Chapter 1- Not In Chicago Anymore
Well, it appears my answer has been found…for now. We all know what has happened in reality, Jay Halstead is no longer with us on a weekly basis. He's off, trekking across South America having a whale of a time with the most sinister of characters. So the question came to me on the final pages of AA: would I continue the tales of a beloved character that has essentially had his final breaths broadcasted for all the world to see? And so I thought, and pondered, and stood still in many a showers and truly mulled things over. I was okay with ending things the way I had. AA was complete. It was a story I was truly proud of and just so happened to wrap right around the same time as 1003. Just as our incredible king had to say farewell, I too was okay with bidding a bittersweet farewell to a character and show that has impacted my life for the better forever.
And then I was driving home from work one day…and as all great ideas happen, it was in the least creative and monumental way that the idea for this story came to me. When The Party's Over, this particular rendition sung by Penatonix, came on as I was slamming to a halt at a red light. It all fit so well, the idea a little crazy, perhaps stretching reality just a tad, but it worked. So my dear readers, consider this one my swan song. Unless fate and creation inspires me once more. As a king put it 'I left it all out there for this one.' The cleats on the field, being the last to shut the lights off on the court, we're doing this one more time. Because at some point, good things must come to an end. The party must eventually be over. This is Blinding Lights, a tribute and dedication to the character that deserves a statue at the fictional 21st district, or at least a plaque in the character Hall of Fame one day. Let's saddle up and get this final march going one last time. I love you Jay Halstead…and the man that brought him to life perfectly and magnificently; never letting up till the curtain closed.
It was a very perfect crescendo of life and timing and music all coordinating to align at one single point. Because in the timespan of a single piano chord Jay Halstead went from passed out, AirPods blaring whatever Apple Music he put himself to sleep with, to quite literally going airborne as the plane harshly and abruptly touched down. For real Jay swore he felt air race under his ass as he sat up in his semi-relaxed position, doing his very best to not head butt the back of the seat in front of him. As the music kept playing and the plane was using every inch of the battered runway to stop propelling forward, Jay's toes, heels, arms were doing their very best to keep him right where he was. Any slip of the muscle tenseness and there was going to be a human outline on the back of the seat in front of him. It had been a minute since Jay traveled internationally, but boy was he missing the massive smooth runways of America. He swore he felt potholes under the planes as it continued to be in a control skid to the very end, Jay grunting to himself as he prayed for things to come to a halt.
There ain't no gold in this river. That I've been washing my hands in forever. I know there is hope in these waters. But I can't bring myself to swim when I am drowning in this silence. Let me in.
"What the hell," Jay spoke quietly to himself, fumbling in his lap for the phone to shut things off. He was listening to Adele, something that needed to be added to some kind of history book, because rare was the moment Jay Halstead was listening to anything outside of a white noise soundtrack for sleep and 80s rock for alertness. Face beet red now, properly putting the whole picture into his mind—Jay passed out and mouth slightly agape before flying out of his seat completely unaware that land was millimeters under him, all while Adele was singing for things to go easy on her—and having himself a bit of a chuckle. It had been a very long day of traveling, tail ending a very long and tiring and emotional last couple of days. Everything about his life that he knew for close to a decade was gone, vanished, nothing to be the same ever again. The Chicago police department was in his immediate rearview, his boss and coworkers and every one that he knew some 4,200 miles away, not too mention he left his wife of less than a year to deal with the trauma and aftermath of his abrupt departure. What the hell, he even left his beloved vehicle parked at O'Hare, Hailey at some point having to deal with all of that. To those looking into the situation and knowing Jay, they'd have thought he was having a mid life crisis. Because who in their right mind gives up second in command, soon to be leader of Intelligence, to dive headfirst into many worlds of unknowns. But Jay was quick to stand by his decision. He had to leave. He had to make a change, a very drastic one. Because he really did feel like he was drowning there. Swimming in the deep and eternal waters of the grey area, Jay was losing himself by the swim stroke. His moral compass was just about sunk, knowing right from wrong and up from down was becoming harder and harder, he quite literally was drowning in his current life. So the life raft of this mission came at the opportune time and Jay saw no other choice but to save himself. He had to, because he wasn't going to survive much longer doing things the way he was. So without second thought he grabbed hold of that proverbial life ring, packed whatever basic necessities he could, and hauled off to part unknown. Ironically it was going back to the very place he was trying to run away from. After years of therapy and rebuilding and distance, he was quite literally racing back into the arms of the very thing that scared him. Funny how life works that way. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so hard on Mouse when his return time came calling. Again, the irony of life never ceases to abound. But as Adele crooned and swooned into the chorus of 'Easy On Me,' Jay finally turned the music off, removing an AirPod one at a time as the crackling sounds of the dated plane's intercom came to life.
