TW: References to sexual assault (not described)
At some point someone had covered my naked body and lifted me from the floor, carrying me to my cot in the office. It was hours before I stopped shaking and even longer before I felt warm again. When I finally felt my toes, I opened my eyes. My cot had been pulled next to the fireplace that had been reduced to embers. Lifting my head jump started the worst headache I had ever had, but I rubbed my eyes trying to push through the pain.
The sight of the room around me made no sense, I had to be dreaming still. I contemplated putting my head back on the pillow and going back to whatever inception I had been cursed with but then I heard the voices from the conference room of the office. I wasn't dreaming.
Upon moving my body, I realized, to my horror that I was no longer naked. A hoodie the size of a football field had been draped over my body; it was long enough to be a dress. The state of the room would have made a frat house look clean, towels were scattered around the office, clothing was hanging from every available hook or beam that I could see, on the backs of chair, from the office cabinet handles, hell there was a t-shirt hanging over the telemetry probe that I used to track tagged bobcats. Lovely.
I stood and felt like my legs were going to give out, but not from the pain I felt in them. It was because I was wearing someone else's socks on my feet. I nearly threw up right there, ripping the socks from my feet I shivered in disgust. I didn't like other people's feet on me, never. My feet were still purple in color, swollen from the lack of blood flow overnight. But I could move my toes that were painted black, that was a good sign.
I silently walked around the office, looking out the window. It must have snowed again because I could no longer see the path of the four of us had made in attempting to get into the building. The sound of more voices coming from the conference room had me following without thought. I was so thirsty, my stomach was pulling a fist and punching itself. God, I just wanted to go home.
Approaching the conference room door that was closed but not latched, I pushed it open silently. The four men who I had found at the helo site were sitting in chairs looking at a map of the surrounding area on a projector, David stood in the back, leaning on the map making machine.
"There is no way they would cross at a manned gate, they would use a part of the river," Soap said, others nodded in agreement.
Gaz pointed at an open part of the screen, "that flat part there, is it accessible?"
"There is the fire tower four miles to the East, they have a snowmobile there they use to get to the ridgeline, from there you have to repel down," David said.
"How far down?" Soap asked.
"Two hundred feet, but the wind blows directly into that cliffside. It's dangerous even when it's not the middle of winter," David said.
I stood in the doorway for some time, watching them study the map down to the fine, topographical, details. It wasn't until David finally looked to his left that he noticed that I was standing there, "My god, Jamie!"
His arms were instantly around me, warming me once again. I felt awkward, I was wearing nothing but a giant sweatshirt, but I welcomed the embrace. The other men in the room spun in their chairs to look at me, and I instantly felt like the world was staring. I couldn't imagine what I looked like, slept on semi-wet hair, pale as a ghost, walking around in someone else's clothes. Suddenly becoming very self-conscious, wanting to cover my bare legs and feet, wanting to feel some kind of security of my body. I looked at the masked man, who was now just wearing a balaclava and black long sleeve t-shirt. His eyes were still like dark black coals in a fire, evil.
I looked at Price with a sincere look, "thank you," I said, recalling that his leadership was the reason that I was still alive.
"Glad you made it out to the other side, love," he said.
"Um," my voice choked as they continued to stare, "whose...?" I pointed to the lake of a sweatshirt that I was wearing. All heads turned to the masked figure lurking in the darkness of the room, before turning back to me. I went red instantly, my burglar. Suddenly I went rigid, "where is my father's gun?"
David spoke up, "Jamie, relax," he consoled.
"No," I said, losing the self-consciousness I had before and replacing it with rage, "the deal was if I wasn't lying then I got my gun back."
"Watch yourself," Soap said from his chair, just as rigid as myself.
"You can't just take people's property," I raised my hoarse voice, I sounded like I had been sick for days.
"We took it from you because you were a threat," the masked man spoke from the corner. He was leaning back in his chair, hands between his thighs.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I said with my hands curling into fists, "do I look like a threat to you?" Wrong question to ask. His eyes scanned me from my head to my feet, lingering on my black polished toes. Some kind of angered and violent sound came from deep within his chest. Immediately, I wanted to cover myself, then again, I had half a mind to rip the sweatshirt off and throw it at him.
