Page 10 of Silent Dust
“She’s intubated to help her breathe,” Michaels continued, his voice heavy with sorrow. “They’ve put her in a medically induced coma to allow her body to heal. It’s critical, Bear. We’re racing against time now.”
Bear’s heart hammered as the weight of the news settled over him. Around him, the team absorbed the blow in silence. Dog’s jaw tightened as he stepped up behind Bear, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. Warden moved closer, his presence solid and reassuring, and rested his hand firmly on Bear’s other shoulder. Moose, usually quick with a joke, stood frozen, his usual grin wiped away, replaced by a tight line of disbelief. He clenched his fists at his sides, struggling to process the gravity of the situation.
The room felt heavy with unspoken fears and determination. Then, a sharp intake of breath crackled through the comms—Blast’s voice, strained and incredulous: “No… no way.” Stationed on overwatch, Blast’s disbelief cut through the tension.
In a corner, Samir sensed something was wrong. He moved closer to Link, leaning on his shoulder, his wide eyes pleading for reassurance. The team had instinctively tightened their circle around Bear, hoping their presence could steady the chaos swirling inside him.
Bear’s shoulders stiffened, and his jaw clenched as he absorbed the weight of the news. He could almost see Flora’s face—her warmth, her laughter, her unwavering compassion—flickering in his mind’s eye. An ache settled deep inside him, a longing to reach out, to reassure her that everything would be okay. But he was here, in this forsaken place, fighting to stop a threat that could wipe everything out.
His gaze settled on Samir, the boy’s innocent eyes reflecting a mix of fear and hope. Bear asked, “Our kids? Are they okay?”
Commander Michaels’ voice responded swiftly, but beneath its authoritative tone, Bear could detect a tremor of concern that rarely seeped through. “Yes, they’re with Hawk and Lindsey.”
Relief washed over Bear, but it was fleeting. The stakes had just escalated, and the urgency to act spiked within him. He turned to his team, their expressions a mirror of his own resolve.
“Bear,” Michaels said, breaking through the stunned silence, “are you able to continue leading the mission, or do you need to be replaced?”
Bear didn’t hesitate. “I’ll finish the mission. I gotta make sure this chemical doesn’t get used against any other innocents.”
Michaels’ voice cut through the air, bringing a jolt of cold reality. “The situation has escalated. Al-Harb’s threat is far greater than we initially assessed. Silent Dust isn’t just another chemical weapon; preliminary analysis suggests it’s a weaponized aerosol—highly addictive in small doses, undetectable, and rapidly lethal in larger doses. We have intel indicating a massive stockpile in a warehouse just outside Basra. That’s your primary target: complete and utter destruction of that chemical. We need to neutralize it before it gets sold to other countries.”
Michaels paused, the weight of his words settling heavily on Bear’s shoulders. “We’re deploying Charlie Team. They’re en route to Al-Asad Air Base, ETA approximately three hours. Their mission is to neutralize Al-Harb—whether that means capturing him or eliminating him, whatever is necessary.
“They’ll be equipped with full hazmat gear, extra medical supplies, and enough rations for an extended deployment, as we expect this operation could take longer than initially anticipated. They’ll meet you to resupply and receive your briefing on the warehouse layout. Make sure they have all the essential intelligence—coordinates, Samir’s testimony, anything that can aid them.”
Michaels continued, “Additionally, Admiral Grayson has a Delta Team and the Nightstalkers on standby aboard the carrier group stationed in the Gulf. If things go sideways, they’ll be ready for emergency extraction or direct support. We can’t afford any missteps on this mission.”
Bear felt the weight of Michaels’ words settle over him like a shroud. The urgency was palpable, and the stakes had never been higher. He turned to his team, their expressions a mirror of his own resolve.
“Commander,” he said, the words carrying the weight of a promise, a commitment, and a grief that ran deeper than any physical wound, “we’re going to finish this mission. For Flora. For everyone.”
