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The sensation of falling backwards is what first woke Clay up. Well, maybe not so much awake, more like around. At first he thought it was the dream everyone had when they're falling. But then, he felt the bumps as he was dragged backwards, his hip hitting the ground before being lifted up and carried away.
Trapped in the sleeping bag, stunned by an aching head, dulled by pain and the effects of morphine, his ability to fight free or even call out was non-existent. When he did manage to finally dig out an arm and fumble for the zipper, a cloth was pressed over his mouth and nose and despite his efforts to hold his breath and not inhale, he soon passed out, the sleeping bag carried like a litter.
When he came to again, he was standing with both feet on the floor, his arms stretched overhead, hands somehow tied together over or on something above his head. While not a painful position, his entire weight not hanging on his arms, it was not a comfortable one either. His shoulder still ached from holding Chase's weight and keeping it over his head caused pressure to build steadily, and soon, the cramps started.
Aww, shit.
Shaking off the lingering fuzziness from his still clouded brain, he looked around the room without moving his head. A shack, storage shed maybe, nothing in it but sacks of grain or animal feed. Trying to look up with just his eyes caused such a strain on his eye sockets and forehead, he groaned, then bit his lip to stifle the noise. He didn't want to make any sound that would alert someone he was awake. He could see the shed had a loft and he hung from a pulley system last seen on an Amish farm, probably used to haul bales of hay to the loft above.
He closed his eyes and squinted them tight, trying to relieve the ache that was now behind his cheeks.
Great.
He went up on tiptoes, tested the ropes around his wrists, discovered that though his hands were tied together, they were not tied around the beam or to the pulley. He was simply hung-up like a coat on a hook. So, he could get himself down. His hands would still be tied, but they'd be in front of him and his feet weren't tied, which meant he could run. He had to be in the camp, he guessed, didn't know that because he hadn't seen where they'd brought him, but it was still dark, so they hadn't gone far. He knew how to get back to Charlie….
His thought process screeched to an abrupt, complete halt.
Charlie.
Would they look for him? Come after him? Would they still be at that stupid campsite should he manage to get himself back to it? Were it Bravo out there, he wouldn't have to worry about getting himself free, they'd come after him - and they still would, no doubt, but no time soon, he'd just wait right here. Hell, they never would have let him be taken in the first place. But it wasn't Bravo, it was Charlie….yeah, Spence, you're on your own buddy.
Sighing, shaking off the melancholy thoughts, Clay raised his head, looked up at his hands. Moving his head hurt, looking up hurt, trying to see in the dim light hurt, but he could move his fingers and when he stayed on his toes, there was slack in the rope holding him to the hook in the beam.
Soooo…if his body would cooperate, he could easily hold his weight on his hands by grabbing hold of the pulley or hook, swing his feet up, cross his ankles over the beam, hang by his feet and pull his hands off the pulley. Easy, right? Yeah, maybe not. He sighed again. He knew how to do it, had done it numerous times in training, could do it effortlessly and be free within seconds…..when his shoulder wasn't giving him fits. When blinking didn't hurt. When his leg didn't burn and his gut didn't throb. When he wasn't so cold. When he didn't feel so fucking weird. When his heart hadn't relocated itself behind his left eye and pulsed in such a rhythm, his eye kept trying to pop right out of its socket with every beat.
Aww, fuck.
He remembered how he'd felt after pulling Chase up the cliff. The head rush, the flushing hotness that had taken forever to subside. He'd been given morphine not so long ago, it would eventually wear off and while he didn't throw reactions to it or suffer severe side effects, it did muddle his thinking and inhibit his motions. The taste in his dry mouth reminded him he'd been rendered unconscious by a smelly cloth…..ether, chloroform….this country was backwards enough those chemicals would easily be obtained.
Well, shit.
He wrapped his fingers around the pulley, got a good hold, tested pulling his weight up. Doable, even if he did wince. He heard a noise, zeroed in on the door, saw it being pulled open, went limp and let his head hang. Damn, that hurt, pulled on both shoulders, but no since letting anyone know he was awake or he'd lose the moment of surprise.
Chin to chest, cheek on shoulder, he was able to crack open one eye just enough to see what was directly in front of him.
The god-damn blonde. Hell, he should have tied the bitch up and dragged her down the hill by her hair. Her hand was bandaged and she kept it close to her side. Definitely broken. No way she grabbed him, carried him and hung him here by herself. Nuh-huh.