"Here," I heard Price say and my father's gun was held out to me. I ripped it from his hand, jutting my chin out to him. Checking to make sure it had not been tampered with, opening the bolt that was now empty, looking down its scope. It was habitual to me now.
David's hand landed on my shoulder, "Jamie, you should go home. Shower, sleep, eat something."
"That can't happen," Price's voice spoke up.
"Excuse me?" David's tone was deadly and protective.
"Both of you are assets in an international operation for the British Special Air Services," he said. I squeezed my eyes shut; I knew what that meant. Special Air Services was like the American Air Force special ops. "The Good Boys," some of the higher ups in the Air Force had called them when there was cooperation with them overseas. Price stared at me with cold but sincere eyes, "both of you."
"We are American citizens, in America," David said, "you're not doing anything with us."
"Don't make this more difficult than it needs to be," Price spoke up. "I don't want to detain you."
"Detain us?!" the shocked voice was like a hot poker, "we aren't criminals!"
"She was at the landing zone of a known terrorist organization, you were here waiting for her," Price said with his hands falling to his hips.
"You know, for special air service members, you are pretty fucking stupid," I spit out, rubbing my eyes with my fingers. Price chuckled and rubbed his beard with his hand, clearly becoming annoyed with the conversation.
"Laswell?"
I had not even noticed the satellite computer sitting on the table, silent this entire time, but now a woman spoke up, "they've not committed any crimes, you can't hold them."
Price bent over the table at the boxy laptop, "there was a bird in the air, another on the after us. She was at the landing site when we arrived and he was waiting for her when we got back to the station.," his voice was a mixture of pleading and annoyance. "There is enough here to suspect involvement."
"I understand John," she sounded like she ran the show here, "but having American citizens this close to an op is a recipe for disaster."
The woman's voice was American, not British, which was a mystery. I tried to think back to my military days, it wasn't uncommon for teams from other countries to work together. There were several British battalions that I had worked with during my tour in Qatar. John looked over at me and nodded, "Get us an exfil then."
"It has already been dispatched," the woman said. He closed the laptop with an aggravated slam.
I laid down in my bed inside the little cabin, far away from the chaos that was happening at the office up the mountain, my fire had been raging for hours. I still felt the cold in my bones, I had nearly died, my body had been reduced to nothing just from being at the wrong place at the wrong time. I shivered again, still wearing the giant sweatshirt from the ghost man, he hadn't asked for it back when I had put my dried cargos back on and trudged out to my Chevy Colorado. The drive was hazardous, but I didn't care. I wanted to be as far away from the office as possible, I wouldn't be going back until the snow had melted and spring had returned.
I had cried once I got home, sobbed in fact, but now I watched the flames of my fireplace, mind blank. David had fled the moment I had as well, driving off in the direction of the ranger house. Most likely fleeing with his wife and children to their flat in Missoula, I wouldn't blame him if he never returned.
I watched the day turn to night, not moving a single muscle of my body, I could still feel the fear of my death in my soul, not to mention the fear of having a gun shoved in my face. Years ago, I would have been alright after that kind of situation, but I had forgotten those instincts, or at least most of them.
I looked over at my father's gun leaning up against my bed. My father's voice filtered into my thoughtless mind, "you were born to do this," he said at my Air Force graduation. I squeezed my eyes shut.
Tears pulled at the corners, no matter how much time went by I still didn't stop crying when I thought about him. Damn, I thought to myself. I missed him. He would have driven overnight to come and get me if I had called him last night.
Last night.
A day had gone by, and I had done nothing but lay in my bed watching the flames of the fireplace dance. I had not showered, or eaten, my throat was drier than the Sahara Desert. I suddenly felt disgusting in my cargos and the sweatshirt, I could smell his deodorant on the fabric, my mouth watered as I found myself aware that I was wearing the sweatshirt of the man who had shoved the barrel of a gun against my temple and threatened to pull the trigger. Ripping the sweater over my shoulder and running to the bathroom, my naked upper body fell over the toilet as I heaved, nothing exited my body. As there was nothing in it.
I turned around and started the shower as hot as I could make it, allowing the steam to fill the bathroom. Once I entered the shower, I could feel the boiling water burning my skin, but I welcomed the pings of pain and burn. It told me that there was no damage to the nerves from the hyperthermia. My mind reeled with images of the last two days. The snow, the sound of helicopters, the sound of guns and metal and rivers flowing. A chainsaw coming to life and then dying.
