Author's Note: If you have any writing tips, please feel free to comment.
Again, I gratefully accept constructive criticism as a means to help me develop my skills as a writer.
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Chapter 19
"I can't feel a beat!"
"Is she even alive?"
"Wait, wait! I got something!"
The revving of an engine echoed around them, there were beeping and scrunching. Four hands were handling Malloy simultaneously. One paramedic checked that the oxygen flow was constant while the other checked the gunshot wounds. She gasped as she removed her body armor and blood spilled everywhere. The armor was torn to shreds in the areas where the patient was shot making it useless. She threw it aside and started cleaning the wounds from the debris caused by the bullet itself while trying to keep in balance as the ambulance swerved violently.
"What is she saying?"
The patient's mouth was moving, mumbling something and she was scrunching her nose.
"She's delirious due to lack of oxygen and blood loss. Inform the Emergency to prep the OR," said the paramedic. "She's going to need surgery asap."
"And if we don't hurry we're going to lose her!"
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Twenty minutes earlier...
Lara Campbell and Béatrice Deforest were waiting for the Pave Low to land in a clearing. The nurses were standing by with the stretcher alongside an ambulance. The ramp lowered and Price and MacTavish carried an unconscious Malloy out onto the stretcher. Williams informed them about the situation and the nurses pushed her to the ambulance.
"Have you got any more injured?" said Campbell.
"We got a soldier with an injured leg and a KIA," replied Williams.
"Is it serious?"
She shook her head. "The muscle and sinew are intact. It's simply a flesh wound."
"We will take care of the KIA Lieutenant," said Deforest. "We will send her home."
"In the meantime, we will take care of Shadow and you will go to an MI6 safe house in Slovakia. After the ruckus you have made at the base, Makarov will surely react to it."
"I want to be informed about Lisa's situation," demanded Price. "We're still in Russia. If her identity is exposed-"
Campbell sighed. She was not known for her patience.
"I will personally get in contact with you do not worry. We know what we're doing Captain Price."
Allen was being veered to another ambulance on a gurney. A white drape was covering her body. Only her combat boots, stained with dirt, mud, and grass were showing. Williams stopped them and took her dog tags where she kept them safely in one of her pouches as a tear streamed down her face.
"Get settled and think about your next move Captain," Deforest told Price.
Campbell and Deforest walked to the black SUV that was waiting for them on the side.
"I have the coordinates," said Nikolai. "Shall we go?"
Price nodded. "Let's move."
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The farmhouse they were staying in looked like a place for tourists to take in the surrounding greenery as they are resting from a stressful life. Volkovce was a quaint village in the district of Zlaté Moravce situated in western-central Slovakia. With only a population of over 1000 inhabitants, Volkovce was the ideal place to lay low and think about their next move. From their position, they could see the houses scattered all over. No one was going to bother them in the fields except maybe an annoying raven that wouldn't stop cawing and the distant sound of a tractor revving away while clawing at the earth.
The agents at the safehouse were worse than the ones in Poland. At least the CIA agents would nod at them and address them with forced good manners. MI6's attitude was unwelcoming as ever and they spoke with a tone which translated as, 'Go fuck yourselves.'
"Pricks," Ghost had muttered.
Price wasn't bothered by this because for one annoying remark they would dash out, he would respond by doubling it to piss them off. After one morning of the constant bickering between MI6 Agent Crawford and Captain Price, the former had decided to lock himself in the security room and never came out until necessary leaving Price with a victorious smirk. None of the agents had even tried to talk to them from that moment on.
Roach knocked three times on the door and heard a weak 'come in' from the other side. He entered the room and saw Collins dozing off in the bed probably a side-effect of the drugs. He sat down on the bed near her and stroked her arm.
"How are you feeling?" he said.
"I've been better," she muttered. "At least, my leg isn't killing me anymore. And Mac... well..."
Roach squeezed her and gave her an apologetic smile.
"I know it's hard-" he started.
"Don't bother," she interrupted, rolling on the other side. "Heard it already when Daniels died."
He scratched his head as he tried to mask the awkwardness between them.
"I'm trying to-"
"I know. Listen, I'm tired. We'll talk later ok?"
He kissed her forehead but she didn't react. He sighed. He was tired of running after her. Should he forget about her or try harder? Women confused the shit out of him.
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A black SUV stopped in front of the Administration building at Fort West, New York. Nielson started walking towards it, rubbing his neck. He had spent three-quarters of an hour on the Agency's private jet and his back was killing him. Age was catching up to him and sitting down for long periods of time did not help his spine or joints. He shook off the pain in his lower back and proceeded to knock on a large wooden door.