He closed his eye when she came straight to him, grabbed his chin and forced his head up. He didn't flinch at her touch, but boy, was that ever hard to do. She didn't do anything, just stood and stared at him, waiting.
A man bearing a lantern entered behind her. Obviously he didn't want her there, made shooing motions with his hands towards the door, speaking in a language Clay didn't recognize. Russian maybe? Didn't matter. Clay was more interested in the lantern. It was oil and flame and there was hay or straw all over the floor, easy to set fire to. If the shed went up in flames, not even Charlie could miss how the sky would light up, a beacon to his location.
They were arguing and soon lapsed into broken English. She wanted to kill him and the man wanted to use him as bait and wait for his men to come after him, then kill all those, 'bloody, interfering Americans' who had taken the lives of five of their friends.
Joke's on you asshole, Clay thought. Bravo will come after me alive or dead. Will take them awhile, but they will find you. Charlie, well, they would 'assess the situation, call in to report, wait for a search and rescue team to be deployed'.
"Who are you?" she asked, poking him in the belly. Yeah, with his arms stretched over his head, his shirt exposed his belly, the bandage easily visible. "Why do you bother us? What is it you want? What do you think we have?"
Ugh, how did he always end up in situations like this?
He felt fingers brush against his throat, he didn't tense, but was ready to hoist himself up so he could kick out with his feet, but all the fingers did was dig the chain around his neck out from under his shirt.
"Army tags." The man cursed. "American Army. They always come for their man. We wait. Kill them all."
The blonde stormed out, letting the door slam behind her. The bitch took the lantern with her. The man made the stupid mistake of assuming since his captive was tied up, hung from a hook and seemingly unconscious, he was no threat, so he didn't move away when he ordered Clay to wake up with a hard slap across his exposed cheek.
Wrong.
Without a sound, Clay grabbed the pulley, pulled himself up, kicked out and wrapped his legs around the man's head. His weight off his shoulders, he lifted his hands off the pulley, grabbed the beam and used his thigh muscles to cut off the man's ability to breathe.
He hadn't spent hours besting those 'country blokes' in the local bar back home riding the mechanical bull for nothing. He'd gained strong thigh muscles from all that riding even though he was tossed off head-over-heels every god-damn single time Sonny took over the controls.
The man gasped, flailed with his fists, tried to punch and hit at Clay's feet, calves, knees, but to no avail. Clawed at the bandage around his thigh, causing the staples to pull taunt, making his quad muscle quiver, his grip weaken, but Clay held tight, grunting through the pain until finally, the man weakened, passed out and went slack.
He thought about breaking the man's neck, but Jason would want someone alive, so when his knees buckled and his body tried to sink to the floor, Clay let go of the beam and let his weight fall with the man's. It was an easier descent to the floor then jumping down on feet with no boots with his hands tied and unable to assist with balance.
He checked the man's pockets but found nothing. A quick search of the shed revealed nothing he could use to cut the ropes from his hands. Using his teeth, he shredded a burlap feed sack into strips and awkwardly hog-tied and gagged the man then dragged him to the farthest, darkest corner and blocked him from view with several bags.
Done with that exhausting chore, Clay sat shaking on the floor, trying to catch his breath, wishing for water or coffee, something to drink; a warm shirt, boots, his pants, his sat phone, something, anything that offered the comfort of familiarity.
"Navy, you asshole." Clay dropped his dog tags back under his shirt. "Not Army." He pressed the back of one hand against the bruised bump on his forehead. "And damn right we come after our own."
Still weak and shaky, now well aware just how many stomach muscles were used to strangle a man with his legs, he pushed to his feet, eased the door open and slipped out into the coming dawn.
***000***
"You're going after him?" Beau said. Charlie stood on one side of the fire, Bravo the other.
No one answered him.
Their breath caught, the minor injuries attended, Bravo gathered their shit, Clay's belongings, geared up and left the camp.
"You letting them go?" Mick asked. "You need to call this in, who the hell knows what Bravo's told Blackburn."
"Hayes can go to hell." Beau said. "I don't care what the hell he puts in his report."
"Spenser is still missing." Chase said. "We just can't leave him out there."
"So is my tooth." Bobby growled.
"Mine too." Karl added. "And we aren't." he told Chase. "Bravo can find him."
"Go with them if you want." Beau turned away. "We're done here."
"Are you heading back down?" Mick asked. "Beau, come on. I know Hayes is a dick, but if Spenser comes back to this campsite, someone should be there."
"Then someone from Bravo should have stayed." Karl looked at Beau, he was willing to hike out. So was Bobby. But Greg looked uncertain.