I picked up the bar of soap to my right and began to scrub, washing away the river water and the smell of the sweatshirt on my skin. His skull mask flashed in my head; he was truly terrifying. Then the horrifying realization came to me, he had dressed my naked form after I had passed out on the floor with David. I remembered the bearded man slapping me and telling me not to fall asleep, and I had stayed awake and shook against David's chest for a long time. Listening to the chaos of the men changing clothes, doing pushups, and jumping jacks trying to get warm, there was quiet conversation. Someone talking over a satellite phone, "we've managed to get to a safe station, we heard a bird, they are moving."
"Price. Lighter," the skull-faced man said. Price passed him the lighter over to him, but not before lighting his cigar again.
"Fucking hell, my balls are in my stomach right now," the Scottish man said.
"Soap, shut up," Gaz had said, pushing himself up from the ground. None of them were looking at me and David on the floor. I pushed my head into David's chest, closing my eyes again, letting the warmth take me again. His legs hooked around my legs, pulling me into him.
"Hey, don't fall asleep on me," I heard him say. I opened my eyes again and looked at him, somehow, I smiled through the shaking of my struggling body. "There we go," he said, pulling me closer. "Don't tell Amy, alright."
I had eventually fallen asleep, but only after my body had stopped trembling. I could remember the feeling of hands lifting me from the ground, warmth blanketing me, being dipped into my cot. At that same time, the skull-faced man had pulled my limp body close to him and pulled the sweatshirt over my naked skin. My stomach turned again as I remembered the way he looked me up and down in the conference room, I was exposed, and he had taken full advantage of it. I dipped my hand between my legs, but I felt no soreness. Good, I didn't know if I could stand that kind of trauma. Again.
Once the hot water ran cold, I finally exited the shower, on the hunt for the first thing I could put into my stomach. I went for the jar of peanut butter and the old bread; it was good enough. The sandwich was blissful. I thought back to the day before, I had planned to have venison tonight with corn and potatoes, but this peanut butter sandwich was better. Nothing was better than this peanut butter sandwich.
After putting on a set of sweatpants and a flannel, I crawled back into bed. Before I drifted off, I remembered the slap to my face when Price had tried to keep me from giving into the hyperthermia. "Do not go to sleep!"
I giggled to myself in bed, maybe it was the exhaustion taking over, or it was my mind finally telling me that it needed to reboot, but the last thing I remembered was picturing the skull-faced man and imagining I was holding a gun to his face and pulling the trigger.
I awoke to the sound of cars pulling up my gravel driveway, I instantly went for my gun. Eyes still adjusting to the morning light, but I could see three sets of headlights rounding the turn in my property, fuck fuck fuck! I thought to myself, I knew I should have fled when I had the chance to.
This knock on the door was soft, but direct, "Jamie!" I recognized that woman's voice, the woman from the satellite computer. How on earth did they find me?
"Jamie, I know who you are. I don't want any trouble, I'm here to talk with you," she shouted through the door. The past had finally caught up to me, at last. Had to at some point.
I unlatched the door and pointed my rifle in her face, her hands went up in the air although she held my eyes with her own, no fear in them, "that's not needed," she stated. She was tall and blond with her hair pulled into a tight bun. Fringe sculpted her face nicely. She held a thick manila folder in her hand, with my name written in dirty cursive on the front. Yep, the past was literally knocking at my door.
She immediately pushed past me, into my home. Looking outside, I could see three SUV's, black with tinted windows, I was absolutely fucked.
I closed the door behind me, "please come in," I said sarcastically.
"Jamie Helen Alexandra Hendricks, two middle names made things a little harder for me to find you," at the sound of my full name I cringed. My mother always said my full name when I was in trouble as a child. She threw down my expired driver's license and old military ID, I had not even noticed that they had gone missing. Must have gotten stolen while I was asleep in the office by one of the team members.
"So how are we gonna do this?" I asked not taking time to listen to her particularly snide remarks about finding me.
"Absent Without Leave. Three years. That's good housekeeping, Jamie," she said while throwing the folder down in front of me as well.
