TW: Cursing, main has a panic attack, hyperthermia
"Price, found a girl here," the skull-faced man said into his wrist. He paused for a moment, still holding a pistol to my head. At this point my legs had all but buckled as the fight or flight mechanism in my body had disengaged and I had accepted I was going to die. "Don't fucking try it," he whispered to me as he watched my eyes move to find an escape route.
"I'm at the LZ," he spoke into his wrist again. He finally nodded and rolled his eyes. "Turn around, put your hands behind your back," he groaned at me.
I finally found my voice as his giant hands grabbed my shoulders and turned me, "sir, I-I think th- there has been a misunderstanding here." Then it occurred to me, this was the final stop on my journey from my past, everything had finally caught up to me after all those years hiding in the Montana mountains, hoping the world would forget about me. I was still wearing my Air Force sweatshirt that was given to me so many years ago. It wasn't beaten up; I had taken good care of it. Just like I had taken good care of myself since then.
"Don't talk," he said. I heard zip ties, then my hands were ripped from being clasped on my head, "not until he gets here."
"Listen, I don't know-"
"What did I just say?" His words were like bullets, commanding and nothing else. He was angry. The zip ties tore into my skin, and I squeaked as he tightened them further. "Sit down."
I did as I was told, my ski pants were thankfully waterproof, so the snow didn't melt against my ass. I tried to wipe my nose against my shoulder to no avail. I probably looked like a toddler with snot dripping from my nostrils after a temper tantrum. The man finally walked in front of me, the gun still held up. He had a white jacket that was pinned down by a beige tactical vest, filled to the brim with items that I had once worn in the Air Force. Three mags, a med kit, a flashlight, a side arm strapped to his thigh with clip after clip circling his stomach. He had throwing knives on his vest that framed a British flag patch. I whimpered on the ground, growing cold as the adrenaline in my veins turned frigid.
After what seemed like hours of the two of us staring at each other, the sound of boots on snow and ice filtered into the circle. A man walked with such a stride; it seemed like the earth was shaking around him. He was dressed in the same white garb except for a black beanie that dawned his head. A thick beard covered the outlines of his face shape. Must have been keeping his face warm because he didn't sport the same balaclava and mask as the taller man had on.
"What do we have here?" Asked the bearded man. He had a thick British accent as well. He looked down at me with his hand on his side arm.
"She was carrying this," the masked man said, holding out my father's rifle to the bearded man. He took the rifle and looked down at me on the ground again, he pulled the bolt several times and emptied out the bullets. Dinging on the snow and ice was a sound I thought I would never hear again, but it was somehow a catch of bliss as my mind whirled with terrifying thoughts. Are these men going to kill me? Rape me? Detain me for my past in the Air Force? My eyes began to well again.
The bearded man noticed and kneeled to be on the same level as me, "vy russkiy?"
I thought for a moment I was losing your mind, "huh?" was the only sound I could muster from my sandpaper lined throat.
"A ty govorish' po russki?" The bearded man asked, this time with more heat in his voice.
I stared blankly at him, trying to figure out what he was saying but also contemplating the fact that I may just be losing my mind, and I was still dreaming or possessed, and this was the hell the demons had locked me inside. "I don't understand," I said breathlessly.
The bearded man stood and looked over at the masked man, before pulling his knife from his belt and looking down at me again, I suddenly began my writhing again. Trying to roll onto my knees and stand as quickly as I could to get away. I flubbed though as I was off balance from my hands behind my back and frankly numb. I had lost feeling in them long ago. My face landed in the snow and my hair that had quite frankly turned into a mop, covered my frozen skin.
"Oh dear," I heard the bearded man say, before I heard his boots follow me. His hands found mine and the zip tie was cut, releasing my hands from their cage. My body took over again as my hands went for the closest thing I could use as a weapon which was a rock on the ground, it was quickly knocked out of my hands by a giant boot. Gloves were around my neck as I was hauled to my feet.
"Please don't kill me!" I begged.