"Woo! We have made it! Welcome to Bolivia everyone. It's a balmy 60 degrees out there with humidity but a whisper. Don't forget to don a jacket. Be careful going down the steps." Ah, yet more of former life Jay was missing. For starters this plane had seen better days. All rows two wide and barely big enough for one normal sized American. The plane from O'Hare to Sao Paulo was a big, massive, cozy international sized aircraft. They had the deep rows, the reclining seats, the food, the legroom big enough for Jay to truly stretch himself out. All that came to a very quick and blissful end when the time came to switch flights for the final leg of the journey. Jay traded in the 21st century for the early 1980s, the plane rattling and shaking and smelling so fragile and old that for the first time in his life Jay was terrified to take off from an airport. Thus the reason for the Apple Music playlist, and then the falling asleep state. If he was going to die while in the air, he didn't want to be fully aware of those precious final seconds. So as he gathered his bag from the overhead storage and waited for the impatient passengers hovering in the aisle to start moving, Jay gathered his thoughts, his will power, and ignored the oncoming exhaustion. He was finally in the right country, a few more things had to line up before he crashed onto a bed-like surface. Which speaking of, where that place was and how he was going to get there was still very much a mystery. He had instructions to locate an older red Range Rover in the carpool lane outside door 2 of the international terminal. Everything else was a complete mystery. Ah yes, the mystery of Army life. Jay had somehow forgotten this whole side of life, but in a flash was totally comfortable with it all.
It took about half a millisecond to realize he was not in Chicago anymore. For starters, they were exiting the plane at the end of the runway. There was no gate, there was no ramp connecting passengers from the plane to the terminal they were supposed to arrive at. Quite literally the pilot had parked the plane off the side of a working runway, luckily step were provided for them to exit. Jay's rather tired and delirious mind was half assuming the inflatable ramps that were motioned to during taxing was going to be their mode of exit, so he was thankful to see the near ninety degree drop down to solid ground. From there it was a scavenger hunt in finding the way to the airport. Funny, when Jay purchased this ticket it didn't mention the trip was going to be 4,199.5 miles of flying, 0.5 miles of walking. Jay chuckled to himself, hoisting his bag further up his shoulder as he followed the also lost and head scratching tourist off the plane and trying to find the terminal without being crushed by incoming planes. Seriously a couple times they had to hold up between runways so that a plane could just barely brush Jay's head and land just passed them. Jay was hating that he was the tallest one in the bunch. But worry not, ten minutes later people were ushering them into the airport, their rather glum and dejected faces coupled with half assed arm motions for them to come in were a perfect introduction to what lay on the other side of the doors.
The terminal was packed, absolutely crammed in with people, none of them looking happy to be there. None of them being any kind of tourist attraction for why one should come to Bolivia. Jay had seen gates maxed out before, just try flying anywhere the day before Thanksgiving. But this was that times ten. There wasn't a seat left for the taking, people were sardined into walkways and smooshed into walls and available standing spots, it appeared the entire country was trying to get out of there. But what struck Jay the most was how exhausted and over life everyone seemed to be. There was just a vibe of tiredness in the air. Despite the airport being so crammed, there wasn't that much sound. There was the occasional cry of a child or the loud talker on a cell phone, but for the most part the people were in depressed silence. They looked like they were on the final moments of life, of willpower, to make any sense of their life. They were just existing, just trying to get through their days and overall life. It was so sad, so heartbreaking. This was his first true visual confirmation of both how depressed and rundown life in downturned countries was and how thankful he was to be from a place where this kind of mentality wasn't a norm. In an instant he didn't care about all the troubles and differences he went through to get here. He now had a mission, a purpose for being here. He had to help these people out, rid them of the bad so that some form of hope and joy returned to this region. Ultimately he was going to be tracking down drug rings that were bleeding into the United States, but as a good side effect was that he was going to be helping these people out. While true change was going to come by way of government change and judicial overhaul, perhaps if the drug trade wasn't so inundated in these people's lives, what could fill the void of the bad was some form of good. But who was Jay kidding, he was one man in a very unknown country stationed here for a few months. The reality was that he wasn't going to be the change they all needed, but man was his heart so burdened and convicted that it alone could make the impossible happen. Jay kept his head down, ceasing his quick scan of the world around him, doing his best to not draw attention to himself. Which was going to be hard given the fact he was the tallest, palest guy in the whole building. Even despite having his usual, good, late summer tan, he looked like he'd been inside all summer compared to the people around him. Again, more evidence of a very dejected, rough, hard working country. Rare was the break from the sun and even rarer was a break altogether. Furthermore, Jay's choice in baggage was yet another ironic thing. He was entering the country on the United States Army's authority, but he had a whole cover that he had to keep in tact. So the choice of a camo bag, something that was supposed to camouflage things, was standing out like a sore thumb. Jay pulled the black ball cap further down his head, keeping his head tucked in as best he could as he continued to weave around the hordes of people. He could feel the stares at the bag, him, his very beat up face, and knew he was drawing attention. Most likely it was just bored individuals people watching as they waited to board their flight, but there was always a chance a watchdog for the cartels was out there. A cartel member whose sole purpose was to spot the potential targets and follow them. The thought of that made Jay pick up his pace a little, weave some more through people and never stay right in the middle of aisle. It was all coming back to him, those little tricks and tips that he learned so long ago. It worked for the sandbox of the Middle East, it was going to work for the mountains and rainforests of South America. His weaving and blending came to a halt when he arrived at customs. Here came the first test of many while on this little mission of his.