I didn't dare touch that fucking folder, I already knew what it said. I looked back at her, rage was like a boiling pot in my heart, I knew that this day was going to come yet I was still angered that I was sitting here going through it. And this woman was sitting in front of me doing it was far different than the way I had imagined it. I figured it would be much more violent: fast hands forcing me to the ground, handcuffs, and angry security forces personnel. "Why haven't you arrested me yet?" I asked after a few moments of silence.
"Because you could be an asset," she said quickly.
"How on earth could I be an asset?" I huffed.
She was silently looking at me, disapprovingly, like I had asked the stupidest question in the world, "two tours in Afghanistan, one in Qatar, twenty-three medical evac missions. You ranked up fast, didn't you?" I didn't answer her. "Even recommended for the Airman's Medal, that must have been a dangerous operation."
"I never flew an op," I tried to defend myself "I never saw combat."
"That's a lie," she spat. I squinted at her, so angry I was nearly growling at her. Her nerves were beginning to show through her tone of voice though.
I stood and rubbed my face, "who the fuck are you lady?" I asked.
"My name is Kate Laswell, CIA," she said.
My response was almost immediate. "Nope,'' I shook my head, rage was emanating off me and drenching the air in the small room, this was a fucking recruitment. Suddenly those years in the Air Force whirled around in my head, what was the saying? These violent delights have violent ends. "No fucking way," I was not entertaining this discussion any longer, "I'm going to jail, a couple of years then I'm done."
"Or you can assist on this op with my team and that," she pointed at the filled folder, "goes away, changed to an honorable discharge. You'll go back to the life you've been living; you'll never see me or any of my team again."
"You can't be serious?" I said, squinting at her, stomach turning again. "Why would you want to work with a deserter, I'm unreliable."
I began to turn away from her, preparing myself for handcuffs, "I know why you went AWOL Jamie." I froze; eyes widened. Heart nearly stopped.
"I know what it's like to be a woman with no way out, I have been there, trust me," she said quietly. I turned to her and ripped the folder off the table, opening it and flipping through it, finding the page that had the report on it. I saw his face, still chiseled jaw and high cheekbones. Ripping the page from the folder, I crumpled it and tossed it into the fireplace behind us. She sighed and looked at the paper now catching flame on the hearth "You're not unreliable, you're stronger than you think."
"Stop with that therapeutic bullshit," I spit, the images of things that I had buried years ago began to flash in my head.
"Jamie," Kate said, her eyes flared at me. She knew she was hitting the nerve I was protecting under steel plates and iron shields. "I can wipe away the black stain on your record. You could get some help for you father-"
"That's enough," I spat, I was seeing red at this point. "Find someone else, I'm sure there are hundreds of young men who would be better candidates than me," I said, running my fingers through my hair. "I'll take the prison sentence."
"Not ones that know this area like you do, not ones that have been untraceable for the last 3 years," she said, "anonymity is something we value on our team." She was good, making a decent point of the fact that I had been able to keep out of any form of the military's eye for three years. It had not been easy, I had to take extra precautions when I spent money, cash only. I only took contracted work, in places without CCTV, the cabin I lived in was owned by the forest service and it was completely off grid. I paid my rent to David in cash. I drove only when I needed to, my car was still under Hayes's name. Moved around frequently, stayed away from familiar faces.
She was silent for a long time, "four days ago my team found American ballistic missiles in Al Mazrah, we believe they are trying to move another one into the United States through the U.S. border with Canada. Your forest is the most remote location to cross the border at."
"Don't!" I said quickly, I didn't want to know any more since it would mean I would be an asset whether I liked it or not, "don't say anymore."
She shook her head, "Come with me, a couple hours on a jet to Washington D.C., you can meet the team and I'll explain the rest," she saw my hesitant face, "at the very least you can get away from this God forsaken snow."
I gripped the table with an iron hold, knuckles turning white as I fought through my emotions, "I came out here to hide away from the world, to turn into nothing."
"You joined the Air Force, ranked up faster than any of you comrades, and became a combat helicopter pilot," she paused and picked up the folder on the table and pointed at it "you never wanted to be nothing, Jamie. By giving up and fading into nothing you are letting him win"
"You aren't giving me a choice here, are you?"
"Prison or me," she said with a grin, she had won.