A Ghost Encounter: My Time with Simon "Ghost" Riley

Part Seventy-Two: Getting to Know You

Back to Breanna's Point of View (POV)

*The events of this chapter are happening simultaneously with the previous chapter*

"We've gotten word from Laswell and the others," Captain Price informs us as he runs this morning's briefing. "Makarov's safe house is a dead end. He wasn't there."

König, Soap, and I all look at each other and then back at Price.

"So where is he then?" Soap crosses his arm, his frustration palpable.

"It's been confirmed that Makarov is here in Afghanistan," Price claims, taking a deep breath.

"He is here?" Mateen asks, his eyebrows raised, as he unexpectedly enters the barn.

"I'm afraid so," Price responds to Mateen, his tone serious. "So the sooner you can get us to the scrapyard the better."

Mateen takes a steadying breath. "I've made arrangements for my family to take their leave tomorrow morning. After that, I will take you. You have my word."

"Good man." Price smirks at Mateen. "That means we have to prepare for a fight. Whatever happens at the scrapyard we don't stop until we capture Makarov, is that clear?"

"Clear, Captain," König, Soap, and I say simultaneously.

If Makarov's not in Russia that must mean...

"Will the rest of 141 be joining us?" I ask Price as I wait in anticipation for his answer.

"You need to work on your poker face, Sergeant, "Captain Price chuckles, teasing me.

I roll my eyes and hastily turn my head to hide my blush.

"They were supposed to make their way here this morning but they've been delayed by a day, maybe two, because of a snowstorm," the Captain informs us.

Dammit.

I got all excited thinking I'd be able to see Simon today.

"I can supply you with weapons, my friends," Mateen interjects.

"Greatly appreciated." Price nods at Mateen. "Is there anything we can do for you? For taking us in and helping us."

"Do not worry about that," Mateen pauses contemplatively. "Well, there is one thing..."

- TIME SKIP -

"Thanks for offering our help, Captain," Soap whines sarcastically as he shovels horse shit.

Turns out the horses were getting some medical care/check-ups and that's why they weren't in the stable last night.

Looks like we'll be having a sleepover with the horses tonight, though.

"Don't be a brat, Soap," Price sighs, also not thrilled about shoveling shit. "He's doing us a favor. The least we can do is make ourselves useful."

Price has a point. I'm already drowning in guilt for getting them involved in the first place. Interestingly enough, Price doesn't seem like a man who's swayed by emotions, but more so by logic and strategy.

I wish I could lessen the control my emotions have on me. Our journey in Iran helped somewhat with that but I still have a long way to go, especially if I want to be considered "good enough" for the Task Force.

"Yeah, Soap. Just shut up and look pretty like König," I chuckle.

"JuSt sHut uP...blah, blah, blah," Soap mimics me, furrowing his brows.