"I'll call it in." Beau sighed. He didn't like Hayes, wasn't fond of anyone on Bravo, but he wouldn't turn his back on any Seal who was in need. "We'll wait here until they find the kid."
Jason had stopped but his men had gone on. "He'd better be alive when we find him, or your career's over."
"Why are you even here?" Beau spat angrily. "This is our mission! Jesus Christ, you don't know when to leave something to someone else!"
"I don't care about your mission." Jason sighed. "I told you to look out for him. I told you not to let anything happen to him. I told you he was young and stupid and still learning." he shook his head. "I let him go with you because I thought it'd be good for him to see how other teams ran. Guess he wasn't impressed."
"And he just had to call home, cry to daddy, whine about how awful camping with the big boys was."
"He called Eric to ask permission to watch the target overnight." Jason corrected. "Eric agreed twenty minutes was not long enough to decide what that camp is."
"Had Eric said no, he wouldn't have gone up there?" Karl snorted, "Not buying it."
"He's our kid." Jason said. "He obeys orders."
"You still haven't said why you're here." Bobby spoke up.
"I don't trust your boss." Jason stared Beau down, "Didn't trust him not to let the kid go high on his own. Soon as Eric told us what Spenser said, we headed out."
"All because you thought he might be on watch alone?" Karl spit blood in the dirt. Damn, now he'd have to see the dentist. God damn this fucking team.
"Wow." Beau said in disbelief. "A six hour hike, at night, in this weather because you didn't like what you thought I might not do? You're insane Hayes."
"Had we known he was missing, we would have come in by chopper, our actions sanctioned by Command, but you didn't call it in, did you?"
"Get out of here." Beau retorted. "Get out of my face, just go the fuck away."
"Roger that." Jason said softly and melted away.
"Go!" Beau waved Mick on. Did Hayes really believe he'd leave that kid out there without attempting to find him? Not do everything he could to get him back? Okay, yeah, Bravo had arrived right when it was sinking in Charlie had nearly been killed in their sleep, but come on, they would have re-grouped and gone after the kid. And no, no they wouldn't abandon the campsite because yes, he knew if Clay managed to escape on his own, that is where he would return.
Mick nodded, and with Chase, set out after Bravo.
()
"Rain poncho." Ray said. "Thermos, peanut butter granola bars, yeah, I'd say he was gonna watch for several hours."
"Saw movement, moved to site in on Charlie." Brock said. He looked up, shook his head. "She jumped him from the trees." He picked up a knife, flung far aside. "This what she stabbed him with?"
Trent took the knife from Brock. "He wasn't stabbed." He announced. "Not with this anyway, or he'd be dead. This would have gutted him. Sharp as shit."
Mick looked at Chase.
"Never said he was stabbed." Mick objected. "That was the conclusion you jumped to. I said knife wounds."
"She slashed him." Trent agreed, not at all miffed to be corrected over his original mistaken assumption. In fact, it made him happy. "Thigh not as deep because of his pants, got it." He tucked the knife into his backpack. So slash versus stabbed meant less chance of muscle or tendon damage, which meant Clay was in better shape then he'd thought after hearing the list of their kid's injuries.
Chase looked at Mick, who shrugged. Both had expected another temper explosion from someone, but since apparently Trent wasn't concerned, neither was anyone else. Mick kept it to himself, but he was impressed how Trent had reasoned out Clay's wounds just by seeing the knife. What kind of medic was he? Oh right, wait, he wasn't a medic.
Bravo went flat in the grass. All five propped up their elbows and watched the camp below throw night vision binoculars, called out what they saw: the number of buildings, no farm equipment, few animals – cows, several horses, a pig, a goat, chickens, no roads in or out, lack of generator, no sign of antenna's or evidence of any source of communication, barn big enough to house ATV's. They all agreed; the amateur made camp was completely off grid.
"How do you think they communicate?"
"Sat phone?"
"No way to charge it."
"Homing pigeon." Sonny pushed up. "Who the fuck cares? Not our problem, not our mission. I see no movement. I say, we go in. They got him, it would be one of those three sheds."
"Agreed." Ray said. "Wouldn't take him to one of the houses."
"Not really a house." Trent muttered. "Or a shed."
"Split into three." Jason said. "Trent, Brock, the middle. Ray, with me on the left, Sonny, babysit dumb and dumber on the right. In and out, got me? We're only looking for the kid."
