Brock had always prided himself on being a man of action. The tip of the spear but also a man of diligence. He was not reactionary. Always capable of being extreme, and calm enough to know when not to be. But as Pepper pulled on the leash and they rounded a bend in the mountainside calm was far away.
He watched as Sonny darted ahead and helped Trent lower a woman to stand between them. Watched as Sonny smiled broadly. Saw as Ray and Jason passed by him to get to them. Felt Jason clap him on the back. Observed as Ray handed him a canteen and Trent sipped it before passing it gently to her.
Stillness and calmness are often synonymous but they can be anything but as well. Brock felt like fire was creeping up inside his chest. A burning anger and fear exploding with each heartbeat. As Trent's eyes met his he wanted to smile, to nod, to acknowledge his brother in some way but visions of shaking him by the collar flashed in his green eyes. He wanted to scream and yell and allow that rage to escape him and he looked to Pepper to break the gaze betweem them he hoped before Trent could notice.
Waiting for orders was something he was so accustomed to that remembering this was not a sanctioned operation and he could turn and leave took an embarrassingly long time. Such a long time that his brothers most likely assumed he was simply leading them back from where they came. He knew that behind him they were quietly chatting. Heard Trent saying their names probably telling the woman he was with, making introductions he had no intention of being a part of. He listened as Jason radioed that they had found not only Trent but an injured hiker. Heard as he requested an ambulance for her and wondered if this wounded bird of a woman was the reason this wasn't a recovery.
The further Brock hiked back toward reality the more he wanted to vomit. Bile rising in his throat and anger encompassing his entire being. He knew by now they wondered why his usually silence was amplified but he had no words for any of them at the moment.
He thought about the fog of numbness that had surrounded him since the day before and how it would be a welcome reprieve from the boiling within. A refuge from each step being a shockwave of rage. An aftershock of an anger he never knew until rounding a bend on a mountainside some would see as beautiful.
He felt a tremble in his shoulders as the emotions cascaded over him. Brock had seen a few dogs who were broken by trauma. Those who'd lost a handler or just become shell-shocked. It was the reason he'd retired Cerberus, to save him. Cerb never had to become a broken dog, pacing a cage, trapped and ready to bite. That is exactly how Brock felt as they hiked endlessly back from where Trent had dragged them all.
Yesterday he had wished he could have wanted pancakes instead of burgers and now he wished he had never wanted to get food at all. Wished none of them were here now. And wished that he didn't have to now ride an hour back home in Jason's truck. But he had wanted burgers.