Shelter from the Storm
a/n I again find myself typing the warning that this may not make sense unless you've read my other stories...but I hope you ll enjoy it anyway. Happy Holidays!
sunny
Christmas Eve with Mercenary Ranger...
Chapter Twenty ~ long journey back to Christmas...
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in the cold mountains of an un-named 'stan
12/25/xx 0100 hours, local time
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I was hunched there by the fire, silently minding my own business, my mind many miles away...
Merry Christmas, babe, I love you.
Merry Christmas, chica, I love you.
Merry Christmas, baby, I love you.
I love you, too, daddy. I miss you. I caught a whiff of big brown eyes filled with tears.
I'll be home soon.
I know.
Merry Christmas, Killer. Um, yeah, okay, I love you. More huge sad brown eyes, a mournful mouf. feelings of love. Killer is the family pug, you may recall...How can anyone not love a pug? I smiled to myself, damn dog always makes me smile.
then...
Merry Christmas, man.
Merry Christmas, Ranger. Stay safe.
Merry Christmas...I imagined my aunt Olivia and my mom, sent my love.
Merry Christmas, hermano, I lov...
Yeah, yeah you too, so why are you, like, all alone in 'Stanville, dude? Like all solo and all? I coulda come with, ya know...
I... [wish you were here...]
Yeah, me too.
I love you.
I know. Be careful out there.
Merry Christmas.
Peace on Earth, dude.
... ... ...
"I don't know what I pictured," groused one of the Navy SEALs, "but I somehow when I signed up I never figured I'd be spending Christmas a million miles from home... waiting for the go sign, on a black hill outside a black cave in the middle of fucking nowhere."
My reverie interrupted rudely, I turned my head a little and stared at him.
The man caught my look, and glared back.
"Never volunteer,'' laughed someone else on the other side of the tiny campfire.
''At least it's snowing,'' chimed in someone else. Yes. It was snowing. And cold.
The SEAL continued. "Still and all...I feel cheated, somehow. Like someone stole my wallet. And this place is spooky.''
''Yeah, Mikey. The 'Stan has, whaddaya-call-its, djinns. Genies...and they mad cos we here on our own holiday," another SEAL told him.
''That's right,'' laughed Never Volunteer—a guy who was actually called Jake. ''Yo, Mikey, probably demons took your gold and gave you the willies. When you get to Hell, you can ask for it back. Your gold, I mean. Not your willy."
"Asshole," groused Mike Lonergan, aka Mikey, second in command of the SEALs group attached to tonight's joint Special Forces op. Their captain was in the cave talking to the Army liaison, a woman of all things, an infantry major called Meacham.
She wasn't a problem, far as I could tell. Or at least not yet, but the cranky SEAL was getting on my nerves. This guy was no newbie, he knew what he signed on for.
Another man shifted his rifle, leaned forward into the firelight. His name was Joe (no, not that Joe) and he was grinning. He said, "It could be worse. One time we was off the coast of, well, somewhere hot. Exfil was 0400, back as pitch out there. We get to our coordinates, we're standing on the beach, and we see...a little black floatie thing, rolling in on the waves. Like a half-sunk inner tube."
A couple guys laughed. "Oh yeah..."
"I mean, I was expecting an RCOGNV, you now?" [ree-COG-nif] He glanced at me and needlessly translated, ''A Radar Controlled Ocean Going Naval Vehicle? Or a heli? Shit, man, at least a rowboat! But no. So I get on the comm line, call the ship...Commander asks What's our problem, he sent the zodiac. I look out at the water and tell him, I'm spec ops, man, I don't know much about boats, but I would say that one's upside down. And sinking fast, sir.''
More light laughter. I frowned a little.
''And he says, well in that case, I hope you can swim."
''Oh geez,'' laughs someone else. ''And when we finally get to the ship, we're wet, we're cold, we're tired-Joe here tells the ship commander, Merry Fucking Christmas! and the a-hole commander as the nerve to get peeved."
Head wagged sadly, grins flashing in commiseration.