"Golly, think we would have killed ya already if we wanted to?" The bearded man said.
Fate accepted.
"Price, what do we do?" The masked man said, "she was at the LZ when I got here." He was still holding a gun to me, to which I was getting extremely annoyed.
"Fuck," I finally said. Fear seemed to strip away as I looked down the barrel of the pistol. Somewhere deep inside me was my past self, my past training, my fearlessness. I could feel it boiling up as a second wave of fight or flight faded back into my bones.
"What's your name?" The bearded man asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at me.
"Jamie," I stated, making sure to not give my last name. Who knew what they would do with that kind of information.
"How did you get out here?" The masked man asked. I narrowed my eyes at him, there was no way I was answering that question. But he cocked his gun once and stepped towards me, the bearded man said nothing.
"I work at the ranger station about ten miles east of here," I shouted, not looking the masked man in the eye as his violent footsteps made their way forward. "I was tracking some wolves this way," I continued, I suddenly tasted blood in my mouth and felt the burn of a cut on my lip, my adrenaline was fading.
The man called Price scoffed and turned his head to look at the masked man, "intel didn't have a station this close to the border."
"We've been off grid since the creation of the Forest Service, mostly for wildlife data research. There is one computer there for data input but no Wi-Fi, no signal, there is a satellite phone that we use to contact our fire tower about 60 miles from here," I said. Both men's heads swung to look at me in confusion. I raised my hands "we like to stay hidden."
"This could compromise us, Price. Civilians this close to an op is collateral that we can't afford," the masked man said. He had been holding that weapon up at me for a good hour now, his arm not even shaking.
"Can you take that fucking thing off me?!" I stabbed at him, frustration getting the better of me. The masked man took another aggravated step towards me, and I finally looked into his eyes, like daggers. I looked away.
"Ghost put the gun down, she's harmless," Price said.
"She'll run," Ghost said bluntly.
"I'm not going anywhere without my father's gun," I said without thinking.
They both looked over at the brown rifle laying on the ground between the two of them. Price went and picked it up from the mud, brushing off some of the snow that had found its way inside the bolt. He swung it over his shoulder and held his wrist up to his mouth. "MacTavish, Gaz RV at the LZ."
"Give me my father's gun," I said, suddenly getting very angry. Maybe it was the pain in my joints from being thrown around or the neurotransmitters getting confused in my head as the rollercoaster of emotions receded into a rhythmic panic.
"No," was all Price said, pulling the strap of the gun closer to him.
"What's the plan here, Sir?" The masked man asked, his tone turning into a straight annoyance.
"Wait for Gaz and Soap, she'll take us back to her station. If it's there we call for exfil, leave her father's gun and we all go home. If it's not there and this little muppet is lying, we know what we need to know."
I suddenly felt sick and bent down to put my hands on my knees. My vision blurry with the feeling of pure fear and confusion. After a few moments of spitting and tasting blood in my mouth, I finally stood and stared at the two men looking back at me, "Jesus."
"Who the fuck are you guys?" I croaked. I knew hunters out here, there weren't that many that would stray this far into the wilderness, this was far too remote for retired men with nothing better to do. Rescue squads wouldn't wear the tactical gear that these two were wearing, Police had white uniforms like that, but they would have let the station know they were coming if they had a problem out there. The British patches were a mystery wrapped up in a riddle.
They both ignored me; I watched my father's gun on the back of Price, swinging back and forth in the same way that it swung over my father's back on those days that were eerily like this one. I looked up at the sky, and I didn't know how long I had been looking when two more heavily armored men walked into the circular snowy drift.
"Hell fucking bells..." one of the men said, he had a heavy Scottish accent. Another fucking brit. I looked him up and down, he sneered at me like I was a bothersome child. "What's going on LT?
"There is an undisclosed ranger station ten miles east of here, she was tracking wolves and I found her at the LZ, no Russians," the masked man said, he was little more than an answering machine at this point.
"So why are we here?" The other man said, he had darker skin and was the least decked out in gear. He wore ski pants like my own and a black baseball cap. A puffy ice blue coat under his armor.
