Chapter 24: December's Traditions

1:50 p.m.

Somewhere outside Carbondale, PA

"Get the hell out of there!"

Mainframe, slumped against a rocky wall, raised an eyebrow and let out a half-hearted snort. "Hey guys, J.T. says we should get the hell out of there."

"Ha." Shipwreck wrinkled up his face in a wry grin, "Little late to the party."

Miller smiled. Despite the difficulties and the unfamiliarity of this assignment, he was liking this group of guys and the camaraderie that field work seemed to bring. It was making him think about his career and what he wanted for the future. Maybe life wasn't best lived behind a desk. It wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility to work with Herrera for a while. Just to get a feel for things. Looking around though, right now probably wasn't the time to make a major life decision to embark on a new career trajectory. He wouldn't abandon it outright; just file it away for a later day. For now, his focus was on the mission and bringing everyone home.

Mainframe switched his microphone on. "We kind of figured that one out." His declaration was met by a torrent of follow-ups from J.T. Mainframe looked up at the group. "J.T. wants to know if we're ok?"

"Just peachy." Shipwreck remarked while Miller held up his thumbs. Flint nodded once, leaning his head back against the cold stone. He zoned out while Mainframe discussed the next move with J.T. After they had stabilized Flint, the team had backtracked to the original fork in the tunnel. Now that they were in the clear, it was clear that the circuitous route was the best.

Mainframe inched over toward Flint, passing him the map glasses. Once Flint had them on, Mainframe began relaying J.T.'s advice. "See there, where it looks like the other tunnel ends? There's an access panel on the right into an old auxiliary shaft. That shaft takes us over an old processing room and then down into the tunnel there. The tunnel should feed us behind an office that was set up. That blinking light in the middle is Jaye's tracker."

Flint followed the electric grid, memorizing the route. He could see how Mainframe made his earlier decision. While he wasn't happy about the time lost, he'd never blame the techie. Mainframe did what he needed to do with the information at his disposal. If Flint blamed someone, which he did, it was himself. He was pressing too hard and too fast. He didn't give Mainframe time to think. In his haste to reconnect with Lady Jaye he got too sloppy. Sloppy got you killed. Flint passed the glasses back to Mainframe, nodding his approval. Closing his eyes, he tried to block out the banter of his teammates. The mention of Jaye triggered something uneasy in him. Compartmentalizing his thoughts, he was quick to pin down the expected feelings. Blame and guilt, those were obvious. Blame for his actions and guilt for the root cause. The uneasiness he felt, it wasn't that. Smile, the word smiled with you, guilt you carried alone, always alone.

Except for now. He wasn't alone, not really. Alison, he had Alison. With Alison he could share. She'd listen. She wouldn't judge. Not about this. Then why did he feel as if something was digging into his gut, rooting around to find a home? It was an indescribable thing circling around his head, fluttering on the edges of his thoughts, just there in the shadows evading focus. Something was off and it wasn't what happened. Flint rocked back and forth trying to jar the thoughts loose. What was it? What was it? He thumped a fist against his forehead. It wasn't a what; it was a who, an important who.

Alison.

Lady Jaye.

Trouble.

He knew she was in trouble. "Jaye!" His sudden outburst quieted the group and all eyes turned toward him. He had the podium. "I know this sounds crazy, but when I was out, I got the sense that something was wrong. I can't shake this feeling that something went bad for her."

While Miller gave Flint a puzzled look, Mainframe didn't question Flint's knowledge. After all, Gambit would know when something wasn't right with Rogue. Of course Flint would know when Jaye was in trouble. It was elementary. Mainframe's instinct was confirmed by more chatter from J.T. "Um, guys, more news. Jaye's not with the tracker. J.T can't get a read on exactly where she is."

"What do you mean exactly where she is?" Flint's eyes burned dark.

"Her signal's coming from a part of the mines for which J.T. doesn't have the schematics. He has a signal but not a way to get us there."

"If we find a way, can he a least tell us if we're close?" Flint pushed off the ground and started to stretch his weary muscles.

"Yeah, I'm sure he could."

"All right then, suit up everybody." Flint stood before the proverbial fork in the road. "Time to hit the road less traveled."

A shadowed figure roamed the dark, dank tunnels of the mine. Ducking every so often to avoid a jagged outcrop, he bobbed and weaved, solely focused on his destination. If the old miner had been correct, it should be close, very close. He was thankful for his run-in with that old miner. Otherwise things would be a bit more complicated. As it was, his journey was complicated enough.

