Chapter 23: Dashboard

1:30 p.m.

Somewhere outside Carbondale, PA

Lady Jaye had no idea where she was anymore. Actually, that was a lazy thought. She knew generally where she was—somewhere below the surface of Pennsylvania—she just didn't have the specifics anymore. It felt like Ripper and Buzzer had dragged her through an endless progression of tunnels only to dump her off in her current location. At first she tried to count their steps. If she knew how much they walked, she could have some sense of place. Her mind wasn't up to the task and the numbers slipped away. Whatever the Commander hit her with, it worked fast. Already her body alternated between intense chills and scorching heat. She cracked a smile; after this, menopause would be a cakewalk. The smile faded as she wondered if she would ever get that old, a subject on which she was starting to have an opinion. Flint's words cut to the heart of her fear; this is a young man's game we play. He was right. They weren't the new recruits anymore. They were seasoned. And with experience came something more, perspective.

The chills returned and she curled up into a ball, wrapping her arms tight around her chest. Her muscles shuddered and her teeth chattered. It was as if Ripper and Buzzer dropped her into the middle of Antarctica with nothing more than a t-shirt to keep her warm, instead of some old storage room created by the carting away of coal over the years. It was hard contemplating lasting another hour if this kept up. Each wave was more intense than the last. She wondered if it was possible for someone to shake out of his skin. This attack was a jackhammer to her brain. She clenched her teeth together, riding out the storm until, at last, the shivering subsided and she had a moment to collect her thoughts.

She rolled onto her back, starring up through the darkness, exhausted. Bruised and beaten, she returned to her previous thoughts. Sometimes thinking was the only thing that could keep you alive. Once you started to lose your thoughts, you started to lose bits of yourself. At a certain point, you stopped being. Groaning, she struggled to push herself up. It was no use, her body was wrecked. Why fight it anymore? If Flint and his team didn't find her soon, she'd probably be dead, or worse. After Buzzer tossed her inside the storage room, Ripper let out a sinister laugh, "Don't worry, we'll be back my little Sheila. And when we do, you'll pay." She believed him.

A wave of nausea hit hard. There wasn't anything left but that didn't stop her from going through the motions. She pushed back to her knees, unsteady arms trembling under the weight of holding her torso up. Her stomach felt like it was ripped raw, the bile sickeningly sweet pooling in her mouth. Spitting it out, she collapsed, knowing that the fire would soon consume her. She stretched out, hugging the ground, waiting for the inevitable. It didn't disappoint.

Her body became saturated as the fire coursed through her veins, which would only make the chills worse when they attacked. The rocks scrapping her cheek offered little comfort at this point. The darkness was descending, calling to her. She couldn't even think why she was fighting anymore. She did her part. The tracker was set. J.T. would get Flint and his team close and she knew Flint would take it from there. They'd take down this operation and stop the Commander in his tracks. That was the important part—the mission. Anything else was secondary, including her. At this point she was almost a hindrance. If Flint should find her before the Commander, would he do the right thing? Her breathing started to grow shallow and her eyelids heavy. She could make sure he did.

Come on Jaye, stay with me. She fought against the stiffness in her neck and turned her head toward the voice. There he was, his face but a few inches away, Flint. He greeted her with that lopsided grin. It used to make her cringe because it only heralded the coming of an unwanted solicitation. Now she couldn't get enough. It was like a secret code between them. She closed her eyes and felt the chill of his fingertips against her cheek as he reached across the divide. She could get lost in this. She reached out and their hands clasped in the middle.

"We've been in worst spots before."

With her hair plastered to her head and sporadic convulsions rippling through her body, Lady Jaye was hard-pressed to think of any. No, nothing came to mind. She thought that she might rather like to sleep on it. Her body relaxed into the ground, eyes rolling up toward the sky.

Flint squeezed her hand, "Jaye, stick it out." He pulled her close as he began reciting her favorite verse, "But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, and loved the sorrows of your changing face . . ."

There wasn't much left to stick it out. Jaye could feel herself slipping. It wasn't unpleasant; rather, it was like falling straight into a dream. Flint's voice carried her on a blanket of clouds.

Agent Miller's foot caught the stiff edge of something and he went careening forward, face planting into the dirt. Shit! The impact had dislodged his mask. He fumbled in the dark trying to reassert his authority over the flimsy plastic while holding his breath. He got the mask in place and swallowed a fresh breath of cool air. He felt a little lightheaded. That wasn't right. Inhaling deep, he removed the mask and found that the seal between the hose and the headgear had dislodged, allowing the outside air to seep in. He tried to pop the hose back in and succeeded in making a bad situation worse. The hose snapped back but the surrounding plastic cracked. Worthless piece of . . . He resisted the urge to throw the mask to the ground and jump on it. While that would be a satisfying feeling considering his overall helplessness, he knew that even in a broken state, the mask was still better than the alternative. He fitted the mask back on his face. Slow, shallow breaths would have to see him through.

