Page 3 of Operator
She only has eyes for Ian.
Once upon a time, she only had eyes for me.
Now, I can’t remember the last time she looked at me.
And I deserve every goddamn second of her scorn.
* * *
Chaos reigns around me.
Explosions burst throughout the night like a morbid Fourth of July, punctuated by guttural shouts and pops of gunfire. My NVGs are practically useless with the amount of light illuminating the frigid desert air.
I dive for cover behind a dilapidated building and collide with a wall of stone. I see stars, and not just the ones in the clear blue sky above my head. Cursing, I adjust my goggles, shoulder my weapon, and creep along the edge of the crumbling wall to the other side, hoping for a better vantage point so I can figure out what the fuck is going on.
One second, we were headed back to base, the mission unsuccessful but complete, and then the next, everything went to all hell. Par for the course, but fuck if it didn’t put sand in my shorts.
Bursts of light flash from a ridge in the distance and pings of impact that send puffs of dust in the hillside not far from my position signal they’re aiming for us. Naturally. The grunt support takes cover behind a small hill, but I have eyes and ears only for my team, the men I put my trust in, who I’ve promised to protect.
“We’re surrounded,” I say into the radio.
There’s a pause while Collier, the leader of our team, confers with Ryan Tate, the leader of the second. I search through the darkness and get eyes on the rest of my guys, Dean Tyler, Killian Burke, and James Murdoch.
Tate orders Collier to lead us up and over a ridge and out of sight, but I can tell he doesn’t want to leave Tate, or the other team. Not like we have a choice when bullets are flying.
Tate follows close behind, but not fast enough.
Sometimes speed and training don’t account for shit poor timing.
An explosion punctuates the gunfire, and my eardrums scream in protest.I cover my head with my arms until the debris settles, then I crawl up to the top of the dune alongside Collier and peer over the edge.
Tate is on the other side in pieces. You’d think you get used to seeing what humans can do to each other, and in some ways, you do, but there’s always a new level of fucked up to attain. New horrors to uncover.
Collier is up and over the top of the dune, running to Tate’s side.
“I’m here,” I hear him say over the shouts of pain and fear. “I’ve got you. Just hold on.”
I can’t hear Collier’s words over the sound of the surrounding din, but I can see the needle he pulls from the Medic’s kit. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he plans to do with it. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard of a teammate helping another to an easier death, but it is the first time I’ve ever seen it in person.
Guess tonight is a night for firsts, is all I can think as my feet begin to sink into the sand. I can’t seem to find the wherewithal to move. Not as Ford primes the needle. Not as he slips it into what remains of Tate’s arm.
Not as Tate’s eyes flutter closed and his hoarse screams stutter to a stop. Bubbles of blood still dot his chin from what must have been a punctured lung…or worse. There’s too much carnage to tell for sure.
I don’t move until Collier notices I’m there. I don’t know what to say to him, so I don’t say anything. Instead, I grab a fistful of his collar and pull him back to safety. The dude’s built like a brick house, so it takes some effort.
“I had to,” he whispers. I can’t hear him, but I don’t need to know what he’s saying to understand.
“The fuck happened?”
But Collier is too far gone to answer my question.
There’s no time to debate the legality or morality of the shit he just pulled. There’s still the rest of our team out here, hopefully alive, not to mention the grunts who supported our mission. Christ, what a clusterfuck.
I get him to his feet as he fights me all the way.
“We can’t leave him,” he says.
“We have to,” I echo Collier, even though I know he’s not listening.