"I can't get comms to Laswell, she said there is a satellite radio at the station, if she's lying then we can take her once we get comms, if she's not lying then we call for exfil and she gets her daddy's gun back," the man called Price said.
"Why didn't we know about the station?" the Scottish man asked.
"Satellite picture? No one could see a fucking ranger station on it?"
"It's off grid, old American forest service, I'm guessing they pay to have it hidden" the masked man said. He turned towards you and crossed his arms over his chest. "You're federal then."
"Contracted. I'm a certified tracker," I answered before thinking about the information I just gave them.
Soap playfully tapped the masked man in the chest with the back of his hand "didn't you once say you liked tracking wolves."
The masked man finally placed his pistol back in his thigh holster, "yeah, you use-"
"Dog piss" I answered for him. His eyes flashed at me, I couldn't tell if it was rage or astonishment. But my eyes quickly turned to the Scottish one whose mouth was grinning.
"I guess she's not lying about that then," he said before making a beeline for me. "Lead the way, darlin." I stood where I was, refusing. The Scottish man smirked and pulled his side arm from his thigh, a handheld fifty caliber pistol. Would easily take my head right off my shoulders. "I mean we can do this the hard way too."
My freezing feet and hands screamed at me to just lead the way; the pain was the surefire sign of oncoming frostbite. I needed to get to warmth, but I couldn't force myself to go. Not with these men behind me, "it's not that," I said trying to force my feet from their permanent position in the snowbank. "I've just sprayed the entire 4 miles down with dog piss, wolves are sure to be on their way."
The Scottish man looked back at the masked figure and chuckled, "looks like it's your time to shine, Ghost."
Price chuckled as well and began walking towards me, offering me a handout of the snowpack that I had sunken into. I took his hand and stepped out of the bank, looking back at the masked figure. He unclipped one of his mags and inspected the inside, only to replace it. "Shut the fuck up, Soap."
I walked in silence back down the snowy slopes, watching my father's rifle swing back and forth over the back of the one they called Price. No one talked, occasionally there would be a crunch of snow and they would all drop to a crouching position, rifles lifted. I found this phenomenon amusing, but I also felt myself wanting to return to the habits that were once instilled in me to do the same. I thought back to that life. The Air Force had been my choice, not my father's. He wanted me to be a Marine, like he was, like his father was. But I saw the Air Force as nothing but a steppingstone to a more settled life working with wildlife, doing what I was doing now.
Each morning I woke and watched animals that some people only saw in zoos in their natural habitats, I observed them, wrote what I saw in my journal and reported it back to David. My eight years in the Air Force had provided me with the vigilance and discipline that I had now. But like all learned skills, my instincts of the fighting tactics and combat had faded into the past. I had taken a few Brazilian Jiu Jitsu classes to hone those skills again, as a woman it was necessary.
The sun was beginning to set as I walked with the four of them, eyes facing the ground, trying desperately to not look pathetic and childlike. My legs were aching, and my feet were screaming at me. I would be dipping my feet into the hearth tonight, as well as raiding David's liquor cabinet he kept in the office. He didn't know that I knew about it, but I knew.
I heard it first, the thumping of helicopter blades in the distance, I stopped dead in my tracks, causing the Scottish one they all called soap to bump into me, "keep it movin-"
"Shut up!" I spoke. His eyes widened and I could feel the heat coming from him.
"Watch your fuckin' mouth," he began to say but it was the masked man that thumped him on the shoulder.
"Soap, shhhhhh-"
Then they all heard it, it was far off in the distance, but it was unmistakable. Price looked at Ghost and then to Soap and then to Gaz. Nodding, he finally turned to me. "Look Missy, we need to get to your station quickly. How much further is it?"
"Two miles on the path, you can cut over the river, but it's frozen-"
"Let's go," all of them took off toward the Elk River, it was more like a large creek that I swam in during the warmer summer days. Deep enough to swim in, but if it rained it would easily sweep me away.