Pushing up to his knees, Miller turned around, grabbing at the lump he had tripped over. From the solidness of the mass, it had to be Flint. In the blackness, Miller lowered his head to Flint's chest, listening for anything that would signal life. His heart was still beating and there was a faint rattle of life struggling in his chest. Miller latched onto that, pushing and heaving the man over to his side, feeling around the outside of his pack for his self rescuer. It wasn't there. Miller panicked. Did it fall off somewhere? Maybe Flint stuck the mask in his pack even though the men were cautioned to keep it readily accessible? Miller zipped open Flint's pack, rummaging around, trying to locate the equipment. A spasm went through Flint's body. The tattletale rasp of Flint's breathing faded. Miller reached back and slammed his fists down into Flint's chest. "Keep breathing!"

Miller felt a tug at his shoulder; it was Shipwreck supporting a woozy Mainframe. Shipwreck pressed a button on the side of his mask and his muffled voice filled the space. "Mainframe's ok. What about boss man?"

Miller couldn't risk expelling any of the good air. He swiped his hand against his throat and pointed to his mask while shaking his head.

Luckily Shipwreck was a quick study and nodded once. Lowering Mainframe to the ground, he breathed in and detached his mask, stretching it toward Miller. Miller grabbed it and thrust it over Flint's mouth, praying he wasn't too late.

"Mr. Hill, it seems you're in a bit of a predicament."

"Well Charles, I reckon it might be more than a bit."

Charles chuckled. "I suppose you're right." He prodded J.T. with his gun. "When can we expect the full contingent?"

"Oww, dang nab it." J.T. forgot himself and reached down to rub the sore spot on the back of his head.

"Tsk tsk Mr. Hill." Charles rapped J.T.'s knuckles with the barrel, "Hands where I can see them."

"Owww, man!" J.T. grimaced as pain radiated across his hand. "This would be a lot easier if we could talk man to man. I mean, if you're gonna take me out, I'd prefer to look you in the eyes."

"Man to man?"

"Yeah, none of this pussy footing around."

"Point taken Mr. Hill. I will respect that. Turn around nice and slow."

J.T. shuffled his feet along in a half circle until he was finally face to face with Charles. He gasped. It wasn't Charles.

"Come on, breathe. Breathe!" Miller pressed Shipwreck's mask against Flint's face, keeping a nervous eye on the sailor, ready to hand it back should Shipwreck show any signs of dropping. So far so good for him, but not so good for Flint. Mainframe had managed to come around. Propped up against a boulder, Mainframe squeezed himself next to Flint, ready to make the switch. The light from the screen on Mainframe's wrist cast a greenish glow on the proceedings. Every few seconds it would black out and the group would be pitched back into the void, their insides tensing up until Mainframe brought the light once more.

Shipwreck tapped Miller's shoulder and Miller passed the mask back while Mainframe placed his upon Flint's face. Unfortunately Mainframe still wasn't up to fighting speed. He lasted only enough time for Shipwreck to take a few drags off the mask before giving it over to Flint. Miller sensed that Flint, while physically present, wasn't really with them. He needed to be dragged back screaming and kicking from wherever he had retreated in the fog. Given the condition of the group, Miller couldn't chance moving Flint until he could offer some assistance no matter how feeble. Mainframe was still pretty weak and Shipwreck was running on reserves. His cracked mask put him at a disadvantage. He knew the military had a name for this type of situation. He'd have to ask them when all was said and done.

"St . . . ay . . ." Flint's mumbling took shape.

Miller leaned close to his ear. "Come on buddy, give up the ghost, concentrate."

Flint mumbled a few more words that Miller couldn't make out. Then, without warning, Flint's eyes snapped open as he sucked in a great huff of air. Flint didn't register where he was and his arms flailed about as he tried to push the mask away from his face. He bucked against Miller's reassuring hands. Shipwreck threw himself on to Flint, pinning the man's arms to his side. He couldn't wait to tease Flint about this one. Oh, the fun he would have. Flint wiggled his body about, but Mainframe got in his face. "Easy Flint. You're with us. We hit black damp. You passed out. Breathe through the mask. Relax. You're ok."

Mainframe nudged Miller aside and, holding the mask in place on Flint's face, pointed to his. "Just breathe. In and out, relax." Flint nodded his head, eyes still wide. "Good, just like you're doing." Shipwreck flapped an arm out. "OK, we need to switch masks. We can't find yours. Here, take mine in 3, 2, 1." Shipwreck grabbed his mask as Flint started to inhale. Flint began to choke on the sudden absence of air. Mainframe was there, slipping his mask over Flint's mouth and nose even though he didn't have enough time to get his lungs prepared. He would hold on though. Mainframe would burn a lung getting Flint through this for Lady Jaye. The warrant officer probably didn't realize it, but the moment he got serious about Lady Jaye, his status rose with the geek squad. Sure Flint was an ego. If Jaye was crushing on him though, there had to be some substance behind the pageantry.

