07-14-2020, 12:42 AM
(This post was last modified: 07-14-2020, 12:43 AM by Jay Carpenter.)
He pushed through the surface of the pool to a veil of pink water and a jungle sunrise that pinched his eyes red. Because it was surely sleep deprivation and stinging sunbeams that painted their bloodied color. Nothing else.
He didn’t notice the little splash until a touch turned him about. Natalie bobbed, her hair splayed a ring around her shoulders. Her eyes were red too, though he doubted for the same reason. In their center that icy blue pierced his soul, and he wondered what she saw when she looked at him. It was the question that tugged his chin upward, though. Despite his best effort, only a half-hearted smirk touched his lips as he pulled her closer with the hook at her hip. He was too tired to conjure a sarcastic remark. After a moment, he scrubbed a hand through his hair, snagging the ends to tousled shapes. Then he sunk his chin to her shoulder, burying his face in her hair.
The ache was unbearable. Or maybe it was the threshold between reality of a mission completed and blissful focus of solitary duty marking an end that came too swiftly. The heat swarmed his eyes, though no tears fell. He was too tired to cry. Too tired to remember. But with nothing else to do except hold on to the only thing that was left: the only person that saw through horror, rejected fear, and found something buried among the pile of shit that was the whole of his life.
It was the interruption of a Russian voice that shattered the globe of depressing thoughts that was his fragile brain. Jay looked up long enough to behold the outline of Scion Marveet looming above.
“Helicopter is five minutes out. Get ready,” he said, glancing at two towels abandoned on a lounge chair before disappearing inside. Jensen offered a hand, but Jay shook his head, and the preacher ventured away. They were left alone for perhaps the only minutes of peace they knew since boarding the plane in Moscow. And excluding that crash in the shitty hotel at the border.
“Skinny dipping is only worth it in the ocean,” he said, searching her face. Weariness etched deep as he cupped her shoulders, rubbing down the length of her arms, his expression soft and wishing for a time when his biggest problems were about baseball and girls. At least baseball wasn’t a problem anymore. Girls? Probably live with that for the rest of his life.
He started to kiss her, but hesitated. She was probably far from desiring affection. Farther to want it from him. After watching what he could do. Worse, watching what he didn’t do. The shock of seeing his mother was the reason they were all dead. He was in control until then. If he hadn’t froze? Seconds made the difference. If he hadn’t froze. If he hadn’t was a familiar road he walked pretty often. All the long road all the way back to that Thanksgiving when he enlisted. Might as well call it If Jay Carpenter Hadn’t Fucked Up Boulevard.
Dizziness swarmed, but all Jay did was wince and close his eyes. He wanted to sink beneath again. Instead, it was painful effort to push out of the pool, but when he did, the filth flowed away. Mostly. He grabbed his boots, which were in fact quite caked with brown and red, but they were his, slung a towel around his neck and searched the skies. About that time, a familiar sound pulsed on the air. The wind picked up, and the noise of engines lowered to the rooftop helipad. From the black beast poured a team not unlike what Jay worked in these same jungles – or close enough to them – years ago. How did Scion know? Had he arranged it? Must have.
He offered to help Natalie if she needed it and they wandered to the front of the mansion. Scion’s (formerly Zacarías’) mercenaries waited; weapons at the rest. Their team lead stood alongside Scion in the driveway as the soldiers emerged on ground level. Jay’s brows lifted to find almost fully unmarked men, but they moved with the scalpel-like precision of a team known only to Custody-trained. The noise of the helicopter purred too perfectly to be the property of clunky Americans or second-hand market.
He spoke with a small sense of reverence, explaining for Jensen and Natalie, should they listen. “They’re ZARS.” He licked his lips, having never seen them in action first hand, and fully aware of the manpower each dark shape represented. Three approached Scion, which meant one more was on watch, a pilot waited in the helicopter, which surprisingly wasn’t powering down, and another one would be at the ready. Suppose it made sense. They probably didn’t want to stick around for breakfast. Too bad. Jay was getting hungry. Or that’s what he assumed knotted his stomach horribly.
From the house, Jay and the others watched one of the private mercenaries draw Yasmine to the driveway, plunking her alongside the other mercenaries. She was worn and scraped up, as though having been caught on the run, and not treated well since being caught. It was like watching a battlefield re-enactment. Two sides facing each other. The mediator, Scion, walked forward and offered to shake hands with the Custody ZARS squad leader. Jay couldn’t hear what was said above the noise of the engines, nor did he summon the power to do so. He didn’t particularly care and was dabbing at the water on his neck when quick movement stunned him.
In swift, bloody action, the Custody special forces mowed down Amengual’s mercenaries. Yasmine fell along with them. Jay blinked but kept his jaw tight at the teeth. Those men turning on Zacarías was the reason him, Natalie and Jensen were alive. When the Custody forces glanced their way, Jay felt the power burst into existence from Jensen. He himself followed suit, but the squad leader did nothing except signal to his men to return to the helicopter.
Scion jogged over, yelling. “Unless you want to walk out of Mexico, let's go.” and waved them to follow.
Jay exchanged worried looks with Jensen, who seemed to be considering the offer before both dropped the power. With a dry swallow, he told them to go ahead. Their work was done. No loose ends. ”I’ll be right behind you,” he turned and went inside.
Several minutes later, he returned, tequila bottle tucked under each arm, obviously taking longer to account for simply walking in and stealing two bottles. When the helicopter lifted off, all tugged the cork from the bottle with his teeth and tipped it back, watching the land roll beneath like green waves. Though he found no peace in the brightening horizon, at least he felt at home, surrounded by the brothers of a family he deserved.