"Hey," Jay calmly spoke to the customs agent, nodding a little as he handed his passport under the glass wall, watching on as the yawning agent grabbed his little black book and scanned Jay. He was still going under his real name, but the cover story was going to be very different. In the event something happened and he had to get out of the country fast, the U.S. government needed to be able to properly identify him and confirm that he was a true citizen.
"Hat," the agent was quick to bark at Jay, so fast and with such a thick accent that at first Jay was dumbfounded over what was said. The agent called for the hat again, motioning to Jay's head. More sighing and slight laugh of embarrassment as Jay took the ball cap off his head. He could feel the agent's eyes lock in on his face.
"Got the bad end of an angry woman," Jay was quick to lie, which the agent totally bought. His face broke out in a very fast, Cheshire grin, body shaking as he chuckled at Jay's comment.
"Don't cross an angry bitch," the agent graveled, Jay jokingly rolling his eyes before returning the hat to it's rightful place.
"What brings you to Bolivia?"
"Photography. I'm a wildlife photographer."
"Who are you with," the man immediately fired back?
"Pretty much freelance at the moment," Jay returned without hesitation. He had a backstory for his backstory. Now the Intelligence knowledge was saving his butt. The man stared him down once more, looking for a quiver, a miscalculation, anything to not allow Jay into his drug riddle country. Jay didn't bat an eyelash. Winning the battle, Jay internally smiled as he watched the agent stamp his passport before thrusting it back under the glass window.
"Welcome to Bolivia my friend. Try and stay out of trouble with the ladies. Bolivian women are worse than the American ones." Jay put on his best fake yet genuine laugh, nodding as he returned the passport to the side pocket of his bag.
"Thanks for the advice," he bid farewell with, not looking back as he walked past the signs about leaving a safe zone, a bit ironic given where he was. He did his very best to keep his pace calm, normal, again not trying to gain a tail or curious onlooker as he walked out the exit he was instructed to, clocking the Range Rover just as the second set of sliding doors allowed him into the free country in front of him. Jay didn't wave at the driver, calmly opened the back right passenger door, tossed his bag into the empty set before closing the door and letting himself into the front passenger seat. Luckily the airport was crammed with more people, even more cars, and the sound of a thousand whistled cops waving people through the extra busy airport drop-off lanes. It wasn't till he closed his door did the Range Rover fire up and the driver finally make verbal contact.
"Jay Halstead?"
"Yeah," he spoke while trying to buckle himself in.
"Welcome to Bolivia. Hope the flight wasn't too bad."
"Nah, it was fine," Jay half lied. He watched as the assumed kid filed into one of the glacial paced exit lanes, keeping his eyes glued to the rearview mirror. Jay guessed he wasn't much older than 22, 23 at the oldest. Most likely this kid was fresh out of boot camp, one of the federal intelligence academies and got stuck with the dignified task of assistant to the station leader: him. Was this his first person that was under his wing? Jay was only just beginning to feel the weight of true leadership. There was no safety net, there wasn't anyone else to answer to. The missions all went through him and all results, good or bad, were on his shoulders. Oh yeah, the adrenaline and mild anxiety was kicking in now.