At first, Mainframe questioned his friend's sanity. How she could ever think of Flint that way was beyond him. Flint was not one of them; Flint was the cool kid. Not to say Jaye wasn't one herself. She was. She was also one of them. She made an effort to get to know Mainframe, and the rest of the geek squad, on their home turf. Namely, that meant suffering through their bi-monthly RPG nights to play the token female part. Sometimes you had to blow off steam. Mainframe, Dialtone, Tripwire, and Scoop found a shared hobby in Dungeons & Dragons. Once they started, other closet geeks soon joined the fray. Who knew that Chuckles made a really good Dungeon Master? After a year, they had a decent sized group with people coming in and out as schedules allowed.

One night, Mainframe couldn't keep Jaye away; she just had to know what he and Ripcord were up to on a Wednesday night without her. At first, the guys were a bit embarrassed. It was like trying to woo the prom queen and she walked in on you while you were in the bathroom with your pants down around your ankles. Jaye didn't make fun. Instead, she kind of made this weird coughing sound low in her throat, nodded her head once, and declared she was game. Once she was in, she was in. Mainframe forgot what a great actress she was. She could bring any woods to life as the elven queen. For Christmas just last year, she had commissioned new figures for all the fellows.

Lady Jaye was one of them so the whole Flint thing was kind of out of left field. Mainframe could see the attraction. He was a good-looking guy with a lot of charisma. Still, the fact that he let you know that he knew he was good-looking guy should have been enough to turn off Jaye. Sure, she acted like she couldn't stand the man. Mainframe knew better. Her casual mentions of him started increasing and he and Ripcord knew; she was hooked. Mainframe likened the whole potential relationship to Gambit and Rogue. It was just something that was meant to be. Dialtone disagreed as a matter of principle; he was a DC man and wouldn't get near an X-Men title. Whatever the case, the guys all felt that they owed it to her to keep tabs on Flint and ensure his well-being. While Flint may not know it, he was a full-fledged member of the geek squad now.

As a secret member of the geek squad, Mainframe would get him through. Maintaining eye contact, Mainframe held his mask against Flint's face despite the burning sensation in his own lungs. Mainframe felt like he was going to pass out and his head wobbled a bit. Miller stepped in, handing his own mask to Mainframe. Soon it almost became a joke of who was on first with whose mask as the connecting hoses tangled into a misshapen mess. Flint was coming around and he reached up, grabbing Mainframe's hand in a strong grip. No words needed to be said. The gratitude in Flint's eyes was enough.

J.T. blinked a few times, trying to focus and reconcile the image before him. It was Charles but it wasn't. The voice was Charles, but the face, J.T. didn't know what the face was. The man standing before him didn't really have a face. It kept morphing and changing so that J.T. didn't have a good read. All the better for him to slip away. J.T. had to admire that.

Up to that point, it had been a fairly overcast day, with the clouds hanging low, blanketing the sky. The weather patterns were changing and a slight breeze kicked up, blowing softly against J.T.'s face, rustling the strands of hair on his head. Though only faint, it was enough to push the clouds along their path and open up a patch of sky for the sunlight to stream through. This unexpected light hit Charles straight in the face and he raised up an arm, shielding his eyes from the glare. J.T. observed dumfounded as Charles's face swirled around and dark brown triangular patches appeared around his eyes and his skin took on a bluish hue. Charles took a step back and J.T. found his opening.

Interlacing his fingers, J.T. raised his arms and then brought them down in a sharp sweep against the side of Charles's head. Charles took the full brunt of the blow, and staggered back, dazed. The breeze kicked up and the clouds seemingly departed, the light raining down like judgment. J.T. took this as a sign of divine providence and opened up on the crouching figure. Throwing his weight behind every punch, J.T. aimed for the midsection, never stopping, never retreating. He knew the moment he even so much as thought about resting, he would lose. There was something mighty strange about the man he was pummeling. J.T. had no idea what it was, only that it wasn't good. In this game, good and evil were about all J.T. had. J.T. was good; this man was evil. Good was going to triumph. J.T. kicked out, connecting a solid boot with Charles's chin. J.T. didn't wait to see what would happen. He followed through with a nose-crushing right hook. Down went Charles, blood flowing from his nose to the dusty ground.

J.T. stumbled a few steps back, leaning into the truck for support. Panting, he waited for his heart to stop racing. It had been awhile since he had to defend himself. He grinned. "Well, this here Texan still has it." It was a fleeting thought as he turned to the task at hand, flicking the switch that brought his monitors back to life with a roar. As the maps popped back up and the little dots representing the key players began to blink, J.T. did not like what he saw. Screw silence. He grabbed his microphone. "Mainframe! Back up and get the hell out of there! That tunnel's no good!"

A/N: Sorry for the delay- went on vacation. Back now and finishing up the last few chapters. Thanks for reading and for the reviews! Hope you enjoy the rest.