After the call ended, Bear’s mind wandered to Flora, his wife of eighteen years and high school sweetheart, who had dedicated her life to helping others as a forensic pathologist. She had always been passionate about her work, often bringing home stories of the deceased soldiers she examined and how she provided families with closure. But now, that very dedication had put her in harm’s way. The thought of her suffering in the hospital, of their three children waiting for their mother to return, fueled a fierce determination within him.
Bear felt the weight of the moment settle heavily upon him as he recalled the night before he left. The memory was vivid, replaying in his mind like an old film reel, each frame tinged with regret. He and Flora had stood in their dimly lit living room, the air thick with unspoken words. They had once been so close, yet it felt like an insurmountable distance stretched between them. He could still feel the warmth of her hand in his, the way their fingers had intertwined, soft and gentle—a stark contrast to the chill that had seeped into his bones as he prepared for departure.
In that fleeting moment, their shared gaze had held a world of emotion. He had wanted to drown in her eyes, to reassure her that everything would be okay, that he would return. But the bitter silence had hung heavy, filled with doubts and fears they both dared not voice. The kiss they exchanged had been hurried, almost frantic, as if they were both trying to grasp onto something that was slipping away. It had lacked the warmth of their usual farewells, the kind filled with promises and dreams of homecoming. Instead, it felt like a goodbye laced with uncertainty, a stark acknowledgment of the dangers that lay ahead.
As he stood with his team now, the memory gnawed at him, a relentless reminder of the rift that had begun to form between them. Had he taken her for granted? Had he failed to see the signs of her distress? Questions swirled in his mind, each one more painful than the last. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had let her down, that he had been too focused on his duties, too consumed by the mission to notice the cracks in their foundation.
“Bear? What’s our next move?” Link’s voice pulled him back to the present, his concern evident. Bear took a deep breath, grounding himself in the here and now. He scanned the room, taking in the faces of his team—warriors who understood the weight of loss, the burden of duty. They were more than just soldiers; they were family, each one of them carrying their own fears, their own motivations.
“We prepare for Charlie Team’s arrival in three hours,” Bear said, steadying his voice. “Until then, we gather every piece of intel we can on that warehouse and the movement of the Al-Harb terrorists. Let’s get to work.”
The weight of the mission remained, but now it was fueled not just by a sense of duty and professionalism, but by a fierce, unwavering commitment rooted in love, loyalty, andcompassion. A fierce determination hardened Bear’s features, pushing back the turmoil within. He would not be broken.
As he processed and compartmentalized his emotions, his team sprang into action, efficiently setting up the warehouse for the arrival of Charlie Team. They worked quickly, creating designated areas for sleeping, eating, and planning their next steps. The focused energy in the room reminded Bear that despite the heavy burden they carried, they were united in their purpose.
In the midst of the commotion, they found comfort in shared memories of Flora and the children.
“Remember that one time Amelia begged me to have a tea party with her stuffed animals?” Warden laughed, “I ended up scrunched up in her little teeny tiny chair, scared to death I’d break it!”
Bear chuckled at the memory, and Nova, who had been keeping watch by the window, chimed in, “Kenzi’s paper airplanes! She had me helping her build an entire Air Force squadron for her to fly sorties with.”
As the cool night fell, Bear turned to Warden. “Can you set everyone up on a guard rotation until Charlie Team arrives? I’m going to try to catch a quick catnap. Wake me in two hours, and I’ll take a turn.” He gave a soft whistle, getting everyone’s attention. “Thank you all for your support today. Tomorrow, we hit the ground running!”
He found a corner and stretched out on his blanket. The cool night air wrapped around him, but a memory surged to the forefront of his mind, one that felt like a weight pressing down on his heart. Just before he left for this mission, after working all night on base to prepare, he had stopped by the house to leave Flora a note about his reenlistment, hoping they could touch base when he got back. It was 3 a.m., and he didn’t want to wake her. But on the desk, he was blindsided to find an envelope withdivorce papers opened beside a wine glass she had obviously been drinking from.
Part of him wanted to confront her about those papers, to demand answers, but he knew he didn’t have the time to talk it out. So he left them there, pretending he hadn’t seen them, burying his feelings beneath the urgency of the mission ahead.