"You need anything for the sickness," the spry kid asked in a rather hurried way? Jay was caught off guard by that one.
"Sickness?"
"Yeah, the altitude." Well that made his mild out of breath state make a little more sense. Jay was thinking it was the jet lag.
"Uh, no. I'm good," he answered.
"Okay, well that might change by the time we get there," the kid answered as they finally cleared the airport and were really picking up speed now. They were in basically pitch blackness, not a street light or highway billboard or even city light to guide them along the highway. Jay felt like they were traveling blind.
"What do you mean by change," Jay asked as the kid veered into the left hand lane with great precision and speed. Now he was convinced this kid was some test driver for Lamborghini who was on loan from Italy.
"Oh, you'll see," he practically gritted through his teeth as they slammed on the brakes to avoid a rather slow driver. Jay nodded through closed eyes. In all his years, Jay would never dream of wanting to slow down. But here he was, once again living in the irony that was life.
…
The ride from hell came to a merciful conclusion some two hours after it began, by the time they arrived at their final destination Jay was seconds from leaping out of that passenger seat and willing to use the stars as navigation for the remainder of the trip. The reason this car ride was one of the worst he'd ever experienced, even worse than that one summer trip from Chicago to the Florida Keys in the backseat of their parents air conditioning-less car, was the great speed and peril they endured between the airport and Jay's new home. Young stunt driver decided it would be splendid to turn off the already reckless and high speed and road rule-less route that was Bolivian highways and instead, allow Jay to discover a new life fear. When you have a moment, Google 'Death Road Bolivia' and there you will find information on what was coined for decades as the most dangerous road in the world. North Yungas road is a 43 mile stretch of road nestled on the quite literally cliffs' edges in part of the Andes mountain range. It is a gravel road, dug out by humans in the early 1930s as a connection between La Paz and Coroico during the Chaco War. There are no guardrails, there are no lights, and at it's widest the road is barely ten feet across, but still by some miracle operates as a two lane road. For decades drivers would tumble to their demise on this horrific road, earning the nickname 'death road.' For you see, on top of the other facts already given, drivers had to deal with fog, mudslides, and an ever crumbling road surface as nature and weather battered the road relentlessly. So if the weather didn't get you sliding down the sheer, half mile drop offs at some places, it would be the insane drivers coming at or behind you that have you meeting your end date before one realized. Now see, we are able to look all this information up and come to a very quick conclusion that one would never venture on this road, but poor Jay in his hastily planned adventure didn't even know of this road's existence, let alone to avoid it at night, especially as they plowed right into the heart of a serious thunderstorm.
Jay was convinced his knuckles would be permanently locked in the clenching position around the passenger seat's arm rest, his breathing grower more and more difficult by the sharp switchback turns. But the kid next to him chugged right along, going way faster then any driving instructor would allow and certainly much faster than any approved speed limit, which appeared to not exist in this country. The only good thing about this trip was that it was done in the dark, which didn't allow Jay to see just how high up they were or how close they got to plummeting to their death. Prior to this road trip Jay didn't have a fear of heights, but as they got further and deeper into the journey the completely black abyss to his right was putting all hairs on high alert and his stomach no longer growling, instead seeming to be inching further up his throat as they keep careening along. Jay didn't dare say anything to the kid, let alone ask him to slow down. Because as is the case with all men who gather together, they had to be the toughest, most nonchalant one out of the lot. So internally Jay was dying, externally he did his very best to not look like he was shitting his pants.
"And here we are," the kid announced as the Ranger Rover screeched to a halt, Jay finally allowing himself to exhale, not even aware he'd been holding his breath in for awhile.
"Thanks.."
"Jake," the kid spoke, finally looking over at his passenger. Jay nodded, putting his hand on the door handle and trying to get himself out of that death trip of a vehicle as fast as possible.
"You did well, Halstead," Jake grinned with an immense amount of pride and satisfaction. Jay furrowed his brow as he spoke.
"Thanks?!"
"Most of the guys ask me to slow down or freak out at the mountain road."
"My guess is that you get used to that drive," Jay said as he got out, closed his door before going to the door behind him and grabbing his bag.