I ran along with them, not thinking about the fact that I was also going to be crossing in water that would have made the Titanic iceberg shiver. Price dove in, not taking a second to think about it. Soap and Gaz clambered after him, holding their guns above their heads. "Bloody Fucking hell!" Soap shouted.
Ghost looked back at me and then waited. "In," was all he said. Again, I knew that tone, the tone of one who ordered others around. I thought I had put those days behind me, but it seemed that the past had finally caught up to me. I took a long deep breath, filling my lungs with as much air as possible then stepped into the riverbank. The water wasn't strong, but I could already feel the icy temperatures run up my legs. I forced myself in and across, the water finally reaching my belly button and then my chest. My thoughts screamed at me "out, out, out!"
But this wasn't the first time I had plunged into the river in the middle of winter before. The polar plunge was an initiation for new ranger station employees, often done when everyone could witness it. I had taken the initiation with stride and smile, happy to be a part of David's team. Now I fought my body's attempt to shut down, I could hear the labored breaths of the men around me as they exited on the other side of the stream.
"How far now?" Price asked me, shivering slightly.
Hauling myself out of the riverbank, I was astonished to find the masked man already standing above me, soaking wet but completely unphased by the chill. My words no longer worked, all I did was point and begin walking, teeth clattering together. My ski pants dripped in the winter snow, sticking to my labored and frozen muscles. Seeping all the way into my bones.
I could see the roof of the station, all I wanted was the warmth of my cot. I could already feel the coziness around me as I picked up my feet and put them back down in the direction of my salvation. That was a sign of hyperthermia, thinking I was warm when I was just losing nerve function in my limbs. I heard the guys behind me, crunching in the snow as they followed.
I burst through the office door, heading directly for the women's bathroom. "Jesus Christ, Jamie!" I heard a familiar voice sound off as I and the four men behind me entered the facility. "What the holy hell is happening here!"
I heard guns being cocked, but my limbs finally gave away and I fell to the ground. The shivering become uncontrollable, I could die of hyperthermia, I reminded myself.
"Who are you?!"
"Put the gun down, Soap!" I heard Price yell.
My eyes were closing involuntarily. Why did I feel so warm? Why was I shaking so hard?
"I'm the ranger here, what-" I heard David stop and footsteps running towards me. "Jamie! Someone help!"
"Soap! Put the fucking gun down!" Price called again.
"Sir," I heard metal scratching metal. I heard more footsteps come towards me and I opened my eyes just enough to see Price's face over me. There was some slapping of wet clothing on the ground and grunts and more hands on me.
"She's hyperthermic, she said there is a fireplace," it was Price's voice.
"It's not lit, I'll go light it."
"Take your bloody clothes off!" I heard Price yell as loud as he could.
"What?!" There was some kind of ripping sound that I was sure was my soul being ripped from my body. The shaking was receding now as drowsiness seemed to take over, my eyes were impossible to open.
Then I felt it, warmth but not the kind of warmth that was numbing, it was like I was being consumed in a heated blanket. Blissfully feeling nudging into the frozen particles of my skin, then muscles, and then bones. Sleep was so close to me; euphoric sensations filled my body.
The slap of a hand across my face shocked me out of that euphoric dreamland, "DO. NOT. FALL. ASLEEP!" Price's voice was like a bomb going off over me. Finger pointed at my face.
My eyes were open now, and what I saw what could only be described as hell let loose in my office. I was laying on the floor, naked, body shaking up against something very warm. I looked to the side and David was shirtless next to me, holding me against him. I was too cold to feel ashamed, I curled into him, fighting off the urge to sleep. "It's ok, I got you," I heard David say as another wave of shivering took over. I knew that that was a good thing, my body was trying to regulate again.
I looked to the other side of the room, there were towels everywhere and wood being tossed into the fireplace that had not been lit this winter. The Scotsman was shirtless, as was the one they called Gaz, they were both doing some kind of exercise to get warm. Price was still fully clothed, with a fucking cigar in his mouth.