Counting openings, he dragged a gloved hand along the wall until he came to number five. This was it; turn right here. He stumbled on the uneven ground. The walls narrowed and he scrapped his head on the ceiling. He clenched his fists, if that old man set him on the wrong path, he'd pay with his life. He'd make it his mission to hunt him down and feed him to the wolves. He was not a man with whom one trifled. Luckily for the old miner, after a few more steps, the tunnel gradually opened up, giving the man some relief. He didn't like confined spaces.

As he walked through the latest tunnel, he was slightly surprised that he hadn't been jumped by now. He did not wish to engage in an encounter. In fact, he had taken great pains to make sure that his presence went by unnoticed. Still, given his proximity to the operation's heart, there should be more security roaming about. "Getting soft Commander," he muttered under his breath. It was more likely that the Commander was spread too thin. The man shuddered at the images flashing in his head. The Commander had only himself to blame for his reduction in forces. It was no way to run an organization. If he hadn't the desire to make his break, this only confirmed his decision. To think, this all went on without his knowledge. The Commander was learning.

At last, he came to the door. It was a massive piece of wood sunk into the stone wall and it groaned as he pushed against it. His muscles strained as he threw his back into the endeavor, fighting for every inch. The door screeched in protest, rebelling against his command. It would show him; it would not do the one thing for which it was designed. He cursed the inanimate object as if it had personally insulted his honor. He would open this door. Dipping deep into his reserves, he gritted his teeth and placed both hands on its rough surface, spread apart, even with his shoulders. There were two subtle indentations that fit the shape of his hands perfectly. The side of his mouth raised up knowing others had come before to face against this wooden beast. He would triumph. With a barbaric grunt, he launched himself headlong and didn't stop until the door dragged along the stone, hitched once and finally swung open, slamming into the wall behind it.

The force of the impact jarred him, sending him reeling a few steps back. He was there. He was in. He narrowed his eyes, adjusting them to the din. It was a small forgotten room in a forgotten place. It no doubt once served as a place of respite for a cold drink and a bit of bread. What ever it was before was long gone. Now it was bare and unwelcoming. Accustomed to the dark, he saw what he came for.

Miller squeezed his eyes shut, praying to erase the images from his mind. That previous thought he had about joining Herrera in the field? Miller took it back, all of it. He would happily spend the rest of his remaining career up until the day of retirement sitting behind a desk if only for the chance to erase the images from his mind. The bodies, oh god, the bodies. He wanted to scream, to shriek in the most undignified way possible. He rubbed his eyes trying to scrub the images away. How did they handle it? His back was pressed up against the metal shaft, shaking, unable to retreat. And yet Flint and Mainframe were peering out the vent, taking verbal notes on the scene below.

The auxiliary shaft had indeed been the ticket to the heart of Cobra's operations. The shaft was less of a side tunnel, as Miller had pictured in his head, and more of a system of ducts, large enough to transport bins. The rails sunk into the bottom of the shaft were murder on hands and knees. Miller's palms were all scraped up and his pants were beyond saving, with the knees all ripped and caked with dirt and oil. The team crawled along, Mainframe pinpointing their location with J.T.'s guidance. J.T. wouldn't tell them what interfered with him before. He just reassured that it wasn't happening again. The shaft split and J.T. navigated the team to the left where the tunnel curved up into a steep incline. The rails served as a sort of ladder and soon the team was crawling above the ceiling, a vent here and there forecasting their infiltration of the lion's den.

Then it happened. There was a broken fan and a larger than average opening. "Oh lord," was all Mainframe choked out. Miller edged up, instantly regretting the decision. Spread out on the ground below were bodies, hundreds of bodies in various states of decay. Black plastic body bags contained some, but not all, not nearly enough for Miller. All the faces had the same agonizing look. It was fear, dismay, and the knowledge that they would never be saved. Some had visible signs of the flu, ruddy noses, sunken eyes, pale cheeks, victims of some force greater than their will. Others—that was where Miller broke down—the others controlled their end. One man still clutched the hammer in his hand covered with bits and pieces of hair and matter. Another had clumps of his hair scattered around his body and clenched in his hands. This was what Cobra did. Miller scampered away as much as he could in the confined space, grabbing his belly, willing himself not to lose his lunch.

Shipwreck pulled away from the fan grating, putting a hand on Miller's shoulder, "Work it out man. It's ok. Work it out. Think of something else. Mellow beach, hot women. Anything else."

"How do you do it?" Miller's voice came out in hurried gasps as he looked at Shipwreck with perspiration trickling down his forehead. Miller had lost all of his color. His skin was glowing in the dark.

"You just do." Shipwreck glanced over at Mainframe and Flint. "We do so that doesn't happen to anyone else." Shipwreck squeezed Miller's shoulder. "You think you'll be ok?"