Since Bravo had arrived, Mick had not seen anyone connect to comms. With them being all dressed in black, he couldn't see the communication sets and began to wonder if they even had them with them. Wouldn't surprise him if they didn't, they weren't out here on an official mission. Then again, they hadn't been out of one another's sight either and they had more than one sat phone...no, they had them, he'd bet on it. Jason Hayes would never willingly separate from command or Eric Blackburn.
With the motion of one black-gloved hand, Jason gave the order to go and four Bravo oozed away into the night.
Sonny didn't wait for Mick or Chase, just silently slithered his way down the hill, crossed the clearing, kept to the shadows of various buildings until he reached his destination and slipped inside without making a noise. By the time Mick and Chase followed, Sonny had disappeared from sight.
"Boss." Sonny whispered, keying in. "You're gonna wanna come see this."
They both turned around to see that Sonny had climbed the rickety ladder into the loft and stood staring down at a spilled bag of feed. Chase looked at Mick who shrugged. See what?
Mick crept forward, rounded the bags of feed and saw what had Sonny calling for his boss. An unconscious man, hog-tied and gagged.
Trent and Brock arrived first. Trent knelt beside the man, felt for a pulse.
"He's alive."
"Clay was here." Brock fist-bumped Sonny. "Think he got loose?"
"Wanna say I'm happy he did, but then wish he hadn't." Sonny sighed. "Now, he's out there in the dark and we have to spend more time in this damn rain tracking his ass."
"It's nearly dawn." Chase said. "Wouldn't he head back to our campsite?"
Sonny harrumphed. "Does he have reason to believe you wouldn't have up and left him?"
"Oh, Fuck You!" Mick snarled. "You are a fucking ass."
Jason and Ray joined them, reported the same that Brock and Trent had, they'd found nothing and seen no one.
"Look what we found." Sonny jerked his head toward the bound man. "Alive."
Ray sighed, looking at Trent, who met his gaze and shook his head.
"He's not here Ray, if he got free, he ran." Trent shrugged, hands out. "He doesn't know we're here."
"And if he did?" Mick demanded. "That makes a difference?"
"If he knew we were five minutes away from where he was taken, he'd wait here for us to come get him." Jason rubbed his hands through his hair. "He thinks he's on his own."
"He'd head back to Charlie." Brock said. "If he could."
"Why couldn't he?" Chase asked.
"He's cold, he's hurt, and we don't know what they might have done to him." Trent said, slicing through the binds on the captive's feet. "They haven't had him long, but that doesn't mean they didn't hurt him."
"You two take him back to your campsite." Jason ordered as Ray nudged and toed the man to bring him around. "See what you can get out of him. Sonny, go with Trent and Brock, trek up the hill. Ray and I will take the cliff."
Sonny and Brock hauled the groggy man to his feet and handed him off to Chase.
Trent nodded but hesitated. "Uh Boss, remember, he's probably disoriented. Fuzzy-headed with a headache. May or may not be confused from the Lidocaine. No, it wasn't a lot or a strong doze, but he's in pain and muddled from morphine, he could be anywhere."
"Find him." Jason ordered. "Do what you have to."
"Any means?" Sonny questioned.
"Don't get killed." Jason replied.
Whatever that was all about, Mick shrugged. Bravo speak. Eh. "Where's your wonder dog?" he asked sarcastically. "He-who-can-track-anyone."
"Anyone on Bravo." Brock corrected. "We need him, Eric will fly in with him."
"Fly?" Chase echoed. "Wait, you didn't bring him?"
"Have you seen him?" Sonny shook his head. Dumb, dumb, dumb.
Ray shook his head. "Be careful, the woman is out here somewhere and she probably isn't alone. Someone carried Clay from your campsite."
***000***
Clay woke up gradually. The first few times he became slightly conscious, he was confused and disoriented, unaware of where he was or what had happened and he just passed out again. But each time he came around, he became more aware, more alert, knew more and finally, blinked his eyes open to sight, sound and smell, even if it was all somewhat muted.
It wasn't all that dark anymore.
He was cold.
He was wet – no, damp – make that wet.
He was flat on his belly.
His shoulders hurt.
His belly hurt.
His thighs hurt, his right more than his left.
His head hurt. Hurt so much, he didn't dare move it.
Felt if he tried to move, he'd puke. Been there. Done that before so many times. Didn't want to do it now.
He was wearing boxer briefs and a black t-shirt.
At first he panicked, unable to think why he wouldn't be wearing his pants…..or his boots, but then he remembered Bobby helping him out of his pants, Karl his boots. He took a chance and wiggled his toes. He still wore his socks, Lisa would be proud!
