the mission and smiled as he recognized his TAC crew sneaking up on the enemy and taking them out with a silence Jack was pretty damn proud of.
"They're coming in the graveyard!" Nellie yelled breathless.
"I got it, Jenkins and Carter, on me!" Jack saw the three break into a sprint in a diagonal to his right. He saw four enemies raise Kalishnikovs. Jack had three clean kills; one jumped, so he was only wounded. He managed to lift his weapon and fire on the Phoenix team. Jack saw a flash of light colored hair through his scope. One of the three fell unmoving to the ground.
"Son of a bitch!" Jack growled. He bugged out and sprinted closer covering his teammate and finishing the job on the wounded enemy. Out of the corner of his eye behind him, he saw at least seven black-clad figures sprint through the cloister arches. Jack jumped. Suddenly a sound broke through the night; it was a cross between a loud snake's rattle and a banshee warble. It was creepy as hell. Jack realized where he'd heard it before-Xena, Warrior Princess. Jack vaguely remembered Mac explaining the many Mediterranean and middle eastern women used that when facing trouble-uvulating? Ovulating? Something like that. Jack shook his head. He could understand why. Having that hair-raising cat growl come out of black night freaked him the fuck out.
He smiled at startled screams of pain and the sound of splashing. The sisters had boiled water to throw at their enemies. The monks and some of the older kids had grabbed anything they could as weapons-knives, brooms, frying pans-whatever could be thrown, swung, or stabbed at the bad guys was swinging in use.
Jack had a moment to think of the Alamo. What a different battle it might have been if the men had just stepped aside and sicked the girls on ol' Antonio Anna's crew. Jack didn't have a chance to chide himself for his inattention. He whirled to face movement, and a pistol-whipped across his head. He fell back against a column shaking his head to clear it. His attacker, one of a group of three, kicked him in his thigh where he got shot. Jack grunted as his leg caved. Another blow across his head flattened him bleeding to the hard stone. Jack lost Bertha in the blurry confusion. He blindly lashed out with a boot catching one guy in the gut. Another opponent raised his boot to crush Jack's chest. Jack managed to grab the man's foot like a football stopping its momentum. He arched his hip and pivoted using his hip torque to twist the man's foot enough that bones crunched. The man screamed and slumped to the ground.
Jack's heart froze as he saw one of the other men aim a Kalashnikov at his head. Before Jack could blink, the man was thrown to the side by a deadly blow to his head. Jack kicked the last man's feet out from under him and pulled the man's head to his chest. Jack leaned back with a twist and cleanly snapped the man's neck. He looked up. Evalina held Bertha by the barrel as if the rifle was a baseball bat. Jack winced. It was a miracle the girl didn't blow her head off. Jack took the girl's hand and pushed himself to his feet. He took the rifle and put on the safety. He frowned at the crumbling glass that fell from the night scope.
"I'm sorry." Evalina said. Jack grinned and pulled her into a quick hug.
"Don't be; I was almost agoner!" Evaline nodded even though she didn't understand Jack's slang, "'sides won't be the first time." Of course, normally it was Mac pulling it apart to make a laser or microwave or whatever. He glanced around him. He heard shoes, but no boots. There was no sound of violence, "Sound off!" All of Phoenix was alive. Cage had a bullet in her thigh, but Doc Carl was already at her side. Jack sighed and looked down at Evalina. In the dim light of the stars, he could see reflections from her multitude of piercings and teeth. He could feel her body relax under the arm he draped across her soldiers.
"Alright everybody, let's get some lights on out here and clean up…" Jack stopped dead when he heard a familiar voice scream from the basement of the chapel.
"MAC!" Jack screamed running at double time. Shit.