Miller wiped at his forehead, knowing that his thoughts would never be clean again. He shook his head up and down, unable to speak.

Shipwreck turned back toward Flint and Mainframe, bobbing his head once.

Mainframe and Flint pulled back from the view. "Tell J.T. The FBI needs to know about this. We're close, have him call in backup. We're going to need a biohazard unit to clean this up." Flint steeled his jaw. He watched as Cobra personnel worked to stack the bodies up on pallets and covered them with tarps. They were cleaning up and soon would try to erase their tracks. This was worse than Flint could have imagined. This is what could have been. How many people did Mindbender sacrifice? It was sickening. They used their own people. Each body wore the blue uniform of the Cobra foot soldier. That nagging feeling returned. He had to get to Jaye.

Mainframe called it in and the strike team continued in silence. The stakes were so much higher now. The shaft began a rickety descent and, if J.T. was right, the main action would be just ahead. Flint unscrewed the vent and the team gathered in the space between the rock and the particleboard of Cobra's Command Center. Plastering their bodies up against the rock, they edged over in a silent mass until they came to a break in the wall. Peering through the crack, Flint counted the armed soldiers and noted their locations. No sign of Jaye. He didn't like that. He sized up flanking positions and moved Shipwreck around. Once they pushed through the wall, there would a momentary scramble for cover, and then the fight would begin. Surprise was going to see them through. Pulling out his shotgun he flashed a few hand signals and the rest of the team armed. Breathing in through his nose, Flint expelled the breath through his mouth, yelling "Now!"

Cobra didn't know what hit it. Suddenly the Command room was bathed in smoke and flashing lights, thanks to a few treats provided by Joseph. Normal grenades wouldn't do when cave-ins and flammable gases lay in wait. The team had to improvise. Although there was just four, to those present in the room, it seemed like a screaming horde of barbarian invaders was streaming over the castle walls. Shipwreck flipped a table and ducked behind it, laying down a cover of suppression fire to get Mainframe close to the computer terminals. Flint plowed down the center, his eyes locked on the Commander. If anyone knew where Jaye was, he would. He'd make the man bleed for her.

"Flint!"

Flint dropped down and rolled at the sound of Miller yelling his name. Bullets pinged in the air, drilling holes into the wall and up to the ceiling. A Cobra trooper's finger was pressing lead against the trigger.

"No, you fool!" The Commander screamed. "You'll send us all to kingdom come." The Commander pulled out his pistol and shot the trooper dead center between his eyes. The man fell backward, his gun still firing off. The shots bounced off the ceiling, spraying into the battle below.

"Damn!" Miller felt a sharp prick in his shoulder. Looking down, an unfamiliar red stain slowly began to saturate his shirt. "Well I'll be." He felt disconnected from his body, a spectator on the outside. He smirked. He was shot. The desk jockey just took a bullet. He wanted to shout it out to the world, look at me! I'm a man! He reached over, pressing the wound with his other hand. The pain jabbed back. "Ouch!" He wasn't expecting that. Although, never having been shot before, it wasn't as if he had any first hand knowledge on what it would feel like. Granted, he was an FBI agent, a special agent, and he had all the proper training. All the proper training in the world didn't come close to the actual, real world experience. It felt like a good time for a beer. He'd be damned, he was shot. He couldn't wait to tell Patterson. The battle raged around him but he remained in a protective cocoon, an impervious bubble sheltering him from further harm. Glancing up, he watched the remaining bullets soar as the fallen trooper's gun emptied out. These bullets weren't bouncing back. They were plowing into the ceiling, digging out a crack. The crack widened. Miller observed. Bits of black powder fell down, coating some of the floor. Drifting over, Miller stepped around a broken chair, crouched down and rubbed his fingers in the black. He held them up, sniffing at the substance, tasting it with his tongue. It was very familiar. A sinking feeling hit his chest, his moment of glory was over. Why did it have to be him? Why was he always the harbinger of doom? "Run, everyone! Run! Coal seam breach!" The sound of his voice echoing in his ears snapped him out of his daze. He picked up his legs and dashed over to Shipwreck, pulling at the man. "We have to get out of here. Coal is going to explode!"

"What?" Shipwreck noticed the wound. "Miller, man . . . you . . ."

Miller yanked Shipwreck to his feet. "No time, this place is going up."

Shipwreck followed the line from Miller's pointing finger to the faint orange glow gleaming from the crack in the ceiling. "Bawdy beef-witted barnacles!" Catching Flint's eye, "Run!"

The men scrambled for the exits, putting as much territory between them and the room. When the boom came, it came hard.