Right, socks that when wet, were itchy and slippery and hadn't gripped the wet grass on the opposite side of the ditch he'd tried to jump.
Ow! Oh, ugh…..great. Right, staples. Yeech. Oh, and his head…ow. Must have whacked it - again.
A tough situation and he had to depend on Charlie to come to his rescue.
He picked his head up, bit his lip against the rush of vertigo, waited for his head to clear, laid it back down when it didn't. Yeah, he wasn't moving anytime soon. At most, if he puked, he might be able to roll over away from it, but yeah, even that didn't look promising.
"Why'd you miss returning to transport Spenser?" He mimicked Eric's voice.
"Oh, was just, you know, lying around."
"Why'd you let that chic stab you?" Now he imitated Sonny's drawl. "Didn't I teach you better? You don't hesitate, you knock the bitch out."
"Trying to ensure future generations of Spensers."
"Didn't I tell you not to let them give you anything?" He copied Trent's dry tone. "The hell Spenser! You go and get hurt and it's not the injury I gotta worry about!"
"Oh you know, head split open from a rock is all. See? I got's an owie."
"Spenser, what did I tell you about watching over your head?" He said in his best Jason voice.
"Kinda was, you know, trying to save Charlie, Boss."
He should get up, figure out where he was, how to get back to Charlie's camp, hope they hadn't left without him. It was dawn, he was going to miss returning to transport with Charlie. Eric would have a fit, but his head hurt and he didn't feel good and he really, really, didn't feel up to a six-hour hike. He'd sleep a bit, arrive a little late, no big deal, right?
He frowned, he was thinking about…what again? Ow, don't do that Clay, hurts to move your face, remember that. Don't even blink or sniff, let your nose run. Yeah, just go back to sleep…...no one here to stop you.
His last thought was he wanted it to be Bravo who came after him, found him, not Charlie.
()
"Bravo One, anything?" Eric asked. He and Lisa were impatient, last hearing from Jason when Jason had keyed in to advise him that Charlie had 'misplaced their kid' and they intended to go into Charlie's camp 'guns blazing'.
"On his trail." Ray replied. "We clear?"
"Affirmative." Eric answered. "Just me and Davis on this line. Speak freely."
"Got one from the target camp alive," Jason added. "Left him in care of Charlie, five didn't make it."
"How many unaccounted for?"
"At least one female."
"Not just a farm?" Davis asked.
"Not just a farm." Ray confirmed.
"Charlie team?" Eric asked.
"Missing a couple of teeth, bruised. All good." Ray answered. "Beau should call in."
"Are you going to need retrieval?"
"Keep 'em on stand-by." Trent joined the conversation. "No idea what condition he'll be in when he find him."
"Is there reason to believe he's injured?" Davis asked, looking at Eric who was already nodding.
"He was injured before they lost him." Jason answered. "Cut the chatter. One out."
()
Clay stirred, coming awake at the cold rain that raised goosebumps on his skin. He'd only been out mere minutes, but he had no way of knowing that.
It, his head, hurt – he hurt – and his ability to think, to concentrate, to tell time, to know how to do what he knew had to be done was just beyond his mental reach. He couldn't stay where he was, but he didn't know why or what to do about it. That it was cold and daylight and he was out in the open, wet and exposed just didn't mean anything to him.
He knew he had to return to Charlie's campsite even if he didn't expect them to be there, and he knew where it was, it was that way, no…that way, maybe over there…..shit. He moved his hands, they were over his head and resisted. He inched his head just enough he could look up, brought his hands into line with his vision, oh, look at that…..that was a rope, his hands were…tied?….god-damn Sonny Quinn! If that sonofabitch had put Clay's hands in a bowl of warm water…
He drifted off, snippets of memories crowding his thoughts; he was outside, it was dark, Beau was an ass, he was lying on his belly with binoculars, watching, no wonder Jason didn't respect or like Beau…..he was hanging on a hook, the damn blonde - never again would he hesitate because his attacker was female, someone slapped him…..he was cold, shivering….and that hurt…..made his teeth chatter, which made his head ache, which made him hear things.
"GOD DAMMIT SPENSER! I KNOW YOU'RE OUT HERE! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?! CLAY! DON'T MAKE ME COME AFTER YOU! YOU WON'T LIKE ME IF I HAVE TO FIND YOU?"
Because that sure as hell sounded like Trent…...
One more to go!