Mikey wasn't gonna let it go though.
After a short pause he groused, "So I got three little ones home, they're waiting for Santa. My wife's gotta explain to these itty bitty kiddies that Santa has another more important job. And how daddy left them to put up the Navy ornament with his picture on it all by their lonesomes. It sucks, it really does.''
I shrugged.
"What about you, Santiago, you got a real face on you there...They celebrate Christmas where you come from?" asked Mikey. "Or you're one of them guys whose kids go to school on our big holidays?''
I knew he was asking if I was a Muslim...or perhaps an Orthodox Jew? but I just stared. Hello? My code name was Santiago, does that sound Islamic to you?
"Fucking un-American," mumbled Mikey.
An uneasy silence crept over the campfire. These SEALs were my back-up not the other way around. And Mikey and the other men here just remembered that I am the paid assassin. They're just...window dressing.
Finally Lonergan said, ''Don't get offended, my man, I was just yanking your pecker. No offense."
''I suggest you don't yank on it,'' I answered coldly, "even it's not your pecker that's on the line here. But it can be. If I did decide to..." I reached down and grabbed the long spec ops KBar knife I had laid on the rocky ground at my feet. Mikey squirmed a little. I can even scare a badass Navy SEAL...with just a knife. Not that I need a knife, of course. I hid my grin and stood up. I was joking but the SEALs were now too scared to laugh. I added, ''I'm going to take a look around our perimeter.''
The small boy who had earlier in the op attached himself to us jumped up and followed me. He was silent but I still turned and motioned to him, with a finger in front of my face. He nodded and clutched his little scrawny dog in his arms.
Probably both of them were orphans. Unusual to see a dog here, Muslims don't like dogs; the puppy looked to be the offspring of a herding dog, the boy from a mountain tribe nearby. These tribes were shepherds and weavers, rug makers; not militants, but the endless years of war had brought death and loss to everyone in its path here, regardless. The boy seemed harmless, I'd ordered the SEALs to allow him to stay. So far I hadn't managed to get the child to talk to me. I didn't want to go through my entire repertoire of Afghani dialects in front of the Navy. They didn't need to know.
Now I tried a phrase, just barely whispered in the dark, "Are you hungry?"
Vigorous nod yes.
''Okay.'' I headed to our vehicle where I knew there would be MREs stashed. Not tasty but nutritious. [Meals Ready to Eat]
As we slipped by the black cave opening the Army major stepped out. She paused and raised an eyebrow.
"Snack time,'' I whispered.
She smiled a little, said, ''If it's all the same, I would like to come along too.''
''Yes, ma'am." Even she didn't realize I outrank her.
She fell in beside us, looked at the little kid, "Seems we've got a kid, a dog, why not a woman?"
''No reason, ma'am. But it's not the Ritz."
We opened packets of god knows what. The boy and the puppy ate ravenously.
The major asked, ''You married, Santiago?''
I looked at her, best blank face.
?
''Nevermind." She made a face at the taste of her MRE and went on, " My husband is back home with the kids in Minnesota. Duluth, brrr! And they told me —I did a Skype convo earlier—that they made me a jewel box. Out of a cigar box from their grandpa! I said, Get out! Why! And the little one slipped and said, Because daddy bought you a silver locket. With all their pictures! And they hoped Santa would find me. And give me their gift." She looked like she might cry.
''I hope he does ma'am," I said stupidly.
''What did you buy your wife?''
An antique art deco diamond bracelet from Fred Leighton's and a new Porsche. I must have said it out loud —Steph's verbal diarrhea is contagious? —because the major laughed.
The little boy opened another MRE and said, ''Shhhh!''
She nodded. Looked more closely at me. "Geez. Black ops must pay really well."
Maybe. But you know, like good old Mikey, I'd really rather be home. Merry Christmas.
the end of the story, series to be continued
ESP conversations are with/ to: Stephanie, Julie, Zoe, Killer the Pug, Ranger's mother, his aunt Olivia Stewart, Tank, Anthony...