"Come in."
He opened the door and took off his aviators. The office looked rich and welcoming with ornate bookshelves and a mahogany desk placed in the middle. Plants and paintings decorated the room giving it a luxuriant atmosphere. On the side, there was a sitting area with a glass coffee table. A man was sitting on an orthopedic armchair and stood up immediately as the agent came in. Nielson observed him; possibly sixty years old, his white hair combed neatly to the side. His skin may be wrinkling due to old age but his brown eyes spelled determination and alertness. His nose was crooked and his lips were so thin, they were on the verge of disappearing.
"Agent Nielson. To what do I owe this pleasure?" he asked as they shook hands.
"Mr. Gilson, I am here to talk about Lisa Malloy."
Gilson smiled and motioned for him to sit. Nielson was never one to shy away and hide. He was always to the point.
"Shouldn't it be better if all of the Board was here?"
"You're head of the Board," said Nielson sitting down on the leather sofa opposite of Gilson. "I am interested in talking to you."
Gilson asked his secretary to bring them coffee. He was not in the mood to get in an argument with the Head of Operations at the CIA about an issue which had already been settled.
"You have to understand," started Gilson, "that Malloy was still employed as Field Commander of the Elite Task Force when she accepted the covert operation. With her accepting the mission, she abandoned her team and that is simply unacceptable."
"I have already told you that the CIA put her into that position and as a responsible US soldier, she accepted," he replied impatiently. "She managed to uncover a devastating plot! We're talking about nuclear missiles!"
"We don't care," he replied expressionlessly. "That was unprofessional on her behalf. Anyway, it's time that the Elite Task Force gets some fresh air."
Nielson's brow furrowed as he watched Gilson sip his coffee.
"What do you mean?"
"Lieutenant Williams, who is temporary in charge of the Task Force, lost another operative under her command in a recent mission. That is two KIAs in a span of four months."
"For God's sake Gilson, this is the norm for Special Forces," said Nielson rolling his eyes. "Especially in a damn war!"
"War is not an excuse for people to die," replied Gilson jabbing his finger in the sofa.
"No, it is a reason!"
"These women are not capable of handling the stress."
"Are you kidding me? Where other women task forces failed, these women managed to keep the ETF together for four years!"
"Nielson, they are falling apart!"
"All soldiers suffer from stress. The majority of them are diagnosed with PTSD."
Nielson noticed that Gilson wouldn't budge.
"What do you have in mind then?" he surrendered.
Gilson didn't reply. He licked his thin lips and calmly stirred the coffee. Nielson put the mug down and glared at him.
"You can't possibly-"
"It is time to replace them."
"After all the work they have done? Could you be more inconsiderate?!"
"Oh come on. It's not like you haven't done it before. Nonetheless, there are women who are more proficient than them."
"You mean women who have rescued the President's son."
Gilson sat on the edge of the sofa, his brown eyes burning into Nielson's eyes. If he was trying to induce pressure, he was failing.
"Did you know that Malloy and Williams disobeyed orders in that joined op between the Army and the Corps?"
"What matters is that the President's son arrived home safe and sound."
"They endangered the whole squad," said Gilson. "Apart from the fact that... well, they are working with Task Force 141 which are disavowed and wanted for treason."
Nielson swallowed hard and felt anger in the pit of his stomach as Gilson smirked. This bastard knew everything but decided to wait for the opportune time to accuse the ETF to get them out of the way. They were getting nowhere. Gilson was stubborn and tenacious about this matter. He was not going to convince him, he was wasting his time.
"Captain Thompson will be the new Field Commander of the Elite Task Force," continued Gilson.
"Are you insane? She's inexperienced and has no background in covert and black ops! You can't replace them in the middle of the war Gilson," insisted Nielson.
"The Board has already decided."
"The Board is a bunch of inexperienced assholes who think they understand in military tactics," said Nielson getting up. "You are doing a grave mistake."
"What did you call us?" said Gilson enraged, standing up as well.
"Did I stutter?"
Gilson's mouth gaped open and Nielson put on his aviators.
"Remember that you put Malloy in this position yourself," spat Gilson. "This wouldn't have happened if-"
"Bullshit," interjected Nielson. "It would have happened anyway. You're deceiving the wrong man."