"Oh, we don't use that road anymore. There's another highway nearby that's more direct and safer," Jake chuckled, slowly letting himself out of the driver's seat and stretching him arms out in tiredness. Jay just rolled his eyes, he'd forgotten all about the Army days and the newbie hazing and pranks that came with it. North Yungas road was a test without even realizing it and Jay had passed with flying colors. Jay sighed, grabbed his bag before following Jake into the house. It was a glorified cottage, a cute little stucco one story house tucked deep in the woods. In the morning he'd come to find himself on a farm, or an old dairy farm that had been abandoned before getting purchased and renovated for government operations by the Army. The point was to be out in the open but also completely obscured from the drug cartels in the area. Jay was aware that he wasn't going to be on a basecamp like the old days, but to be in a very residential, normal appearing setting was a new thing for him, and one that he was semi-glad to step into. It was hard going from civilian life back into the military world, so he was glad for this ease into things. He and Jake walked along the dirt path from the parking area to the front door, Jake opening the door first for Jay and waiting for him to walk in.
"Welcome to home for the next eight months." Jay dropped his bag, standing in silent awe at what lay on the other side of the door. Now he felt like he was in a spy thriller, with large TVs all over the place, cords and wiring and all kinds of surveillance as far as his eyes would take him, this appeared to be the central command post for the entire country, or perhaps the whole region. It well into the early hours of the morning, but people were walking all around with coffee mugs in hand as printers were printing, computers were scanning things, satellites were being positioned to better view targets. And to think this was all going to be under his command, it both scared and humbled Jay. He was ready for a leadership role, but for a couple seconds this all felt to be too much.
"Halstead," barked out of a room from way down the hall, the voice so loud and so not expected that it seriously shook Jay out of his little mindfulness moment. He went from looking up and all around to trying to locate where the voice was coming from. He clocked a very weathered, worn down middle aged man, the creases all over his clothing and dark bags under his eyes making him looking like better days, and sleep, were well behind. Jay nodded, extending a hand and the man shook him off.
"Oh no, Sergeant. There's no need for that," the man said, instead nodding his head before reaching over to help Jay with his bag.
"Oh no, I can get that," Jay spoke, but before he could grab his own bag the man handed it off to Jake who took it and ran down the hall. Jay wondered if the kid knew any other speed.
"Eric Roman, chief of station," the man spoke as Jake disappeared down the hall. Jay returned to Eric, nodding as he brushed his hands past his sides, feeling very much like he had not a clue what to do next.
"Jay Halstead, new command leader here. Thanks for working this all out last minute." Jay had not a clue if Eric played a role in any of his job placement, but that was the only thing that popped into his sleep-needed mind.
"Hey, we'll take any warm and able body at this point. Our last guy got re-stationed in Poland for that whole operation so we needed somebody fast. Luckily you flashed into the system and I knew we had to grab you before someone else did." Jay nodded, doing his best to hide the oncoming yawn, but it didn't work.
"Why don't I show you to your room?"
"Oh, I'm fine. I'd love to get familiar with the place first, meet everyone before falling asleep." Eric laughed before rolling his eye and ushering Jay down the hall.
"One thing you will learn very quickly here is that whenever a sleep moment comes along, grab it like your life depends on it…because it kind of does."
"Amen to that," Jay spoke under his breath, catching glimpses of people and things and stuff that was rather unfamiliar to him. It all was so much, so daunting, that by the time he arrived to his room he was just beginning to understand the depth and breath that was federal investigations. He was very much in the big leagues now with the big boys.
"Here you are! We'll have Jake or someone come get you if anything pops off in the night. But so far things have been quiet the last couple nights."
"Ah, calm before the storm," Jay said as he looked around the room. It was a very lackluster room, nothing more than a bed and dresser with a Mac computer set up on a very small class desk in the left corner. Jay's bag was placed on the end of the full size bed, Jay chuckling to himself as he stepped further into the room. The Army wasn't exactly known for their room decor, let alone beds big enough to fit the tall, muscular men they employed. Jay was gunna have to get used to his feet hanging off the end of the bed.
"Have a good night, Sergeant," Eric bid farewell with, slamming the door behind him. Jay now let the full yawn out, deeply stretching his arms wide before shoving the bag off the bed and onto the floor, in one single motion collapsing into the middle of the bed and nestling his head onto the surprisingly cushioned pillow. He was way too into this now to turn back, his final thoughts as he dozed off went back to Chicago, to his nice big bed and everything else that he'd left behind. He'd check in with that world in the morning. Sleep was winning out and he had to let it win. Sergeant Halstead. He had ideas or notions or considered ideas of that title one day. But never did he see himself in South America when he finally earned that title. Ah, life and it's never ending surprises. But surprisingly enough, Jay was very much at peace with how it all came about, falling asleep rather quickly and well despite being in a sea of so many unknowns. Perhaps life was also listening to Adele that day and for once, going easy on him.