He didn’t notice the little splash until a touch turned him about. Natalie bobbed, her hair splayed a ring around her shoulders. Her eyes were red too, though he doubted for the same reason. In their center that icy blue pierced his soul, and he wondered what she saw when she looked at him. It was the question that tugged his chin upward, though. Despite his best effort, only a half-hearted smirk touched his lips as he pulled her closer with the hook at her hip. He was too tired to conjure a sarcastic remark. After a moment, he scrubbed a hand through his hair, snagging the ends to tousled shapes. Then he sunk his chin to her shoulder, burying his face in her hair.
The ache was unbearable. Or maybe it was the threshold between reality of a mission completed and blissful focus of solitary duty marking an end that came too swiftly. The heat swarmed his eyes, though no tears fell. He was too tired to cry. Too tired to remember. But with nothing else to do except hold on to the only thing that was left: the only person that saw through horror, rejected fear, and found something buried among the pile of shit that was the whole of his life.
It was the interruption of a Russian voice that shattered the globe of depressing thoughts that was his fragile brain. Jay looked up long enough to behold the outline of Scion Marveet looming above.
“Helicopter is five minutes out. Get ready,” he said, glancing at two towels abandoned on a lounge chair before disappearing inside. Jensen offered a hand, but Jay shook his head, and the preacher ventured away. They were left alone for perhaps the only minutes of peace they knew since boarding the plane in Moscow. And excluding that crash in the shitty hotel at the border.
“Skinny dipping is only worth it in the ocean,” he said, searching her face. Weariness etched deep as he cupped her shoulders, rubbing down the length of her arms, his expression soft and wishing for a time when his biggest problems were about baseball and girls. At least baseball wasn’t a problem anymore. Girls? Probably live with that for the rest of his life.
He started to kiss her, but hesitated. She was probably far from desiring affection. Farther to want it from him. After watching what he could do. Worse, watching what he didn’t do. The shock of seeing his mother was the reason they were all dead. He was in control until then. If he hadn’t froze? Seconds made the difference. If he hadn’t froze. If he hadn’t was a familiar road he walked pretty often. All the long road all the way back to that Thanksgiving when he enlisted. Might as well call it If Jay Carpenter Hadn’t Fucked Up Boulevard.
Dizziness swarmed, but all Jay did was wince and close his eyes. He wanted to sink beneath again. Instead, it was painful effort to push out of the pool, but when he did, the filth flowed away. Mostly. He grabbed his boots, which were in fact quite caked with brown and red, but they were his, slung a towel around his neck and searched the skies. About that time, a familiar sound pulsed on the air. The wind picked up, and the noise of engines lowered to the rooftop helipad. From the black beast poured a team not unlike what Jay worked in these same jungles – or close enough to them – years ago. How did Scion know? Had he arranged it? Must have.
He offered to help Natalie if she needed it and they wandered to the front of the mansion. Scion’s (formerly Zacarías’) mercenaries waited; weapons at the rest. Their team lead stood alongside Scion in the driveway as the soldiers emerged on ground level. Jay’s brows lifted to find almost fully unmarked men, but they moved with the scalpel-like precision of a team known only to Custody-trained. The noise of the helicopter purred too perfectly to be the property of clunky Americans or second-hand market.
He spoke with a small sense of reverence, explaining for Jensen and Natalie, should they listen. “They’re ZARS.” He licked his lips, having never seen them in action first hand, and fully aware of the manpower each dark shape represented. Three approached Scion, which meant one more was on watch, a pilot waited in the helicopter, which surprisingly wasn’t powering down, and another one would be at the ready. Suppose it made sense. They probably didn’t want to stick around for breakfast. Too bad. Jay was getting hungry. Or that’s what he assumed knotted his stomach horribly.
From the house, Jay and the others watched one of the private mercenaries draw Yasmine to the driveway, plunking her alongside the other mercenaries. She was worn and scraped up, as though having been caught on the run, and not treated well since being caught. It was like watching a battlefield re-enactment. Two sides facing each other. The mediator, Scion, walked forward and offered to shake hands with the Custody ZARS squad leader. Jay couldn’t hear what was said above the noise of the engines, nor did he summon the power to do so. He didn’t particularly care and was dabbing at the water on his neck when quick movement stunned him.
In swift, bloody action, the Custody special forces mowed down Amengual’s mercenaries. Yasmine fell along with them. Jay blinked but kept his jaw tight at the teeth. Those men turning on Zacarías was the reason him, Natalie and Jensen were alive. When the Custody forces glanced their way, Jay felt the power burst into existence from Jensen. He himself followed suit, but the squad leader did nothing except signal to his men to return to the helicopter.
Scion jogged over, yelling. “Unless you want to walk out of Mexico, let's go.” and waved them to follow.
Jay exchanged worried looks with Jensen, who seemed to be considering the offer before both dropped the power. With a dry swallow, he told them to go ahead. Their work was done. No loose ends. ”I’ll be right behind you,” he turned and went inside.
Several minutes later, he returned, tequila bottle tucked under each arm, obviously taking longer to account for simply walking in and stealing two bottles. When the helicopter lifted off, all tugged the cork from the bottle with his teeth and tipped it back, watching the land roll beneath like green waves. Though he found no peace in the brightening horizon, at least he felt at home, surrounded by the brothers of a family he deserved.
Only darkness shows you the light.