The Monster
Nicknames are well earned. Jack's past comes back to haunt him. The team tries to help the stubborn Jack, but will they be too late?
Survive
Somewhere in the sandbox... Mac had sweat pouring down his face like the oasis he craved. The desert was always so hot, and the fire from the explosions and gunfights only made it more unbearable. He had already abandoned his bomb suit so he could faster. A routine bomb disposal with a minimal security force. Mac did at least twelve of these a day. Every so often one would lead to a gunfight but the areas were usually swept prior to his arrival. He was not sure what happened this time however but his team was certainly out manned. He was unarmed, hiding, and waiting. Waiting for help or for his death. His ears were ringing and his eyes stung as dirt and sand were in the air. The leader of the security force grabbed him handing him his secondary piece as they were running between alleyways as the explosions followed.
"Reinforcements are on the way. No ETA!" The man yelled before falling. The man held his leg screaming. Mac dragged the man the remainder of the way catching up with the remainder of their small battered team.
"COMMs are down." Another soldier yelled. Mac struggled to apply the tourniquet with shaky hands. The door opened and they heard yelling. The battle cry of their enemy. Mac looked up and saw right down the barrel of the gun. Just as Mac thought his life would flash before his eyes the man fell. Mac saw a dirty disheveled man standing in the doorway knife in hand.
"Monster is in. I need doc." The man said taking ahold of his M4 manning the door. There were no identifying marks on his uniform. No name. No rank. Mac did not know what possessed him to stand up but he did only to be yanked down by the man at the door. "You better keep your head down, baby. Or you'll lose it." The man had a heavy southern accent.
"Forces are retreating. Let's get them," Mac heard the voice say on his friend's radio.
"Who... Who are you?" Mac asked as his hearing began to return.
"My name is Dalton. We are with the 17th SF group. I'll give you a whole bio once we are out of here." Jack said with a smile.
"There's no 17th group. Are you Delta Force?" Another soldier announced from behind Mac. Jack smiled.
"Let's go." Jack said smiling.
Jack uses the car to maintain his balance. He felt like he was standing on a boat. The waves of dizziness were hitting him harder and harder and lasting longer. He touched his sore side as he began to pump gas. Jack saw his reflection in the window and shook his head. He was beginning to look pale which only emphasized his bruises.
Jack was upset with himself for leaving his sister at the hospital with their dead mother. Seeing her brought up a lot of unpleasant memories that he tucked and buried away. No matter how many years past anytime the Dalton's got together the memories resurfaced bringing out the worst in all of them. Jack was afraid he would lash out so instead he ran, like he always has.
Jack was not sure what it was about him that made him leave anytime the going got tough but he did. The second there was an open door to leave Texas he left. After Diane's ex came back Jack lashed out nearly killing him and then left leaving Diane in shambles. He filled her head with promises only to ruin everything and then left her without a word.
Just as he finished pumping gas he heard what he thought was thunder until he saw the bikes approaching. They blocked the entranced. Jack chuckled under his breath as he discreetly took his throwaway phone out of his pocket dialing a number only to hide the phone in the fuel door. Jack turned around as the bikers began to circle him.
"Ryan couldn't see me himself." Jack chuckled as one of the bikers he saw at the bar. The man swung wildly and Jack dodged it restraining the man kneeing him several times in the ribs. Jack did his best to dodge the incoming blows but found himself quickly outnumbered. Jack had the upper hand until someone landed a cheapshot on his tender ribs. Jack guarded his ribs as they threw him against his car. Jack felt the air get pushed out of his lungs as he struggled to catch his breath. The bikers got there revenge as they pummeled Jack into submission.
"Tie him up. Bring 'em to church." The one who called the shots ordered. His name tag read Dusty. The man was big and burley with a gray beard. Jack attempted to crawl away earning a kick in the ribs from Dusty. Jack held his side as he spat out blood. The other goons tied him up and put him in the back of a pick up that joined them.
Several minutes later they spotted Jack's car at the gas station where they tracked the phone. They saw a worried crowd forming. Mac circled the vehicle seeing a huge dent on the door and a couple blood drops and smears on the ground. Mac went to the fuel door finding the phone. Mac felt his stomach drop as horrible thoughts entered his head.
"Are you with the police?" A worried woman asked.
"Kind of. Was this man here?" Bozer asked the woman showing her a photo of Jack.
"Yeah. Some bikers came and took him." She said shielding her eyes from the sun.
"Any idea where they were headed?" He asked.
"They said they were going to bring him to church?" A man chimed up behind the woman. Mac and Riley were confused as Bozer's face fell.
"Are you sure that's what they said?" Bozer asked panicked.
"What is it, Boz?" Mac asked.
"Church in the biker life isn't the house of God. According to gangland that's where the club makes the big decisions. Who lives and who dies. All the bosses come to discuss club business. It's like out war room." Bozer said passionately hoping that his friend understood how much trouble Jack was facing if he was not dead already.
Jack's in some trouble. What do you think? Please Review!