Nielson decided to leave without uttering another word. He tried to bottle his anger. Next time Tiger wanted something for Malloy, she should have done it herself. He never showed it or told anyone but he cared for his agents. He would get worried if they went MIA or get injured in a mission. Malloy never knew, but the reason they left her in captivity for three days with Espinosa was that they were planning the perfect extraction to avoid her being killed in the process. He trusted her; he knew that she would have managed the pain and torture.
He sighed as he got in the SUV. There was nothing more he could do. MI6 was taking care of them for the time being. He'll honor his part of the deal he had made with Malloy prior to the Vaughn mission. He owed her that much.
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Williams was sitting on her bed with her head resting in her hands. Tears were falling rapidly in her lap. She was feeling depressed; her stomach was a knot and felt a headband was tightening around her head. Lying next to her was her Colt 1911, standard issue for MARSOC and other special forces. It was similar to Price but hers had a desert-tan finish instead. A very powerful and reliable side-arm.
She grabbed it in her hands and felt the bumps of the G10 stocks against her palm. With tears still streaming down, she checked if her magazine was loaded and pulled back the slide.
Maybe it was better this way. She flicked the safety off and started to raise the gun but the door flung open.
"Sweetheart, have you seen my duffle bag?" asked Ghost.
William snapped around.
"No, I haven't," she quietly replied.
Ghost stared at her for a moment and saw the gun in her hand. He cautiously stepped towards her with a confused look.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm... cleaning my pistol."
"Last time I checked you need to disassemble it and a cloth to clean it."
She wasn't fooling him. With her face shining with the tears she had been shedding and the look in her eyes, he understood perfectly what she had in mind. He was going to sit near her but she pointed the gun at him. What worried him more was that the safety was flicked off.
"What are you doing?" he asked with forced calmness.
"You know nothing of how I feel," she spat. "You have it so easy."
"What is troubling you?"
"What do you care?!"
"Tell me, please."
"I have just been informed that the Board wants to talk to me," she said, wiping her face. "They will fire me, I'm sure of it. And if they do, I won't have any resources left to find my sister."
"I promised you that I will help you with your sister," he reassured her.
"I lost Daniels and Mac. Both of them died under my command! I lost two sisters..."
"Honey, I know how you are feeling."
"No, you don't," she cried. "I hate you, Simon."
Ghost realized that Williams was confused and scared. What frightened him was the gun pointing at him. With the distance of a few meters apart and considering that she was a professional, she won't miss the target.
He walked towards her and snatched the gun from her hand. She didn't even put up a fight. He unloaded the gun and threw the mag away.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he scolded her.
She tried to slug him but he dodged it easily. She wasn't thinking straight. He grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back. He forced her to her knees and slammed her on the ground. She grunted in pain as he pressed his forearm against her neck. She tried to turn around to face him but he locked her good.
"You got two options love," he spoke firmly. "You throw all of this away or you fight back."
"You don't understand!"
"I understand better than you think," he snarled.
He let her go and she stood up rubbing her arm and neck.
"When they murdered my family, you know the first thing that crossed my mind?" he asked looking away. "I grabbed a gun and put it in my mouth. Thank Christ I didn't pull the trigger."
Williams looked at him, frightened. He grabbed her in his arms and held her close.
"This is never the answer," he continued gently. "You may see everything collapsing around you at the moment but when you've reached the bottom, the only way to go is up."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, trembling in his arms.
"Don't apologize for anything, my love. This happens to the best of us. It happened to me, MacTavish and even Roach. Remember, I love you and will always be near you whatever happens."
He helped her get in bed and lied down near her. She was still shaking. He stroked her luscious brown hair and planted kisses all over her face. He didn't leave her side; he stayed with her all night.
The next morning, Williams woke up alone in bed. She rubbed her eyes and smoothed her hair with her hands. She looked at her; it was already half past eleven. Ghost got in the room holding a steaming cup of coffee.
"Good morning! Here you go, Charlene."
"Thanks."
She gladly took a sip from the mug. The warmth engulfed her body making her feel cozy. She already looked better. A smile spread on her face and her eyes looked vivid especially when she looked at her boyfriend. It looked like she managed to escape a dark place and put it all behind her.
"You were right yesterday," she mumbled. "You're always right."
"The important thing is that you feel better."
He looked strange, nervous even. He was rubbing his hands and neck. His leg was bouncing up and down and he was blushing. She rested her hand on his shoulder and grinned. He forced a smile on his face and looked down.
She was about to ask him what's wrong when he got up and looked at her. He stared at her and then Williams gasped as she saw Ghost get down on one knee.
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Quick Author's Note: Hehe here we go :) I really want to hear your thoughts on this :D
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